The Consultant's Recovery

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘Good,’ she said. She knew how mortified newly blind people could feel when they realised how difficult it could be to eat some things. Sauces could be a particular problem. So were peas.

  She took Albert's and Jonathan's advice when selecting her meal: a terrine of fish with apple chutney; roast chump of lamb with onion marmalade and rosemary jus; apple galette with butterscotch sauce. And all the trimmings, of course. Albert and Jonathan discussed the wines and she left them to it.

  ‘Is there anything else you want?’ Jonathan asked finally. ‘Any way Albert can make our meal more special?’

  She hesitated. There was something, and he caught her hesitation. ‘Tell us,’ he said softly. ‘We can't guess.’ Well, she was really looking forward to this meal and there was something that would spoil it for her. Spoil it slightly. ‘Could we have a table without candles, please?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course, madam,’ Albert said, and that was settled. He left.

  ‘Candles are supposed to be romantic,’ Jonathan said. ‘They create an atmosphere. But I suppose you have to remind us that we're still patient and carer?’

  ‘This will keep things a bit professional. And anyway, I can be romantic enough without candles.’ Then she realised what she had just said. ‘Oh, dear! I didn't mean –’

  ‘I know what you meant,’ he said. ‘Now, before we dine, I think I owe you this.’ From his pocket he took a wallet, the notes in it carefully arranged in the way she had shown him. He took some out and offered them to her. ‘I'm blind,’ he said. ‘It's no good sending me a bill.’

  She had said it, but when it came to actually accepting money she knew she couldn't do it ‘I can't take it’ she said. ‘I just can't take it. I'm having a wonderful time, I'm enjoying myself. You know I said it for a reason but …’ Her voice rose to a squeak. ‘Anyway, not that much!’

  ‘If you take it, I can ask you out again,’ Jonathan said. ‘Tell you what, let's compromise. Take the money and buy something for your blind school. Or give it to one of the charities there.’

  Very reluctantly Tania took what he had offered her. ‘I'll give it to the guide dog fund,’ she said. ‘It'll be money well spent.’

  ‘Good. Now, we can talk about something else. Do you know, every conversation we've had has been about me? Well, I want to change that. I want to talk about you.’

  Instantly she was cautious. Jonathan might be blind but he was one of the shrewdest people she had ever met. She didn't want to talk about herself – she would reveal more than she wished. ‘I'm not a very interesting person,’ she said.

  ‘You interest me. Why has such an attractive, such an intelligent, such a pleasant person not been snapped up? I know that's a presumption – but there's something about you that suggests you're not looking for a relationship.’

  ‘Thank you for the compliment,’ she said tartly. ‘Don't forget, it's not everyone's ambition to be in a relationship. In fact, I've just turned down an offer – I think.’

  ‘Don't tell me – Derrick. I thought there was something rather … proprietorial about his attitude to you.’

  ‘Derrick sometimes gets things wrong. But he hasn't been a bad boss. What do you want to know about me?’

  ‘Everything,’ he said flatly.

  Tania tried to drag her thoughts together. What should she tell him, and what not? She couldn't show all of herself to this man. ‘Well … I'm twenty-seven years old and I'm an only child. I was brought up by my mother, my father died when I was young. But my mother and I, we got on well together.’

  ‘We have that in common,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, well … I was training to be a nurse. In fact, I did for two years. I loved it. Jonathan, I'm not sure I want to tell you this. Anyway, it's all boring.’

  ‘You could never bore me,’ he said gently, ‘and certainly if you don't want to talk there's no need to. If it causes you pain, you're under no pressure. But I want to know you better, Tania. And I think you're hiding something. It could be good for you to talk. To trust someone.’

  ‘I trusted someone before!’ she said bitterly. ‘Sorry, please, forget I said that.’

  ‘And there's another story,’ he said reflectively. ‘But, first, what about your mother?’

  It was odd telling this to someone who was blind. She could stare into Jonathan's face, see how it hardened into anger, softened into sympathy. She'd never done this before.

  ‘I was a dedicated nurse,’ she said. ‘I worked like mad, passed all the examinations, got commendations and so on – and I enjoyed the work itself. But during this time my mother's sight was deteriorating. She had cataracts, we were waiting till they were ripe. I knew this but I thought she was coping. I spent a lot of time at home. But not enough. Perhaps I didn't notice because I didn't want to notice. Anyway, my mother went out, tried to cross the road and got run down. I was at the hospital when they told me.’

  The horror of that day had never left her.

  ‘You don't have to go on if you don't want to,’ Jonathan said softly.

  ‘No, I … I'd like you to know the whole story. My mother was paralysed. A tetraplegic. She wanted me to put her in a home but I wouldn't. For four years I looked after her. And then she died. I couldn't face starting to nurse again – and I heard of this course for blind rehabilitation workers in Harrogate. I did it and have enjoyed my work ever since.’

  He reached over, found her hands and stroked them. ‘A sobering story,’ he said. ‘You sacrificed your –’

  ‘I sacrificed nothing!’ she snapped. ‘I only did what I wanted and I was so happy with my mother. I wanted to –’

  ‘Your table is ready,’ Albert said, suddenly materialising by their side. ‘If you are ready now … ‘

  He led them to a table in a little alcove, taking care, Tania noticed, to lead them where there was no chance of Jonathan tripping on anything. When they were seated he saw that glasses were to hand, that Jonathan could reach anything he needed. Then the wine was opened and their first courses brought.

  The wine and her terrine with apple chutney were both delightful. Neither of them said anything during the first course, it was sufficient to eat. The second course was, if anything, even better. But when the plates were removed, they decided to wait a while before dessert. It would be something to look forward to.

  Jonathan poured more wine and asked, ‘So did you feel guilty about your mother's accident? Did you move into this kind of work as some kind of recompense?’

  ‘Possibly. I know there was no need to feel guilty – a hundred people have told me that. But people can't tell you how to feel.’

  ‘That I know well. But I suspect –’

  ‘Enough about me,’ she said. ‘I'm really enjoying being with you, and the meal is fantastic, so I don't want to drag over old miseries. Now I want to know about you. Why aren't you married?’

  He realised that she wanted to change the mood and went along with her unspoken wishes. ‘Well, I'm a doctor, a consultant in infectious diseases. It's not a glamorous branch of medicine, but I like it. So far in my life I've worked hard at medicine and been frivolous in the rest of my life. I love beautiful women. Their hair, their faces, their skin, their bodies. Women of any age. My mother is beautiful. It's not sexual – I just like beauty.’

  Tania felt rather upset. ‘That's a bit frivolous,’ she said. ‘Their beauty isn't much of a way of judging someone's worth. There are lots of other ways … beauty shouldn't be important.’

  ‘True. I think an awful lot of you, Tania, but the fact that you're beautiful is a definite extra.’

  ‘How do you know I'm beautiful?’ she said. ‘You've never even seen me!’

  ‘Joe told me,’ he said flatly. ‘We're very close, I trust his judgement. And the judgement of others. I'm fighting this blindness, trying to accept it. But you should know, one of the reasons I want to regain my sight is to see you.’

  She sighed. ‘Jonathan, you've had a terrible, traumatic experience. You're upset. Y
ou're not yourself, you shouldn't make statements like that, you might come to regret them.’

  ‘Are you sure I don't mean them?’

  She knew she had to give him an honest answer. And it wasn't in her to lie.

  ‘No,’ she said, her lips dry, ‘I think you probably do mean what you say. Now, can we please, forget me completely?’

  ‘All right. I'll get our dessert served, shall I?’

  It was something else she liked about him. He knew when to stop pushing.

  After their meal they went back to the bar again and had coffee and liqueurs. ‘I'm really enjoying myself tonight,’ he said, ‘and it's nothing to do with you, but I didn't expect to.’

  She was surprised. ‘If you didn't expect to enjoy yourself, why did you come?’

  ‘I had to prove to myself that there were parts of my old life I could still cope with. And being with you gives me confidence. Not many people do, you know – but you do.’

  ‘I'm glad,’ she said simply.

  ‘So-o, since you've been working for me part time – and since we've both enjoyed it – would you like to work for me again?’

  She laughed. ‘If this is work, then I want overtime. What have you in mind?’

  ‘There's a hospital ball two weeks Saturday. Black-tie, dancing, lots of people to meet. Basically it's a charity function; we thank people who have given to the hospital. I want to go so that people can see that I'm still on top of things. I might have had an accident, but I'm still the consultant.’

  ‘Is that so important to you?’

  ‘It may be a character flaw but yes, it is. I'm sorry.’

  ‘It's the first time I've heard you admit to having a flaw,’ she said. ‘I think it needs recognising. All right I'd love to come with you.’

  His face lit up. ‘You'll be the belle of the ball,’ he said. ‘And everyone will be jealous of me.’

  ‘That's enough! I want to talk about something else now. We've been serious long enough.’

  When it was time, Jonathan phoned for the car. On the way back to the school he said, ‘You were waiting at the edge of the pavement when we picked you up. Tell me how you get from there to the foyer.’

  ‘It's no distance. There's a concrete path that runs round the corner of the main block and straight to the door.’

  ‘The corner? Is that a right angle? And can you feel the edge of the path with a long cane?’

  Tania realised why he was asking. ‘You want to escort me to the front door,’ she said. ‘Jonathan, I'll be fine. If you want, the driver can come with me, but there's no need.’

  ‘Never in my life have I left a lady to walk back to her front door, and I'm not going to start now. From what you say I should be able to navigate there and back with my cane. So I will.’

  She realised how important it was to him. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘I'd really like that. Just one thing. I'm going to wait by the door until I hear the car drive away. Then I'll know you're safe, too.’

  ‘I can live with that,’ he said.

  She didn't guide him. She let him tap his way along the edge of the path, negotiate the corner, take her to the glassed-in entrance. He held her arm but she gave him no help. And then they were at the door. ‘You did well,’ she said.

  ‘It was only an excuse. I wanted to be alone with you.’ And his arms wrapped round her.

  It was only a tentative kiss at first. His mouth found hers, touched gently, his hold on her light. She realised this was what she had been expecting, what she had been wanting. There was a moment's apprehension, a wondering if she was doing the right thing. She'd done nothing like this for so long! But it was wonderful! She clutched him to her, pressed her body to his, offering herself because she wanted to. And he responded. She felt his hold on her tighten, their bodies seemed to cling together as if they were naked. His tongue probed deep into her, she was carried away on waves of sensation she had never experienced before. What was the man doing to her or, rather, what was she doing to herself? She wanted to stay here, like this, for ever. But something deep inside her said that it shouldn't go on too long. So far it had been only a goodnight kiss. It mustn't be allowed to turn into anything more. There were good reasons.

  She broke off their kiss, put her hands on his chest. ‘I must go now,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you, Jonathan, I've had a marvellous evening.’

  He ignored her trite little words. ‘You know things will never be the same between us again,’ he demanded. ‘That was more than a kiss. It was a declaration.’

  She moved uneasily. ‘Perhaps so,’ she admitted. ‘But for the moment – until you have things settled – we must take things slowly.’

  ‘You mean, wait until we know if I'm blind or not?’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Yes. I wouldn't have put it as cruelly as that but yes. I won't change how I feel – but you very well might’

  For a moment Tania thought he would argue. But then he kissed her on the cheek and stepped away from her. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart. I can't remember a night I've enjoyed more – either with my sight or without it.’

  Jonathan turned, reached out with his long cane and tapped the side of the path. She watched him make his slow progress, pause at the bend and then turn the corner. He was out of sight. She didn't move. A little later there was the sound of a car being driven away. He had reached the taxi safely.

  Then she went in to her room.

  It was only a room, small, with institutional furniture, but it was her home. She had added her own touches – pictures on the walls, a pretty throw on the bed, a mobile that she had seen and thought was fun. But now it was the last place she wanted to be.

  She undressed, slipped on a light dressing gown, hung up her clothes. Then she sat on the bed and thought about her evening, starting with the kiss and then moving backwards. She had enjoyed herself so much. The meal had been fantastic, the surroundings equally so, but most of all she had enjoyed Jonathan's company. It felt so good to be escorted by such a handsome man.

  She had answered his questions with an honesty that she hadn't shown to any man for years. She was happy that he knew about her mother. But as she sat there, her smile slowly disappeared. She had another secret that nothing would make her tell. Unconsciously, her hand slid inside her gown, her fingertips stroking the naked flesh of her abdomen.

  The memory didn't come back so often now. There had been times when she would wake in the middle of the night, bathed in sweat, terrified by a nightmare that had its origin in months of pain in hospital.

  The memories came to her again, and she knew she couldn't just ignore them. She would have to follow them to the bitter end.

  It had happened in her home, when her spirits were at their lowest, just after her mother had died. A silly, a pointless accident. She had tripped over a rug in the living room, fallen and hit her head on the corner of the mantelpiece. She had been knocked unconscious.

  Serious enough, but there had been more. It had been winter and she had brought in a small electric fire to warm the room. An old electric fire, with a naked element.

  She had fallen across the fire, landed waist down on it. The element had burned through her dress to her flesh. It had also set fire to the newspaper she'd been holding.

  She had been unconscious, and burning.

  A neighbour had seen the flames through the window, had kicked in the door, dragged her away and then sent for an ambulance. She'd woken up in the specialist burns unit, having suffered third-degree burns.

  Behind her wardrobe door there was a full-length mirror, usually this door was kept closed. Now she opened it fully and slipped off her gown. She surveyed herself, naked, in the mirror.

  Jonathan had said that he loved beautiful women. He loved their faces, hair, bodies, skin. Well, yes, she was beautiful. She wasn't being arrogant, it was a fair and detached assessment Her breasts were high and full, her waist slim, her hips rounded, and her legs long. But in between all these was a mass of scar tissue. Her abdomen showed grea
t weals, inflamed skin, the marks of unsuccessful plastic surgery.

  She burst into tears. No lover of beautiful women could ever look at her and be anything but repulsed.

  Chapter Five

  FIRST thing next morning Tania walked to her office.

  There were a couple of hours' paperwork at her desk before she could start on her calls. A note on her desk asked her to bring the files on Dr. Knight and one or two others of her clients to Derrick's office.

  There was no reference to yesterday's conversation.

  He was curt but business like, what he had to say was soon over. But then he followed it with, ‘Did you enjoy yourself at the Blue Bell last night?’

  She just wasn't expecting this. ‘Yes, I did, very much,’ she said, ‘but how did you know?’

  ‘I was told this morning by the head of this school. He called in there for a drink. He seemed to think it quite funny to see you there with a client.’

  Derrick paused for effect. ‘I don't think it's funny at all. I feel I should have been informed in advance.’

  ‘What I do in my own time is my own business,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Quite so.’ He took up her report on her work with Jonathan, looked through it. ‘However, I feel that your conduct with Dr. Knight hasn't been entirely professional. I don't intend to pursue this – but I do intend to remove him from your care. I think it better for our client if someone else is his rehabilitation worker.’

  She looked at Derrick in horror. ‘You can't do this! You're only moving me because I wouldn't go out with you. It's mean, nasty, and spiteful.’

  ‘First of all, I can do it. I can move any of my workers for whatever reason I think fit. Secondly, in no way am I doing this because of anything … personal between us. And any tribunal you care to complain to would agree with me.’

  ‘Well, I want at least to say goodbye –’

  ‘No! And that, Miss Richardson, is a specific instruction. You are not to get in touch with Dr. Knight. Stay in the office this morning. I see you were intending to visit. I'm sending April Manson in your place.’