‘This is the deal. New software, particularly third-sector software, isn’t easy to get off the ground. Not many people want to stick their necks out and be the first to use a program that has no demonstrable track record, however good it is. I need an organisation that’s forward looking enough to try something new, and in return I’m willing to work with you to make sure that the software meets your needs.’
‘Bit of a catch-22 situation, really.’ He ran his hand through his short-cropped hair, although whether it was to smooth it or create further disarray she wasn’t sure.
‘No more than the one you’re already in. I’ve done some research and you fit the profile for the kind of organisation I want as clients. You’re small, innovative and successful, and you’re looking to expand. A good software system will help facilitate that, but I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of spare cash to spend on it.’ She took a breath. Her profile stipulated a drugs charity as well, but they didn’t need to know that.
He nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘I imagine there’ll be some surprises along the way.’
‘I’m hoping we’ll be able to learn from each other. That always involves an element of surprise, doesn’t it?’ She gave a small shrug to indicate that the question was a rhetorical one, even though she wasn’t very confident about the notion. Sam would bet good money that Euan Scott had plenty of surprises up his sleeve and generally, in software terms, surprise was not a good word.
‘Why are you doing this?’
The question came straight out of the blue and smacked her between the eyes. ‘You mean why do I produce software?’
‘No, it’s clear that you’re very good at that. I want to know why you’re so committed to what’s essentially a free piece of software. Why you’re devoting so much time to something that’s not going to bring you any financial rewards.’
She had a well-rehearsed answer for that. ‘As you’ll have seen from my personal CV, I was the director and co-owner of a very successful software company. Two years ago, when I sold up, I had the choice of going somewhere sunny and sipping cocktails or doing something that I love and giving a little back at the same time.’
‘You don’t like cocktails? Or sunshine?’ He looked almost affronted at the thought.
‘I like them both, actually. When I’m on holiday.’
His heavy-lidded eyes were probing, looking for the real answer. There was no judgement there, no expectation. He gave you the feeling that he could accept and understand pretty much anything, as long as it was the truth.
‘I...’ She took a breath. ‘I’m doing what I do best in an effort to help a cause that I feel very strongly about. I have...personal reasons.’
His gaze held hers for a moment and then released her. A strange, almost dizzy feeling that she was about to slide from her chair onto the floor, and then he nodded. ‘Yeah. I can understand that.’
* * *
David had seen her off the premises with a promise to call with their decision. When he walked back into his office he was shaking his head, smiling.
‘Well, that was a turn-up for the books.’
‘I thought you said that Sam Lockyear was a man.’ She was all woman. From the crown of her immaculately coiffed head to... Euan decided he’d already given far too much head room to the thought of her perfectly manicured toes.
‘I thought she was. Easy enough mistake to make, I suppose, with the name, but you’ve seen her emails. None of the women I know write emails like that.’
Euan saw David’s point. Concise, almost to the point of being brusque, and devoid of anything that might be construed as a pleasantry, Sam’s emails had given no hint of the delights that meeting her in person had brought. ‘So what do you think?’
David snorted with laughter, flopping down into his chair. ‘Don’t pass the buck. What do you think? It’s you she’s going to be shadowing for two weeks, not me.’
‘I don’t think she’s given us much choice. The program’s great, and the offer she’s made is too good to pass up. I’m not sure how she’s going to fit in at the clinic, but we can deal with that one when we come to it.’
David nodded thoughtfully. ‘What do you suppose the “personal reasons” are?’
‘Does it matter?’ Euan had been wondering about that too.
‘You tell me.’
Euan’s own personal reasons were a matter of record. In any other line of work his ex-wife’s addiction, and the marriage that had been smashed by drugs, would have been no one’s business but his own. But he demanded honesty from those around him, and could give no less himself.
‘She’s not directly involved with our work, she’s just going to be observing. All we need to know is that the software’s going to work for us.’
‘You’re beginning to sound convinced about this.’
‘I’m open to changing my view. As always.’ Euan rose from his chair, checked his wallet and found it empty. ‘Will you call her? I’ve got to go to the bank and get some cash. And pick up something else to eat.’
‘So your best advice is to go with the flow, eh? Feel our way...’
Perhaps not anything as tactile as that. ‘If she’s willing to spend two weeks with us to find out more about what we do, I’ll do my best to...accommodate her.’
Euan batted at the ball of crumpled paper David had tossed at his head, smirking as it dropped neatly into the bin. He’d deal with the mysteries of jemmying the more intangible aspects of his work into computerised classifications when he came to it. Two small sandwiches for lunch wasn’t enough and he was still hungry.
* * *
It appeared that Sam Lockyear wasn’t going to be relegated to the bottom of his list of priorities without a struggle. Although the bank was in the other direction, a brisk walk along the promenade wasn’t much of a detour, and it was Euan’s preferred route, particularly when his head was still full of the dim echoes of last night.
If he hadn’t stopped to lean against the thick stone wall between pavement and beach for a few moments and stare out to sea, he wouldn’t have seen her. A hundred yards further along the seafront she would have been lost in the crowd if it hadn’t been for the bright flash of her red jacket, draped over the back of her chair. She sat at a table at one of the open-air cafés that sprang up at the edge of the beach in summer, bare legs stretched out in the sun, her silky blouse open at the neck and shivering against her shoulders in the breeze.
Euan wondered whether she wanted some company, and decided that he didn’t. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t watch her for a few more moments. Her head jerked suddenly and she reached for her bag, checking the display on her phone before answering it.
It was probably David. Euan wondered what his partner’s reaction would have been if he could have seen the way she absently pulled the clips from her hair as she talked, shaking her head slightly to let the breeze style it around her shoulders in a mass of shining, dark strands.
She was looking at her phone now, as if she was checking back on the conversation she’d just had. Then, laying it on the table beside her, she punched the air in a motion that shouted of both joy and accomplishment.
Euan found himself smiling as he watched her jump to her feet, clearly apologising to a waiter, who she’d almost caught with her flailing arm. A laughing exchange and she accepted a coffee cup from him then pointed to the menu.
It was impossible not to wait and watch her sit down, hug herself and take a few sips from her cup. When the waiter returned, Euan smiled. An ice-cream sundae, which looked as if she’d ordered all the trimmings with it, and which she received with obvious joy and tucked into straight away.
Maybe she’d fit in at the clinic a little better than he’d thought. He turned away from the sea, heading for the bank by the more direct route, turning that thought over gently in
his mind.
CHAPTER TWO
HIS SECOND IMPRESSION of Sam was just as baffling as the first. Euan had hardly recognised her when she banged on the door of the Driftwood Initiative’s offices at eight-thirty the following Saturday morning. The weak sunshine was diluted by clouds, but in what looked like overkill her eyes were shaded by both sunglasses and the peak of a cap. If she’d turned up at the clinic looking like that, he might have wondered what they concealed.
She nodded a hello, took the hat off and stuffed it into the pocket of her cargo pants. Without high heels, her face clean of make-up and her hair caught in a plait that snaked over her shoulder and tangled with the strap of her courier bag, she seemed younger, more fragile. Her green leather jacket wasn’t too battered, but it wasn’t too new either, and scuffed on one shoulder, as if she’d been in the habit of leaning in doorways.
‘I hope I’m not too early.’
The remark might have been construed as condescending, given that she’d travelled down from London this morning and Euan lived ten minutes’ walk away. There was nothing in her face that betrayed anything other than a straightforward question, but Euan still couldn’t see her eyes.
‘No.’ He indicated the mug in his hand. ‘Just in time for coffee.’
‘Good.’ She picked up the soft travelling bag at her feet and he stood back from the door, locking it shut behind her.
‘Let me take that.’ He gestured towards her bag and she hesitated, giving it to him with an air of slight suspicion, as if she thought he was about to run off with it.
‘Would you like to see the bedsit upstairs? It’s not very big...’ Euan decided to concentrate on the practicalities first.
‘That’s fine. All I need is a bed and a bathroom.’ She seemed different as well as looking different. The assured businesswoman had disappeared completely, as if she’d sloughed that identity off along with the red suit.
He motioned her up the stairs, careful not to touch her as he squeezed past her in the small space outside David’s office and opened the door to the narrow, dark staircase that led to the loft apartment. The smell of disinfectant drifted down the stairs, and then the subtler scent of freshly washed linen.
‘This is great.’ She glanced into the cubbyhole that boasted two easy chairs and a small coffee table and made her way straight through to the slightly larger area, which contained a bed and the smallest wardrobe known to man. Euan dumped her bag onto the bed and she sat down next to it, bouncing up and down slightly. ‘Good mattress. That’s all I need.’
Her smile seemed genuine enough, but it had done the last time they’d met. ‘Is this okay for the clinic?’ She spread her arms, looking down at her costume. That was what it seemed like, a consummate actress wearing a costume for a part. ‘David told me not to dress up, so I came as I am.’
‘This is how you are?’ The question seemed a bit forward, but it slipped out before Euan had a chance to stop it.
‘Yes.’ She grinned, finally taking off the sunglasses. Her grey eyes were the same, at any rate. Thoughtful and clear, almost luminous, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen on a woman. ‘I’m a code-hacker at heart.’
Her smile was still infectious too, and before he knew what he was doing Euan had smiled back. ‘And this is what a code-hacker looks like?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, the stereotype has a couple of days’ worth of stubble on his chin and wears T-shirts with nerdy computer jokes printed on the front. That’s not a good look for me.’
Euan sighed. She was like a Russian doll. Every time you thought you’d got to the real Sam, there was another underneath, exquisitely painted and quite different. Bringing a woman that he couldn’t fathom, who had admitted to nameless personal reasons, into the delicately balanced community of the clinic suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea.
‘I’ll...’ He’d intended to take her with him this morning, but instinct had just changed his plans. He needed to think, and he didn’t seem to be able to do that with any clarity when Sam was around. Perhaps because she smelled so nice. ‘I’ve got to get going in half an hour, I’ve a surgery at the clinic this morning.’
‘Saturday morning?’
‘The weekends are often our busiest times. People who are working can only make evenings and weekends.’
If he was looking for surprise in her face, he was disappointed. So many people reckoned that substance abusers automatically slept on other people’s floors, wore dirty clothes and had no prospect of a job. There was that element, of course, but Euan numbered a stockbroker and a couple of company directors among his clients as well.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She slipped out of her jacket, revealing a purple printed top made from some kind of gauzy material, which begged to be touched. ‘When can I join you?’
The little quirk of her mouth betrayed that she’d noticed that he’d sidelined her. He supposed he ought to feel guilty, after she’d got up early and come all the way here, but his clients came first. ‘Why don’t we meet up for lunch? David will be here in half an hour, and he’ll take you through the clinic procedures and tell you about the new residential centre we’re planning to open soon.’
She brightened, seeming to have put the rejection behind her, now that there was an alternative to occupy her. ‘That’s a good idea. Yes...it’ll be good to have an overview before I see how it all works in practice.’ A glimpse of the woman in the red suit. She looked at her watch. ‘Say...twelve-thirty? Is that convenient?’
* * *
His footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Sam heard the street door slam. She flopped down onto the bed, looking around her. The apartment was small, scrupulously clean and already warm from the sun. Sam wondered whether the dormer window above her head would open to afford some ventilation, and decided that her first task was to find something to climb up on so she could find out.
Here she was, then. She’d promised Sal that she would do this, and here was the first real step towards making it a reality. Two years’ work and a load of false leads from people who’d pretended to be interested in her software just so they could say they’d explored all the options.
‘We’ll be on top of the heap by Christmas...’ The old joke made her smile and set a tear worrying at the side of her eye, all at the same time. Whatever the time of year, and however unlikely the prospect, Sally had always marked their triumphs with tubs of ice cream and that toast to the future. One Christmas they’d actually found themselves on the top of the heap. At least Sal had lived to see that.
Sam shook her head. It didn’t matter how alone she felt in this empty building, or that the familiar pain of rejection seemed to twist deeper when it came from Euan Scott. He could be as handsome as he liked and as difficult as he pleased. She had a goal to achieve, and no one was going to get in her way.
* * *
The quiet, deliberate nature of the morning’s work with David had settled her. He had offered to walk her down to the clinic, in much the same way as one offered to walk you into a lion’s cage, and Sam had smilingly refused, zipping her purse and her keys into her jacket and pocketing her phone. If Euan thought she couldn’t blend in, then she’d show him that melting into walls was her speciality.
The clinic was at the end of a row of small shops and offices in one of the streets that led from the shabbier end of the promenade. It didn’t advertise itself, and once inside the main door there was another set of doors straight ahead, almost as if you needed to pass through an airlock to get into the place. Sam noticed the discreetly placed surveillance cameras, and wondered who was watching her.
Whoever it was, they buzzed her in and she found herself in a large, bright area that boasted comfortable chairs, a reception desk and a mural that appeared to have been made from the fruits of a beachcombing expedition. Euan was on the far side of the room, deep in conversation wi
th a young man in overalls, and didn’t look her way.
‘You must be Sam. I’m Liz. Welcome.’
The woman who greeted her was of medium height, medium age and had an extraordinary smile. She wore jeans and a flowery apron, carried a mole wrench and seemed preoccupied with whatever was going on through the doorway behind the reception desk.
‘Thank you. I’ve come to see Euan, but he looks pretty busy.’
‘He usually is...’ Sam followed Liz’s gaze over to the two men. Euan’s body language was relaxed but he was listening intently. ‘That’s my son he’s talking to. Jamie’s supposed to be mending the leak in the kitchen sink.’
‘But you’ve been left holding the spanner...?’
Liz laughed. ‘Exactly. Jamie’s got a bee in his bonnet and he needs to talk to Euan about it. Meanwhile, I’m holding back the flood.’
Euan was talking now. Animated, concentrated, he had a long-limbed grace about him, the look of someone who was comfortable in his own skin. Just watching him made the tiny hairs at the back of Sam’s neck shiver to attention.
‘What do you normally do here? Apart from plumbing?’ She dragged her wandering thoughts away from Euan.
‘I’m a volunteer. I spend two days a week on the reception desk and doing odd jobs. Whatever it takes.’
‘And Jamie...?’
‘Jamie’s the reason I’m here.’ Liz waggled her finger in her son’s direction. ‘This place saved his life.’
Sam couldn’t help but look back towards the two men. She’d read the statistics, pored over the reports, but this was different. Jamie was standing right there, and Euan had managed somehow to change the course of his life, where she had failed so conspicuously with Sally.
Questions flooded her mind, most of which she didn’t dare put into words. Sam reminded herself that she wasn’t here to get help, she was here to give it.
‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’
‘Isn’t that what you’re here for? David said you’d have plenty of questions.’
A Doctor to Heal Her Heart Page 2