“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes curiously tender. “What is this…?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the tears began to run unchecked down her face. “It was so awful up there, so wet and wild…and…and so lonely…” She shook her head in distress, unable to blot out the pictures that filled her head.
Without a word Casey stepped forward, put his arms around her and held her close. It felt safe, warm and secure in the shelter of his arms, and at that moment, if she’d been asked, Adele quite easily could have said that she was happy to stay there indefinitely. But gradually, inevitably, common sense returned.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “That was very unprofessional of me.”
“Not at all.” He didn’t release her, just moved back a bit so he could look into her face again while keeping his arms around her. He really should let her go, she thought, albeit halfheartedly, but he didn’t.
Dear Reader,
In my latest novel, Police Doctor, I have attempted to combine several elements: the sweet awareness of a growing romance, the stark realism and the danger of the work undertaken by a police doctor and the gentle pace of life in an English rural town, where tensions and undercurrents are sometimes masked.
Throughout the story strides the figure of Casey—a tough, unconventional hero, with his motorbike and leathers, whose hard shell, developed to protect him from the traumas of his past, conceals a tender and generous heart.
I enjoyed writing about Casey and Adele’s world—I hope you have as much enjoyment reading about it.
With best wishes,
Laura MacDonald
Police Doctor
Laura MacDonald
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
‘ADELE, it’s good to see you again.’ Edward Fletcher stood up, came round his desk and, instead of shaking her hand, which she had expected him to do, kissed her warmly on the cheek. ‘Please, do come in and sit down.’ The kindly GP indicated a chair alongside his desk. Feeling rather like a cross between one of his patients and some long-lost niece, Adele sat down.
‘Did you have a good journey?’ Edward asked as he resumed his own seat.
‘Yes, it wasn’t too bad at all once I got onto the M6.’
‘Well, I hope you’re going to be happy with us all here in Stourborne Abbas.’
‘I’m sure I will be,’ Adele replied, looking round at Edward’s consulting room as she spoke. She could still hardly believe that she was here, that she’d actually left the familiar world of her home town of Chester and her life as a hospital doctor and started out on the road to becoming a GP.
‘Adele, before we go any further I have to tell you that there are one or two things that have changed since you came for your interview.’ Suddenly Edward’s affable expression had become serious and Adele felt a twinge of unease.
‘What sort of things?’ she asked.
‘Well, for a start, unfortunately I’ve been diagnosed with angina and high blood pressure which has meant I’ve had to reduce my workload.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Adele slowly. ‘Does this mean my coming here has caused problems?’ She looked at Edward and could see now that he did indeed look tired and rather drawn.
‘Not really.’ He shook his head. ‘But I’m afraid that what it does mean is that I am no longer able to be your trainer. Don’t worry,’ he added when he saw her look of alarm, ‘it isn’t going to be as much of a problem as you might think. My partner, Casey, has agreed to take over. Now, Casey wasn’t at your interview—he was taking a three-month sabbatical at the time.’
‘So is he happy with this new arrangement?’ asked Adele dubiously.
‘Oh, yes. In fact, it was he who suggested it.’
‘Really?’ Adele raised her eyebrows in surprise.
‘Yes, but he does also happen to be my own GP and having just told me to slow down…’
‘He didn’t have a lot of choice—is that what you’re saying?’
‘Something like that.’ Edward laughed, seeming to like her direct manner. Growing serious again, he said, ‘But you mustn’t worry, Adele, your training year isn’t in any jeopardy at all. Apart from the fact that it won’t be me who is your trainer everything else is as it stood at your interview and your flat is available upstairs. And there is also just one thing that I think might even be to your advantage.’
‘Oh?’ said Adele, trying to show some enthusiasm. Suddenly she felt rather flat, as if her arrival at the practice in Stourborne Abbas was some dreadful sort of anticlimax. ‘And what is that?’
‘At your interview you said that you were interested in forensics and police work.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Adele agreed. ‘I’ve always felt that’s an area I might like to explore further in the future.’
‘Well, Casey happens to be the police surgeon for Stourborne Abbas.’
‘Really?’ Suddenly there seemed possibilities in this new arrangement, which, if she was honest, had thrown her slightly. She had prepared herself to spend a year under the tuition and guidance of this kind and easygoing man and now it seemed that crucial year was to be spent with a man she hadn’t even met. ‘Tell me,’ she said looking up, her gaze meeting that of Edward’s, ‘what is Casey’s surname?’
Edward chuckled. ‘Casey is his surname,’ he said. ‘He likes it that way,’ he added when he saw her look of surprise. ‘Now,’ he went on briskly, ‘back to basics.’ Opening a drawer in his desk, he took out a set of keys and handed them to her. ‘These are the keys to your flat,’ he said, adding as an afterthought, ‘What have you done with your car?’
‘It’s on the forecourt,’ Adele replied. ‘Is that all right?’ she added.
‘Yes, but I suggest you bring it round to the rear of the building. There’s a small car park round there reserved just for the doctors. When you’ve done that I’ll get one of the girls to take you upstairs to your flat. I’d do it myself but…’ he pulled a face ‘…stairs and I don’t seem terribly compatible these days.’
Moments later Adele was back in her car and reversing out of the forecourt in front of Woolverton House—Stourborne Abbas’s medical centre. It was a large house, over two hundred years old and occupying a prime position in the high street of the busy market town. The house had, in its time, as Adele had already found out, been the family home of a wealthy cloth merchant, a small private school for the children of gentlefolk and for a long period of time a hotel, but more recently had been taken over by the local group practice as its health centre.
Following Edward’s instructions, Adele turned the car into an entrance to the right of the building, driving beneath an archway and into a cobbled courtyard where she found three cars already parked and spaces for three more. Carefully she reversed into one of the spaces—it took some manoeuvering as the space was tight but at last, with a sigh of relief, she was able to switch off her engine. Leaning forward, she looked up at the old, mews-type buildings with their gables and attics under the eaves that formed the rear of the house, and just for a moment found herself wondering about the people who had lived there in times gone by, imagining the merchant’s children playing in the courtyard or the servants going about their daily tasks. History was one of Adele’s passions and it was Woolverton House itself that had been the deciding factor in her reaching her decision to come to Stourborne Abbas for this crucial year of her training.
&
nbsp; Opening the car door, she had just stepped out onto the cobbles when she jumped as a sudden roar filled the air, shattering the peace of the quiet courtyard as a large, powerful motorbike swept under the archway, circled then drove into the space opposite Adele. For a moment she felt irritated that her musings of the past had been so violently interrupted by such an acute reminder of the modern world and she found herself glaring indignantly at the rider. Clad almost entirely in black leather, his face—at least, Adele presumed it was a he, there seemed little chance that the powerful figure before her could belong to a woman—was hidden behind the visor of a shiny black crash helmet. Quite suddenly and irrationally her irritability spilled over. Later she was to wonder exactly why, but at the time it had been nothing more than the fact that he had disturbed her moment of peace or maybe it had been something to do with his attitude. First he surveyed her from astride his machine and then as he dismounted, the action in itself suggested an arrogance, which touched a raw nerve.
‘You can’t park there,’ she stated flatly, her voice rising slightly. ‘It’s reserved for doctors’ cars.’
Carefully he unfastened his crash helmet and removed it, shaking his head slightly as he did so, and Adele found herself looking into a pair of eyes that were neither entirely grey nor green but somewhere in between, their expression unreadable as he stared at her, not exactly hostile, just indefinable, which did little to relieve the jangling of her nerves. His hair was dark, cropped close to his head, his features rugged, not handsome, maybe attractive to a certain kind of woman but not handsome, certainly not handsome like Nigel.
But she mustn’t think of Nigel now, she told herself firmly, she mustn’t think about Nigel at all, it was too dangerous for that was a road that led to despair and depression. Nigel had classical good looks with his blue eyes and fair skin, his blond hair and aristocratic features and the man before her resembled a bandit from a bad Hollywood movie. Why, he even had a scar on his face which ran from the centre of his left eyebrow to the edge of his jaw, acquired, no doubt, in some drunken brawl. She found herself imagining the body beneath the black leathers to be covered in tattoos and expected, as he un-fastened the collar of his jacket, to catch the gleam of gold from at least one earring. But there was none and as, without speaking, he removed his gauntlets and unzipped his jacket it was obvious he intended disregarding Adele and staying where he was.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ she demanded.
‘Yes,’ he replied calmly, ‘you said these spaces were reserved for doctors’ cars, in which case I could question what you are doing parked there.’ He glanced beyond her towards her car as he spoke.
‘I am a doctor.’ She tilted her chin defiantly, still irritated by the man’s whole demeanour.
‘Really?’ His tone held a suggestion that he doubted the fact. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
Something in his manner compelled Adele to answer. ‘I’m Dr Brooks,’ she said, as haughtily as she could, ‘Adele Brooks.’ She paused and when he still didn’t offer any information as to his identity, in the same tone she said, ‘And you are?’
‘I also am a doctor,’ he stated quietly. ‘The name’s Casey.’
She felt such a fool, but how could she have known that this man who had managed to irritate her for no apparent reason and in such a short space of time was not only one of the partners but also the man who was now to be her trainer for the next year?
‘I’m sorry,’ she found herself muttering, ‘I didn’t think you were a doctor. You don’t look like a doctor…’ she added in her defence.
‘And what are doctors supposed to look like?’ There was a mocking expression in Casey’s eyes now, which only served to irritate Adele even further.
‘Well, I don’t know too many who wear black leathers or who ride high-powered motorbikes,’ she retorted.
‘What you’re saying is that the ones you know drive BMWs or Volvos and wear tweed jackets, is that right?’
‘Something like that, yes.’ Adele nodded, wishing she could escape from this man whose stare was beginning to make her feel very uncomfortable.
‘I find a motorbike more practical for negotiating traffic and leather is the only sure protection against the elements or sudden contact with the tarmac. I use the practice Land Rover on occasion…’ he nodded towards the large vehicle in one corner of the courtyard ‘…but I much prefer the freedom of the bike.’ He paused, his gaze briefly wandering over her, seemingly taking in every detail of her appearance, from her slender figure in the black suit she had chosen to wear because she had fondly believed it might create the right impression on her first day to her long dark hair and the scarlet ribbed top that matched her lipstick. ‘So you’re Adele Brooks,’ he said thoughtfully, and there was no way of telling whether he approved of what he saw or not. Not giving her a chance to answer, he carried on, ‘Have you seen Edward yet?’
‘I have.’ She paused. ‘It was he who told me to come and park here,’ she added quickly.
‘Did he also tell you about the new arrangements?’
Adele nodded, wondering in that instant quite how she was going to endure working for a whole year with this man who, as far as she could tell on such short acquaintance, was as different from Edward Fletcher as it was possible to be.
‘Where’s your luggage?’ He leaned sideways and looked at the boot of her car.
Without a word she turned and walked to the rear of the car, unlocked the boot and began dragging out one of her two large suitcases.
‘Let me do that.’ He was suddenly beside her, his leather-clad figure alarmingly close in the restricted space between the car and the wall.
‘It’s all right, I can manage…’ she began, but he ignored her, lifting out the second suitcase and setting it briefly down on the ground before picking up both cases and heading for a doorway on the far side of the courtyard, leaving Adele to scoop up the rest of her belongings and follow him. He kicked open the door and disappeared into a long dark passage at the end of which Adele realised he had turned and was climbing a staircase. He only spoke once and that was when they reached the first landing and he looked briefly over his shoulder. ‘Did you see your flat when you came for your interview?’
‘No. The previous occupant was asleep at the time but I did see the flat that belongs to one of the practice nurses and I was told it’s very similar to the one I would have.’
He was silent until they reached the second floor. A corridor stretched out before them but they walked barely half its length before he stopped before a closed door and set down the cases. ‘Did Edward give you your keys?’ he asked, as if it had only just occurred to him.
‘Yes.’ Adele would have unlocked the door herself but he took the keys from her and inserted one of them in the lock, pushed open the door then picked up the cases once more and preceded Adele into the room.
Her first impression was one of light, the warm sunlight of the September afternoon that spilled into the room from the tall, sash-cord windows highlighting the sheen on the polished wooden floor.
‘You know it’s only a studio flat?’ He turned towards her after setting the cases down.
‘Yes, but I decided as it was just for a year I could probably cope with that.’
‘It does have its own bathroom and kitchen.’ He crossed the room in his slow, unhurried way and opened a door to which presumably had once been a large bedroom but which now had been converted to accommodate the facilities he had just mentioned. Following him, Adele allowed herself a brief look around and was satisfied by what she saw. ‘Is Penny still a neighbour?’ she asked at last. Penny Rudge was the practice nurse whom Adele had met at her interview and whose flat she had seen.
He nodded. ‘She is. We’ve adopted a new policy with these apartments—above the shop so to speak. We now only rent them out to members of staff.’
‘Was that not the case before?’
‘No, and the previous occupant of this flat turned out to be a bit of
a troublemaker. She had to go in the end.’
‘Really?’ Adele raised her eyebrows.
‘I hope you won’t be a troublemaker, Dr Brooks.’
It was such an unexpected comment to make that Adele found herself swinging round to protest, then having to bite back her ready retort as she saw the wry smile that hovered around the corners of his mouth and realised that he wasn’t serious. ‘It depends,’ she said lightly, ‘on the way I’m treated as to whether or not I make trouble. If I’m treated well I’m the most easygoing person in the world, but if anyone treats me badly, believe me, Dr Casey, I’m more than capable of making trouble.’
‘Casey,’ he said with a frown.
‘Sorry?’
‘You said Dr Casey.’
‘Isn’t that your name?’
‘I prefer plain Casey,’ he replied.
‘As you wish.’ She shrugged.
‘I’ll leave you to get yourself sorted out,’ he said. ‘You’d better give one of us a shout if there’s anything you want.’
‘What about food?’ Adele glanced around.
‘I’m afraid we don’t run to room service here.’ The mocking expression was back in those rather curious eyes of his and Adele felt herself flush.
‘I wasn’t suggesting that,’ she protested. ‘What I meant was that presumably there’s somewhere I can buy something.’
‘There’s a small supermarket just down the high street, but—’
‘That’ll be fine, thanks,’ she replied crisply, cutting him short. Suddenly she wanted him to go. She wanted to be alone to explore her flat and settle herself down into what was, after all, going to be her home for the next year. And she wanted to do it well away from the gaze of this man who for the moment she didn’t really know quite how to take.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He strolled to the door then stopped and looked back. ‘You’ll be ready to start tomorrow?’
It was barely a question, rather, Adele felt, an instruction. ‘Of course,’ she murmured coolly. Unexpectedly, his features softened into the semblance of something that could almost, but not quite, have passed as a smile, and she felt obliged to say, ‘Thank you for bringing my cases up.’
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