Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  ‘And he needs you happy and relaxed, not pent-up. Brittany can help you . . . provide you with a shoulder.’

  He looked up, his face taut.

  ‘You like her and you’re good together. She’ll help you in the end, believe me. I made mistakes keeping the stress locked away. I never did anything for myself, never shared problems.’

  ‘Not even with your husband?’

  ‘Especially not Gavin. We had no secrets, but we didn’t share emotions. It would have dragged us both down. But it could be different for you. Brittany would be your listening board. She will understand.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Please.’

  Jason was contemplative, and swirled the dregs in his mug. ‘I haven’t got the time . . . and anyway, it’s not working. We keep arguing.’

  ‘You’re being selfish.’

  Jason gawked. ‘I can’t believe you’re telling me I’m being selfish.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but despite what you think I do care about you, and of course Brittany. And I recognise love when I see it.’

  Within his eyes, she saw a glimpse of pure and utter pleasure, bobbing and dancing, but then it was gone, replaced by a determination to protect himself and thus his son.

  ‘Please,’ she said, ‘I’m begging you. I have a plan, and I’m going to make sure she gets exactly what she needs, but I need you to promise you’ll be there for her.’

  ‘What plan?’

  Michelle lowered her head.

  ‘Is it to do with Dr O’Riordan?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that. Please, can you promise me you’ll look after her?’

  He lifted the flap on his watch, pondering.

  ‘I’m only asking you to keep an eye on her, as a friend would.’

  Jason stared at a woman carrying drinks to a table. Michelle waited, silently pleaded.

  ‘Please,’ she urged.

  He turned to face her. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She touched his hand. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘You said the other day that Dr O’Riordan shouldn’t be trusted. What did you mean?’

  ‘Exactly that.’

  ‘Is he a poor doctor?’

  ‘No, quite the contrary. He’s very good at his job and very clever, but he’s not what you think. He may seem very compassionate, but he’s the exact opposite, pitiless and inhuman. I hope you’re keeping your distance.’

  Jason leaned to the floor and scratched a spot inside his shoe.

  ‘Jason?’

  ‘I promised myself I would do whatever it took to save Ethan.’

  She edged closer. ‘Have you paid him money?’

  He averted his gaze.

  ‘You have to get it back. Something’s going on, something that one day is going to cause the department a lot of trouble. Big trouble. You have to distance yourself as far from O’Riordan as possible, and make sure you delete all correspondence – texts, emails, everything.’

  ‘It’s to do with investigation, isn’t it?’

  Michelle tensed. ‘What investigation?’

  He looked to the table, the scratches and the marks.

  ‘Jason?’

  ‘It’s just something I heard. I don’t know anything else.’

  She ran her fingers through her hair. It was what she had wanted and she should be happy, but it had been a foolish idea, one she hadn’t thoroughly considered despite the years of trying. As Jerry O’Riordan had pointed out, logical reasoning wasn’t her forte. ‘Have the cops been loitering?’

  ‘No. It’s a private investigator. It’s going to distract them from treating Ethan. I don’t know what to do.’

  Her pulse quickened. Who had started it? Was it someone at the hospital, a nurse perhaps? She wrapped her arms across her front and placed her hands on opposing shoulders, restraining the ache in her heart. Maybe it had been Brittany. There was no point in kidding herself. Her daughter had made it clear she wanted answers and this is just the kind of thing she would do.

  ‘You know what’s going on, don’t you?’ Jason asked.

  Michelle lowered her gaze.

  ‘You have to tell me, for Ethan’s sake.’

  ‘Just get your money back and stay out of it. I know exactly how you feel, believe me. You’re desperate beyond belief, but there are other ways.’

  Their eyes met. He had the look of a petrified rabbit.

  ‘Just speak to him. Tell him you’ve changed your mind.’

  ‘Will he understand?’

  Michelle shrugged. ‘You have to try, but you mustn’t mention this investigation or me. Promise?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Believe me, it’s for the best. I’d have started an investigation myself if I’d had been brave enough. But I could go back inside, Jason.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘I think it does.’

  ‘No,’ she said forcefully, ‘what matters is Brittany is okay, and Ethan too. My life was over a long time ago. I can deal with that.’

  ‘There’s still a chance for you and Brittany-’

  ‘No.’ Michelle’s eyes were wandering. ‘I have to go. If they see me talking to you they’ll assume I’ve told you stuff and you’ll be in danger.’

  Jason frowned.

  Michelle knew he wanted an explanation but it was too soon. It wasn’t even a consideration. ‘Whatever happens it’ll not affect Ethan. He’ll still get the best treatment.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Just trust me.’ She scanned the people at the nearby tables. ‘I’m the one who’s going to be in trouble. I threatened O’Riordan with this. He’ll think it’s my doing.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, I had to tell you.’

  ‘I glad you did.’

  Michelle slipped her feet into her shoes and stood up. Her knees buckled with the pain. Moaning, she grabbed the table.

  ‘You should get that bunion operated on else it’ll cause more damage.’

  Her skin warmed, her heart pounded, and her arms quivered. She opened her mouth to speak but no words released.

  ‘My sister-in-law has had it done. It’s easily sorted. All they do is . . .’

  His words drifted. An operation was not an option. Not now, not ever. She thought of herself laid on a hospital bed; she thought of the surgeon looming over her; she thought of the knife and the aesthetic. Dribbles of sweat formed on his skin, dripping into her eyes. She wiped them free, her arm shaking.

  ‘I hear it’s pain-free. Nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘I could ask her to speak to you if you think it would help.’

  Her lungs fought for air, her head was spinning and her eyes blurring. She had to get away and started to trot as best she could with a painful foot and weakening legs. In the distance, she could hear Jason’s gentle tones pleading with her to return and asking her what was wrong. She could not respond. She needed space to breathe.

  Chapter 16

  Brittany’s reflection glared, ashen and fatigued. There were dark patches under her eyes, her skin was taut and dry, and her lips were pale and cracked. She brushed her dull, lank strands of hair hoping for a bit of lift, but bar a few strands that became airborne, the majority flattened closer to her head and added to her sickly appearance. Unable to provide it with any kind of sheen, she reached for a tie and bunched it to her rear, then concentrated on her face.

  In the drawer by her side were an assortment of eyeliners, eye shadows, lipsticks, creams, and cleansers. She rummaged through the small tubs, retrieved face lotion, and applied it to her face and lips, smoothing it in small circular motions. The rubbing caused her face to pink. Welcoming her newfound glow, she reached for the eyeliner.

  By the time she had applied her make up, her pasty-white complexion had returned. If she had lighter coloured hair then maybe her pale skin would not seem so bad, but as it was, the dark brown made her look ghostly white. Fighting her envious longing, she thought of Eri
n and her lithe figure, glowing skin, lush hair, and manicured fingernails. She always looked beautiful, even after a sleepless night, and yearned for the same.

  A couple of years after the transplant, when Brittany should have been at her healthiest, she still had not experienced the energy levels of her peers. One of her friends, Georgina Watson, who could never have been described as a fitness fanatic and only ever did the bare minimum of exercise, still outlasted her during school physical education lessons. Brittany remembered her fight as she tried to keep up with the other girls during netball, but she was always the first out of breath, the girl that needed a break on the sideline. It was frustrating and embarrassing.

  She had never wanted special treatment; she had wanted to be normal, the same as the rest, and forget she had had a transplant. If she was slightly off colour and merely had a sniffle, she could see the questioning gaze in her friends’ eyes. The teachers did the same, always scrutinising and assuming the worse, and so it was difficult to disregard all that had happened. She was permanently lacking behind in her schoolwork, had no long-term friends, and her experiences had been limited. Unlike Jodi, Brittany had not been able to spend hours learning music. Unlike Emily, she had not been able to volunteer at the hedgehog rescue centre. Unlike Katherine, she had not performed on stage as a proficient dancer.

  Her life must not pass her by.

  In spite of what may be happening inside her body, she must make an effort to cram more good into her days. Each weekend, she should look for somewhere different to do. She should look for new pastimes. She should ring Jason.

  Her heart fluttered. She headed into the living area, and stepped into the radiating warmth and looked out of the window and across to the park. There was a game of football going on; there were dog walkers and children playing. It was the perfect spring day for a date.

  She perched onto the sofa, reached for her mobile phone, and nursed it in her hand. Her nerves danced. What would Jason be doing? Maybe Ethan had returned home. Maybe they were spending quality time together.

  Battling with her decision, she pondered their last meeting. After they had discussed the investigation, they had meandered away from the park and along a street, and headed into the town centre. The atmosphere had been tense and her legs had been heavy. She plodded along, her eyes swimming with nausea, yet remained determined to keep pace. She was relieved when Jason suggested they visited a pub, but after half an hour of strained, intermittent conversation, they had parted company.

  It had been a strange affair, and she could still not determine if Jason was annoyed with her for the investigation, if he had noticed her fatigue and thought it best she returned home, or if he was simply glad to be out of her company. He had given little away, and held an impassive glance.

  Beneath his cold demeanour, she could sense a trapped passion and vigour. Their hands had collided and sparks flew, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked, both seeking the same nourishment of love, hope, and joyous delight. However, far too quickly Jason pulled away and fumbled in his pockets, searching for a distraction. Brittany believed he was in denial and wanted to feel nothing.

  It was irritatingly bizarre. It wasn’t as though he had to choose between her and Ethan. He could have both. Frowning, she folded her arms and crossed her ankles, and gazed through the window to the traffic gathering on the road. A funeral procession was progressing through the intersection; someone’s life had ended. It could be anyone, young or old, diseased or not. It could be Jason.

  Brittany knew what she had to do. Life was about making the most of chances. Tomorrow may never arrive; tomorrow may be filled with regrets and wasted opportunities. She would be doing him a good turn and would be cheerful and supportive. One way or another, she would win him over.

  Swiftly, she selected his name on the list of contacts on her phone and clicked the dial button. He answered instantly.

  ‘Hi Brittany. Great minds think alike.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m in the car park heading to your flat.’

  ‘Right . . . great. I’ll let you in.’

  The problems with her ailing body seemed to evaporate, and she flung the phone into her bag, checked her jeans and blouse for grit and fluff, and scanned the room for anything than should be out of sight. Satisfied that all was as it should be, she hurried to the door.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me popping in unannounced,’ he said.

  ‘No, not at all. I was ringing to see if you wanted to do something. It’s a fantastic day . . . pity to waste it.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’ He slipped his thumbs into the tops of his pockets. ‘I’m sorry about dashing off the other evening. I was a bit tired and had stuff on my mind.’

  ‘I was tired too . . . and I shouldn’t have mentioned the investigation.’

  I’m glad you did, but it’s me that should be apologising. I can see that you were put in a difficult position. It was going to happen anyway.’

  Brittany smiled.

  ‘Can we forget renal, just for the next few hours? It’d be nice to switch off entirely for a change.’

  ‘That’s just what I’d been thinking.’

  ‘Great. I have a surprise.’ He was grinning and his eyes held a playful glint.

  ‘I have use of my brother’s car for a little while. He’s gone away on business, and so insured me to use it. Fancy a drive somewhere?’

  She leaned against the wall. Did she ever?

  The wind brushed her skin, parting her hair as she admired the sun-drenched fields, the ambling hikers, the fluttering treetops and the unrelenting tranquillity. The road was the only blemish, with vehicles racing along the single carriageway, head to tail as far as the eye could see, along the straight sections and bends, up hills and down dales, like termites gathering food. If she kept her eyes focused out of the side window, and her ears on the radio rather than the monotonous drone of the engine, she could whisk herself into the beauty and forget her stresses. She could soak up the stillness and imagine herself well again.

  It had a long time since she had travelled through the countryside, and remembered an occasion before her illness took grip, when she had been taken, with her parents, to the coast. They had driven through the hills and passed an ostrich farm where upon the return journey, she insisted they stopped. A little distance from a lay-by was a path. Brittany raced across the field to observe the curious looking creatures with tiny heads on the end of a long neck and large body, and paid little attention to her surroundings.

  Relenting to her mother’s persistent plea, she had turned around. Brittany’s heart jumped to double-quick beat. A herd of cows was approaching, their necks extended, their eyes locked onto her small body. She squealed and looked to her parents. She had no route of escape; the huge beasts had trapped her against the wall.

  Ever since that moment, she hated cows, and could still visualise the multiple pairs of eyes staring, threatening. Their curiosity was as intimidating as their size. They may be grazers, but she had seen evil intent, and believed that they would have crushed her if her father had not appeared waving a stick.

  Brittany shuddered. Suddenly, the breeze passing through the window felt cold, so she pressed the button to shut it and glimpsed at Jason. His focus was relaxed yet fixated, and his slender fingers hung loosely around the steering wheel.

  He caught her eye and smiled. ‘Feeling chilly?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘It’s great to be away from the city, don’t you think?’

  ‘As long as there are no cows.’

  ‘Cows? Why?’

  ‘I was caught unawares in a field once. Dad had to save me.’

  Jason laughed. ‘They’re harmless. You just have to be assertive.’

  ‘They were after me!’

  ‘They’re vegetarian. You wouldn’t taste very nice to them.’

  ‘They could have crushed me.’

  Jason smiled. ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘It’s not unheard
of.’

  ‘Okay, so you’re a bit of a wimp. I won’t stop by a field of cows.’

  He had a twinkle in his eye. She scanned his angular features, his long eyelashes and his boyish pink complexion, and her delight gathered. It was great to see him away from his stressful situation and enjoying himself. It was great for them both.

  ‘You know, when I woke up this morning, I vowed to spend more time enjoying myself,’ she said. ‘It’s so easy in this modern world to become wrapped up in things you have no control of. I have no intention of taking myself to an early grave.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know . . . I haven’t given it much thought. I just want to cram as many experiences into this summer as I can. Live for the day.’

  Jason did not respond and engaged the left indicator to head into town. She wondered if she had said too much, and felt an awkwardness descend. Was he interpreting her words as an indication that she felt her life was nearing its end? Was she sounding too desperate, a try-hard? She reached for her ponytail and fiddled with the end of her hair, and silently urged him to speak. He remained silent.

  After creeping along for what seemed like ages, they arrived at a car park and exited the car. She breathed in the salty sea air and stretched her stiffening limbs.

  ‘I need the toilet,’ she said cheerfully, and hurried away.

  Deciding she wasn’t going to let her worrisome mind spoil the mood, she put her thoughts to one side and followed an elderly woman into the concrete block structure. There was graffiti on one of the walls and it was cold and colourless inside, but it was clean and smell-free.

  Back outside, Jason was studying a visitors’ board.

  ‘Where do you fancy going?’ he asked.

  ‘The beach?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  They sauntered along a track. Along one side were houses with extensive gardens, and on the other side, across a high fence, was a patch of land with small hills, rocks, and grassy tussocks. Heading towards them, were four teenage boys carrying surfboards, and just behind them were two elderly women.

  The sea came into view. Waves thrashed the rocks and white water rushed the sands, trickling across the feet of the children. It was dazzlingly bright, and the cloudless sky melded with the sea, blurring at the horizon. Along the weaving coastline, seagulls gathered and squawked, and dived to scavenge for dropped food, and in the distance, on a rocky promontory, were three anglers.