The Police Doctor's Discovery

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘That’s OK.’ He paused. ‘You’re not afraid that could be misconstrued as a date?’

  ‘What—lunch in your office?’ She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Some may see it as that.’ He shrugged and she had the decided impression he was mocking her.

  ‘It was a working lunch,’ she said firmly, ‘but if it is misconstrued by others, maybe it’s something that shouldn’t be repeated.’

  ‘That would be a shame,’ Nick replied as he accompanied her back to Reception. ‘I found it very pleasant.’

  She had, too, but she didn’t want to admit as much so instead she merely smiled and with a wave towards Harry, left the building and headed for her car.

  It had been pleasant, there was no denying that, she told herself as she drove back to the centre, but she had to recognise and acknowledge the warning signs. It would be all too easy to fall into the trap of caring for Nick again, and she could not—must not—let that happen. He had hurt her badly once, she wasn’t sure she could survive a second time. Far better to keep him at arm’s length where he could do no further damage.

  Afternoon surgery was almost over when Rachel received a second email from Tommy Page—at least, she supposed the caller who called himself ‘your friend’ was indeed Tommy. This time it simply said: Hello, it’s me again.

  Rachel stared at the screen then, on a sudden impulse, which she hoped she wouldn’t live to regret, clicked on the ‘reply’ button, typed, Who are you? then hit the ‘send’ button.

  By the end of her surgery a reply had come back. I think you know who I am, it said.

  It was Tommy—it had to be Tommy. And yet, as she stared at the screen, Rachel had a feeling that somehow this game was a little too subtle for Tommy’s capabilities. But if it wasn’t Tommy, who was it? Really, deep down, she knew she should tell Nick. There was, after all, a murder investigation going on and she was involved in that even if her part had only been in certifying the death of the victim. But if she told Nick she would presumably have to tell him that she suspected Tommy, and she was very loath to do that. It could pitch Tommy into the centre of the police murder investigation, and if there was one thing she was absolutely certain of it was that there was no way that Tommy was capable of murder. There was no knowing how he would cope with being a suspect, though, and Rachel certainly didn’t want to be responsible for bringing him and his mother into an unnecessary spotlight. Far better to remain quiet and hope her mystery ‘friend’, whether it was Tommy or some unknown admirer, would get tired of the whole thing and give up.

  She was about to leave the surgery when Julie buzzed through to tell her that there was a phone call for her. ‘Do you know who it is, Julie?’ she asked tentatively, thinking it could possibly be her mystery admirer. Or maybe it was Nick...

  ‘It’s Dr James,’ Julie replied.

  ‘Oh, put him through,’ said Rachel quickly. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

  ‘Hello, darling,’ her father replied. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. And you?’

  ‘Yes, pretty good really.’

  ‘And Mummy?’ she added tentatively.

  ‘She’s having a good spell at the moment,’ her father replied, ‘so we have to be thankful for small mercies. Last week she upset the gardener. She was terribly rude to him. The poor man said he wasn’t going to come any more.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Rachel. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Well, I apologised profusely, and begged him to reconsider.’

  ‘And has he?’

  ‘He’s still thinking about it. Trouble is, Rachel, people don’t like that sort of thing. They don’t understand that it’s all part of your mother’s condition. But that isn’t why I’m ringing you. I was wondering if you were thinking of going to the Michaelmas Fair on Saturday?’

  ‘You’re the second person to ask me that today.’ Rachel gave a little laugh. ‘But, yes, I had thought I might go. Why, are you going?’

  ‘They’ve asked me to draw the raffle,’ her father explained. ‘I’m afraid the days are gone when either your mother or myself opened the fair but I think the organisers like to make this small gesture by asking me to do the draw.’

  ‘What about Mummy? Will you take her?’

  ‘I was thinking I might,’ he replied. ‘As I say, she is in the middle of a good spell at the moment but you know how that can change at the drop of a hat and she can be so unpredictable. That’s why I was checking to see if you were going, then maybe if necessary you could keep an eye on her while I do my little bit.’

  ‘Of course I can, Daddy.’ Rachel’s voice softened. ‘It’s the least I can do. You have this all the time...’

  ‘It isn’t all like that, you know.’

  ‘No, I know, but even so.’

  ‘See you on Saturday, then.’

  ‘Yes, see you on Saturday. Bye, Daddy.’

  ‘Goodbye, darling.’

  She sat for a moment after she had hung up, reflecting on her parents and their situation since her mother’s health had deteriorated with the onset of Alzheimer’s disease. The illness had gone through several stages, beginning with a gradual loss of short-term memory. Diana had been angry—with herself and with those around her for her own inadequacies. These days, she had periods where she appeared almost like her old self but which were frequently interspersed with lengthening spells where she hardly knew those around her, and her behaviour was increasingly erratic and unpredictable. Sometimes Rachel wondered how much longer her father would be able to cope and frequently she found herself dreading the future and what it might hold.

  The forthcoming Michaelmas Fair looked as if it could be interesting in more ways than one, what with the possibility of unpredictable behaviour from her mother and the fact that for the first time she would be meeting Nick’s daughter.

  * * *

  Saturday morning dawned bright and slightly crisp, with a definite feel of autumn in the air. The large recreation ground behind Westhampstead’s leisure centre was the venue for the Michaelmas Fair and for days it had been the scene of intense activity. A funfair, complete with roundabouts, dodgems, sideshows and a big wheel was at one end of the wide, grassy space and white marquees filled with arts and crafts, produce and floral arrangements were at the other. In the centre was an arena, which before the weekend was out would see displays of Morris dancing, dog patrol teams, marching bands, sports, tug-of-war contests and magicians and jugglers. The arena was flanked by refreshment tents, providing everything from beer, cider and barbecued meat to cups of tea and jam scones with clotted cream.

  By the time Rachel arrived the fair had already been opened by the Mayor of Westhampstead, a duty that in the past, as her father had recently reminded her, had always been performed either by himself or her mother. There was no sign of either of them and Rachel imagined that her father would leave their arrival until the last possible moment before he was required to perform the draw. She caught sight of Julie and Philip Newton in the crowd, attempting to sell their remaining raffle tickets.

  ‘Hi, Rachel.’ Phillip waved to her. ‘Can I sell you any more?’

  ‘Oh, go on.’ Rachel drew her purse out of her bag and bought several more tickets. ‘What time is the draw?’ she asked.

  ‘Not till four o’clock,’ Philip replied. ‘I understand your father is going to perform the honours for us.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Rachel nodded. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was only just after two—plenty of time for her to have a look round before she need be on hand to help with her mother. Slowly she made her way through the steadily growing throng of people towards the display tents. At almost every turn she encountered people she knew, some patients and others faces from the past, some who recognised her, some who didn’t. While she was admiring exhibits in the craft tent she caught sight of Georgie across the trestle tables. She waved and indicated to Georgie to make her way to the entrance where a few moments later they met up.

  ‘Phew!’
said Georgie, wiping her forehead. ‘What a crowd!’

  ‘You’re right.’ Rachel laughed. ‘I think all of Westhampstead must be here.’

  ‘All except my father,’ said Georgie with a short laugh. ‘He said no way—he didn’t intend to be trampled underfoot.’

  ‘Very wise,’ said Rachel. ‘My parents are coming later.’

  ‘Really?’ Georgie sounded surprised.

  ‘My father is doing the draw,’ Rachel explained. ‘I think he wants me on hand to help with my mother if it should all prove too much for her.’ The two of them left the craft tents and began to stroll through the crowd, stopping to buy sticks of shocking-pink candyfloss.

  Together they approached the funfair, drawn forward by the sound of music played at full blast, the wail of sirens from the various rides and the screams of youngsters. ‘This brings back memories,’ said Georgie as a slight breeze caught her candyfloss and plastered it across her face. ‘D’you remember how we used to sneak out to the fair and Nick and his gang always seemed to be there? They used to stand around the parapet of the roundabout, in their jeans and leather jackets whistling at all the girls...’ She paused, then with a little shriek she said, ‘Oh, look, talk of the devil.’

  Rachel turned and her heart leapt for he was there, almost as Georgie had described, leaning against the wooden surround of the roundabout. He was once more in leather jacket and jeans, but tailored leather now, not a biker’s jacket with studs, and not in the company of his mates, whistling at girls, but with a little girl holding his hand, a little girl who with her dark eyes and hair looked achingly like him.

  ‘Oh,’ said Georgie. ‘He’s seen us. He’s coming over.’

  ‘Hello, Georgie.’ Nick inclined his head in Georgie’s direction. ‘Long time, no see.’

  ‘Yes, quite.’ Georgie gave a breathless little laugh. ‘How are you, Nick?’

  ‘Not so bad.’ He was answering Georgie, but his gaze was on Rachel. ‘Rachel,’ he said with a brief nod.

  ‘Hello, Nick.’ Squarely she met his gaze, struggling as she did so to control the racing of her pulse. ‘And this...’ She looked down at the child. ‘This must be Lucy.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nick replied, ‘this is my daughter. Lucy, this is Dr Beresford.’

  ‘Hello, Dr Beresford,’ said Lucy solemnly.

  ‘Hello, Lucy.’ Rachel smiled, about to tell the child to call her Rachel then thinking better of it, afraid that Nick wouldn’t approve of such familiarity. ‘Have you been on any rides yet?’ she asked instead.

  ‘We’ve been on the big roundabout.’ Lucy looked over her shoulder towards the large carousel where white horses dipped and rose in time to music from a fair-ground organ. ‘And Daddy said we can go on the dodgems next—didn’t you, Daddy?’ Eagerly she tugged at his arm and as he looked down at her Rachel felt a pull at her heartstrings at the expression of tenderness in his eyes. This was a new Nick Kowalski, showing a side she had not yet seen—that of devoted father, a far cry from the tough, hard-bitten cop, or the wild boy of the past, or even the exciting lover she had once known.

  ‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘How about we all go on the dodgems?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Lucy, her eyes shining. ‘Come on, Daddy, look, they’re slowing down.’ Tugging at this hand, Lucy pulled him across the grass towards the dodgems, closely followed by Rachel and Georgie.

  As they mounted the wooden steps, out of the corner of her eye Rachel caught sight of Tommy Page, together with Eileen, examining the prizes on a nearby hoopla stall. Eileen saw Rachel and waved but Tommy was wearing a Walkman and appeared to be concentrating so intensely that he was unaware of what was happening around him. Rachel felt a stab of relief that he hadn’t seen her then immediately felt guilty at feeling that way. Tommy couldn’t help the way he was and even if he was her mystery admirer she should simply try to understand and show compassion.

  The crowd surged forward at that moment and Rachel, caught up in the scramble for dodgem cars, promptly forgot Tommy. Georgie quickly found a car and beckoned her over, and as she slid into her seat she saw that Nick and Lucy were also seated and Nick was paying the boy who leapt from car to car, taking the tickets.

  ‘Nick’s paid for us,’ said Georgie as the boy ignored them. ‘That was good of him.’ As they waited for the cars to move, she said, ‘He’s as dishy as ever, isn’t he?’

  ‘Is he?’ said Rachel nonchalantly.

  ‘Oh, come on, Rach,’ protested Georgie. ‘You know he is—wow, I could go for him myself. I always thought he wasn’t my type when we were kids but now, well, he’s something else. If you’re not interested, just let me know.’

  ‘And what happened to Robbie from Peru?’ Rachel raised her eyebrows but she was never to hear Georgie’s retort for with a sudden wailing of sirens and screaming of pop music the dodgems leapt into action.

  The fun was fast and furious as amidst shrieks of fear and delight they circled round and round and back and forth, dodging and bumping. Several times Rachel caught glimpses of Lucy’s excited little face or Nick’s profile, his expression tense as he concentrated or relaxed, his head thrown back in a sudden burst of laughter.

  It was the happiest Rachel had seen him and at one point she had to remind herself that he was in the midst of a murder investigation. Indeed, it hardly seemed possible that as the residents of Westhampstead relaxed and enjoyed themselves, one of their number, a young girl at that, lay dead in the mortuary. A family had been torn apart for all time and a killer was still at large. She shivered slightly at the thought then reminded herself that life also had to go on. She as a doctor should know that more than most.

  It wasn’t until after two rides on the dodgems, and as the four of them were making their way through the crowds to the refreshment tents at her invitation, that she caught sight of Terry Payne in the crowd and it came home to her that neither detective was really off duty even for a couple of hours. Even as they mingled with the people of Westhampstead their investigations were ongoing.

  By the time Rachel’s parents arrived, Rachel, Georgie, Nick and Lucy were seated in the late afternoon sunshine, watching a display of Irish dancing in the arena and enjoying hot dogs and coffee in huge polystyrene cups. As her parents approached, Rachel suddenly felt nervous. In the past there had been no love lost between Nick and her mother especially, but that had been a long time ago and they had all moved on since then. It was doubtful that her mother would even remember Nick. A quick glance reassured Rachel that for the moment at least her mother seemed reasonably calm and happy with no sign of the bouts of anxiety that had plagued her of late.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Rachel stood up and kissed both parents on the cheek.

  ‘No, thank you, darling,’ her father replied. ‘We’ve just had one with the mayor and his wife. I have to do the draw in about ten minutes’ time.’

  ‘You remember Nick, don’t you?’ said Rachel, a slight edge of apprehension in her voice as Nick stood up.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Her father shook hands with Nick while her mother’s expression remained perfectly bland. ‘I understand you are with the Westhampstead police now?’ James said.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Nick nodded. Any possible moment of awkwardness was hidden as Georgie began to draw more chairs forward in order for the Beresfords to sit down.

  They chatted amiably for the next few minutes until Philip and Julie came across and bore James away to the main announcement tent. Carefully, Rachel slid into the vacant chair beside her mother. ‘All right, Mummy?’ she said. Her mother didn’t answer, simply giving a slight nod of her head in response. As Rachel looked up she caught Nick’s gaze as he appeared to watch the pair of them. It was impossible to read the expression in his eyes—one of compassion maybe for this woman struck down by such a debilitating disease, or maybe it was one of regret for opportunities missed. She was never to know for at that moment the announcement that the draw was to take place came over the PA system.

 
The big prizes went first—the foreign holiday, cash prizes, weekend breaks in luxury hotels—then the smaller prizes—DVD players, personal CD systems. Towards the end, one of Rachel’s numbers came up.

  ‘Go on,’ said Georgie, ‘go up. I’ll watch your mum,’ she whispered when Rachel cast an anxious glance in her mother’s direction.

  ‘Well done, Rachel,’ said Julie as she presented Rachel with a bottle of brandy.

  ‘Pity it wasn’t the holiday,’ said Philip with a grin. ‘You and I could have had a good time.’ He ducked as his wife landed him a good-natured punch on the arm.

  James turned to draw another ticket and threw Rachel an anxious glance. ‘It’s all right, Daddy,’ she murmured, reading his thoughts ‘Georgie is with Mummy.’

  On her return to their table Rachel found that Nick had risen to his feet. ‘We should be going,’ he said to Rachel.

  ‘Already?’ She could barely hide her disappointment and she knew he must have seen it but suddenly she didn’t care.

  ‘Afraid so,’ he said, then added quietly, so that only she could hear, ‘I have to get Lucy home to her mother and then I need to get back to work. I’ll be in touch,’ he added.

  As his gaze once again met hers she suddenly felt as if by meeting there that day and relaxing together something had changed between them. Dragging her gaze away from his, she looked down at Lucy.

  ‘It’s been lovely to meet you, Lucy,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’ll see you again one day.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Lucy smiled at her and once again Rachel was struck by the resemblance to her father. She could barely remember Marilyn Rooney and what she looked like, but there was no doubting that Lucy was Nick’s daughter. The thought gave her a curious pang, a reminder that if things had worked out differently between her and Nick in the past, Lucy could have been hers.

  As Nick and Lucy began to move, James arrived back at the table and it was at that moment that Diana suddenly rose rather unsteadily to her feet and, leaning forward, peered into Nick’s face.