Would Blair pick up on what she meant? she wondered. She was hardly in a position to spell it out. Would he realise that she was telling him how she wished that he was the father of her child and that he’d asked her to marry him for the right reasons?
It was a vain hope.
‘I know it’s awful for you to have to come to terms with the way your affair with Sean has changed your life,’ he said slowly. ‘You’re brave and, as I’ve just said, you’re thinking positively. You’ve no idea how I admire you for it.’
She wanted to yell at him, I don’t want to be admired. I want to be loved…by you…Blair Nesbitt!
‘How about me taking you out somewhere if the evenings are so depressing?’ he was saying. ‘It would make a change for both of us. Summer is nearly over and before autumn starts to make us feel even more wistful about things that are past, let’s escape for a few hours. What do you say?’
Her zest was back.
‘I say…yes! Yes!’
‘Good. I can’t make it tonight as I’ve promised to do a couple of jobs for Briony, but I’m free tomorrow.’
‘Fine,’ she agreed immediately, and then took the edge off her pleasure by asking, ‘What’s she like?’
‘Who? Briony?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tall, slender, long blonde hair, blue eyes and rather introverted.’
‘Unlike me, then. I’m an over-confident, undersized, mop-haired, pain in the neck.’
Blair was laughing, mirth rumbling low in his throat.
‘Let’s just say there are worse things than being a pain in the neck. In the meantime, think about where you’d like me to take you.’
‘I’d like to go to the seaside.’
‘The coast!’ he exclaimed with raised brows. ‘It would be dark by the time we got there.’
‘Not if we asked Andrew to do the early evening surgery. We could set off as soon as we’ve done our home visits.’
‘Er…yes…why not?’ he agreed, and as one of the receptionists came to inform them that the waiting room was filling up again, he reminded her, ‘Don’t forget your bucket and spade.’
As he drove home that night Blair was thinking about something that he’d only heard of that day. The medical profession had been researching postnatal depression, the gloom and uncertainty that so often spoilt for the mother those first few weeks of bonding with her child.
Their findings had shown that women with thyroid problems were more likely to be prone to it. It had been suggested that a simple blood test during the gestation period should be done so that the mother-to-be and her medical advisors were aware if she was likely to experience it after the birth.
Fifteen per cent of women who had given birth fell foul of the depressing illness and not all of them recognised what ailed them. They experienced feelings of shame and defeat because they couldn’t love their child as they knew they should, blaming it on a lack of affection on their part when in truth it was not their fault at all.
The depression did pass eventually, though in some instances not as quickly as the sufferer would like, and the aftermath of it had often led to the destruction of relationships.
He decided that tomorrow he would discuss it with Imogen. Not because he was expecting her to be affected, although he could hardly blame her if she was, but because it was something they could do for their patients. They could test for thyroid malfunction and if it showed up, the expectant mothers would have a better understanding of a problem that was as old as the hills.
That was one thing he was planning for tomorrow. Another was to spend some time with her away from all their cares and concerns. For a few hours he was going to forget that she was going to bear the child of a dead man and that he was still in a state of limbo as to what he wanted from her.
There was Briony on the sidelines. He always brushed aside any comments regarding her, whether from Simon or Imogen, but he was aware that she was expecting something from him and it wasn’t just her odd jobs done.
Maybe he’d overdone the caring friend bit, he thought wryly, but that was what it was going to have to be. She was a nice enough woman but Briony couldn’t compete with the bewitching charms of Imogen.
He knew that she was feeling unlovely at the moment and understood why. Yet there was no need for her to feel that way. Like any other pregnant woman, she was allowing her body to be used as a safe harbour for her unborn child until such time as it was ready to set sail on life’s sea. And though she might not be aware of it, she was completely desirable as far as he was concerned.
Blair was on his way home to get changed at lunchtime the following day when a call came through on his mobile from the same police station where he had met Imogen on a night in spring.
There had been a death in the cells. He was needed urgently to verify just how the prisoner had died. Blair sighed. It was going to delay their trip to the coast.
When he tried to ring Imogen there was no answer, which meant that she was still out on her calls. He was glad of it as it meant that she wouldn’t be there waiting for him just yet. At that moment he had no idea how long he was going to be at the station.
As soon as he walked into the sombre surroundings of the police station Blair could feel tension and unease in the atmosphere. He knew from past experience that the police didn’t like this kind of thing happening on the premises and, whatever he had to say, there would have to be an inquiry.
‘I’m the police surgeon,’ he told a desk sergeant he’d never met before. ‘I believe there’s been a death in the cells.’
‘Er…yes,’ the officer said stiffly, and led the way along a familiar passage. ‘Two of the squad brought in a drunk and disorderly earlier this morning and we put him in a cell to sleep it off. When we went to check on him later he was dead.’
‘I see.’ Blair said grimly, with the clear memory of what had happened to his brother all those years ago. ‘They were sure he was drunk, then? It’s early in the day for someone to be in that state.’
‘Yes, they were sure,’ he was told. ‘The fellow reeked of it.’
The deceased was lying on the bunk against the back wall of the cell. He was well dressed and groomed and looked to be in his thirties. As they drew near Blair’s face tightened. He could see the contorted purple face, the bulging eyes and the dribble of vomit from the man’s mouth.
‘You didn’t need me to tell you what’s happened here,’ he said tersely as he felt in vain for a pulse. ‘He has choked on his own vomit. How often were your men supposed to check on him?’
The sergeant cleared his throat. ‘Every fifteen minutes.’
When Blair eyed him doubtfully he said uncomfortably, ‘Except for a short period when we had a rush on. One of the patrols brought in a gang of hooligans who’d been smashing shop windows and it was a bit hectic for a while…and we can’t be in two places at once, Doc.’
‘Maybe not,’ Blair conceded, ‘but it is my job to protect the safety and well-being of those locked up. That’s what they employ us for and I’m not going to say any different than this fellow choked on his own vomit.’
‘We’ll have the chief constable going spare when he hears about this,’ the other man muttered. ‘It reflects on the station.’
‘Yes, I’m sure it does,’ Blair told him flatly, ‘but bear in mind there is a dead man here, Sergeant, who might still be alive if he’d been properly looked after. And now, as there is nothing I can do for the poor fellow, let’s get on with the formalities, shall we?’
When Imogen saw his expression she didn’t ask Blair why he was late. She’d been watching the afternoon tick away in disappointed exasperation, and when he’d finally pulled up outside the apartments she’d been out there in a flash and strapping herself into the passenger seat before he had a chance to speak.
But the silence had continued to prevail and after covering the first few miles with no words between them she gave up and asked, ‘So who’s upset you?’
‘Your fat
her’s lot,’ he told her grimly. ‘I was called out to a death in the cells. The fellow had choked on his own vomit. What a waste of a life!’
‘There are always two sides to everything, Blair,’ she said placatingly. ‘We’re all guilty of human error at one time or another. They don’t know from one minute to the next who’s going to come rolling into the police station and from being slack one moment, the next every member of the force can be occupied, very often with violent and nasty people.’
‘It doesn’t alter the fact that our function is to protect those in custody when they can’t help themselves,’ he said in the same grim tone. ‘I know it was too late for me to help that poor guy back there, but it rankles that such a thing could happen in a police station full of personnel.’
‘You can rest assured that my father will instigate a full inquiry,’ she said, still in placatory mood. ‘Whatever else he is, he’s an honourable man. And now can we remember that we’re supposed to be out to enjoy ourselves?’ she asked wistfully, as the delight of having him to herself dwindled with each passing minute.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said with the restraint still upon him. ‘I shouldn’t be taking my annoyance out on you. But we are both police surgeons, Imogen. Surely you can see my point.’
‘Well, yes, I can,’ she agreed, with the feeling that this wasn’t going to be a happy outing. ‘I suppose it reminded you of what happened to your brother. But this fellow was under the influence I presume.’
‘Yes, from the smell of him, and anyone who lets themselves get into that state from drinking is a fool…but to end up dead!’
‘Shall we turn back?’ she asked glumly.
He took his eyes off the road for a second.
‘What for?’
‘Well, if you’re going to be in this mood all the time we’re out, we might as well forget it.’
Removing his hand from the steering-wheel, Blair held her clenched fist briefly.
‘I’m sorry, Imogen. It’s just the way I am,’ he said bleakly. ‘If the opportunity is there for me to be of service to someone and I’m not given the chance, it really gets to me.’
‘Like when you offered to marry me to stave off my father’s annoyance?’
He glanced at her sharply. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
Suddenly she wanted to strike out at him. She didn’t want to be reminded that he’d seen her as a charity case.
‘You must have been out of your mind!’
‘Yes, I suppose I must have been,’ he agreed equably, ‘but when I first met you I didn’t know that you had a hidden agenda and by the time I found out it was too late.’
‘Too late for what?’ she breathed, but it seemed that there was still no joy to come.
‘Too late not to feel responsible for you.’
‘I see.’ And turning her head away from him, she spent the rest of the journey with eyes fixed on the passing landscape.
‘Do you want to eat first or should we enjoy the last two hours of sunshine before darkness falls?’ Blair asked as he parked the car on the seafront.
Imogen was perking up now that they’d finally arrived and when he said, ‘I’ve brought a picnic meal,’ her face lit up in surprised pleasure.
‘When did you find time to do that?’ she exclaimed.
He smiled, his earlier moroseness having diminished.
‘I prepared it before I went to the practice this morning and popped it into the fridge.’
Imogen groaned.
‘It takes me all my time to have a shower, gulp down a coffee and get there on time. You are just too perfect for words.’
Her voice had softened and she wondered if he realised just how much she meant it. Blair was perfect. Perfect for her. What a pity that she wasn’t perfect for him.
Unable to resist asking, she probed, ‘Don’t you ever do anything crazy or stupid, Blair?’
He smiled. ‘I’m here with you, aren’t I?’
‘And that’s crazy…stupid?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, if it isn’t already, shall we make it so?’ she said laughingly. ‘The tide’s coming in and the water looks so inviting. I’ve brought my costume and the label boasts that it’s stretch material, so hopefully I’ll be able to get into it. What about you?’
‘Yes. I’ve got my swimming shorts.’
‘So let’s grab a bathing hut and get changed, or we might end up swimming in the dark.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ she entreated as she eased herself out of the loose top and jeans she was wearing.
‘Why not?’ he breathed softly. ‘You’re not ashamed of your shape, are you? You shouldn’t be. Nearly all the great artists have painted pregnant women. Conception and birth are magical…beyond belief.’
Imogen shrugged smooth shoulders. ‘I don’t want to start thinking back to this particular conception, and as to the birth, I’ll think about that when I have to. I only care about this moment, here with you. If you can stand seeing my nakedness, Blair, come and put your hands on me and feel the child moving inside me.’
He came across and stood before her and she thought that whatever she looked like, he was beautiful. Lean and strong-boned, broad-chested and trim-hipped. She ached for her self-imposed celibacy to be over.
His touch was gentle, reverent almost.
‘Fantastic!’ he breathed as he felt the movement beneath the taut skin. Then his hands moved to her breasts, caressing their ripe fullness and teasing the nipples into rosy hardness. As he kissed each one in turn she whispered, ‘You know I want you to make love to me, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do. But you know I’m not going to, don’t you?’
‘Yes. I do.’
‘So let’s go and frolic in the sea, and once we’ve had our fill we’ll get dried off and have a picnic.’
The sun was ready to set and most of those who’d been there when they’d arrived had wandered off for their evening meal, so they had the beach almost to themselves.
For once Imogen was content. She understood why Blair hadn’t made love to her. But maybe one day, she thought dreamily as the waves lapped against her feet, maybe one day he would see her in a different light and then the possibilities would be endless.
They sat on the last strip of dry sand in the warm late summer darkness and ate the meal that he’d brought. Salad, sandwiches, fresh fruit and cream…and champagne.
Imogen wanted it to go on forever, but the moonlit water was edging nearer with every wave that came crashing in and at last Blair said, ‘We better pack up or what’s left of the picnic will be washed out to sea and us with it.’
She stretched her arms up to the heavens and said softly, ‘I know. We started off on a low note but ever since we arrived here it’s been magical. I won’t forget this day, Blair. It’s so long since I enjoyed myself I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.’
He smiled at her in the darkness.
‘So we’ll have to do it again?’
‘Yes, please,’ she breathed.
When they got back to her apartment she asked him in but he shook his head and told her, ‘I’ve already resisted temptation once today. I don’t want to have to hang onto my resolves again. I’ll see you tomorrow. And, Imogen…’
‘Yes?’ she said expectantly.
‘Make sure that the door is securely locked when I’ve gone.’
‘Yes,’ she said again, with meek obedience taking the place of anticipation. Even though she wasn’t quite sure what it was she’d been anticipating.
The bright bubble of happiness burst two days later. On another warm evening Imogen was shopping in the local supermarket on her way home from the practice when a voice from behind her said, ‘I believe you’re Imogen Rossiter.’
Swinging round in surprise, she found herself face to face with a tall, solemn-looking blonde.
‘You may have heard Blair speak of me. I’m Briony Matthews,’ she explained. ‘Could I have a word?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Imogen said breezily from behind her shopping trolley, thinking that she didn’t know what impending doom felt like but could make a guess.
‘You’re pregnant, I believe,’ the other woman said coolly.
‘Well, I’m certainly not this shape normally,’ Imogen said with a smile. ‘What can I do for you? Though before you answer, why don’t we move across to the café? We are rather causing a blockage with our trolleys.’
‘Yes, quite so,’ Briony agreed. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’
‘No, thanks just the same,’ Imogen told her. ‘It’s been a long day at the practice and I’m anxious to get home.’
‘Right, I’ll get to the point,’ she said. ‘Blair and I have become very close since my husband died and I would like to know if the child that you’re carrying is his.’
As Imogen’s face stretched in amazement she went on, ‘I wasn’t aware that you existed until yesterday, when I went to consult Andrew Travis and was astounded to hear from him that at one time Blair and yourself were contemplating marriage, but have postponed it until after your child is born.’
Imogen goggled at her. She could do without this. The third degree from someone who obviously thought she had a claim on Blair.
Yet maybe she had. He hadn’t been very forthcoming when this woman’s name had been mentioned previously, so perhaps there was something between them and he wasn’t prepared to say.
But where did that leave her, apart from feeling devastated at the thought of him with someone else? Should she tell Briony the truth? That the baby wasn’t his, which would make him look somewhat foolish in front of all those who’d been led to believe it was. Or did she go along with the charade they’d got themselves involved in and tell this woman who had appeared out of the blue that he was the father.
‘I suspect that this is entrapment,’ her blonde inquisitor was saying. ‘The result of a one-night stand maybe, and you see the opportunity to ensnare him. Blair is a very special man who doesn’t normally sleep around, but I suppose we all make mistakes some time and if a woman told him that her child was his he would do the honourable thing.’
Imogen was in the grip of anger now. How dared this woman say such things about her? Entrapment! She was jumping to conclusions and poking her nose into her affairs at the same time.
The Pregnant Police Surgeon Page 11