by Anne Fraser
Tiggy dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I can’t bear to think of them hurt.’
Nick reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. ‘Most soldiers make it home, Tiggy,’ he said. ‘You have to hold on to that.’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He took her by the arm and steered her across the dusty strip of land in front of the hospital. ‘Let’s walk.’
‘I’m not sure I can after this morning,’ she said. Nevertheless, she allowed him to lead her across to the far side of the camp. A gentle breeze stirred the dust of the camp, cooling the intense night air. Above them a thousand stars studded the crystal clear sky. How could a place so beautiful hold so much heartache? When they reached a flat rock, Nick indicated with a nod of his head that they should sit. For a while they remained silent. Eventually Nick turned to her and grinned.
‘So, Tiggy, the last I recall we were up to when you were thirteen. Why don’t you tell me the rest?’
* * *
Later that week Tiggy was sitting outside her tent, drinking coffee with Sue. Across the camp men, most stripped to their combat trousers, were playing football or working out. Thankfully there had been no more life-threatening injuries to deal with. Dave had been transferred to the military hospital in Birmingham.
As a bare-chested soldier jogged past them, Sue grinned.
‘You see? It’s not all bad out here. Where else would you get the chance to ogle so many fit guys?’
‘I can almost see the testosterone,’ Tiggy admitted. Her eyes drifted over to Nick, who was pulling himself up on a bar suspended between two walls. He too was stripped to his combat trousers and the muscles in his naked back bunched every time he raised himself. Some soldiers sat in a circle, counting off every time he pulled himself up.
Sue followed the line of her gaze. ‘As I said, forget him. He might be a hero but he’s a woman’s worst nightmare. As soon as he gets the girl he’s been chasing, he loses interest. There’s hardly a female on the camp—or off it for that matter—who hasn’t had her heart broken by him.’
‘You don’t have to worry on that score. Nick might be a fine doctor, but his type has never appealed to me.’
Sue groaned. ‘Don’t say that! If he sees you’re not interested, that will only make him worse.’
‘I doubt I’m any more his type than he is mine, so you can rest easy.’
Sue eyed her speculatively. ‘I would say you’re just his type.’ She drained her coffee mug.
Something Sue had said was niggling at the back of Tiggy’s mind. ‘Hey, before you go, what do you mean about Nick being a hero?’
Sue hesitated before sitting back down. ‘Well, I guess I should tell you, although I’m surprised you haven’t heard the story already.’ Sue looked across at Nick. ‘It was last year. Nick was out on an op with the men. They were making sure that a deserted village wasn’t being used as a base for insurgents. It was a joint op with the Americans.
‘Anyway, they got to the place—they call it a sangar—where they were going to base themselves for the couple of weeks they expected the mission to last when fighting broke out. To cut a long story short, Nick left the safety of the sangar and, despite being fired on, ran to the aid of an injured man who had been dragged into one of the houses.’
‘Good God!’ Tiggy glanced across at Nick with new respect. So he wasn’t just a playboy? Of course she already knew he was a great doctor but this latest revelation was making her assess him all over again.
Sue half smiled. ‘That wasn’t the end of it, though. While he was treating the American, one of his fellow soldiers came looking for him and took shrapnel to his upper thigh—straight into his femoral artery.’
Tiggy knew what that meant. The soldier wouldn’t have stood a chance so far away from a proper medical facility.
‘Poor sod.’
Sue rolled her empty mug between her hands. ‘That’s just it. He made it. And all because of Nick. Incredibly, Nick managed, while under fire and with the enemy practically at the door, to clamp off the artery. Thankfully he’d called in the medevac ’copter and God knows how but they managed to land close enough to get Nick and the injured man on board. Nick kept him alive until they made it back to camp. You can imagine how slim the soldier’s chances of survival were—never mind keeping his leg—but Nick refused to give up. Somehow, he and the rest of the team were able to save the soldier’s life and also salvage his leg.
‘Since that day he’s become a bit of a hero around here—and, believe me, there are no shortage of heroes in a place like this—as well as a talisman. The men believe that as long as Nick is with them, or as long as he’s here on camp, they’ll be all right. Sometimes I think they’ve invested him with supernatural powers.’
Perhaps that went some way to explaining Nick’s arrogance, the air of total confidence surrounding him like an aura. She only hoped to hell there would be someone like him around if ever her brothers needed help.
‘I had no idea,’ Tiggy said softly.
‘It’s not something he goes around telling people.’ Sue glanced at her watch. ‘Time to get to bed.’ When she looked back at Tiggy, her eyes were bleak. ‘He might be a hero to the men but I think it’s also a burden. Nick isn’t a miracle-worker. He’s human. I sometimes wonder if he hasn’t started to believe his own legend.’
‘And what’s that?’ Tiggy asked, rising too.
‘Believing he’s indestructible. And that as long as he’s here, he can save everyone who has a chance.’
Tiggy’s eyes strayed back to Nick. He had finished showing off and had picked up a towel and was wiping the sweat from his chest. Some six-pack, Tiggy thought distractedly. At that moment he looked up, and catching her staring at him, winked.
Tiggy blushed.
‘Oh, dear,’ Sue said. She picked up her mug again. ‘Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. See you at six.’
CHAPTER THREE
Nine years later
TIGGY RAN DOWN the hospital corridor with her heart in her mouth. A woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair flattened herself against the wall to make room for her to pass while a doctor, talking into her mobile phone, looked at her with sympathy.
Had a corridor ever seemed so long? Would she make it in time? What if his condition had deteriorated while she’d been on her way? What if he died before she had a chance to see him? A sob caught in her throat.
She skidded to a halt in front of the triage desk. Damn, damn, damn, there was a queue. She spun around, wondering whether she should risk slipping into Resus uninvited, but just then a doctor spotted her and came over.
‘Mrs Casey?’ he asked. ‘I’m Dr Luke Blackman. It was me who called you.’ She had already guessed that as soon as he’d started to speak. She recognised his voice straight away.
Today had started like any other day. She’d been off duty when the phone had rung. At first the American accent on the other end of the line had thrown her. Then, when the male voice had identified himself as a doctor from the Royal London, her first panicked thought had been that something had happened to Alan, who was still flying Apaches in Afghanistan. But it was Nick he was calling about. Nick had been brought into the hospital with a head wound and was asking for her.
Without waiting to hear any more, she’d dropped the phone and bolted for her car.
She searched Dr Blackman’s face, trying to read his expression for clues, but his calm exterior gave nothing away. ‘Why don’t we go into the relatives’ room? It will give us some privacy.’
She felt sick. People were usually invited into the relatives’ room so they could be given bad news.
‘Just tell me.’ Her lips were so numb she could barely articulate the words. ‘Is he dead?’
‘Dead?’ Dr Blackman’s mouth relaxed into a smile. ‘No the lieutenant colonel is very much alive. He was drifting in and out of consciousness for a while but he’s going to be just fine.’
Relief buckled her knees. St
ill, she had to see Nick for herself.
‘Take me to him,’ she said.
‘I think we should talk first.’
Tiggy straightened to her full five feet five. Whatever Dr Blackman had to tell her could wait. ‘Please, Doctor, I need to see him. Now.’
The doctor clearly realised she was in no mood to be thwarted. ‘Very well. If you’ll follow me?’
Nick was lying on his bed, as still and as white as a corpse. His head was bandaged and there was a dark bruise on his left cheekbone only partly hidden by the stubble of his unshaven face.
But it was still Nick. Her husband. The man she hadn’t seen for six years.
* * *
Nick’s head was filled with images. Bombs were exploding, helicopter blades whirled incessantly, scattering dust everywhere. There was blood, so much blood, and soldiers and civilians running in panic. Then someone was sticking something into his arm.
Slowly the nightmare scenes began to fade and a strange sense of calm filled him as Tiggy’s face appeared before him; her blue eyes were wide, her red hair a sharp contrast to the paleness of her skin. The vision shifted and he was holding her, kissing her——she was in his bed, in his arms, laughing up at him, giggling at something he’d said.
He liked it when he dreamt of her.
‘I’m here, Nick,’ he heard her saying in that quiet, determined way she had. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’ Her voice was like cool rain on a hot night. Even in his nightmares the memory of her voice, her touch, always soothed him. It was when he was awake that the memory of her tormented him.
‘Can you hear me, Nick?’ a different voice said. An American, by the sound of him.
‘Come on, Nick. You need to open your eyes.’ It was Tiggy speaking again. Much better. He far preferred her voice to the American’s. But he was damned if he was going to wake up. The dream was so much better.
‘Nick, for God’s sake, say something!’
If he hadn’t known he was dreaming, he would have sworn it was Tiggy. But that was impossible. Tiggy was lost to him. Well and truly lost, as he was damn well going to tell that nagging voice.
He shifted slightly, trying to force his limbs to move. God, his body was aching. It was as if he’d been driven over by a Humvee. But he hadn’t been run over by a military vehicle or anything else. He hadn’t been in Afghanistan. He’d been in London. Other fragmented memories flooded back. The last thing he remembered was that he had been walking down a street. Which one he couldn’t for the life of him recall. A man had been on the ground. Someone had been kicking him. He’d moved in to stop the fight. He’d taken a blow to his stomach, but not before he’d landed one of his own. After that? Nothing. Except an exploding pain in his head.
Using every ounce of willpower he could muster, he reluctantly opened his eyes.
He had to be still dreaming. Tiggy was bending over him, her beautiful eyes awash with tears. It couldn’t be her. Not after all this time, and not after what he’d put her through. He closed his eyes again. Now, if only he could get back to the dream where she was lying in his arms, laughing up at him. He didn’t like Tiggy being sad.
But damn. He was awake now. He opened one eye. The image of Tiggy was still there. He closed his eyes and opened them again. No, it was no hallucination. No dream. It was her.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he growled.
* * *
Tiggy reeled as if she’d been slapped. But what had she expected? That Nick would be pleased to see her? Considering the way they’d parted, it was as likely as a snowstorm in the desert. Yet when he’d first opened his eyes she could have sworn it had been hunger—and pleasure—she’d read in their brown depths. She had been wrong.
At least he wasn’t dead. In fact, as Dr Blackman had said, he was very much alive.
She looked at Dr Blackman and raised her eyebrows.
‘Lieutenant Colonel—Nick—this is your wife. You were asking for her. I found her details on your records and called her.’
‘Not possible. Not married.’
Tiggy’s throat tightened. Now she knew he was in one piece, she felt all her old anger resurface. She turned to the bemused-looking doctor.
‘I should tell you that Nick and I are separated, and have been for six years.’ Six long years, where every day at first had been a fight to get through it without him. And now, just when she’d thought he was out of her head and her heart, here he was, and, even unshaven and with his bruised cheek he still made her pulse leap.
God damn it.
Nick’s hand snaked out from under the sheets and grabbed Dr Blackman by the arm. ‘Who the hell gave you the right to call my ex-wife?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that whatever he said, or wanted to believe, she wasn’t actually his ex-wife. Although she’d always intended to, she’d never quite got around to signing the divorce papers. And neither had he. Clearly he hadn’t removed her as his next of kin either.
‘You were asking for a Tiggy when you came in. It was the same name listed on your record as next of kin. Of course we contacted her,’ Dr Blackman replied, looking baffled.
Tiggy couldn’t blame him. His patient had been calling out for a woman who was listed as his wife, yet the patient obviously couldn’t bear the sight of her.
‘I don’t care if her name is up somewhere in lights. Get her the hell out of here.’
Tiggy’s throat tightened. ‘Don’t worry, Nick, you don’t have to ask me twice. I’m going.’
She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
She heard Dr Blackman tell Nick he’d be back to see him shortly then the doctor was by her side.
‘Mrs Casey, don’t take his reaction too much to heart. The head injury is probably making him confused and irritable. I wouldn’t put too much store in what he’s saying now.’
She smiled tightly. ‘Trust me, he’s not confused. He knows exactly what he’s saying. I shouldn’t have come.’ She glanced over towards the exit. She needed to get out of there.
‘Look, I can see you’re upset. Come into the staffroom. We can talk there.’
‘Really, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Find someone else.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘I’m sure Nick has some woman in his life you should call. Why don’t you ask him?’
‘Please, Mrs Casey. It won’t take long.’
Tiggy hesitated before nodding. Of course she couldn’t leave. Not without knowing for certain he wasn’t in any danger.
The thought almost made her laugh out loud. For years she’d been terrified something would happen to Nick in Afghanistan, and he’d had to come back to the UK for her worst fears to come true.
‘What happened?’ she asked when they were both seated.
‘He was brought into A and E a few hours ago. There was a bit of a...’ Dr Blackman looked as if he was struggling to find the right words ‘...er...scuffle. At the moment my main concern is with the injury to his head. I’ve scheduled him for a scan.’ He leaned forward, his eyes curious. ‘We’ll know more once we have the results of all his tests.’
‘What was he doing in a fight anyway?’ she asked. Nick had always been impulsive and his behaviour had become increasingly erratic towards the end of their marriage, but a fight in the street? That didn’t fit with what she knew of Nick. Had he been drinking? In the past he’d hardly touched alcohol. But a person could change in six years. If she wanted any evidence of that, all she had to do was remember how much he’d changed in the three years they had been married.
Dr Blackman looked at her and smiled. ‘I understand that LC Casey was breaking up a fight. Some thugs had a young man on the ground and were kicking him. LC Casey intervened.’ His smile grew wider. ‘He always was a hero.’
‘You know Nick, Dr Blackman?’
‘Please, call me Luke. Not really. We met ten years ago. I was with the forces back then. I’ve never forgotten him.’
She half smiled. Nick wasn’t exactly forgettable. She
of all people knew that.
Luke’s pager bleeped and he paused to look at it. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll contact you again when we have the results of the scan.’
As he rose, she stumbled to her feet and held out her hand, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. ‘Thanks for calling me. Take good care of him.’
* * *
Nick gritted his teeth and, as instructed, squeezed Dr Blackman’s hand as hard as he could.
Damn the doctor for contacting Tiggy. But he couldn’t really blame him. He should have removed her as his next of kin years ago. The problem was there hadn’t been anyone else to put down. But was that the only reason? Or was it that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to sever his last ties with her, no matter how much he knew it was the right thing to do?
‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’ The doctor took out his ophthalmoscope. ‘I’m going to look in your eyes.’
‘Should I?’ Nick muttered. Why had Tiggy come anyway? Knowing her, it would be out of some misplaced sense of duty. He didn’t want, or need, her sympathy.
‘We met ten years ago. In Afghanistan. You saved my life.’ Dr Blackman shone his light in Nick’s left eye. ‘I was a soldier with the US Army back then.’
Immediately Nick was transported back to the deserted house and the soldier with the pumping femoral artery. He’d thought there was something familiar about the A and E doctor, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that he was the same man he’d treated all those years ago.
‘Good God! What are you doing here?’
The American straightened and flicked through Nick’s notes. ‘Didn’t think I would end up a doctor?’ He grinned. ‘It’s down to you that I am. Coming face to face with death is enough to make any man re-evaluate where he’s going with his life.’
Nick remembered the scars on his chest, the tattoo. Not a man he would have ever expected to find in a hospital, let alone treating him.
‘I owe it to you. Back then, well, let’s just say I was set on a course to hell. As soon as I recovered I left the army and went to medical school. I’m here on an exchange fellowship.’