Dr Blake's Angel

by Marion Lennox

  Nell turned to her, and hugged her hard. There were tears glistening in the old lady’s eyes, and they were mirrored in Nell’s.

  ‘Was this your idea?’

  ‘It might have been,’ Grace said noncommittally, and Nell knew it had.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  It was all beautiful. The inside had been worked on as well as the outside. From the doors leading from the sitting room, Nell could see that every room had been painted and the floors and furniture washed and polished till they shone. All her grandparents’ furniture looked wonderful…

  Including…

  ‘You’ve brought back the stuff I took to Blake’s.’

  ‘It’s yours.’ The ambulancemen were there, too. Bob and Henry were laughing at her shock and enjoying themselves hugely. ‘You can’t believe the trouble the townsfolk have had keeping you away from this place for the past few days—the complaints they’ve had to make up to distract you. We’ve worked in shifts to keep you away from here. Scott’s appendix was a blessing. And we thought Blake’d hardly mind if we shifted your furniture back home. After all, he’s got his house to himself again. Losing the odd sofa’d hardly matter.’

  ‘You left him the tree?’ Suddenly it seemed absurdly important that they had. He had to have something. He needed his Christmas angels!

  But they had left them so she could stop worrying. ‘We made you your own,’ Grace told her, motioning to the corner where Christmas lights twinkled. Her arm was still around Nell’s in an out-of-character display of affection. ‘The town thought…well, you’ve been home for less than two weeks and already you’ve risked your skin saving one of us, and now you’re putting on a fantastic Christmas for us oldies. Nell, we never stood up for you against your grandparents. We figured the least we could do was to see you had Christmas in your own home.’

  ‘Oh, Grace…’ She gazed around at them. At her people. Her people. And they beamed back, hugely satisfied with her pleasure.

  Except Blake. He was standing on the sidelines, watching but not saying a word. Her gaze swung to his face and found his eyes creased, as if they were puzzled.

  He was puzzled. Not pleased. Not displeased. Just…puzzled. Why?

  He’d have his home to himself for Christmas, she thought. That should please him.

  ‘I’m sorry about your furniture,’ she said softly, and he managed a smile. His gaze moved from Nell’s face to Grace’s, and then back again, and the trace of puzzlement remained. She didn’t understand it, but finally he dragged himself back to what she’d said. The furniture. Right.

  ‘I can live without your furniture,’ he told her. ‘I have for the past two years.’

  There was a pause—a moment when silence fell over the whole room. It was as if the room were witnessing a declaration.

  He could live without her furniture. He could live without her. Of course he could. Why had she ever imagined differently?

  After all, she was plain Nell McKenzie, a woman who was pregnant with another man’s baby, a woman who was so different from his beautiful Sylvia that…

  She blinked. What was she thinking of? The town’s people had just given her this house and here she was fantasising about things that were totally ridiculous. Like a relationship with Blake.

  He didn’t need her, she told herself. He didn’t want her, and if she gave any hint to the contrary then she’d make their working relationship untenable. When her baby was born she wanted part-time work here. She wanted to be his part-time partner.

  Not his full-time love.

  Or rather she did want that—very, very much—but she knew very well that trying for the second would destroy completely her chances of the first. So she just had to get on with it. With a wrench she forced her gaze away from Blake, back to the townspeople surrounding her.

  ‘I suppose you haven’t all gathered here to haul some injured builder from under a collapsed wall?’

  There was general laughter and then someone handed her a glass of champagne, someone else started to play on her grandmother’s piano, a fiddler tuned his instrument to the piano—and the party to end all parties began. A party to welcome Dr Nell McKenzie back amongst her own.

  Blake left. Pleading the excuse that he needed to check Scott, he gave it an hour and then headed back to town. He did it via a detour. The beach was calling. The sea…

  He desperately wanted to run. Desperately! He parked on the headland and stared down at the moonlit ribbon of sand stretching away to the horizon. He wanted to run and run, and never stop running. Away from here. He wanted to leave! He didn’t want Nell staying in this town, disturbing his precious solitude.

  She wouldn’t be disturbing it now, he told himself. She’d no longer be sleeping just through the wall from him. She’d be in her house. He wouldn’t have to see her. She’d be gone.

  But she’d still be…there.

  Damn. Damn, damn and damn. His hand thumped down onto the steering-wheel and he hit the hooter without meaning to. A bunch of dopey seagulls squawked their indignation at being rudely wakened and then settled again to their nightly roost.

  He should go. Scott was waiting.

  The beeper was on his belt. The nurses would beep him if he was needed.

  Hell, why didn’t they beep him? He was going nuts.

  Finally he turned on the engine and forced himself to steer homewards. Ernest would still be at the apartment, he thought suddenly. Everything else of Nell’s had been moved. He’d seen that she had it all—the energetic townsfolk had shifted everything, even the food for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner. But her dog hadn’t been at the party. They must have thought so many people in a strange place might upset him so they’d leave Ernest for Nell to collect later.

  The thought was good. Ernest would still be still there, so she’d have to come to…

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sutherland!’ He didn’t want Nell to come. He didn’t want anyone! He was sure of it. But it was with a heavy heart that he headed back toward the town.

  Toward the flat. Toward Ernest. Toward all that was left of Nell McKenzie.

  When Blake woke it was Christmas, and Nell wasn’t there. He lay and stared at the ceiling for a long time and tried not to think just how ‘not there’ it felt. Which was pretty much overwhelming.

  Six a.m. There was plenty of time before he had to get up. He’d scheduled surgery from ten to eleven for urgent cases—the earaches and fevers that couldn’t wait. He needed to do a ward round before then, but they’d look askance if he came in now, so the next couple of hours were his to do with as he wished. But he didn’t wish to do anything.

  He’d run, he thought. That’d be a good start to the day. Having made his decision, he threw off the bedcovers and headed for the living room, to discover Ernest fast asleep under the Christmas tree.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ he demanded. The dog was lying on his back, staring up at the tree like it personally had robbed him. ‘You weren’t hoping Father Christmas would drop in, were you?’

  Maybe the dog had been hoping just that. The gaze that Ernest turned on him—reproachfulness personified—said he certainly wasn’t happy. Blake sighed and crossed to the fridge.

  ‘OK, I don’t see why Santa should desert both of us.’ There was a portion of leg ham in the fridge—small enough for one person to demolish over Christmas. All the wonderful food that had been there the day before had been taken out to Nell’s but they’d left him enough to get by. Just.

  ‘You’ll be eating your main meal with us so there’s no need to leave you all the trimmings,’ he’d been told by Grace, and he could only agree, even if he didn’t intend to eat anywhere near Nell.

  So there was ham, eggs, a bowl of strawberries and not a lot else. Blake sliced the ham from the bone, ate a slice himself—well, he should do something to celebrate Christmas—and then he offered the bone to Ernest. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he told him.

  But Ernest wasn’t in a Christmas mood. He sniffed the bone and
sighed heavily. Slowly, deliberately, he carried it to where the plain rug had replaced Nell’s Turkish ones on the living-room floor. Without looking at Blake again, the dog scraped the rug back, deposited the bone underneath and proceeded to lie on top of it.

  His body language was unmistakable. I’m miserable now. I appreciate the gesture and maybe I’ll eat it later, but I’m too sad to eat just yet.

  ‘You’re supposed to eat it now,’ Blake told him, lifting a piece of ham and biting. ‘Like this. It’s Christmas now.’

  But Ernest wasn’t happy and Blake knew exactly how he felt.

  ‘You’re missing Nell?’ Blake stooped to pat the velvety head. ‘I thought she’d come and get you.’ He had, too. Blake had lain awake until the small hours, thinking that Nell might sleep here. Her bed was still made up and her dog was here and… And he was here!

  Damn, that’d make no difference at all. He was being ridiculous.

  ‘How about you come down to the beach and run with me?’ Blake enquired, and Ernest looked so unenthusiastic that he almost laughed. Almost.

  ‘OK.’ Blake knew when he was beaten. ‘Give me five minutes and we’ll take your damned bone and we’ll give the pair of you back to your mistress.’ And then he’d really be alone for Christmas—which was the way he wanted it. Wasn’t it?

  Maybe.

  In the end it was eight before he reached Nell’s, which was maybe just as well as Nell would hardly have appreciated a six a.m. wake-up call. But he’d been delayed. Jodie Farmer had sat all night in a steam tent with her croupy baby and had waited until dawn to bring her baby in.

  ‘Because I know last night was a big night and I didn’t want to bother you. Did you enjoy the party?’

  ‘Very much, thank you.’

  Jodie had surveyed him with care. She was almost as wide as she was high, big-hearted with it and as sharp as a tack. ‘You and Doc McKenzie had a fight, then?’

  ‘No. Why would we fight?’

  ‘You didn’t stay out there?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t. It’s Nell’s house, not mine.’

  She wasn’t satisfied. ‘But you still fancy her?’

  ‘Of course I don’t.’

  ‘No “of course” about it,’ she said bluntly. ‘My old man put ten quid on the pair of you being married by the time her baby’s born.’ She grinned. ‘Got long odds, too, so we’d appreciate it if you’d oblige.’

  ‘Not even for you, Jodie,’ he said, goaded. Good grief!

  ‘So what’s wrong with being married?’ Jodie looked down at the baby in her arms and she grinned. ‘Last night was the pits but we wouldn’t give her back, and me and Daryl think marriage is great! And now you’ll even stick Lily in hospital so we can have Christmas dinner in peace. Bliss.’

  ‘You’d be well served if I didn’t admit her.’

  ‘Then I’d fall asleep on top of her and you know it. Daryl was out all night, fishing, so he’s no help. I’ll see her settled, crawl into bed with my hubby and wake in time to have Christmas dinner with my in-laws. Marriage is great, Doc Sutherland. You ought to try it.’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘You couldn’t be talked into it?’

  The woman was impossible. ‘I’ve been married already,’ he said curtly, but even that wasn’t enough to shut her up.

  ‘Doc McKenzie’s different,’ she told him, refusing to be silent. ‘She’s special.’

  ‘So was my wife.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ She shrugged, but she still grinned. ‘Not from what I’ve heard, but have it your own way. I’m still backing Daryl’s bet. I might even have a flutter myself.’

  ‘You’ll lose your money,’ Blake told her, striving desperately to bring this crazy conversation to an end. It was at times like this that he wanted to be something other than a doctor. Like a hermit! But he lifted Jodie’s baby into his arms and felt a jabbing ache of uncertainty. Lily’s tiny face was so innocent. So trusting.

  ‘Hey, you’re ripe for marriage,’ Jodie said, watching him and smiling.

  ‘I’ve got all I can cope with, looking after everyone else’s kids,’ he retorted. He forced himself back to the business at hand. ‘Her breathing’s still a bit blocked, Jodie, so we will admit her.’

  ‘I knew you would.’ Then, before he knew what she intended, she grabbed him—and her baby—in an all-enveloping hug. ‘I think you’re the greatest,’ she told him. ‘And so’s Dr McKenzie. So off you go and win Daryl’s bet for me. Right now.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  THOROUGHLY disgruntled, Blake walked up the front steps of Nell’s house and hoped she was awake. He’d offload the dog and be out of here, he told himself. Fast.

  He knocked on the back screen, Ernest by his side, but they were met by silence. He knocked again and the door swung inwards. Instead of Nell, though, he was confronted with Wendy Gunner.

  Wendy was Aaron’s wife. He’d seen her the day before at her husband’s hospital bedside, with her three children in tow. Things had been looking good for her—her husband was recovering fast—and she’d been bright, cheerful and bubbly.

  She was none of that now. She looked pale and drawn. She was still dressed in her nightwear and her two littlest children were clinging to her side.

  ‘Wendy!’

  ‘Dr Sutherland!’

  His stomach lurched somewhere toward his feet as he heard her fear. His hands came out and gripped hers, holding hard. ‘Wendy, what’s wrong? Where’s Nell?’

  ‘She’s…she’s in the bathroom.’

  ‘The baby…’ Hell, the baby!

  But it wasn’t the baby. Wendy gave a choking sob and shook her head. ‘No. It’s not the baby. It’s Jason.’

  ‘Your Jason?’ He didn’t understand. Jason was her eight-year-old. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘He got a bike for Christmas.’ Another sob. ‘The kids have been up for hours. Jason took the bike straight out onto the gravel drive and while I wasn’t looking he stuck a plank on some bricks to make a jump. Of all the stupid things…And now his leg… You should see it. There’s blood and gravel and he’s ripped his pyjamas and I know I should be in there helping, but all of a sudden I felt sick and I couldn’t…’ She buried her face in her hands.

  ‘Hey, Wendy.’ Blake’s arms came around and held her. He could guess what was happening. While her husband’s life had been in danger and afterwards, Wendy had been fantastic. She’d held herself composed and cheerful and optimistic throughout.

  But now the accumulated strain of keeping cheerful for Aaron’s sake and the after-effects of the terror had proved too much. One damaged knee was all it had taken to push her over the edge.

  Blake needed to find out how badly the child was hurt. There were murmurs coming from the bathroom, but Wendy needed help first.

  ‘Kyle.’ Blake looked down at the second of the children. Kyle was six years old and was lost in the face of his mother’s distress. Blake knelt and met him at eye level. ‘Kyle, your mother’s upset. Jason’s sore knee has made her sad. But there’s nothing to worry about. I bet Dr McKenzie is bandaging it really well, and I want to help her, so do you think that if your mum sits on the sofa right here, you and Christy could give her a cuddle?’

  Kyle considered the matter gravely. His thumb was permanently stuck in his mouth and his eyes were huge. He stared up at his mother in bewilderment.

  ‘Mummy’s crying.’

  ‘That’s why she needs a cuddle.’ Blake turned to the four-year-old. ‘Christy, can you help?’

  Wendy’s daughter was made of sterner stuff than her brother. She nodded at once.

  ‘Sit down, Mummy,’ she ordered, and Blake grinned and put his hands on Wendy’s shoulders and propelled her to sit.

  ‘Now cuddle,’ he ordered, and Christy did just that. After a moment’s doubt, Kyle followed.

  ‘Don’t you let your mother up,’ Blake ordered as Wendy’s arms came out in an instinctive reaction to hold them both close. ‘She’s not to move.’ He motioned to the do
g who’d followed him hopefully into the house. There were good smells coming from here. Christmas smells. Food smells. It was enough to make a dog really optimistic. ‘If she stands up, you tell Ernest to lick her,’ Blake told the children. ‘That’ll fix her.’

  ‘Does he bite?’ Kyle asked, diverted from his mother for a moment.

  ‘No. His specialty is licking. Very, very wetly.’

  ‘He’ll lick our mummy?’

  ‘Only if you let her up.’

  It appealed enormously to the two children. They stared at Ernest for a long moment, Ernest stared back, and they got the message. They got on with the important task of mother-cuddling.

  Blake found Nell, with the little boy sitting on towels on the bathroom floor. She’d ripped the pyjama leg aside to reveal a nasty gravel rash. By the look of Jason’s face—stoic rather than in pain—she must have given him a local anaesthetic, but it was a big job. He’d scraped not only his knee but his leg almost down to his ankle.

  ‘Well, Jason Gunner. You’ve made a right proper mess,’ Blake growled as he entered the room, and Nell looked up with relief. She’d been kneeling on the floor as she worked, and by the look of it, the floor wasn’t at all comfortable.

  ‘Blake…’ There was no hiding her relief, and Blake felt a small surge of satisfaction. Actually, quite a large surge.

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘If you would.’ She winced, grabbed the towel rail and hauled herself to her feet before he could help. Her hand moved to the small of her back and she grimaced again. ‘Operating on the floor when you’re this far pregnant is hardly fun. I should have used the kitchen table—except that the turkey’s using it.’ She managed a smile, but it was a wan one. ‘I’ve given Jason a local anaesthetic so we can get all the gravel out without hurting him, but I’d be very grateful if you could take over.’

  Blake didn’t hesitate. He crossed to the basin and started washing. ‘Of course. What on earth was Wendy thinking of, coming to you?’