Lachlan’s face was impassive as he wrote down the information. ‘Then we’ll make sure you and your baby have all the support you need,’ he reassured her.
Lindsay was a tough little cookie, he reckoned, noting the flash of obstinacy in her eyes. She wasn’t about to be pushed around by anybody imposing their wishes on her.
‘And do you live locally?’
‘I’m...I’m living temporary, like...with an aunt. She doesn’t know I’ve come.’ Then more belligerently, ‘And I don’t want anyone to know either.’
From that Lachlan surmised that the young girl’s family had not been supportive of her condition.
‘OK...can you tell me how many months pregnant you are?’
Lindsay shrugged. ‘Not sure...a few months maybe.’
‘Never mind—I can make a rough assessment and you can have a scan later. I’d like to take your blood pressure and get some blood from you. But I’ve got a pretty good idea why you’re feeling so dizzy.’
He took her hand in his, holding it palm down. The nails were cracked and spoon-shaped, and together with her red-rimmed eyes were reliable signs of iron deficiency. No wonder she felt so exhausted.
She looked suspiciously at Lachlan as he started to wind a sphygmomanometer cuff round her arm, propping up the scale indicator on the cupboard by the bed. He watched the dial as he pumped air into the tube, and made a note of the result without comment, then leaned back in his chair and looked at her kindly. ‘I think you need building up, and a course of iron tablets. And bed rest wouldn’t come amiss either.’
Lindsay laughed scornfully. ‘I won’t get much of that at my auntie’s. I have to give my bed up in the daytime to her daughter who works nights at an old folks’ home, and there’s four little ones running around all day.’
‘I was thinking perhaps a few days’ rest in the local hospital—just to keep a check on you and a scan to discover how many months you are. How about that?’
The girl started to protest, but in a muted way. It didn’t take much persuasion by Lachlan to make her agree, and he sensed that there was relief after her show of reluctance. The past few months had obviously been gruelling for her.
‘So you’ve an auntie who’s taken you in. What about a boyfriend?’
Lindsay blinked rapidly, trying to hold back sudden tears, and suddenly looked like the little girl she really was. ‘He...he’s in hospital. He had an accident.’
‘Does he know about the baby?’
‘’Course he does.’ She took a grubby tissue out of her sleeve and scrubbed her nose, sniffing. She twisted her hands together, screwing up the tissue and looked mournfully at Lachlan.
He smiled at her encouragingly. ‘What’s he done to himself—and which hospital is he in?’
‘He fell from a roof and he’s...he’s really badly hurt.’ She rubbed her eyes and whispered, ‘We...we was living together. Then a week ago he was with a friend... He was trying to earn some money, and it happened. I only heard about it when Carl came and told me. I don’t know how Greg is or anything... I think he’s in that St Luke’s Hospital.’
Something clicked inside Lachlan’s head. He frowned and leant forward. ‘What did you say his name is, Lindsay?’
‘Greg,’ she whispered. ‘Gregory Marsh. He said he knew a place he could get lead and stuff to sell—off someone he knew. He was doing it for me and the baby...’ She gave a hiccuping sob. ‘But he might be dead now, for all I know!’
Lachlan widened his eyes in surprise and smiled. ‘Well, well, what a coincidence! I’ve good news for you. Greg isn’t dead, although he’s badly injured. I’m going to ask my colleague Dr Lennox to join us, because she may have more information about him. You see, we both happened to be there when your boyfriend had his accident.’
Lindsay stared in a dumbfounded way at Lachlan as if trying to work out what he meant. ‘What d’you mean, you happened to be there?’ she said falteringly.
‘Because he had his accident just across the courtyard here, in the barn. Luckily we heard him fall and were able to help.’
Lachlan didn’t go into detail, or mention the dodgy circumstances that surrounded Greg’s accident—that was for another time. He lifted the internal phone and asked Christa if she could come in for a moment.
Lindsay shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. I thought he was going to a metal dealer’s,’ she mumbled. ‘The thing is, I couldn’t go back to the place we was living, not by myself. It was just a derelict building, so I went to my auntie’s. At least she took me in. But when Greg comes out, he won’t know where I’ve gone. He’ll think I’ve scarpered.’
Lindsay looked at Lachlan piteously and he felt saddened by the car crash of a life that she was having. ‘You never know,’ he said comfortingly, ‘we might be able to get a bed for you in the same hospital.’
Christa came into the room, eyebrows raised in enquiry. ‘How can I help?’ she asked.
She’d discarded her coat and was in a smart taupe-coloured suit with a slimline skirt and fitted jacket that emphasised the curves of her neat figure. Her auburn hair was drawn into a neat chignon to the back of her head and she looked cool, efficient and absolutely delectable.
Lachlan, unprepared for the jolt of his heart at her appearance, took a gulp of air. God, she was a knockout—he wasn’t used to being distracted at work by any girl, however attractive, and it slightly baffled him. He liked to be in command of himself, in charge of the situation, like he had been in Australia. Plenty of pretty girls there, but none of them had seemed to have this unsettling effect that Christa was having on him.
He pulled himself together and said briskly, ‘Ah, Dr Lennox. This is Lindsay Cooper—Lindsay, this is Dr Lennox. As I told you, she and I were at the scene when your boyfriend had his accident.’ He turned to explain the position to Christa. ‘I think that Lindsay needs bed rest and observation for a few days. Her BP’s slightly up and she has definite signs of iron deficiency. Do you think there’s any chance she could get a bed in St Luke’s, where her boyfriend is?’
Christa smiled at the apprehensive girl. ‘I’ll do my best. Hello, Lindsay, so Greg’s your boyfriend?’
Lindsay’s voice cracked slightly. ‘I want to see him. I didn’t know what had happened until Carl came and told me the next day...’
Poor kid—she looked totally exhausted and bleak, thought Christa compassionately.
‘I can tell you that he’s making good progress. He cracked one or two vertebrae in his back and his leg’s broken, but luckily these are all things that can be mended, although they’ll take some time.’ She turned to Lachlan. ‘I’ll ring Mr Foster, the gynae consultant at St. Luke’s, now and ask for Lindsay to be admitted.’
‘Don’t tell my parents where I am. Not that they care. They slung me out when they knew I was expecting anyway. They’ll only make trouble for me and the baby.’
How could parents do that to their young daughter? wondered Christa almost in despair. Her eyes met Lachlan’s in mutual sympathy for Lindsay, and he smiled down at the young girl and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
‘We won’t tell your parents if you don’t want us to. But for the sake of your baby, you need help—you’ve done the hard part, coming in here. Now let the right people help you. I’ll ask the practice nurse to help you onto the bed and then I can examine you.’
In a few minutes Sarah Duthey had helped Lindsay onto the bed and draped a towel over her lower abdomen to give an illusion of modesty. She stood by as Lachlan gently examined the high, firm mound of the girl’s abdomen, and all the time he chatted to her, feeling the tension in her body gradually relax and watching her clenched fists slacken.
‘Now I’m just trying to find out roughly how far on your pregnancy is,’ he said soothingly. ‘At the moment the baby feels fine, but Nurse here will take some blood from you so that we can run a few tests to see how well you are. Do you know what you want—a boy or a girl?’
A glimmer of a smile appeared on Lindsa
y’s lips. ‘Don’t care, so long as it’s not a garden gnome!’
The two doctors and Sarah laughed. Lindsay was beginning to trust them, and that had been achieved, thought Christa shrewdly, because Lachlan Maguire was pretty good with vulnerable, edgy people. Not everyone would have been able to get through the hedgehog prickliness that Lindsey used against the world.
‘I think from your size, Lindsay, that you’re probably seven or eight months pregnant—that means we’ve got enough time to improve your iron levels and feed you up before the baby comes,’ said Lachlan.
Lindsay propped herself up. ‘So what do I have to do now?’ she asked.
‘We’ll get an ambulance to take you to the hospital, where you’ll be able to put your feet up.’
Sarah tucked a sheet over her. ‘How about a nice cup of tea, love, while you’re waiting?’ she said.
Lindsay smiled and nodded, then lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, looking as if she could drift off to sleep there and then.
‘The poor wee lamb,’ murmured Sarah as she passed Lachlan and Christa. ‘All she needs is some TLC.’
* * *
Later, when most of the staff were having coffee after morning surgery in the little kitchen, Christa said to Lachlan, ‘You did well to get Lindsay to agree to go to hospital. I never thought she’d go.’
He grinned and shook his head. ‘I think she was secretly glad to be taken care of. She’d obviously been living rough at some point. But Mother Nature’s curious—you can get a girl who takes tremendous care of herself, eats all the right things, doesn’t smoke or drink and she can end up with all kind of problems. And here we’ve got young Lindsay, undernourished and in general poor health, and her baby seems to be developing normally and a good size.’
‘Fancy Greg Marsh being her boyfriend. God, one trembles a bit for her, relying on him to help her.’
‘I think she’s pretty clued up—she had the good sense to go to her aunt’s when Greg didn’t come back to her after the accident. She’s probably going to be the one looking after Greg!’
Alice Smith came in with a pile of files and said cheerily, ‘You’re getting a pretty good press, Lachlan. This morning several of the patients asked me if you were the hero who saved the day and moved a dangerous beam when that boy was injured. I think your surgeries are going to be booked up for months ahead! And I’ve had the local paper on the phone, wanting a photo of you both for their “People of the Month” slot—they’re coming some time today to get it into this week’s edition.’
It wasn’t surprising that patients took to Lachlan, reflected Christa. That special blend of kindliness and authority that she’d seen him display with Lindsay reminded her poignantly of another medic she’d worked with, and that was Isobel Maguire, Lachlan’s mother—the best-loved doctor in the district.
* * *
The next few days were busy but very satisfactory in that Lachlan seemed to gel into the practice well and Christa began to relax. They had no verbal spats, and the subject of the development didn’t come up. The only worry was the supposedly delicious meal she was going to provide for Ahmed Kumar, the director of information technology, and Lachlan on the Thursday evening. Eventually she’d decided on some venison in red wine and juniper berries, in her slow-cook oven.
Janet, her next-door neighbour, who always took Titan for a long walk in the middle of the day, would switch it on and by the time Christa got home it would be ready! She imagined Lachlan’s gratified and impressed smile when he took the first mouthful—hopefully so much more delicious than the ready meals he’d been microwaving!
She was surprised when she arrived home that evening to find that no tantalising smell greeted her as she went into the kitchen—just Titan galloping across the floor to give her his usual extravagant welcome. She lifted the lid of the casserole and dipped a spoon in to sample the gravy and the meat—stone cold! What had gone wrong with the blessed thing? Then she noticed with increasing horror that the light was out on the cooker. Janet must have forgotten to do it—or, more probably, Christa had forgotten to tell her!
‘Marvellous!’ she muttered, slamming the lid back on the casserole. ‘What on earth shall I do now? They’ll be here in half an hour!’
She peered hopefully into the fridge. Nothing much in it except for eggs, a few shrivelled little mushrooms and two tomatoes. Not enough for the banquet Lachlan must be expecting. She was pondering whether she had time to rush to the supermarket when the telephone rang. It was Ahmed on the line, sounding very weary and fed up.
‘So sorry, Christa, I’m still at Heathrow. I was in London for a meeting and the flight’s been cancelled. Can you believe it? I probably won’t be home till tomorrow now.’
Of course she could believe it, thought Christa wryly—it was that kind of an evening! Any minute now Lachlan would call to say he couldn’t come either, which of course would solve the dilemma she had of nothing to produce in the way of food! She commiserated with Ahmed and assured him that it didn’t matter, then flopped down in a chair as she considered what to do.
Maybe, she thought hesitantly, she should ring Lachlan and say the evening was all off for now, and they’d arrange it for another time. A funny little feeling of disappointment niggled at the back of her mind—despite the fact that Lachlan coming to be fed that evening had worried her all day.
She brought up his number on her phone, but the only response she got was for the caller to leave a message and he would get back to her as soon as possible. He was probably on his way already, she thought in a sudden panic. She just hoped he liked omelettes!
Christa flicked a look at her watch—just time for a quick shower and a change of clothes. If she couldn’t produce a good meal at least she could try and look fresh and less work-weary. She scrambled into a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting blue silk blouse, gave her hair a quick brush and her lips a quick slick of gloss just before the doorbell rang. Funny how her heart started hammering against her chest. After all, this wasn’t a date. It was just an evening together to discuss practice affairs—nothing exciting at all. Titan bounded joyfully to the door. He liked visitors, and barked a welcome.
Christa gulped nervously and murmured to Titan, ‘I should have put him off, shouldn’t I?’
But, then, she said sternly to herself, this was purely a polite social evening for two new colleagues to get to know each other, and just because Ahmed couldn’t come there was no reason why she and Lachlan shouldn’t spend the evening together.
And then she opened the door and swallowed hard as she looked at Lachlan. She had done the right thing after all! The porch light threw a sort of halo around him, investing him with a bright glamour. Like her, he had changed into jeans, as well as a loose cream sweater over an open-necked shirt. Casual suited him so much—he looked younger, more relaxed, and that Australian tan made his eyes seem bluer, his teeth whiter. She took a deep breath. She had to put his good looks to the back of her mind because, of course, she had told him friendship was the only thing on the cards—nothing else. Madness to think otherwise!
She brushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead, hoping she looked more composed than she felt, and said unnecessarily, ‘Oh, there you are!’
He stood there, smiling engagingly, with a bottle of wine in one hand and a large box of chocolates in the other, his eyes lingering for a microsecond over her tall, slender figure.
‘Hello, there, Dr Lennox! I’ve been dreaming of this meal all day. All through Mrs Phillip’s description of the trouble she’s been having with her haemorrhoids, and likewise Mr Burn’s saga about his bad feet, my stomach’s been rumbling with anticipation...’
Christa pulled a wry face. ‘Oh, God. I’m awfully sorry, but I’m afraid your dreams of a meal are going to be dashed,’ she said, leading him through to the little living room. ‘Dinner’s off, and I hope you’re not allergic to eggs!’
CHAPTER SIX
LACHLAN THREW BACK his head and laughed. ‘That’s a gre
at welcome! But an omelette would be fine—anything that doesn’t come in a fast-food packet!’
‘The thing is,’ Christa explained, ‘I forgot to tell my lovely neighbour to turn on the slow cooker, and then Ahmed rang to say he’s stuck at Heathrow. The evening’s been a disaster before it’s even started!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Lachlan, his eyes twinkling at her. ‘I think we can manage without Ahmed or the full-blown meal. Tell you what—I’ll uncork this wine and you start throwing the eggs in the pan. How about that?’
And that is what she did, and after a mushroom and tomato omelette and a bit of salad, along with two glasses of very nice Sauvignon Blanc, somehow the evening didn’t seem such a disaster after all.
There wasn’t a dearth of conversation—Lachlan had plenty of questions to ask about the practice, and although they talked about improvements to the surgery, the vexed question of the development of the land never came up.
The dining table was in an alcove in the little sitting room, and a wood fire burned in the grate—it all looked cosy and warm. Christa had decorated the walls in a soft cream and the sofa and chairs were covered in modern striped upholstery. Lachlan looked around approvingly, taking in the neat pine dresser against the wall and the little desk under the window—just the right size for the room.
‘This is a lovely little place,’ he said. ‘You seem to have struck just the right note. Not too old-fashioned, and it looks bright and fresh. I’m at a complete loss to know what to do with Ardenleigh. The rooms are beautiful, but I’ve not a clue how to furnish them. I’d like a fresh start, I think.’
The wine seemed to have loosened Christa’s tongue and she found herself saying brightly, ‘Could I help at all? I rather enjoy planning the colours in rooms’
He pounced on the idea enthusiastically. ‘That would be fantastic! Let’s make a firm date for you to come and look at it all. The place is really far too big. I’m beginning to realise that, and yet, well, it’s such a beautiful house, and although there’s just me, it’s always been a dream of mine to live in it again.’
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