Delia met his gaze. Although her face was grey with pain and exhaustion, humour brought a twinkle of amusement to her hazel eyes. ‘Feisty little thing, isn’t she?’
‘That she is,’ Luca agreed with a smile.
Admiration welling within him, his focus strayed back to Polly who was standing by the window, the toes of one sandalled foot tapping the carpeted floor with impatience. Despite his determination to ignore the intense reaction he had felt for her from the moment they had met, his interest and fascination had grown with each day that passed. Now it was Thursday, his fourth day working at the surgery, and while he had come to know Polly extremely well as a doctor, he had discovered frustratingly little about her personally, apart from basic tastes in books, music and that sort of thing.
What meagre details he had gleaned had been thanks mostly to colleagues, especially in the staffroom, where questions had been asked and confidences shared. Everyone had been friendly and welcoming, helping him find his place at the surgery, and it was thanks to the general chat and the occasional moment of indiscretion that he knew that this was the first time Polly had returned to Penhally since leaving at the age of seventeen. He had also learned that Carrick was her mother’s maiden name, but no one seemed certain about why or when she had undertaken the change of surname, although rumour suggested that she had, at one time, been married. Whether that meant she was widowed, divorced or separated, he had not yet ascertained.
Luca wanted to know more, much more, but he had declined to ask…so for. Although his list of questions was rapidly multiplying. Polly chose to melt into the background, hoping not to be noticed. Why? At first he’d wondered if it was just him she was wary of, but he’d soon discovered she was the same with everyone. Polly was fiercely private—a trait they shared—and, as she had refrained from probing into his life, so he had shown her the same respect. He was hoping that, in time, she would come to trust him and would freely volunteer some of her secrets.
That Polly was an incredible doctor had been apparent from that first consultation with Sandy Murray. She was a wonderful listener, empathetic and instinctive, and adept at assessing what patients responded to—an arm around the shoulder, a challenge to motivate them, or a push to face up to reality and to take back control of their lives and their bodies. She wanted the best for them and she gave of herself to help them. And Delia was right about the feistiness. Polly gave total support to her patients, fighting battles for them and prepared to take on their problems.
Nick had told him Polly was good with young teenagers, but as far as he could see she was wonderful with everyone, young and old alike. The only times he had seen her in any way uncomfortable and forced was with young children. He didn’t believe for a moment that she disliked them, but she was certainly awkward with the younger ones around the age of his twins. He had yet to work out why. In his experience, children were excellent judges of character, and they gravitated to Polly, just as everyone else did, but there was a definite reserve from her. It was yet one more puzzle to figure out about her.
Rosie and Toni were his top priority. Everything he did was for them. And if there was ever to be anyone in his life in future, they would have to love the girls, and the girls them. But that was no more in his plans than flying to the moon, and he had not so much as noticed another woman since Elaine had died…until Polly.
Luca’s insides squeezed with pain and guilt and confusion, just as they always did when he thought of Elaine. Then came the lance of hurt at what she had done. He didn’t want anyone new in his life, he hadn’t even thought about it. So why now? And why, of all women, was it Polly who had captured his attention? In build and colouring she was definitely not the type of woman he had been attracted to before Elaine. And she was nothing like adventurous, outgoing Elaine, who had been tall and athletic, with womanly curves, dark auburn hair and green eyes. But his body appeared to have a will of its own. It was rousing itself from a long—and, he had thought, permanent—hibernation, and, inexplicably, Polly was the was the woman making it happen.
He didn’t want this. But day by day he was in deeper and deeper trouble, more and more intrigued by Polly. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t understand it. But somehow, from the first moment of meeting her, his inner radar had been plugged directly into Polly’s frequency. Not just in physical terms with the searing sexual attraction between them, although his body’s instinctive response to her was irrefutable, but…He couldn’t find the right word. Not emotionally, or even mentally. More spiritually, which sounded completely wacky and off the wall. But how else to explain the fact that although Polly presented a smiling face and an air of outward calm to the world—and anyone looking at her would think she was fine—he knew it was an act, a public face, hiding her emotions, presenting a serene façade quite at odds to how she was feeling within.
How did he know that? How could he see what no one else could? Things Polly didn’t want them to see. He didn’t know how, but he sensed when she was unsettled or upset, as had happened with Sandy Murray on Monday when the man had mentioned Polly’s past.
His heart skipped a beat as he looked at her now, standing illuminated in a patch of sunlight by the window, her wavy ash-blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her style of dress was unique. She put colours together that ought to clash horribly, but on her they looked right. Long gypsy skirts—today’s was a patchwork of purples—several layers of assorted tops that threatened to swamp her, and, on her feet, sandals with little or no heel.
Luca’s gaze journeyed down, paused at the flash of bare ankles that looked far too slender to hold her upright, and then he noticed the delicate feet and the purple-painted toenails. His gut tightened. Dio! Now he was developing a toe fetish. The attempt to mock himself failed, and it was a struggle to force his gaze upwards again, where it paused at the collection of assorted bangles on her right wrist that jangled softly as she moved, before returning to her expressive face as she talked.
One word had popped unbidden into his head when he had first met Polly on Monday and, despite trying to keep his distance from her, mentally and physically, he found himself thinking of her by the nickname all the time. Zingarella…little gypsy in Italian.
Time was flying by. He’d been taking his own consultations since Tuesday and had told himself he was relieved to be spending less time in Polly’s company, but no matter how many times he told himself he wasn’t interested, he found himself looking for her, listening for the sound of her voice and waiting impatiently for the hours they spent together doing home visits, which then rushed by far too quickly. Already the first week was nearly over. One more and he would be on his own and opportunities to work with Polly would be restricted.
Thankfully, after Monday their journeys out together had been undertaken in his car, but today it had let him down, developing a mechanical fault that meant it was now in the local garage, being fixed. It also meant he’d had to break a promise to himself never to get in Polly’s car again. It was nothing to do with her driving. It was simply far too cramped, increasing his awareness and confining them so closely that he inhaled the subtle but intoxicating scent of her with every breath—a flowery, old-fashioned scent he couldn’t immediately name. But it was heady and sexy and drove him crazy. At least his four-wheel-drive—roomy enough to accommodate two growing girls and their assorted stuff—afforded sufficient space that Polly wasn’t brushing against him with every gear change or turn of the steering wheel.
‘Yes, of course I’m still waiting!’
Polly’s words pulled him from his thoughts and refocused his attention. The exasperation as she responded to the person on the other end of the line was obvious. She turned around and paced back towards the bed. Meeting his gaze, she rolled her eyes, sharing several moments of deep connection before returning her attention to their patient and leaving him trying to regain his equilibrium.
‘Don’t worry, Delia,’ she said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand
and sending the woman a warm smile. ‘I’m not sending you back to St Piran’s unless absolutely unavoidable. I just need to shake them up a bit.’
Luca couldn’t help but smile at the image of this half-pint-sized young woman taking on the stubborn bureaucracy of the hospital administrators.
Hearing Delia’s moan of pain as she tried to reach out with her free hand for a glass of water, Luca moved to make her more comfortable, supporting her as he held the glass for her. ‘Just take a few sips,’ he advised her, concerned that too much water too soon might aggravate her nausea.
‘I’m sorry to put everyone to this bother,’ Delia apologised, the catch in her voice betraying how raw and close to the surface her emotions lay.
‘You’re not a bother, Delia,’ Polly insisted. ‘None of this is your fault. We want the best for you.’ She hesitated a moment, then smothered a curse. ‘If they put me on hold again, I’m going to scream!’
Leaving Polly to focus on her call, Luca took over the task of reassuring Delia. He explained the arrangements he and Polly had already put in place, including switching Delia to stronger painkillers and prescribing an anti-sickness medication as well as the antibiotics.
‘Someone will come in morning and night to assist you, and Rebecca Grey, one of Penhally’s district nurses, will call in every day to begin with to check your dressing,’ he told her, smiling at her surprised expression. ‘Polly has spoken with the two neighbours you’re friendly with, and both are eager to help you with anything you need, so don’t be afraid to ask. And ring the surgery any time. OK?’
Tears moistened Delia’s lashes. ‘Thank you. You’ve both been terrific.’
Polly finished her call with the hospital and sat down to speak with Delia. When Polly’s mobile phone rang, Luca offered to answer it, and was rewarded with the kind of smile that set his blood on fire and made him think things he had not thought about for a very long time. Disturbed by her affect on him, he picked up the phone and stepped out of the room.
‘Oh, hi, Luca,’ Chloe greeted him as he answered the call. ‘I’m sorry to bother you. We have a bit of a crisis.’
Kate Althorp walked slowly through St Piran Hospital, a place she had become far too familiar with since July and which, after tomorrow, she hoped never to spend time in again. Not as a patient, anyway.
Tomorrow was the last day of her radiotherapy, a necessary treatment after a successful lumpectomy had removed a cancerous growth from her breast but one she had endured the last five weeks and which had left her tired, emotional and with other side-effects like a dry mouth, sore throat and a rash. And, as she approached the end of her treatment, there had been some redness and blistering of the skin. Still, as Rob had said, at least she hadn’t been horribly sick.
Thinking about Rob made her smile. And yet she also felt a touch of sadness. He had been so wonderful to her and she had come to care deeply for him, appreciating the fact that, for the first time in years, she didn’t have to carry every burden alone. But always at the back of her mind, lurking and tormenting, was the spectre of Nick and his inability to face up to the reality of Jem and his responsibilities.
She hadn’t seen Nick since he had come to the hospital after her operation, and she knew he was avoiding her. Just as she knew, thanks to comments from various visitors, that Nick was ever more aloof at work, his moods uncertain, largely due to burning the candle at both ends and apparently working his way through many of the available women in Cornwall. It was none of her business—but it hurt.
Approaching the front doors, where she had arranged to meet Chloe, Kate tried to set Nick aside. It did no good to dwell on him. He found it impossible to give her what she needed, whereas Rob was the exact opposite. He treated Jem the same way he did Matthew, his own son. And, for her, Jem’s well-being took priority over everything else.
‘Hi, Kate.’
‘Polly!’
It took a moment for Kate to adjust her thoughts. Polly was not just her goddaughter but like a younger sister and, most definitely, a friend. Seeing her here now brought a flash of concern at the unexpected change of plan.
‘Is everything all right? What’s happened to Chloe?’
Polly smiled, linking arms as they walked side by side towards the main doors. ‘Chloe’s fine. She’s sorry not to come herself but even though she isn’t on duty, she was called to one of her mums and an emergency delivery.’
‘Oh, dear. I do hope mother and baby will be all right.’ Worry was uppermost as they stepped outside into the warm September air.
‘Chloe says everything is fine,’ Polly reassured. ‘Luca and I were halfway between here and Penhally on our final home visit, so it was no trouble to come and collect you. And Oliver is taking over for tomorrow because I haven’t been able to escape this wretched talk Nick’s arranged for me at the school.’
‘You’ll do fine, my love,’ Kate reassured her, hiding her own concern about Polly going back there.
Polly shivered. ‘I hope so. About Nick…’ she added after a pause.
‘What about him?’ Kate asked, wariness setting her nerves on edge.
‘Chloe said the only other person able to collect you was Nick, and you would rather he didn’t.’ Kate noted Polly’s indecision as she paused and bit her lip. ‘Not that I’m sorry to come myself, but I was puzzled. You and Nick were always good friends. Has something happened?’
‘It’s a long story—and one I’ll explain once this week is over and we have some time alone,’ Kate promised, dread settling like a lead weight in her stomach.
She owed the truth to Polly, of all people. Indeed, she had planned to confess when Polly had returned to Penhally but the events of the last weeks had pushed all other things from her mind. She couldn’t put off the unsavoury task much longer. Despite the September sunshine, Kate shivered. Polly had been fond of James, and Kate didn’t relish the prospect of telling her how she, Kate, had betrayed him on the night he’d died. Fresh tears, which seemed to flow all too readily these last few weeks, beaded her lashes.
‘Oh, Kate, I didn’t mean to upset you!’ the younger woman exclaimed.
‘You haven’t. It’s not you, Polly. I seem to cry over nothing at the moment,’ Kate joked with a forced smile, eager to change the subject.
As they approached the car, the passenger door opened and a stunningly handsome man emerged. Kate saw the expression in the man’s dark eyes as he looked at Polly, and felt Polly stiffen in response. Glancing from one to the other, Kate felt a dart of hope shoot through her. Oh! If only…Polly had been through so much, both as a child and an adult, and from what Kate had heard about the new doctor he, too, had suffered heartache. From the looks of things, they were both fighting the attraction between them, but Kate wished with all her heart that Polly, who so deserved it, would find a way to open herself up to happiness.
‘Now, my love,’ she said, noting the tinge of colour warming Polly’s pale cheeks, ‘I presume this is Luca, our new GP?’
Polly drove out the hospital car park and headed in the direction of Penhally, relieved that Kate and Luca were making small talk, absolving her of the need to join in. She had been thrown by the change of plans, and Chloe’s call for help had left Polly anxious. Although Kate was usually the soul of discretion, Polly felt uneasy bringing Luca along, with the risk of opening up other aspects of her life to him.
She’d been relieved to get Monday over and for Luca to be taking his own consultations, although she still had over a week of joint home visits to survive. In the last few days she’d discovered that Luca was a fabulous doctor, medically skilled and wonderful with patients, setting young and old at ease. Polly took a surreptitious peep at him in the rear-view mirror. If only he was horrible she would be able to forget him and ignore the good looks. But he wasn’t. He was funny, kind and smart. He had the uncanny ability to read her with ease, to see beyond the smile…And he fired her blood in a way no other man had ever done. She forced herself to ignore it because she didn’t
understand it and she didn’t want an involvement with anyone, especially someone with children the age of Luca’s.
After being introduced to Kate, he’d been a total gentleman, charming her and giving up the front seat so she would be more comfortable—even though that meant his athletically muscled body was cramped in the rear of the car. He’d then faced the issue of Kate’s situation with a directness and a gentleness that Kate had clearly appreciated. And anything that made Kate happy and set her at ease met with Polly’s approval.
The older woman had always been strong, coming through whatever life had thrown at her, but Polly knew this was the toughest thing Kate had faced—along with the death of her husband James. Polly was very proud of her friend. She was also relieved that, however difficult things might be for her, facing up to the past and searching for a place where she fitted in, fate had brought her back to Penhally at the very moment Kate had needed all her friends around her.
‘Yes,’ Kate was saying, in answer to a question from Luca, drawing Polly’s attention back to the conversation. ‘Tomorrow is my final day of rads, and it can’t come soon enough.’
‘The last three months must have been an ordeal for you, not to mention very scary,’ Polly heard Luca sympathise, the sound of his voice sending a wave of tingles skittering down her spine.
‘It’s not been easy,’ Kate admitted. As Polly halted at a road junction, Kate briefly laid a hand on her arm and smiled. ‘But everyone has been wonderfully kind and supportive, especially my little Polly.’
Feeling emotional, and very aware of Luca’s presence behind her, Polly shook her head. ‘I haven’t done anything much.’
‘Oh, but you have, my love. Aside from organising the rota for these last two weeks of visits to St Piran’s, setting my mind, and Rob’s, to rest, just having you here at last, and being able to see you every day, has been so wonderful for me.’
‘Kate…’
‘The timing couldn’t have been worse, of course,’ her friend continued, her lack of discretion in front of Luca making Polly intensely uncomfortable. ‘I’ve been so worried about you, and feel as if I’ve abandoned you. I persuaded you to come back here, after all, and then the minute you do, I’m not around for you…more like the wicked witch than your kind godmother!’
Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 4 Page 52