Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  ‘A year?’ Lois asked, sounding horrified.

  ‘A year,’ Charlie said quietly.

  ‘You’ll still be beautiful,’ Sophie promised, still holding Lois’s hand. ‘Charlie’s stitching is amazing. He’s the best plastic surgeon I’ve ever worked with.’ And it wasn’t just an empty reassurance: she’d seen the way Charlie worked. ‘I trust him.’

  ‘I’ll put a dressing on when I’ve finished—it’s what we call tulle gras. It’s a light dressing of a fabric called tulle. It has petroleum jelly in it, so it lets any fluids pass through to the outside, but doesn’t let anything back in. And, more importantly, it doesn’t stick to the skin. I should be able to take the stitches out in two or three days,’ Charlie said, ‘and then you’ll need micropore tape on the scars for a few days to help protect and support the wounds.’

  ‘Is it going to hurt?’ Lois asked.

  ‘I’ll try very hard not to hurt you,’ Charlie promised.

  Sophie stayed with Lois while Charlie cleaned and stitched the wounds and Lois gave her statement to the police. When the urine tests came back, Sophie was relieved to see that there wasn’t any evidence of blood in it. ‘I think you’re going to be lucky with just bruising,’ she said, ‘but I’d like to keep you in overnight, just in case you start to get any pain in your back around your kidneys.’ Sometimes, with trauma to the kidneys, haematuria was delayed. ‘If you’d like to come up to the ward with us, I’ll admit you. You’ll be safe there,’ she added. ‘Nobody can hurt you. Do you want me to call anyone for you?’

  Lois shook her head.

  ‘What about your mum?’

  Not that Sophie had called her mum. She hadn’t breathed a word about it. She’d felt too ashamed. Dirty.

  ‘I can’t. I can’t ring her. Her boyfriend …’ Lois shuddered.

  Obviously a strained relationship that wouldn’t take the extra weight of what had just happened to Lois, Sophie thought. ‘It’s OK. Everything’s going to be all right,’ Sophie said. ‘I know right now it feels like the end of the world but, I promise you, you’ll get through this.’

  Not meeting Charlie’s gaze, she helped Lois up, and together they walked up to the surgical ward.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘SOPHIE?’ Charlie stood in her office doorway.

  She looked up from her paperwork. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  He didn’t know. But he had a strong feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. He closed the door behind him. ‘May I sit down?’

  She shrugged. ‘If you want.’

  She sounded so brittle, as if she’d crack at the slightest pressure. He needed to be careful here. ‘I could be barking up the wrong tree, so if I am just tell me to go away. But I think Lois is a heartstrings case for you.’ Like that burns case had been for him.

  Sophie refused to look at him. ‘It shouldn’t happen to any woman.’

  ‘I agree with you. But I think there’s more to it than that.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Sophie, you should have gone off duty an hour ago. But you sat with Lois from the moment you finished your ward round until she fell asleep.’

  ‘As I would do with any patient in that position. She didn’t have anyone with her.’

  Her jaw was set, so clearly she didn’t want to talk about it. But Charlie couldn’t leave it. She was hurt. And he wanted to make her feel better—the same way she’d made him feel better the other night. ‘You’re off duty as of now. So am I. I’m getting a taxi back to my place, and you’re coming with me.’

  ‘What?’ Her eyes narrowed.

  ‘I owe you,’ he said simply. ‘You fed me and gave me some space when I had the day from hell. I’m doing the same for you. And we’re friends—aren’t we?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘What, after you set your sister on me?’

  He frowned. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘The other day. When you were at Harley Street.’

  It was his turn to narrow his eyes. ‘How do you know where I was?’

  ‘Vicky told me how you spend your days off.’

  He waited a beat. ‘And you’re going to lecture me about private medicine now?’

  ‘I would have done,’ she admitted. ‘Until Vicky told me the rest of it. That you blagged private theatre time and didn’t charge your patients. You specialise in kids.’

  Charlie exhaled sharply. His interfering baby sister! ‘She had no business telling you about that.’

  ‘Why was she checking me out?’

  Charlie closed his eyes. Oh, great. Sophie was bright enough to see through whatever pathetic excuse Vicky had used. Of course she’d guessed what Vicky was really up to. Seb had obviously spilled the beans to Vicky, who’d decided to give Sophie the once-over and make sure that she wasn’t another Julia, someone who would hurt him desperately. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. My siblings are a bit over-protective.’

  ‘Making sure you don’t hook up with a gold-digger?’

  Sick joke. He may have a title and a country estate with a vast pile of a building in the middle, but as for the actual folding stuff … no chance. Not after the inheritance tax they’d had to pay on the estate. And the house just ate money. Yes, he was wealthy on paper—but only on paper. His money was tied up in the estate. Anyway, he knew Sophie wasn’t a gold-digger. ‘No. I’ll scalp Seb later. And I apologise if my sister grilled you.’

  ‘What did you tell them about me?’

  ‘I didn’t tell Vicky anything. And Seb just …’ Charlie rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I don’t want to have this conversation, Sophie. Right now, I just want to feed you and make you feel better.’

  ‘Like I did to you?’

  ‘Yeah. No strings. I’m not going to leap on you or anything. I’ll just give you some space to be you.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘I can’t offer you any decent cake, I’m afraid. But, unless Vicky raided my stash, I have chocolate.’

  ‘You live with your brother and sister?’

  He shook his head. ‘I live on my own. Not even a hamster to keep me company—it wouldn’t be fair to have a pet, working doctor’s hours.’ Though how he missed having a dog. ‘Come on. Turn off the computer and come home with me. I make a mean bacon sandwich. And I’m willing to bet it’s better than whatever you’d get in the hospital canteen or the greasy spoon down the road.’

  For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Then she leaned back against her chair, almost in defeat. ‘OK. Thank you.’

  The taxi was waiting for them outside the side entrance to the hospital. Charlie held the door open for Sophie, then slid in beside her. He gave his address to the taxi driver, then lapsed into silence. He wasn’t going to pressure her to talk now. But she’d definitely talk in his kitchen. The bacon sandwich would make sure of that.

  Sophie’s eyes widened as she realised where Charlie lived—a very fashionable part of Hampstead, where the house prices were astronomical—but she made no comment as he showed her up to his second-floor flat.

  It wasn’t furnished the way she’d expected, though. Not dark colours and full of antiques and heirlooms. The walls were painted a sunny primrose yellow, the carpet was plain Berber wool and the furniture was modern. Not expensive-looking either. There were a couple of watercolours on the walls which she assumed were originals, but they were rural waterscapes and easy on the eye. About the only concessions to family were three framed photographs: one of Charlie with Vicky; one of Charlie with a slightly younger man who looked so like him Sophie assumed it must be Seb; and one of what looked like Charlie as a teenager, with an older man she assumed was his father.

  Not that she had a chance to see much as he shepherded her into his kitchen. This room was equally unassuming, though there was a scrubbed pine table in the middle and he had one of those huge American fridges her mum drooled over but hadn’t bought because they were too big to fit in her kitchen.

  ‘Are you on cal
l?’ he asked.

  ‘Not officially. But I’ve asked the night staff to bleep me if Lois’s obs take a dip. Any sign of haematuria and I’ll be there.’

  ‘OK. We’ll skip the wine, then. Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Whatever’s to hand.’

  ‘Coffee’s safer.’ He smiled. ‘Seb says my tea is undrinkable.’

  She knew he was trying to make her feel relaxed. But how could she? How could she chill out when tonight had brought it all back to her?

  He made them both a mug of coffee—fresh rather than instant, she noticed, and the bag of beans he took from the fridge and ground by hand looked as if it had come from a specialist shop. But what else should she expect from a baron? He probably did his grocery shopping at Fortnum and Mason or Harrods.

  But, oh, the coffee smelt good. And it tasted even better.

  ‘My local butcher does the best bacon in the world,’ Charlie announced, as if reading her mind. He placed the bacon under the grill. ‘I try to buy from the local shops where I can, rather than the supermarkets.’

  Because he believed in being part of the community? Yeah, she could believe that. Charlie Radley had integrity. And he was nothing like the person she’d thought he’d be.

  She watched him as he sliced tomatoes, buttered granary bread and spread a layer of wild rocket on top. ‘It has more taste than lettuce,’ he said.

  She really hadn’t thought she could face eating anything tonight. But Charlie’s sandwich smelled fantastic.

  ‘It’s all organic,’ he said, layering the sandwich together then putting the plate in front of her. ‘Promise. Just one bite, Sophie. That’s all I’m asking.’

  She took a bite of the sandwich. ‘You’re right. You make a mean bacon sarnie.’ And, right now, it was just what she needed. ‘Thanks.’

  He smiled, but didn’t push her. He just let her eat her sandwich and drink her coffee. When she’d finished, he topped up her mug and brought out a box of dark chocolate thins. Organic, seventy per cent cocoa solids—and the most incredible chocolate hit.

  This was comfort food at its very best. And he was clearly hoping it would make her talk. Tell him what was wrong.

  But how could she explain?

  She was so near to telling him. But something was holding her back. Didn’t she trust him? Was she worried about his reaction? ‘It’s better out than in,’ Charlie said softly.

  ‘I …’ She shook her head.

  ‘If it helps, I know the value of privacy. Whatever you tell me stays just between you and me.’

  She gulped. ‘It was a long time ago. I’m over it.’

  ‘Even so. Right now, I think you need to talk. And I’m listening.’ He wanted to pull her onto his lap and hold her close, but he knew it would set all her defences in motion. So he sat quietly and waited, his hands cupping the mug of coffee.

  ‘I was a student,’ she said eventually, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘My final year. I’d been working late in the library. I was walking back to my flat. I’d done it hundreds of times. There was nothing different about that night.’ There was a far-away look on her face, mixed with disgust and horror. ‘And then … there were three of them. They lived near me. Always out partying. The sort that used to be known as Hooray Henrys. There was a gang of them—some were medics, some were lawyers. The medics gave me a hard time in class because I was common and they weren’t.’ She grimaced. ‘It didn’t go down well that I got better marks than they did in exams. Though God only knows how they scraped through—I often wonder if Daddy greased a few palms.’

  Charlie felt all his muscles tense. Suddenly he knew what she was going to tell him. And he wanted to punch something. Someone. Preferably whoever had hurt her.

  But that wouldn’t solve anything now. She’d started to open up, and he wasn’t going to interrupt her.

  ‘That night … they’d been out drinking. There were just three of them, staggering down the road. Egging each other on. I should’ve just ignored them when they started cat-calling me. If I hadn’t responded, they’d have got bored. They’d have just drunk themselves into a stupor. But, no, I had to make some stupid, smart-alec comment. The next thing I knew.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘I was on the ground. They were on me. All three of them. Saying I was a tease, that I wore tight jeans to class just to turn them on. And teases get what they ask for. They knew I wanted it. So I was going to get it. They were going to take what they wanted.’ She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘They ripped my clothes. They touched me. I tried to fight them off, but they were too strong. Three against one. They—they told me they were going to have me. All at the same time. They were going to—going to … Oh, dear God.’ She choked. ‘I don’t know why they stopped. I think they must have heard somebody coming. But they got off me. I left my books where they’d fallen and just ran while I had the chance. I don’t know if they followed me. I just concentrated on getting home. I locked my door and I scrubbed myself until my skin bled, and still I couldn’t get clean. And I couldn’t stop hearing them.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Them and their posh voices.’

  No wonder she hated upper-class men. Charlie couldn’t handle the distance between them any more. He scraped his chair backwards, walked round to her and put his arms round her, holding her close. ‘Oh, Sophie. That kind of behaviour is unacceptable from any man.’

  ‘They were rich and they were posh, so they thought they had the right to do anything they liked to me.’

  ‘Well, they thought wrong. Very wrong. Nobody has that sort of right.’ He stroked her hair. ‘Did you report it?’

  ‘They didn’t actually r—’ She swallowed the word back. ‘There was no p-penetration involved. Technically, there was no crime.’

  ‘Technically, it was still assault,’ Charlie said. ‘They touched you without your consent. So you could have reported it, sweetheart.’

  ‘I tried. I talked to my tutor about it. But who are you going to believe?’ Her eyes were bleak. ‘Three blokes whose fathers donate a lot of money to the university, or one common East End girl?’ She shuddered. ‘He called them in to explain themselves. They said …’ She took a shaky breath. ‘They said I’d been out drinking with them. That I’d been leading them on. It was a game that got out of hand. They were having a bit of fun, that was all, and I was telling tales because I hadn’t got what I wanted. They lied. And … and the tutor believed them.’

  ‘That’s outrageous.’ Charlie lifted her from her chair and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. He held her close to him, his cheek against her hair. ‘It should never have happened.’

  ‘What could I do about it? I didn’t want to be thrown out of med school.’

  He frowned. ‘Why would they do that when you were the victim?’

  ‘Because I was making a fuss. Being a troublemaker.’

  ‘No, you were telling the truth.’ He stroked her hair. ‘What they did—what your tutor did—was morally wrong. Did you tell your parents?’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘I didn’t want them to worry. I was up in Manchester—they’d have wanted me to come back home and forget the exams. And then my studying would all have been for nothing. All the sacrifices they made so I could go to med school, they’d have been for nothing. I couldn’t do that to them.’

  ‘What about the men? They hurt you and got away with it. They could have done it to someone else.’

  ‘But they didn’t.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘I think it was a wake-up call, because they didn’t think I’d actually tell someone about them. Yeah, they got away with it—but it made them think twice. They kept a low profile after that and so did I.’ She shivered and nestled closer to him. ‘I learned self-defence after that. I swore nobody would ever treat me like that again.’

  ‘Tell me their names,’ Charlie said softly, between clenched teeth, ‘and I’ll find them. And forget the Hippocratic oath—I’ll do some surgery on them. With a rusty scalpel and no anaesthetic.’

  ‘It wouldn’t change wh
at happened.’

  ‘No. But it’d make me feel better. I’m sorry, Sophie. I’m sorry they did that to you. I’m sorry they hurt you. And if I could make it better, I would.’ He rubbed his cheek against hers. ‘But I don’t know how to make you feel better.’

  ‘Just … keep holding me …’ The words sounded almost like tissue paper ripping. As if she didn’t want to say them, but couldn’t help herself.

  She wanted him to hold her.

  ‘I’ll never hurt you, Sophie,’ he whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. ‘Not all men are like that.’

  ‘I know.’

  Mmm, but he had the feeling she didn’t include men from his social background in that statement. ‘Not all upper-class men are like that,’ he added. Though, he thought with a stab of guilt, his brother was a louse towards women. ‘Did you get any counselling?’

  ‘How could I? Nobody believed me.’

  ‘Not even your boyfriend? Your best friend?’

  ‘I felt too dirty to tell them.’ Sophie swallowed hard. ‘I … I dumped my boyfriend after that. I couldn’t stand him touching me.’

  ‘And you haven’t told a boyfriend since?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  No. Because it would be very, very difficult to talk about it.

  But she’d told him about it. She’d trusted him enough.

  ‘I believe you,’ he said softly.

  She made no comment, simply put her arms round him and cuddled into him. ‘I worked hard. I wanted to make sure they couldn’t spoil my career as well as everything else. I wasn’t going to let them make me fail my exams.’

  ‘And you’ve done well. More than well. You’re an excellent surgeon.’ He brushed his lips against her cheek again. ‘If I hadn’t come along, you’d be consultant now.’

  ‘I’m not holding that against you.’ Her voice was shaky, but there was an edge of laughter in it.

  ‘Good.’ He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. ‘You’re a brave woman, Sophie Harrison.’