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No. Sophie suspected it would have been the same if they’d caught each other’s gaze on a street somewhere. There was something else here. A sense of connection. Recognition, even?
‘You’re not handing them out. They’re mine. I diagnosed myself. I’ve kept the drugs on hand ever since I contracted malaria in the first place. In case this happened.’
‘What about differential diagnoses?’
Finn sighed. ‘Such as?’
‘A viral illness like influenza. Sepsis. Food poisoning. Hepatitis…’ Sophie racked her brains. Malaria wasn’t a common illness in these parts. ‘Plague,’ she added.
Unexpectedly a corner of Finn’s mouth twitched. ‘It does kind of feel like plague at the moment, I have to confess.’
So he had a sense of humour? Even more unexpectedly, Sophie felt a twinge of liking this guy, closely followed by a wave of sympathy. He hadn’t actually come here with the intention of ruining her life, had he? He was faced with a massive problem and he’d been grasping at straws.
‘Even if your self-diagnosis is correct, it’s my job to decide whether you’re sick enough to be admitted to hospital.’ Sophie picked up her tympanic thermometer and fitted a plastic shield onto it. She smoothed back rather damp waves of his hair to find his ear hole. It was a perfectly normal thing to be doing, so why did it suddenly seem a little too personal? Intimate, even? Maybe her words were for herself as much as him. ‘Right now, you’re a patient in my medical practice.’
Finn submitted to having his temperature taken. ‘It was uncomplicated malaria the first time round. I don’t need to be admitted anywhere. I just need to take my medication and find somewhere to stay for a day or two. Until I’m fit to drive.’
Oh, yeah… He’d already realised that he’d made a mistake and he’d been intending to rectify it by leaving and taking the children with him. She had to admire that decision given that he’d said he was no more in a position to take on his orphaned nieces than she was.
But why had he only met them so recently? There was more to this story than she’d been given. Possibly because she hadn’t wanted to listen and had told him as much in no uncertain terms. She hadn’t wanted her heartstrings tugged, to get involved with this story at any meaningful level.
The thermometer beeped and Sophie glanced at the readout. ‘Forty point one,’ she announced. ‘That’s quite an impressive fever.’
‘Which will probably drop quite soon and then make a reappearance later.’ But Finn was pushing away the blanket she’d covered him with. ‘Would you have a glass of water available? I’d like to take my pills.’
‘Just a minute… I want to have a listen to your chest. And a feel of your tummy, if you don’t mind.’
Finn’s head dropped back against the pillow again. ‘It’s not necessary.’
‘You’re currently my patient,’ Sophie reminded him. ‘You don’t get to fall over in my consulting room and then tell me what is or isn’t necessary. Okay?’
He made no response but Sophie almost got the feeling that he was happy to comply. Maybe he was feeling so awful that being forced to get checked was almost a relief?
Malaria could have nasty complications. Fatal ones, such as cerebral oedema, organ failure and coma due to hypoglycaemia. This might be the first case of malaria that Sophie had come across but the professional part of her brain was actually revelling in retrieving information learned long ago.
‘Your lungs sound clear. No pulmonary oedema.’
‘I could have told you that. I’m not having any respiratory issues.’
Sophie had got past that disturbing beat of feeling that this situation had a personal rather than purely professional edge. She was totally focussed now. ‘Would you mind undoing your jeans for me, please?’
She laid her hand on a very flat abdomen, pressing gently to examine a lower quadrant. ‘When did you last have something to eat?’
‘I’m not sure. We stopped for lunch but I was more worried about whether Ellie and Emma were eating. Which they weren’t…’
‘Don’t worry. If I know my mum, she’ll be filling them up with something like fish fingers and ice-cream right about now. Hmm…that hurt, didn’t it?’
‘A bit…’ The admission was reluctant.
‘That’s right over your spleen and I’d say it’s enlarged. It can rupture, you know, in a severe case of malaria.’
‘Yeah…thanks for that.’
‘I’m going to take some blood as well. I can do a blood glucose here but I’ll have to send the rest away to check on your renal function.’
She helped him roll up the sleeve of his woollen jumper and pulled a tourniquet tight above his elbow. He didn’t flinch when the needle pierced his skin. A high pain threshold? She’d need to take that into account the next time she was pressing on his abdomen.
‘Blood sugar’s low normal. Could just be a result of you not eating recently.’
‘You happy now? Can I have my meds?’
Sophie handed over the packet of pills and filled a glass of water from the basin in the room. She would hardly call her state of mind any shade of happiness.
What on earth was she going to do now?
‘Let’s see how steady you are on your feet,’ she said, finally. ‘I’ll take you to my parents’ house which is just past the car park. Between us, I’m sure we can sort something out about a place you can stay. Not that North Cove has much in the way of hotels, but there are a few B&Bs and a guest house or two.’
The rain had settled into a steady downpour and the pace that Finn seemed capable of managing was nowhere near fast enough to stop them both getting noticeably wet by the time Sophie led him through the back door of what had been one of the original farmhouses in the area. The door led into a huge kitchen that smelled of hot food and home but it was empty at the moment so she kept going to the living room across the hall. There she found her father, putting another log onto the open fire.
‘Dad? This is Finn Connelly.’
Jack Greene straightened. He was still looking a bit pale, Sophie noted, but that could be due to the startling arrival of two children he was biologically related to as much as his earlier dizzy spell today.
Oh, man… Her life was suddenly spinning out of control and she didn’t like it one little bit.
‘Where’s Mum?’
‘I’m here…’ Judy appeared through the door. ‘I was just tucking up the girls.’ She met Sophie’s stare with one of her own. ‘I didn’t know how long you were going to be, Sophie. They were exhausted, poor little loves. And there was your old room with its two beds. They were asleep almost as soon as their heads touched the pillows.’ She smiled at Finn. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I gave them some dinner that wasn’t particularly healthy. Fish fingers and ice-cream.’
Sophie’s gaze flew to catch Finn’s and there was a moment of silent communication.
Told you so…
Yeah… I get it. You’re always right…
He spoke, however, to Judy. ‘That’s fine. You’ve done better than I have today, finding something they actually wanted to eat.’
‘Oh, my goodness. You’re soaked. Come over here by the fire. I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
‘I’m a bit warm,’ Finn said. ‘I might stay here.’ He sank down onto one end of the huge, worn leather sofa.
Jack was staring at the newcomer with a frown on his face. ‘You don’t look right, lad.’ He shifted his gaze to Sophie. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Malaria,’ she said.
‘What?’ Jack pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘That’s ridiculous. How did you diagnose that on the spot? When have we ever had a case of malaria in North Cove?’
‘Finn’s a doctor,’ she told him. ‘And this is a relapse, not a primary infection. He diagnosed it himself but his signs and symptoms certainly fit the clinical picture. Fever, headache, fatigue. Oh, and a rather tender spleen. I’ve taken bloods. I’ll get them off to the lab myself on my way home.’
She could feel the curious glance coming from Finn. Had he thought she still lived here, with her parents? She was thirty-four, for heaven’s sake. Would he still consider living with his parents?
No. His parents clearly weren’t in the picture if he had been his brother’s only relative. And he’d said he hadn’t seen his brother in years, either.
Okay. Her father wasn’t the only curious one.
‘So you’re a doctor?’ Jack moved to sit on the other end of the couch. ‘A specialist? Where do you work?’
‘I’m an emergency medicine specialist. I spent five years or so in a London A&E but I’ve been in Australia for the last few years. I’m hoping to sign a new three-year contract with the Flying Doctors service there.’
Glances were exchanged between Sophie’s parents as the implications of his statement sank in. They would both realise how unlikely it was that he would be taking two young children to Outback Australia.
‘I’ll help you make some tea,’ Sophie said to her mother. ‘We need to find somewhere for Finn to stay for a day or two as well. He’s not in a fit state to drive.’
She hoped that Finn would be filling in the gaps for her father while she was in the kitchen doing the same thing for her mother. She kept it short and to the point and Judy listened quietly as she put cups and saucers onto a tray and waited for the kettle to boil.
‘Well…’ she said finally. ‘I’m not waking those girls up to get dragged off to a B&B. They’ll have to stay here, for tonight at least. Find the biscuit tin, would you?’
A plate was put in front of Sophie with a clatter. A sure sign that Judy Greene was not happy.
A moment later and her father came into the kitchen. He didn’t look happy, either.
‘That lad needs to be in bed,’ he said. ‘I’d probably admit him if he was my patient but I don’t expect he’s going to like that idea.’
‘He doesn’t need admission. He needs somewhere to rest for a few days with someone checking up on him frequently. What about Mrs Murphy’s guest house?’ Sophie suggested. ‘It’s just up the road.’
‘You’d put a sick man in a guest house?’ Judy sounded horrified. ‘And Colleen Murphy? She’d be round here first thing tomorrow morning, and one look at those girls and she’ll know exactly what’s going on. Like I did.’ She shook her head as she poured boiling water into the teapot to warm it. ‘That hair…’ She swirled the pot and tipped the water out before reaching for the tea caddy. ‘And if Colleen knows, the whole town’ll hear about it soon enough.’
The teapot hit the bench with a thump. ‘He’ll have to stay here, in our guest room. Unless you want to take him home, Sophie?’
‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’
Judy spoke quietly. ‘Because he’s the uncle of your daughters, perhaps?’
‘They’re not my daughters.’ It felt as if the walls were closing in around Sophie. ‘And he’s not much of an uncle, by all accounts. He only met them a matter of days ago.’ She felt her hands curling into fists. ‘He doesn’t want them. He wants to get back to Australia and that exciting job he’s got with the Flying Doctors. I think he wants me to have them.’
Her voice had risen with the incredulity of it all, so the silence after her outburst made the air feel almost too thick to breathe. It seemed that neither of her parents shared her opinion of how unreasonable this was.
Her father cleared his throat. ‘Well…biologically, they are your daughters, Soph. Which makes them…our grandchildren…doesn’t it?’
‘No…’ Sophie was cradling her forehead in both her hands now. ‘For heaven’s sake, Dad. I donated eggs. It doesn’t make me suddenly responsible for what happens to them, does it? What if I’d donated a kidney to someone? And…and they turned up on the doorstep and said they were homeless now? Would I have to invite them to live with me for the rest of my life?’
Dropping her hands, she looked up, and the look on her parents’ faces was enough to break her heart. It took her back instantly to that moment when their excitement at the prospect of becoming grandparents had morphed into yet another grief when faced with the reality of her miscarriage. When all their lives had changed for ever.
That had been her child. Hers and Matthew’s. The egg she’d chosen to have implanted that first time. The baby she’d fallen in love with the instant she’d seen that tiny heart beating on the ultrasound screen.
‘They’re not my children,’ Sophie whispered into the silence. ‘Can’t you understand? I’m finally at the point where I’m not missing Matthew and our baby every single day. I love my life just the way it is. I don’t want to be a mother. I’m not ready…and…and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready again.’
‘You don’t have to be.’
It wasn’t either of her parents who had spoken. Oh, help… How long had Finn been standing in the kitchen doorway? How much had he heard?
Enough, obviously.
‘I’ll sort it out,’ he said. His face twisted with what looked like regret as he spoke to Judy. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he added. ‘I didn’t think. I’ve created a problem for everybody.’
Judy’s shoes tapped on the flagstones as she crossed the room. ‘You did what you thought was the right thing,’ she said softly. ‘We all need some time to think about this so…’ She was smiling at him now—that gentle smile that advertised the warmest heart in the world. ‘Who knows? Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re not well enough to go anywhere else right now.’
‘I can’t stay here…’ Finn might look as if he was about to topple over at any moment but he was fighting hard. ‘Can you please tell me where that guest house is?’
‘You’re not going to win this one, lad.’ Jack’s smile for his wife conveyed an understanding born of a great many years. And a great deal of love. ‘Come with me. I’ll show you where our guest room is. It’s got its own bathroom so you’ll be quite private.’
‘Find him a pair of your pyjamas, Jack. I’ll bring him a cup of tea in a minute. And maybe some soup.’ Judy caught Sophie’s gaze as she headed back to the teapot. ‘You going to stay for some soup, too, love?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘I need to get those blood samples to the lab.’
She had to get out of here. Control of her life was being torn out of her hands and she couldn’t deal with this. She needed some time to herself. A lot of time. At least her father would be here if Finn’s condition deteriorated so she wouldn’t have to add any worry about a new patient to the mess already in her head.
She couldn’t help another glance in his direction, however. A glance that was intended to reassure herself that she could, at least, put worrying about the potential complications of malaria to one side.
Finn had one hand on the frame of the door, as if he needed the support to stay upright. He had been watching her, she realised, as her gaze connected with his. For what seemed like a very long moment, they held the eye contact.
She didn’t want to feel sorry for this man. Or have to repress the instinctive urge to offer assistance and reassurance but…that look in his eyes was a plea that was impossible to ignore.
He was lost, wasn’t he?
Torn.
Wanting to do the right thing but, for whatever reason, feeling incapable of taking the step that they both knew would be the right thing to do here. The only thing to do, in fact.
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