The One Man to Heal Her Page 14

  So now everyone knows about us, Alex thought, seeing the knowing smile on the receptionist’s face.

  As Will had said, Port still had the heart of a small town.

  Will!

  They talked very little on the drive home, Alex content just to be near him. But once on the ferry she turned to him and smiled.

  ‘Thank you for doing this—I was too tired to drive, and probably too tired to get the numbers right on my new security system.’

  ‘Worry not, for Superman is here,’ he said, leaning across to kiss her cheek before putting the vehicle into gear to drive off.

  It made her laugh but as he drove the short distance to her home she studied the man who’d not only brought laughter into her life but had also taught her how to love.

  Because it had to be love, the warmth inside her, the slightly dizzy way she felt when she was with him, and the way her nerves tightened and her toes curled when he smiled at her…

  So she stood close to him as he disarmed the alarm and sat close to him on the deck as they had a drink and ate the dinner he’d ordered.

  They talked about her day, about Adam and his parents, about everything and nothing, although Alex knew it was chat.

  ‘So, what is it you want to say?’ she finally asked, and her heart squeezed tight when Will hesitated.

  ‘It’s about Charlotte,’ he admitted. ‘I need to spend any spare time I have with her this week, but I’m off duty next weekend and I wondered…’

  He stared out across the river at the lights of the houses opposite then looked towards the centre of the town—towards his house and his family.

  ‘Wondered?’ Alex prompted, although she was sure she knew what was coming.

  ‘Wondered if you’d like to do something with us. Go to the beach or the park or just have breakfast at the surf club, or maybe I could make dinner at my place, or—’

  Alex pressed her fingers to his lips.

  ‘I do get it,’ she told him. ‘You want me to meet Charlotte and, more importantly, her to meet me.’

  She hoped she sounded more composed than she felt, because this was it, the test.

  It wouldn’t be about Charlotte liking her—that wouldn’t happen until they knew each other better and Charlotte was assured Alex wouldn’t steal her father.

  No, it was about commitment, and whether the feelings she had for Will were real enough to be a strong foundation for a family—Will, Charlotte and herself.

  And later…

  The thought of having Will’s baby spread sheer happiness through her body, but she’d leapt too far ahead.

  And Will was talking again, his nerves obvious as he practically babbled about it being up to her, and how he didn’t want to foist Charlotte on her, and—

  This time she stopped him with a kiss.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, when they broke apart. ‘You decide how best you want to do it and I’ll fit in. Perhaps you’d like to bring her here, we could go out in the tinnie. Dad always kept a couple of little life-jackets for the neighbours’ kids or grandkids, and Buddy’s good with kids—he seems to like them, lets them pat him and sits on their shoulders.’

  ‘Oh, Alex,’ he said, and he put his arms around her, hauling her to her feet so he could kiss her properly. ‘That would be wonderful!’

  The kiss deepened, which led to moving like some clumsy four-legged animal up the stairs and into the room by the river.

  Alex pushed herself away, excitement overcoming her tiredness.

  ‘I need to shower,’ she said. ‘I won’t be long.’

  She saw Will’s face and saw some of the uncertainty that had been in his words earlier.

  Very carefully, she took his hand and led him into the bathroom, slowly stripping off his clothes, letting him remove hers, hoping he’d understand this act of showering together was her commitment to him.

  Understand that she loved him!

  There, it was out, no more dithering. What she felt for Will couldn’t be anything but love, although in a shower with him, spreading soap across his body, enjoying the sensations when he returned the favour—well, some of that was lust…

  To Will, her unspoken invitation to join him in the shower was a gift—the gift of trust, something he was certain Alex had never been able to give another man.

  Will touched her gently, reverently, and when they made love beneath the water, he was speechless with an emotion he’d never felt before, yet wary that such happiness had come his way, aware how quickly happiness could be stripped away…

  She fell asleep before him, curled into his body, and although he knew it would take time for Alex and Charlotte to get to know each other, he let himself dare to dream about the future—about family…

  Alex woke, kissed the cheek of her still-sleeping lover, pulled on a robe and went downstairs to get the paper that her father must have organised to have delivered every day. Although at first she’d thought she’d cancel it, this morning she was glad she hadn’t because today it would hold the end of Adam’s story.

  Disarming the alarm before she opened the door, pleased with herself for remembering the numbers, she slipped out, picked it up, then unfolded it as she walked back inside, wanting to see what was said.

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Will was coming down the stairs and must have heard her involuntary exclamation.

  ‘Nothing, it’s just… I didn’t think…’

  Her voice trailed off when she couldn’t find the words she needed, so she handed the paper to Will, pointing at the picture that topped the lead story—a picture of her, Norm and the hospital’s media expert.

  ‘It should have been a picture of Adam, not us,’ she finally managed, disturbed by the exposure, though unable to explain why.

  ‘You can never tell what the press will do,’ Will said. ‘And, anyway, it’s a great picture of you. Norm, they’ve made to look like a mad scientist—they took it when he put on his glasses to read the official statement.’

  Alex had another look and had to smile—Norm did look like a mad scientist—but her uneasiness remained, staying with her all day, while patients praised the picture or talked about Adam, intensifying as she drove home.

  She sat in her car on the ferry, wanting to phone Will but not wanting to break into his time with Charlotte.

  She could text him—just say Miss U. That wouldn’t interrupt too much—

  Her phone buzzed—a text, the message she’d been sending in her head there on her phone.

  She stared at it, then, with total inanity, kissed the plastic screen, although she didn’t tell him that when he phoned later, after Charlotte was in bed, to tell her the same thing but in a lot more words.

  For some reason she slept late. Dressing quickly, she skipped breakfast—one of the nurses would get her a coffee and muffin from the shop downstairs. She set the security alarm then raced out the door, grabbing the paper from her front lawn on her way to her car. She’d have a quick look at it on the ferry.

  But Will phoned while she sat in the queue of vehicles, waiting to board, and the paper was forgotten.

  Until he said, ‘Have you seen the paper?’

  ‘No, I’m going to read it on the ferry. Hang on a sec while I get the car on board.’

  She negotiated her vehicle into the tight spot the ferry lad was showing her, morning traffic making the trip more difficult, then got back to the phone.

  ‘Don’t open the paper,’ Will said. ‘I’ll meet you at your rooms. Come straight here, you can do a ward round later.’

  ‘Don’t open the paper?’

  ‘Please, Alex, I’m asking this of you—just do it for me, okay?’

  Totally bemused, she agreed, but as she drove off the ferry she glanced at the paper lying next to her handbag on the seat beside her and wondered what it could possibly contain that had Will so excited.

  Or upset?

  Yes, he’d sounded more upset than excited.

&n
bsp; The drive to work was agonising, and several times she reached out to just sneak a look, but she’d promised—or kind of promised.

  Missing her ward round meant she was now early to work, but Marilyn was already there, her face set in an expression Alex couldn’t read, so when the efficient, unflappable woman burst into tears, Alex was at a total loss.

  She stepped swiftly towards her and put her arms around Marilyn’s shoulders.

  ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,’ she said, but shook her head.

  ‘It is, it is, and Will’s told me all about it and it’s so unfair but it will hurt the practice, I know it will.’

  Someone’s died and the relatives are blaming Brian or Mal, Alex guessed, so she gave Marilyn’s shoulders an extra squeeze then said, ‘You look like you could do with a decent coffee and I missed breakfast. Let’s pop down to the canteen together for a muffin and a coffee. Do you want to freshen up first?’

  Marilyn straightened up, sniffed back her tears and trotted off to the washroom to obliterate any sign of them, calling over her shoulder, ‘Will’s in your office.’

  Great!

  Now perhaps she’d learn what on earth was going on.

  She headed down the passage that led to her office, surprised to hear Will’s voice. He must have been speaking very loudly—yelling?—because the rooms, with thick walls and heavy doors, were fairly soundproof.

  He stopped his conversation as Alex walked in so the last words she heard were, ‘My lawyer will be in touch with you.’

  His face was pale but bright spots of anger burned on his cheeks.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is it Charlotte? What’s happened?’ Alex asked, coming towards him, her arms out to hold him.

  He stood up from her chair and pulled her close.

  She could feel his chest rising and falling as if he was taking deep breaths to steady himself.

  ‘Not Charlotte, but you, my darling,’ he said, his lips in her hair, his hands pressing her to him. ‘Obviously thwarted by the security measures at your house, your stalker has taken to the media.’

  Alex pushed away from him.

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  As Will seemed to be unable to say whatever words were needed, Alex snatched the paper from the bag she’d dropped on a visitor’s chair and opened it.

  There, across the top of two columns on the front page, was the picture that had appeared the day before, with Will and the media rep blotted out, only her face remaining.

  And under it the headline: ‘Woman who ruined the life of a good man returns to Port.’

  The story recounted the tale of the trial and Mr Spencer’s acquittal—the headlines from the following day—the huge ‘ACQUITTED!’ headline that had haunted Alex for years inserted into the text. It told of her family’s shame, hinted that her mother had died of humiliation and a broken heart, and went on to insinuate that she’d only returned to get what she could after her father’s death.

  Somehow, as she’d read, Alex had sunk down into her chair, and now, hands trembling, she put the paper on her desk and looked up at Will.

  ‘Poor Brian,’ she whispered. ‘He’ll have to come back and start his search for a replacement all over again.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Will growled. ‘We’ll fight this, it’s slander, or libel, whatever they call the one that’s printed. And we’ll find out now who did it, because there couldn’t be two people in town who hate you this much. We have to fight, you can’t just run away.’

  Alex reached out and touched his arm.

  ‘Will,’ she said, her voice catching on the simple syllable, ‘if it was only me I’d do as you say, get myself a lawyer and fight to the death, but it isn’t only me. It’s the practice and don’t say it won’t suffer because people tend to believe just about everything they read. And a fair number of the practice’s patients are older people who will remember the fuss at the time. Once that man was acquitted, I was branded a liar as well as a slut. I’ll contact Brian, get him to find a locum, and get out as quickly as I can.’

  ‘And me?’ Will said, and Alex dredged up a smile from the black, anguished turmoil inside her.

  ‘Do you really think I could taint Charlotte and your mother with this nonsense? It doesn’t matter what we do, how we fight—and, yes, I’ll get around to fighting—mud sticks, Will, you know that. And I can’t have it sticking to an innocent little girl—have parents of the other kids pointing at her at kindy next year, people avoiding your mother. I won’t do it but this is home for you and your family. You’ll stay here, find a mother for Charlotte, and live happily ever after.’

  So far, she told herself, she’d managed okay, but when she added, ‘I told you my relationships didn’t last,’ the enormity of the loss she was facing—the loss of love—hit her like a fist slamming into her stomach, and she doubled over, resting her head on the desk, glad she hadn’t eaten breakfast as bile rose in her throat.

  A soft tap at the door and Marilyn entered, bearing coffee and a muffin.

  ‘I know how busy you are, so I popped down on my own. It might be a bit cold now,’ she said, speaking as if she hadn’t been in floods of tears a little earlier, ‘because Robyn Alcorn—the nurse from the cardiac unit—phoned to tell me it was all lies in the paper. She’s said she’s already rung the paper and wants someone to interview her for the other side of the story.’

  That tiny scrap of unexpected kindness was the last straw.

  As Alex lifted her head to thank Marilyn, the tears she’d been holding back overflowed.

  Grabbing for a tissue from the box on her desk, she wiped them away.

  ‘See, one kind word and I burst into tears,’ she said. ‘Of course I can’t keep working here.’

  ‘But we need you,’ Marilyn said. ‘With Brian and Mal away, and, what’s more, all the patients you’ve already seen are singing your praises, talking about how they looked you up online and saw the work you’d done in Glasgow and they all think they’re lucky to have you here in Port.’

  ‘But will they think that now?’ Alex asked, pushing the coffee and muffin to the side of her desk as the smell of the offering was making her feel ill.

  Or more ill!

  Will had been standing by the desk, statue still since Alex had pointed out the repercussions for their relationship.

  His body screamed denial even as a small, still-functioning part of his brain suggested she might be right—at least about the slur on Charlotte.

  But he looked at the woman at the desk and knew he couldn’t let her out of his life. They could move away—all of them—he thought with a burst of optimism, but immediately discounted the solution. Alex would always be aware of the dark shadow hovering over her.

  It would taint their life—their happiness.

  No, there was only one way to do this and that was to fight.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, and walked away, wondering what they’d done with the list, pathetic though it was.

  They’d left it on the bench in the kitchen, he realised, feeling in his pocket where the key Alex had insisted he take hadn’t yet been slipped onto his keyring.

  He’d done a ward round and Josh was on duty so he phoned the ward and told them he’d be away from the hospital for an hour and to page him if he was needed.

  Once on the ferry he phoned Robyn Alcorn’s mobile number, which Marilyn had given him. She agreed only too happily to meet him at the hospital.

  ‘I mightn’t be able to help much,’ she said, ‘but I’ll do whatever I can. It’s cruel and scandalous what they’ve done to that woman, and she’s a really good doctor too—the town needs people like her. People with roots here so they won’t always be wanting to move somewhere else.’

  Satisfied he’d done what he could for the moment, Will concentrated on getting safely to Alex’s house, battling the hot anger churning through his body.

  * * *

  ‘Can you get Brian on the phone for me?’ Alex asked Marilyn w
hen Will had left the room. ‘I need to find out what he’d want me to do.’

  ‘He’ll want you to stay,’ Marilyn said stoutly, although Alex suspected there was a shade of uncertainty in her voice.

  And that uncertainty raised another question.

  ‘Have any patients cancelled?’

  Marilyn looked embarrassed. She shrugged her shoulders, but as Alex held her eyes she finally admitted, ‘A couple said they’d rather see Brian or Mal and made new appointments in a couple of weeks. No one knew Brian might not have been back, you see.’

  Alex sighed.

  ‘So, do I have any patients? Perhaps not everyone gets the paper.’

  ‘Of course you’ve got patients,’ Marilyn said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll keep you busy, and being busy you won’t have time to think about all this rubbish.’

  Although ‘this rubbish’ is what I’ll have to think about, Alex thought, but there was no point in saying it out loud.

  She made it through the day, most of her patients not mentioning the newspaper article, and the ones who did were angry about newspapers dredging up old scandals.

  ‘As if it matters what happened twenty years ago,’ one elderly woman said, ‘and from what I heard, acquitted or not, that man was no good!’

  Brian, when contacted, had said he’d return within a few days, but for support, nothing else—he wanted her to stay.

  By the end of the day she was so physically and emotionally wrung out that even the ferry crossing failed to soothe her.

  Arriving home, she looked in surprise at the huge bunch of bright flowers on her kitchen bench, and the note, a simple ‘I love you’, sitting beside it.

  So Will had been here…

  Just to leave flowers?

  Alex looked around and realised the list was missing.

  She had to smile—Superman springing into action on her behalf?—but she knew it was all too late. Whatever happened, some mud would stick and he and his daughter deserved better than that.

  She opened the refrigerator and looked at the contents, Buddy perched on her shoulder, expecting a treat. It had been more than a week since she’d shopped and most things in there were looking a little tired and definitely uninspiring.