Marrying the Millionaire Doctor
Autor:in
Alison Roberts
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CHAPTER ONE
THIS was…weird.
As though reality had become a dream. Of course, Wallaby Island usually had that effect on new arrivals. The largest of a collection of tropical islands off the coast of North Australia, it was a picture-perfect mound of exotic rainforest greenery, bordered by white sandy beaches, surrounded by a warm turquoise ocean and almost always bathed in brilliant sunshine.
Susie Jackson was not a new arrival, however. This environment was reality for her and the anticipation created by watching the privately chartered seaplane come in for a smooth landing and taxi to the pontoon at the end of the jetty was due purely to an empathy with the young girl standing by her side. Pressed close enough for the tremor to feel like her own. She tightened the arm around the girl’s shoulders with a quick, reassuring hug.
Figures emerged from the small aircraft. The pilot stayed to secure the mooring and it was a single figure who began to walk down the timber slats of the narrow jetty.
That was when it happened.
When the edges of reality began to blur.
So much for the generic ‘parent’ figure she had expected to greet. Any last-minute words of encouragement for the girl beside her died on Susie’s lips and she could only stare as the man striding towards them turned the jetty into a catwalk.
Modelling the latest Armani suit, perhaps, with an appropriate aura of elegance and power. Beautifully tailored dark trousers. A dark tie that had been loosened and a pristine white shirt with the top button undone. The suit jacket slung carelessly over one arm and a slim, black briefcase dangling from that hand. A mobile phone was in his other hand, held to his ear.
Was it the way he was walking? A mixture of casual grace but purpose with an unmistakable air of being very accustomed to attracting a spotlight. Demanding it, almost.
OK, maybe the man was a highly acclaimed neurosurgeon from Sydney and maybe he was a key figure in tomorrow’s opening ceremony because he had donated enough money to help make the new, fabulous medical facilities on Wallaby Island a possibility in the wake of Cyclone Willie, which had devastated the area six months ago, but this wasn’t about him right now, was it?
It was about Stella. The girl nervously standing beside her. Without the aid of her crutches. Waiting for the most important person in her life to applaud what was, quite literally, a huge step forward.
The nerves were contagious. Or maybe it was a trickle of apprehension that made Susie’s stomach tighten and her mouth feel dry as Alex Vavunis strode closer. The phone was snapped shut and he was close enough now for Susie to take in the clearly defined lines of his face, the jaw softened slightly by heavy shadow and far more by a charming smile. Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin. Lines on his forehead that suggested this man was used to frowning.
Not that he was frowning right now. Susie was invisible, standing outside a kind of forcefield created by the palpable bond between this father and daughter. What would it feel like, she wondered a little wistfully, to be so important to a man like this?
But then the lines deepened, confirming Susie’s impression, and the smile of pride and delighted greeting faded as he focused intently on his daughter’s face. For the briefest moment he looked taken aback. As though he didn’t quite recognise the person he was looking at. Almost as though he was seeing a ghost.
‘Stella! What’s all this?’
Stella’s tentative smile widened hopefully. Look at me, Daddy, it said. Tell me it’s OK to feel this proud of myself.
Susie’s smile widened, too. She did this by herself, it said. Isn’t it wonderful?
But Alex Vavunis didn’t even seem to notice the absence of the crutches. He was staring at Stella’s face. Susie watched, transfixed by the changing expression on his face, not wanting to believe what she could see happening. Pleasure giving way to a blink of readjustment. Pride being tarnished by what could only be interpreted as disappointment. Surely not. How crushing would that be?
‘You’re…’ Alex paused, and the transformation from loving parent to authoritarian figure appeared complete. ‘Are you wearing make-up?’
Stella’s smile wobbled. ‘I…It’s the camp disco tonight. I told you…’
‘And what are you wearing? Whose clothes are they?’
‘Mine.’
Her father made a faint sound—of irritation perhaps. As though he knew every item of clothing in his teenage daughter’s wardrobe and didn’t recognise these.
Maybe he did, in which case Susie might label him as a control freak rather than a caring parent. It was possible to give him the benefit of some doubt, though. What Stella was wearing at the moment was very different to anything she had brought with her to camp but, then, variations on a theme of denim jeans, oversized T-shirts and baseball caps were hardly what a girl would want to wear to her first disco, were they?
‘There’s a shop at the resort,’ Stella was continuing bravely. ‘You said I could buy anything I needed and put it on your room account.’
‘Yes, but…’ Alex took another look at his daughter’s attire and sighed.
The sigh seemed to hang over them. The sound of a man who was capable of dealing with any amount of stress and decision-making in matters of life or death but who had not expected and certainly did not welcome having to deal with this particular issue.
Stella didn’t sound so brave now. There was uncertainty in her voice. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’
‘Nothing,’ Susie muttered.
The skirt was gorgeous. Layers of brightly coloured gypsy ruffles that ended at mid-calf. The perfect length and shape for making the first public appearance of that prosthesis discreet.
The lacy white camisole top was also perfect. Just what most teenage girls wore, and while the shop hadn’t run to much in the way of lingerie, Susie knew Stella had been secretly thrilled at the boost from the lightly padded and underwired white bikini top.
‘It looks like underwear,’ Alex Vavunis decreed. He shook his head in a single, incredulous movement. ‘Good Greek girls do not appear in underwear in public, Stella.’
‘But…’
Susie could feel Stella’s confidence draining. All the excitement and anticipation from revealing her progress and new, grown-up look was evaporating like the hiss of air from a pricked balloon. She glared at Stella’s father. How could he do this? Did he have any idea how hard it had been to get to this point? How fragile his daughter’s self-esteem was?
A degree of disapproval would have been understandable. Acceptable even. She had been prepared for that after more than one reference from Stella about how strict her father could be, but Susie had brushed aside the warnings. She had heard enough to convince her how proud Stella was of her famous father and how much she loved him. Any parent who inspired such loyalty had to be doing something right and it had been easy to convince herself that he would be as thrilled as she was at the extraordinary progress Stella had made this week.
Oh, Lord! This was her fault.
Susie still had her arm around Stella’s shoulders and she could feel the gathering tension. Any second now and her arm could be shrugged off as blame was apportioned. There would be tears, no doubt. What should have been a joyous reunion would be a scene of misery and confrontation for everybody concerned.
‘Charles Wetherby was supposed to meet me and arrange transport,’ Alex said. ‘We’ll go straight to the hotel and you can get changed.’ He frowned at his mobile phone then looked over Stella’s shoulder.
Susie followed the glance. Sure enough, there was Charles in his wheelchair a little further up the path that led to the medical centre. How long had he been there? How much had he overheard?
Enough, she suspected, aware of a wash of relief. The medical director of Crocodile Creek Base Hospital had earned his position as the heart of this community. He never ceased to keep his fingers on the pulse of his realm. Not just the running of a large base hospital that provided a rescue base for the whole of far North Queensland. Or its satellite and now considerably upgraded facilities on Wallaby Island that meant they were able to expand the camps run for sick kids and their families. He also seemed to know anything important that was happening in the lives of his staff.
Susie sent a smile in his direction. A probably unnecessary plea for assistance in defusing this situation. Charles had been the point of contact for the neurosurgeon two years ago when Alex Vavunis had been checking out the possibility of a respite for his daughter who had been undergoing intensive chemotherapy for a type of bone cancer. He would know more about the man’s personality than Susie did, so he would be aware of the undercurrents.
And everybody had seen how Susie had been drawn to this prickly teenager in the first week of this current camp. Charles had commented only yesterday about the extra hours Susie was spending on the island this time, but the twinkle in his eye had been approving.
He had seen what Stella’s father was apparently blind to. Susie’s smile suddenly felt crooked. Maybe Charles had also seen that the project was helping Susie as much as Stella. That she’d been drawn to the teenager because some of the events of this week had left her feeling just as forlorn and left out of the good things in life as Stella clearly did.
Charles rolled onto the planks at the land end of the jetty. The seaplane pilot had finished securing the moorings and was walking towards them from the other end, carrying a suitcase. She and Stella were a little island of femininity getting closed in by men. No wonder Stella trembled and seemed to lose her balance. Standing unaided was new enough without this sense of threat. That was why Susie had the elbow crutches clutched in her free hand. Hidden behind her back.
Amazingly, though, Stella straightened. Regained her balance. Susie loved the way her chin rose defiantly.
‘No,’ she told her father.
‘No?’ The echo was dumbfounded. ‘What do you mean, “No”?’
‘I’m not going to the hotel.’
‘It’s all arranged.’ The words were impatient. ‘We have a suite. You didn’t want to stay in the dormitories with the other children, remember?’
Of course she didn’t, Susie thought angrily. She has to take her prosthesis off at night, doesn’t she?
‘You refused to even come to camp this year,’ Alex continued. ‘You only agreed because I’d already gone to considerable trouble to create a window so I could attend the opening of the medical centre.’
Charles raised an eyebrow. It had been an invitation to a major sponsor, the gesture suggested. A courtesy, not an edict intended to create inconvenience.
‘You liked the idea of the luxury suite,’ Alex concluded firmly. ‘And that you could fly back with me on Sunday instead of staying for the second week. It’s all arranged, Stella.’
And that was that.
Or was it?
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Stella said. She gulped in a breath of the warm tropical air. ‘I like the dormitory now…And I like my new clothes…and…and I can wear make-up if I want to. I’m nearly fourteen and Susie said—’
‘Susie?’ The interruption was a snap. A low and dangerous sound. ‘Who the hell is Susie?’
‘Me,’ Susie said. Oh, God, did it have to come out like the squeak of a cornered mouse?
For the first time Alex looked directly at her and Susie felt the eye contact like a physical blow. Sharp and penetrating. She felt like a bug pinned for inspection, and she couldn’t escape. Couldn’t—for the life of her—tear her gaze away.
Not that she really wanted to. Stella needed an ally here and she was it. She would just have to ignore the way her heart had begun hammering and the odd, prickly internal sensation that felt horribly like fear.
‘Susie Jackson.’ It was Charles’s voice. Calm and strong. A reassurance all by itself. ‘Our esteemed physiotherapist, Alex. She and Stella have made a formidable team this week.’
‘Charles!’ Alex slipped his mobile phone into the pocket of his trousers and extended his hand to greet the man now beside Stella. ‘Good to see you.’
‘And you, Alex. We’re delighted you were able to make it.’
‘Good timing, having the opening on while Stella’s here for camp. It’s about time I saw the place that’s made such a difference to my only child’s life.’
‘Not to mention meeting the people.’ Charles’s smile drew Susie into the exchange. ‘We’re lucky there were no last-minute emergencies to keep you in Sydney this time.’
The pocket holding the cellphone got patted. ‘There are always emergencies, Charles, as I’m sure you know only too well.’ A determined intake of breath suggested resolution. Had he been dealing with difficulties in his unit even as he’d been taking his first steps onto the jetty? ‘This time I told them they’d just have to cope without me.’
The charming smile was back but it had no effect on Susie. She wasn’t prepared to make allowances for professional hassles. She was getting a rather clear picture of how important this man considered himself and his career and, in her opinion, Stella should be a long way further up his list of priorities.
It was, quite simply, not good enough.
‘I might even turn my mobile off,’ Alex said.
Susie almost snorted.
‘Good thinking,’ Charles said mildly. He swivelled to look over his shoulder. ‘There’s a cart on the way to take you to the resort but if you’re not too hot, I could give you a quick tour of the centre.’
Susie found herself nodding agreement. Disappear for a while, she encouraged silently. Let me see if I can repair the damage here.
No such luck.
‘We’ll go to the hotel first,’ Alex said crisply. ‘I can’t have my daughter out looking like—’
‘Like what?’ Stella’s voice rose and there was more than a hint of tears in it. ‘What’s so wrong with the way I look, Dad? Susie said…’ Her voice trailed away. Was it too hard to utter the notion that she looked gorgeous?
‘Susie said what?’
Alex flicked another glance at his daughter’s physiotherapist. His gaze dropped from her loose, shoulder-length hair, which always went a bit too curly with salt water and sunshine, to take in the soft singlet top she wore beneath an unbuttoned shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up past her elbows. Dropped again, to denim shorts with frayed hems that did nothing to hide the length of her well-tanned legs.
Susie flushed. It wasn’t a particularly professional-looking uniform but things were never overly formal in Crocodile Creek, and she was on an island right now with a bunch of kids who were having a holiday. A break from lives that centred around debilitating and sometimes fatal illnesses.
They were here to have fun and her role was to help them only as much as necessary. To encourage severely asthmatic children to keep up their breathing exercises. To provide maintenance therapy to those suffering from cystic fibrosis and cerebral palsy. And, yes, she had stepped over the boundary of maintenance therapy with Stella, but if she hadn’t, Stella would have stayed on the outskirts. Hiding from the other children. From life. From having any fun at all.
And her father wanted to send her back into that dark space? Susie’s chin went up the same way Stella’s had. She cleared her throat and was pleased with how firmly she spoke.
‘I said she looked absolutely gorgeous.’
Her defiance was clearly infuriating.
‘She looks,’ Alex hissed, ‘like a tart.’
Stella gasped. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. How could you?’
Alex closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, his expression had softened. He raised his hand in a gesture of apology. ‘I’m sorry, latria, but you’re thirteen years old and I find you wearing underwear in public and with your face plastered with make-up. What did you expect me to think?’
It wasn’t plastered. The make-up was discreet and enhancing. The result of rather long girly time in Susie’s cabin that afternoon. She opened her mouth to protest but Stella got in first.
‘I wish you hadn’t even come.’ The girl twisted under Susie’s arm, having either not registered or not accepted her father’s attempt at an apology. She was fishing for her crutches.
Should Susie try and hang on to them? Let Stella show her father she could now manage to walk on her prosthesis—something she had refused to even attempt until this week?
No. Stella was far too upset to remember how to keep her balance. To fall over now would only make her humiliation unbearable. Susie helped her fit a crutch to each arm, which took only seconds.
Tears were streaming down Stella’s pale face as she looked up at her father.
‘Go home,’ she shouted. ‘I hate you.’
With that, she turned deftly and manoeuvred herself past Charles, heading towards the end of the jetty.
‘Stella!’ The word was a command.
One that was blatantly ignored. Stella was picking up speed now that she had reached the path. She was running away as fast an anyone could with a pair of elbow crutches and a below-knee amputation. The state-of-the-art prosthesis that looked so wonderfully realistic wasn’t touching the ground. It was back to being what it had been since its procurement. An aesthetic accessory.
Susie rounded on Alex.
‘How could you?’
His face emptied of an expression worn many times by any parent of a teenager. That baffled kind of look that asked how on earth things had got so out of hand. As he focused on Susie, his face became completely neutral. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Your daughter walked nearly fifty metres this morning without using those crutches. She couldn’t even stand without the crutches a week ago and we’ve worked incredibly hard to get this far.’ The words were tumbling out. A release of all the hurt and disappointment she felt on behalf of Stella. ‘That’s exactly what she was doing when you arrived and that’s what you should have noticed. Not the bloody make-up!’ Susie gave an incredulous huff and put all her own fury into the glare she was directing at Alex. ‘How could you?’ she repeated.
There was a long moment of stunned silence. Susie had seen him flinch. She knew her words had found a target. Clearly, he was considering how to deal with such a personal attack.
The pilot had stopped approaching some time back, obviously disconcerted by the sound of angry voices. He was peering at something over the edge of the jetty with studied interest.
Tiny sounds became magnified. The lap of gentle waves breaking on the nearby beach. The cry of exotic birds in the rainforest. A distant shout and then the laughter of children.
The heat was intolerable.
It wasn’t a tropical sun that was burning Susie right now, however. The heat was emanating from the man in front of her. His sheer energy was overpowering. Not simply anger. Anyone could get angry, especially a parent who had been publicly defied and then criticised. No. The power here came from anger underlined with a heady mix of intelligence, position and…and the most potent masculinity Susie Jackson had ever encountered.
She had never met anyone like this in her entire life.
What the hell did she think she was doing?
His voice encapsulated every lightning impression she had just catalogued. It was a low, dangerously calm rumble.
‘Stella is my daughter, Miss Jackson. I have raised her alone since she was three months old.’ A tiny pause for effect. ‘I don’t think I need anybody telling me how I should be doing it.’
Obviously he did, but the defiant response refused to come out. Susie’s mouth was too dry and she felt alarmingly close to tears herself. It was tempting to turn and run, as Stella had done, but she wasn’t going to.
No way!
A purring noise broke this silence and it came from the small, electrically powered vehicle that chose that moment to arrive. Slow moving and environmentally friendly, these island vehicles had two seats and could tow a small trailer for luggage.
‘Ah…my transport.’ Alex turned away, giving Susie the impression that she was a nuisance that had now been dealt with. He sounded slightly less sure of himself when he focused on the new arrival, however.
‘What in God’s name is that?’
‘Garf,’ Charles told him succinctly. ‘The camp mascot.’
As was often the case, empty space in a cart or trailer had been gleefully occupied by the large, woolly dog.
‘But what is he? I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Labradoodle. Labrador poodle cross. Hypoallergenic. We had to be careful with pets and avoid anything that could trigger asthma attacks. He’s still on parole as far as close contact with some of the children.’
Garf didn’t know that. He had obviously been waiting for the cart to stop. As soon as it did, he bounced off the seat and loped off in the direction Stella had taken. Susie smiled. Garf had an inbuilt antenna when it came to unhappy children and he was probably the best medicine for Stella right now.
Alex gave a satisfied nod as the dog vanished up the track. ‘I’ll meet you back here in half an hour if that suits,’ he said to Charles. ‘Now, where is Stella’s dormitory?’
Susie opened her mouth and then shut it again as she caught the flicker of Charles’s eyebrow.
‘Let me offer you a nice cold drink,’ he said to Alex. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with one.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t forget we’re on island time here. Nobody’s going anywhere and nothing needs to be rushed.’
Diplomatic, Susie conceded. Far more so than she would have been in suggesting that Stella needed some time to herself before seeing her father again.
And Charles was not someone who could be dismissed. He might be in a wheelchair but that did nothing to diminish this man’s presence, and he had the upper hand right now. They were on his patch.
Alex had the grace to concede at least a reprieve. He inclined his head. ‘Wouldn’t say no to a cold beer. I have to admit it’s been rather a long and difficult day already.’
Was that some kind of backhanded apology? Inferring that Susie’s earlier impression might have been valid and his reaction to Stella’s appearance had been the last straw on a stressed camel’s back?
Charles was gracious enough to assume something along those lines. ‘I’ll bet,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Let’s send your luggage off to the resort and we can see what the fridge in my office has to offer.’
‘Lead the way.’
‘We’ll go via the centre if you don’t mind. I need to pop in on Lily.’
‘Lily? Your daughter?’
‘She’s not very well.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Nothing too serious but you know how young children can go down in a heap with a virus. I’m keeping her in the medical centre this afternoon so we can keep a close eye on her.’
The voices of the two men faded as they moved away. The pilot took it as a cue to finish his journey along the jetty.
‘Bloody suit,’ he muttered. ‘Thinks he’s God’s gift, doesn’t he? You OK, Susie?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, Wayne.’
‘Poor kid.’
‘Hmm. I might just go and see where she is.’
‘You do that.’ Wayne hefted the smart black suitcase onto the back of the electric cart and greeted the driver. ‘There’s a couple of dead birds floating under the jetty, mate. Those noisy shearwater things. Someone might need to do something before they wash up on the beach or the kids go swimming or something.’
The driver unhooked a radio from the dashboard. ‘I’ll call it in but I think the rangers are still out with the kids on some forest trek.’
The rainforest buggy ride was actually over, Susie realised as she walked back towards the camp facilities. Already groups of children and their parents or carers were heading to the beach for a late-afternoon swim. She waved at Benita Green, a nurse with a small group of her cancer patients in tow, and then found herself returning the wide grin of little Danny, who was still completely bald from his chemo.
It was hard to stay angry in this environment. Hopefully Stella had found a private spot and the island was working a similar magic on her. Or would she be angry at Susie for orchestrating the confrontation, albeit unwittingly? More likely, she was simply feeling utterly miserable.
Unloved and unlovable.
Where would she have gone?
Not to the dormitory with the others returning and racing in to get their togs and towels. The older ones would be looking forward to the disco this evening and probably discussing it, and that would certainly rub salt into Stella’s wounds.
Would she have gone to the cabin Susie had been allocated because she was staying for the opening ceremony tomorrow and the gala dinner the five-star resort restaurant was hosting later? Stella knew the location because that was where they’d excitedly taken the purchases of new clothes and make-up for the styling session that afternoon. But she also knew that Susie was going to be sharing the cabin with other staff from the base hospital. She would hardly want to explain herself to strangers if they had already arrived.
No. Susie turned off the wide track that led from the beach, one fork going to the camp dormitories, dining hall and activity rooms, the other leading to the newly built eco-cabins in the rainforest. She doubled back towards the beach on a much smaller track, confident she knew one of the best thinking spots around.
Sure enough, hidden between the overturned timber hulls of a couple of ancient dinghies, Stella was sitting. A hunched figure scraping a meaningless pattern in the sand with a piece of driftwood, oblivious to the view of the ocean and small islands that advertised their presence in paradise. Beside her, with big brown eyes peering anxiously beneath golden dreadlocks, sat Garf. Close enough to cuddle but respectfully keeping his distance for now. The dog seemed, in fact, to be enjoying the view Stella was ignoring.
Susie slid down the side of a dinghy to a squat rather than a sitting position, being as careful as Garf not to intrude too forcefully into Stella’s space. She couldn’t assume she was welcome. Maybe it was only on her side that the relationship had become so much more than that of therapist and patient.
‘Hey,’ she said gently. ‘You OK, hon?’
The only answer was a sullen sniff.
Susie picked up a handful of the fine white sand and let it drift through her fingers. ‘Dr Wetherby’s taken your dad off to see the medical centre. He thought you might want a bit of time to yourself.’
‘I do. Go away.’
‘I think your dad’s had a stressful day getting here,’ Susie offered. ‘He got a bit of a shock seeing you all dressed up, that’s all. He’ll get over it.’
‘No, he won’t.’
‘We won’t let him stop you going to the disco.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
She didn’t really expect Susie to believe that, did she? Maybe she didn’t realise that her exchange with fourteen-year-old Jamie had been overheard that morning.
‘You going to the disco?’
‘Dunno. Maybe.’
‘You should. It’ll be choice.’
‘Yeah…OK…’
‘Cool. See you there, then.’
Even if she had been aware of Susie listening, Stella wouldn’t have known that, in the wake of Jamie’s grin, her face had been the picture of every teenage girl in existence who was experiencing her first crush.
And Susie had used that secret as an emotional key to get through the last barrier and get Stella walking properly. The day had snowballed from then on. The hugely successful physio session, the shopping and the make-over. A crescendo of excitement that had just been shredded.
A flash of anger resurfaced.
‘Your dad’s wrong,’ Susie said firmly. ‘He only said that about how you look because he doesn’t realise you’re growing up. It’s not what the other kids will think, believe me.’ Not what Jamie would think, but she couldn’t say that.
Stella hunched into a tighter ball. ‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.’
Using the side of the other dinghy as a climbing frame, Stella clambered upright awkwardly. She picked up her crutches without looking at Susie. ‘Who wants to go to a stupid disco anyway?’
The hunched shoulders, resentful tone and total lack of eye contact was achingly familiar.
They were right back to where they’d been at the start of this week.
Back to square one.
Susie watched miserably as Stella moved slowly over the sand.
Something wonderful had been happening in the last few days. Something that had filled a lonely space with magic and created more joy than she had known her career could provide, but that new, hopeful space had just exploded, thanks to a human bomb. Even Garf’s head on her knee wasn’t enough to comfort her.
Susie straightened her legs, giving Garf a quick scratch under his chin as she stood up. She watched as two boys ran onto the beach, past Stella. They weren’t camp kids but Susie had seen them hanging around in the last day or two and she didn’t like the look of them at all.
‘Hey, Zach, look!’ One of them shouted. ‘It’s one of those cripples from the kiddie camp.’
‘Crip-ple!’ His mate taunted loudly. ‘Hop-along! Go back to the forest with all the other freaky frogs!’
Laughing, the teens in their designer board shorts kept loping onto the beach, oblivious to the hurt they might have caused.
Susie’s hands bunched into fists. She started moving, intending to intercept the boys and give them a piece of her mind, but from the corner of her eye she could see another group of young people arriving. These were camp kids and Jamie was leading them.
He must have heard the taunting and Stella would have to know he’d heard it, which would only have made it even more cutting. The tall, lanky body of the teenager, bronzed by so many hours in the surf, was gathering speed. Tousled, blond-streaked hair bounced. Susie could see why he was catching the attention of the girls.
And not just the girls. With a delighted woof and an apologetic glance up at Susie, Garf abandoned her to join the fun.
She watched the way Jamie bent to welcome the dog by ruffling his soft coat. Should she try and enlist the boy’s help in boosting Stella’s self-esteem? Could she do it without making it look contrived? Should she even try? Susie knew the answer to that one but desperation might have tipped the balance if her thoughts had not been interrupted by the ringtone of her mobile.
It was Charles.
‘Could you spare a few minutes to come to my office?’ he asked. ‘Alex would like to talk to you.’
‘I’m not at all sure I would like to talk to him.’ Susie was still watching Jamie. He had caught up with the strange boys and was clearly saying the kind of things Susie had been planning to say. She smiled. Stella knew how to pick them, didn’t she?
‘Susie!’ Charles’s tone had a glint of amusement. Understanding. But it was also a reprimand. Charles wouldn’t have suggested the meeting unless he thought it would benefit the people he cared about.
Like her.
And Stella.
Susie sighed. ‘I’m on my way.’
