Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2

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Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2 Page 18

by Various Authors


  In fact, she only had to wait five minutes before the phone rang. She picked it up at once. ‘Captain Smith, I—’

  ‘Hello, Maddy? Have you missed me?’

  She had been expecting to hear from the captain and this was not his voice. She knew she recognised it but who could…? And then she realised and stiffened with horror. It was a voice she had never wanted to hear again.

  It was Brian Temple, her ex-fiancé…the cause of so much pain. It was the man who was responsible for her giving up the A and E work she had enjoyed so much. The man who had ruined her life. The man responsible for her taking on this job—just to get away from him.

  ‘Are you there, Maddy? I know it’s you.’ There was that faint alteration in tone. Brian always needed attention at once.

  ‘What do you want, Brian? I thought I made it quite clear I never wanted to hear from you again. You seemed to get the message, to accept it. We agreed that everything between us was over.’

  As ever, he paid no attention to what he didn’t want to hear. ‘You know you didn’t mean that. A pal of yours told me that you were docking tomorrow, so I thought I might meet you off the ship. We could get together and go and have a chat and a drink.’

  ‘No! We’ve been through all that. Brian, we are over!’

  His voice took on that whining, angry tone that she knew so well and hated so much. ‘Maddy, I love you! We love each other, we both know that.’

  ‘We don’t love each other. I’m not seeing you, Brian. I wish you well but you’re out of my life for ever.’

  ‘You can’t say that!’

  She could feel genuine pain in his voice so gently she asked, ‘Are you taking your medication regularly?’

  ‘I don’t need it so I stopped.’

  Maddy sighed. This was likely to go on for ever.

  He paused a moment and his voice took on a totally different, more unpleasant tone. ‘I suppose you’ve found somebody else. A fancy ship’s officer or some rich old man. Well, I told you before, I won’t have it.’

  Suspicion. Was there anything more hateful than constant, unprovoked suspicion? Their entire relationship had been tormented by it. For a moment she was angry, and was tempted to lie to him, to tell him that she had indeed met a man. But she knew better. It would only cause more trouble.

  ‘After you, I never want to meet another man,’ she said. ‘Now, don’t ever ring me again.’

  But she knew as she replaced the receiver that it was a forlorn hope.

  She went into her cabin and took out the folder of personal papers in the bottom drawer of her desk. For some reason she had kept the last message Brian had sent her when she had set off on the cruise ship. She reread it—it was half pleading, half threatening. And he reminded her of the good times they had had.

  She supposed there had been some good times. Trips to the coast. A weekend in London. Meals she had cooked for him. And their plans for the future—she wanted at least two babies. But then it had all gone bad. She had been unlucky in love—always. Every time she had met a man something had gone wrong.

  She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. She looked out of the porthole, trying to take some comfort from the English coastline she could see slipping past. It looked beautiful in the sun but she was not glad to be back in Britain. There were going to be problems. The terror was coming back.

  She could see cliffs, green moors behind them, the odd white-painted or grey stone cottage. Four years ago she had worked here as a practice nurse for a summer. She’d worked for a Dr Tremayne—Nick Tremayne. He’d been a good doctor. They still exchanged Christmas cards but that was all. In one card he’d told her that he’d moved to a village in Cornwall called Penhally Bay. It must be around here somewhere. She hoped he was happy. Somebody ought to be.

  Her phone rang again and she looked at it apprehensively. It might be Brian…but it was Ken Jackson. ‘Could you come up to see the captain now, please, Maddy?’

  She glanced in the mirror, made sure her shoulderlength hair was tied back, her uniform neat. Captain Smith was very keen on tidiness. ‘Untidy dress suggests an untidy mind which suggests untidy work,’ he had told her. ‘That’s how I run my ship.’ She liked him for it.

  She took a deep breath, picked up her case notes and walked up to his cabin.

  Captain Smith was a giant, white-bearded man. Maddy knew he’d had a distinguished career in the Royal Navy—on the walls of his cabin there were photographs of the ships he had commanded. He smiled at her, invited her to sit down. ‘You need to see me urgently, Maddy?’

  This was a job she didn’t want. She had never dealt with anything like this before. Most of her nursing career had been in A and E rather than dealing with infectious diseases. But, still, it was her duty to report what she suspected.

  ‘I think we may have an outbreak of an infectious disease,’ she said. ‘Exactly what I don’t know, but it seems to be gastroenteritis. You might think it necessary to inform the port authorities. And they might want to quarantine the ship.’

  Captain Smith kept his emotions under strict control. But Maddy could see how much this news dismayed him. Still, he wasn’t going to panic. ‘I see. How many cases so far?’

  ‘Four. But this kind of thing spreads very rapidly. I suspect there’ll be more as soon as I get back to the medical centre.’

  ‘I can believe it. You know that gastroenteritis is sometimes known as the cruise ship disease?’

  ‘I’ve heard it called that.’

  Captain Smith thought for a moment. ‘And you are the only medical staff I have.’

  ‘Quite a few of the stewards have a little medical training. I have a list of them. They are a willing crew and they could act as orderlies. But that is all.’

  ‘True. But we lost a doctor and a nurse yesterday.’

  Maddy could see that had angered him, but he was not going to say so.

  ‘Just how serious is this outbreak?’

  It was necessary here for her to be absolutely accurate. ‘I’m not an expert. But I do know that gastroenteritis can vary tremendously in seriousness. And because many of our passengers are old, they’ll be particularly vulnerable. To find what has caused it, we need someone who can carry out laboratory investigations. I doubt there’ll be any deaths but it will be extremely unpleasant. And, quite frankly, although I feel quite competent to deal with the condition, I need more professional help. There could be just too many cases.’

  ‘I can see that. And when I find out who authorised the removal of two-thirds of my medical team…’ The captain looked thoughtful. ‘Of course, we have to report this to the port authorities and they’ll not let us dock until we know more about the situation. I’ll be in touch with our head office, but they tend not to move too fast in cases like this. So this is my problem.’

  ‘I have a suggestion,’ Maddy said hesitantly, ‘if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind. If you can be of help, that is fine by me.’

  ‘There’s a doctor I used to work with who lives on the Cornish Coast near here. If he’s available, he’d come out. And I know he’s quite an expert in his field. He might give you the advice you need. His name is Nick Tremayne. Tell him I’m the nurse here.’

  ‘Telephone number?’

  Maddy shrugged. ‘I only know that he has a surgery in Penhally Bay.’

  Captain Smith took up his phone. ‘Jackson? There’s a Dr Tremayne who works in Penhally Bay, which is a few miles away. See if you can get him on the phone.’

  Surprisingly quickly, the phone rang back. ‘Dr Nick Tremayne? I’m Captain Smith, captain of the large ship you might see a couple of miles off shore. We have a medical problem.’

  Unashamedly, Maddy listened in to the conversation. ‘Recommended by a Nurse Madeleine Granger…suspected outbreak of gastroenteritis. This would be a private consultation…So quickly? I’d be much obliged.’

  He turned to Maddy. ‘Your doctor’s coming out at once. He says that perhaps I don’t u
nderstand how quickly this can spread to become an epidemic. But I do.’

  Dr Ed Tremayne always rose early. He never slept very much. Those early morning half-sleeps, when you weren’t sure of what was real and what was imagined. Or remembered. And then you woke to reality. It made you vulnerable and Ed didn’t like feeling vulnerable. He liked to feel he was in control.

  For England at the beginning of May, it was a very hot early morning. And it was close too, not like the dry blast of African heat that he remembered so well.

  He parked his car by the beach, kicked off his trainers and tracksuit. Most days he came to this little cove for his early morning swim. He loved it. He loved the solitude and he liked the feeling of freedom in the water.

  He stretched, then carefully looked round him. An old habit that he couldn’t lose. He liked to know where he was, if there was anything he ought to be aware of. There were thick clouds on the horizon, and his experienced eye told him that there would be bad weather later in the day. He also saw a small tent half-hidden in the bushes. In summer a lot of young people came down here, sleeping wherever they could.

  He ran to the sea, glad that no one was around. They’d stare, not at his well-muscled body, but at the scars.

  He swam straight out of the cove mouth. He swam hard and fast, there was pleasure in pushing himself. And when he was in the open sea he stopped, trod water for a moment and again looked around him. Then he frowned.

  A hundred yards away there was a rubber dinghy holding two young people, aged seventeen or eighteen, splashing, enjoying themselves, with two tiny paddles. Ed trod water nearby.

  ‘I don’t think you know these waters,’ he warned. ‘There’s a rip tide out there and if you get caught in it you’ll be pulled out to sea. Better get back into the cove. You’ll be safe there.’

  ‘We know what we’re doing,’ the lad said. ‘We’ll get back when we’re good and ready.’

  ‘I do suggest you go back now,’ Ed said quietly. ‘I know these waters. We have a few people drown every year. You want to be one of them?’

  ‘Yeah, drownings, right. Tell you what, you be careful you don’t drown yourself. At least we’ve got some kind of boat.’

  Ed swam closer. ‘Paddle this thing back into the cove,’ he said mildly, ‘or I’ll turn it over and you can swim back.’

  ‘You’ll kill us!’

  Ed’s voice was calm but firm. ‘I’m trying to stop you from killing yourselves.’

  Suddenly the girl spoke. ‘Kieran, he might be right. And I’m fed up with being out here anyway.’ She looked at Ed. ‘We’re going back now.’

  ‘I’ll hang around until I see you in the cove.’

  He thought he saw that the lad might still be willing to argue, so he said, still in a calm voice, ‘See that shelf of rock over there?’

  The two looked to where he was pointing. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘We found a drowned tourist there two years ago. He’d been in the water two days. He wasn’t a pleasant sight. Now, start paddling back.’

  They did. They paddled hard.

  Ed finished his swim and when he got back into the cove he discovered that the couple, the rubber dinghy and the tent had gone. He shrugged. He knew he’d been hard on them. But better to lose face than be dead.

  He looked round again. On the horizon he saw a cruise ship—not a big one. And close behind it were the dark clouds that meant a storm was coming.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE’D only just bought his cottage. Was still working on it slowly, trying to decide what sort of home he needed. Which meant, of course, what sort of life he wanted to lead. So the cottage seemed somehow half-finished.

  He’d never owned a house before so he loved it. And he knew that in time he’d turn it into the kind of home he would love even more. But something was missing. He knew what it was but he wouldn’t let himself dwell on it. He had made plans, but those plans had been wrecked. Now he had to go forward; the past was gone.

  He had a shower, a quick breakfast and drove up to the surgery. He was not yet a proper partner in the practice, but his father was anxious that he should join them as quickly as possible. There was plenty of work.

  Officially, he was still on sick leave after leaving the army. But that would soon be over. Anyway, he felt well. More or less.

  He loved the work of being a GP, loved the variety, the chance to meet and to know his patients. But in that case…why was he not more happy than he was? He shook his head, angry with himself. Troubles were there to be overcome.

  He was early at the surgery as usual. He walked to the staff lounge. The door was open and there was Nick, his father, talking cheerfully to Kate Althorp, a midwife at the practice. It wasn’t like his father to look so relaxed. His head was bent low over some papers on the table and Kate’s head was close to his. The two were laughing at something.

  Just a bit odd, Ed thought. There seemed to be a togetherness there that he hadn’t noticed before. Then he decided he was imagining things.

  They hadn’t heard him arrive so for a minute Ed stood and looked at them. His father was a tall, lean, imposing figure, made more imposing by his habitual reserve. He tended to command instant respect—but not instant love. Ed had seen little of his father in recent years, and had never really been close to him. As a man he was hard to get through to. But Ed was trying. The trouble was, they were both reserved men.

  He coughed, feeling almost like an intruder. Both looked up and smiled. Kate’s was the friendly warm smile that made everyone take to her. His father’s smile was, well, genuine, but cautious.

  ‘You’re early, aren’t you?’ Nick asked. ‘And I thought you didn’t have surgery this morning.’

  ‘I don’t. I’m going up to Clintons’ farm. I want to see Isaac Clinton and I called in to check through his notes.’

  His father was interested. ‘Are there problems?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s anything too serious—not yet. His daughter phoned last night, and asked me to call some time today. She thought her father might have had another angina attack in the afternoon, but she persuaded him to lie down and it passed.’

  Kate collected the papers on the table and stuffed them into her briefcase. ‘I think we’ve finished here, Nick, and I’ve got things to do. I’ll leave you two to talk business. Bye, Ed.’ Another happy smile and she was gone.

  Nick looked after her for a while. Ed wondered what he was thinking. It was not like his father to be pensive so early in the morning. But then Nick shook himself and said, ‘Isaac Clinton is an awkward old so-and-so. He thinks that farm will fall to bits if he isn’t always on the lookout. And he’s got a great farm manager in Ellie, that daughter of his. Would you like me to—’

  ‘My patient,’ Ed interrupted. ‘There’s no need for you to bother. I’ll talk some sense into him. I promise you, if I need help I’ll ask for it.’

  ‘Of course, of course. I’ve got every confidence in you. You know before his heart attack Isaac had a history of injuries? I spent no end of time up there sewing him together. He just wasn’t safe anywhere near farm machinery. Good farmer, though.’

  ‘I’ve looked through his notes,’ Ed said with a grin. ‘If he’d got that many injuries in the army, he’d have had a dozen medals by now.’

  His father smiled back. ‘And I’ll bet when you first met him he told you about every injury?’

  ‘In great detail.’

  Conversation between them was easier now they were discussing medicine, but it had always been like this. They avoided talking about feelings and there was seldom any obvious show of affection. Personal relationships, especially with those they loved, just weren’t their best point. Even though they both tried. Ed suspected that the feelings were there, they were just never shown. He felt it was a pity.

  He drove high onto the moors, enjoying the sunshine. But the air was still close; there was an unpleasant stickiness to it. He knew that some time soon there’d be a storm. Everyone in Penhally kept an
eye on the weather.

  Clintons’ farm was well kept. Ed drove into the farmyard and was met at the farmhouse front door by Ellie Clinton. She must have been looking out for him. She smiled, a smile of welcome rather than relief—obviously she was not too worried about her father. Ed had met her several times before. Even though she was the farm manager, she always seemed to be around when he called to see Isaac.

  ‘Dr Tremayne, it’s good to see you. You must be warm—can I get you a glass of lemonade? I made it myself. Or tea or coffee?’

  ‘Nothing, thanks. How is your father?’

  Ellie stood back from the door, waving him inside. ‘Well, you know. He’s as awkward as ever. Yesterday I caught him loading stones into a cart, he looked dreadful. After an argument I got him to go to bed. And I phoned you. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some lemonade?’

  He knew it was probably the wrong thing to do. He wanted the relationship with Ellie to remain strictly doctorpatient, not hostess-guest. But it was hot and she obviously wanted him to try some. ‘Perhaps a small glass,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Ellie.’

  He was a guest now so he had to sit down to drink his lemonade and make conversation. He looked at Ellie. She was definitely very attractive, dressed today in a sleeveless, rather low-cut blue dress. She was wearing more obvious lipstick, her hair freshly washed and gleaming. A bit different from the usual farmer’s boots, jeans and T-shirt. ‘Going out somewhere?’ he asked.

  She did a little pirouette, the skirt swirling round her calves. ‘Do you like the dress? It was such a lovely day, and I had to wait in for you, so I thought I’d try it on. It’s new, I bought it for the hospital benefit ball. It’s next Saturday. You know, St Piran Hospital. You are going, aren’t you?’

  Ed frowned. ‘Somebody mentioned something about it at the surgery. I think quite a few of them are going but I’m not.’

  ‘But you must! It’s a very good cause, they’re trying to buy a new scanner. And if the doctors can’t support it, well, that’s a pity.’

 

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