One Step At A Time

by Caroline Anderson

  Jeremy smiled weakly. There aren’t any.’

  Kate, reluctantly, had come to the same conclusion.

  Stephie ran up then, brandishing a huge bunch of grapes in a plastic bag.

  ‘Hi, Jeremy,’ she said cheerfully.

  The young doctor turned to her with a grin. ‘Hello, trouble. Going to see your father?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes—if I can ever get Mum to take me.’

  Kate shared a smile with Jeremy. ‘I’ll see you later—will tomorrow morning do? I could do with packing for us.’

  ‘Sure—and thanks.’

  Stephie shot a look after him as he walked off, and then fell into step beside her mother.

  ‘Pack?’ she said.

  ‘Sally Roberts has had to go home because her children are ill. With your father out of action as well they’re too short-staffed. I’m going to cover.’

  Stephie stopped in her tracks. ‘You?’ she said incredulously. ‘Dad will have a fit!’

  Kate shook her head. ‘He asked me.’

  ‘What?’

  The shock in her daughter’s voice said it all. That Dominic should not only invite her over the threshold but actually delegate authority to her was so out of character that Kate was still stunned. Poor Stephie was naturally pole-axed.

  ‘Maybe it was the bump on the head,’ Kate said drily.

  Steph shot her a look. ‘Very likely.’

  ‘Still, look on the bright side,’ her mother said. ‘You get to come here for the holidays after all.’

  And so, she thought, do I. And I wonder how it’s going to work...?

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘So, Do you know exactly what happened in this accident?’ Stephie asked as they walked to the car.

  ‘Someone hit him on a blind bend,’ Kate told her.

  ‘Was he in the Jag?’

  She smiled. ‘Apparently.’

  Stephie rolled her eyes. ‘Oops! God, he probably went ballistic!’

  ‘I expect he did—and don’t swear, please.’

  Stephie rolled her eyes again and slid into the car beside Kate, slamming the door with unnecessary force. Kate winced. It didn’t matter how many times she told her, always the door was slammed...

  She headed back towards the hospital, threading her way without too much difficulty through the early evening traffic. As they parked the car and followed the signs through the hospital to the ward Kate was suddenly aware of the nerves which made her heart pump faster, her throat feel tight and dry, her legs weak—

  He’s fine, she told herself, and wondered why she should be so badly affected. Anybody would think she still loved him, for heaven’s sake! What a ridiculous idea! She just—cared, that was all...

  ‘Here we are,’ she mumbled, and, giving her daughter’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, she turned in to the ward and went straight to the nursing station.

  The same staff nurse was at the desk and looked up as they approached. ‘Hello, Mrs Heywood,’ she said with a smile, and Kate returned it, glad to see a familiar face.

  ‘Hi, there. How is the old reprobate?’

  The nurse grinned. ‘Grumpy. Actually I think his leg’s giving him a bit of stick, but he’s using the pethidine pump sensibly—only what we’d expect from an anaesthetist, but they aren’t always the best patients! We’ll give him sleeping pills to help him through the next couple of nights and ensure he has enough rest. Perhaps you’ll be able to cheer him up—are you Stephie?’ she asked, switching her attention from Kate to her daughter.

  ‘Yes—we’ve got some grapes for him,’ she told the nurse.

  ‘Oh, good—I like grapes; I’ll be in to pinch one later,’ she said with a grin. ‘We’ve moved him, by the way—he’s in here now he’s more stable. He’ll get a bit more peace.’

  They were shown to a little single room and the nurse, with a smile, left them to it. At the door Stephie reached for Kate, and their hands linked and meshed.

  ‘Remember it looks much worse than it is because of the bruises,’ Kate said to reassure her daughter, but nothing could take away the shock of that first sight of him, Kate knew that. Even having seen him earlier, she still felt the impact.

  He looked worse, if anything, she thought. The left side of his face was even more bruised and swollen, and the eye just a thin crease in the damaged flesh. His mouth—that beautiful, clever mouth that had driven her to ecstasy with its touch and to despair with its verbal onslaughts—was cut and bruised, the lips swollen, a tiny trickle of dried blood at the corner. The bruising across his chest was now black and purple, livid against the stark white of the hospital linen, and, looking at it, Kate thought it was a miracle that his chest hadn’t caved in.

  His leg was still propped with pillows, to stop any tendency for the end to rotate on the pin, but there was a cradle over his hips now, and a sheet hid the damage from Stephie’s wide eyes.

  Kate looked back to his face-both eyes closed in sleep, the skin grey and drawn where it wasn’t bruised—and her soft heart ached for him.

  ‘Mum?’ Stephie whispered. ‘He looks awful.’ Kate’s hand tightened on her daughter’s. ‘He’s OK. It’s just bruising. He’ll look fine again in a few days.’

  ‘He’s unconscious.’

  ‘No, he’s not; he’s asleep.’ She released Stephie’s hand and walked up to Dominic, at the side that seemed to have escaped the brunt of the accident, and took his hand.

  ‘Dominic?’

  His right eye, the good one, flickered open, startlingly blue against the pallor of his skin. His mouth made the shape of her name, and she could see him struggling against the tide of sleep and concussion.

  She bent and kissed his cheek, a gesture totally spontaneous and not made for nearly twelve years, and then felt the warmth steal up her throat and flood her face with soft colour. ‘I’ve brought Stephie to see you,’ she told him.

  His eye glittered, sleep forced back by her words. ‘I told you not to tell her.’

  ‘I didn’t. She rang the clinic today. Mrs Harvey told her.’

  His grip tightened—in anger, she thought—and then he deliberately disentangled himself and shifted so that he could see Stephie.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he mumbled through his thick lips. ‘Sorry about this—it’s going to mess up your weekend, I’m afraid.’

  Stephie, her sophisticated, cool demeanour forgotten, burst into tears and sagged against the bed.

  ‘Forget about my weekend,’ she sobbed, and pressed her fist to her trembling mouth. ‘Look at you!’

  Dominic’s face twisted. ‘Oh, Steph,’ he groaned, and, reaching up his hand, he drew her gently down against his side. She curled into him, her head on his shoulder, and Kate saw him wince as her sobs shook the bed. ‘Shh, darling. I’ll be all right—really.’

  Kate touched his arm, draped over the sobbing girl. ‘Are you OK?’ she mouthed.

  He nodded slightly, his hand rhythmically soothing his daughter’s shoulder and wordless murmurings rumbling up from his chest so that she gradually relaxed against him. Eventually she sat up, dashing the tears from her eyes, and studied him anxiously. ‘You look horrendous,’ she said candidly, and sniffed.

  Thanks a bunch. I can’t tell you how much better that makes me feel.’

  They shared a ragged smile, his lopsided and strained, and then Kate suggested gently that perhaps her father would be more comfortable if Stephie got off the bed.

  She leapt to her feet, guilt written all over her tear-streaked face, and Dominic reached for her hand. ‘It’s OK, darling, you didn’t hurt me,’ he lied.

  Stephie looked doubtful, her eyes wide with remorse. ‘Sure?’ she whispered.

  ‘Sure,’ he told her, and winked with his one decent eye.

  Stephie, exhausted by the emotion, sank into the chair by the bed, still clutching her father’s hand, and stared at him unblinkingly, as if she didn’t dare look away or he’d crumble to dust.

  ‘We brought you grapes,’ Kate put in, to break the st
rained silence.

  Dominic’s eye flicked up to hers. ‘Grapes?’

  ‘You asked for them. Stephie got them from the clinic kitchen. Do you fancy one now?’

  For a second she thought she saw a flicker of something she recognised, a glimpse of the wild, white heat that had haunted their early relationship, but then she realised that she must have imagined it. Damn it, he was smashed up and in agony! Sex was the last thing on his mind—especially with her. Whatever was wrong with her?

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and his voice was gravelly. ‘You can feed them to me.’

  Her heart thumped. He’s thirsty, she told herself. It’s nothing to do with you. She almost jumped as his lips brushed her fingers to take the first grape.

  She ripped off another one, swallowing hard to regain her composure. Next time she’d drop it in his mouth—or better still...

  ‘Stephie, feed your father the grapes, darling.’

  She ate the one in her hand and dropped the bag on her daughter’s lap, solving two problems at once. Not only would Stephie have a job to do that might chase that terrified look off her face, but Kate wouldn’t have to risk touching those warm, expressive lips again. She didn’t need any more chinks in her armour. Just seeing him lying there like a felled warrior had all but wrecked her defences.

  She moved out of the way slightly, to give Stephie access to her father, and then glanced up to find him watching her.

  His one eye was so expressive, she thought. He knew damn well what she was doing. How could he play games, feeling so awful? She pinched another grape from the bag and stared him down.

  ‘So, how were things at the clinic?’ he asked after the third grape.

  ‘Fine,’ she assured him, She stifled a smile. She’d tell him it was fine if the place had burned down and all the patients with it, because the alternative was having him home far too soon, interfering and getting underfoot and generally driving everyone crazy, despite his promise not to. No, the longer he was out of the way, the better it would be for everyone. She just hoped that she could cope with the job.

  ‘I met Jeremy Leggatt,’ she told him. ‘He seems a very pleasant, friendly person.’

  ‘He is. He’ll tell you everything you need to know.’

  His eye closed and he shifted, then groaned, and she saw his hand close on the pethidine pump, his thumb depressing the button to trigger another dose of pain relief. Stephie shot her a panic-stricken look, and Kate laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Is it your leg?’ she asked Dominic softly.

  He groaned again, the sound tinged with impatience. ‘Everything. I feel as if I’ve been trampled by a herd of elephants. Bloody maniac. The police have been to see me—they’re prosecuting, but it won’t get me my car back.’

  Kate suppressed a smile at the petulant expression on his face, and he glared at her with his one open eye.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he growled.

  She patted his hand. ‘I’m not laughing. I’m sorry about your car. Judging by the look of you, you’re lucky to be alive.’

  He snorted, but the sound was cut off with a grunt of pain. ‘I don’t feel lucky,’ he muttered, and she saw his thumb squeeze again.

  Her fingers tightened on Stephie’s shoulder. ‘Come on, darling, I think your father needs to rest now. You can come and see him again tomorrow.’

  Stephie nodded, put the grapes down and chewed her lip tentatively.

  ‘Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?’ Dominic asked her with an almost-smile.

  With a choked sob Stephie bent and kissed him, her lips scarcely touching his cheek, and Kate saw a tear splash onto his stubbled jaw. He raised a hand and patted her arm weakly, then his eye drifted shut.

  Stephie turned away, obviously upset, and Kate hugged her briefly. ‘Hang on, sweetheart. Just hang on.’

  She bent and kissed him herself, a brief and meaningless social gesture—except that he turned his head at the last minute and her lips met his. They were warm and soft and full—too full after his accident, but nevertheless so, so familiar. A bolt of heat shot through her, astonishing in its intensity.

  She raised her head a fraction and met his eye. It was overbright, and a lump rose in her throat.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked softly.

  He nodded slightly. ‘Just about. Thanks, Kate.’

  She forced a smile. ‘Don’t mention it—I’ll put it on the bill.’

  It was meant as a joke, but she saw his eye narrow and then he turned his head away. She opened her mouth to explain—but what was the point? She couldn’t afford to let herself get too close to him anyway. If he thought she was a gold-digger, so much the better.

  She straightened up, then looped an arm round her daughter’s shoulders and led her out, weeping, to the car park.

  She felt like weeping herself. Not only for Dominic, but for the irony of the cosy little family group they must have looked.

  How far from the truth could you get? Dominic used to despise her. Now, she thought, he probably felt nothing for her but the faint stirrings of a long-ago passion—the passion that had been their downfall.

  Thank God he was going to be tied up in hospital while she was at the clinic. Absolutely the last thing she needed was him underfoot, messing up her mind, because one thing she had realised, if nothing else, was that that old, long-ago passion was far from dead.

  Bruises and all, he was more attractive to her than any other man had ever been, and with an inward sigh she realised that he probably always would be.

  Nice body, pity about the man, she thought ironically. No, she would definitely have to keep her distance from him, or completely lose her marbles.

  She ruthlessly ignored the little voice that said it might be worth it...

  ‘How about a guided tour, and I’ll tell you about it all as we go?’

  Kate smiled her gratitude at Jeremy and nodded. ‘Good idea. If you name names in the right places I might connect them better.’

  They were standing in the entrance hall, with the reception desk on one side and comfortable, elegant furniture set in little groups on the other, around the huge old stone fireplace.

  The ceilings seemed to be way above them, decorated with ornate plasterwork and trompe-l’oeil features, which were echoed on the wall panels that repeated round the lovely room.

  It could have been intimidating, but the moment Kate had entered the room she had felt the peace and tranquillity of the clinic enfold her. It was quiet, with the quiet of the countryside, and yet there was the sound of laughter in the distance, and here and there people were moving around their tasks with quiet efficiency. It was obviously a lovely place to be—a place to recover, to put the past behind and move on positively to the future.

  If only she could...

  ‘Where’s Stephie?’ Jeremy asked her.

  She smiled ruefully. ‘The stables. She said she’s always down there.’

  ‘She is. Kirsty will be there, of course. I expect they’ll ride most of the day.’

  Kate tried not to think about it. Stephie called her fussy and overprotective. She probably was.

  ‘So, this is Reception. I’ve met Mrs Harvey and Mary Whittaker, the secretary. Anyone else here?’

  ‘Part-time staff. You’ll get to know them as time passes. Domestic areas are all in the old hall itself—the dining room, TV room, quiet sitting room, library, the kitchens, laundry and so on—and the main bulk of the patients’ bedrooms are on the ground floor. We have four rooms that are more like hospital rooms, for paraplegics or post-ops who need more intensive treatment or round-the-clock nursing cover, but none of them are really hospital-type rooms. All have en suite shower rooms, but we haven’t got any baths because a lot of our patients can’t get in and out. I’ll show you a couple of the rooms.’

  They were lovely. Tastefully furnished, comfortable and roomy to allow for wheelchairs, and some of the rooms were doubles. There were twelve altogether, including the four more intensive ones, and t
hey looked really welcoming.

  ‘Patients can be here for some time, and often they like their partners here at the weekend if they can’t go home—hence the double beds in some of the rooms. We just charge them a small additional fee for meals. You’ll notice none of the shower rooms have shower trays; they all have draining floors so patients don’t have to step in and out and can even shower in wheelchairs if necessary, although all the showers have fold-down seats and grabrails.’

  She had noticed, and was impressed. It was an important detail, and it added to a disabled person’s independence, whether the disability was permanent or temporary.

  They moved on through the public rooms, which were all homely and comfortable despite the grandeur of the rooms. Nothing was intimidating, the furniture looked lived-in, and Kate could imagine sitting in one of the great rooms with a dog at her knee, feet tucked up under her, a book on her lap and Dominic sprawled opposite in front of the fire, eyes closed, resting after a hectic day...

  ‘Then we go through to the treatment areas,’ Jeremy said, jerking her back to her senses. She wondered if she looked a complete fool. Probably. She must have some daft, happy-ever-after sappy grin on her face. Lord, it was sick-making. She was here to work!

  She followed Jeremy, lecturing herself as she went. They passed through a set of huge old double doors into a corridor that ran away from the main hall up the east wing, towards the beautiful orangery and all the old stables—now, she imagined, converted to treatment areas.

  ‘From now on it’s all much more businesslike,’ Jeremy explained. ‘Here are the consulting rooms, where the patients are assessed on arrival and during their stay. You’ll have Dominic’s, in here.’

  There was a scarred and battered old mahogany desk by the window, cluttered with papers, and on the corner of the desk was a frame containing several pictures mounted behind oval cut-outs in the card. She picked it up out of idle curiosity and saw Stephie’s laughing face in the centre. It was a photo she’d never seen, one Dominic must have taken, and he’d captured her care-free spirit beautifully. There were others of her, younger, and then, in the corner, one which stopped Kate in her tracks.