Christmas-Eve Baby (6 page)

‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘Not to me,’ he said. Her colour deepened and she stood up and walked over to the window, rubbing her back. He got up and followed her, standing by her side and drawing her against him, putting the heel of his hand into the small of her back and massaging it firmly while he held her steady against his chest.

Silly girl. She needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with this independent nonsense a minute longer.

For a moment she stood stiffly, then with a ragged little sigh she leant into him, dropped her head forward and gave herself up to the comfort of his touch. It just felt so good to have him hold her, and she’d missed that so much, having someone to hug her and hold her. Her mother had always hugged her, and her father used to, but her mother was gone and her father had shut down and now there was no one.

Except Ben, and his hand was moving slowly, rhythmically round on her back, easing out the kinks in her muscles and soothing the tension. And she would have stood there for ever, but she heard footsteps outside and a tap on the door, and she stepped away from Ben just as Dragan put his head round the door and smiled.

‘Hi. Sorry I’m late. I’ve got Melinda here—Kate said you’d look at her?’

‘Sure. Hi, Melinda,’ she said, greeting the young vet who was fast becoming a treasured part of their community. ‘I gather you’ve been bitten?’

‘Yes—stupid,’ she said, her slight Italian accent at odds with the gorgeous golden blonde of her hair. She tossed it back over her shoulder out of the way and it slid forward again, obviously irritating her. ‘It was my own fault. The dog
was injured—we found her on the road near the pub. We’d been for lunch to the Smugglers’ and we were on the way down when we saw her. She was in pain, she didn’t know me—it was just one of those things.’

‘Is she OK?’

‘She is now,’ Dragan said drily. ‘We had to follow her, of course, and catch her, and then take her to the surgery and put her in a cage to rest. I had to drag Melinda here.’

‘I could have cleaned it up myself—’

‘It’s bleeding much too fast. You need serious attention, the right antibiotics—’

‘You think I don’t have antibiotics suitable for dog bites?’ she said mildly, but she held out her left arm to Lucy, her right hand holding down a blood-soaked swab on the inside of her forearm. ‘He’s right. It is bleeding heavily. I think she’s nicked one of the vessels.’

‘Let’s go into the treatment room and have a look. Oh, by the way, sorry, Dragan Lovak, Melinda Fortesque, Ben Carter,’ she said economically, getting the introductions over and ushering her into the treatment room where they did their minor surgery. ‘Let’s have a look at it,’ she suggested. Easing off the pad of gauze, she winced at the bloody mess and pressed the pad quickly back in place over the briskly bleeding vein.

‘Ouch.’ Ben leant over her shoulder. ‘May I take a closer look in a moment?’

‘Of course,’ Melinda said.

‘Nasty bite. We need to clean it thoroughly,’ Lucy said as Ben joined her at the basin and started scrubbing.

‘That vein needs suturing,’ he murmured. ‘Are you happy to do that or do you want me to have a go? Assuming it’s something we can tackle here?’

She shrugged uncertainly. ‘Well, I can have a go,’ she said.

‘Have you got any fine suture material?’

‘I believe so. I don’t suppose, since you’re here…? We might as well take advantage of the head honcho—you’re bound to be better than me, your skills are more up to date than mine.’

He chuckled. ‘I doubt if that’s true, but if you’re happy for me to do it to save sending her to St Piran?’

‘Of course I am. It’s not my arm, of course, but I’m sure Melinda doesn’t want to go to St Piran either.’

‘No, I don’t,’ she said promptly from behind them. ‘I have to get back to the dog, and I don’t care which of you does it so long as one of you does.’

‘Right, let’s take a look at it before we make any rash promises,’ Ben said. Snapping on gloves, he settled down on a stool next to the couch and studied the wound, blotting it frequently with a gauze swab to keep the field clear of blood. ‘Looks sore.’

‘It is sore. Some local wouldn’t hurt before you go poking it.’

He chuckled and met her eyes with a smile that made Lucy feel instantly, absurdly jealous. Dragan, too, unless she was much mistaken, and she wondered what the situation was between them. Something, otherwise he would have done this himself, but what?

Lovers? Friends? Two strangers in a strange land? Dragan was Croatian, and he’d been living in England since his teens. He didn’t talk about his past, but there were shadows in his eyes, and as for Melinda, although Lucy knew little about her past there was an air of quiet dignity about her that hinted at breeding. Yet even so, she was open and friendly and down-
to-earth, and anyone more lacking in airs and graces she could hardly imagine.

She looked up at Dragan to say something, and found him watching her, his brooding eyes thoughtful. Then his eyes dropped to Ben, and back to her, and she thought, Good grief, is it so obvious? Do I have a sign on my bump that says,
Child of Ben Carter
on it?

Or was she just reading something that didn’t exist into his expression?

‘Lucy, can we put a cuff on the arm to cut off this blood supply? And can I have some saline to irrigate this, please?’ Ben asked, and she stopped worrying about Dragan and what he was thinking and concentrated on doing her job—or rather helping Ben do his, which she had to admit he was doing beautifully.

He numbed the area and sutured the vessel so neatly Lucy could only watch in awe, then he cleaned the wound thoroughly and released the cuff to check his suturing had worked. ‘Good,’ he murmured, and trimmed away the little flaps of skin that had lost their blood supply and drew the edges of the wound together with Steristrips. The whole thing had only taken him a few minutes.

‘There,’ he said, flexing his shoulders and nodding in satisfaction. ‘That should sort you out. I can’t suture the skin because of the high risk of infection, but the tape should hold it together well enough. Keep it dry, though—and I think you should have a broad-spectrum antibiotic. They’ve discovered bugs in dog bites that they didn’t know infected humans, so I like to provide a broader cover than a simple penicillin type. Lucy, could I have a sterile non-adherent dressing, please?’

‘Sure.’ She handed him the pack, found the tape and helped him dress the wound.

‘OK,’ he said, sitting back with a smile. ‘Hopefully it’ll heal fast, but I’m afraid you might end up with a scar.’

Melinda shrugged and smiled. ‘It won’t be the first—occupational hazard. Thank you, Ben. Now I can get back to my patient.’

‘How’s your tetanus?’ Lucy asked, and she laughed.

‘Well and truly up to date. I got bitten last year. You’d think I’d learn but apparently not.’

Ben chuckled. ‘Right, Lucy had better give you your prescription—and you’ll need painkillers. Something with codeine, probably, and a non-steroidal. And look out for reddening, fever, swelling, shivering and anything else unusual in the next week. OK?’

‘OK. And thank you so much. Right, now I
must
get back to this dog.’

‘You should get someone else to do it,’ Dragan said, frowning, but she brushed his suggestion aside.

‘No. She’s frightened, that’s all. She’s only young, and she was hurt. She’s not vicious. I’ll get a nurse to help me, we’ll be fine.’

He muttered something unintelligible and foreign under his breath. ‘I should be here, we’re meant to be having a meeting, but you haven’t got your car,’ he said to Melinda, and Lucy shook her head and handed over the prescription.

‘Don’t worry, Dragan, you give her a lift back. We’ve talked it all through and, anyway, I’ve got a surgery starting in a few minutes. We’ll catch up tomorrow and I’ll fill you in, and we’ll schedule another meeting in a week or two.’

He nodded and, shaking Ben’s hand and thanking him, he ushered Melinda out, leaving them alone.

She was about to offer him more tea when Ben glanced at
his watch. ‘Right, I suppose I ought to shoot off. I’ll pick you up tonight—from here? Six-thirty?’

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was him picking her up from the surgery when her father was likely to be lurking around. ‘I’ll meet you somewhere at seven. Your house?’

He nodded. ‘Fine. Do you still know the way?’

Know it? She’d almost worn out the road, toing and froing, desperate to see him and yet unable to bring herself to ring the bell and tell him she’d made a mistake about them not being together. And then she’d found out she was pregnant, and she had been wearing out the road for another reason, trying to screw up the courage to tell him that.

‘Yes, I know the way,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you there. And make it eight. That’ll give me time to get home and eat something.’

‘No. I’ll feed you.’

‘Seven-thirty, then,’ she agreed, because for some perverse reason she wanted to go home after her surgery, shower and change into something—well, something else. Something pretty. Something that didn’t make her feel like a heffalump.

She walked him back down to Reception, sent him on his way and went into her consulting room, watching him through the window as he got into his BMW and drove away.

It was nearly five. The lights were on in the village, twinkling all around the harbour and giving it a cosy feel, and she could imagine how it must be to enter the harbour mouth and see the lights of home ahead of you.

Safe. Reassuring.

And unaccountably she thought of Ben. Her eyes tracked to his car, following the lights out of the village, along
Harbour Road, up Bridge Street and past her front door, out of sight.

Two and a half hours, she told herself, and felt a little shiver of something she hadn’t felt for a very long time.

‘Kate?’

The knock on the door came again, and Kate opened it to find Nick standing there, hands rammed deep into his pockets, a brooding look on his face. She frowned in concern.

‘Nick—hi. What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, I was just— I’ve been clearing the last of the things out of the house. It seems so odd—end of an era. The agent’s expecting a good turn-out at the auction, but I’ve told him to lower the reserve. He was putting a high one on with a view to marketing it in the spring if it doesn’t go, but I told him no. I just want it gone.’

‘And you’re feeling lost.’

‘Not at all. Has to be done,’ he said briskly.

But Kate knew him better than he knew himself, she sometimes thought, and she knew just how hard he’d be finding this. His mother’s family home, the place he’d been born and raised in, the house his father had been living in at his death. The sale had been a long time coming, but he’d got there in the end. Maybe he’d always imagined retiring there with Annabel in the future, but of course that wouldn’t happen now, and the pointlessness of owning it had gradually come home to him.

Poor Nick. He’d lost so much. ‘I’m sure the sale will be a great success,’ she said just as briskly. ‘Some Londoner who wants to divide their time—someone with a family who’ll come down and spend quality time together, bring it to life
again. Just what it needs, and you’ll be able to take a nice long holiday on the proceeds. Got time for coffee?’

‘I suppose so. Thanks—yes, coffee would be lovely.’

He followed her through to the kitchen and propped himself up against the island unit, watching her while she made their drinks. ‘Where’s Jem?’ he asked.

‘In bed—Nick, it’s nearly ten.’

‘Is it?’ He sounded startled, and checked his watch disbelievingly. ‘So it is. I’m sorry—want me to go?’

‘No, you’re fine,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and sit down.’

She handed him his coffee and led him through to the sitting room. He sat beside her on the sofa, propping his feet on the box that served as a coffee-table and resting his head back with a sigh. ‘I’m bushed,’ he confessed.

‘Of course you are. Clearing the house was always going to be hard. You should have asked for help.’

‘No.’

Nothing else, just the one word. Then he sat up straighter and looked down into his coffee. ‘Do you know where Lucy is?’

‘At home in bed, I imagine, if she’s got any sense.’

‘Her car’s not at the surgery. It’s always there.’

‘Perhaps she’s out meeting friends. Maybe they’ve gone out for a meal or something. She sometimes goes out with Chloe and Lauren.’

‘But if she’s not—if she’s in trouble…’

‘Nick, she’s fine.’

‘I’m going to ring her.’

‘No. Let me do it. If you really insist, let me do it. She won’t bite my head off.’

She put her coffee down, got up and went into the kitchen.
Quite unnecessarily, because it was a cordless phone, but she wanted Nick out of earshot. ‘Lucy, your father’s worried,’ she said when Lucy answered. ‘He noticed your car wasn’t there. I said you’d probably gone out for a meal with friends.’

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Lucy said, ‘Um—yes, I have.’

‘I thought so,’ Kate said, reading between the lines. ‘You enjoy yourself—and don’t worry about him.’

There was another tiny hesitation, then Lucy said softly, ‘Kate, keep him off my case.’

‘Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Thanks.’

Kate hung up and went back into the sitting room.

‘Well?’

‘She’s out for dinner with friends—I told you she would be.’

‘She never goes out without telling me. I wonder if she’s with the father?’ Very likely, Kate thought, knowing that Lauren was out with Martin, Alison’s little one wasn’t well, and Chloe was on call, but kept it firmly to herself as he went on, ‘If I knew who it was who’d left her to give birth and bring up her child alone, I’d hang him out to dry. How she got herself in this mess—’

‘Oh, Nick, leave the girl alone. She’s a mature, independent professional woman. She’s perfectly capable of fighting her own battles.’

‘Is she?’

‘Yes, of course she is.’

‘So how did she end up like this? And how’s she going to manage? For God’s sake, I was only eighteen when Annabel got pregnant. We managed. And it was twins! And then we had Edward far too soon afterwards, but still we coped. We
stuck together, we made a family—for all the good it’s done,’ he added despairingly. ‘Lucy’s pregnant and alone, Jack’s got some bee in his bonnet about cosmetic surgery, he’s been running around London with one tarty little it-girl after another and won’t speak to me, and Edward can’t hack it in the army. So why the hell did we bother? Sometimes I think it’s a good thing Annabel isn’t around to see it.’