Dr Mathieson's Daughter

by Maggie Kingsley

  ‘Are you sure?’ Richard said uncertainly. ‘I mean, won’t Dr Mathieson mind me coming round?’

  ‘Why should he?’ she protested. ‘Look, I won’t tell him why you’ve come if that’s what’s bothering you. I’ll just say I invited you for dinner.’

  ‘But won’t that make it worse?’ the junior doctor asked, looking decidedly uncomfortable. ‘I mean, won’t it be a bit awkward for you, what with…’ The colour on his cheeks grew even deeper. He took a deep breath, and got it out in a rush. ‘I mean, won’t he object, what with you and him living together and everything?’

  Jane smiled. ‘How long did you say you’ve been working at St Stephen’s now, Richard?’

  ‘Two months.’

  ‘And you still haven’t learned that Elliot favours long-legged girls with perfect figures?’ She shook her head. ‘I think it’s time you spent less time worrying about your medical capabilities and more time listening to the hospital grapevine. Elliot and I might be living in the same flat, but we’re certainly not living together. I’m there to help look after his little girl.’

  ‘Really?’ Richard didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Really,’ Jane insisted, getting to her feet and reaching for her coat. ‘Come round about eight. Nicole will be in bed by then and I can assure you Elliot won’t mind a bit.’

  But he did. The minute she told him his blond eyebrows snapped together. ‘What do you mean, you’ve asked Richard Connery round for dinner?’

  ‘I thought it would be a kind thing to do,’ she replied, closing the oven door and putting on the timer. ‘He’s new in London, this is his first post and I think he feels a bit lonely.’

  ‘Then let him join one of the hospital clubs,’ he retorted, striding into the sitting room and throwing his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. ‘He’ll be able to meet plenty of people there.’

  ‘That’s not very sociable,’ she said as she followed him. ‘Elliot, I like him—’

  ‘Oh, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she retorted, beginning to get seriously irritated as he all but glowered at her, ‘and when I agreed to move in here with you, one of the conditions was that I could have friends round whenever I wanted to.’

  ‘So Richard’s a friend now, is he?’ Elliot said tightly. ‘He gets invited round to dinner, does he? Jane, much as I don’t want to interfere in your private life—’

  ‘My private life?’

  ‘I’d like to point out that Richard’s years younger than you are.’

  He thought it was a date, she realised. He thought she’d invited Richard round because they’d made a date, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he’d got it all wrong when she suddenly wondered why she should.

  Elliot had no right to be standing there, looking all disapproving and suggesting she was cradle-snatching. If she had wanted to date Richard Connery it was none of his damn business, and he was just about to find that out.

  ‘Elliot, I’m twenty-eight years old, and Richard is twenty-three,’ she declared icily. ‘That hardly makes him my toy boy, and as you appear to have acquired such a downer on him, I’ll make things easy for you. I’ll entertain him in my room. You won’t even have to see him.’

  ‘Your room?’

  ‘Yes, my room,’ she snapped. ‘The one at the end of the corridor, the one with my clothes and books in it.’

  ‘Jane—’

  ‘Unless you have any objections, of course?’

  He did. The biggest one being that he knew of only one form of entertainment which took place in a bedroom, and he most certainly didn’t like the idea of Richard and Jane indulging in it.

  ‘You can use the sitting room if you like and I’ll stay in my study,’ he said grudgingly, but Jane wasn’t buying any of it.

  ‘Thanks, but, no, thanks,’ she said, her voice cold, clipped. ‘I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble. My bedroom will do fine.’

  And she was as good as her word. The minute the junior doctor arrived she whisked him straight into her room, without even allowing Elliot to say hello, and firmly shut the door, leaving him fuming and frustrated in the hall.

  It’s all your own fault, he thought. She has a perfect right to entertain anyone she likes, and you had no right to object.

  Yes, but that was before I knew she was going to invite Richard Connery round, a kid who’s scarcely out of nappies. Dammit, it would have been bad enough if it had been Charlie, but at least the SHO could string more than two words together.

  Stringing words together didn’t appear to be a problem for Richard tonight, he realised as he hovered in the hallway, trying without success to hear what all the talking and occasional burst of laughter was about.

  Look, at least they are still talking, he thought, and not making love. Nobody could continue to talk like that if they were making love. They wouldn’t have the breath, for a start.

  If he could only find out what they were saying. In the movies people always put a glass against a wall to listen. Quickly he went into the kitchen, picked one up off the draining-board, then put it down again with a bang. This was ridiculous. Jane was entitled to her privacy. He had no right to spy on her. And the glass trick probably wouldn’t work anyway.

  The sound of a door opening along the corridor had him shooting across to the kitchen window and gazing out into the back garden with apparently rapt interest.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were in here,’ Jane said, coming to a stop as she saw him.

  Dammit, she looked all flustered and flushed, but at least she was still fully clothed. Clothed in a loose T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Tight jeans. Figure-hugging jeans. Jeans which clung and outlined her full, round bottom, and a top that was just loose enough for a man to slip his hands under if he felt so inclined.

  He swallowed hard. ‘I was just about to make myself something to eat.’

  ‘I’ve made a curry for Richard, but there’s more than enough for three if you want some,’ she offered, taking a bottle of wine out of the fridge.

  ‘Jane, about you and Richard—’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the junior doctor said, a warm tinge of colour coming to his cheeks as he appeared at the kitchen door. ‘I didn’t realise you were in here, sir.’

  It’s my home, Elliot wanted to snap back, and don’t call me ‘sir’. It makes me sound ancient and decrepit, and I’m neither.

  ‘Do you need any help with the food, Jane?’ Richard asked, turning to her before Elliot could say anything.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. Though if you could take the wine and the glasses through, that would be a big help. Elliot, do you want a plate of this or not?’ Jane continued, opening the oven door as Richard disappeared with the wine and the glasses. ‘It’s chicken curry.’

  His favourite, and he was so hungry he could almost taste it.

  ‘I’m not very hungry, thank you,’ he said stiffly. ‘In fact, I think I might have an early night.’

  Jane glanced up at the clock on the wall in surprise. ‘At nine o’clock?’

  ‘I really don’t think when I choose to go to bed is any of your business,’ he retorted, knowing quite well that he was sounding unbelievably petty and childish but completely unable to stop himself.

  She shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

  He hovered for an instant, hoping she might try to dissuade him, but to his chagrin she didn’t.

  ‘I’ll say goodnight, then,’ he said coldly. ‘And I’d be obliged if you and your friend don’t make too much noise and wake Nicole.’

  And before she could answer he strode out of the kitchen, down the hall into his bedroom, and only just restrained himself from slamming the door shut.

  Elliot didn’t restrain himself, however, from pulling off his shoes and throwing them one by one at the bedroom wall.

  Damn Richard Connery. He hoped he choked on his chicken curry. He hoped the wine tasted like vinegar, and the junior doctor had an attack of diarrhoea which kept him off work for the rest o
f the week.

  You’re jealous!

  OK, all right, he was jealous, he admitted it.

  And the reason you’re jealous is because you’re attracted to Jane yourself.

  Of course he wasn’t, he retorted, only to realise to his dismay that it was true. He didn’t know how it had happened, or when, but he did know one thing. It was an attraction that was going to go nowhere. An attraction he firmly intended making sure went nowhere.

  When he and Donna had divorced he’d pledged two things. Never to date anyone who worked in his department—it always led to unpleasantness when the relationship ended—and always to date women who knew the score. Women who would shrug their shoulders when he walked away, as he always did.

  And Jane was disqualified on both counts.

  She didn’t know the score. She was too nice, too kind and too gentle to play the kind of games he normally played, and he’d hurt her, he knew he would, and he didn’t want to do that.

  Which was why he was going to make a date with Gussie for tomorrow night. Gussie knew the score. Gussie could probably have written the rule book. In fact, now he came to think about it, he probably wouldn’t be having these disturbing thoughts about Jane in the first place if he hadn’t had to put his social life on hold because he’d been reluctant to ask Gussie round to the flat with Nicole there.

  You could have gone round to Gussie’s place, his mind pointed out.

  OK, so he could, but somehow it hadn’t seemed fair to ask Jane to look after Nicole so that he could enjoy Gussie’s ample charms.

  Well, now he didn’t care whether it was fair or not. He was going out with Gussie tomorrow night, or he’d go crazy.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘NICOLE, Stephanie’s mother will be here in five minutes to pick you up and drive you to school, and if you’re not ready both you and Stephanie will be late!’

  ‘I know, Jane,’ came the shouted reply from the bathroom, ‘but I can’t find my history book, or my white T-shirt for games!’

  ‘Try the floor behind the sofa in the sitting room for your history book, and your bedroom for your T-shirt!’

  For a second there was silence, then the resounding clatter of running feet, followed by the bang of a bedroom door, and Jane winced as she sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Overindulged a little on the vino with Richard last night, did we?’ Elliot observed, lowering his newspaper to gaze over the top of it at her speculatively, his blue eyes cool.

  Actually, she had the mother and father of all headaches this morning, which had a lot more to do with the fact that she hadn’t been able to get rid of Richard until two o’clock, but she had absolutely no intention of telling Elliot that.

  ‘Lack of sleep, actually,’ she couldn’t resist replying, and was gratified to see a flash of anger appear in his blue eyes before he disappeared behind his newspaper again with a furious rustle.

  Well, so what if her reply had suggested she’d spent a night of unbridled passion with Richard Connery? she thought waspishly. After Elliot’s performance last night—implying she was cradle-snatching, going off to bed in a huff—she was damned if she was going to tell him the truth. That the only passion which had occurred in her bedroom had been Richard’s enthusiastic recounting of his family history dating back to when his great-great-grandfather had been a doctor in Leeds.

  ‘Nicole said she’d like chicken for her dinner tonight,’ she observed, quickly slipping a paracetamol into her mouth and swallowing it down with some coffee. ‘Would that suit you? If it doesn’t I could pick up something else on my way home—’

  ‘Actually, I won’t be home for dinner,’ Elliot interrupted, lowering his newspaper again, but this time he looked awkward, uncomfortable.

  ‘I thought you had tonight off?’ She frowned, then groaned. ‘It’s not one of those admin meetings again, is it? Honestly, the amount of time they spend discussing budgets—’

  ‘It’s not a meeting,’ Elliot interrupted. ‘I…I’ve got a date. With Gussie.’

  There, it was out. He’d said it, and he waited, half expecting Jane to round on him, to tell him he’d got a nerve, expecting her to look after his daughter while he swanned off with Gussie Granton, but she didn’t.

  ‘Oh…Right…I see,’ was all she said.

  ‘The thing is, Gussie and I haven’t been out for a while,’ he said hurriedly as Jane began collecting the dirty breakfast dishes and carrying them over to the sink.

  ‘Elliot, you don’t have to explain,’ she interrupted, her voice carefully neutral. ‘You’re going out with Gussie. Fine. End of story.’

  And it should have been, he told himself. Dammit, they’d agreed that neither of them would give up their social lives, that as long as one of them was here to look after Nicole they could each go out, but…

  ‘Look, I’ll speak to Gussie, tell her something’s come up,’ he declared, annoyingly aware that his cheeks were slightly flushed. ‘We can go out another time.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Jane protested, running some water into the sink. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to cancel. I hadn’t planned on going out tonight anyway.’ Chance would have been a fine thing, she added mentally, considering nobody’s asked me. ‘So it’s no problem for me to look after Nicole.’

  ‘And you really don’t mind?’

  Oh, she minded all right. She minded like hell. ‘Of course I don’t,’ she said brightly, pulling on her washing-up gloves with a snap. ‘In fact, I hope you and Gussie have a very pleasant evening.’

  Which was exactly what he should have wanted to hear, he realised, but perversely he discovered that he didn’t. Was he really such boring company that she couldn’t wait to get him out of the house?

  Perhaps he was, he thought with dismay, suddenly remembering how Jane always seemed to shoot off to her room the minute Nicole went to bed, saying she had things to do. Gussie didn’t seem to find him boring. Anything but. Gussie thought he was witty, and attractive—

  ‘Who’s Gussie?’

  It was true, Elliot thought as he and Jane turned in unison to see Nicole standing in the kitchen doorway, a frown creasing her forehead. Little pitchers did have big ears.

  ‘She’s a friend of mine,’ he replied quickly. ‘Now, have you got everything you need for school? Your packed lunch, your homework—’

  ‘And you are going out with her, Papa?’ Nicole continued, her large, dark eyes on him, her frown deepening. ‘On a date?’

  Two pairs of eyes were fixed on him now, he noticed. One set accusing, the other apparently indifferent, and to his annoyance it was the indifferent grey eyes which bothered him the most.

  ‘Well, it’s a sort of a date,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I mean, I’ll be having dinner with her.’ At Gussie’s flat, actually, but there was no way he was going to tell his daughter that. ‘Jane will be here to look after you—’

  ‘I think if you are going out to dinner with someone, it should be with Jane,’ Nicole interrupted. ‘I like Jane.’

  ‘And I think that sounds like Mrs Massey arriving to pick you up for school,’ Elliot declared, clear relief appearing on his face as a car horn sounded in the street outside, but his daughter was having none of it.

  ‘My Aunt Michelle—Mama’s sister—gave me a book when I was small called Gussie’s Birthday Party. Gussie was a big fat elephant. Is she fat, too, this Gussie of yours?’

  ‘No, she is not,’ Elliot replied, the colour on his cheeks darkening by the second as he desperately tried to catch Jane’s eye, only to discover she seemed to be finding the whole thing highly amusing. ‘In fact, she’s actually very slim, with blonde hair and…’ And this conversation was getting out of hand, he decided. ‘I think it’s time you went to school, young lady.’

  ‘Yes, but if you want to take someone out to dinner, why don’t you take Jane?’ Nicole continued. ‘She’s never been anywhere since I arrived. Why don’t you go out with Jane instead of this Gussie person?’

  ‘School, N
icole!’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘School!’

  And Nicole went, but it didn’t stop her muttering darkly under her breath about fat elephants.

  ‘Honestly, the things kids say!’ Floella laughed. ‘I remember being in the supermarket once when my twins were small and this huge woman walks by, and I mean really huge—at least 135 kilos—and my daughter pipes up, “Mummy, is that lady going to have a baby?”’

  Jane laughed, too, and if her laughter wasn’t quite as hearty as Floella’s, thankfully the staff nurse didn’t seem to notice.

  I’m an idiot, she thought as she watched Elliot crossing the treatment room. I do have rocks in my head. To think that only yesterday I was getting myself all in a tizz, thinking he might actually be starting to realise I’m a woman, and what happens? He blithely turns round this morning and tells me he’s going out with Gussie.

  The plain and simple truth was that Elliot liked women—all women. Flirting was as natural to him as breathing, so she’d been right when she’d vowed to keep him at arm’s length. She’d been right, so why didn’t that knowledge make her feel any better?

  ‘Jane, I wonder if you could give me some help in here, please?’ Richard asked, popping his head round the curtains of cubicle 3.

  ‘Jane?’ Floella murmured, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. ‘Jane? And did mine ears deceive me, or was that also a “please” I just heard?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Flo.’ Jane couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I’ll tell you about it some time.’

  ‘You’d better.’ The staff nurse grinned, and Jane shook her head and laughed as she walked across to Richard.

  ‘What have you got?’ she asked.

  ‘Forty-five-year-old man,’ he murmured, deliberately keeping his voice low. ‘His wife brought him in because he’s been having blinding headaches for the past week. No history of migraine, nor has he had a fall or been involved in a car accident recently. It could just be stress, but…’

  Jane nodded. Richard was right to be cautious. A painful headache could be caused by something as simple as a bad day at the office, but it could also be a warning symptom of a life-threatening ruptured aneurysm in the brain.