There was a 4 x 4 on the drive—Will’s? Probably.
‘Slow enough?’ he asked, resting his arm on the top of her door and smiling down at her as she cut the engine.
‘Perfect. Is that Will’s car?’
He nodded. ‘They’ve been here a while. Come on in.’
He opened the door, and Lara bounded out, grinning and licking and checking out the bag of takeaway in Andrew’s hand. ‘Get off, you rude dog,’ he said affectionately, pushing her away, and ushered Libby in. ‘Welcome to my home,’ he said, and she knew he meant it, knew this and not the ‘crumbling pile of dry rot’ that he loved in spite of himself was where he came to recharge his batteries.
She looked around, at the heavily beamed walls and ceilings, the simple furnishings, the clean, unfussy lines.
It was him, through and through, and she could see him here so easily, so absolutely. ‘I love it,’ she said, unable to hold back her smile. ‘Oh, I love it. It’s beautiful. How did you find it?’
He laughed. ‘Easy. It was falling down. I bought it five years ago, and I’ve been working on it ever since.’
‘You have?’ she said, surprised, and he shrugged.
‘Not all of it, of course, but I’ve done a lot of the sand-blasting of the beams and decorating and stuff like that, and I’ve done all the garden landscaping. It’s how I relax. I’ll show you round later, but we ought to eat this now or it’ll be cold.’
He led her through to a huge open room, with a kitchen at one end, a dining area in the middle and comfortable, welcoming seating at the other end, where Will and Sally had made themselves at home.
‘Grub’s up,’ Andrew said, waving the bag, and they got up and came over, kissing her on the cheek, greeting her like an old friend, and she felt a flicker of guilt that she’d deceived them at the weekend. Not now, though. Now, it seemed, they did have a relationship of sorts, although she wasn’t quite sure what sort. Time would no doubt tell.
Andrew put the bag down in the middle of the table, ripped the tops off the containers, stuck spoons in them and they all helped themselves, piling their plates with the delicious, fragrant food. There were bottles of beer standing on the table, condensation running down the outsides, and even though it was cool outside she was beginning to think her cream jumper might be over the top. The house was gorgeously warm, and she could feel the glow coming off the wood-burner behind her.
‘So, what time’s your appointment tomorrow, Sally?’ Andrew asked.
‘Ten. And then I think I might go and do a little light shopping.’
Will groaned. ‘Not more baby stuff. How much is that going to cost me?’
She laughed and patted his cheek. ‘Less than you think. I might even get you a new pair of jeans. Those are dreadful.’
‘They’re nicely broken in. Leave me alone, you sound like my mother. If you want to do something useful, you can pass me a chunk of Peshwari naan.’
Andrew chuckled. ‘You won’t get him out of those jeans, Sally, unless you cut them up,’ he advised softly, passing the basket of naan breads. ‘He’s welded to them.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘Now, there’s a thought. Got any scissors, Andrew?’
‘Forget it. They’re my jeans,’ Will said, looking as if he didn’t quite trust her not to do it.
‘They don’t look any worse than the ones you were wearing on Saturday,’ Libby told Andrew, and he grinned.
‘Family trait. We like knackered old jeans.’
‘Rebellion?’
‘Nah. Antiques. You saw the rug in the hall.’
She laughed and helped herself to another scoop of butter chicken, resigned to eating lettuce the following day if necessary, and allowed herself to relax into the affectionate banter. It was lovely to see them off duty, to see the interaction between Andrew and Will, to see him as a brother as well as a doctor.
They talked about anything and everything, comfortable, relaxed, and after they’d finished eating they cleared the table and hid the leftovers from Lara, then migrated to the sofas that bracketed the wood-burner and Andrew put his arm round her and tucked her against his side. She wondered what Will would make of that, and the wisdom of it, of leaving herself wide open to hurt when she knew this was going nowhere.
But Andrew was just as wide open, and maybe he was beginning to rethink his stand on staying single.
Not that he’d be thinking of her in all that, of course not. They were poles apart. But lying there on the sofa with his arm around her, somehow they didn’t seem so far apart, just a man and a woman, relaxing with family and being normal. He was probably just lonely, and enjoying her company. She’d do the same, take it at face value, enjoy it while it lasted and be grateful.
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said later, as they lay entangled in the huge bed that sat squarely opposite the curtainless window of his bedroom. ‘I didn’t like to muscle in, but they didn’t seem to mind at all.’
He trailed a finger idly over her shoulder. ‘They don’t. They really like you.’
‘I like them, too. Sally’s gorgeous. She’ll be a lovely mother. When’s the baby due?’
‘Six weeks, I think. She’s having it in the Audley, so no doubt I’ll get a call from Will all panic-stricken when she goes into labour.’
‘Do you think he’ll panic?’
‘Will? Definitely. He doesn’t care what he does to himself, but he’s incredibly protective of Sally. It’s just a pity he can’t see that it cuts both ways.’
She snuggled closer. ‘He is a bit of an idiot, isn’t he? But he’s fun.’
‘Oh, yes. He’s lots of fun. He’s the face of the family now, really, the high-profile one. He loves all the publicity and drama—I just hate it. I’m happy to let him get on with it. I just wish I wasn’t going to inherit it all at the end. He’d be much better at it—look at the way he handles all the charity stuff.’
She shifted so they were face to face and she could see his eyes. ‘Does it worry you, living in his shadow?’ she asked softly, and for a moment he said nothing, a thousand expressions flitting over his face in the moonlight, and finally he gave a low laugh.
‘That’s a strange remark.’
‘Is it? It’s how I see you both. He’s like a tumbling, cascading waterfall, hurtling through life sparkling with sunlight and sweeping everyone along with him, whereas you’re the smooth water, the still, quiet river, the surface unruffled but underneath teeming with life, sustaining it all without fuss.’
His brow creased. ‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘No! Absolutely not. It’s just the way you both are. I wondered if it was always like that, if he was always the brash, colourful one that everyone noticed. Chris said you used to be a bit of a wild child.’
He frowned slightly. ‘That was a long time ago. And as for Will, they certainly noticed him when he went off the rails. I was constantly hauling his backside out of trouble—but I’m quite happy to let him overshadow me now. Frankly he’s welcome to the limelight. I’m just surprised you picked up on it.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s just that most people don’t see it like that,’ he murmured, his voice quietly resigned. ‘They think I’m the dull one, and Will’s the interesting one—but I guess it’s OK. I’m used to it now. And it suits me, really. Leaves me free to do what I want to do without an audience. My life hasn’t really changed because of his illness, but his has. I’m still a doctor, still doing what I would have done before, although the emphasis might have changed slightly, but essentially I’m still doing what I set out to do in the first place.’
‘And Will? He said he was only estate manager because he was too lazy to do anything else. Is that true?’
Andrew shook his head. ‘No. He didn’t do well at school after he was ill—his life was thrown into chaos, and when he recovered he lost the plot a bit and turned into a party animal. He’s settled down a bit, of course, but he threw away his chance of going to uni, which was a shame, b
ecause he wanted to be an architect. I don’t think he minds, though. As I said, he loves the estate and he’s brilliant at running it.’
‘Chris Turner said you would have given up medicine to come home and look after him if necessary. ’
His smile was wry. ‘Did he? Who knows? Luckily I didn’t have to, but the whole business might have changed my focus, though.’
‘In what way?’
‘I would always have gone into orthopaedics, but probably not paediatrics,’ he admitted honestly. ‘Especially after finding out I can’t have kids. It’s a bit like rubbing salt into the wound on a daily basis, but at least I get to spend time with children. It’s bitter-sweet, really, and it can be stressful. Losing little patients is much harder than losing older ones. They’ve got so much ahead of them, so much to live for, and telling their parents they’ve lost their fight, or that their lives are going to be changed for ever—that’s hard. I get down sometimes, doing that. If I’d known what I know now, I might not have done it, but I did, and I wouldn’t change it now. I couldn’t walk away from them, even if I spend every day being reminded that I’ll never have any of my own.’
‘You might. There are all sorts of things they can do with IVF these days.’
‘I know, but not if there isn’t anything there to work with.’
‘You could find out.’
He shook his head. ‘Libby, I know. There’s no point beating myself up about it. I’ve accepted it. Just let it go.’
He met her eyes, lifted a hand and stroked away the tear that had dribbled down from the corner of her eye and puddled against her nose, and the tender gesture unravelled her.
She sniffed, and he pulled her back into his arms and kissed away the tears, then made love to her again, slowly, tenderly, until she thought her heart would burst with love for him, this gentle, dedicated man who had so much to offer and did it so quietly, without fuss or fanfare or arrogance.
She would love him for ever, she realised, even though this relationship would inevitably have to end, because he didn’t do relationships, wouldn’t marry, held himself back from commitment because of a fear that later he alone might not be enough for the woman he married—that he could imagine he wouldn’t be enough for anyone horrified her. He had so much to offer, so much to love—if only he would give her a chance.
And, in fact, it might not even be an issue. She needed to talk to her sister, to find out how she was getting on and take that first step towards finding out if she herself was affected by the genetic blight that had afflicted her family, because at the moment, with such massive unresolved issues in her own life, Libby wasn’t in a position herself to make a commitment to Andrew anyway.
Not until she had answers of her own…
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE week flew by, and she saw Andrew every day.
Sometimes it was just to snatch coffee, sometimes they managed lunch too, but he rang her on Tuesday evening, and he spent Wednesday night with her.
On Thursday, Joel was allowed out of bed to sit in a chair for the first time, and although his parents were anxious about it, his neck fracture was stable, the halo was holding his head steady and although he was a little shaky, he was pleased to be able to see things from the right angle again.
He was sad to see Lucas go, though, and so was Libby. She’d grown fond of the sullen, stroppy teenager, and she saw him off that morning with mixed feelings.
‘Promise you’ll pop up and see us when you come in to the fracture clinic,’ she said, and he nodded.
‘Yeah, I’ll come,’ he agreed, and then to her surprise, he leant over and hugged her awkwardly. ‘You’re OK, Sister, d’you know that, man? You’re a nag and all that, but you’re OK.’
She laughed a little unsteadily and let him go. ‘You take care of yourself. We’ll see you soon,’ she said, and watched him swing down the corridor on his crutches, his skill with them hugely improved after all the zooming around the ward he’d been doing while he’d driven them mad for the last week or so.
She went back onto the ward and found Andrew there, checking on a little girl who’d been brought in for surgery the previous day on her Achilles tendons. They were too short to allow her to stand except on tiptoe, and Andrew had lengthened them with a Z-plasty to enable her to stand and walk properly at last.
But now she was sore and unhappy, and he was trying to examine her without success while the mother held her new baby in her arms and tried to soothe little Chloe and keep her older son out of mischief at the same time. So where was the nurse who should have been with Andrew?
It looked like a situation that was rapidly heading out of control, and as she went over to them he looked up and gave her a relieved smile.
She didn’t wait for him to ask for help, just scooped up the little girl she’d already cuddled several times that morning, and sat down on the bed with her cradled firmly in her arms so Andrew could look at her feet, which were taped up now into a normal position following her surgery.
‘Hello, sweetheart! Goodness me, you’re looking pretty now! Did Mummy bring you in a new T-shirt?’
She sniffed and nodded, and Libby duly admired the duck on her tummy. ‘That’s such a pretty duck. What colour is it? Is it green?’
She giggled round her thumb. ‘No.’
‘Is it blue?’
Another giggle. ‘No!’
‘I know! It’s red!’
The thumb came out. ‘No, it’s not! It’s yellow!’
Libby blinked and laughed. ‘So it is—silly me. Fancy me getting it wrong. I’ll have to go back to school!’
Andrew was straightening up, his examination complete, and he gave her a thoughtful look before turning to the mother. ‘OK. That’s lovely. Her feet are looking much better.’
‘They look normal now. I can’t believe it. I really didn’t think they’d ever look like that,’ the mother said, her eyes filling.
He squeezed her shoulder gently. ‘I told you they would. The position’s everything I could have hoped for and, given a few days for it to settle, I’m sure you’ll find she’ll be able to start standing soon and before you know it, she’ll be running around with her brother, won’t you, Chloe?’
‘Will she be able to walk like me?’ the brother asked, and Andrew smiled.
‘I’m sure she will, very soon.’
‘I’ll have to hide my toys.’
‘Or you could share them,’ their mother suggested gently, making him pull a mulish face.
‘Hey, it’s good to share. You can have twice as much fun with two of you,’ Libby offered, and with a smile at the family they left them to consider the ramifications of a little girl soon to be mobile for the first time.
‘Thanks for that,’ Andrew murmured as they walked away. ‘Sam had to bail on me—she had a vomiting child to clean up. I thought I’d be OK but then the baby kicked off and Chloe started to cry.’
‘She’s going to be great, though. You’ve done a good job,’ she said, and he shot her a grin.
‘It was easy. So straightforward for something that makes so much difference. Who would havethought that a little zig-zag cut in a tendon could make the difference between being crippled and being normal?’
‘Who, indeed. Lucas has gone, by the way.’
‘I know. I saw him earlier and wished him luck. I’ll see him in Outpatients.’
‘Mmm. Remind him to come in and see us. I think the boys’ll miss him.’
‘I think you will,’ he teased, and she smiled.
‘You know, I think you might be right?’
Andrew opened his mouth, but then his pager went off and he gave her a wry grin. ‘That’ll teach me to think about coffee,’ he said with a groan. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He did, but only fleetingly. He came onto the ward to check Chloe and found Libby cuddling her again, because mum had gone home to feed and change the baby, taking her big brother, and wouldn’t be back for a while. And even though Libby’s shift was over,
she couldn’t leave the little one sobbing her heart out alone.
‘I thought you’d finished?’ he said softly, crouching down beside them and grinning at Chloe. ‘Hi, sweets. Are you OK?’
‘Want Mummy,’ she said, and cuddled into Libby’s chest, her heart-rending sobs tugging at him.
‘I think her pain relief needs looking at,’ Libby murmured, and he nodded and checked the chart, upping the dose to give her a little extra cover to help her settle for the evening. ‘While you’re at it, Joel’s been a bit uncomfortable. I think he might have a pin-track infection in one of his halo screws. I’ve sent a swab off to the lab.’
‘I’ll check him and write him up for something if necessary. When did you do the swab?’
‘Twelve?’
‘So it won’t be back till lunchtime tomorrow. I’ll have a look now.’
He straightened up. ‘I’m on duty tonight—I’m covering for Patrick Corrigan, and it looks like it’ll be busy, so I probably won’t see you later.’
‘OK,’ she said, stifling the disappointment. ‘I’ve got lots to do tonight anyway.’
‘It’s the weekend tomorrow,’ he said softly. ‘We could—oh, rats, I’d better go,’ he sighed, glancing at his pager. ‘Look, I’ll call you later. We’ll arrange something. ’
He strode away, his long legs eating up the ward, and she saw him turn into the bay containing the older boys—checking on Joel, as he’d promised. She rocked Chloe, torn between getting her the extra dose of pain relief and settling her to sleep, and wondered what he’d suggest they did this weekend.
Nothing like the previous one, she was sure, but she felt a flutter of nervous anticipation. A quiet dinner in? Taking her out to a restaurant? A walk in the park?
Maybe nothing much at all. Maybe he’d just want to spend the time alone, and maybe the something he’d said they’d arrange would turn out to be a very small something indeed.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she muttered, and Chloe stirred slightly, silencing her. She was being ridiculous. She wasn’t supposed to be letting her heart get involved.
The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell Page 10