A Wedding in the Village

by Abigail Gordon

  They knew each other well enough as doctors, but getting to know each other as people was another matter, and after she’d watched the taillights of Luke’s car disappear into the night she went slowly up to bed.

  * * *

  When he called at the home of Owen’s friend, Luke discovered that it was the adults who were partying at that hour after the youngsters had gone home, and he breathed a sigh of relief on that score. The last thing he’d wanted was to do the heavy uncle act.

  They were both fast asleep when he looked in on them and no sounds were coming from his sister’s room. So in the quiet house he stripped out of the clothes he’d worn for the evening with Megan and lay on top of the covers, gazing out into the night.

  He knew that she hadn’t wanted him to go and he’d felt the same. But his feeling of responsibility for the boys hadn’t gone away with the return of their mother. It could easily have been a houseful of unsupervised young people partying in the house on the main street of the village.

  His last thoughts before sleep were of that kiss. It would have been so easy to take it further, but he wasn’t going to let Megan get carried away when she had reservations about him. While those remained, the future was uncertain and he was not going to cause her any grief.

  * * *

  He went round to the Gallery before it was due to open the next morning. The last thing he wanted was to discuss Sonia’s health with her in the front of other people, except for the faithful Barbara, who was carrying in a big wooden tray that contained cakes and scones when he arrived.

  ‘Have you come to persuade Sonia to get her health sorted?’ she asked, ‘Or is it Megan’s portrait you’ve come for? Sonia told me you were interested.’

  ‘I’ve come because of both,’ he told her. ‘Regarding Sonia, I’ve even brought my medical kit with me so that if she agrees to have blood tests, I can do them on the spot. If they are left until the surgery opens tomorrow, she could have changed her mind by then, but first of all I’ve got to get her to agree to have them. I’m afraid if she doesn’t, the surgery won’t be able to answer for the consequences. Anyone can see that she’s a sick woman.’

  ‘Except Sonia herself,’ Barbara commented.

  ‘Hmm. That happens a lot. Just as some people think they’re ill when they’re not.’

  ‘I’ll stay out of the way,’ Barbara told him. ‘Sonia won’t want an audience.’

  When Sonia saw him, the gallery owner said, ‘You’re an early bird, Dr Anderson. I take it that you’ve come for Megan’s portrait.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said easily, ‘and one other thing.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘Two people who care for you a lot are very worried about your health, Sonia.’

  She groaned. ‘Oh, not that again. I’m all right.’

  ‘I think we might have to differ on that. I’d like to take some blood tests, if you agree. Megan tells me that you’ve lost a lot of weight, have no appetite and are tired all the time.’

  ‘That happens to lots of people.’

  ‘Yes, it does, and in some cases it is just a temporary thing. In others it is a warning that something serious is the cause. But we aren’t going to find out if that is the case without blood tests. So, if you would just roll up your sleeve?’

  For a moment it seemed as if Sonia might refuse and then with a sigh she did as he’d asked. ‘Have you had a bad experience with the medical profession that you are so reluctant to seek help?’ he asked as he tightened the strap around a bony arm.

  ‘No, not with them. I nursed my mother with cancer of the colon, and as it progressed she looked just like I do, skin and bone. I’ve had other relatives with the same thing and now I feel that it’s my turn.’

  ‘And you aren’t prepared to do anything about it.’

  ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘The point is that it may not be cancer, and if it is, treatments are so advanced these days it doesn’t mean that it will be fatal. So shall we see what the bloods I’ve taken tell us before we jump to any conclusions?’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Sonia said listlessly, ‘and bear in mind that Megan is not to blame for any of this. She has tried repeatedly to get me to go to the surgery.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said calmly. ‘She is a good doctor and a good friend. The results of the tests should be back from the lab in two to three days. As soon as I’ve got them I’ll give you a call. And now to my other reason for being here, the portrait.’

  ‘Why do you want it? You haven’t been here long enough to know her that well.’

  ‘I know Megan from way back. She was a student of mine at university,’ he explained, ‘and the moment I saw it I realised it had been painted by a very talented artist.’

  He wasn’t going to explain that he was in love with her.

  ‘I’ve painted her many times over the years,’ Sonia told him, ‘and maybe I put everything I had into this one because I felt it was going to be my last.’

  ‘Yes, well, we’ll have to see about that,’ he said gently. ‘You’ve made a step in the right direction by letting me take the bloods and we’ll take it from there.’

  * * *

  He rang Megan when he got back to Woodcote House to tell her that he’d done the blood tests and she said, ‘Oh, thank goodness!’

  ‘Sonia’s reluctance to seek medical help is because she thinks she’s got terminal cancer,’ he explained. ‘Apparently her mother died from the illness and so have other relatives. It is almost as if she’s been expecting it and has just gone along with it. She might be right, of course, but not necessarily. There are other causes for severe weight loss, but we’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘I’m so relieved that you got through to her,’ she told him. ‘When Sonia decides on something, she doesn’t usually change her mind, like someone else I know. And now tell me what happened about the boys last night. Had the party got out of hand?’

  ‘No. The youngsters had all gone home. It was the parents living it up. So much for jumping to conclusions. I needn’t have rushed off like I did.’

  ‘You only did what you thought was right,’ she told him with a flatness to her voice. ‘You’re good at that, aren’t you? Preventing situations from getting out of hand.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I think you know,’ she told him in the same flat tone.

  There was silence for a moment and then his voice came over the line, cool and controlled. ‘Maybe I do. But I’m not the person who creates those same situations, am I? I rang to tell you about Sonia, not to become involved in a war of words, Megan. Enjoy what’s left of your weekend. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ And as the line went dead she went back to the pile of ironing that she’d been working through before Luke had phoned.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS THE amount of ironing decreased, Megan’s annoyance with herself increased. Why had she been so prickly with Luke? she asked herself. It was wonderful that he’d persuaded her stubborn friend Sonia to let him take blood tests, and his leaving in a rush the night before had been because it had been part of the task he’d set himself, looking after his fatherless nephews.

  She’d had him all to herself yesterday, had had his full attention. So why wasn’t she satisfied with that, instead of feeling that Luke was there for everyone and she was just one of many?

  It had been a day to remember, but the time they’d spent together hadn’t all been happy. There’d been his sombre rebuff when she’d kissed him and the crisis at Beresford Lodge when they’d had their meal interrupted by the manager.

  It had felt good, the two of them being involved in treating the sick woman, but when they’d returned to the dining room the promise of the evening had disappeared.

  His life was so full. Compared to it, hers was empty, she thought. She’d been content before he’d come back into her life. Seen the way ahead clearly, with her eventually falling in love with someone of a similar mind to herself and co
ntinuing to enjoy country life as she’d always done. But Luke wasn’t the only one who could be happy living at the side of a railway line as long as she was with the right man.

  She knew what had prompted him to say such a thing. He’d made one big mistake and wasn’t going to make another. While for her part she was still trying to come to terms with his past. Not a good recipe for contentment for either of them.

  When she’d put the ironing board away she decided to get out of the cottage. Go for a walk along the tops. Then have lunch at The Badger…again.

  There was a strong wind blowing when she reached the moors and unlike the day before there was a chill in the air that said summer had finally gone. Yet there were quite a few people up there. Walkers, and older folk eating their packed lunches inside the warmth of their cars as they admired the views.

  As she strode along with her head bent against the wind and hands deep in her coat pockets, she heard her name called, and when she looked round Luke and the boys were approaching from behind, flying a large kite.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ he asked when they drew level.

  ‘Nowhere in particular,’ she told him. ‘I came for some fresh air and thought I’d have lunch while I’m out.’

  Just the sight of him was banishing the blues. He looked fit and in charge, like he always did, in a leather jacket and jeans. As the wind ruffled the dark thatch of his hair she wanted to reach out and touch him, but Luke had other things on his mind.

  ‘Do you mind if we join you?’ he asked. ‘It will save me cooking. Sue and Ned have gone to the warehouse to buy the Christmas stock. We’re hoping to make a big splash this time. Trees, fresh and artificial, fairy-lights, ornaments, toys and things, and we’re opening a small café to bring in extra trade. So hopefully it’s going to be a busy time.’

  ‘We’re even having Father Christmas. I’ve been roped in for that as it was my idea. How about you assisting me as the Christmas fairy?’

  ‘I think not,’ she told him laughingly.

  ‘Why? A tinsel topping on that beautiful hair of yours would be riveting.’

  ‘I remember you suggested me as a fairy before, but in connection with the Christmas ball at Beresford Lodge. On that occasion you saw yourself as someone less likeable than Santa Claus.’

  ‘Ebenezer Scrooge, you mean? I can be very versatile, you know.’

  ‘You don’t have to convince me of that,’ she said wryly. ‘I’ve seen you in action.’ Her voice cooled. ‘But what about the practice? Are you contemplating doing both at once? Handing out the goodies and treating the patients at the same time beside the bran tub.’

  Luke was frowning. ‘No, of course not. I know that you have only one priority in your life and it’s the practice. I am not going to neglect my responsibilities there to be Santa Claus. I shall only be doing it at weekends, Saturdays and Sundays. Does that satisfy you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said lamely, feeling like the local killjoy. When an alternative to eating at The Badger appeared in the distance she said, ‘We could have lunch at The Moorend if you like. Do you remember me telling you there was a pub up here on the moors? Well, it’s just ahead of us.’

  ‘Suits me, and the lads will eat anywhere.’

  * * *

  The Moorend came a long way behind Beresford Lodge in elegance, but it did have its own atmosphere, with stags’ heads mounted on the walls and log fires in huge black fireplaces with brass fenders.

  But to Owen and Oliver the most interesting part of the place was a railway carriage of a bygone age situated on land at the back, and for a while the kite was relegated to second best in things of interest.

  Inside the railway carriage was an exhibition of paintings by local artists, a reminder of the portrait he had bought that morning, which was now concealed in his bedroom until such time as he had a place of his own. He didn’t want it on view as Sue might start asking questions that he didn’t have answers to.

  When they’d eaten of food that was plentiful but unimaginative, and were ready to make the return journey, there was a leaden sky above and thunder was rumbling in the distance.

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’ Luke said. ‘Stay put, or set off and risk a soaking? You know these parts much better than I do, Megan.’

  ‘A soaking wouldn’t be the end of the world,’ she told him, ‘but if the mists come down, as they sometimes do, without any warning, it can be dangerous.’

  ‘So as I am responsible for Owen and Oliver it would seem that the best thing to do is wait until the storm has passed.’

  ‘Mmm, and what do we do in the meantime?’

  ‘You and I can sit by the fire and relax, and I thought I saw a chessboard when we came in. It’s a game that the boys are into, so that could keep them occupied for a while. I’m sure that the landlord won’t mind, as they do seem to cater for children here.’

  The storm when it came was frightening. Thunder rumbled noisily overhead and forked lightning lit up the dark sky every few moments.

  Megan shuddered. The palms of her hands were moist, but her mouth was dry and her heartbeat was booming in her ears. Shortly after she’d begun working in the practice she’d done a home visit to a patient living in a remote cottage not far from The Moorend, and on her way back to the practice had been caught in a storm such as this. As she’d driven carefully through heavy rain and in semi-darkness a large tree that had been struck by lightning had fallen sideways onto her car.

  Fortunately the roof had held the weight of the branches long enough for her to scramble out into the storm, exchanging one moment of terror for another as she had become drenched in the heavy downpour, while thunder had continued to crash around overhead and lightning flashed too near for comfort.

  When she’d been late back her father had set out to look for her and found her crouching beside one of the dry stone walls that divided the rugged landscape, unhurt but traumatised by being exposed to the elements out of control. There hadn’t been a major storm since then, and it had brought the horror of that other time with it.

  Luke had seen her shudder and he questioned, ‘What is it, Megan? You don’t like this?’

  She shook her head and cringed as a vivid blue flash danced along one of the fluorescent tubes behind the bar and all the power went off. Fortunately there was still some degree of daylight and Luke got up from his seat at the other side of the log fire and, seating himself beside her, put his arms around her.

  ‘You’re trembling,’ he said gently as she buried her head against his chest. ‘This is some storm, but it will pass. Places like this usually have their own generator to fall back on in emergencies, so we should have some power back on soon.’

  He was stroking her hair, overcome with tenderness yet surprised that she was in such a state. But he supposed that it took all sorts of things to scare all sorts of people. Like spiders, mice or needles, to name a few. He’d seen strong men turn pale when they had to have an injection or give blood.

  But it was the first time he’d ever seen Megan not in control. Or, come to think of it, maybe it was the second. There’d been the kiss that had come out of the blue. What had triggered that he didn’t know, but he wished he’d handled it better.

  As Megan stayed in the safe circle of his arms she was thinking that Luke must be wondering where her panic was coming from. A storm was a storm. Something that came and went, but it was too close for reassurance.

  If she was afraid and Luke puzzled, the boys were neither of those things. Owen and Oliver were enjoying the thrill of the lights going out and the violence of the storm. It had taken precedence over the railway carriage and the kite.

  They were edging towards the door and Luke said calmly, ‘Don’t even think about it. You will be soaked in seconds if you go out there and the lightning is too close for safety.’

  He felt Megan shudder again and held her closer. At that moment the lights came back on, and he hoped she would feel less afraid.

  Having been forbidden to g
o outside, Owen and Oliver were turning their attention to Megan. Oliver, always first with a question, asked, ‘What’s wrong with Dr Marshall? Is she sick?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘No. Just a bit overwhelmed by the storm, that’s all.’

  ‘You mean she’s scared,’ the boy hooted.

  ‘We all have things that spook us, Oliver. Isn’t it you that’s afraid of going to the dentist?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  The landlord’s wife was going around snuffing out the candles that had been hurriedly lit when the power had gone, and she stopped beside them. ‘Isn’t the lady young Dr Marshall from the practice in the village?’ she asked, and Megan lifted her head.

  ‘Yes. That’s me,’ she said in surprise.

  ‘So why don’t you tell this young fellow what happened to you the last time we had something like this?’

  Megan shook her head, but Luke wasn’t letting that pass. ‘Tell me, Megan. I need to know what it is that you’re frightened of.’

  ‘Shortly after I joined the practice I was caught in a dreadful storm after visiting a patient not far from here,’ she said reluctantly. ‘A tree was struck by lightning and it fell onto my car. I managed to get out safely and then found myself in the middle of nowhere with thunder and lightning all around me and nowhere to shelter. My dad came looking for me eventually and took me home to safety, but my car was a write-off and I’ve dreaded being caught in another storm ever since.’

  She moved out of Luke’s arms and, looking up at him, she said quietly, ‘I’m sorry to have made such a fuss.’

  ‘And I’m sorry for what I said, Dr Marshall,’ Oliver said sheepishly.

  She threw him a pale smile. ‘You weren’t to know.’

  ‘So it isn’t just snow and ice that can make the moors and hill roads treacherous,’ Luke said soberly.

  ‘What happened that day was a one-off,’ she assured him. ‘It was just that today’s storm took me by surprise, brought it all back, but thankfully I wasn’t alone this time and I wasn’t out in it.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ he agreed grimly, ‘but it must have been a harrowing experience.’