Emergency at Bayside (13 page)

‘And quacks like a duck!’ Kathy finished triumphantly.

‘Vince was just leaving.’ Meg flashed Vince a look. ‘For good.’

‘I am allowed to be concerned,’ Vince said from hallway the as Meg finally ushered him out. ‘We were together for a long time, and they were good times, Meg. You know that as well as I do.’

Meg closed the door behind Vince. Leaning her head against it, she took a deep cleansing breath before turning to Kathy. She had expected a sympathetic grin, or at the very least a look of understanding, not the suspicious, even hostile stare that was coming from the usually easygoing Kathy.

‘What the hell are you doing, Meg?’

‘He just turned up out of the blue, honestly,’ Meg said somewhat taken aback by the accusing note in Kathy’s voice.

‘I didn’t ask what Vince was up to. I couldn’t care less about him and neither should you.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Then what were you doing letting him in?’

Meg shrugged. ‘What was I supposed to do? Discuss things in the hall so all the neighbours could hear?’

‘You shouldn’t have anything to discuss.’

‘We don’t. Look, Kathy, he just found out about the accident. He was worried.’

‘I bet he didn’t tell his wife he was dropping by.’

‘We were together a long time; he was bound to be concerned,’ Meg reasoned, but Kathy was having none of it.

Kathy, happy-go-lucky Kathy, who never got rattled, never, ever got cross, was suddenly on her feet,
literally shaking with rage. ‘Oh, grow up, Meg. Just grow up, will you?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Instantly Meg was on the defensive. She had truly done nothing wrong and couldn’t believe how Kathy was reacting.

‘Exactly that. The best thing that’s ever happened to you has just rung Jake. He’s asked him to go over—wants to move things on in his life.’

Meg shook her head, bemused, not understanding where Jake came into all this.

Kathy threw up her hands in despair. ‘Flynn’s sorting out his house—clearing things away. He doesn’t want to upset you with constant reminders of Lucy when you come over tonight. And what are you doing? Having a cosy afternoon tea with Vince, that’s what!’

‘Kathy, will you listen to me?’ Meg’s quiet deliberate tones were such a stark contrast to Kathy’s angry rantings that she actually snapped her mouth closed, her suspicious, angry eyes turning to Meg.

‘Vince arrived two minutes before you. I honestly had no idea he was coming.’

‘Honestly?’

‘Kathy, this is me you’re talking to. I’m your sister—have I ever lied to you?’

Kathy sniffed. ‘Yes.’ Her anger was abating and Meg saw a flash of the old Kathy as a reluctant smile wobbled on her lips. ‘You told me you’d taken those books back to the library and I found them under your bed.’

‘Seven years ago,’ Meg pointed out. ‘I meant about anything important.’

Grumbling, Kathy picked a bag off the bench. She selected a pastry for herself first then tossed the rest of the bag to Meg. ‘I still had to pay the fine.’ Closing her eyes for a second, Kathy let out a little sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Meg, I just overreacted—seeing that creep here, knowing the hell he’s put you through. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.’

‘I’m not going to get hurt,’ Meg said resolutely. ‘At least not if I’ve got any say in it.’ She took a small bite of her croissant. Funny, but after seeing Vince she suddenly didn’t feel so hungry.

‘Are you going to tell Flynn?’ Kathy asked. ‘That Vince was here, I mean.’

Meg swallowed the pastry, it tasted like cardboard. ‘I don’t know. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, but if what you told me about him clearing out the house is true, I don’t think it would be exactly great timing. Are you going to tell Jake?’

Kathy looked at her sister thoughtfully for a moment. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘But I’m not covering up for you, Meg, and don’t ever expect me to. I just don’t think Flynn needs it, today of all days.’

* * *

‘Meg.’ He kissed her warmly and fully, right there on the doorstep. ‘I was just about to ring and see where the hell you’d got to.’

Meg looked at her watch. ‘I’m not even late.’

Flynn pulled her inside. ‘I guess I just missed you.’

The first thing Meg noticed, or rather didn’t notice when she stepped inside was his wedding photo. It was still on display, she saw when he led her through to the living room, but on the dresser. His eyes
followed hers and she felt his hand tighten around her fingers.

‘I can’t just put it away.’

‘I’d never expect you to.’

He cleared his throat. ‘I just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.’ He showed her around briefly, depositing her bag on the large double bed, and even though Meg had never been in the bedroom before, a woman’s instinct told her that the freshly polished smell and the incredibly clean dressing table were the results of a poignant afternoon. Her instinct was confirmed when she excused herself to the loo.

The picture was still on the wall, but the incense burner was pushed back a bit and the perfume bottles had been moved from the bathroom shelf. Maybe she shouldn’t have looked, maybe she was being nosy, but even as she opened the bathroom cabinet Meg knew what she would find. There, nestled amongst the combs, shaving brushes and aftershaves, were Lucy’s perfume bottles. Sure, he’d moved things around, tried not to overwhelm her, but she knew that when push had come to shove he simply hadn’t been able to do it. Taking a bottle down, Meg sniffed at it for a moment, her eyes welling with tears as she inhaled the heady fragrance. Tears for a young life lost. For all Lucy had lost and for all the pain Flynn had been through.

Oh, Flynn.

All she wanted was for Flynn to be honest—not just with her, but also with himself.

But honesty was a two-way street. Replacing the bottle, Meg took a deep breath, and as she headed
down the stairs her mind was whirring. She couldn’t start with lies, no matter how white, no matter how small. A lie by omission was still a lie, and it was the one thing she dreaded Flynn doing to her.

He had to know.

He handed her a glass of red wine as soon as she stepped in the kitchen. ‘I didn’t know how you took your coffee,’ he admitted. ‘And if you don’t like red wine, we might as well call it quits now. Joking,’ he added seeing her serious face.

‘I know.’ She took a sip. ‘It’s delicious.’ She didn’t know how to start, wasn’t sure that she wanted to. But all Meg knew for certain was that she had to.

As it turned out, Flynn made the opening for her.

‘I saw Jake this afternoon. He said Kathy was heading your way. How was she? Still on cloud nine after last night?’

‘Not exactly,’ Meg muttered, swirling the wine in her glass. ‘Flynn, there’s something I have to tell you.’

‘Sure.’ He was staring at her so openly, not a trace of concern on his face. Meg had the same feeling that plagued her when she was about to give a baby an injection. That rotten feeling as they smiled at you, trusting and gorgeous, not remotely aware that you were about to stick a two-inch syringe into their fat dimpled legs.

‘Vince came over this afternoon.’

‘Vince?’ His eyebrows creased for a moment. ‘You mean ‘‘bloody Vince’’?’

‘The very same.’

‘Are you all right?’

Meg looked at him, a touch startled by his question. ‘I guess so. It was just a shock. I thought it was Kathy when I opened the door, and there he was.’ She took a large slug of her wine. ‘Apparently he’d heard about my accident—said that he was coming to see how I was doing.’

‘A bit late,’ Flynn snorted, but the scorn was directed at Vince, not her.

‘I know.’ She simply couldn’t believe how well he was taking it. ‘I got rid of him as quickly as I could.’

‘And he didn’t give you a hard time?’

Meg shook her head.

‘Good. So why’s Kathy upset?’

Meg was staring at his back now. He was pulling open an overhead cupboard and grabbed a large bag of potato chips, tossing them in a bowl as she tentatively continued.

‘I think she thought it was a bit inappropriate.’

‘Inappropriate? Has she been taking lessons from your mum?’ Flynn laughed, really laughed then, and unbelievably, after all her angst of just a few moments ago, Meg found herself joining in.

‘She was just worried you might be upset.’

‘Had you rung him the second I’d gone, begged him to come over and jumped into bed with him,
then
I’d be upset.’

‘How do you know that I didn’t?’

Flynn shrugged. ‘If you did, why would you be here?’ He came over and, taking her wine glass from her, picked her up and deposited her none too gently on the bench, pushing his groin into hers, Meg found her legs instinctively coiling around him as he
quietened her with a deep, slow kiss. ‘Meg,’ he said, pulling away, cradling her face with his hands. ‘You don’t have to earn my trust; you’ve already got it. Now, enough about Vince already,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s think about dinner.’ He gestured to the fridge door. ‘Pick a menu.’

Never had she seen so many takeaway menus. Indian, Thai, Chinese, Mexican—a cultural melting pot right there on his fridge. ‘Or,’ he said seductively, ‘we could skip the main and head straight for dessert.’

‘What is there?’ Licking her lips, Meg suddenly realised she was really hungry. Her appetite was eternally whetted, though, when Flynn reached over and pulled open the fridge door. Taking out a can of instant whipped cream, he pulled off the lid with his teeth, shaking the can vigorously as Meg let out a gurgle of excited laughter.

‘It’s anything you want it to be,’ he said in a seductive drawl. ‘The possibilities are endless.’

W
AKING
up next to Flynn was, Meg decided, enough of an incentive to turn her into a morning person. Instead of slamming her hand on the snooze button and burying her head further under the pillow, she lay for a somnolent moment, revelling in the warmth of his body, the bliss of feeling his arm around her, recalling the tender, sweet love they had made.

‘Hey, sleepy head.’

Meg opened her eyes, the delicious sight of Flynn better than any dream. ‘I wasn’t asleep.’

‘Fooled me.’

It was the tiny glimpses of domesticity Meg adored, like listening to him in the shower as she prepared breakfast. Not exactly a feast of culinary delights—all Flynn’s larder stretched to was bread, some dubious-looking jam and a scraping of butter— but taking it back to bed and sharing it with a newly showered Flynn, Meg might just as well have been eating at a five-star hotel, it tasted so divine.

But the real world was out there, waiting, and as the clock edged past seven Flynn reluctantly got up from the crumpled bed and started to dress. ‘I’d better step on it.’

‘Can’t you be late?’

‘Charge Nurse O’Sullivan!’ Flynn mimicked Jess’s strong Irish accent. ‘Is that any example to set the
students?’ Reverting to his own gorgeous deep voice, he removed the breakfast tray from beside her on the bed. ‘I’ll see you for your late shift. Don’t lift a finger. I reckon you’ve earned a rest—and anyway the cleaner comes in this morning.’

‘You’ve got a cleaner?’

‘Best money I’ve ever spent.’ He laughed. ‘She’s an old sourpuss, so don’t bother with small talk.’

‘So why do you keep her on if she’s so miserable?’

‘She can be as miserable as she likes,’ Flynn said glibly, knotting his tie with ease. ‘She’s brilliant at housework, and it’s not as if I see her much. The perfect woman, really.’

He gave a wink to show he was joking before leaning over and kissing her goodbye unhurriedly. She could smell the sharp citrus of his shampoo, the musky undertones of his aftershave, and she thought her insides would melt.

‘How am I going to keep my hands off you?’ he murmured. Resting back on the pillow, Meg half dozed as he filled up his pockets with pagers, a wallet and the usual collection of pens and loose change. ‘Just let the answer-machine get the phone.’

‘Mmm,’ Meg murmured.

‘And, Meg, maybe don’t say anything to anyone about us just yet.’ Her eyes flicked open as he spoke. ‘At work, I mean.’

‘I wasn’t exactly going to walk in with a megaphone.’ Sitting up, Meg wrapped the sheet around her breasts, trying and failing to read the expression on his face. In truth she had already decided the same thing—it was just too early and too soon to be the
focus of the hospital gossip columns—but hearing Flynn suddenly so cagey was all too painfully reminiscent of Vince.

‘I know you weren’t,’ Flynn replied reasonably. ‘There’s just a couple of things going on—I haven’t time to go into it now.’ He glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘I’m seriously behind already. I’ll explain tonight. You do understand, don’t you?’

Meg nodded, attempting a bright smile, but she didn’t understand. How could she? Hadn’t Vince always told her to ring his mobile, not to blab too much about them, only allowed a select few friends to see them together? With the benefit of hindsight it was so easy to see why. To see how easily she had been lied to, to see exactly where she had been a fool.

And it wasn’t going to happen again.

It was almost a relief when the front door closed. When she could wipe the fake smile off and attempt to gain control of her jumbled thoughts.

Flynn was nothing like Vince.

Nothing.

She was in his house, for goodness’ sake, and she would see him at work. Maybe he wanted to be the one to tell his boss—wanted to let the land lie a while so it didn’t sound like a brief fling. Dr Campbell was a stickler for the old school ways, and Flynn might be an independent professional, but he still had to toe the line and be seen to do the right thing.

Meg had almost convinced herself, almost assured herself that she was overreacting, reading far too much into a harmless few words. Flynn loved her— he had told her so, and Meg believed him.

Then the telephone rang.

Even if she’d wanted to answer it she couldn’t have as the answer-machine picked it up on the second ring. She lay there smiling as she listened to Flynn’s rather flip, short message, but her smile vanished as she heard the young, slightly breathless but completely unmistakable voice of Carla on the line.