‘They’ve even demanded to come to the castle. A final check, the nurse said. As if we can’t take care of you.’
An offer of a follow-up visit by a district nurse was entirely reasonable, Anna thought. She’d have organised the same for a patient of hers. She didn’t need it, though. She was okay.
Except that she was angry.
Usually she was unflappable. She prided herself on her calm in the face of crises.
She didn’t feel calm now.
Get a grip, she told herself. Think of the whole situation.
Until now she’d floundered, bowing to Victoir’s assumed authority. What choice had she had? But his authority was starting to grate and grate badly. Surely she paid this man’s wages?
She didn’t know how much. By the look of his clothing and the gold rings on his flaccid fingers, a lot. She’d spent her short time here trying to come to terms with the vastness of her inheritance. Should she stay a few more days and check staff ledgers? She could do that as she lay on her day bed while the staff in question catered to her every whim, she thought, and then she grimaced. The only appealing part of that right now was the day bed.
‘You need to remember you’ve been injured yourself.’
That was what Leo had said and there had been gentleness in his tone.
Of course there had. She was his patient. His gentleness meant nothing.
She’d been judged ten years ago and he’d walked away. How much deeper would that judgement be now that she’d inherited?
‘Can you get that ambulance out of the way?’ Victoir called, power loading every word. And to Anna’s disgust, the paramedic left the old lady’s trolley where it was, and went to move the ambulance.
‘You’ll look after your patient first,’ she called, and Victoir’s authority was nothing compared to the power she put behind her words. Wow. Where had that come from? Was it the doctor in Anna, or was it the first stirrings of the long line of autocratic Castlavarans in her genetics? Regardless, her words held the weight of ancestry, plus a huge loading of a doctor accustomed to sorting chaos in the midst of medical emergency. It forced all those around her to go still.
The paramedic, the woman about to climb back into the driver’s seat, looked at her with doubt. Anna might sound authoritative but she surely couldn’t look it. Jeans, T-shirt, bandaged head. What remained of her copper curls tumbling every which way. No make-up. Compared to Victoir she looked a nothing.
But this was a test she needed to pass. Victoir was looking at her as if she’d passed the boundaries of what was permitted. Up until now he’d set the guidelines. He’d made it easy for her to follow his lead, impossible for her to do anything else.
Impossible had to start somewhere. Victoir was invoking the family name? So could she.
‘I’m Anna Castlavara and we wait until the needs of patients have been met,’ she said. ‘Your patient’s care takes precedence over my needs.’
‘We’ve waited long enough,’ Victoir snapped. ‘These people—’
‘These people are Tovahnans, just like me,’ she said. ‘What’s best for them is best for me. And what I say goes.’
And she seated herself—firmly—in the rear of the limousine and prepared to wait.
But what she hoped Victoir didn’t see was that she sat not because she needed to but because her knees were shaking.
What was she letting herself in for?
And then she glanced out of the window of the car and there was Leo. He was striding out to check on the new patient being admitted.
He’d paused like everyone else.
He’d heard.
So what? She turned away, putting her hands to her cheeks to try and subdue the slow burn spreading across her cheeks. Her knees were still trembling.
She needed that day bed.
She needed space.
She needed to get home to England.
* * *
The evacuation team was delayed and delayed again. It happened. Neighbouring countries assisted as they could, but their own emergencies took precedence over Tovahna’s. Finally, though, and before evacuation took place, Carla regained consciousness.
It was six at night. She’d been unconscious for almost ten hours. She was confused, her speech was a little blurred and she wasn’t sure what was happening or why, but she recognised Leo. She recognised Maria. Her vision seemed only slightly impaired. Her fingers and toes worked, albeit with a struggle.
‘What...what...? Tell me what’s happened.’
The spectre of unimaginable brain damage faded. It was so much more than Leo had dared hope that it was all he could do to hold back tears.
Maria couldn’t. She sobbed, openly. ‘Oh, Carla, we’ve been so frightened. You nearly died. And the Castlavaran, Anna, had to help save you.’
‘The Castlavaran...’ Carla managed. ‘What...? Tell me...’
So Leo sat beside her and held her hand and told her. He wasn’t sure if she took it all in. You didn’t suffer a bleed on the brain without some repercussions, he thought, but her state of awareness now was a huge promise of a short rehabilitation and total recovery.
‘Do you remember banging your head?’ he asked, and she looked blank.
‘The Castlavaran, Anna, banged her head.’
She was remembering. Better and better.
‘She did.’
‘And you’re dating her.’
Hell. ‘I’m not.’
‘I remember—’
‘Carla...’
‘That would be so wonderful.’
And there was no response to that. Carla’s eyes were closing. With the amount of drugs on board, the battering her brain had taken, her body was demanding sleep.
But it was sleep, not lack of consciousness. What a gift.
‘Thanks to Anna,’ Maria whispered. ‘We need to let her know.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ he said, and he left Maria watching Carla like a mother hen with her favourite chick.
We need to let her know...
He had Anna’s number. He should simply ask the receptionist to ring a message through.
But before he could do anything he was hailed from down the corridor by two young men. One was Ben, Carla’s son, who he guessed had hitched a ride in with the evacuation team from Italy. The other was Bruno, the nurse-practitioner. The evacuation team was behind them, signing in at Reception.
He hadn’t realised how tired he was until he saw them. An almost-doctor to share his load. A son to take over his love for Carla and to accompany her on evacuation. Trained paramedics to take Carla to a world-class neurologist.
‘You look like a car crash.’ Bruno’s voice was filled with concern. ‘I came as soon as I could. And here’s Ben to be with his mother. Tell us the worst, Leo.’
But it wasn’t the worst. He felt himself growing even lighter.
‘There’s every reason to think she’ll make a full recovery,’ he told them. ‘She’ll need full neurological assessment but now...the real concern is how she came to have the bleed in the first place.’
‘I can tell you that,’ Ben said grimly. ‘When I rang her last night she said she’d had a headache, then hit her head on the open bathroom cabinet and made it worse. She was making light of it but I could tell she was rattled.’
‘But she still came to work this morning.’ Hell. They were so short-staffed. Carla would have come to work with more than a sore head.
He might have done the same.
‘I’ll be having words with her,’ Ben growled. ‘I know she’s popping aspirin for her arthritis. Once she’s evacuated to Italy I’ll insist on some enforced R&R, and have her visit an arthritis specialist while she’s there.’ He coloured. ‘I have the money to afford it.’
‘There’s no need to sound apologetic,’ Bruno said. ‘I just took my so
n to Italy to have a complex fracture seen to. We each look after our own as best we can.’ He glanced up at Leo. ‘I hear we even treat Castlavarans.’
‘She’s not that bad,’ Leo said grudgingly. ‘You know she’s a doctor? She gave the anaesthetic while I operated on Carla.’
‘She did what?’ To say they were both astounded was an understatement.
‘She did all she could.’ He told them briefly what had happened. ‘She’s a talented doctor.’
‘Well, pigs might fly,’ Bruno said, and whistled. ‘All this while she had her own sore head.’
‘I need to thank her,’ Ben said. ‘She’s still here?’
‘She’s back in the castle.’
‘Well, that’s that, then,’ Bruno concluded. ‘The castle walls have been broached and sealed again.’
‘We don’t know that,’ Leo told him.
‘Really? Does she intend to help anyone else in this country? Like repair the roof on this dump?’
‘You know the Trust stops her.’
‘Then I’m not interested,’ Bruno said. ‘It was good of her to help Carla but it’s over to us again. Tell Ben where his mother is. Give me a handover, sign off with the evac team and then go home for a sleep.’
Sleep. The word was like a siren song, infinitely enticing.
But he did need to ring Anna. She deserved to know how Carla was.
‘Go on,’ Bruno growled. ‘Out of my hospital. Now.’
‘Your hospital?’
‘Okay, it’s the Castlavarans’,’ Bruno admitted. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about that. We just have to make do with the scraps they leave us.’
* * *
He wasn’t wanted.
Well, he was. There was work for him to do, but Bruno was having none of it. ‘You’re no use to us dead on your feet. You know if there’s a need I’ll call you back.’
Bruno was right. He did need to sleep, but how could he head home and sleep after a day like today? He felt wired. Disoriented.
Seeing Anna had done that to him.
He’d promised to let her know.
He went to collect her phone number from Reception but then hesitated.
Anna was less than half a mile away, within the walls of the great castle that dominated the whole island.
She was with Victoir and his precious, urgent documents. Heaven knew what he’d have her sign. Would she even think about what consequences her signature could have over so much of the island?
He glanced out toward the castle walls, vast and imposing. Victoir wanted to turn the castle into apartments for the wealthy, but everyone knew the terms of Anna’s inheritance. Funds could only be used for her welfare or the upkeep of the castle. Luxury apartments... How could Victoir get away with that under the terms of the Trust? But if he could... Would Anna realise how much it would hurt the islanders?
Despite its generations of miserly owners, the castle still seemed the beating heart of Tovahna. For hundreds of years Tovahnans had lived within the shadow of its walls. Their forebears—Leo’s forebears—had fought for it.
He’d seen Victoir’s plans. What they proposed was tearing down sections of the wall to insert massive plate-glass windows, so those lucky enough to afford to stay here could see the islanders going about their business. Victoir knew his market. He wanted the world’s rich and famous to use this as a retreat, and quaint island life—at a distance—was a marketing tool.
Did Anna know that poverty was one thing, rubbing the islanders’ noses in the riches of others was another?
He thought of Victoir’s face as Leo had agreed with Anna’s assertion that she was unfit to sign. He’d have the documents out again already, he thought. She might have already signed.
She was his patient. More, she was his colleague and she’d helped save his friend. He needed to see her.
‘It’s the least I can do,’ he muttered to himself.
And then he turned toward the castle.
He took the sea walk to the castle entrance. The walk itself did him good. It was early evening and the harbour was alive with fishing boats unloading, families coming down to help sort the catch, kids playing between lobster pots, cheerful banter between rival fishermen.
It was an idyllic setting. It disguised the grinding poverty underneath.
The idyll paled as he reached the castle walls. The massive stone fortress cast long shadows, and by the time he reached the vast oak and iron gates he felt cold.
Apartments. According to the Trust they’d have to be for Anna’s private pleasure. She was a doctor and a good one. He’d seen her immediate concern for Carla. How could Victoir’s grandiose plan ever give her pleasure?
And with that came another thought, maybe just as crazy. If medicine itself gave her pleasure then...then...
Don’t, he told himself. You’re here to protect her, make sure she’s healing. Don’t think past that.
First, face Victoir.
Islanders worked here—of course they did. They used the tradesmen’s entrance, though, but tonight Leo was damned if he’d use the tradesmen’s entrance.
He rang the bell and heard its sonorous tone echo behind the great stone walls. Few people rang this bell, he thought. Few people were welcome.
As he’d suspected, it was Victoir who answered the intercom. Victoir who controlled all intercourse between the castle and the world beyond. He’d been Yanni’s private secretary, but under Yanni’s indolent, indifferent rule his role had gone well past that.
‘Dr Aretino...’ Leo glanced up and saw cameras above his head. Of course. The castle’s massive moat was no longer used for defence, but defences were still there.
‘Victoir,’ he said, struggling to keep irritation from his voice. ‘I’m here to see Dr Raymond.’
‘She’s resting.’ His tone was curt, dismissive.
‘That’s why I’m here. She suffered concussion. She needs to be checked. I gather you refused the offer of our district nurse when you left the hospital. She needs at least one more check within the forty-eight-hour period after injury.
‘I can do that.’
The thought of Victoir checking made his skin crawl. It was all he could do to keep his voice even.
‘You’ll tell Dr Raymond I’m here to assess her medically and to give her an update on Dr Carla’s condition,’ he managed. ‘I need to hear from her personally.’
‘You’re not welcome.’
He should turn around and leave.
He didn’t.
‘You have my patient in there,’ he said, each word ringing loudly in the warm dusk. ‘I’m concerned about her head injury. I need to be assured that she’s well.’
‘You can take my word for it.’
‘That’s not enough. Unless you can produce a medical power of authority, I need to either speak to Dr Raymond myself or I’ll ask the local justice to demand access. You know I can do that, Victoir.’
The island justice would like nothing better than an excuse to demand entry to the castle and Victoir knew it. Leo heard the hesitation, the doubt, the weighing up of options.
Having the local authorities demanding entry would not suit Victoir’s sense of control.
‘She’s asleep,’ he said, and he sounded almost sulky.
‘Do you know how to differentiate between deep sleep and unconsciousness?’
Another pause. And then a heavy click and the vast gates started opening.
‘A quick check and you’re out of here,’ Victoir growled, but Leo didn’t bother to answer.
* * *
She wasn’t asleep. She’d tried hard enough. Home from the hospital, she’d felt weariness envelop her like a dead weight. It was reaction, she’d thought. She’d headed for bed in her over-the-top bedroom but she hadn’t slept.
Victoir had opened the door and
checked on her—twice—and that had freaked her out. The man gave her the creeps. She wanted to shove a chair against the door to make her secure but that’d show him he made her nervous. For some reason she didn’t want him to see that.
She was wearing her yoga gear rather than her pyjamas because that made her feel safer—but not much. She’d feigned sleep and he’d gone away.
This whole place was weird, this over-the-top castle, its living quarters a monument to excess, the rest a derelict shambles. Given other circumstances the gothic setting could have entranced her, but now, alone, her head aching, what was on the other side of her bedroom door made her shudder.
She’d thought fleetingly of ringing Martin or Jennifer. If she said she was in trouble she knew they’d be on the next plane. They were good friends and they were sensible. They’d pick her up and bundle her home.
That was what she wanted right now, her friends, her dog, her own bed in her own small cottage. And yet... Somehow the events of the last twenty-four hours had made her feel that leaving was cowardly.
But right now cowardly seemed a good way to describe her. This room seemed almost designed to make her feel insignificant, with its massive size, its vast crimson and gold wall hangings, its casement windows looking almost all the way to Italy.
There was a knock at the door and she clenched her teeth so hard she thought she might break them. At least this time he’d had the decency to knock.
‘Yes?’
‘Anna.’
It wasn’t Victoir. Leo.
Surely she shouldn’t feel relief, but she did. The tension evaporated in such a rush that she couldn’t respond. She lay absolutely still.
‘Anna?’ She must be lying too still, too rigid. There was deep concern in his voice.
Leo...concerned for her...
It made her feel like her world was settling.
She was being dumb, she thought. It was this castle that was unnerving her, this creepy gothic setting, these vast, opulent living areas, this huge bedchamber.
But Leo was here. ‘Come in,’ she called, and finally she allowed herself to open her eyes and look.
Second Chance with Her Island Doc Page 6