The first fact was all too obvious. Since she had first met the man she had known that she was drawn to him by a force that she just couldn't explain. And she felt—she knew!—that he felt the same way. Though he'd been a bit slow to admit it.
And never before had a simple goodnight kiss had such an effect on her. Her body, her entire being had responded to him. And she knew without doubt that he had responded to her.
But now was the time to try to be cool, logical. If she could. She felt she had been drawn into something that would be impossible to escape. Not that she wanted to escape.
She calculated that she had only known Marc about a week. Today had been their first real kiss. He was one of the best looking, most attractive men she had ever met. She thought they shared a lot. They fitted well together.
So what was it that was now worrying her? Was it because he was foreign? She didn't think so. There were times when his slight French accent, his different way of doing things, even his different way of thinking, made him madly attractive.
She had to face it. She had fallen for him.
Next morning Lucy went into the ward, half hopeful, half anxious. She wanted to be present when Kevin came in to see Astrid. He had wanted to go to the hospital the previous night but had been persuaded not to by the fact that she needed to rest. Lucy was waiting when Marc arrived. Very properly, he had told John what they had done.
'What did he say?' Lucy asked.
'He said that if it worked out, it would be an ideal solution to Astrid's situation. You know he believes every baby needs a present father as well as a mother. And your friend Jenny was there. She said that she thought it was all romantic and lovely.'
'Jenny's a romantic,' said Lucy. 'Now, I've arranged things with Sister and I've got my uniform on. I'm just going to check Astrid before she gets a shock. You go and talk to the young lover over there.'
She had just seen a nervous Kevin peer into the ward. In his arms was the largest bunch of roses she had ever seen.
Physically, Astrid was fine and ready to be discharged. Mentally—well... Lucy smiled. That might all change in a moment. 'I've got a surprise for you, Astrid,' she said.
She came out and waved to Kevin. Kevin came bounding down the ward, excitement and apprehension on his face. He disappeared through the curtains. Everyone in the ward heard the shriek of joy.
'Kevin!'
'Well, we've pleased someone this morning,' Lucy said to Marc, who had strolled down the ward. 'And I do—I really do—hope that it'll last.'
'Don't be too cynical. I've just had a word with him. Last night he told his parents what had happened. His mother's a French teacher, by the way. They're shocked but rallying round. They're going to ask Astrid if she'd like to stay with them for as long as she likes. Certainly until after the baby is born.'
He took her arm, looked at her thoughtfully. 'Happy endings are possible, Lucy.'
'Then I want one,' she said.
Lucy had asked Marc if he could call in to speak to her just after handover, and here he was.
'I know you're working late tonight,' she told him, 'and you will be for the next couple of days. But I've got an idea.'
He looked at her with smiling suspicion. 'Lucy Stephens, you have that innocent look that means you're plotting something.'
'Me? Plot? Never!' But to herself she thought with some satisfaction, He's getting to know me.
'This evening I'm going to babysit for Lizzie, her husband is taking her to dinner to celebrate their wedding anniversary,' she told him. 'But then I'm off work for three days. I've nothing special to do and I know you're very busy. So just look at these colour samples. Which do you like best?' She handed him a card.
He looked at the samples then looked at her. 'Why am I looking at colours, Lucy?'
'You said you wanted to do something about your dingy flat. I had a look at the walls when I was there the other night, they're pretty sound. There's decorating gear stored at Lizzie's. I calculate that it'll only take me a day to put a couple of coats of emulsion on the walls and ceiling of the hall and living room.'
He looked at her in amazement. 'You'll do what?'
'I'm an expert decorator,' she told him. 'Well, I'm a good amateur at painting and wallpapering. Our family has always done its own decorating.'
'C'est impossible!' She had noticed that when he was excited he tended to revert to French. 'Lucy, I cannot possibly permit you to... If anyone should do it then I...'
'If a male friend offered to do it, would you accept?'
He had to think and then she knew he'd answer honestly.
'Yes,' he said, 'but that would be different.'
'Don't I mean as much to you as a male friend?'
He shook his head in disbelief. 'You know you do. I have never met anyone like you.'
'Well, that's lovely. Now, I thought perhaps this primrose for your living room walls and a white with a hint of gold for the hall.'
'Who am I to object?' he said.
'Then I'll be at your front door at eight tomorrow morning. I'll buy the paint on my way to Lizzie's tonight.'
The aluminium ladder was tied to her car roof, the cleaning materials, brushes, paint-spattered dustsheets all in her boot. And she was wearing her overalls and hat. Marc looked at her in dismay as she bustled past him.
'I didn't quite believe you'd come,' he said.
He looked particularly attractive in his white shirt, as yet without a tie, and his formal trousers.
'I've come. Now, the furniture here is so light that there'll be no problem shifting it. I don't need you so you get off to work and see what things are like when you return.'
He shrugged a Gallic shrug and did as he was told.
Lucy loved decorating. Sometimes being a midwife was hard physical work but this was different. It didn't take long to shift the furniture to the centre of the room, spread out her sheets and then start the essential preliminary cleaning. The actual painting was the reward.
She worked through the day, stopping for her sandwiches at lunchtime. She was doing well. And then at five o'clock, Marc phoned.
'Lucy, I have to stay at work. I had intended to take you to dinner or cook for you myself, but we have a couple of emergencies here and I just can't get away. Please, don't work longer, go home and rest. Whatever needs to be done can be done later.'
'You don't know me all that well, do you? Carry on with the medical work, Doctor.' And she rang off.
Three quarters of an hour later there was a knock on the door. She slid down her ladder, went to open it. There was a cheerful pizza delivery lad, carrying a flat box. 'It's been paid for,' he said, 'and there's a message I don't understand. It says, "This is just for the blood sugar".'
'I understand,' Lucy said with a smile. And the pizza was fine.
Marc finally came in at nine that night. The work was finished—just. And she was sitting in the kitchen, feeling exhausted and happy.
'I did the kitchen ceiling as well,' she said.
He walked around the living room, admired the hall. 'Lucy, you have worked wonders,' he said, shaking his head. Then he came close to her, peered into her eyes. 'And now you are exhausted,' he added.
She had to agree. 'A bit tired.'
'Then you must sleep. But first something to help you rest. Chocolate?'
'That would be wonderful.' She enjoyed her cocoa every night, was expecting something like that. But the drink he brought her was very different from cocoa. 'Where did you get this?' she gasped. 'It's wonderful.'
'It comes from the West Indies, it's imported specially.' He reached for a bottle, held it over her mug. 'Try a little brandy with it—it adds spice.'
'Well, new experiences. Thank you,' she said.
Then a vast fatigue enveloped her and she knew that if she didn't sleep soon she would just fall over.
Marc recognised her state. 'You will stay here the night,' he said. 'You will have my bed and I shall sleep on the couch. Please, no arguments.'
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He walked out of the room, came back with a pile of bedding which he dropped on the couch. He offered her something in white cotton and said with a grin, 'I wasn't expecting a lady visitor overnight, so all I can offer you to sleep in is this T-shirt. The bath is running for you—I think a bath will be better than a shower tonight. There are fresh towels in the bathroom and a new toothbrush. I have changed the bed sheets and there is a glass of water by your bedside. So I will leave you to go to bed. Goodnight, Lucy.'
She stood, went to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. She said, 'This isn't sexual. It's just because you're you.'
He put his arms around her, for a moment pulled her to him. Then he said, 'It's been a long day. Sleep well, Lucy.'
Somehow she dragged herself to the bedroom, dropped her clothes where they fell. She made sure she did not fall asleep in the bath—though it was blissful. When she came out she wrapped a towel around herself to walk to the bedroom. But she paused outside the closed living-room door. Should she go in and...? She thought not.
She groaned as she climbed into the double bed, it was so comfortable. She had so much to think about. And a minute later she was asleep.
Marc poured himself a small glass of brandy. He listened to make sure that Lucy didn't fall asleep in the bath. He had done that himself before. Then he heard her get out, pad along the corridor. He heard her footsteps stop outside the door. He remained perfectly still. Then the footsteps carried on and he heard the bedroom door shut.
With a sigh he breathed out—how long had he been holding his breath? What would he have done if she had walked into the living room dressed just in a towel? He supposed he was glad she had walked on. Tonight she was vulnerable and it wouldn't have been fair to... But he wanted her so much. He took a mouthful of brandy, coughed and spluttered. He had taken too much.
But the smooth spirit revived him. He had to think about Lucy. He hadn't known her long, only a few days really. He knew that this was a new job, in a new place, meeting new people, learning new techniques. To a certain extent he was bound to be overwrought. But Lucy had made an impression on him greater than anyone or anything else.
As he had told her, he had had girlfriends before, of course. More than a few. But he had been training and apart from one disaster his affairs had been largely casual, having to fit around work. He was still working. Would he have to fit Lucy around work? Would an affair with Lucy also be casual? He knew that it would not.
He thought she quite... liked him. But she was so different to him! She had many friends, loved being among people. Her life was so different from what his future life was likely to be.
Until now he had been more than content with the idea of his future life, had been looking forward to it.
Perhaps it would be best to keep her as a friend. Or... A cold idea threw him into a panic. For her sake perhaps it would be better to cool off any relationship. If there was to be one. It might be the kindest thing to do, the most honourable thing to do.
But he didn't want to. He needed to see more of Lucy Stephens. Irritated, he went to bed.
It was the smell that woke her, a smell of coffee but coffee such as she'd never had before. Then there was a knock on the door. She pulled the sheet up to her chin and shouted, 'Come in.'
In came Marc, dressed in light-coloured trousers and polo shirt. He looked fresh and alert, obviously already showered and shaved. The very sight of him made her feel excited and uneasy at the same time.
He placed a tray by the bed. On it was a cafetiere of coffee, a mug and a jug of hot milk. And there was an extra smell—toast. He said, 'The best of French and English cuisine: French coffee but no boulangerie nearby for fresh croissants so I've made wholemeal toast and marmalade.'
'Marc, this is fantastic! Breakfast in bed! I've not had that for years.' She thought for a moment. 'Are you having coffee too?'
'Mine is in the living room.'
'Well, fetch it and sit on the bed and talk to me. That's what my sisters used to do when I was a little girl.'
'My feelings for you are very different from your sisters' feelings.'
She turned rather pink. 'Well, yes. But when I get up I'll be running around like mad. There's lots to do. So a few minutes talking to you will be calming. Sort of,' she added after a moment.
He fetched his coffee and she felt slightly excited when he sat on the bed, and she felt it give way under her. 'Marc, you're so good to me.'
He shook his head. 'No more than you are to me.' He grinned. 'And are you going to worry about my reputation if you're seen leaving my flat?'
She remembered what she had said before and winced. Then she sighed. 'Who cares?' she asked.
'Who cares indeed?' He drank some coffee. 'It strikes me that now you know an awful lot about me and I don't know much about you. I want to know about your family.'
He nodded. 'And you shall. But it's much smaller than yours. The closest relation is my mother. The family home is in a tiny village high in the French Alps, miles from anywhere. Then there are assorted cousins, uncles, aunts and so on, but they all live quite some distance away. Different from you in this big city.'
'So you're an only child?'
He frowned. 'I am. I had an older brother but he was killed in an accident. But now I am head of the family.'
'Marc, I'm so sorry!'
He shrugged. 'These things happen. But it was hard on us all.' He stood. 'There's a lot more to tell, but now I think I must leave and let you get dressed. I see that last night you undressed in something of a hurry.'
She leaned out of bed and had to blush when she saw her eminently sensible white underwear lying where she had dropped them. 'Well, I was tired,' she said.
'So you were, Now, I'm working today but I have tomorrow off. And so do you.'
'That's right.'
'I could do with some help. Tomorrow, if you wish, perhaps you'd like to spend the day with me. I have to give a lecture to my old school on training to be a doctor. I have been asked if I could also bring a female speaker and there is no one I can think of that would do the job better than you. Could you talk about the work of a midwife?'
'Yes,' said Lucy, after a pause.
'Good. But we'll need to set off quite early. We're going to the Lake District.'
'You went to school in the Lake District?'
'It's where I learned to be what I am. Now, I must go, but before I leave I would like...'
She reached our her arms, pulled him towards her. 'And I want to kiss you too,' she said.
Chapter Five
It was going to be a fine day. Good. Lucy felt happy anticipating the trip; this would be the longest she had ever spent alone with Marc. She might find out more about him.
She put on a pretty blue dress, neither too formal nor too casual. Of course, she would take a coat, this was the Lake District. And, most important, she had her notes ready.
As she waited for him, she felt that this day might be different. There might be an alteration in the way he felt. He might waver. She just didn't know.
She hadn't seen his car before. It was a large, black, four-wheel-drive Mercedes, standing high off the ground.
'This is a surprise, it's not an obvious doctor's car,' she said as he helped her into the passenger seat.
'In France I often have to drive long distances. And in the winter you often need the power. May I say how attractive you look?'
'Thank you, kind sir. And you look like every mother's idea of the ideal man for her daughter. Like an overgrown schoolboy, in fact.' Then she reddened. 'I hope you didn't take that too personally.'
He was dressed in blazer, shining white shirt and immaculate grey trousers. There was some kind of official tie that she didn't recognise.
He grinned. 'I will take it as a compliment.'
They took the M6 north. When they were surrounded by hills, they turned off to wriggle along smaller roads and eventually came to a Victorian building.
'
Drake College,' he said, 'where I was at school. It specialises in educating the children of parents who have to work for long periods abroad. Especially parents in the armed services.'
She couldn't help herself. 'A child belongs with its parents. Why have children if you're going to send them away?'
'A question I've often asked myself. The answer must be that they thought that it was their duty to work where they couldn't take their children.'
They were now passing the sign reading 'Drake College' and she noticed that underneath, in smaller letters, was one word: Service. She read it aloud then said, 'That's a fine motto for a boarding school. I'd like to have a school where the motto was Love.'
'Quite a good idea,' he said.
They drove on slowly and in silence for a moment, then she said, 'Sorry. Why am I taking it out on you when it's probably not your fault?'
'I like it when you say what you think. It's an honesty that's quite rare.'
She was rather pleased with this compliment.
He looked thoughtfully over the playing fields. 'I certainly learned a lot here and I wasn't unhappy. The staff were very good. I've got happy memories of being here.'
'Your family must be rich to have sent you here.' She was still irritated by the place.
He shrugged. 'In fact, I won a scholarship. But the family wouldn't let me take it up. They thought the scholarship should go to someone who really needed the money.'
'So you are rich?'
It seemed to be a new idea to him. 'I suppose I am,' he said. 'But being rich can bring responsibilities.'
'I'd like to have the chance to find out.'
They parked at the front of the school. Marc led her along bewildering corridors and eventually knocked at a study door.
'Enter,' a voice boomed.
Marc winked at Lucy and opened the door.
At first Lucy found it difficult not to laugh. Dr Atkins looked so much like a caricature of a headmaster. He was tall but thin and stooped. He had a halo of white hair, a beaked nose and half-moon glasses. He wore a dark suit and an academic gown.
'Dr Duvallier—Marc! So good to see you again.' Even the voice played the part—it was clear, rather fruity, Lucy thought. He offered his hand to Marc and then said, 'And who might this be?'
The Noble Doctor Page 6