From somewhere there was the ringing of a mobile phone. A harsh, loud, insistent ring, the kind of ring that a doctor’s phone might have. And Luc moved away from her, took the phone from his pocket and answered. She could sense his regret.
‘Yes, Marie…I could…Why don’t people give us some warning?’ Then Kelly heard has voice soften. ‘Of course I will. We know these things happen…Say a couple hours, then? Fine.’ He put the phone back in his pocket.
He turned to Kelly, his expression half sad, half resigned. ‘If you’re a doctor in the countryside, these thing happen. That was the midwife, Marie Rimbaud. She’s just this minute delivered one baby and had a phone call to say that another seems to be due—about three weeks premature. Marie can be there in a couple of hours but until then she asked me to fill in?
‘Kelly, right now leaving you is the last thing I want but—’
‘But you must,’ Kelly said briskly. ‘Right, I understand. Can I come with you? Perhaps I could help.’
He looked surprised. ‘You want to come with me? Why?’
‘I’ve not had much experience of births in the army—a couple of emergency ones in wrecked buildings—but I think it might be good if I got some more experience.’
‘Right. Let’s go. The farmhouse is about half an hour away.’ He shook his head. ‘Home births are fine—until something goes wrong—like now.’
‘In medicine you can never plan for everything.’
As they drove off in his car she had to admit to herself that she didn’t just want to help. She wanted to stay with Luc. She remembered the old army maxim. Never volunteer. Well, she wasn’t in the army now.
They drove into the yard of a large and prosperous farmhouse, were ushered inside at once. There was a ground-floor room with a bathroom adjoining, obviously carefully prepared for a home birth.
Cecile was a primigravida. So far all had gone well with her pregnancy, she had been carefully looked after, had followed all instructions exactly. Then she had slipped. Fallen onto the arm of a chair and at first had thought that all was well. However, she had gone to bed, just in case—and then…‘I felt all damp. Dr Laforge, the waters have broken, I’ve started contractions and I’m not ready yet!’
Luc’s voice was kind. ‘Babies come in their own time, Cecile. There’s no need to worry. Marie will be here shortly, and until then you’ll have two doctors. This is another member of our surgery, Dr Blackwood. Now, shall we begin?’
He placed a hand on Cecile’s abdomen, looked at his watch. ‘Contractions only five minutes apart. Somebody wants to be born quickly.’
Marie had brought all the necessary sealed packages and boxes, Luc and Kelly prepared everything that might be needed. They put on the scrubs that Marie had thoughtfully left. Then baseline observations. Luc asked Kelly to check and record temperature, blood pressure, pulse and respiration rate. Then he took the Pinard’s stethoscope, placed it on Cecile’s abdomen and listened to the baby’s heart. After a moment he passed the stethoscope to Kelly for her to listen. ‘A good healthy heartbeat,’ Kelly said. ‘Cecile, you’re going to have a fine strong baby.’
Luc performed the internal examination. ‘Head at plus two,’ he reported.
There was gas and air available, but Cecile appeared to not need it. She had practised her relaxation exercises, seemed to be more in control than most mothers-to-be.
After half an hour her husband arrived. He had been on a business trip in Rouen, the family had phoned him. And now he seemed more excited, more concerned, more stressed than the mother-to-be. ‘Cecile, are you all right? Are you in pain? Can we get you anything?’
‘Guillaume, I am fine! Now, stop worrying!’
While Guillaume was bending over his wife, Kelly saw Luc wink at her, and nod towards the door. She understood at once. ‘Guillaume, do you have a minute? We have to check on a couple of things.’
She took Guillaume outside, told him that Cecile needed to rest now and he could do her most good by having a cup of coffee and waiting outside until they called him. ‘You will be there for her for the birth. That is vital. But for now be calm.’
No birth could have been simpler. Guillaume was called in. Kelly kept a special eye on him in case he fainted. Luc delivered the baby, handed a perfect little boy to Kelly who wrapped him, and put him onto his mother’s breast. Guillaume shook a little, but didn’t faint.
Kelly felt that sense of excitement and achievement that midwives spoke of. She glanced at Luc, who obviously felt the same way. Something had happened that they had both shared.
But there were still things to do.
‘Shall I take over now?’ a voice asked. Marie had arrived.
A job well done but now they weren’t needed. Luc was driving her home. Nervously, Kelly said, ‘If there isn’t anywhere you have to go to, perhaps you’d like to stay for tea. I can cook some—’
His phone rang. Again? Luc had connected his hands-free earpiece and microphone, and answered at once. ‘Dr Laforge.’ Kelly heard a babble from the earpiece, obviously someone very upset. Eventually Luc said, ‘I see…It happened when? No, we can’t wait till he gets to hospital, he probably needs an injection at once…Yes, I know I’m not on duty…Yes, of course.’
He clicked off the phone, looked at her. ‘Another emergency,’ he said. ‘But of a different kind. Jean-Paul Lartigue is eighty-four, he has had yet another cardiac episode. I must go.’
‘I know. I’m a doctor too, remember.’
‘I can drop you off at home first.’
He drove her home, stepped inside her front door, took her hands in his and looked at her. She knew what he was thinking, she felt the same way. They were both wondered what would come next. And perhaps there was a touch of relief. Too much was happening too soon. He released her hands, bent over her, took her head in his hands and kissed her quickly, but so deeply that it left her senses reeling. ‘If there is time, may I come back?’ he asked.
‘I’d like that.’
Then he was gone.
She had left the tea dishes out on the terrace. Kelly mechanically cleared them away, washed everything, put it in its place. She had kept a few scones back wrapped in a packet, which she had intended to give to Luc as he left. Too late now. Or was it?
He had said that he would be back. Was that what she wanted? Or a different question—was that what would be good for her? She didn’t know. When she had come to the cottage she had decided, at least for a while, to lead a calm existence. She would practise simple medicine, have a quiet social life, avoid any violent emotional experiences. After three months she would find a job more fitting to her training and character. She blinked. Not doing too well so far.
She had invited Luc back. Why? And when he had kissed her she had—to be brutally honest—loved it. And at the same time felt amazed at herself.
So what was she to do? The memory of Gary’s letter came back to her—no way did she need that kind of experience again! She was off men. Should she welcome Luc back, or should she tell him that it had all been an unfortunate mistake, that it would be better if he didn’t call again? She knew enough of the man to know that he would accept this without question—even if it hurt him.
She decided to do nothing. Not to do nothing because she didn’t dare to make up her mind but because she was curious about what her options were. She had kissed Luc. She had enjoyed it. Now what?
She waited. When it was time she made herself a simple tea, fish and salad, and put enough in the fridge so that if Luc came and wanted to join her there would be no trouble. But he didn’t come. Instead, there was a phone call.
His voice was formal. ‘Madame Blackman? Dr Laforge here. We had an arrangement. I had intended to call on you later because there are things we have to discuss. But I’m afraid that I have an emergency case here. I doubt that I’ll be able to get away for quite some time.’
‘That’s quite all right, Doctor, I do understand. Phone me when you have time and we’ll arrange an appoi
ntment.’
‘Of course. I am so sorry.’ He rang off.
For a moment she was upset. He could have put a little more warmth in his voice. But then she realised. There was probably someone within earshot. This had been a perfect doctor/doctor conversation. Disappointed—but not too much—she wondered when he would call again.
He didn’t call again that evening. Then she remembered where he had gone, to see old Jean-Paul Lartigue, who had suffered yet another cardiac episode. Another cardiac episode? Not good. She wondered if Jean-Paul had been too ill to be moved—if Luc was with him even now. She seemed to have gathered that French doctors managed to spend more time at home with their patients than English doctors did.
She had taken up the local French habit of retiring very early and rising very early too. So at ten o’clock she had bathed, put on her nightie and was sitting downstairs in her dressing-gown, having a last ten-minute read.
And her mobile phone rang. That was unusual! A phone call at this time of night. ‘Yes?’ she answered cautiously.
‘Dr Blackman…What am I saying? Kelly, this is Luc. I hope I didn’t wake you?’
She paused a moment, thought, and then said deliberately, ‘I’m still up, and will be for a little while longer. Did you have a difficult case?’
‘Jean-Paul Lartigue. He died, I was with him. He was once a soldier you know, fought in the Second World War. He asked me if I’d arrange for him to be buried in his uniform.’
‘I’m so sorry. You sound upset. Was he a friend?’
‘We are doctors, we are used to death. But I was brought up to respect Jean-Paul. He was a war hero. He liked me as his doctor because I too had been a soldier.’
‘I take it that that means that you are a little upset. So if you have time, would you like to come round for a nightcap? Just a quick one?’
Then she shivered. What had she just said?
‘I would like that,’ he said slowly, ‘but are you sure that I would not be disturbing you?’
Now, that was a foolish question. Of course he would disturb her. But still…‘Not at all,’ she lied.
‘Then I shall be there in exactly five minutes. I can see your windows from where I am parked.’
Why was he so close? she wondered.
Luc sat in his car, stared at the light from the windows of the white-painted cottage a hundred yards away. He had been there for quite some time, wondering, trying to decide what to do. Decide what to do about Dr Kelly Blackman.
Three years ago he had thought he would never fall for another woman. He had been through a painful divorce. Not a difficult divorce, his then wife had been only too pleased to see the back of him. But the divorce had hurt him, he had thought himself genuinely in love, he had tried to make the marriage work. His efforts had been scorned, and it had left him feeling a fool.
So a decision. He would never trust himself to another woman. They just weren’t worth the effort. There had been a couple of brief affairs, but both sides had known that they weren’t going to last. And Luc had found them ultimately unsatisfying. He had broken both off before anyone had got hurt.
And now, what about Kelly? He had kissed her, she had kissed him back. And both of them had been half happy, half shocked. It had been unplanned, unexpected. But it had been so good. What now?
First, he knew that a mere transitory affair would be no good at all. Not that she would embark upon one, he could sense that. Besides, they had to work together, and to have any kind of affair with a colleague—with someone with whom he would have to work most days—would be the last word in stupidity. No, the sensible thing to do would be to treat Kelly as a colleague and perhaps a friend, but no more.
But…she attracted him. He would put it no stronger than that. She attracted him. He liked the way she looked, the way she walked, the way she talked. He also was impressed by her medical skills. He didn’t want just to be friends.
They had only known each other for two days. Nothing had been decided, nothing had been said. They could still finish up just as friends.
He smiled sadly as he started the car engine. Who was he trying to kid?
CHAPTER FOUR
HE WAS going to be here in exactly five minutes? She stood, a quick check in the mirror. Her face would have to remain make-up-less, but, then, it usually did. Time for a quick brush through her hair, make it as presentable as it usually was. Her nightie and dressing-gown were a bit of a problem—both were summer wear, both were light silk, they clung and were even a touch transparent. Well, that was too bad. She wasn’t going to get dressed now. Still, a thrill ran through her. What would Luc think—feel—when he saw her like this?
Then the sensible Kelly took over. She ran upstairs, pulled on a pair of sensible white knickers. Just in case.
She was ready. There was a knock at the door. She was excited, a bit nervous. What if he thought that she was inviting him to…? After all, he was French. No, that was a foolish stereotype…and she knew him better than that. She opened the door.
‘Kelly, I must apologise for calling so late. Perhaps I had better not come in? I would quite understand if you—’
‘Luc, please come in. I invited you because I wanted you to come.’
In his eyes she had seen the flash of appreciation when he had first seen her. But now as he stepped inside she saw his expression more clearly. There was fatigue, sadness. She felt for him.
She ushered him into her living room, indicated he was to sit in one of the two comfortable armchairs. She sat opposite him, knees firmly pressed together. Then, with a slightly teasing smile, she asked, ‘How long have you been waiting outside my house?’
‘Perhaps twenty minute,’ he confessed. ‘I did so want to call but I did not want to be…intrusive?’
‘No problem. When I was in medical school there were friends in and out of my room at all hours, day or night, male or female.’
‘But that was not so in the army?’
‘No,’ said Kelly, with a shudder at the very thought. ‘Now, what can I get you to drink? I have tea, coffee, wine, spirits. No beer, I’m afraid.’
‘What are you having?’
Well, better own up to it. ‘Don’t laugh. I have a mug of milky cocoa with a shot of brandy in it. Cocoa and brandy makes me sleep and it’s better than drugs.’
He managed to keep a straight face. ‘It is a drink I have never heard of anyone in France drinking. But I would like to try it. I will not go to sleep at once?’
‘You’ll stay awake long enough to drive home. Just.’
She went into her kitchen, put the milk on to boil, buttered him another Blackman family scone. She was excited but curious. Where was she going with Luc? Was she heading for another emotional mess? Would it be better if she dropped all contact with Luc as soon as possible? She couldn’t go through that emotional turmoil again!
She shrugged. What was to be would be. She took a loaded tray back into the living room.
Obviously he was not the happy, contained man he had been earlier in the day. ‘You’re thinking of Monsieur Lartigue, aren’t you?’ she asked gently.
‘I am. He had a good life and died happily at home. But he was part of my upbringing. He made me proud to be a soldier.’
Luc looked up then, and his smile was brilliant. ‘But now life must move on. I am having supper with a most attractive woman, and if Jean-Paul could see us, then I am sure that he would approve.’
‘Quite,’ said Kelly. It was a useful word, it meant nothing, it neither approved nor disapproved. But she did like being referred to as a most attractive woman.
‘Luc, you just referred to your upbringing. I know so little about you. But you know things about me that I have kept secret from most of the world. I do know that you don’t like Englishwomen. That’s not much of a beginning for a…for a friendship.’ She decided that ‘friendship’ was the right word. For now.
He laughed. ‘It’s only one Englishwoman that I really don’t like. Or perhaps one Englis
hwoman and her family. And perhaps they prejudiced me. But now I think I must revise my opinion.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Your upbringing?’
‘You shall know all that you wish to know. Why don’t you come to tea at my home tomorrow afternoon? I have lived there all my life. That will tell you so much about me. And I will answer all your questions.’
‘I’d really like that,’ she said. But she wondered. Had there been a flash of apprehension on his face? Was he already regretting the invitation? Whatever, she was going. Then she decided she had imagined it.
She followed him to the door when he was leaving a little later.
‘So I will call for you about three tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘I’d like that.’ She opened the door. But he didn’t step outside. Instead, he pushed it closed again. Then he took her in his arms, kissed her. His kiss was gentle, like the last one. His arms were loose round her, his kiss not intrusive. She could escape any moment she wanted. But she didn’t want. She wanted to stay here for ever, to make more of the way their bodies seemed to fit so well together, more of the way his hands caressed her back, more of the way his tongue had probed so delicately that she…
He broke away from her. ‘Until tomorrow, then,’ he gasped. ‘Kelly, I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to kiss you again. But I did and I’m pleased I did.’ And then he was gone.
I feel pleased too, Kelly thought. How strange.
Next morning Kelly took the early bus to Estaville—the nearest large town—to buy another dress. If she was going to visit Luc’s home then she wanted to look, well, smart. But she also wanted him to see that she had more than one dress. When she had first come to Riom she had not expected to have much of a social life and had packed accordingly.
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