Everlasting Love
Author
Carole Mortimer
Reads
18.4K
Chapters
10
CHAPTER ONE
‘READY, Olivia?’
Olivia sighed, moving to open the door to admit Natalie Irving, a young and pretty girl of seventeen, with long golden hair. ‘Are you sure you and Rick wouldn’t rather go on your own?’ she frowned. ‘I can easily go shopping for the afternoon. There are lots of things I—’
‘Now don’t be silly,’ Natalie dismissed, coming further into the bedroom. ‘Is this your costume?’ She held up the emerald-coloured bikini, leaving the black one-piece suit on the bed where they had both been laid out for Olivia’s examination.
‘The black—’
‘Too old-fashioned,’ the young girl dismissed with a wrinkle of her nose, and rolled the bikini in the towel, tucking them both under her arm, sighing as she saw Olivia still hesitated. ‘You know Rick feels easier when you’re around,’ she encouraged softly.
Olivia sobered as she thought of her patient, her green eyes thoughtful, a frown marring her usually smooth brow. She was seven years the other girl’s senior, although she didn’t feel it when Natalie bossed her about in this way! She didn’t look it either, in the clinging black vest-top and wrap-around green and black skirt, her legs long and bare, her feet thrust into loose sandals, her hair a mass of red-gold curls, her face youthfully beautiful, even if the chin was a little too determined.
‘I’m not sure that’s good for him,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll be gone in a couple of days now that Rick is well again. I don’t think he would still depend on me.’
‘He doesn’t,’ Natalie dismissed with a confident laugh. ‘He likes you, and he’s grateful. Most nurses would jump at the chance of an afternoon lazing by the pool—wouldn’t they?’ she prompted teasingly.
Yes, they would. And after weeks of caring for Rick Hayes, of making him believe he could walk again, of convincing him that he wasn’t going to be a cripple all his life, an afternoon doing nothing but sunbathe and swim was exactly what she needed.
‘But wouldn’t you and Rick rather be alone?’ Still she hesitated about accepting the invitation. The Hayes family, mother and father, Rick, and his young sister Dawn, had all been very kind to her during the three months she had been Rick’s private nurse after he was discharged from hospital following a serious car crash. But there had to be a limit to that kindness, and surely intruding on Rick’s date with his long-time girl-friend Natalie was that limit.
Natalie didn’t seem to think so. ‘We can hardly be alone with thirty other people,’ she said dryly.
Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘Is that how many will be there?’
‘About that,’ the young girl nodded.
‘Then perhaps I ought to go, on a professional level,’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘It will be Rick’s first time among so many people, I don’t know how he’ll react to people seeing his limp.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Natalie assured her. ‘Okay, so he’ll never play football for England—he never could play the game anyway,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘A little old limp isn’t going to effect his becoming an architect, and that’s all he’s interested in.’
‘Besides you,’ Olivia teased, knowing the young couple intended getting engaged on Natalie’s eighteenth birthday.
The younger girl grinned. ‘That goes without saying.’
‘Modest with it!’ Olivia laughingly followed Natalie down to the car where Rick sat impatiently waiting for them.
‘I was going to send out a search party,’ he moaned as he drove out on to the country road. ‘I’ll never know what you women find to talk about all the time!’
‘Men, sweetheart,’ Natalie taunted.
‘I hope you meant that in the singular?’ he returned with mock jealousy.
‘I wouldn’t want to make you conceited,’ his girl-friend returned haughtily.
Olivia sat in the car listening to their lighthearted bantering, smiling to herself. She was going to miss this family, every mad, lovable member of it, from the absentminded Clara, practical joker Eric, handsome Rick, self-assured Natalie, to shy Dawn, the latter slightly overshadowed by the other extroverts in her family. Three months of sharing their big rambling home was a long time to spend in close living with anyone, and the lack of a close relationship with her own parents had made her appreciate this loving and loved family all the more.
But soon it would be over, only another five days and she would be leaving to take care of her next patient, an elderly woman who had fallen and broken her leg, needing nursing care for her first few weeks at home. She would be sorry to leave the Hayes family; she had become very fond of them all. Becoming emotionally involved was a hazard of nursing she had never quite managed to overcome, and she doubted she ever would.
But she hadn’t left this family yet, the sun was shining, Rick and Natalie were very much in love, a wonderful glow emanating from them that made her feel included in their happiness at being alive.
Several boisterous teenagers were already in the pool when they arrived at the Grayston home, and Olivia was at once included in their laughing group, despite her age difference from most of them.
Happily Rick showed no selfconsciousness about wearing bathing trunks, though his legs were still badly scarred from the accident, the limp quite noticeable on one of them. But he was mentally a well-adjusted young man, and had handled the inactivity during the first months after the accident with calm acceptance, only occasional panic setting in as he doubted he would ever walk again. But his progress from not being able to walk at all to walking unaided now had been a rapid one considering the extent of his injuries, and he was coping with his limp with the same maturity that he had handled the rest of his illness.
But as Natalie had said, it was Olivia’s afternoon off, and after assuring herself that Rick was really all right, she lay back on a lounger to enjoy it, very slender in the emerald-green bikini Natalie had insisted she bring in preference to the more sedate black, dark sunglasses pushed on the bridge of her nose hiding eyes the same colour as the bikini.
‘Like to borrow some sun-tan lotion?’ a young female voice offered.
Olivia sat up, grateful for the offer; she had already felt the sun’s rays beginning to burn her delicate skin. ‘Thanks,’ she smiled, pushing her sunglasses up into the riot of red-gold curls.
‘Olivia!’
She looked curiously at the young girl sitting on the lounger beside her. She didn’t look familiar; her long dark hair was pulled back to be secured in an impish ponytail, her face young and pretty, her grey eyes wide in surprised recognition. Grey eyes …?
Olivia’s interest quickened as she studied the young girl, the stubborn chin, the determined mouth, and those shockingly familiar grey eyes. ‘Sally …?’
‘Yes!’ the young girl cried excitedly. ‘How are you? You look well. What are you doing now? Oh, of course, you came with Rick, so you must be the nurse he talks so highly of. Are you—Did I say something funny?’ she frowned as Olivia began to smile.
Olivia’s smile deepened. ‘Well, so far you’ve answered every question you’ve asked.’ Added to which, if she didn’t smile she might cry! She had thought the Hamilton family were well out of her life, and to see Sally again, after all this time, was startling to say the least.
‘Sorry,’ Sally gave a rueful grimace. ‘It’s just such a surprise to see you like this.’
That had to be the understatement of the year! ‘How have you been?’ Olivia asked politely.
‘Fine,’ the young girl nodded.
‘And your father?’ her voice cooled somewhat.
Sally anxiously searched the bland expression on her face. ‘He’s well too. Working too hard!’
‘He always did.’ Olivia sounded brittle, fighting images of Marcus from her mind. She hadn’t thought of him for weeks, and she wouldn’t think of him now, wouldn’t allow this chance meeting with Sally Hamilton to disrupt the even tenor of her life.
‘You haven’t seen him since—’
‘Not for some time, no,’ she cut in sharply. ‘You mentioned something about sun-tan lotion just now,’ she abruptly changed the subject.
‘Oh—of course,’ the young girl flushed, handing her the plastic bottle containing the brown lotion, watching as Olivia began to smooth it on her creamy skin. ‘Don’t you want to talk about Daddy?’ she finally probed after several silent minutes.
Olivia didn’t look up, her breathing becoming shallow. ‘Is there anything to say?’ She knew the question was put in such a way that it was a complete contradiction of itself, that she very much wanted to hear about Marcus, would accept any little crumb of information she could get about him. And as his daughter, Sally was guaranteed to know plenty about Marcus.
‘I somehow thought—I just never expected you and Daddy to break up like you did. You seemed—well, he really liked you,’ Sally finished awkwardly, her gaze questioning.
‘I’m sure he did,’ Olivia agreed with some bitterness. ‘But there was you—and your mother.’
‘Oh yes—Mummy,’ Sally grimaced.
Olivia’s eyes widened at this reaction. ‘You never used to feel that way about her,’ she frowned, remembering well how Sally had cavaliered her mother.
‘People change,’ the girl shrugged. ‘It was six years ago, I was only twelve, still a child really.’
And yet that child had helped to push the wedge between Marcus and herself, Sally’s obvious aversion to any female but her mother in her father’s life making Olivia’s relationship with Marcus impossible. And that was before Ruth came back!
‘I didn’t understand the situation,’ Sally added lamely.
‘Of course you didn’t,’ Olivia agreed brightly. ‘I’m not really sure that I did. I was only eighteen myself then.’
‘But you loved Daddy!’
‘I may have thought I did—’
‘I’m sure you did,’ Sally insisted vehemently.
‘Maybe for a time,’ Olivia acknowledged tightly. ‘But a man in your father’s position couldn’t afford to be involved with an eighteen-year-old. After all,’ she added tautly, ‘he was Chief Surgeon even then.’
‘He still is,’ Sally nodded. ‘At a different hospital—bigger.’
‘Yes.’ It had to be. Marcus would be thirty-nine now, and he had always been destined to be at the top of his profession; it sounded as if he had made it. ‘And your mother, how is she?’ she heard herself ask, her breath held in her throat as she waited for the younger girl to tell her how happy her parents were together, that they perhaps even had more children.
‘Mummy?’ Sally gave her a startled look. ‘But don’t you know?’ She sounded puzzled.
Olivia frowned. ‘Know what?’
‘My mother died three years ago.’
She swallowed hard, shocked in spite of her usual calm composure. ‘I—I had no idea,’ she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added dully.
Ruth Hamilton had been dead for three years, and she hadn’t even known about it! That meant that Marcus had been on his own for all that time—or did it? Marcus was hardly the type to be alone for any amount of time, hadn’t the two of them met during a temporary separation from his wife Ruth. And hadn’t she been discarded just as quickly as soon as Ruth decided to come back! No, whatever hopes she might have had about Marcus for all these years, there had never been a chance of the two of them ever getting back together again. Although she felt sure there would be a woman in his life.
‘Your father’s married again?’ she queried softly.
‘Only to his work,’ Sally replied dryly. ‘He’ll always be married to that.’
‘Yes.’ Olivia stood up with jerky movements. ‘I think I’ll go in for a swim,’ she told the girl brightly. ‘It’s been nice seeing you again. ‘Bye!’ and she ran to the edge of the pool.
‘Oh, but—’
Olivia didn’t wait to hear any more, but dived smoothly into the clear blue water, welcoming its coldness, doing several laps of the pool before she even dared to look up again. Sally had gone from the adjoining loungers and was listening rather absently to a young man as he talked to her at the other end of the pool. Olivia levered herself out on to the side of the pool before hurrying to the changing-rooms, anxious that Sally shouldn’t speak to her again.
Sally seemed to have matured into a very nice young lady, and yet six years ago she had been totally spoilt, and completely possessive of her father. Marcus had responded to that possessiveness with gentleness and understanding, but Olivia hadn’t been able to cope with the young girl’s rudeness quite so calmly. And even that hadn’t been all Sally’s fault; Olivia knew she had been too unsure of Marcus and his interest in her to defend herself against any barbs she might receive, too vulnerable and uncertain in her youthful love of him.
‘Ah, good, you’re ready to leave.’ Natalie met her outside the changing-rooms. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Rick has had enough for one day.’
All Olivia’s concern was instantly for her patient, her own troubled thoughts forgotten. ‘I should have thought of that—’
‘Of course you shouldn’t,’ Natalie laughingly dismissed. ‘He’s an adult, he should know when it’s time to go. And luckily he does. If you want to stay on I’m sure I could get someone to drive you back later—’
‘No, I’m ready to go.’ Her voice was sharper than usual, and she sensed Natalie’s questioning look. ‘I—The sun is very tiring,’ she invented.
‘Of course,’ Natalie agreed sceptically. ‘None of our friends were making nuisances of themselves, were they? I know some of the boys—’
‘No, no, it isn’t that.’ Olivia assured hastily. ‘It really is just tiredness.’
‘You seem—upset about something?’ the other girl persisted.
Was she so transparent? She hadn’t thought she was, had thought she had built up a protective shell these last few days. A few minutes’ conversation with Sally Hamilton, unwilling thoughts of Marcus thrust upon her, and her carefully controlled veneer had been shattered; Natalie sensed it, and now she was forced to acknowledge it to herself too. ‘Tired,’ she insisted firmly, following the other girl out to the car.
Rick frowned at her in the driving-mirror as they drove back to his home. ‘Are you all right?’
‘She’s tired,’ Natalie answered him.
His brows rose. ‘You seemed to be resting when I looked at you. You were talking to Sally for quite some time.’
Olivia moistened her dry lips. ‘She didn’t ever come to the house while you were ill, did she?’ she queried in a casual voice—too casual?
‘Only once, I think,’ Rick answered thoughtfully. ‘It was probably your day off.’
‘Oh, that one,’ Olivia teased.
‘Cheeky!’ he grinned at her.
‘Well, Olivia’s days away from you haven’t exactly been numerous,’ Natalie reasoned.
‘Go on, she’s loved every minute of it.’
‘Yes, I have,’ she agreed warmly.
‘Don’t tell him that,’ Natalie groaned. ‘He’ll be unbearably conceited about it.’
‘And I thought you loved me?’ he groaned.
‘I do—sometimes,’ she added coolly.
‘Thanks!’
‘I think you asked for that one, Rick,’ Olivia laughed.
‘Probably,’ he grimaced.
Oh, she was going to miss this family! That fact was brought home to her even more as she ate a lighthearted meal with them that evening. Clara and Eric had insisted that she ate all her meals with them, treating her like another daughter they had suddenly acquired. Five more days and she would be leaving this happy family group to take care of an elderly lady, and the contrast between the two households would be extreme. But she had chosen her profession, enjoyed it, and if she was sometimes lonely then that was her fault; the offer of boy-friends had been there often over the years. But none of those men had ever measured up to Marcus—
Marcus! Couldn’t she get away from thoughts of him today? It would seem not, as she heard Rick mention Sally Hamilton to his father.
‘Sally’s back from Switzerland,’ he told him.
‘And Marcus?’ Eric enquired.
‘I think he’s back too. I know her grandmother is with her,’ Rick remarked casually.
Sybil—Sybil Carr, Marcus’s mother-in-law. Olivia had met the other woman, had found her reception to be frosty, although in the circumstances that was perhaps understandable. The absent Mr Carr was a wealthy businessman—what else, with Ruth’s air of breeding!—and he had been in America on business during the brief months Oliva had been in Marcus’s life.
‘To stay or just to visit?’ Clara asked interestedly.
‘To stay, I think,’ her son shrugged.
‘Poor Marcus,’ Clara said softly. ‘Still, I don’t suppose there’s much point in Sybil staying in Switzerland now that Gerald is dead.’
So Sybil Carr was now a widow. Olivia somehow couldn’t envisage the haughtily sophisticated woman as a grieving widow, stricken by her loss. No, that role didn’t suit the other woman at all.
‘I’m sorry, Olivia,’ Clara spoke to her in her gentle voice; she was a prettily vague woman who somehow managed to carry on in her own sweet way, never hurting anyone or anything, and her family drew peace from her serenity. Olivia liked the older woman immensely. ‘It’s rude of us to discuss people you don’t know,’ she smiled her apology.
‘Olivia met Sally today,’ Natalie put in, spending more time here than in her own home with her parents.
‘Did you, dear?’ Clara gave one of her vague smiles. ‘She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?’
‘She seemed to be,’ Olivia nodded, then stood up to excuse herself. ‘I have some reading to do before I go on to my next case.’
‘Of course, dear,’ Clara nodded understandingly.
Olivia lingered at Rick’s side. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘Why?’ he grinned. ‘Are you offering to come and tuck me up in bed later?’
‘She’d better not!’ his girl-friend threatened.
‘Why not? She has done for the last three months,’ he mocked.
Natalie looked up at her appealingly. ‘Olivia—’
‘He’s only teasing you,’ she smiled at the other girl. ‘Most of that time I put him in the bed, not tucked him into it!’
She left the room to the sound of teasing laughter and mocking comments, all of them directed at Rick. And at least now the subject of Sally and Marcus had been forgotten.
But not by her. It was all back with a vengeance, all the love, the disillusionment, and finally the pain.
* * *
Being a nurse had seemed so romantically glamorous when she was eighteen, a sort of modern-day Florence Nightingale, soothing a patient’s brow and he or she instantly recovered, and every doctor just longing to fall in love with, and marry, a nurse.
Reality had been less of an ideal, and after six months’ training, three months of it actually working on a ward, the other three in the classroom, Olivia had been forced to acknowledge that there was little romance attached to the profession, only gruelling hard work, and even the lowliest doctors treated her as being beneath their notice, romantically or otherwise. Oh, she had no doubt that a few of the senior nurses had relationships with some of the doctors, but they rarely, if ever, led to anything permanent.
Her first ward had been a children’s, and while some of the children there had been very ill, on the whole it had been an enjoyable time, and death had never touched her.
Her second ward had been something else completely—female medical, a mixture of all ages over twelve, although the younger patients seemed to recover quicker and leave after only short stays with them. Some of the older patients, their healing process not always as healthy, made much longer stays.
It was in this way that she had become fond of Mrs Bateson, a woman in her seventies. It had become part of Olivia’s daily routine to spend several minutes out of her busy day talking with Mrs Bateson about the olden days, her fifty years of marriage to Bert, her six children, twenty grandchildren, and four greatgrandchildren. Emily Bateson was fascinating to talk to, to listen to, and with the lack of a closeness to her own parents Olivia became very fond of the elderly lady.
In fact the first time she had ever seen Marcus she had been standing at Mrs Bateson’s bedside talking to her about the expected visit from her frail husband, for the old lady was never happier than when her husband was going to keep her company for a time, most of her day spent in bed because of her illness.
Emily looked down proudly at the gold band on her wedding finger, worn thin with time. ‘Never been off my finger since the day Bert put it there,’ she glowed.
Olivia found the love the elderly couple still had for each other, even after fifty years of marriage, very beautiful to witness. During visiting time the couple would hold hands like two teenagers, and they never seemed to be angry with each other. Mr Bateson was always bringing a small gift for his wife, even if it was only a small container of talcum powder.
‘Curtains, Nurse,’ Sister Marton said briskly from behind her.
Olivia gave a guilty start and turned selfconsciously, only to collide with the person standing directly behind her. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, her lids fluttering up to meet frosty grey eyes, no sympathy for her embarrassment in the hard face as the man brushed past her to begin examining Mrs Bateson.
She beat a hasty retreat, joining the other nurses who had disappeared into the clinic-room at the advent of a consultant.
‘I see they’ve brought in the big man himself,’ Katy Barnes said softly.
‘Who is he?’ Olivia demanded of her fellow student-nurse in a whisper. As the two most junior nurses they were still a little shy about joining in conversations with the older girls.
‘Marcus Hamilton!’ Katy told her, scandalised that she hadn’t recognised him. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’
He certainly was, as handsome as he was reputed to be. Olivia had heard the hospital gossip about the attractive Mr Hamilton, the hospital’s top surgeon, and having now seen him she had to agree with the majority view—he was devastatingly handsome! He was very tall, with dark brown hair, kept short and tinged with grey at his temples, the face strong and dominating; the grey eyes piercing, the nose long and straight, his mouth stern and forbidding, the jaw angled squarely. As a consultant, high above the level of a doctor, he wore no white coat to identify him, and his dark three-piece suit was superbly tailored to his powerful body, his legs long and muscled.
He was breathtaking, and even Mrs Bateson was later full of her ‘handsome young doctor’, although Marcus Hamilton was obviously in his early thirties. That must have seemed young to Mrs Bateson, although it seemed very mature to Olivia.
After that initial encounter she saw Marcus about the hospital several times, occasionally with other consultants or doctors, but usually alone. He seemed a very solitary man, his aloofness from the rest of the hospital staff making him a prime target for gossip, although it was the same aloofness that made it difficult to find out too much about him. And Olivia was very interested in knowing about him, suffering from her first crush ever on an older man.
It was one day two weeks after their first meeting that Marcus actually spoke to her—and in the circumstances she would rather he hadn’t.
Mrs Bateson had been looking anxiously at the open ward door all during visiting time, and finally it was Marcus Hamilton who came through it and walked to her beside, pulling the curtains about the bed himself, emerging ten minutes later, when all the visitors had gone from the ward, with his face set in harsh lines.
‘Nurse!’ he called Olivia over from where she had been hovering, worried by this strange turn of events.
‘Yes?’ She looked up at him with wide green eyes, so nervous she was shaking. ‘Sir,’ she added belatedly.
He seemed not to notice the drop of etiquette. ‘Would you go in with Mrs Bateson for several minutes? I don’t want her to be alone, one of her daughters should be in soon.’
‘Er—Of course,’ she looked startled. ‘What—’
‘Her husband has just died.’
Olivia didn’t wait to hear any more, but hurried to the elderly lady’s bedside with a strangulated cry of pain. The light had gone from Mrs Bateson’s eyes, and all she could do was clutch on to Olivia’s hand as if she never wanted to let go. She didn’t even cry, although Olivia felt as if she needed to. Sister Marton looked in a few minutes after Marcus had left, nodding approvingly before quietly leaving again.
Time seemed to stand still after that, the time passing although neither of them seemed aware of it; there was no conversation between them, the elderly lady seeming to draw comfort from Olivia being at her side.
Suddenly Mrs Bateson spoke. ‘We always said we wanted to go together,’ she murmured softly.
‘Mrs Bateson—’
‘I can’t go on without Bert,’ the old lady told her sadly. ‘One day you’ll understand, Olivia,’ she used her first name without conscious thought, although Olivia couldn’t remember ever telling it to the other woman, the familiarity not really being allowed. Not that she thought anyone would object in the circumstances! ‘I’ve loved Bert all my life, and without him I just don’t want to live.’ She lay very still in the bed.
‘Mrs Bateson, you mustn’t talk this way—’
‘Nurse King!’
Olivia looked up to see Marcus Hamilton standing just outside the slightly opened curtains that were still pulled about the bed, gently releasing her hand from Mrs Bateson’s to go to him. ‘Yes, sir?’ she queried softly, amazed that he knew her name.
‘How is she?’ His expression was intent.
It was a strange question for a consultant to ask a junior nurse—after all, he was the expert. ‘Er—she’s very shocked—sir,’ she moistened her lips in her nervousness. ‘Although she seems to be coming out of that now,’ she frowned her concern.
‘Yes?’ Marcus Hamilton sensed her worry.
‘She’s talking about dying.’
‘God! Sorry, Nurse King,’ he was at once the controlled consultant once again, ‘I’m going in to talk to her for a few minutes—the family have been delayed, it’s been a great shock to them too. But Sister Marton tells me you have a special relationship with Mrs Bateson?’ His eyes were narrowed.
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘Er—yes, I—I like to think I do,’ she nodded.
‘Then I would appreciate it if you would continue to sit with her once I’ve left.’
‘Yes, Doc—er—sir. Of course.’ She felt no hesitation, although they both knew she should have been off duty hours ago. Or perhaps he didn’t know; he was hardly likely to know the hours of a first-year nurse. But it didn’t matter anyway, she had no intention of leaving the elderly lady.
Marcus Hamilton nodded dismissively. ‘Get yourself a cup of tea and something to eat while I’m with Mrs Bateson. You have about ten minutes,’ he told her arrogantly.
Miraculously Sister Marton had arranged a hot meal and drink for her. ‘You should have gone hours ago,’ she tutted as she supervised the meal. ‘But Mr Hamilton has been most insistent that you stay with Mrs Bateson. I must say that in the circumstances, I agree with him.’
The consultant strode from the ward exactly ten minutes later, his jaw rigid as Olivia hurried past him to return to the elderly lady’s bedside.
‘He’s a nice young man,’ Mrs Bateson sighed, ‘but he doesn’t understand a love like Bert’s and mine.’
‘He’s married—’
‘Separated, he told me.’ She shook her head. ‘You young people take your marriage vows so lightly nowadays!’
‘I’m not married, Mrs Bateson,’ Olivia reminded her gently.
‘You will be.’ Mrs Bateson nodded approvingly. ‘And your husband is going to be a lucky man. You’re a lovely child, Olivia, so wait for the right man to come along—like I did.’
Shortly after that the elderly lady fell asleep, although Olivia still remained at her side, the gnarled work-worn fingers curved trustingly about hers. It had been dark for several hours when Marcus Hamilton appeared again, and considering what a busy man he was Olivia was touched by his concern for his patient. It couldn’t have been the most pleasant of duties to tell her about her husband.
Olivia easily released her hand this time, making her way outside the curtains to speak to him.
‘How is she?’ His expression was grim.
‘Asleep,’ she whispered, as the rest of the ward settled down for the night. ‘Where are her family?’
‘The daughter who was coming to sit with her mother collapsed in Emergency,’ he frowned. ‘Quite understandable. But unfortunately we didn’t make the connection between them until a few minutes ago. I’ve just come to check Mrs Bateson before letting her in to see her mother.’ He went in to see his patient.
He was gone for several minutes, a hand to his temple as he left the bedside. ‘You may as well go, Nurse King,’ he told her curtly. ‘There’s nothing more you can do here.’
Olivia pushed past him, not caring in that moment who or what he was, her panicked gaze fixed on the still figure of Mrs Bateson. ‘I—You—She isn’t dead,’ she choked. ‘She can’t be!’
‘She is.’ His hands steadied her as she would have swayed and fallen. ‘About an hour ago, I would say. She just seems to have stopped breathing.’
‘No!’
‘Nurse King—’
‘Leave me alone!’ She wrenched out of his arms and ran from the ward, the tears falling unchecked.
She ran from the building and into the grounds, stumbling her way through the built-up garden towards the nurses’ home, unaware that she had been followed until strong arms stopped her progress, swinging her round so that she found her face buried against a hard chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marcus Hamilton murmured, letting her cry for several minutes into his snowy white shirt, smelling slightly of some tangy aftershave. ‘That’s enough, Olivia!’ He finally shook her gently as she couldn’t seem to stop the tears.
She raised a tear-wet face to him. ‘It doesn’t seem fair. She was so nice—they both were.’
He produced a snowy white handkerchief and gently began to dry her cheeks. ‘You haven’t looked at this from her point of view, you know,’ he said softly, concentrating on his task.
Olivia swallowed hard, standing docilely in front of him now. ‘I don’t understand …’
‘She’s with her husband now, the way she wanted to be.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
He nodded. ‘Of course. So it isn’t a time to cry, is it?’
‘I—’
‘She would never have got well again, Olivia,’ he told her gently. ‘We’d done all we could for her—and it just wasn’t enough.’
She bit her lip. ‘It still doesn’t seem fair.’
‘Life seldom is.’ He held out his handkerchief to her. ‘Blow your nose,’ he encouraged softly. ‘You’ll feel better.’
‘I—I have my own.’ Now that the shock was passing she was beginning to realise how unorthodox this was. Marcus Hamilton shouldn’t even know she was alive, let alone be comforting her like this! ‘I’m sorry,’ she sounded more controlled now, ‘I—I didn’t mean to cry all over you.’
‘You’ve just never been that close to death before?’ he prompted.
‘No,’ she confirmed huskily.
‘Believe me,’ his voice was gruff as he straightened his shoulders wearily, ‘it never gets any easier.’
Olivia blinked up at him in surprise, her lashes still spiky and damp from where she had been crying. Marcus Hamilton was very pale, a ring of white tension about his mouth, his expression strained. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said dazedly, ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘People seldom do,’ he rasped. ‘Doctors aren’t supposed to feel emotions, especially surgeons.’
‘I really am sorry.’ It had never occurred to her that this hard man could be affected by death as much as she was.
‘But you still aren’t convinced, are you?’ he said ruefully.
‘Convinced?’ She looked puzzled, sure that if he said he was upset by Mrs Bateson’s death then he was. What reason would he have to lie?
‘That I can feel as much as the next man,’ he drawled in reply.
‘Oh, I—But I—’ her words were cut off by a coolly possessive mouth claiming hers. Marcus Hamilton was kissing her! It seemed hard to believe, although the ruthless insistence of his lips couldn’t be imagined. ‘Mr Hamilton!’ she gasped when he at last raised his head to look down at her.
‘Indeed,’ he derided. ‘Shocking, isn’t it?’
‘Well, I—I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,’ she blushed.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Dark brows rose over steely grey eyes.
‘No,’ she admitted shyly. She had liked the way he kissed her, not been shocked by it. Surprised would be a better way of describing the way she felt. He was so experienced, had kissed her with a thoroughness that set her heart racing, his lips evoking a response from her that had been as spontaneous as it was unreserved.
‘I would.’ He put her firmly away from him, his expression grim. ‘I have a daughter only six years younger than you.’
‘And I have a father fifteen years older than you,’ she retorted. ‘So please don’t try to make it look as if you’re in the least like a father-figure to me.’
Humour lightened the colour of his eyes. ‘That’s put me firmly in my place! Thank you, Olivia,’ he said soberly. ‘I think I occasionally need reminding that thirty-three isn’t old. Now off you go. And please believe that Mrs Bateson is where she wanted to be—with her husband.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘And thank you—for everything.’
‘My pleasure,’ he drawled derisively before turning back towards the hospital building.
Olivia absently answered the greetings she received on the way to her room. She still grieved for Mrs Bateson, would miss her smiling cheerfulness on the ward, and this loss pushed the importance of that unexpected kiss from her mind.
She only had one more day to work before four straight days off, the two days of this week joining up with the two for next week, giving her a nice long break. But that one day on the ward seemed to drag by, the empty bed in the middle of the room a constant reminder of Mrs Bateson’s death. Her fully recovered daughter came on to the ward late that afternoon to collect her mother’s things, and her red-rimmed eyes told the whole story of how heartbroken she was to lose both her parents on the same day.
Olivia’s days off were welcome after the trauma and strain of that last day, although as usual she spent the time at the nurses’ home, only very rarely making the journey from this London hospital to her parents’ home in Wales.
On the third day she attended the joint funeral of the Batesons. She had never been to a funeral before, and wasn’t particularly looking forward to going to this one, and yet her genuine affection for the elderly couple merited this last show of respect on her behalf.
She didn’t wear black, not being a member of the family, but her clothing was sombre, the brightness of her shoulder-length hair muted by being secured at her nape with a black ribbon.
The buses ran regularly from outside the hospital, and she could see the right one coming for her destination as she reached the bus stop?
‘Like a lift, Olivia?’
She frowned down at the driver of the huge car parked at the side of the road. ‘Mr Hamilton …’
He leant over to thrust the passenger door open. ‘Get in.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘I’m going to the funeral too, Olivia,’ he told her abruptly. ‘Please get in,’ he repeated. ‘I’m about to cause a traffic jam.’ He looked pointedly at the rapidly approaching bus.
She climbed into the burgundy-coloured Rolls-Royce, the engine only a gentle purr in the background as they drove further into town.
‘You look different out of uniform,’ Marcus Hamilton suddenly broke the tense silence between them. At least, it was tense on Olivia’s part, as usual she could tell nothing of this man’s feelings, from his enigmatic expression.
‘Thank you—I think,’ she added uncertainly.
For the first time since she had seen him he smiled, deep grooves visible in his cheeks, his teeth very white against his dark skin, his eyes a warm grey. ‘You can take it as a compliment,’ he drawled. ‘Although the uniform is quite flattering on you too.’
She blushed shyly. She hadn’t seen him the last three days except for a brief glimpse on the ward on Friday, and remembering that kiss they had shared she felt embarrassed about being with him now.
‘We’re, going to a funeral, Olivia,’ he derided at her silence. ‘Not to my home.’
‘Yes—er—sir.’
‘Marcus,’ he substituted hardly.
She couldn’t possibly be that informal with this autocratic man, so she remained silent for the remainder of the drive, swallowing hard as he parked the car with the others outside the church.
He studied her pale face as he helped her out of the car. ‘It’s all right, Olivia,’ he assured her softly, clasping her elbow once again after locking the car. ‘I’ll be right beside you. If you want to come out just say so and we will.’
The service was short and beautiful, the words for the elderly couple sincerely moving, and the tears flowed unchecked. A snowy white handkerchief suddenly appeared in front of Olivia’s blurred gaze, and she took it gratefully.
‘This is getting to be a habit,’ Marcus, murmured softly. ‘No, keep it,’ he advised as she offered it back to him. ‘You might need it again.’
She stood silently at his side as she spoke to the family outside after the service, his hand still firm on her elbow as he offered his quiet condolences.
‘I’m afraid Olivia and I have to get back now,’ he politely refused the eldest daughter’s invitation back to the house.
‘We realise what busy people you are,’ the woman gave them a wan smile. ‘We’re just grateful you could come.’
Almost as if they were actually a couple! No one seemed to think it in the least odd that they were here together like this.
Well, Olivia thought it very odd. Senior consultants just didn’t take this amount of interest in their juniors, and yet the masculine smell of cologne that clung to the handkerchief she still held told her it was all reality.
‘Tea?’ Marcus suggested on the drive back to the hospital.
‘Er—no,’ she answered awkwardly, ‘thank you. I have to get back now.’
‘Why?’
‘Sorry?’ she frowned.
‘Why do you have to get back?’ Marcus nodded. ‘This is your day off, isn’t it? Unless of course you have a date now?’ he quirked one dark brow.
‘How did you know it was my day off?’
‘Well, you’re here, aren’t you?’ he mocked.
She blushed at her stupidty. But however much she would have liked to have tea with him, to have perhaps learnt more about the break-up of his marriage, and his little girl, it just wasn’t possible. Years of protocol established long before she was born dictated that she couldn’t accept his invitation. She just wished she knew what had prompted him to make it.
‘I do have a date,’ she invented. ‘Maybe some other time.’
‘Yes,’ his voice was terse. ‘As you say, some other time. ‘
Olivia was aware of his silent anger for the rest of the journey, but what else had he expected! He might find it amusing to be entertained by her for a few hours, but she had to face the rest of the hospital staff, not him. The gossip about them wouldn’t touch him in his lofty position, but she would come out of it less unscathed.
It wasn’t until she reached her room in the nurses’ home that she remembered his handkerchief still clutched in her hand. She would have to launder it and return it to him as soon as possible. And if she were honest with herself she was pleased to have this excuse to talk to him again.
Her opportunity came her first day back at work. Marcus was doing his usual ward round, with six or seven student doctors hanging on his every word and Sister Marton hovering on the edge of the crowd seeing that he had each patient’s notes at the precise moment he needed them. Marcus was the first to leave Sister Marton’s office after the round, so Olivia seized her opportunity.
‘Mr Hamilton!’ She hurried after him, pulling the neatly folded handkerchief out of her pocket.
He took it wordlessly, pushing it into his breast pocket; several files were tucked under his other arm.
She touched the sleeve of his jacket. ‘I—Thank you.’
‘Yes.’ He looked down pointedly at her hand, meeting her gaze coolly after she had removed it. ‘If you’ll excuse me …’
She took the rebuff for exactly what it was, making a promise to herself that she wouldn’t bother him again. He obviously regretted his friendliness of yesterday, and she wouldn’t remind him of it again!
She might have decided that, but it didn’t stop her feeling any less miserable, and the news that she had a telephone call later that evening didn’t help either. Her steps were slow as she went to the communal callbox in the nurses’ home.
She knew who it was going to be, knew there would probably be another argument with her mother because she didn’t go home enough. Never mind the fact that she and her father argued non-stop when she did go home!
‘Hello,’ she greeted lightly, deciding she might as well start off on the right foot!
The voice that answered her was definitely male, and it wasn’t her father. ‘Olivia?’
‘Yes,’ she frowned her uncertainty, not recognising the voice at all.
‘I’d like to see you. I have to see you,’ the man amended raggedly.
‘Who is that?’ she demanded to know.
‘God, I must be mad,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I’m sorry I troubled you. I—’
‘Marcus!’ she suddenly realised. ‘Marcus, is that you?’
‘Yes,’ he confirmed shakily. ‘I’ve just had a scene with Sally, and I—’
‘Sally?’
‘My daughter,’ he explained impatiently. ‘It doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry I bothered you.’
‘Would you like to talk about it?’ she prompted gently, ignoring his lapse back into the controlled consultant, appealing to the man who had telephoned her out of desperation.
There was silence for several long seconds after her question. ‘Yes,’ he sighed at last. ‘I have to talk to someone. But it’s so difficult over the telephone, and I can’t leave Sally, it’s our housekeeper’s night off.’
‘Where do you live?’ she asked.
‘Where do I—? Olivia, are you saying you’ll come here?’ He sounded astounded.
‘If you want me to,’ she answered without hesitation, no longer caring that he was a top consultant and she was only a junior nurse; they were a man and a woman, and Marcus needed to be with someone tonight. She felt grateful that she was that someone, felt a new maturity at his trust in her.
‘Olivia, are you sure this is what you want?’ He seemed to hesitate.
‘As sure as you were when you decided to make the call,’ she told him briskly. ‘The address?’
He didn’t hesitate any more—and neither did she, grabbing a lightweight jacket to pull on over her blouse, the latter tucked into her denims, her waist, narrow hips and long legs all clearly outlined against the skin-tight material. The taxi-driver raised his brows as she gave him the address, charging her an exorbitant fee, since the address indicated she could well afford it, being in a quietly exclusive part of London, the house one of several in a private square.
Marcus opened the door before she even had time to ring the bell, looking completely different from the Marcus Hamilton she had come to know as he walked about the hospital, as casually dressed as herself, in black trousers and a grey shirt unbuttoned partway down his throat. His avid gaze searched her shy face. ‘Olivia …!’ he breathed.
‘Yes,’ she said needlessly.
He gave a ragged sigh, pulling her inside the house before taking her hungrily into his arms. ‘God, Olivia!’ His mouth came down fiercely on hers, bending her body into his as she clung to him, making no secret of his desire for her. ‘Olivia, Olivia, Olivia!’ He smoothed back her tumbled curls, the last cry of her name coming out as a triumphant laugh, one of his rare smiles lighting his austere features. ‘God, you’re beautiful!’ He shook his head almost dazedly.
She moistened her lips, aware that they had a tingling sensation from the force of his kiss. ‘I am?’ She gave an uncertain smile.
‘You are.’ With his arm still about her waist he took her into the lounge, a strange uncomfortably modern room, the furniture all angles and squares, white fluffy rugs scattered about the highly polished floor, modern pictures hung on the white walls. It didn’t look like Marcus at all. ‘My wife’s choice of décor,’ he explained with feeling. ‘I just haven’t got around to changing it yet.’
‘Of course,’ she bit on her bottom lip. ‘You’re separated.’
He nodded abruptly and moved away from her. ‘In the process of getting a divorce. Which is precisely the reason Sally and I argued.’
‘Oh,’ Olivia grimaced. ‘Do you think it’s wise to argue with her about it? She needs your love and understanding, not more arguments.’
He sighed. ‘I’ve tried to be understanding, but I’m afraid it isn’t a two-way thing at the moment. Sally has the ridiculous idea that I’m going to start bringing a string of different women to the house.’ He saw her smile, his expression rueful as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘I know—hardly my image, is it?’
‘Daddy—’ A young girl came to a halt in the doorway, her rebellious grey eyes focusing on Olivia before she turned angrily on her father. ‘You didn’t waste any time, did you?’ she accused. ‘And to think I came down here to apologise for being silly!’
‘Sally—’
‘Leave me alone!’ she almost spat the words at him. ‘Mummy was right, men aren’t to be trusted!’ She slammed back out of the room.
Stunned silence followed her exit before Olivia hastily gathered her thoughts together. ‘I don’t think it was such a good idea for me to come here after all. I thought if you could talk to me I might be able to help, but instead I’ve—’
‘Been subjected to my daughter’s rudeness,’ Marcus said grimly, running a weary hand through the dark thickness of his hair. ‘It’s been like this ever since Ruth and I separated six months ago. I’m running out of solutions.’
‘I think all your daughter needs is time—and me out of the house,’ Olivia added ruefully. ‘I think you should go up and talk to her.’
‘And what are you going to do?’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes.
She shrugged. ‘I’ll go back to the nursing home and do some studying—and goodness knows I need to!’ she added lightly. ‘I don’t know how you ever remember it all.’
‘Experience,’ he derided dryly. ‘You really do want to go?’
‘I think I should,’ she answered evasively.
‘But do you want to?’ He watched her intently.
‘No,’ she admitted truthfully.
‘I was hoping that would be your answer,’ he gave another of his rare but mesmerising smiles. ‘My housekeeper usually sits with Sally if I’m out in the evening, so will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?’ His hands grasped her upper arms strongly.
Olivia was almost hypnotised by the deep grey of his eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Yes, I’d like to.’
It was to be the first of many evenings they were to spend together, although on none of them was Marcus ever as intense as he had been that first evening at his home. He would be an entertaining companion, give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before they parted, usually arranging to see her again in a couple of days’ time, but never again did he kiss her with passion.
By tacit agreement they didn’t make their friendship obvious at the hospital, being completely cool to each other whenever they happened to meet there. And although several of Olivia’s friends teased her about her mysterious new boy-friend, none of them guessed she was secretly seeing Marcus Hamilton. She wasn’t sure any of them would have believed her if she had told them—she wasn’t sure she believed it herself half the time!
Sally Hamilton had point-blankly refused to meet her, and in the circumstances Olivia couldn’t exactly blame her. She wasn’t even sure herself what part she played in Marcus’s life; she only knew that for the moment he seemed to need her, her quiet presence, her gentle teasing if he should happen to become too grim. And not once did he mention his wife to her, whether through marital bitterness or just uninterest, she didn’t know.
Then one night their relationship changed drastically, Marcus telephoning her urgently to put off their meeting for that evening. ‘My mother-in-law has turned up to see Sally,’ he explained tersely. ‘I can hardly deny her, she is Sally’s grandmother.’
‘Of course,’ Olivia agreed quietly, for the first time realising the consequences of going out with a man who was still married to another woman. ‘I understand,’ she said, not understanding at all. Was Marcus ashamed of his relationship with her, was that why he was so determined no one should know about it?
There was silence at the other end of the telephone for several long minutes as Marcus sensed her confusion. ‘Come and meet Sybil,’ he invited suddenly. ‘Then you’ll see why I was so anxious for you not to do so.’
She did indeed. Sybil Carr was still a beautiful woman despite being in her mid-fifties, her figure slender, her black hair fashionable grey at the peak. She was also bitchy and condescending, treating Olivia as being no older than her granddaughter, the latter having graciously consented to sit down to dinner with Olivia, obviously enjoying her grandmother’s treatment of the woman she didn’t like and had no intention of attempting to like.
It was a strained and uncomfortable evening for Olivia, and Sybil Carr’s friendly word of warning about ‘middle-aged men trying to recapture their youth with a younger woman’ was the worst of it. The two women unexpectedly found themselves alone in the lounge when Marcus went upstairs to say goodnight to Sally, and Sybil Carr took full advantage of the opportunity this gave her to warn Olivia off him.
‘Well?’ Marcus arched dark brows questioningly as he drove her back to the nurses’ home.
‘I shouldn’t have come,’ she confirmed woodenly, still shaken by what Sybil Carr had said to her. ‘Your mother-in-law believes you will eventually go back to your wife.’ The words came out in a rush as she couldn’t hold them in any longer.
He stiffened, his expression remote. ‘I wasn’t the one to leave, she was.’
‘And if she wanted to come back?’
‘She’s never asked to.’
‘But—’
‘I do not wish to discuss my wife, Olivia,’ he told her harshly. ‘She has no relevance to our relationship. Sybil may believe what she likes, but I don’t expect you to listen to her.’
If only she had more confidence in his feelings for her! And yet Sybil Carr had been so patronising about Marcus’s interest in her, had called it a fantasy for him, every man’s dream of having a young girl infatuated with him. She had also pointed out that Marcus needed someone with more sophistication, that he would soon tire of a child like her. Her last warning had had the most effect on Olivia, telling her that Ruth Hamilton had realised the mistake she made in leaving her husband and daughter, that she was now prepared to come home.
Marcus hadn’t denied wanting his wife back, now, he had merely said she hadn’t asked to come back. There was a vast difference between the two answers.
‘Olivia?’
‘Sorry.’ She came out of her reverie to look at him, finding his gaze levelled on her. ‘Your mother-in-law doesn’t like me.’
His expression lightened as he turned back to the road. ‘She isn’t supposed to, I am.’
‘And do you?’ she asked huskily.
His hand left the steering-wheel to grasp hers. ‘You know I do.’
‘I—You never show me that you do,’ she said hesitantly, needing his reassurance tonight. ‘You’re always so—distant with me.’
He didn’t answer her, taking his hand from hers to stare rigidly ahead. Heavens, what had she done now!
Marcus stopped the car a short distance from the hosptial as he usually did, turning to look at her.
‘Olivia—’ he seemed to be searching for the right words. ‘If I—I’m afraid that if I once start kissing you I won’t be able to stop! Can you understand that?’ He looked at her appealingly.
Her eyes were wide. ‘No.’
He sighed. ‘I didn’t think you would. Come here.’ He opened his arms to her.
She went into them unquestioningly, gasping at the fierceness with which he claimed her lips, moulding her torso to his, making her aware of the rapid beat of his heart. One hand moved to curve possessively over her breast, locating the taut nipple through the thin material of her blouse, his touch sure and demanding.
‘I want you,’ he groaned into her throat. ‘I want you so, Olivia.’
She was lost in the wonder of his caresses after weeks of starvation, loving the feel of his lips against her skin, her head thrown back as he smoothed the material away from her breasts, capturing one red-tipped nipple between his pleasure-giving lips, his tongue erotic against the hardened nub, and spasms of pleasure coursed through her body. She held his head against her, her fingers fevered in the thickness of his hair, kissing his temple with trembling lips, gasping as his teeth bit gently into her sensitive nipple, causing no pain, only pleasure.
‘Come home with me. Olivia,’ he murmured against her mouth, nibbling gently on the lower lip, drawing it into his own in a message of eroticism. ‘Come home and share my bed,’ he encouraged raggedly.
‘I—’
‘Olivia? Olivia, telephone!’
Her memories of Marcus were interrupted with a suddenness that left her stunned for several seconds. It had all seemed so vivid, so real, just as if it had happened yesterday and not six years ago.
‘Olivia?’ A brief knock was followed by Natalie actually coming into the bedroom. ‘There’s a telephone call for you.’
Olivia dragged herself back from the past with effort, standing up. ‘Do you know who it is?’ She pushed her hair back from her face.
‘Sally Hamilton,’ Natalie supplied in a puzzled voice. ‘And she sounded very urgent.’
Olivia froze as soon as she heard the name of her caller. What on earth could Sally Hamilton want to talk to her about? The girl had seemed pleased to see her this afternoon, and it had been nice to see what a pleasant young woman she had grown up into. But Olivia didn’t want the meeting to go any further than that, and she intended making that clear to Sally.
She picked up the receiver as it lay beside the telephone in the hallway, conscious of Natalie’s curious looks before she went back to join the family in the lounge. ‘Sally, I—’
‘Oh, thank God you’re there!’ the girl choked before Olivia could say any more. ‘It’s Daddy, he—he’s been in a serious car accident. He—he has head injuries. Olivia, they aren’t sure if—if he’s going to live!’
