'What is that?' she asked coolly.
'I've promised to go to Anita's tomorrow.'
'Oh, well!' she mocked. 'Do put first things first. Far be it from me to interfere with your arrangements.'
'It's the best thing, believe me,' he said with a sort of grim patience, and with an angry sigh she rang off.
Richard could have told Freya that spending the day with Anita would be the easy option. His conscience was clear where Anita was concerned. He hadn't done the school secretary a grave injustice and could look her in the eye without guilt washing over him in a besmirching tide.
He knew that she would like to take their friendship further and saw herself as the ideal person for him to marry. Sadly for her, he had no intention of doing anything about it. But at least in her company he wasn't having to watch everything he said or did.
With Freya it was a different matter. He knew that she must think his behaviour peculiar. But it was as if he was trying to fight his way out of a sticky quagmire of his own making and one day soon was going to be sucked under by it.
As he rang for the next patient to come in and brought his mind into line with the problems in other people's lives, the day ahead took over, and as one of the oldest residents in the village slowly seated herself opposite, Richard smiled.
Emma Beckett was another woman who complicated his life, but in a different way. She was ninety-nine years old, with failing vision and limited mobility, amongst other age-related deficiencies.
But as he observed her wrinkled nutmeg face across the desk Richard knew that here was ^ razor-sharp mind that physical frailties hadn't blunted. He'd tried to persuade Emma to go into sheltered accommodation but she wasn't having any. He'd suggested that he get her some help from Social Services, both financially and in the home, but all to no avail.
When a social worker had called to help her fill in a form for an allowance freely given to the elderly and infirm to help boost their retirement pension and provide finance for extra food and help they might need, she'd answered 'no' to almost every question concerning her health that would have led to the granting of the allowance. Until the social worker had suggested tactfully that maybe they should start again.
'I don't need it,' Emma told her with the decisiveness that was so characteristic of her.
'But what about your daughter who comes each day to shop and clean for you?' she was asked. 'This allowance would help towards her petrol and for the fact that coming here as she does prevents her from taking up employment.'
The old lady immediately saw the logic of that and gave in gracefully for her devoted daughter's sake, but it was the only thing she gave way on.
'I'm not going into a home as long as I can move around and do things for myself,' she told Richard.
'It would be company for you,' he said.
'My own company's good enough for me,' she retorted. 'I've got my music, a magnifying glass for my library books...and my memories.'
'All right,' he agreed, 'but at least let me come to you if you need me. I don't want you making your way to the surgery on your own.'
'We'll see,' she promised unconvincingly, but here she was, as independent as ever.
'And so how are you, Doctor?' she asked before he had the chance to speak.
He laughed.
'That's my line, Emma. And I'm very well, thank you. What can I do for you? I seem to remember telling you that when you need me I'll visit.'
'When I can't manage to get to the surgery I'll let you know,' she said with a twinkle in her old eyes. 'In the meantime, will you have a look at my leg? I caught it with my nail when I was putting my stockings on yesterday and it keeps bleeding.'
Richard frowned when he saw the state of her leg. The skin was paper thin with age and what to anyone else would have been a minor scratch had developed into a big area of weeping flesh.
'I'm going to prescribe you some cream for that,' he told her, 'and send you to the nurse to have it dressed. She'll come out to you each day until it's healed. And Emma, I don't want to see you in here again. I will visit you in future.'
'All right, then, if you're going to make a fuss,' she conceded, and followed it by asking, 'And so what will you be doing this Christmas? You and that girl of yours?'
'Amelia is spending it with a school friend in London.'
'And you?'
'I'm staying here.'
'That wife of yours was a nice lass.'
'Yes, she was.'
'So why don't you do what she would want you to?'
'And what would that be?'
'Find yourself a new wife and give the child a mother.'
He wondered what Emma would say if he were to tell her that Amelia had a mother...on the sidelines maybe, but a mother nevertheless.
When he went back into his room after leaving the old lady in the care of one of the practice nurses Richard went to the window. Across the fields he could see the roofs of Marchmont School above the trees and he wished he could turn the clock back to the day when Freya had gone there for her interview.
Part of him wished they'd never met so that the burden of Amelia's parentage wasn't upon him but, in truth, meeting her was something he wouldn't have wanted to miss. If only things had been different, she would have given added meaning to his life.
As it was, the day of reckoning had still to come and what the aftermath of it would be he dreaded to think. If Freya insisted on Amelia knowing the truth then they would all have lots of decisions to make about the future. And Amelia's needs would have to come first.
How would they react to each other when it all came out? he wondered. He only hoped that the liking between them would turn to love and not hate.
His last patient of the day before the surgery closed for Christmas was at the opposite end of the age scale to Emma Beckett.
A fraught young mother had brought her toddler to the surgery with what looked like measles. The child was hot and fretful with sore eyes and a runny nose, and a rash was beginning to appear.
It wasn't the first case he'd seen in the last few weeks, and all of the children concerned attended the same day nursery, which was giving rise to the possibility of an epidemic.
'Has your child had the three-in-one vaccine?' he asked as he examined the toddler.
She shook her head worriedly.
'No. My husband and I were afraid it might harm him and we couldn't afford the single jabs.'
'The three in one has been and still is used in many countries,' he told her. 'I know there have been odd cases where it might appear that it has damaged the child, but the medical profession is of the opinion that they were probably instances where the little one would have developed the complications anyway. The amount of risk is very small when compared against the millions of children who have been given it with no ill effects.
'But the priority at the moment is to treat the measles now that it has developed, and I suggest that when you get home you keep your little one in a darkened room for a few days until the rash has gone.
'Send for me immediately if he develops any ear or chest problems. I'll give you something to bring his temperature down, and in the meantime give him plenty of fluids.'
When she'd gone he found that most of the staff had departed, eager to be home with their families as Christmas Eve approached. There was just one receptionist left on duty, and when she'd gone Richard locked up and went home.
He'd had a few invitations for the evening but they all lacked appeal. He knew where he wanted to be and with whom, but the two females in his life were far away in London. One of them happy and content and the other irritated and confused.
A winter sun was sinking below the skyline as he let himself into the house. Instead of switching on the lights, he went to sit at the kitchen table in the fast fading light.
How long he was seated there he didn't know, but a footstep on the patio outside brought him out of his reverie. As the door swung open he got to his feet and switched on the li
ght.
His jaw went slack when he saw who it was.
'You are the last person I expected to see,' he breathed. 'Especially after what I said this morning.'
There was challenge in every line of her body as Freya stood framed in the doorway.
'Yes, I suppose I am,' she said steadily as she began to walk slowly towards him, 'but I'm not the kind of person who takes no for an answer. I needed to see you, Richard. To see your face, hear your voice.
'I understand why you need time to adjust to having me in your life and respect you for it, but I do need you to tell me you care. I've got to have something to hold onto.'
With his face like a bleached white mask he took her by the shoulders and she winced as his fingers dug into her flesh, but her steadfast gaze didn't falter and it was that look that made him lose control.
'You're asking me to tell you that I care, are you? Yes! Yes! I do!' he cried. 'But there's a problem that you're not aware of...and it's not loyalty to Jenny or a reluctance to make a commitment to you. I've lied to you, Freya. Amelia is adopted. Her mother is Caroline "Farnham" Carter and, as we both know, that's you. Do you still want me now?'
Freya reeled back as if he'd struck her in the chest, eyes wide with disbelief, mouth agape and legs wilting beneath her.
'Amelia's my daughter!' she choked. 'You're telling me that she's my child. You've known all along that she belonged to me and never told me.' Her voice rose. 'So I wasn't wrong about the likeness. How could you do that to me? Why, Richard? Why?'
'Why do you think?' he said heavily. 'She doesn't know that she's adopted. How is she going to feel, having a mother that she's never known sprung on her after losing Jenny?'
'And you thought that I'd be so desperate to reveal myself to her that I wouldn't take that into account.'
'No one could blame you if you did feel like that. You've searched for her long enough,' he said flatly.
'What kind of a monster do you think I am?' she shrieked as the numbness began to wear off and outrage took its place. 'Or maybe it's you who are the monster, playing God with Amelia and me.
'I see now why you've been so cagey. I'm going back to London.'
With a quick about-turn she was gone and as if turned to stone he didn't move until the sound of her car engine had died away. Then he sank down onto the chair he'd been occupying and buried his head in his hands.
As she began the return journey Freya's handling of the car was mechanical. She was barely aware of leaving the village and turning onto the motorway.
The reaction to what should have been the most wonderful moment of her life was beginning to affect her, and she was shaking all over.
Richard had known all these weeks, she kept telling herself, and hadn't said a word. Jenny was gone. The person who had filled the role that she'd cast aside in youthful agony and confusion wasn't there to be hurt, but Amelia was and she understood Richard's desperate efforts to protect her. But couldn't he have trusted her to feel that same protectiveness?
As her eyes filled with tears a car cut in front of her and she didn't see it. The next thing she knew was the back of it looming up in front of her and then blackness descended.
It was some minutes before Richard's despair gave way to purpose and then he knew he had to act. Had to be there when Freya saw Amelia again. He had no idea what she was going to do but it stood to reason that she would go straight to where the child was, if only to take in the fact that Amelia was her daughter.
When he flung himself into the car his eyes went to the petrol gauge and he groaned. He would have to fill up and it was half past four on Christmas Eve. Suppose the local garage was shut? He hadn't enough fuel to get him to the next one.
He caught them just as they were due to lock up and as the owner obligingly waited for him to fill the tank he said with a grin, 'Nothing is too much trouble for you, Doc, since you sorted out my haemorrhoids.'
An hour had been lost, he thought as he turned onto the motorway. Freya had got a start on him but he might make up the time if he got into the fast lane.
It was a vain hope. There'd been an accident a few miles ahead. The motorway police were screeching up and down the hard shoulder but the traffic was held up for miles.
It began to move eventually but it was at a snail's pace and he thought raggedly that she would be almost there and he was still in his own neck of the woods.
At last it was clear. It seemed that the vehicles had been removed and the injured taken to hospital. The accident had been too far in front for him to offer his services and he thought grimly that he wouldn't have been much use if he had, the state he was in.
When he got to Poppy's house there was no sign of Freya's car outside, and when Poppy opened the door to him the surprise on her face told him that she knew nothing of recent events.
'Has Freya been here during the last few hours?' he asked.
'Er...no. Come in,' she invited, adding as he stepped into the hallway. 'We're not expecting her until tomorrow.' She was eyeing his ravaged face. 'Is anything wrong?'
Richard dredged up a smile.
'No. We'd arranged to spend the evening together and she wasn't at her place when I called, so I thought she might be here.'
Amelia must have heard his voice and she came running into the hallway crying, 'Dad! What are you doing here?'
He swung her up into his arms and held her so close that she cried laughingly, 'I'm suffocating.'
She had no idea that she was at the centre of a huge breakdown in communication between Freya and himself, he thought, and prayed that the fact that Freya hadn't gone straight there meant that she'd calmed down a bit.
He was desperate to find her but couldn't just rush off after not seeing Amelia for almost a week so, concealing his anxiety, he forced down a glass of sherry and a piece of cake, then took his departure after promising to call again the following day.
When Poppy found out what he'd done he would be lucky if he ever set foot in her house again, he thought sombrely as he pointed his car in the direction of Freya's apartment. Because find out she would, sooner or later.
The apartment was in darkness with no sign of its owner, and now he was becoming anxious about Freya's whereabouts. She wouldn't have done anything stupid, would she? Like what? a voice inside his mind asked.
He shook his head. It was hardly likely. Not after discovering her lost child after all these years. Yet he'd spoilt the moment, hadn't he? Taken the joy out of it. All for the love of Amelia.
What was he going to do now? He had nowhere to stay and he wasn't going back home until he'd spoken to Freya again. The only thing to do was settle down in the car and wait for her to arrive.
As he got behind the steering-wheel once more a horrifying thought came into his mind and he couldn't believe that it hadn't registered before. The accident! On the motorway! Had it been Freya in one of the cars involved?
He could feel the collar of his shirt sticking to his neck as a sweat of dread broke out on him. As he fumbled in his pocket for his mobile phone, the more he thought about it the more likely it seemed that he had the answer to her non-appearance.
As a doctor he knew which would be the nearest hospital to where the accident had taken place, and the answer to his enquiry was that there had been three cars involved in the accident but only one driver had been admitted to the nearest hospital.
Yes, a lady by the name of Farnham had been admitted to A and E with chest and neck injuries. She had regained consciousness a short time ago and was being transferred to the ward during the next hour.
When he'd rung off Richard sat in dismayed silence. Had Freya been involved in an accident because she'd driven off in a distressed state? Or had it been someone else's fault? What did it matter as long as she wasn't too badly hurt? But the information from the hospital hadn't been all that good and he had to get to her as soon as possible to see for himself.
He would wait to tell Poppy until he'd seen her, otherwise her Christmas would
be spoiled, too. Freya wouldn't want her friends and...her daughter to be worrying over her if she could help it.
When he got to the hospital he went straight up to Women's Surgical and was told that the accident victim had been placed in a small side ward.
Freya was sitting up in bed with a surgical collar on her neck and strapping around her chest. Her face was bruised. She had a black eye and when he appeared there was no welcome for him.
'How are you?' he asked anxiously.
'How do you think?' she replied coldly.
'What happened out there on the motorway?'
'I lost concentration for a second and ran into a car that had just pulled in front of me from the other lane. Then the car behind ran into me, slamming me up against the steering-wheel and knocking me unconscious.'
'If you hadn't gone chasing off like that, it wouldn't have happened,' he said tightly. 'I followed you to London, or thought I had, but when there was no sign of you at either your place or Poppy's I began to wonder about the accident that had caused all the delay on the motorway.'
'Go on, rub it in,' she flared back angrily. 'What are you trying to do—make me feel as guilty as you?'
'Oh, I feel guilty all right,' he told her grimly. 'It's been like living with a lead weight inside me over these last few weeks.'
'Yes, but you did it, didn't you? If I hadn't put you on the spot when I turned up this afternoon, you might never have told me.'
Richard took a deep breath.
'I came rushing here because I was worried sick about you, but all I've had is condemnation. I have to live with my deceit, but I would ask you to bear in mind that I lied to you for one reason only. Amelia has been very fragile mentally since losing her...Jenny, and I didn't want any further pressure put on her until she was ready to cope with it. I know I should have trusted you to act in her best interests, but I can't help having my fears and, my desire to protect her is both right and natural. You must understand that, Freya.
'And now I'm going to phone Poppy and Miles so that they know what's happened to you. I've just been told that the hospital is keeping you in over Christmas, although nothing is broken. But you've got serious bruising of the chest and whiplash injuries to the neck. So I'll see you tomorrow.'
The Nurse's Child Page 11