‘Will you stay a moment, please, Charlotte?’
This was the last thing she needed right now. She knew that Isaac shouldn’t have been running around the clinic on his own. Edward didn’t need to tell her that, and it went without saying that it wouldn’t happen again. ‘Isaac, will you go and sit with Lucy, please? Just for a minute.’ She pointed to the patients’ seating area outside.
‘Here.’ Edward leaned forward, towards the boy, proffering a handful of change. ‘Get something for yourself and Lucy from the vending machine. D’you think Stinky wants anything?’
‘No, he doesn’t. He’s not a real rabbit, you know.’
‘Of course not. Well, something for you and Lucy then...’
Charlotte was about to stop Isaac from taking the money, but Edward had already put a selection of coins into his hand and Isaac was halfway towards the door. At least he remembered to thank Edward. She straightened herself and prepared for the dressing down that was coming.
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte.’
‘Eh...?’
‘You must have been worried when you couldn’t find Isaac.’
Worried? Frantic, more like. ‘I...I’m sorry he bothered you.’
‘He was no trouble. He seems to like molecules...’ Edward almost smiled and then thought better of it. Too bad. In that brief moment his eyes had seemed bluer, and his dark good looks less brooding.
‘He’s only five. He likes putting things together and taking them apart again...’ The rush of relief at finding Isaac had left her feeling like a limp dishcloth. And now this. Instinctively Charlotte put one hand to her brow, as if to shade herself from the intensity of those blue eyes which seemed to hold so much that was unsaid.
‘Hey. What’s this?’
He was on his feet, his hands on her shoulders. Edward had the worst timing of any man she’d ever known, bar none. Of all the times to choose to be kind, this was the one most likely to reduce her to tears.
‘Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m okay.’ She tried to avoid his gaze.
‘Clearly you’re not.’
There was a note of tenderness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. Something warm about the arm which wound around her shoulder. Something about his scent that made her instinctively sink into him, even though she knew that this was probably one of the worst ideas she’d ever had in her life.
Under the crisp white shirt there was some serious musculature. Strong arms, and a flat, hard stomach. For the second time in the last few minutes the swimming pool flashed into Charlotte’s head, but this time the image was considerably more inviting.
‘I’m okay...’ Charlotte thought about pushing him away and then decided that putting her hands anywhere near him would be far too much of a temptation. ‘Really. I’m fine.’
He seemed to feel it, too. He stepped back quickly, almost as if she’d burnt him, and turned towards his desk. ‘If there’s anything that’s bothering you, you should let someone know.’ He thought for a moment, obviously considering himself an unlikely candidate for any kind of emotional disclosure. ‘Lizzie, perhaps...I’m sure she’d be able to do...whatever’s needed.’
Edward had switched back into professional mode and the relief was almost palpable. ‘No. There’s nothing. I just had a bit of a scare when I couldn’t find Isaac...’ She bit her words back. Nothing like blaming the very person who had just tried to help her.
‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’
That was supposed to be her line. She smiled up at him, wishing that she could smooth some of the creases on his brow. ‘It’s okay. He’s safe, and that’s all that matters. I’m sorry he disturbed you. He knows he mustn’t wander around here.’
‘That’s all right. It was nice to talk to him.’ He gestured stiffly towards the molecule model kit. ‘His approach is refreshingly creative, compared with most.’
Was that a joke? It was difficult to tell with Edward, but the possibility intrigued Charlotte. She could see Lucy and Isaac out of the corner of her eye, settling themselves down on the sofa with their drinks. They’d be at least another five minutes, and hadn’t Paula always said that Charlotte only needed five minutes to get anyone to open up?
‘What’s it for? If you don’t mind my asking?’
‘You can use it for anything. I’m thinking of DNA sequencing.’ The way he brushed off the question almost made her believe that everyone had a model of a DNA sequence somewhere in their office.
‘Ah. Right. Anyone in particular?’
‘Mine, actually. Just a snippet of it, of course. But don’t you think there’s something rather interesting about actually being able to look at something that’s the very basis of your own make-up?’
‘I’d never really thought about it.’ Now he mentioned it, there was. There was an obscure symmetry about the concept that made her smile, even if she didn’t properly understand it.
‘You should. It would be interesting for Isaac...’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Perhaps when he’s a bit older.’
‘Yes, I think so. Is that all?’ She should go now. She’d managed to stem her tears for the moment, but who knew how long that particular dam was going to hold? Hopefully until after Isaac was safely tucked up in bed.
‘Are you going home? I’m going your way. I’ll give you a lift. The buses are horrible at this time of day—’ He broke off, as if he’d let something slip that he shouldn’t.
How did he know she took the bus home? And how did he know which way she went? Charlotte stared at him.
‘I’ve seen you waiting at the two-three-nine bus stop. And the two-three-nine goes almost directly along my route home. Of course you could be catching the number thirteen, but most people who do that walk down to the Oxford Circus stop, so they can get a seat—’ He broke off again, obviously wondering whether that was too much information.
‘Right. Next time I want to know which bus to take, I’ll know who to ask.’ She grinned at him. ‘But it’s okay, really. You must still have work to do and we’ll be going in a minute.’
He shrugged. ‘I was operating at six this morning, I should have been gone hours ago. And... You look tired.’
Perhaps Edward noticed more than everyone thought.
There was no perhaps about it. He clearly did. Somewhere inside a smile formed at the thought that some of those things were connected with her.
‘We...we can’t. Isaac needs a proper car seat...’ It was a pity. The buses were always packed on a Friday evening and she could have done with a ride home.
‘No problem. I have one fitted in my car.’
Something told Charlotte that Edward had worked all of this through before he’d even made the offer. The complex equation balanced two shopping bags, one child and an indeterminate number of full buses, crawling through the traffic, against one child seat, a comfortable car and a lift home. He probably already knew what she was about to say.
She smiled, wondering whether he’d factored that in or not. ‘Okay. If it’s no trouble. Thanks.’
CHAPTER TWO
EDWARD GAVE NO explanation for the brand-new child’s car seat when he opened the back door of his sleek dark blue car and waved Isaac inside. Perhaps the girls at work were right. Perhaps he did have a woman somewhere. A woman with a child. So much for Paula’s assertions that it couldn’t hurt to try to breach Edward’s reserve.
All the same, there was nothing wrong with taking a lift from him, and Charlotte couldn’t deny that this was a great deal nicer than the bus. Not having to continually grab at her bags to get them out of the way of someone else’s feet. Isaac safely strapped in behind her, with Stinky on his lap. Leather seats. The quiet strains of music floating at her from four different directions. She began to relax.
‘It would be more convenient for you to drive to work.’
As they passed Regent’s Park Edward’s customary forthrightness broke the silence.
‘Yeah. More expensive, too.’ She grinned at him. ‘Congestion charge, parking costs.’
He nodded. ‘I thought you were going to say you liked the bus.’
‘It’s not so bad. You meet a lot of interesting people on buses.’
‘So it’s a social experiment, then?’
Maybe for Edward. It was a matter of necessity for Charlotte. ‘You could call it that. We like it on the top deck, don’t we, Isaac?’
‘Yeah. You can see into people’s windows,’ Isaac piped up from the back seat.
‘Can you?’ Edward paused for thought. ‘What do you see?’
‘Christmas trees.’
‘In July?’
‘No, at Christmas.’ Isaac’s voice took on the tone of patient explanation that he sometimes used with adults. ‘We counted how many Christmas trees we could see on the way home.’
‘So you’re a mathematician. Is that why you’re called Isaac? After Isaac Newton?’
Isaac seemed to have succeeded where the combined talents of the Hunter Clinic had failed. That was definitely a joke, even if Isaac didn’t appear to understand it.
‘Who?’
Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘He’s five, Edward.’
He nodded. ‘So you’re keeping Newton for later.’ He made it sound like leaving the best chocolate in the box until last. He raised his voice, speaking to Isaac again. ‘So how many Christmas trees did you count?’
‘A million.’
‘Really? You live on the moon?’ Edward’s lips twitched and Isaac cackled with laughter. Although neither seemed to be quite on the same intellectual wavelength, they clearly shared the same sense of humour.
‘Noooo. Kentish Town.’
‘That explains it, then. Are you sure you didn’t count any of them twice?’
Isaac shrugged. ‘Maybe. It might have been a hundred.’
It seemed so natural to laugh with them. The obvious thing to do. ‘It was three hundred and forty-nine, wasn’t it, Isaac?’
‘That’s right. Three hundred and forty-nine.’
Edward nodded. ‘Impressive. That’s a prime number, you know.’
‘What’s a prime number?’
Edward shot a helpless glance at Charlotte and she shrugged. All of a sudden this quiet, reserved man had become almost talkative, and against her better judgement she actually wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.
‘It’s...um...it’s a very special number. There are lots of them. I dare say they’ll teach you about that at school.’
‘When?’
‘Er... Pretty soon, I imagine. Ask your teacher.’
‘Okay.’
Lucky escape. Charlotte mouthed the words at him and he raised one eyebrow, as if he’d been in complete control all along.
‘How many are there?’
She saw the line of Edward’s jaw stiffen as it became apparent that she had spoken too soon.
‘More than you can count. Even if you ride on the bus all day. The first prime number is two. Then five...’
By the time he’d worked his way up to twenty-nine and shown no signs of flagging Charlotte decided to step in. At this rate they could be driving to Birmingham and back before either Isaac went to sleep or Edward got to the point where he could no longer work out the next prime number in his head.
She turned in her seat to face Isaac. ‘Edward’s got to stop counting now, sweetie, because he’s driving and has to keep his eye on the road. I’ll explain all about prime numbers when we get home.’
‘Okay.’
* * *
It was nice having her in the car. She smelled good—like soap and roses. Rose soap, maybe. Edward ran through all the possibilities in his head and surprised himself with how delicious each of them was.
She didn’t just smell nice; she was nice. Whenever he saw her with the clinic’s clients she was always the same. Gentle, reassuring, and yet with a hint of fun about her. She made people smile. But Edward couldn’t help but think there was more. When he’d seen her at the bus stop the other day, huddled under her umbrella in the pouring rain, there had been a defeated slant to her shoulders that had made him want to stop, but his nerve had failed him. Getting involved with people wasn’t what Edward did.
‘You must like jazz?’ She was stretching her legs out in front of her. Smiling.
‘Very much,’ he said. ‘You?’
‘I don’t really know. I’ve not listened to much. I like this.’
‘Good.’ He could have left it at that. Would normally have left it at that. But against his better judgement he wanted to prolong the conversation. ‘Most people just automatically say they love jazz, irrespective of whether they’ve listened to any.’
She gave a little laughing nod, as if she knew just what he meant. ‘It’s one of those things that you’re meant to like, isn’t it? I mean if you admit to not knowing much about jazz, then it’s like owning up to being some kind of barbarian.’
‘I don’t think you’re a barbarian.’ He thought she was a damn sight more honest that most people.
He was rewarded with one of the smiles that she was so free with. This one seemed just for him. ‘That’s all right, then.’
Charlotte asked him to drop them in the High Street, but when Edward insisted on taking her all the way home she directed him to a quiet backstreet. Small houses—many of them shabby and unkempt. He parked outside a house with a neat front garden. The front door badly needed a paint job. Charlotte jumped out of the car, unbuckling Isaac’s seat belt while Edward took her shopping bags out of the boot.
‘Can I carry these in for you?’
‘No. No, that’s okay, thank you. Thanks for the lift.’ She picked the bags up with one hand and took Isaac’s hand with the other. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’
‘Bye, Edward. Thank you...’
She shot a glance of approbation in her son’s direction and then turned away. Suddenly it seemed that she couldn’t get rid of him fast enough and a vague feeling of disappointment nudged at him.
‘Bye, Isaac. Nice to meet you...’
The boy twisted his head around as his mother marched him away, and gave him a grin, but Charlotte seemed caught up with her shopping bags. There was nothing to keep him so Edward got back into his car. As he turned in the road he noticed in his rearview mirror that the front gate was sticking and that she was struggling with it. He almost stopped the car and got out again, but then she kicked it and it snapped open, and she walked up the front path without looking back.
* * *
Charlotte slammed the front door closed behind her and dropped her shopping, leaning back against the door. Home. Half of her wished she was still in Edward’s car and that they really had been driving to Birmingham and back. Newcastle, even. The other half was glad that he was gone before he’d had a chance to see the threadbare carpet in the hall and the second-hand furniture in her sitting room.
‘Is Edward your boss, Mum?’
‘He’s a surgeon. At the clinic.’
‘So he makes people well? Like you do?’
‘Yes, darling.’
Isaac nodded. ‘He’s nice’
Charlotte found herself smiling again. ‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’ She picked up her shopping bags. ‘Now, let’s see what we’ve got for supper, shall we?’
* * *
It was only a short drive from Edward’s house back to Charlotte’s, but it was like travelling from one world to another. The trendy shops and cafés gave way to houses which seemed even more run-down than they had yesterday evening, and when he drove slowly along Charlotte’s road it didn’t seem any more salubrious than the last time he’d been
here.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. At ten o’clock on a Saturday morning she could be out, or having a lie-in...anything. But he was here now, with Stinky sitting next to him on the front passenger seat. If she wasn’t there, then maybe Stinky would fit through the letterbox.
Cars lined the pavement, and he had to drive past her house to find a parking spot. As he did so he caught a glimpse of her on the doorstep, between the broad backs of two men who seemed to be crowding close in on her. What he could see of her stiff, upright frame, screamed that there was something wrong.
Edward accelerated into a free space. ‘Don’t move, Stinky. I’ll be back in a minute.’ He lunged out of the car, and down the road, to where her front gate stood open.
‘Charlotte!’ Now that he was closer he was sure that he was right. She was dressed in sweat pants and a tee shirt, bare feet on the doorstep, but she stood as tall as she could, the door almost closed behind her, her face fierce and determined. ‘What’s going on?’
She stared at him as if he’d just landed from another planet. One of the men swung round to face Edward, his pudgy face harsh. ‘Nothing to concern you, sir. Just a bit of business with the lady.’
Her face had flushed bright red. Tears rimmed her eyes, before she quickly brushed them away. These guys were bad news. They stank of the kind of aggression which dressed itself up in cheap suits and a nasty attitude.
‘Then you have business with me.’ Edward pushed in between them and stood next to her on the step. He wanted to put his arm around her, ask her if she was all right, but this wasn’t the time. ‘Step back. Now.’
They stepped back. The anger that was raging in his chest must have been showing in his face, because the expression on the face of the larger of the two became slightly less belligerent. Edward pressed his advantage. ‘Now, what’s all this about?’
‘Are you this lady’s husband, sir?’
‘I’m her legal advisor.’ Suddenly Edward was mightily glad that he’d left Stinky in the car. This was rapidly beginning to look like a confrontation of some sort, and holding a battered blue rabbit in his hand wouldn’t have helped.
200 Harley Street: The Enigmatic Surgeon Page 2