The Real Fantasy
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Caroline Anderson
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Chapter 1
LINSEY felt marvellous. The sun was shining, the gulls were screaming overhead and the salt-laden wind was tugging at her hair. Standing on the waterfront near the Royal Lymington Yacht Club, listening to the gulls and the rhythmic slap of the rigging against the masts as the boats rocked at their moorings, she felt as if she’d come home.
She looked over to the right, to the place where she had nearly drowned, and felt nothing. Good. She had been worried that it might unsettle her, but it didn’t. It had all been over so quickly—all except the image of those astonishing gun-metal-grey eyes, the colour of a stormy sea.
She could still see his eyes as he’d bent over her, smoothing her hair back from her face, the gesture unexpectedly tender.
‘Who are you?’ she’d asked, her voice croaky and hoarse with the swallowed water, and he’d smiled like quicksilver.
‘My name’s Matthew. I’m a doctor. You’re all right now; just rest for a moment. They’ve called an ambulance.’
‘Stay with me,’ she’d begged, hanging on his arm, and so he had, his fingers laced with hers, his other hand smoothing her hair rhythmically. His voice had been deep and soothing—a reassuring murmur that gradually replaced the thunder of her heartbeat as it steadied.
Then the ambulance had come and whisked her away, but the look in his eyes had stayed with her, warming her chilled body and dissolving her fear.
He had visited her that evening, just briefly, bringing her flowers and refusing to stay.
‘My fiancée’s waiting,’ he’d said, and she’d felt a crazy and irrational disappointment.
The following morning her parents had taken her home from the hospital, none the worse for her ordeal and only slightly sorry to miss the end of her sailing holiday.
She had never seen him or heard from him again, but she had never forgotten him, or what he had done for her.
She turned now and headed back towards her car, parked nearby in one of the quiet streets. Her interview was in half an hour, and she had to find the practice yet.
She followed the signs through Lower Pennington to Milhaven, and then turned down a quiet, leafy road off the high street. About halfway along, amongst the dentists and the orthodontists and the premises of other GPs, she found the surgery.
‘Drs Jarvis, Farmer, Williams and Wilson’, it said on a shiny brass plate on the gatepost. A big, double-fronted Edwardian semi-detached house with tile-hung elevations, it was welcoming and friendly, with colourful hanging baskets and pots by the front door to welcome patients. There was parking for them in what had been the front garden, and a sign pointing round the back said, ‘Parking For Surgery Staff Only. Please Keep Clear.’
According to the letter in Linsey’s bag, there were three men and one woman in the practice, with two nurses, a practice manager, two receptionists and a part-time accountant as well as the district nurses and midwives, chiropodist, dietician and physiotherapists attached to the practice, and the trainer was Dr J M Jarvis.
She eyed the parking space at the front, then the sign pointing to the back. The surgery was obviously still busy, judging by the number of patients’ cars. She drove down the back, parked in the space labelled ‘Visitor’ and headed towards the front door.
As she did so a head appeared at one of the windows on the ground floor in what looked like a little extension. ‘Dr Wheeler?’
She stopped. ‘Yes?’
The face smiled. ‘Come on in through the back door. It’s open.’
She did as instructed and was greeted by the smiling face, this time attached to a plump, maternal body.
Her hand was warmly shaken. ‘I’m Suzanne White, the practice manager. Come on in. The doctors are still busy in surgery at the moment, I’m afraid, but they’ll be with us soon. Can I get you a cup of coffee while we wait for them?’
‘Oh, please. That would be lovely after my journey.’
She followed the short, plump woman through into the kitchen. ‘Have a seat, Dr Wheeler,’ Suzanne suggested, and Linsey made herself at home at the kitchen table. The coffee was real, from a filter machine, and smelled wonderful. Suzanne set two mugs on the table and pulled out the chair opposite; then, seated, her dumpy hands wrapped round her own mug, she chatted cheerfully.
‘Find us all right? It’s quite easy.’
‘Yes, no problems. The directions were excellent.’ She had guessed that the directions were from Suzanne, and, judging by the slight warmth in the woman’s face, Linsey thought she was right. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to be on the right side of the practice manager, she reasoned, quelling the little wriggle of guilt.
‘It gets a bit easier as the season comes to an end. The tourist traffic can make it all a bit confusing. Summer is usually the worst, of course. Do you know the area?’
‘Only slightly. I had a sailing holiday here once, years ago.’
‘Ah, a nautical type. Do you still sail?’
Linsey shook her head and smiled. ‘No. I haven’t had much chance in Birmingham. I’d like to start again, though, and I love to be near the sea.’
‘Oh, so do I. I can’t go on it, mind—I get as sick as a parrot just thinking about it; but there’s something about the atmosphere—nothing else is quite like it, and nothing can take its place for me, summer or winter.’ She sat back, her smile warm and relaxed. ‘So, when did you decide you wanted to be a GP?’
Linsey sensed she was being interviewed now, but it didn’t matter. The answer to this question was easy.
‘Eight years ago—down here, actually. I met a doctor under rather fortuitous circumstances.’ She gave a little laugh. Talk about understatement. ‘Anyway, I was eighteen, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and because there’s nobody medical in my family it just hadn’t occurred to me. It did then, though, and I realised it was the least I could do.’
Suzanne’s brow creased. ‘The least you could do? In what way?’
Linsey shrugged slightly. ‘I owed him my life, quite literally, and training as a doctor was the only way I could think off to repay the debt—put something back in humanity’s pot, if you like. It all sounds a bit melodramatic and crazy, doesn’t it, really? But at the time it seemed quite logical!’
Suzanne laughed. ‘I’m sure it was, and it’s as good a reason as any for going in for medicine. I’m sure a lot of people have weaker reasons.’
‘I’m sure too,’ Linsey agreed, thinking of some of the people she had trained with. ‘Anyway, that was what I ended up doing, and thank God I did, because I discovered that I love medicine and I can’t imagine doing anything else. I just wish I could thank him. I owe him more than I can ever say. I really didn’t want to drown!’
‘Drown?’ Suzanne’s eyes widened. ‘I thought he’d detected some insidious disease or something!’
‘Oh, no.’ Linsey laughed. ‘I haven’t had a day’s illness in my life—well, apart from breaking my leg as a child. No, he pulled me out of the river.’
‘The river?’ Suzanne’s eyes widened even further. ‘Good gracious. Tell me more about this rescue. It all sounds terribly dramatic.’
Linsey laughed softly. ‘It was, for a few short seconds. I’d had a bit to drink and I fell off a boat. He fished me out of the river at Lymington.’
‘I see what you mean about fortuitous! He really did save your life.’
‘Oh, yes. I wasn’t joking. I suppose any good swimmer could have got me out of the water and any first-aider could have revived me, and there were plenty of people there, so if it hadn’t been him it would have been someone else. That’s not the point, though. He made me think about medicine as a career, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
A snort behind her made her turn, and she looked up—and up—at a tall man with dark hair and laughing grey eyes. ‘Clearly you’ve not been in medicine. long enough. Still, you’re just starting. Perhaps in a few years you’ll be jaded like the rest of us. I take it you’re Dr Wheeler? I’m Rhys Williams. The others will be along in a tick, I expect, barring earthquake and civil commotion.’
She smiled and shook the profferred hand, liking the big, friendly man immediately, and Dr Williams hooked out a chair, reversed it and settled his large, solidly muscled body on it. His hands engulfed the steaming mug of coffee that Suzanne put in front of him, and he turned to Linsey again.
‘So, you’re a career doctor, are you?’ he said with a grin. ‘I wonder how long that’ll last.’
She returned the grin. ‘It’s lasted so far. I see no reason why it should stop now.’
‘Paperwork?’ he said wryly.
She laughed. ‘Every job has its downside. Look on the bright side—you could have been an accountant!’
Rhys shuddered eloquently. ‘God forbid. I’ll settle for endless form-filling. Ah, here’s the boss.’
Still laughing, Linsey turned towards the door as another man entered, shrugging out of his sports jacket. As he did so a little shiver of awareness shimmered through her. Adrenalin, or another equally basic hormone? Both, probably.
Her eyes devoured him, taking in the lean, rangy build and powerful shoulders at a glance. He was big—not quite as tall or as solid as Rhys, but big for all that—his mid-brown hair cut conventionally short, his immaculate white shirt tapering from broad shoulders to tuck into well-cut khaki trousers that hugged his slim hips and emphasised the long, rangy legs.
She took all this in in the brief second before he met her eyes, and then without warning her heart jammed in her throat. Those eyes! It couldn’t be...
‘Matthew?’ she said breathlessly.
His face was stunned for a moment, then warmth flared in his eyes—those incredible, dark gun-metal eyes that she had never forgotten.
He dropped his jacket over a chair and walked towards her as she stood up, reaching out for her hands. His fingers were warm and hard and strong—fingers that had plucked her from the jaws of death—and she clung to them as he stared at her. ‘Linsey?’ he said questioningly, his voice disbelieving. His eyes tracked her face, registering the eyes, the mouth, the hair. His knuckles brushed her cheek. ‘My God, it really is you.’
She felt the silly grin but could do nothing to hide it. ‘Yes, it is. It really is. This is amazing. Oh, Matthew—I’ve just been talking about you!’ With a delighted laugh she flung her arms round him and hugged him hard.
After a brief hesitation his arms came up and hugged her back, then he held her at arm’s length and looked at her for a moment, shaking his head slowly from side to side.
If the others hadn’t been there she might have stayed there all day gazing into his eyes, but with the remnants of her presence of mind she straightened away from him and gave another little laugh.
‘Wow, you look different to what I remember.’
‘So do you—cleaner, for a start. And vertical. I hadn’t realised you were so tall.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t. Being five foot ten isn’t exactly an advantage in life.’
‘You can see over the crowds.’
She laughed. ‘Especially at a party. Straight over the top of most of the men there.’
He looked down into her eyes. ‘Not all of them.’
‘No.’ She returned his gaze, conscious of his height and nearness. ‘No, not all of them.’ She pulled herself together. ‘Do you know, I’ve waited so long to thank you for what you did?’
He laughed awkwardly. ‘You did thank me. Over and over again. So, I take it you were all right? No after-effects? Dreams—that sort of thing?’
Dreams? Oh, yes, there had been dreams—and he had starred in most of them. She could hardly tell him that, because it wasn’t at all what he meant. She carefully schooled her expression. ‘No. No after-effects.’
‘Is this your phantom rescuer, then?’ Suzanne asked curiously.
Linsey dragged her eyes from Matthew’s and turned to the practice manager. ‘Yes—yes, he is.’ She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘My mystery doctor.’
‘Hardly a mystery.’ His voice was gruff, and as she looked up at him she saw that his eyes were bright with emotion. He moved away from her, clearing his throat, taking the coffee-mug Suzanne pushed into his hands.
‘So,’ he said at last, ‘is this just coincidence that you’re here?’
The silly grin was back. ‘Yes. Absolutely. Well, not entirely, I suppose, in that I thought it would be appropriate to come back to where it all started, but I had no idea it was your practice.’
He looked confused, but Suzanne filled him in.
‘It was here she decided to become a doctor, apparently, after you fished her out of the river.’
‘Really? It’s my fault?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. So I hope you’re going to finish what you started and offer to train me.’ Her grin was irrepressible, and behind Matthew she saw Rhys snort with laughter.
‘Oh, I think it would be obligatory, don’t you, Matthew?’
Matthew’s eyes cut to his colleague, one brow arched. ‘I think it would be appropriate to find out first if we’re all able to offer what the other party wants, don’t you?’
Oops. Linsey realised she’d overstepped the mark, but she couldn’t retract the words and she didn’t want to. Instead she added to them, softening the effect with a teasing smile. ‘Oh, of course. It’s always possible that I may not want to train here. After all, I hardly met you. I might have imagined all those sterling qualities.’
Matthew blushed, to her amazement, and Rhys, far from looking offended by Matthew’s put-down, laughed again. ‘Very likely,’ he said agreeably, and shot Linsey a grin. ‘How long ago was it?’
‘Eight years.’
‘Yes, it must be,’ Matthew agreed. His colour was back to normal but he was watching Linsey curiously. ‘I’d just started here as a trainee myself. God, it feels like a lifetime.’ He pulled himself together visibly and looked at Rhys. ‘Rosie’s on the drag and Tim’s out on a call. Shall we have some lunch while we wait?’
Rhys nodded. ‘Sure. I’m starving; I missed breakfast again. The others can join us when they’re ready.’
‘I’ve put it all out in the sun room,’ Suzanne told them, and then made herself scarce while Matthew led them through into the room from which Suzanne had waved to Linsey as she’d arrived. A small extension, it overlooked the car park at the back, but it was warm and sunny, there were tall trees to offer interest and it was obviously their cherished retreat. She could imagine them snoozing there between clinics after a busy night on call, catnapping as only doctors seemed able to do.
A delicious cold buffet was set out on the low table between the wicker chairs, and at Matthew’s suggestion she helped herself and then took one of the chairs, sinking down into the soft, welcoming cushions. Oh, yes, definitely a place for snoozing and retreating—but not now.
Matthew sat opposite her, Rhys on the big sofa, his long legs stuck out, the plate balanced on his lap.
He looked totally relaxed—unlike Matthew who was watching Linsey as if she were a bug under a microscope.
‘So, you decided to take up medicine after you met me, is that right?’
She nodded.
‘Is that a good enough reason? It seems rather fanciful to me.’
She laughed a little uneasily, uncomfortable with the criticism. She knew that he was just examining her motives, but even so...
‘Not really. I didn’t know what I wanted from life. If the truth be told I was a spoilt brat and I hadn’t really given my future a second’s serious thought. It was all getting a bit urgent, though, because it was the end of August and I’d prevaricated for so long that I’d lost the place I was offered at Oxford and it was a case of finding somewhere else to take me.’
‘So did you start the year after?’
‘No—no, that year. I rang up a few colleges and chatted to a few people and got a place in London.’
‘Just like that?’ Matthew said in astonishment.
She shrugged diffidently. ‘I fulfilled the entry requirements.’
‘Somewhat,’ Rhys said through a forkful of chicken and rice. ‘Four A grades at A level and an Oxbridge entrance pass. I should think they were falling over themselves to have you.’
She felt warmth steal over her skin and played with her food for a moment. ‘Not really. They were a bit sceptical of my motives too. I had to work my charm a bit at the interview.’
‘You must have been very convincing,’ Matthew said drily.
‘Apparently,’ she agreed, ignoring his tone. ‘They took me and I worked very hard to give them no cause to regret their decision.’
Matthew looked slightly disbelieving. ‘So, like Saul on the road to Damascus, the scales fell from your eyes and you saw the light, knuckled under and stopped playing at life, is that right?’
She was astonished. Why was he so hostile all of a sudden? Because she’d made that joke about him having to take her on? Oh, hell—her and her big mouth.
‘Something like that,’ she replied, trying to keep her tone light.
‘So why general practice?’
‘Variety? I’d get bored specialising in one field. I love people and their problems and difficulties. I suppose I’m an inveterate Nosy Parker, and I can’t bear people coming and going in clinics without any continuity. I thought general practice would give me a chance to get to know families and work with them over a long period of time.’
‘To satisfy your curiosity?’
Lord, she’d asked for it. She should never have said ‘Nosy Parker’. When would she learn to think before she spoke? ‘No, not to satisfy my curiosity,’ she corrected him. ‘More to give me an opportunity to do the job properly.’
‘And is that important to you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘There’s no “of course” about it. Lots of people end up in general practice because they’re no good at anything else.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m not one of them.’ Her voice was serious now and she gave up on any attempt to charm him with light-hearted banter. Clearly it wasn’t what he wanted to hear and he was determined to think the worst of her. He probably even thought she’d applied for the job knowing he was there, intending to trade on the tenuous link between them, and he had obviously decided—probably years ago—that she was a dumb blonde and a total airhead. She would have to prove him wrong.
She looked him in the eye and went on, ‘If you believe general practice is for those who couldn’t make it in hospital medicine then I don’t think you should be a trainer.’
She heard a muffled snort of laughter from Rhys, and Matthew’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ he said crisply. ‘So, Dr Wheeler, would you like to elaborate on your theme of doing the job properly?’
She could hardly miss the splinter of sarcasm in his tone. She forced a smile. ‘Of course. I think continuity of care is extremely important. Without it mistakes are made, people die needlessly and suffer unnecessarily because with the best will in the world we can’t write down everything we observe, and the next doctor to see the patient hasn’t got the necessary benchmarks.’
‘Ah, but—we have to make sure they’re provided,’ Matthew insisted.
‘But we can’t, not always, not infallibly, because so much of it is instinct and intuition.’
‘Instinct? Intuition?’ he said sceptically.
‘I agree,’ Rhys said quietly. ‘That’s exactly why I’m a GP, and why I—and you, Matthew, and Rosie and Tim—go the extra mile to make sure things are followed up and dealt with. I think Linsey’s understanding of the job is actually very accurate.’
‘We still need to make full notes,’ Matthew insisted.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, man, that goes without saying.’
‘I don’t think so. I think it needs to be clearly understood.’
‘I clearly understand it,’ Linsey said quietly into the fraught silence.
Both men turned to look at her.
‘I wouldn’t dream of making incomplete notes on a consultation just because I expect to be doing the follow-up. I wouldn’t rely on my own memory and I couldn’t be sure that I would be the one seeing the patient. That wasn’t what I was saying. I was just trying to explain why I feel I, personally, want to be in a position to follow patients up and supervise their care to the conclusion of their treatment.’
She held Matthew’s eyes in a challenging stare, defying him to differ with her again or question her motivation, and as she did so she saw the dawning of surprise—and, heavens, respect?—in their gun-metal depths.
The phone rang then, breaking the silence that stretched between them, shattering the tension and enabling Linsey to drag her eyes away from Matthew at last.
‘So, tell us all about your training so far,’ Rhys said easily, helping himself to more of the cold, creamy chicken mixture and tucking into it with relish.
‘From the beginning?’
‘Seems a good place to start,’ Matthew said drily.
She gave a forced little laugh but did as she was asked, starting at the beginning with her applications to medical colleges at various universities, her acceptance by a London college, her training, her natural leanings, the areas she had enjoyed and the areas she found difficult, when she’d made her decision to be a GP rather than a hospital doctor, and the training she had undergone since making that decision.
‘Have you got an obstetrics qualification?’ Matthew asked, knowing full well she had, if he’d read her application form.
‘Yes. I’ve done my MRCOG.’
They nodded. The qualification was useful in general practice, enabling them to offer home births, contraceptive advice and other facilities related to that area. A woman with obstetric qualifications was especially valuable. It was one of Linsey’s most significant assets, and she knew it. Another asset was her time in Accident and Emergency, which had a lot in common with general practice in that you never knew what was coming through the door. As a way of keeping a doctor on his or her toes it was unsurpassed.
Matthew brought it up.
‘You’re in Accident and Emergency at the moment?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. I’m just finishing.’
‘How have you found it?’
‘Fascinating.’ She told them about her casualty work, and how she found it stimulating even though it was very stressful.
‘General practice can be stressful,’ Matthew warned. ‘All that continuity has its disadvantages. There’s the pain of following a family through tragedy and the remorseless march of time, propping up carers, dealing with terminal illness, miscarriage, infertility, childhood cancers—emotionally it can be very, very draining.’
‘I know. I don’t mind—I’m not looking for an easy option. I think it’s more important to do something useful; you didn’t save my life so I could sit around and waste it.’
Matthew’s smile was wry and a little strained. ‘I don’t think our actions are as carefully considered as that. I saved your life—if I did—because in that split second it was the obvious thing to do. If I hadn’t, someone else would have. It was no big deal.’
‘No big deal’. Exactly the words she had used to Tricia; but it was far from the truth. For her, at least, it had been a very big deal indeed, and she didn’t think it had had that little impact on Matthew, either. Linsey got the feeling that there was more than modesty behind his remark. He seemed uncomfortable with the subject, as if it made him uneasy for some unknown reason. Obviously he didn’t like to play the hero. Her heart softened towards him and she felt a resurgence of the affection with which she had remembered him all these years.
She wondered what it would take for him to look at her again as he had on that day, before she’d fallen in the water, when she had caught his eye. It had almost felt as if there was something between them, some magical pull that drew them together.
She nearly laughed aloud at her silliness. She’d have to stop thinking like this if she got the job. Heavens, he’d done nothing really to attract her single-minded interest, and she could hardly hold him responsible for the silly and irrational behaviour of her heart.
Anyway, he’d been engaged eight years ago, so presumably he’d been married now for years.
She almost asked, the question on the tip of her tongue before she remembered herself and clamped her lips on the words. It was none of her business. She was looking for a job as a trainee GP, not a mistress or girlfriend. This was professional. She must remember that. Just because he’d saved her life it gave her no claim on him—and anyway, the way the interview had gone so far she didn’t think she stood a snowflake’s chance in hell of getting the job. The problem was that she said what she felt, without editing her words in her mind—and that was not always welcome or appropriate. No, if he didn’t want to offer her the job it would be her own fault. It was hardly his that he apparently didn’t have a sense of humour.
She looked up at them, suddenly aware of the pregnant silence. ‘I’m sorry?’
Matthew was looking at her oddly. ‘I said, if we offered you the post as trainee, when would you be free to start?’
She blinked. Offered the post? Was he...? ‘Um—the first of August,’ she said hastily. ‘Or any time after that.’
‘OK. Rhys, anything else you want to ask Linsey?’
Rhys shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I think you’ve about covered it,’ he said drily.
Matthew flicked him an irritated glance and stood up, shaking Linsey’s hand as she followed suit. ‘Right. Well, we’ll be in touch. We both have to get on now—feel free to stay and finish your lunch. There’s some coffee in the kitchen, I expect. I’m sorry the others didn’t make it, but that’s general practice for you. Sorry to abandon you.’
Linsey thought that Matthew looked anything but sorry as he hurried out of the door. If anything he was making a hasty getaway—the faster the better. Rhys looked after him, puzzlement reflected on his face, and then turned back to her with a sympathetic smile.
‘Sorry about that. He obviously decided to test you under pressure.’
She laughed. ‘Yes—and I leaked like an old gas main. Oh, well. There’ll be other jobs.’
‘I shouldn’t panic. I thought you stood up to him rather well.’
‘But is that what he’s looking for?’
Rhys’s mouth quirked in a smile. ‘Who knows? We’re interviewing again tomorrow, so you should get a letter by the end of the week. If it helps at all, you’ve got my vote.’
She summoned a smile. ‘Thanks. I don’t think I’ve got Matthew’s.’
Rhys’s brow creased again. ‘I wouldn’t say that. He’s often preoccupied. Probably something to do with a patient—I shouldn’t take it personally. I’d show you the flat, but I have to go. I’ve got several calls to make.’
‘The flat?’
‘Yes, there’s a flat that goes with the job—over the surgery, upstairs. It’s very pretty—bit atticky, but I suppose it’s all part of the charm. If you crane your neck it’s got a sea view.’ He grinned. ‘Suzanne will show you.’ He unfolded himself from the sofa, shook her hand and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Linsey sagged back against the cushions and let out a sigh of relief. As interviews went, that had been appallingly difficult. Still, even though she hadn’t got the job—and she was sure she hadn’t—at least she’d seen Matthew again and had a chance to thank him.
He might want to dismiss the incident, but she had no illusions about what she owed him.
She remembered again the tug of the weed at her hair, the slimy feel of it clinging round her arms, dragging her under. She shuddered with the memory. Her dress had caught on a propeller—fortunately stationary—and trapped her further as she struggled with the weeds and the clinging mud around her ankles, and she could remember the terror, the sheer blind panic of knowing she was going to die in that cold, sinister water and that nothing could save her.
Then, just as she was sliding into oblivion, she had felt the firm grip of a pair of strong masculine hands wrenching her free, and the next moment there had been the blessed sun on her face and the tender caress of his hand across her brow.
She might have made light of it to Tricia, but she had been badly frightened, and Matthew had known that. Clearly, though, however pleased he might have been to see her again and make sure she was all right, he wasn’t going to let their slight acquaintance influence him positively towards her. If anything, he was leaning the other way.
Or maybe she had carried a false image of him all these years? There was no reason, of course, why they should get on. They had exchanged perhaps two dozen words altogether both at the quayside and later when he had brought her flowers in hospital. She didn’t know him. Perhaps he was just a miserable, cheerless individual. Whatever, she sensed that he didn’t like her. Another fantasy in the dust, she thought wryly. So much for the gun-metal eyes of my dreams. Anyway, he was married.
She put her plate down, her appetite quite gone. She had hardly touched the delicious lunch, she realised, so busy had she been defending herself and answering questions. She didn’t ant it now. All she wanted was to get away, to get back to Birmingham and her work in A and E, and to find time to curl up with this week’s journals and look for another trainee post.
Skegness or Great Yarmouth or Blackpool, perhaps, if she wanted the sea. One thing she was sure of—she wouldn’t be offered the post by Matthew Jarvis.
He might have saved her life once, but quite clearly he had decided that his responsibility to her started and ended there. She would have to look elsewhere to further her career.
She went and found Suzanne White. ‘I’m going now—thank you for the coffee and the lunch.’
‘Oh, my dear, I haven’t shown you the flat yet!’
Linsey smiled. ‘That’s all right. I haven’t really got time to look at it,’ she lied.
‘Well, I hope I see you again, dear,’ Suzanne said with a genuinely friendly smile. ‘We could do with your sunny face to brighten the place up.’
Linsey found her eyes misting over. ‘Yes. Well, thanks. I hope so too. Goodbye.’
She let herself out of the back door, ran to her car and was just getting in when Matthew came out of the door.
‘Are you off?’
She stood up again. ‘Yes. I’ve got a long drive.’
He walked up to her, his eyes somehow haunted. ‘I’m sorry I was a bit hard on you in there.’
She shrugged. So was she, but what could she do about it? Nothing. And nor could he. He looked awkward, staring at his hands and then back at her, his eyes belying the careful expression on his face.
‘I just wanted to say I’m glad I’ve seen you again and that everything’s all right.’
‘You too,’ she said, dredging up the tiniest smile. ‘Well, goodbye again. I hope you find your trainee.’
She slid behind the wheel, slammed the door and reversed out without looking at him again. She caught sight of him in the mirror as she paused at the roadside—watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face.
She pulled out onto the road with a little spurt of gravel, and her idol disappeared in a cloud of dust.
How appropriate. What a suitable ending for a fantasy. She blinked the mist from her eyes and headed for home...
