“What were you thinking, Len?” Bram said the minute he was aboard. “Letting her do that? She could have been killed.”
“Thanks for coming to my rescue, Len,” Len said. “Oh, that’s okay, Bram me old mate, anytime.”
Bram glared at him for a moment, then roared with laughter. Len clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good to have you back, son,” he said.
“Someone here to see you,” Lally said as she stepped through the curtain.
Katie turned her face into her pillow. “I don’t want to see anyone,” she mumbled.
“I hope you’ll see me,” David said as he stepped up to the bed. He smiled at Lally and she nodded and withdrew.
“What are you doing here?”
“Regan called me,” he said.
“You didn’t have to come.”
“But I did. When I asked you if we could try again, I…”
“We had Jay then,” she said. “It was different. There’s nothing left.”
“What about love? I still love you, Katie. I think… I think we should be together, now more than ever.”
“You’re just saying that,” she murmured, voice leaden with misery. “You feel sorry for me.”
“No,” he said. “I feel sorry for myself. For what I’ve lost, for what I threw away. This was my fault, all of it.”
“It wasn’t. It was mine. I should have let you come back when you asked, but I wanted to make you suffer… well I certainly did that.”
She broke into sobs and David sat on the bed and hugged her.
“We can go on blaming ourselves for the rest of our lives or we can start over. Will you come back with me when I leave, Katie? I’ll take care of you, I swear and I will never hurt you again.”
Lally stood on the other side of the curtain, her fingers crossed. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she wanted to be there in case Katie sent him away, so she could send him straight back in.
She didn’t hear what Katie said, but it was followed by a cascade of weeping and when she peeked in, they were holding each other as if they’d never let go.
Brushing away a tear, she hurried away from the ward. By the time she got to the corridor, she was sobbing herself.
“You’re not that dismayed to see me are you, Lally?” Len said and she couldn’t hold back. She ran into his arms. He smelled of salt and boats. “We got them. Bram’s down in A&E now. They’re both fine, apart from his smashed ankle that is.”
“And so are you,” she said. “I’m so relieved.”
“Me?” he laughed. “I’m always all right, me. I’m not the one throwing himself off cliffs.”
“Bram didn’t exactly…”
“I’m talking about you, brave, wonderful lady,” he said. And then he kissed her and Lally’s world turned upside down, then righted itself again. She had never expected to fall in love again, but it seemed she had and it was wonderful.
After the snow came a brief relatively warm spell and a couple of days of rain. It soon washed the snow away and it only persisted in dirty little heaps where it had been piled up.
Regan held tight to Georgie’s hand and hurried along the hospital corridor. She hadn’t been to visit Bram, although she’d been to the hospital to take Georgie to have her cast removed and a couple of times to visit Stanley who was well on the road to recovery now. But she couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Georgie was chomping at the bit wanting to see him. She’d insisted on buying him a balloon from the hospital shop.
It said “Get well Daddy!” on it in big blue letters.
She stopped dead outside the ward. Now was not the time to have a panic attack. She hadn’t been to see him since the night they were rescued. They’d said some daft things to each other in the heat of the moment and she was terrified he’d be regretting the things he said.
And what if he’d been delirious with pain and didn’t know what he was saying? It was foolish and premature to think she’d been forgiven.
“Come on, Mummy,” Georgie pulled on her hand and she winced a little. Her hands were bruised, her fingernails brutally short where they’d been smashed. She’d been completely shocked when she saw the extent of her injuries, all minor thankfully, but hardly any part of her body had escaped unscathed.
Bram had always said you didn’t feel pain when you were on a rescue. At last she understood what he meant.
She took a deep breath and stepped into the ward.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching for his crutches and one of the younger nurses was rushing over to him.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he said wearily.
“Let me help you. You’re not supposed to…”
“I can manage perfectly well,” he said, pushing her well-meaning hands away. “I don’t need any help. Thank you, love, I know you mean well, but I don’t want anyone to hold my hand.”
The nurse’s expression darkened.
“I have a job to do and that includes making sure you don’t fall over or collapse on your way to the bathroom.”
Georgie looked up at Regan and grinned.
“It’s about time you learned to do as you were told, Bram Fletcher,” Regan said as they hurried over to the bed.
His face lit up when he saw them. Well, Georgie anyway.
“A balloon,” he said. “Brilliant!”
Regan stepped forward. “I can leave you two for a while,” she offered. “Make myself scarce. I’ll come back for Georgie later. But Bram, if you need to go to the bathroom, accept the help on offer.”
She turned, ready to make her escape when his voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Get yourself back here,” he said. She turned slowly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard,” he said and then he grinned and the ice in her heart melted as he patted the bed. “Come and sit with us. We have a lot to talk about.”
“We do? I thought you needed the bathroom?”
“That was just a ploy,” he winked at the nurse. “Sorry. I just wanted to get off the ward for a few minutes.”
“It’s all right,” Regan told her. “I’ll make sure he behaves.”
She moved closer and pulled up a plastic chair, sitting a safe distance away.
Georgie sat on the bed staring at the cast on Bram’s foot.
“Want a pen?” he said and she giggled.
“Yes, please.”
He’d already had a few people write on it and had a thick marker pen at the ready. Georgie carefully wrote her name, then enclosed it in a big wonky heart.
“That is fantastic,” Bram said. “Now I need a hug! Have you got one for me?”
She scrambled up and sat on his lap. She looked so cosy. Regan couldn’t remember sitting on her dad’s lap. Ever.
“I’m moving back into my old camper van,” he said and Regan’s heart jolted with alarm. Was he planning to move on again?
“Why?”
“I’ve agreed to let Doug move into the flat. He’s been living in the van and going home at weekends, but he’s keen to make his position permanent and if he moves into the flat he’ll be able to bring his wife and kids here.”
“But you can’t stay in a camper van with a broken ankle.”
“Well, I can’t leave it behind,” he said and she couldn’t help laughing along with him. “I managed fine in the van before.”
“You are not sleeping in a camper van in this weather,” Regan said.
“Am I not?” His eyes shone with amusement.
“You can stay with us,” she said before she could stop herself.
“What about my dogs?”
“They can come too.”
“And cats?”
“Of course.”
“You are a very special lady, do you know that? It’ll be a bit cramped, but it’ll do until we get ourselves somewhere bigger.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Regan,” he s
aid. “Are your ears still full of salt water?”
He nudged Georgie when he said that and they both laughed.
“Let me get this straight. You think we should move in together?”
“You were the one who suggested it?” He looked at Georgie and did an exaggerated innocent shrug which made Georgie giggle even harder.
“No, I didn’t… Well yes, I did, but who said anything about getting somewhere bigger?”
“I did.” He rolled his eyes. “Keep up!”
Regan shook her head. Two pairs of identical blue eyes laughed merrily at her.
“We will of course have to get married.” When he said that, he did the biggest wink at Georgie and they both burst out laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” Regan said. She was on her feet now, closer to the bed, her heart going wild behind her ribs. “Stop it! Both of you! This is our future you’re laughing and joking about. You can’t turn everything into a game. Moving in together, getting married, it’s all serious and…”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Regan,” he said and grabbed her, pulling her close and kissing her. She tried to wriggle free, to protest, but his lips were very insistent and somewhere in the background she could hear Georgie laughing and clapping.
And it was a very nice kiss.
When he let her go, her eyes were still closed, her lips still parted. She ran her tongue over them, tasting him, wondering when she was going to wake up.
“When we were on the beach you said, and I quote, ‘I love you, you stupid great lump! I love you and I don’t want to lose you.’ Were you just saying that, or did you mean it?”
She opened her eyes, still feeling wonderfully dizzy from his kiss.
“Of course I meant it,” she said.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer again.
“They’re discharging me tomorrow. I’ve nowhere else to go. Well, apart from the cold, lonely camper van.”
Georgie tugged at Regan’s sleeve. “Say yes, Mummy!” Then she turned to Bram. “Can I call you Daddy now?”
Regan saw the laughter die in his eyes to be replaced with pain, sweet pain. “Oh, honey,” he murmured. “I would love it if you did. And you,” he squeezed Regan’s fingers. “I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you again. Seriously. Will you marry me?”
Regan hugged him, resting her head against his chest, feeling the fast thud of his heart. Her big, brave man was afraid she’d turn him down.
He kissed her head and murmured, “I’ll give up being a lifeboatman if that’s what it takes.”
She gasped. “You don’t have to,” she said, tears trickling from her eyes. “It won’t make any difference.”
“Oh.” He sounded deflated and dejected. “I see.”
“No, you don’t see,” she straightened up and cupped his dear, battered face in her hands. “I love you, Bram. Yes, I’ll marry you – unconditionally.”
Georgie leapt off the bed and began to twirl round.
“I’m doing a happy dance!” she yelled. “My mummy and daddy are getting married.”
A cheer went round the ward and patients and staff broke into spontaneous applause, but Regan could barely hear it for the singing in her heart.
They’d wasted far too much time already. The future was theirs and from now on there’d be no looking back.
THE END
© Teresa Ashby
Teresa Ashby has been writing short stories, serials and pocket novels since the 1980s for magazines in the UK and abroad – she welcomes visitors to her blog
http://teresaashby.blogspot.com/
Dangerous Love Page 16