The Surgeon's Blade (27 page)

It all boiled down to sex, he thought, as he geared down on approaching his apartment block. When they were at university together, their sexual relationship had been one of a common healthy appetite. During the years when they were married and both were pursuing their careers, Nigel sensed a cooling and waning on Stella’s part and turned towards extra marital activity among their joint friends, colleagues and quite often his patients. Nigel found Stella’s friends and colleagues to be easy targets. They were often unattached and with healthy sexual cravings of their own. His patients were often more difficult to seduce, but over the years Nigel had found an easy, if prohibited, way round that. He wasn’t a qualified doctor for nothing.

H
But h
aving great sex with Stella was not what Nigel was after. He appreciated having her all right, but because she was free and available, there wasn’t the challenge that he so enjoyed. Neither was it illegal.

He parked the car and made his way over to the lift. He clutched a bouquet of summer lilies: tall, wicked-looking spikes with an exotic and heady perfume. Stella adored presents of any sort, and Nigel hoped the simple gift would go half-way to placating her once he explained he needed to go out. If not, he thought with a shrug of the shoulders, then it was too bad. Despite their newfound rapport, Stella wasn’t what he needed that evening.

She must have been watching from the living room window.  Before he found time to insert his key, she threw open the door and exclaimed with pleasure on catching sight of the flowers.

“Darling, how wonderful! After roses, lilies are always my favourite. How are you? Had a good day?” She enveloped him in a waft of scent and kissed him full on the mouth. He suppressed a laugh as he contemplated what her reaction would have been if he had said they were not for her but for Libby. She was dressed in a short red skirt showing inches of curvy thigh and a skimpy, almost see-through, top.

“Not too bad. It’s good to finish early. I could do with a drink though.”

“Come through while I fix us one. What’ll you have – a whisky or gin?”

“To tell you the truth, I’d like a beer. There’s some in the bottom of the fridge.”

Nigel dumped his case in the hall and followed Stella towards the kitchen. He noticed she had prepared a tray of canapés and immediately felt a little guilty because of what he was about to tell her.

“They look good. Are they for us or are you expecting others?” he said, indicating the display.

“Silly, of course they’re just for us. I’d have told you if we were expecting company.” She snuggled nearer as she handed him his beer, her unfettered, full breasts brushing against his arm. “I thought we’d stay in for once and forego dinner out. I’m going to cook fillet steak for us. How does that sound, darling?”

“It sounds wonderful,” he said, taking the beer and walking through to the living room. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to cry off as I’m going out tonight.” He crossed over to the huge picture window glancing down at the scene below.

Stella joined him, pouting at his words. “Oh Nigel. Can’t it wait? I was so looking forward to having a quiet evening in. We’ve been out to so many restaurants, and I wanted to play the little wife for you tonight.”

Nigel smiled, knowing full well what she had in mind. At any other time it would have been appealing. How on earth was he going to tell her just who he was seeing? He tensed. This was becoming ridiculous, he was an adult. She knew about Libby. She had known about her almost from the first time they had gone out together. What was the point in being divorced if Stella still acted as if they were still married?

“Sorry, darling. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, but business can’t be helped. Tell you what. We’ll have the canapés, and I’ll leave here as late as I can. How about that? Say about seven thirty?” he said in a smooth voice while casting a quick look at his Rolex. “That gives us a nice relaxing couple of hours, hmm?”

“I suppose if it
is
work, then I can’t begrudge you the time.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I can always go over what I’m delivering tomorrow.”

“Of course. Your paper on ‘
Caesarean section for the primigravida mother and the psychological ramifications’.
I’m looking forward to your lecture. It’s surprising, as in the States, Caesarean rates are actually falling, yet here in the UK, they’re considering allowing first-time mothers the choice of either a C-section or a natural birth. I would have thought it would be the other way round.”

Nigel wanted to draw her away from the real reason he was going out that night. Being a coward, he preferred an easy life, and if Stella thought he was meeting a work buddy, then so much the better. “Come and sit down, tell me all about
your
day.” He patted the seat next to him on the sofa and drew her down. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

~~~~~

Gunning the Porsche down the road, Nigel knew he was going to be late. After two glasses of chilled Chablis and a fat marijuana joint, Stella had become been wildly amorous. Once she sat astride him, and he realised she wasn't wearing any panties, he knew he was lost. He had been aroused at once, and as she ground herself down with complete and utter abandon onto him, he ejaculated within minutes. Relaxed after the sex, it was hard to drag himself towards the bedroom and shower. Stella was becoming a real sex fiend, and he almost expected her to follow him into the tiled wet room and demand he make passionate love to her once again. He tore off his remaining few clothes and stepped under the hot water, a fully-pressurised jet playing down on his head.

He was going to get away with it but only just – Stella was ugly when jealous. For some reason, she didn’t recognise him and Libby as an item. Initially, when Nigel had tried to explain that they were going to live together permanently, Stella either changed the subject or laughed.

“How many times have I heard you say that, my love? You always return to me. You’ve been shagging your way through the women of the world ever since I first met you. But it never means anything because you never get them to say 'yes' and agree to move in with you, so you always stay home. Darling, it hardly matters now. I’m well used to your little games. So let’s stop pretending, eh?”

How many times had he come near to it? Really near? He tried to remember, and the years clouded his mind. He couldn’t remember whom he had planned his life with. This time though, he was going to make it with Libby. He patted the pocket of his jacket, making sure he had remembered to bring that item that would make tonight extra special. The song was still going through his head as he walked up her path to the front door to her ground-floor flat, “
You're mine, you belong to me, you, I will never free you, you're here with me to stay, you're mine, you are mine completely.”

He rapped smartly on her door and turned round to look at her tiny front garden. He couldn’t remember which one it had been, but one of his earlier loves had been just like Libby. He remembered her short blonde hair and her slim, well-toned body. She loved gardens too; and she was a nurse. He frowned as he tried to think more clearly...in fact most of his serious loves had been blonde and…nurses. He smiled. One could say he had a real thing about blonde nursing staff.

The sound of a bolt being pushed back made him turn to face the door, and there she stood. His Libby! His darling girl!

“Nigel, you’re here.”

He smiled as deep a smile as he could, briefly wondering why she looked so pale and tense. “Hello, darling, sorry I’m late. I’m so glad we’ve finally managed to get an evening together. Are you going to invite me in? I don’t really want to kiss you on the doorstep in front of the whole neighbourhood.”

Libby stood aside as he walked into her home. She cast a wild look back out at the near street, but it stood empty. There was no one around that she could see.

Chapter 37

Jem couldn’t understand it. First Peter had bolted from the pub like a rabbit from its hole, and now Robert had just phoned to say he couldn’t make it after all. Robert didn’t even pause long enough to ask whether he had found anything out either. Frustrated, Jem downed his unfinished pint, strode over to the bar and ordered another.

“It’s nearly time, mate,” the barman said. “But seeing as I know ya, just remember you bought this pint ten minutes ago, see? I don’t want to lose me licence. What happened to your friend? He left rather sudden like, didn’t he?”

“Mmm. Suddenly remembered he had to be somewhere else. Never mind, I’ll see him tomorrow at work, and we can finish our conversation then.”

The barman nodded and carried on drying his glasses, chatting up the barmaid with his easy banter while she rang up the till for that night’s takings.

Jem finished his pint in record time and slapped his glass down on the bar. “See you,” he called and made for the exit. The fresh tangy air from the Hamble River hit him as he wandered over to his car and unlocked the door. The night was calm and as black as a tar pit.
I wonder why Peter ran off like that, he mused. One minute we were talking perfectly naturally, or as naturally as you could with Peter and the next, he was off like a whippet.

Jem concentrated on what they had been saying. He couldn’t remember saying anything inflammatory. Peter had been looking out of the window, balancing on two chair legs like a kid. Then suddenly, wham, he was off.

Jem pondered over the evening some more. Had Peter seen something or someone outside the pub to catch his attention? Or had he simply wanted to get away and be on his own? He shook his head. No, something triggered Peter’s reaction. What had he seen that was so important that it made him run off like that? A shiver ran down Jem’s spine.

Chapter 38

The house was in complete darkness when Robert arrived except for a dim porch light. He let himself in and moved quietly down the hallway into the kitchen. Feeling around the wall, he felt for the switch and was rewarded when the kitchen was flooded in bright light. The clock on the cooker said it was getting on for midnight, and he wasn’t surprised finding the house deserted at this hour. Diana wasn’t a night owl, and she escaped to bed far earlier than before Poppy's birth.

Since her arrival, he had become used to the kitchen's different odours. Diana enjoyed cooking as much as he did, and they both relished in trying out new recipes on each other. Tonight had been no exception. Robert could still smell the aroma left over from a duck dish she had experimented with. The flavour had been both aromatic and delicate, and Robert found himself wishing his long departed Morwenna could have been there sharing in the fun. He stifled a sigh. For the first time since his family’s horrific accident, he felt he was finally coming to terms with life as it now was. Once upon a time, if anyone had suggested that having another woman and her baby sharing his house would be beneficial, he would have laughed in their face. Now he was quite sure Diana and Poppy were balm for his deeply hidden anguish.

Meeting Libby was something else, and he found her proximity disturbing. Thinking of Libby, he turned his thoughts to the evening. He felt bad that he had let Jem down by not meeting him at the pub. Under the circumstances it couldn’t be helped. He wondered if Peter had known or seen anything perhaps.