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‘Her grandparents, of course.’ Then Harriet clutched her chest and her colour faded. ‘Ooh… I think it’s starting again.’
‘Let’s get you through to Intensive Care,’ Blake snapped, annoyed with himself for being diverted. He motioned to the nurse at the head of the trolley. ‘Now.’
Blake refused point-blank to think about Nell for the rest of the evening. Not once. Or not once very much.
Harriet refused to be transferred to Blairglen. Well, why should she leave Sandy Ridge? She was sure Dr Blake would look after her beautifully, just as well as any of the clever doctors at Blairglen, and she thought she was paying Blake a compliment by staying put.
As did all the locals. They refused to take themselves to the major hospital, supremely confident that Dr Blake would look after them.
Dr Blake and whose army? he thought wearily for what must be the thousandth time since he’d taken over here.
But… ‘We don’t need another doctor,’ he found himself telling Grace Mayne as he finally had a cup of tea with the old fisherwoman. Grace’s husband had died just a couple of months ago and she was desperately lonely. Her only son had drowned when he’d been little more than a teenager, and now she had no one.
Blake had liked Grace at first sight. She was tough, wiry, belligerent, and as huge-hearted a woman as he’d ever met. The weeks since her husband’s death had cast her into deep depression, so Blake had found himself dropping in frequently—just to see her. Tonight the last thing he wanted was to socialise, but he forced himself to pause, take a seat at the old lady’s kitchen table and accept her hospitality.
The alternative might be worse, he thought. He’d watched Grace’s face as they’d buried her husband, and he found himself increasingly concerned as to her welfare. There’d been one tragedy after another in the old lady’s life. This last death had left her feeling desolate—so desolate that he wondered how she could keep going. He watched her take her fishing boat out through the heads, and each time he saw the little boat make the run he wondered whether she’d come back.
And if she didn’t, he’d feel dreadful. So he made time to call and chat, even though a million other things were pressing. Tonight the most obvious thing to talk about was Nell. After all, the rest of the town was talking about her. Why not Blake?
And Grace was definitely interested. ‘Nell McKenzie…’ The woman’s sea-bleached eyes narrowed. ‘You mean the lass who was brought up here with Doc and Mrs McKenzie?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I remember when Nell left for university,’ she said slowly. ‘Haven’t seen her since.’
‘No one has. But it seems she wants to come back here to live.’
Grace thought it through and shook her head in disbelief. ‘I don’t know why. The town made life miserable for her.’
‘Did it?’ Blake was pleased. He’d caused a spark of interest, which was more than the old lady had shown for a long time.
‘Yeah. Or her grandparents did and we didn’t object.’ Grace stared reflectively into her nearly empty teacup and, to Blake’s astonishment, something akin to a smile played around her mouth. ‘Nell McKenzie. Well, well.’
‘Well, well.’ Blake cast a curious glance across the table. ‘You sound like you know her fairly well.’
‘No. No one does. No one was allowed to know her.’
‘Why not?’
But Grace wasn’t answering. She was staring into the dregs of her tea like she was staring into the past, but the smile remained on her face.
At least she wasn’t suicidal tonight, Blake thought thankfully, rising to leave. He’d given her something to think about, even though he didn’t understand why she was so interested.
But at least she was interested, and for that Blake could only be thankful.
It was after midnight when Blake drove home from the last house call and it was all he could do to keep himself awake. He opened the car windows wide, he turned the radio up full blast, but he knew he was still in danger of going to sleep at the wheel.
Back at the hospital he checked on Harriet who was sleeping soundly, hooked up to the heart monitor. If he could keep her quiet she might well stay that way until morning.
It seemed there was a block of some kind, he thought as he examined the results of his tests. There was no evidence of heart-muscle injury on the cardiograph or in the blood tests, but she had a very slow pulse.
She needs a cardiologist, Blake thought, and maybe a pacemaker and he knew it’d take him hours the next morning to convince her that he couldn’t fit her with a pacemaker on his own. She’d have to go to Blairglen.
Finally, almost asleep on his feet, he pushed open the door between the hospital and his living quarters. And he stopped dead.
Nell was waiting for him.
‘You’ve been ages,’ she told him. ‘I knew you’d be late but this is ridiculous.’
‘What?’ He was so exhausted he was having trouble taking it all in.
First of all, Nell had been transformed. No longer in purple overalls, she was now dressed in a bright crimson, floor-length bathrobe. It had rich burgundy lining, it was big enough to wrap around her twice, and she was curled up on the sofa with her bare toes poking out, looking like…
Looking like he didn’t know what.
And what on earth was she sitting on? Where was his horrible settee? Where was his dining setting?
The sofa Nell was sitting on was enormous. It was ancient, a great mass of soft velvet cushions. Like her amazing dressing-gown, it was vivid crimson. It was the sort of sofa you just wanted to sink in and…
And nothing!
‘What have you done to my house?’ he managed, and if his voice came out strangled who could blame him?
‘It’s our house,’ she reminded him gently. ‘As an employed doctor in the town I have just as many rights to this place as you do. Don’t you like it?’ She gazed up at him, a picture of injured innocence. ‘I’ve gone to so much trouble. And do you like my dressing-gown?’ She beamed down at her splendid self. ‘This belonged to Grandpa. Such a waste.’
‘But—’
‘I’ve been so busy…’
‘I can see that.’ He was still taking everything in. What was new?
Everything was new.
The vinyl furniture had disappeared completely. There was now the amazing sofa and a couple of great squishy armchairs. There was a new dining table—or rather an old one—an oak affair that looked as if it had been polished for generations. There were matching dining chairs with scatter cushions. And rugs…three vast Turkish rugs covering almost every available piece of floor space.
There were even pictures on the walls!
‘Did this all come out of your suitcase?’ he enquired, and she chuckled.
‘I just waved my magic wand.’
He glanced at his watch. He’d been away for exactly five hours.
‘You just nipped out to the shops, then. Or called in a decorator?’
‘Well, no.’
‘So would you like to explain?’
‘I went exploring and caught Bob and Henry before they left the hospital.’
He thought that one through. Bob and Henry. He only knew the one Bob and Henry pair. ‘The ambulance drivers?’
‘I know them both from way back,’ she told him. ‘They weren’t ambulance drivers in my day. In fact, I went to school with Bob, and when I showed him the conditions we were expected to live in he was shocked. Both of them were.’
‘He’s given you this stuff?’ Blake’s voice was unbelieving, and Nell giggled.
‘No, silly. It’s from my house.’
‘Your house.’
‘I told you,’ she said patiently. ‘I own a house out on the bluff. It’s ancient, it hasn’t been used for years but it’s full of extremely good stuff. Like this.’ She patted her sofa fondly. ‘I knew it’d be comfortable. I was never allowed to sit on it when I was a kid but, oh, how I wanted to.’
He was distracted—almost—but there were burning questions. ‘How the hell did you get this stuff back here?’
‘The ambulance, of course,’ she said blithely. ‘How else?’
‘You used the ambulance to transport furniture?’ He was gearing himself up to explode.
‘If I hadn’t then I’d have needed the ambulance tomorrow to cart me away for major back repair.’ Her tone was innocence personified. ‘It was a case of preventative medicine, and I’m really good at that. I was determined to get it here, and my little sedan only has a very tiny roof-rack. Anyway, once I explained the situation to Henry and Bob they were only too pleased to help.’ She smiled up at Blake. ‘So we took the stretchers out of the ambulance and went for it. It took us five trips and we’ve only just finished.’
‘And if there’d been an urgent call?’
‘Then they’d have heaved the furniture out and got on with it,’ she told him. ‘Honestly—do you think we’re negligent or something?’
He thought no such thing. He didn’t know what to think. He walked over and sank down into one of the chairs—and promptly stood up again.
One of the cushions had moved! Now it rose, shoving itself to four feet, and it glared at him. What the…?
But Nell was smiling. ‘Um…meet Ernest. Dr Sutherland, Ernest. Ernest, meet Dr Sutherland.’
‘Ernest.’
Who was Ernest? He’d just found out. Blake found himself looking at the most mournful, pathetic bag of bones he’d ever come across in the doggy kingdom. The ancient cocker spaniel, his black and white coat faded with age into indiscriminate grey, was all jowls and floppy ears and huge mournful eyes. He looked up at Blake as if he’d just wounded him to the core.
‘Hey, I didn’t sit on you,’ Blake said before he could help himself. ‘I nearly did but I didn’t.’
The eyes still reproached him.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’
‘Take no notice of him,’ Nell said blithely. ‘Ernest’s greatest skill in life is making people feel guilty, whether they deserve it or not.’
‘He does a great job.’
‘He does.’ Nell grinned. ‘I adopted him because he looked so pathetic. It’s his principal talent and he’s really very good.’ She rose and crossed to give her dog a hug. ‘I’ve had him for five months now. It’s been a guilt trip all the way, yet still I love him.’
Blake was still taking things on board. ‘This is the Ernest that’s going to take up the third bedroom?’
‘Well, I’m not going to sleep with him,’ Nell said, horrified. ‘He snores.’
Blake looked down at the ancient Ernest and he grinned.
‘He looks like the sort of dog who’d snore.’
He got a really, really reproachful canine glare for his pains.
‘Ernest’s very sensitive,’ Nell warned. ‘You might find you have to pay for that remark.’
‘He doesn’t bite?’
‘Bite?’ Nell shook her head in disbelief. She crossed to the little kitchenette and opened the oven door. ‘That requires energy. No, Ernest’s principal way of punishing people is by ignoring them.’
‘I can live with that.’
‘You’ll find you can’t,’ she warned him. ‘It’s very effective. He sort of embellishes his ignoring routine in all sorts of fancy ways. You’ll see. Now… Dinner?’
Ernest was promptly forgotten. ‘Dinner!’
‘You haven’t eaten?’ She turned back to face him. ‘I didn’t see how you could have.’
‘No, but—’
‘Then there’s dinner,’ she told him as if he were stupid. ‘I ate hours ago but I saved half the casserole for you. It’s apricot chicken. Very basic but it is my first night. We stopped off at the all-nighter on our first furniture run so I could throw this together while the boys heaved sofas.’ And then she grinned. ‘I imagine it’s set the town talking. An ambulance parked outside the minimart with a sofa sticking out the back.’
He imagined it might have. He should be angry. But there was apricot chicken casserole. His nose was giving him all sorts of messages, and every one of them was urgent.
And it was sort of funny…
‘I don’t approve,’ he managed, and Nell nodded.
‘Of course you don’t. You’re a very responsible doctor. I can see that. So you don’t approve of ambulances filled with sofas, buying chicken drumsticks and cans of apricots. But you will still eat my casserole?’
He was trying hard not to laugh. For heaven’s sake, she was ridiculous. ‘I might.’
‘Ernest will if you don’t,’ she said cheerfully, and Blake turned and glowered at the dog. Ernest glowered back.
But this was a dog after all. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Blake told him. ‘Not even the scraps.’
‘He’s already eaten,’ Nell said.
‘Chicken casserole?’
‘Dog food. The ambulance and sofa brought that, too. But he’s not fussy and he’s always up for second helpings.’
‘I imagine he might be. That’s quite some paunch.’
‘Now you really are getting personal.’ She scooped the casserole onto a plate and set it down on her gorgeous table. The whole room came together. The aroma of the delicious casserole. The furniture. The dog. The brilliantly dressed woman, heavily pregnant, ladling out food…
