The Country Doctor's Daughter

by Gill Sanderson

  And now, instead of just one dress, she had four. And she’d thoroughly enjoyed her shopping expedition. Not that it had anything to do with Luc, but she’d bought new underwear too. And just a little more make-up.

  Luc had said that he would arrive again at three. So at one she started to try on the new dresses she had bought that morning. Things didn’t look the same in her own bedroom as they had in the shops in Estaville.

  She wasn’t sure of the impression she wanted to make on Luc. Perhaps things had happened a little too quickly the day before. But, still, she had spent a fair amount of time and money that morning. She might as well make the most of it.

  The lemon dress set off her tan. The line was flattering, it emphasised her slim waist but perhaps the full skirt was a little too long, she ought to take up the hem. The blue dress she had chosen for the softness of the fine cotton fabric, it would be cool on hot summer days. And the low neckline was flattering. The third one was really something. Apparently white, when she turned it shimmered with a variety of rainbow colours that mixed and flowed. She spent some minutes in front of the mirror, pirouetting and admiring herself. Then she sighed, reminding herself that the invitation was for afternoon tea. This was a dress for an evening out in an expensive restaurant. Admit it. She would be overdressed.

  So it was the lemon dress. She rummaged in her suitcase, found needle and thread.

  At two o’clock she ran a bath, adding some luxurious bath essence. Afterwards she put on her new cream underwear and surveyed herself. The lacy scraps of silk were unlike anything she had chosen before but she liked them. She slipped into the lemon dress. Look good from the inside out.

  At twenty to three she sat down to wait. Be calm, be self-possessed. And at five to three she leaped to her feet—she had forgotten the box of scones she had intended to give him yesterday. Of course, he knocked just as she was scrabbling with the wrapping paper.

  As ever, he was punctual and he looked as gorgeous as usual. When he smiled at her there was the usual fast thudding of her heart. Would this always happen when she saw him? Would he ever become just another ordinary man? She didn’t know—but she didn’t think so.

  He was wearing another light jacket, this time his shirt was a cream colour. Almost the shade of her…She blushed as she remembered.

  ‘You look ravishing,’ he said. ‘Please don’t take that as part of a Frenchman’s normal approach to an attractive woman. I really do mean it. Is that a new dress?’

  ‘It is! How did you guess?’

  He pursed his lips. ‘Well, when a woman wears a new dress for the first time isn’t there a feeling of mixed excitement and apprehension? Does the dress flatter me? Will he like it?’

  She felt vulnerable. ‘Are you saying that that’s how I am feeling now? Does it show?’

  ‘Of course.’ He laughed teasingly. ‘That and the fact that you told me yesterday that you were wearing the only dress you had brought with you.’

  ‘Luc Laforge! That’s not fair! Leading a poor girl on.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said with a grin that said he was not in the least sorry. ‘Now, shall we go?’

  She took the parcel that she had been holding behind her, handed it to him. ‘This time a gift from me. To show that I forgive you. A few of my mother’s recipe scones. I meant to give them to you last night but I forgot.’

  ‘These are most welcome,’ he said. ‘Tonight, for supper. But shall we go?’

  She wondered exactly what she was going to.

  He walked her round to the passenger side of his car, opened the door for her, made sure that her seat belt was fastened. Then they were off, quickly out of the village.

  She liked the Breton countryside. There was the abundance of wild flowers, the odd shapes of the rocks that broke the surface of the fields, the twisted trees that had to fight against the harsh winter winds. It was a mysterious landscape. And there weren’t too many people about, that was good too. Luc noticed the way she was staring out of the window, so drove slowly. That was thoughtful of him.

  In time they turned off the road, passed a stone gatehouse and drove down a tree-shaded drive. They turned again—and she gasped. There was a tiny fairy-tale castle. Well, a French chateau, really. In the front were gardens bright with red gardenias. A circle of gravel where cars could park. And the chateau itself was in dark cream stone and there were towers, and turrets and pointed windows—it was a dream.

  ‘This is your home? Luc, it is beautiful!’

  ‘It has been in my family for generations. There have been times when I have wanted to give it up, to move into something more modern, more manageable. But I can’t. This place doesn’t just belong to me, it belongs to the generations to come. Now come and look inside.’

  Inside was just as wonderful—but different. A stone-floored hall with a rich red carpet on it. The room wasn’t over-grand, it was too small for that. It seemed to be a family home. Certainly there were some oil paintings on the walls but there were also photographs of the surrounding countryside and a couple of framed advertisements for French Railways. Kelly looked round, entranced.

  She heard the click of a door opening, turned to see an old lady in black dress with a white pinafore. The lady waved at Luc to come to her. He excused himself, walked over and had a whispered conversation. Kelly carried on looking at the pictures.

  After a moment or two Luc led the lady over to Kelly, introduced her as Minette. ‘She is my housekeeper. She lives in the gatehouse, has been with my family for years.’

  ‘So pleased to meet you, Minette,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Madame,’ Minette mumbled, and bobbed a little curtsey.

  Kelly was astonished. No one had ever curtseyed to her before.

  ‘Minette is going to make us some tea,’ Luc said, and Minette scurried away.

  ‘This house is so lovely,’ Kelly said when she had gone. ‘You’re so lucky to live here.’

  ‘I do like it. Perhaps you would like to look around?’

  ‘I’d like nothing better,’ Kelly said, who had been thinking that very thing.

  ‘And later you shall. But first you wanted to know a little more about me. And what I am to show you now is…is perhaps the most important thing in my life. The reason why I am not free to do as I wish.’

  He led her down a corridor, quietly opened a door. She was shown into a room at the back of the house, once obviously a conservatory. Now wooden slats shut off most of the sun, there were just a few rays of light across the floor.

  Luc held his finger to his lips, led her across the room to a bed. In it was a sleeping child, perhaps six years old. Serious damage had been done to her left leg. Both tibia and fibula had been fractured, an external fixator kept the bones in place. It had been a comminuted fracture, the wounds on her leg were covered with a light dressing. Whatever had happened, this child had suffered.

  ‘This is my daughter, Jenny,’ Luc said. ‘As you may know from Joe, she’s been in an accident.’ He looked at Kelly thoughtfully. ‘Whatever decisions I make about my life, Jenny must come first. She has suffered more than any child should have to suffer. From now on Jenny’s happiness is all-important to me.’

  ‘You mean, if necessary, it must come before your own happiness?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I think that is wonderful.’

  The room they were sitting in was impressive. There was a large marble fireplace, antique furniture, a thick oriental-looking carpet on the floor. One wall was completely taken up by bookshelves. But it all looked comfortable, lived-in. Tall windows opened onto a view of lawns and flower-beds. Kelly had stood, admiring the books, while Minette had arranged dishes on the coffee-table. ‘Now, tell me about Jenny and her accident,’ Kelly said. Luc looked glum. ‘That means I have to talk about her mother—my ex-wife.’

  ‘It does,’ Kelly confirmed cheerfully. ‘Well, don’t forget you invited me here to get to know things about you.’

  ‘I suppose you are right.’ He stoo
d, walked across the room to a cupboard, and brought back a leather-bound album. ‘The French are as obsessed by photographs as the English,’ he said. ‘I could not bear to throw these away—and it would have been childish to cut out the bits that I would like to forget.’

  He put the album on her lap. ‘Photographs of my wife, myself and my daughter,’ he said. ‘They show something of our life together.’

  ‘No wedding photographs?’ Kelly asked, after leafing through a few pages.

  ‘I burned all the photographs of our wedding that I had.’

  Kelly winced at the bitterness in his tone.

  They were interesting photographs, mostly of Jenny growing up, from a baby to a child of about four years old.

  ‘I see all the captions are in English,’ Kelly commented.

  ‘Jenny is bilingual—and very good in both languages. But Merryl could not be bothered to learn French. As she pointed out, I spoke good English—what was the point?’

  Kelly decided not to comment. It wasn’t her place to judge.

  She was fascinated by the pictures of Merryl, who was just the opposite of herself. Kelly was glad about that. Merryl was blonde, thin, classically good looking, and in the photographs always well dressed.

  ‘Your ex-wife was very beautiful,’ Kelly ventured.

  ‘There is an English saying that I like. “Beauty is only skin deep.”’

  Kelly was rather surprised at that. She had not thought that Luc was a man who could express himself so…well, so forcibly. He must have been hurt very deeply by this woman.

  She looked through further, noting that there were fewer and fewer pictures with Luc in them. But Merryl was usually there, smiling, looking gorgeous. Then Kelly noticed something else. In all the pictures Merryl was carefully posed. There were none of the usual happy family snaps, taken at just the wrong embarrassing moment. ‘Was your wife a model?’ she asked.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘It’s the way that she always looks elegant. As if she was used to a camera.’

  Luc sighed. ‘Yes, she was a model. She didn’t need to be, she came from a rich family. A charming girl, much fun to be with, but she…Whatever she wanted she had to have. We had a lightning courtship while I was on a course in London. I brought her here before we were married, she said she loved the place. After the first winter she changed her mind. She needed to be in London with her family and friends. Especially her male friends.’

  ‘Didn’t she want to be with Jenny?’

  ‘Jenny was a fashion accessory. Otherwise Merryl spoiled her or ignored her.’

  Luc stood, walked over to the window, stared out as she had done. Kelly realised what he was doing. He did not want her to see his face. This was painful for him.

  ‘I tried as hard as I could to please Merryl but there was no pleasing her for long. So we got divorced. I kept Jenny. Merryl had visiting rights, of course, but a child would only upset Merryl’s complicated social life. Jenny and I were happy here together. We had a nurse as a nanny, Edith Lachalle, and she too was devoted to Jenny. Then two or three months ago Edith fell pregnant and there were problems. She became hypertensive and, in fact, I ordered her to stop work. I told Merryl, who said that she would take Jenny for a few days until I organised another nanny. I wasn’t very happy about it but…

  ‘Merryl came here in her new sports car, picked up Jenny. On her way back to the ferry she stopped for lunch, had too much to drink and crashed the car. Jenny—well, you have seen the state she is in. As ever, Merryl had nothing but a few scratches. But Jenny could have been killed! So now my lawyers are having her assessed as an unfit parent. Merryl doesn’t seem too bothered about it.’

  ‘Perhaps she thought that Jenny was getting as beautiful as her,’ Kelly said slyly. ‘She didn’t want the competition.’

  Luc turned and laughed. ‘Dr Blackman, you flatter like a Frenchman. I think that my daughter is beautiful but—yes, Minette?’

  Somehow, silently Minette had entered the room and obviously needed to talk to Luc. Kelly looked down at the albums in front of her, for the moment pretended to be engrossed.

  There was a whispered conversation and then Luc turned to Kelly. He looked upset. ‘There is a problem,’ he said. ‘I am not on call but I have to go out—it is a police matter, they need me to examine someone as a matter of urgency. I have agreed to do this kind of work, but usually I am only called out once or twice a year. Why today and now?’

  ‘Because that is the way that emergency work comes in,’ Kelly said cheerfully.

  ‘Hortense, a young niece of Minette’s, comes in quite often and sits with Jenny. But she isn’t here now. I expected to be here myself. So now, when she wakes, I must ask Minette to—’

  ‘Could I sit with Jenny?’ Kelly asked. ‘Would that help?’

  ‘It would help a lot. But why should you want to do that?’

  ‘In a few days I’m going to be working for you. Perhaps I just want to please the boss.’ She grinned, to show it was a joke. ‘Luc, you know it makes sense.’

  ‘Right. I accept. I’ll tell Minette, she will introduce you to Jenny when she wakes up. Kelly, I think I’m really going to enjoy working with you.’

  Only working? Kelly thought.

  ‘It hurts sometimes and sometimes it itches and I don’t like it,’ Jenny said. ‘And I can’t get out and walk in the garden and run or swim and it’s just not fair.’

  Kelly saw the little face start to crumple and knew that she had to find something to say, some way to stop the threatened tears. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said. Then she wondered quite what it was.

  She was somebody, something new to Jenny. This was an advantage. Jenny was obviously usually an active child and was not taking well to being confined to bed. She was bored. Kelly had quickly realised that her main job was to keep Jenny entertained, stop her from fretting, get her interested in something. What?

  Then she thought of the slightly older girls she had helped in the car crash. They had written her a letter. That was an idea.

  ‘How long were you in hospital, Jenny?’ she asked.

  ‘I was in for five days. I didn’t like it there but the nurses were nice to me. They held my hand when it hurt and I was crying.’

  ‘Well, I can hold your hand if you like but I don’t think it will hurt any more.’ She took hold of Jenny’s hand. ‘Here, and you’re not even crying. Were there any nurses that you specially remember?’

  ‘There was Helene and there was Françoise. They gave me a card when I left. That was nice.’

  ‘Would you like to write them a letter saying thank you for looking after you? And perhaps do a drawing of something for them?’

  Kelly smiled at Jenny, hoping that she could not see that she had her fingers crossed behind her.

  Jenny frowned as she thought. ‘I think that would be nice,’ she said. ‘I’ve got coloured pencils and there’s some paper for drawing over there. Will you help me?’

  ‘Certainly. I’ll help. But you must remember that this is a letter and a drawing from you, because you’re special. Now, where did you say the paper was kept?’

  Kelly enjoyed her stay with Jenny. Of course she had done some paediatric work when she had first studied, but since then had treated few children. But she remembered her own rather lonely childhood and that helped.

  And time seemed to pass quickly. Her ideas intrigued Jenny. Once or twice Minette came in, just to make sure that all was well. But otherwise Jenny and Kelly played together.

  It was about two hours before Luc returned. He came into Jenny’s room, carrying a glass of milk for Jenny, a glass of fruit juice for her.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy!’ Jenny opened her arms as best she could. Luc leaned over and gave her a gentle hug, a kiss, and then sat on the side of the bed. ‘How are you feeling, little girl?’

  ‘I’ve written a letter! And Auntie Kelly says you will send it to the nurses in the hospital where I was ’cos they will want to know how I am.’ />
  ‘I’m sure they will.’ Luc studied the sheet of paper that Jenny had passed him. ‘This is a very good letter. And a good drawing too!’

  ‘That’s me in bed with the fix—fix thing on my leg,’ Jenny said importantly. ‘Daddy, can Auntie Kelly come to stay with us?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, darling. She has her own home.’

  ‘Sometimes she could come and hold me when I cry in the night. Like you do. And then you could get more sleep.’

  ‘You’re going to stop crying in the night soon because you are getting better. Now, drink your milk. It makes bones mend.’

  This was a side of Luc that Kelly hadn’t seen before. He was tender. The love he had for his daughter was so obvious when he stroked her hair, when he held the glass to her mouth, when he kissed her gently on the cheek.

  I wish I had someone who could love me like that, Kelly thought to herself. Then she blanched. What was she thinking?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KELLY blinked. ‘Go out for dinner? On Saturday night? I haven’t eaten out once since I arrived in France. Just an occasional coffee in the town-centre café in the morning. But that’s been all.’

  ‘Because you did not want to mix with people?’ Luc guessed.

  ‘Something like that. I liked cooking for myself. I got used to my own company.’

  ‘I wish to take you to dinner. Perhaps as a small thank you for looking after Jenny so well this afternoon. Nothing too flashy, a small auberge I know that specialises in local food. And I promise that if you are not happy with the meal I will never ask you out again.’ He shook his head. ‘But I have every confidence in Malouf’s cooking.’

  She remained silent a moment. Then, in a flat voice, ‘But I don’t go out much among people. I’ve been happy in my own little world. It’s been all right you coming to see me in the cottage, or me coming to your house. But this is different.’

  She blinked as she thought of the enormity of it. ‘This is a date!’