The Real Fantasy

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Sorry about that. He obviously decided to test you under pressure.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes—and I leaked like an old gas main. Oh, well. There’ll be other jobs.’

  ‘I shouldn’t panic. I thought you stood up to him rather well.’

  ‘But is that what he’s looking for?’

  Rhys’s mouth quirked in a smile. ‘Who knows? We’re interviewing again tomorrow, so you should get a letter by the end of the week. If it helps at all, you’ve got my vote.’

  She summoned a smile. ‘Thanks. I don’t think I’ve got Matthew’s.’

  Rhys’s brow creased again. ‘I wouldn’t say that. He’s often preoccupied. Probably something to do with a patient—I shouldn’t take it personally. I’d show you the flat, but I have to go. I’ve got several calls to make.’

  ‘The flat?’

  ‘Yes, there’s a flat that goes with the job—over the surgery, upstairs. It’s very pretty—bit atticky, but I suppose it’s all part of the charm. If you crane your neck it’s got a sea view.’ He grinned. ‘Suzanne will show you.’ He unfolded himself from the sofa, shook her hand and left, closing the door softly behind him.

  Linsey sagged back against the cushions and let out a sigh of relief. As interviews went, that had been appallingly difficult. Still, even though she hadn’t got the job—and she was sure she hadn’t—at least she’d seen Matthew again and had a chance to thank him.

  He might want to dismiss the incident, but she had no illusions about what she owed him.

  She remembered again the tug of the weed at her hair, the slimy feel of it clinging round her arms, dragging her under. She shuddered with the memory. Her dress had caught on a propeller—fortunately stationary—and trapped her further as she struggled with the weeds and the clinging mud around her ankles, and she could remember the terror, the sheer blind panic of knowing she was going to die in that cold, sinister water and that nothing could save her.

  Then, just as she was sliding into oblivion, she had felt the firm grip of a pair of strong masculine hands wrenching her free, and the next moment there had been the blessed sun on her face and the tender caress of his hand across her brow.

  She might have made light of it to Tricia, but she had been badly frightened, and Matthew had known that. Clearly, though, however pleased he might have been to see her again and make sure she was all right, he wasn’t going to let their slight acquaintance influence him positively towards her. If anything, he was leaning the other way.

  Or maybe she had carried a false image of him all these years? There was no reason, of course, why they should get on. They had exchanged perhaps two dozen words altogether both at the quayside and later when he had brought her flowers in hospital. She didn’t know him. Perhaps he was just a miserable, cheerless individual. Whatever, she sensed that he didn’t like her. Another fantasy in the dust, she thought wryly. So much for the gun-metal eyes of my dreams. Anyway, he was married.

  She put her plate down, her appetite quite gone. She had hardly touched the delicious lunch, she realised, so busy had she been defending herself and answering questions. She didn’t ant it now. All she wanted was to get away, to get back to Birmingham and her work in A and E, and to find time to curl up with this week’s journals and look for another trainee post.

  Skegness or Great Yarmouth or Blackpool, perhaps, if she wanted the sea. One thing she was sure of—she wouldn’t be offered the post by Matthew Jarvis.

  He might have saved her life once, but quite clearly he had decided that his responsibility to her started and ended there. She would have to look elsewhere to further her career.

  She went and found Suzanne White. ‘I’m going now—thank you for the coffee and the lunch.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, I haven’t shown you the flat yet!’

  Linsey smiled. ‘That’s all right. I haven’t really got time to look at it,’ she lied.

  ‘Well, I hope I see you again, dear,’ Suzanne said with a genuinely friendly smile. ‘We could do with your sunny face to brighten the place up.’

  Linsey found her eyes misting over. ‘Yes. Well, thanks. I hope so too. Goodbye.’

  She let herself out of the back door, ran to her car and was just getting in when Matthew came out of the door.

  ‘Are you off?’

  She stood up again. ‘Yes. I’ve got a long drive.’

  He walked up to her, his eyes somehow haunted. ‘I’m sorry I was a bit hard on you in there.’

  She shrugged. So was she, but what could she do about it? Nothing. And nor could he. He looked awkward, staring at his hands and then back at her, his eyes belying the careful expression on his face.

  ‘I just wanted to say I’m glad I’ve seen you again and that everything’s all right.’

  ‘You too,’ she said, dredging up the tiniest smile. ‘Well, goodbye again. I hope you find your trainee.’

  She slid behind the wheel, slammed the door and reversed out without looking at him again. She caught sight of him in the mirror as she paused at the roadside—watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  She pulled out onto the road with a little spurt of gravel, and her idol disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  How appropriate. What a suitable ending for a fantasy. She blinked the mist from her eyes and headed for home...

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I THINK Linsey’s the best.’

  Matthew scowled at Rhys. ‘You’ve made that quite obvious.’

  Rhys shrugged. ‘I have to work with her too, you know—maybe for ever.’

  Matthew snorted. ‘I don’t think so. She’s an airhead.’

  ‘A dumb blonde? I hardly think so. Look at her qualifications, then look at your own—or is that the problem?’ Rhys’s voice was dry.

  Matthew shook his head. Ego wasn’t one of his problems, and his own exam results had been perfectly respectable. It wasn’t her brain that worried him. ‘I know she’s academically gifted. That doesn’t mean a thing in medicine. She has to be clever enough to have got this far. I’m more interested in her dedication and commitment, her motivation, her staying power.’

  Rhys sighed. ‘Have you read her references?’ he said pointedly. ‘She is outstanding. Nobody has said anything about her that wasn’t positively dripping with accolades. And I liked her.’

  ‘Fine. You liked her, so I have to work with her?’

  Matthew knew that he was being irrational, but he couldn’t discuss his feelings about Linsey—and for her—with a colleague, or even a very good friend. Admittedly, what he had seen of her was at odds with his memory of her, but eight years ago she had been flighty, light-headed and thoroughly silly—and he’d been knocked off his perch by her like a lovesick parrot.

  He wasn’t looking for an encore.

  ‘OK, then, who else?’ Rhys said, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms across his massive chest. The neutral expression on his face didn’t reach his eyes, which glittered with challenge.

  Damn. There he had him. There was nobody else—at least, no one who on paper or otherwise stood up to Linsey. She had made her stand and defended it well, and he found himself reluctantly admiring her for it.

  ‘You were a pig to her,’ Rhys said softly.

  ‘Yes, I know. I apologised.’

  Rhys grunted, studying Matthew’s face searchingly. ‘What happened between you eight years ago?’ he asked out of the blue.

  Matthew felt hot colour flood the back of his neck. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You fancied her.’

  ‘She was eighteen.’

  ‘And I’ll bet she was stunning. That’s the problem, isn’t it? The sexy little minx got under your skin and you can’t cope with it.’

  ‘Rubbish.’ Matthew shifted uncomfortably, even more conscious of the heat reddening his neck.

  Rhys’s smile was knowing. ‘Take her on. Keep her for the year, and have an affair with her. I think it would do you good.’

  ‘Jan might have something to say about that,’ he
reminded Rhys mildly.

  The rude snort that followed that remark needed no elaboration. ‘Go on, Matthew. Live a little. Give your hormones some exercise for once.’

  ‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’ Matthew prodded.

  Rhys’s face lost its animation. ‘A home? You mean that shell with three whining kids and a woman who doesn’t want to know me? Yeah, I’ve got a home.’

  Matthew leant forward and put his hand on his friend’s big, bony knee. ‘I’m here, old man, if you want to chat.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Rhys’s voice was subdued, his face shuttered. ‘I think I will go, actually. Emma was sick this morning and Judy won’t be coping well. I’d better go and rescue them all from each other. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Matthew watched him go, and worried. Things seemed to go from bad to worse. He must see Judy—and he must make a decision on this trainee. If Rhys and Judy were heading for a crisis, perhaps it had better be someone who was free to start soon. Rosie didn’t actually leave until October, but if he could get someone before then—perhaps at the beginning of August? It never hurt to have extra cover during the silly season. People seemed to wait until they were on holiday to become ill, for some reason, and their workload always doubled in the summer months.

  Yes, someone who could start promptly could well be worth considering. There were only a couple, of course, the dreaded Linsey one of them.

  Lord, she was lovely. Rhys was right, needless to say. She had got under his skin eight years ago. He’d only seen her twice—the first time when she’d fallen in, the second when he’d dropped into the hospital on his way to pick Sara up for the evening, just to make sure that the subject of his heroism was doing well.

  That second visit had been a mistake. She’d looked at him with those enormous jade-green eyes and thanked him in a soft, slightly throaty voice that had become woven into his dreams over the next few weeks to the detriment of his sanity—and his relationship with Sara.

  Still, he was older now, there was Jan to consider and on closer inspection Linsey was not the stuff of his fantasies. Instead she was quirky, opinionated and downright cheeky. The meek, sweet, wide-eyed, fawning girl of his fantasies had been rudely supplanted by a robust, quick-witted woman who was nobody’s fool.

  On second thoughts, that made her even more exciting.

  He tipped back his head and groaned. Why, oh, why had she come back into his life?

  There was an easy answer, of course: don’t give her the job. Offer it to someone else.

  And miss the chance of a lifetime?

  He swore softly. The chance for what? He was committed to Jan—had been tiptoeing round the issue of marriage for months. He had no doubt that, if he’d been pushed, he would have been sleeping with her, but she’d seemed happy to let it drift, and he’d been so busy at work over the summer that there honestly hadn’t been any opportunities.

  Perhaps it was time to push ahead on that front, and forget about aggravating blondes with attitude. He’d find someone else for the job.

  He shuffled the letters and interview notes endlessly, but came up with the same answer every time. What he didn’t know was why...

  ‘You’ve got it! You’ve got the job! Oh, Linsey!’

  Tricia hugged her stunned friend, snatched the letter out of her hand and read it aloud.

  ‘“Dear Dr Wheeler, thank you for attending your recent interview. We should like to offer you the post of registrar in general practice with us—salary as per scale attached, training hours by arrangement to suit schedules”, blah blah, et cetera.’ She dropped the letter on the coffee-table and plopped down beside Linsey on the sofa. ‘The first of August? That’s next week! Talk about leaving it till the last minute! You’ll have to pack up and rush off almost immediately—’

  ‘If I go.’

  Tricia’s pretty little jaw dropped. ‘What? What do you mean, if you go? Of course you’re going! Linsey!’

  She shrugged. ‘Am I?’

  Tricia sank back into her corner of the sofa, her eyes searching Linsey’s face. ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was hostile.’

  ‘Hostile? Isn’t that a bit strong?’

  Linsey shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I got the distinct feeling he thought I was a bubble-brain.’

  Tricia laughed. ‘What? You? A bubble-brain? Give it a rest!’

  ‘I mean it.’

  Tricia’s smile faded. ‘Lins, that’s crazy. You’re the most focused, intelligent, self-disciplined person I know—’

  ‘Oh, Tricia!’ Linsey laughed and hugged her friend. ‘You are so loyal! I’m lazy, bird-brained and totally self-indulgent.’

  Tricia shook her head emphatically. ‘Only in the flat. You used to be like that, but you’ve spent years getting away from it. What you don’t realise is you have got away—you’re different now—and you most certainly aren’t a bubble-brain.’

  Linsey shrugged slightly. ‘Tell it to Matthew Jarvis. He thinks I’m too daffy to do the job.’

  ‘So why has he offered it to you?’

  ‘Well, funny you should mention that. I really don’t know.’

  ‘But you will take it?’

  Linsey hesitated. ‘I have to earn a living,’ she said finally, ‘and it is a lovely part of the world.’

  Tricia studied her fingers for a moment. ‘I’ll miss you,’ she murmured. ‘You’ll be a long way away.’

  Linsey looked round the flat. ‘Will you stay here?’

  Tricia shrugged. ‘Yes, probably. I’ll see if I can get another flatmate—perhaps someone tidy?’

  Linsey punched her arm gently and laughed. ‘I’m not that bad any more.’

  ‘No—but I’ve spent two years training you!’

  ‘So you have.’

  They shared a smile, and then Linsey bounced off the sofa and reached for the phone.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Accepting the job—quickly, before I talk myself out of it. Then you can help me pack.’

  The traffic was awful. The last Saturday in July was the very worst time of year to make her way down through the New Forest, and by lunchtime Linsey was bitterly regretting her timing.

  The motorway was chock-a-block, and when she finally left it the tailback to Lyndhurst was about five miles long and growing steadily.

  She consulted her map, did a U-turn in the road and cut through the tiny villages, making a big circuit but saving herself probably at least one hot, frustrating hour of sitting in a traffic queue.

  It was better then until after Brockenhurst, but the last bit into Lymington started to get very busy and she did another wiggle through the villages, cutting down through Sway and Pennington and picking up the coast road for Milhaven without having to wrestle with Lymington on market day—and that had to be good news.

  Suzanne had warned her about market day when she’d made the final arrangements to come down, and as she saw the traffic heading back into Lymington from the west, she was heartily relieved that she wasn’t on call and trying to fight with the traffic on her way to an emergency.

  She pulled into the car park behind the surgery and found a space with her name on it, neatly painted onto a little white board on a short post hammered into the ground. Obediently, she parked in her slot and glanced across at the only other car there.

  Matthew’s? Suzanne had said someone would be there to let her in, give her the keys and show her how the alarm worked. She hadn’t said who, though.

  Only one way to find out, thought Linsey, but her legs seemed strangely reluctant all of a sudden. What if he was still hostile? Was it all going to have been the most dreadful mistake?

  She shook her head in irritation, flung open the door and climbed out of the car. She was hot and sticky, her hair was tangled to death from driving with the windows open and she hoped that there were gallons of hot water because she was going to have the longest shower in the world—just as soon as she’d found the flat and got all her s
tuff inside.

  Matthew watched from the attic as Linsey climbed out of the car, stretching her long, slender legs and shaking her hair out of her eyes. She looked hot and cross, he thought, and incredibly beautiful.

  Damn. If those jeans fitted her any tighter they’d cut off her circulation. She opened the boot of her car and bent over, treating him to an inviting curve of taut bottom.

  He groaned and dropped his forehead against the glass. What had he done? She was going to drive him crazy. The libido he’d managed so effectively to stifle with Jan’s help roared healthily to life, kicking and screaming for recognition.

  He shifted uncomfortably. His jeans were nearly as tight as hers now, damn it. She straightened, her full, soft breasts pushing against the limp T-shirt and making the ache worse.

  ‘Oh, get a grip, Jarvis,’ he growled. Turning away from the window, he ran down the stairs to the kitchen and opened the back door. ‘You’re here,’ he said inanely, and could have kicked himself.

  She looked up over her shoulder. ‘So it appears,’ she said drily. ‘Did I misunderstand your letter?’

  He felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth and stepped down onto the gravel. ‘Of course not. How was your journey?’

  She gave him a withering look. ‘How do you think? It’s the busiest Saturday of the summer on the roads, and guess where everybody wants to be.’

  The grin widened. ‘I should have warned you. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. I hate traffic jams. Is there a shower?’

  Matthew had a sudden, crystal-clear vision of Linsey naked under a stream of water, and his jeans tightened further. ‘Yes,’ he said curtly. ‘There’s a shower, and the hot water’s on.’

  She raised an eyebrow at his tone, but said nothing. Instead she turned her back to him, picked up the heaviest of the cases and dropped it almost on his toes.

  ‘Here—you can prove you’re a gentleman. I’ll take the rest.’