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Denovan O’Mara was taller and broader than she’d thought he’d be—in fact, the television screen didn’t do him justice. He was one hot guy, over six feet of impressive bodywork and a strong no-nonsense face—firm lips, incredibly blue bright eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit with a crisply knotted tie. No wonder he’d fitted so easily into celebrity status. Central casting couldn’t have done better!
She caught an alarming glimpse of her own appearance in the mirror over the basin—hair hanging like rats’ tails over her face, slightly blurred eye make-up … for some reason it irked her that she looked such a wreck in front of Denovan O’Mara and his smooth appearance.
She opened a drawer in the desk and took out a small towel, drying her face and hands vigorously. ‘You must have set off quite early from London,’ she said.
‘I came straight from work this morning—I told you I’d come as soon as I could,’ he said. ‘I’ve only a very limited amount of time here, but I thought I’d pop into your surgery first to tell you I’d arrived.’ He shook her hand in a firm grip, his vivid blue eyes holding hers.
‘You’ll be pleased to hear that they’ve stabilised Frank—although he’s still in ICU,’ Kerry informed him, then added with slight emphasis to ensure that Denovan realised just how ill Frank was, ‘I think it was pretty touch-and-go last night.’
He nodded. ‘Sounds as if he was lucky to get out alive. But he’s a strong man—he’ll pull through, no doubt,’ he said in an offhand way. His glance swept over her keenly, noting the dark shadows under her eyes, the strain showing on her face. ‘This can’t be easy for you,’ he observed. ‘I suppose you’re trying to organise a locum and a hundred other things as well? You look a little bushed.’
For a ‘little bushed’ read a ‘complete wreck’, she thought wryly, blinking in some surprise at his understanding of the situation. She nodded briefly—there was something about his sympathetic tone that undermined her previous impression of a self-centred man. No wonder he held thousands of women viewers under his spell—not only looks, but reasonably charming when he wanted to be, as well. In fact, she could see that some women would find his type of looks quite sexy! But again, Frank knew his brother better than she did and she could quite believe his remarks that Denovan had an inflated idea of his own importance.
The small boy put his face close to his father’s. ‘I’m hungry,’ he pronounced. ‘I need a biscuit!’
‘You wait until we get to the pub where we’re going to stay then you can have lots to eat,’ his father promised.
Archie pulled his father’s ear. ‘I can’t wait.’ He raised his voice. ‘I’m very hungry!’
‘I don’t know if Daphne’s rung up the Pear Tree yet—your room probably won’t be ready,’ said Kerry.
‘I’ve had bad news on that front.’ Daphne came into the room, catching the end of the sentence. ‘The drains can’t cope with the extra water at the bottom of the hill and the pub’s completely flooded—they’ve had to close it and there’s nowhere else to stay for miles.’
‘Oh, no!’ Kerry looked in dismay first at Daphne and then at Denovan and Archie. ‘If the pub’s flooded, what about all the other buildings down there?’ And even more urgently, she thought worriedly, where was this man and his little boy going to stay?
‘I’m really hungry, Daddy,’ growled Archie, looking angrily at his father. ‘Please can I have a biscuit, quickly? You promised before!’
Kerry couldn’t help smiling at the little boy. She could imagine where he got his impatience from! ‘Daphne, you’ve met Frank’s brother already, I think?’
Daphne dimpled at Denovan, clearly smitten. ‘Only a few minutes ago. Look, why don’t I give Archie something nice to eat from the kitchen?’ She held out her hand to Archie. ‘You come with me, pet.’
Archie slid down from the desk and ran across the room to Daphne.
Denovan smiled wryly. ‘Looks like he’s got a friend there. It’s a nuisance about the hotel. I guess I’ll have to drive back to London after I’ve seen Frank this evening.’
Kerry had a spare room in her little cottage. It was filled with junk, but it did have a bed in it, and it would only be for one night after all. It was a nuisance, but for Archie’s sake she would have to offer the arrogant Denovan and his son a room for the night.
‘You’re very welcome to stay with me,’ she said, without much enthusiasm. ‘I’ve a sleeping bag that Archie could have, and …’ she looked doubtfully at Denovan’s large frame ‘… a single bed in my spare room—it might not be very comfortable.’
There was a surprising sweetness in the smile that lifted his stern face. It made him seem younger, more approachable.
‘That’s very kind. I don’t really feel like making the journey back tonight.’ His periwinkle eyes smiled engagingly at her. They were quite startling, those eyes of his. ‘I’m sorry to impose on you. I feel I’ve put you out enough, but I promise we’ll be very quiet guests.’
‘No, that’s fine, it’s no trouble.’
‘Well, we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow anyway, but I’m very grateful to have somewhere to sleep tonight!’
‘That’s OK,’ she said brusquely. She delved in her bag and brought out her house keys, tossing them to him. ‘You might as well go there now and get settled. There’s food in the fridge for you and Archie. The house is at the top of the hill beyond the surgery—you can’t miss it, it’s the only one with a blue door.’
Denovan jingled the keys in his hand before he turned to go, with a slightly apologetic expression on his face. ‘Actually, I have another very big favour to ask you. I’ll go and see Frank this evening—but an ICU isn’t the place for a little boy, and I was planning to ask one of the hotel staff to watch him for me, but that plan will obviously need to change. So, if you’re not doing anything tonight, could I possibly leave Archie with you for an hour?’
Not doing anything tonight? Kerry almost laughed. She only had about a hundred things on her to-do list from the fallout of Frank’s accident, like sorting out the paperwork she should have done last night, trying yet again to get some cover for her colleague, catching up on the seriously ill patients on his list. It seemed an endless catalogue of things. But Denovan had to see his brother and Archie had to be looked after.
She hid her sigh behind a smile. ‘No problem—I’ll be back after surgery at about six-thirty.’
‘I’m very grateful. I just want to satisfy myself they’re doing the best they can for him. Then I really have to get back to London early tomorrow. Archie needs to get back to his nursery school.’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t know when I can get back here again, it rather depends on my other commitments. As I said before, Frank’s accident couldn’t have come at a worse time.’
Kerry thought of poor Frank lying so very injured in the local hospital, and raised her eyebrows. Denovan watched her expression.
‘You look very disapproving,’ he remarked, a sudden coolness in his tone. ‘I do have an incredibly busy life, and it’s been a nightmare trying to rearrange things today, but I managed it.’
Bully for you, thought Kerry scornfully, but she said lightly, ‘I guess I’m just a little surprised that you couldn’t have found time to come at the weekend perhaps. I’d have thought …’
The blue eyes turned flinty. ‘You’d have thought what exactly?’ he enquired frostily. ‘With the deepest respect, you have no right to presume anything about my arrangements.’
Talk about pompous! Kerry’s cheeks burned angrily. ‘I don’t presume anything—and it hasn’t been easy for me either, as a matter of fact, but if he was my brother—’
‘But he’s not!’ cut in Denovan harshly.
Kerry stared at him incredulously, astounded by his rudeness. Extraordinary how touchy and defensive he was about visiting his brother, it was as if she’d lit a blue touch paper! She felt she’d glimpsed the real Denovan O’Mara again, arrogant and self-centred, and all of a sudden the atmosphere in the room had dropped several degrees.
Denovan stared at the floor for a second, taking a deep breath as if trying to keep his anger under control, then he shook his head apologetically and looked slightly shamefaced.
‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. It was completely uncalled for, especially when you’ve been so kind.’
Hah! thought Kerry cynically. Now she was seeing his charming TV persona once more.
‘I guess it’s been a hell of a long day,’ Denovan continued. ‘I just wish Frank could learn not to take liberties with his blasted car.’
Amen to that, agreed Kerry. Frank wasn’t aware of the upset he’d caused her over the past twenty-four hours!
‘Perhaps he’s learned his lesson,’ observed Kerry tersely. ‘However, I’m sure when he sees you, it will do him a lot of good.’
Denovan shrugged. ‘Actually, it could have quite the opposite effect. The last time I saw or spoke to Frank was over six years ago, and that wasn’t exactly a happy occasion.’ He said it lightly, but that only seemed to emphasise the gravity of their differences.
He turned and left the room, striding quickly down the corridor and attempting to gather his thoughts. God, he was a fool. Why had he flown off the handle when Kerry had queried his commitment to his brother? All she had done was express sympathy and offer hospitality to himself and Archie—and he’d repaid her by being incredibly rude.
The truth was, he admitted to himself, he had a terrible fear that coming back and seeing Frank would raise all kinds of ghosts that he’d tried to bury over the years—and perhaps there was some guilt that he had never attempted to build bridges with his brother.
Of course, Kerry knew nothing of the terrible legacy of betrayal and disgust he felt for Frank, and the bitterness that had grown up between the two men. He clenched his fists angrily. Hell, he didn’t owe his brother any sympathy at all after what he’d done to ruin the family. He took a deep breath and went to collect his little boy from the kitchen.
Kerry sat down and stared after him in astonishment. What earth-shattering event could have caused a six-year rift between the two brothers? And whatever it was, did it justify Denovan’s rudeness?
CHAPTER TWO
ARCHIE settled happily in front of the television while his father went to see Frank in the local hospital, which was about five miles away across the valley in the larger town of Laystone. Denovan said he would probably stay an hour and find out what the prognosis on Frank was.
Kerry put on the kettle and started to make a quick supper for herself and Archie. She flicked a look at the little boy, endearingly quaint with his round glasses perched on the end of his snub nose, his jaws moving rhythmically as he devoured a little bowl of raisins. He seemed an adaptable child—obviously well used to adjusting to new people and situations.
‘Would you like some pasta?’ she enquired.
He didn’t take his eyes from the screen. ‘No, I don’t like pasta, thank you.’
‘What about some baked beans, then?’ Kerry rooted around in a cupboard looking for suitable food.
‘No, I don’t like baked beans, thank you.’
‘Then what do you like?’
Archie dragged himself away from watching the flickering screen. ‘I like chips and burgers and ice cream and crisps and chocolate,’ he said firmly.
Kerry’s lips twitched in amusement—evidently his parents didn’t bother about healthy diets!
‘Is that what you’re allowed at home?’
Archie fixed Kerry with his bright blue eyes and nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. Daddy says I can have what I want.’
‘Right, well, I’ll see what I can find,’ she promised, wondering where Mummy fitted into the picture.
A few minutes later Kerry collapsed on the sofa next to Archie and tucked into her pasta, giving the little boy some ice cream she’d found at the bottom of the freezer, and both of them sat in silence, one absorbed in the television, Kerry starting to look through her mail and flicking through the newspaper she hadn’t had time to read that day.
The room was warm and she fought against drifting off to sleep—it had been a hectic twenty-four hours, and she was feeling the effects of cramming a lot of things into a short time with little sleep. Archie leant cosily against her like a little hot-water bottle and she looked down at the top of his head. He was such a lovable little boy, even if his father was the arrogant Dr Denovan O’Mara!
She sighed softly. A year ago her future had seemed to be mapped out—a wedding, a loving husband, hopefully followed by children like Archie. Then all that had been taken away from her brutally and swiftly, and the children and family life she longed for were nothing but a faded dream.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of the front door opening just as she closed her eyes in a troubled doze. Denovan walked into the room then stopped suddenly when he saw his son and Kerry relaxed together on the sofa. Archie had his head against her shoulder, and Kerry had one arm round him, her freshly washed dark cloud of hair tumbling over the cushion she was leaning against, mouth slightly open as she dozed. He smiled wistfully at the picture they presented—it twisted his heart to see Archie nestled up against Kerry, for it seemed to highlight the lack of a motherly figure in his precious son’s life.
He sighed and pushed that thought to the back of his mind then leant forward and touched Kerry lightly on her shoulder. ‘Sorry to disturb you when you both seem so comfortable,’ he said.
Startled, Kerry sat bolt upright on the sofa and stared at him in surprise. ‘You’ve hardly been gone any time!’ she exclaimed.
‘I haven’t been able to get to the hospital,’ Denovan explained drily. ‘The wind’s brought down several big trees by the riverbank and the bridge has collapsed—there’s no way over the river now, so getting anywhere out of the village at the moment is impossible. It won’t take much for the river to burst its banks completely.’
‘What?’ Kerry gently put Archie to one side and stood up, staring in disbelief at Denovan. ‘The village is cut off altogether? So what’s happening down by the river now?’
He shook his head. ‘People are working like mad, putting sandbags or anything else round their properties to keep the water out. But the most immediate problem is that a woman’s trapped under part of the bridge wall that’s collapsed.’ His face was grave. ‘I’m sorry to say I’ll have to drag you away. We’re both needed urgently, and this woman needs medical help. There’s no way an ambulance can get through at the moment. There are people trying to free her, but she’s bound to have injuries—we should be there.’
The day she’d thought could get no worse had reached rock bottom, thought Kerry wryly. A disaster in the village and no backup from essential services. Kerry hauled on her cagoule and pushed her feet into some wellingtons—she flicked a look at Denovan’s stalwart figure and suddenly she was extremely grateful to have him with her to help, pompous and arrogant man though he was.
‘We’d better take my car,’ she said. ‘It’s a small estate so we could get her up to the surgery in that if necessary. We keep some equipment there for the Mountain Rescue Team—a stretcher, a collapsible splint, blankets and a neck collar, that sort of thing. We can call in and get them.’
‘A good idea,’ said Denovan. ‘It’s very cold out there.’
Kerry noticed the little boy looking solemnly at them both. ‘We’ll drop Archie off at Daphne’s—she’s only a door or two away and I know she won’t mind.’ She bent down and smiled at him. ‘You know that nice lady who gave you biscuits and hot milk this afternoon? We’re taking you to stay with her for an hour or two while your daddy and I go and help a poorly lady.’
Archie’s mischievous blue eyes gleamed. ‘Will she give me some more biscuits?’
‘I dare say she will.’ Kerry smiled. ‘Come on, let’s go!’
A small crowd had gathered round the bridge where the river started to run through the village. Car headlights were trained on the dramatic scene where the woman lay trapped, with her legs pinioned underneath the collapsed stones. The lashing rain glinted on a million drops in the beams of the light, and the river looked very full; it was obvious that the bridge had been swept away.
Kerry’s eyes widened in horror as the enormity of the situation hit her. ‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed, scrambling out of the car. ‘How on earth will we get her out without equipment?’
Denovan opened the car tailgate and lifted out the blankets. ‘We’ll do it somehow,’ he said confidently. ‘You’d be surprised what a few strong men can do.’ He gave her a quick grin of encouragement. ‘You keep the lady calm and assess her condition and I’ll help these men to lift that rubble.’
Kerry turned to a woman on the edge of the little crowd. ‘Have you any idea who’s under all that rubble?’ she asked.
‘She’s Sirie Patel. She runs the Post Office and shop on the corner, poor woman. She never stops working—if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have a village shop.’
Kerry pushed her way through to the stricken woman, forcing herself into professional mode and forgetting her own shock that it was her friend Sirie who was hurt. She didn’t deserve this, giving so much of her life to the community, allowing those who were hard up to pay her ‘next time’, lending a ready ear to listen to the woes of any of her customers. It wasn’t fair.
In her next life, thought Kerry grimly as she packed the blankets as best she could around Sirie in the howling wind and stinging rain, she would come back as something less stressful than a GP trying to calm a terrified woman trapped under a bridge wall with water gushing over her. Perhaps she’d have a career as a lion tamer or a high-flying trapeze artist!
She pushed a folded blanket gently behind Sirie’s head, all the time talking to her, reassuring her that she was being looked after. Kerry knew the psychological importance of making sure the victim was aware that she wasn’t alone but in safe and capable hands.
‘It’s all right, Sirie, love, we’re here to help you now,’ shouted Kerry above the noise of the rushing river. ‘Try and stay calm. Here, hold my hand and grip it tightly. If you keep as still as possible, there’s going to be no danger.’
Oh, how she hoped that was true! The river was so very close and fast, the roar of it filling their ears. She had a horrible vision that if Sirie were to slip into it when they released her, she could be swept down into the torrent. It was a steep hill, and even though it was raining and dark, the ribbon of lights along the road at the bottom of the valley could be seen clearly, twinkling many feet below.
Kerry looked across at Denovan lying on his stomach close to Sirie as he tried to see where her legs were trapped, and if the two large slabs of stone were actually compressing the limbs. She admitted to herself that she hadn’t expected a man like Denovan to hurl himself into the situation as he had—to be so hands-on. He’d surprised her, but after the way he’d lost his cool with her earlier, she wasn’t about to become his biggest fan. However, she admitted grudgingly, she was very grateful that he was there, and revealing himself to be so competent.
He scrambled up and crouched near to Kerry, his eyes looking searchingly at the victim’s face. ‘How is Sirie?’ he asked. ‘Bearing up?’
‘Very shocked. She’s in considerable pain, and her pulse is quite thready—of course I don’t know what her sats are or her BP. I’ve morphine in my bag so perhaps you’d dig it out. Any sign of outside help yet?’
‘I’ve rung for an air ambulance, seeing nothing else can get through here at the moment,’ said Denovan, rummaging through Kerry’s bag to find the morphine. ‘The reception was incredibly bad, but I think they’ve got the gist of it. It sounded like a ten-minute ETA.’
Sirie’s grip on Kerry’s hand was fierce. ‘Will they be long getting me out?’ she whispered, screwing her eyes up. ‘I don’t know how long I can stand this …’
‘It’s all right, Sirie, you’re going to feel more comfortable very soon. Dr O’Mara’s just going to inject you with something that’ll make you feel much easier.’ Sirie’s eyes fluttered open. ‘What about my girls?’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got to pick them up from their Brownie meeting.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll make sure that they’re looked after. One of the mothers will take them to her house,’ Kerry assured her. Thank heavens for a small, close-knit community, she thought. They did look out for each other here.
Denovan tested the syringe he was holding, then smiled down at Sirie. ‘Hang in there. Ten mils of this magic stuff will help you to relax. In fact, you’ll feel on top of the world, as if you’ve had two double whiskies …’
Sirie’s face flickered into a frail, brave smile. ‘I’m teetotal, Doctor,’ she whispered. ‘I never touch the stuff!’
‘Well, now you’re about to find out what you’re missing,’ he joked. He turned to Kerry, his voice low enough so that Sirie couldn’t hear him but audible to Kerry above the noise of the voices of the men and the howling wind. ‘We’re nearly there now. Keep your fingers crossed.’
Kerry bit her lip, watching the last stones being inched away from Sirie’s legs, praying that the muscles in the legs wouldn’t be badly crushed. Whatever damage Sirie had suffered, it was imperative that she was hospitalised as soon as possible.
She watched the men grunting and groaning as they tried to lever the stones up without slipping in the thick mud around the site. Denovan and two other men had placed the stretcher on the ground as near to the bridge as possible and were waiting to pull the victim out as soon as they dared. It was a tense few minutes and Kerry kept up a low flow of conversation with Sirie, distracting her from the shouting and noise of falling rubble that was going on around her.
At last, with infinite care, Sirie was lifted away from the broken bridge and placed as gently as possibly on the stretcher. Kerry and Denovan bent over her to examine the damage that had been done to her legs. One lay awkwardly, bent at a strange angle with multiple contusions and a large gash down the shin bone.
‘We might have guessed Sirie wouldn’t get away without any injury,’ said Denovan, straightening up. ‘That left leg’s almost certainly broken, from the way it’s positioned. It’s taken the brunt of the fallen wall, but I don’t see a protruding bone, so hopefully it’s not a compound fracture.’
Kerry squeezed Sirie’s hand comfortingly, and Sirie’s large, scared eyes looked from one doctor to the other. ‘Am I going to have to have an operation?’ she asked in a quavery voice.
‘Until you’ve had X-rays we won’t know for sure. First thing we need to get you to hospital.’ Denovan squatted down next to the frightened woman and smiled kindly at her. ‘You’ve been absolutely great—really brave. Just hang on a little longer.’
Kerry was amazed at how sensitive Denovan could be, what a contrast to the impatient doctor of an hour or two ago. He seemed to have another, softer side to him that he’d hidden well when she’d first met him—perhaps he was just very good at acting!
He was looking at the raging river a few feet away from them. ‘Perhaps we’ll move Sirie nearer the car first and then strap her leg.’
Kerry followed his glance and swallowed hard. Was it her imagination, or did the water seem higher than it had been? It looked as if the river would burst its banks any second and completely cover the road.
‘OK, Doc, but let’s do it before the whole damn things goes,’ urged one of the men. ‘Hopefully the helicopter will be here soon. It’ll land on the field at the top of the village.’ They slid the stretcher into the back of the estate car, although it wouldn’t go in completely, and Kerry bound the affected leg above the site of the fracture to the splint—just securing it enough to stop it from being bounced around. Four men, including Denovan, supported the stretcher as Kerry drove very slowly back through the village to The Larches. As she left the scene, she heard a sudden commotion behind her—a roar of water, the cracking of trees.