He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe away her distress, but knew that any movement might be dangerous. The nurse on duty had told him that the doctor was due any moment to give her the result of the tests, and until then he could stay with her.
'You're not going to die,' he said firmly, ignoring the tight knot in his stomach. 'I won't let you;'
'And neither will I if I can help it,' the doctor said from the doorway. 'It's not an embolism. As I thought in the first instance, there's blood in the pleural cavity arising from an internal bleed that started some hours after impact. The actual bleed has stopped but the blood from it is still there. I'm going to withdraw it with a needle and once I've done that you'll feel much better.'
'It won't start again?' she questioned anxiously.
'I doubt it. It was just a one-off sort of thing. The bleed was more from tissue than haemorrhaging or a wound. But we are going to have to keep you here a while longer, just to be on the safe side.'
He turned to Richard.
'I imagine you'll have seen this sort of thing before if you're in general practice.'
'Yes, I have,' he told him, 'but not connected with someone near and dear, which creates a totally different perspective.'
'The nurse will prepare you,' he told Freya 'and I'll be back in a moment to do the procedure.' Turning to Richard, he said, 'You don't need to leave. I'm sure the lady will be glad of your moral support.'
The pain began to reduce as soon as he started to drain off the blood in the pleural cavity, and when he had finished the doctor said, 'You should soon be feeling a lot better. I'll be back to check on you later.' And off he went.
There was exquisite relief in Freya's eyes as she said shakily, 'It would have been just my luck to die when I'd found my daughter. Especially as I'd promised her that I'm going to be around for a long time.'
'In what guise?' Richard asked quickly, wondering what had happened when Freya and Amelia had met earlier.
'As Sister Farnham, of course...for the time being. You don't trust me, do you?'
'Trust seems to be in short supply all round, doesn't it?' he said flatly. 'But none of that matters as long as you make a full recovery.'
'I think the patient needs to rest,' a nurse said at that moment, and Richard got reluctantly to his feet. After the scare of the last few hours he didn't want to leave her side, but Freya was waving him away.
'Go home and get some sleep,' she said quietly. 'And Richard...'
'Yes?'
'Thank you for being there for me. I know that I've complicated your life. That you must have regretted putting a good word in for me with the school governors that day when I went for my interview.'
'Have I ever said that?' he asked levelly.
'No. I'm presuming again, aren't I? That's me all over,' she said drily as the nurse ushered him out.
They were both about to go back home, the woman and the girl—Amelia back under his wing once more and Freya to the Kensington apartment until such time as she was due back at the school.
Richard had visited her each day until she'd been discharged. To their mutual relief there had been no further emergencies and the atmosphere between them had been pleasantly cool.
She'd protested a few times that she was all right and there was no need for him to continue to make the journey between surgeries and the other commitments of the practice, but he'd still gone.
At least one part of the nightmare was receding, he thought as he saw her looking better with every day. All that remained now was for the two of them to find a degree of compatibility in their lives.
If their attraction for each other had been a casualty of circumstances, they would have to accept it in the knowledge that at least Amelia hadn't been hurt. But it didn't take away the feeling of protective tenderness that was there every time he saw Freya in the hospital.
It seemed to be all on his part. After those emotional moments when he'd rushed to her side on the day she'd had the relapse, she'd reverted back to the withdrawn manner that told him he was a long way from being one of her favourite people. He would be a fool if he expected anything more from her, Richard told himself, but she had agreed to let him take her home and he supposed that was something.
If his conscience was still plaguing him, so was hers. Her anger had gone, but the hurt still remained and she was letting Richard see it by keeping him at arm's length, even though her spirits always lifted when he appeared.
Their relationship was at stalemate and likely to remain so. They both knew that. It was as if the core of it had been taken away that day when he'd told her the truth about Amelia.
And ironically that was the bond between them now. It had taken the place of the other thing that had drawn them to each other like a magnet.
So which would you rather have, she asked herself frequently, a life in which your daughter is present, or the love of Richard Haslett?
The answer was always the same. She wanted both. But in spite of his concern on her behalf, she knew deep down that he probably wished her a thousand miles away.
Her conscience wasn't clear with regard to Poppy either. She still hadn't confided in her that Amelia was hers. But instinct was telling her to wait until Amelia was back home.
Freya still found it hard to believe that Richard and Jenny hadn't told Amelia she was adopted. One day, when she was feeling less vulnerable herself, she would ask him why.
'Don't take me straight to the apartment,' Freya told Richard on the morning she was discharged from the hospital. 'I'd like to see Amelia before you take her home. If we go straight to Poppy's, you can leave me there and she'll take me home later.'
'Fine. Whatever you say,' he agreed mildly.
He was so relieved to see her out of hospital he would have taken her to the moon if she'd asked him to. Seeing her discharged from that place was making him feel that life was slowly becoming normal again. Or at least as normal as it was likely to get.
Once the new year was in she would be returning to Marchmont in readiness for the spring term, and that again would be a step nearer to how it was before. But neither of them would be able to ignore the changes that had occurred in their lives over the holidays.
When they appeared together in the doorway of Poppy's sitting room where the two girls were watching television, Amelia's face lit up and Freya hoped that some of the pleasure there was directed at her.
It seemed that it was.
'Freya!' she cried. 'I wasn't expecting to see you before I went home.'
'Ah, well, there you are, you see. I asked your dad to bring me here first so that I could see you before you went.'
'When will I see you again?'
'After the new term begins. But first I want to give you and Alice your Christmas presents. I asked her mum to go to my place for them. Do you know if she's had the chance?'
Alice jumped to her feet.
'Yes, they're in the hall cupboard. I'll go and get them.'
She'd bought them both the same—designer jeans and smart tops.
'Cool!' they both echoed, and she pretended to collapse with relief.
Richard hadn't spoken. It was the first time he'd seen Amelia with Freya since he'd told her the truth, and as he watched them together he was experiencing a strange feeling. As if the umbilical cord of Amelia's birth had never been severed. That they were still joined together. And where did he come into that?
Unaware of the thoughts chasing through his mind, Freya turned to Alice and asked, 'Was there anything else there?'
The girl eyed her uncertainly. 'Only a plant that my mum's been watering. Shall I go and get it?'
'Yes, please.'
The garden centre had gift-wrapped it on the day she'd bought it and Richard's eyes widened when she offered it to him. 'It's too late to say Merry Christmas, Richard. In any case, it wasn't, was it?
'I saw an advertisement that a new rose had been brought out, sweet-smelling and very beautiful. The grower had called it Jenny's F
arewell and I thought you might like to plant it in your garden.'
Amelia was observing him anxiously, as if she wasn't sure what he was going to say. Neither was Freya for that matter.
'You never cease to amaze me, Freya,' he said in a low voice. 'Only you would have thought of that. Thank you.'
The moment was broken as Poppy appeared behind them, beaming her pleasure at having her friend back in the fold, and then it was time for goodbyes all round.
'Take care, Freya,' he said when they had a moment alone. 'Don't give me any more scares like the last one and take it easy over New Year. No late-night drinking and dancing until you're totally fit again.'
'Yes, Doctor,' she said coolly as their glances held. 'And you take care of Amelia for me. I'm still on the perimeter of her life and likely to be so, which I'm well aware is how you want it to be.'
'So you think you know what I want, do you?' he said evenly. 'Maybe one day I'll get the chance to tell you.'
* * *
Marchmont in January was just as welcoming as it had been in October and, as she gazed around her own small domain, Freya knew just how glad she was to be back.
Only half a mile away was the village, and in the village lived Richard and Amelia. She need look no further for her pleasure in returning.
She'd talked with them on the phone early on New Year's Eve and that had been it since that day at Poppy's. Not because she didn't want to be in touch, far from it. She ached to be near them. But if Amelia sensed that things had changed in some way she might become curious and Freya didn't want that.
Richard had been keen to know how she was feeling and she'd told him in one word. 'Deprived.'
'I was referring to your physical state rather than your mental one,' he'd said.
'No problem there,' she'd assured him. 'I might even ignore your orders and hit the nightspots tonight.'
'That's up to you,' he'd said tightly as a vision of her, vibrant and seductive, in the arms of some uncomplicated guy made him squirm.
'Exactly,' she'd agreed sweetly, and he'd squirmed even more.
She hadn't done that, of course. She'd stayed in for the first time in her life on New Year's Eve with a bottle of champagne and Amelia's photograph at her side.
It was two days to term time and already some of the boarders were arriving. Mostly they were girls whose parents were abroad and they had been staying with relatives over the Christmas break. As the dormitories began to fill up Freya and Marjorie were getting the girls settled in before the big influx of the following day.
By the evening of that first day she could wait no longer to see Richard and Amelia and, telling Marjorie that she was going out for the evening, she drove down to the village.
As she rang the doorbell anticipation was high within her, but it was an elderly woman who opened the door to her and in answer to her enquiry as to whether Dr Haslett was available told her, 'The doctor's out on a call.'
'His daughter, then, maybe?'
'Amelia's at the youth club. Who shall I say has been?'
Freya managed a smile. 'It doesn't matter. I'll call round again.'
That must have been Annie of casserole fame, she thought wryly as she made her way back to the car. So much for the anticipation.
There was a clump of trees near the gate, blocking out the light of the streetlamps, and as she picked her way carefully past them she collided with someone in the darkness. A steadying hand came out and she became still.
'Freya!' Richard breathed. 'Where have you come from?'
Wordlessly she pointed to the house behind her, aware that he was still holding her arm.
With a groan he pulled her closer and cradled her to him, and she couldn't have resisted if she'd tried. There were still a lot of things unsaid between them but in that moment words didn't come into it.
'Why didn't you let me know you were back?' he asked above the golden crown of her head.
'You would have found out soon enough,' she croaked as she found her voice.
The clean male smell of him was making her weak with longing. She wanted him to make love to her there and then in the dark winter night, but even as his mouth came down on hers she was pushing him away.
'I don't think that either of us are into lust without trust,' she said, as if some imp of mischief was pulling her strings.
'What?' he said angrily. 'I thought you knew me better than that. Lust without trust, my foot! You must have a short memory, Caroline...Farnham...Carter. Not so long ago we were in love.'
'Exactly! Past tense...were! I rest my case. I came round here to see Amelia and, having been told that she's not in, was on my way back to Marchmont.'
'So I don't come into it,' he said flatly. 'From now on I will be merely a means to see your daughter.'
'Yes, if that's how you want to see it.'
She couldn't believe that she was saying such things. Was there this much bitterness in her? She hadn't thought so.
On the day that Alice arrived back at school Freya took Poppy for a walk in the grounds. The two girls had gone off on some pursuit of their own and the chance to tell her friend what she longed to hear had presented itself.
'I have something to tell you, Poppy,' she said as they strolled in the winter sunshine.
'Yes?' she said expectantly.
'You were right about Amelia. She is mine. She's my daughter!'
Her friend swung round to face her, goggle-eyed.
'She is? But Richard said—'
'Yes,' Freya said sombrely. 'He told me she wasn't adopted, didn't he? He lied to me because he couldn't bear the thought of any more disruption in Amelia's life.'
Poppy was still goggling.
'So she's yours, Freya, darling! That's amazing. It must have been fate that led Miles and me to place Alice at Marchmont. It's the most fantastic news I've ever heard...and it's even better if Richard and you are in love. But why did he lie to you?'
'I've told you. Because of Amelia. In the end he had to tell me because he's decent and honourable and I've agreed that we won't tell her until we think she can cope with the thought of being adopted.'
'That's a shame after you've waited so long,' Poppy said sympathetically. 'Yet I can see his point. But to have found her at last, Freya. It's just unbelievable!'
'Yes, it is,' she said with a catch in her voice, 'but there's always something to take the edge off things, isn't there? Richard feels so guilty that he keeps backing away from me. Spoiling what we have instead of the bond becoming stronger.'
'Give him time,' Poppy advised. 'That man is worth waiting for.'
Freya nodded in smiling agreement.
'He certainly is.'
CHAPTER NINE
During those first few weeks of term Freya saw little of Richard. There were no health problems amongst the pupils that she needed to consult him on, and if he came to Marchmont for any governors' meetings he didn't stop by the sanatorium.
Of Amelia there were sightings in abundance—in assembly, the dining hall, in the school grounds—and every time she saw her child the pure joy of it was indescribable.
But she was keeping to the promise she'd made to Richard. No way was she going to shatter Amelia's returning confidence in the world about her. Alice's friendship was helping a lot. She was kind and thoughtful and tolerated Amelia's moods because she knew there was a good reason for them.
Time was helping, too, blunting the edge of sorrow and bewilderment. Freya hoped that she was also doing her part from her place on the sidelines of the young girl's life. The rapport that had been there ever since that first day when Amelia had trapped her finger in the desk was strengthening into a bond that she hoped would one day bring them both fulfilment.
But in the meantime she was conscious of the sacrifice that Richard had made. He could have kept quiet about Amelia's origins for ever and his life would have been much less complicated. Yet being the man he was he had put everything that was precious to him in jeopardy and, if his avoidance
of her was anything to go by, had decided that the less they saw of each other the better under the circumstances.
That was until an afternoon when she'd decided to accompany some of the girls on a cross-country run. It was a cold, clear day. Snow had been forecast but the skies when they'd set off had been blue and cloudless.
She'd gone with them for exercise and as they jogged along paths beside fields that were silver with winter's frost it was good to be out in the open. Until one of the pupils twisted her ankle on a hard rut in the ground and collapsed with a cry of pain.
As they all crowded round her, Freya examined the injury and saw that it was a bad sprain. She helped the girl slowly to her feet and asked, 'Can you stand on it?'
'No,' the girl sobbed. 'It's agony.'
'We're going to have to get help,' Freya told the young PE teacher who was in charge. 'I've got my mobile—I'm going to ring Matron to ask her to send us some transport.'
She glanced down at the rough track beneath their feet. 'Though what sort I don't know, as I doubt a car would be able to get up here.'
The sky above them had been darkening steadily over the last few moments and she said anxiously, 'I'll stay here with the injured girl while you get the rest of them back to the school before any more catastrophes occur.'
'Are you sure?' the teacher questioned. 'We're way off the beaten track.'
'Yes,' Freya replied. 'It won't take them long to come for us. I'll examine the ankle properly when we get back, but I think that it is only a sprain. Being immobilised in the cold is probably doing her the most harm at the moment.'
Some of the other girls were shivering and Freya thought that these temperatures were only bearable when one was moving.
'How bad is the ankle?' Marjorie asked when Freya rang her. 'Do I need to phone the helicopter service?'
'Not if you can get some transport up here,' she told her, 'but we are out in the wilds.'
'I think we might have just the thing!' Marjorie exclaimed. 'In fact, I'm sure we have. Stay put, Freya. Help is at hand.'
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