‘Ally did this? Ally got her back from cardiac arrest?’

‘She’s good,’ Paul said seriously. ‘She’s a bloody fine doctor. Hell, Darcy, we didn’t even have the monitor attached.’

‘Why not?’

‘Marilyn must have unplugged it,’ Paul told him. ‘She complained it made a buzz and we told her you’d ordered it to stay on. But when I went to supper and Leonie went to the bathroom, she must have decided to pull it out. That’s what we think must have happened-she leaned over to unplug it and the effort brought on the attack.’

Hell. Darcy sighed in exasperation and raked his fingers through hair that was already crazily unruly. It had been raked quite a few times today already. Some people were their own worst enemies.

‘She’ll have to agree to bypass surgery now,’ he muttered, looking down at the sleeping woman with something akin to despair.

‘Maybe she will.’ Paul was looking at him, considering. ‘But…about Ally. Did you know Dr Westruther was a doctor?’

‘It’s written on her sign.’

‘Yeah, but a real doctor.’

‘She can’t be a real doctor. Not a doctor of medicine.’

‘She must be,’ Paul told him. ‘Hell, Darcy, we panicked. I couldn’t even get the monitor working to see if it was her heart or not, and Leonie was doing the hand-wringing she always does in a crisis. I tell you, if Ally hadn’t come, we’d be wheeling Marilyn into the morgue. She knew everything. She knew exactly what to do-the right dosages, everything. And the way she did it… She’s done it before, Darcy. Lots of times.’

‘It doesn’t make sense. And where is she now?’

‘Sloped off home?’ Paul suggested. He shrugged. ‘Maybe if she’s unregistered, she’s afraid you’ll sue.’

‘As if I would-for saving Marilyn’s life.’

‘Will you go find her?’

That was what he wanted to do. Desperately. But medical imperatives ruled-as always.

‘How can I?’ he asked helplessly. ‘I have two patients I need to settle. I need to admit Kevin. I need to organise for Marilyn’s transfer first thing tomorrow-she’s having her bypass whether she wants it or not, and if I organise it before she wakes then she can’t argue. I’ll telephone her daughter now and talk her through the options. It’s going to take time.’

‘Time that you’d much rather spend going round to talk to Ally?’ Paul suggested, with just a hint of mischief in his eyes, and Darcy threw him a dark look.

‘Yeah, right.’

So he worked on, in confusion.

By the time he’d finished it was almost three. Much too late to visit Ally. Though he just happened to drive past. Well, he had to move his car into the garage for the night, so he may as well do a quick drive down the main street and see if her premises were in darkness.

They were.

Finally he lay in bed in even deeper confusion. There were so many questions.

Had she been a doctor? Was she unregistered? Struck off for something like drug use? After all, she was into alternative therapies.

Great. Why was he determined to paint her so black? ‘She’d throw another paintpot at me if she could hear me thinking like this,’ he told Jekyll, who was snoring on the end of his bed. ‘Maybe I’d deserve it.’

His dog opened a bleary eye, wagged his tail and went back to sleep. Under his bed, Hyde kept right on snoring.

‘You guys are asleep. I should be, too.

‘It’s not going to happen.

‘So?

‘So if Ally doesn’t want to be a doctor then maybe I shouldn’t ask any questions?’ He was discussing it with the dogs.

They weren’t answering.

‘I shouldn’t ask Ally.

‘Of course I’ll ask Ally.’ It was as much as he could do not to get out of bed and ask questions right then.

He didn’t. But it was only because he knew very well that at three in the morning there’d be no answers. But the moment morning came those questions were going to be answered.

CHAPTER SIX

UNLIKE Darcy, when Ally hit the pillow she went out like a light. She was exhausted past belief, and although she’d thought the trauma of the day would keep her staring at the ceiling it did no such thing.

She’d saved Marilyn’s life.

The thought was like some sort of heat bag that she could hug, warming parts of her she hadn’t known were cold. It took away the awfulness of the day, the horror of facing Jerry. The pain.

And Jerry was in jail. She hadn’t been able to stop him all those years ago but now he’d spend years behind bars. All the people whose lives he’d messed with in the past would read about it in the newspapers and say to themselves, He’s a convicted felon. He’s of no worth.

And if he was of no worth then the fact that he’d indoctrinated the same belief into them could somehow-please?-be assuaged.

It was a fine thought. It let her relax into her pillows with a sigh of contentment, and that was her last thought for a very long time.


She woke to banging.

Urgent banging.

She opened one eye and glanced cautiously at her bedside clock. Eight-fifteen.

This was her first morning of being open for business, she thought with a little glow of anticipation. She had a sign on the door saying she was ready for clients from nine a.m. Maybe this was the first one.

Maybe that was wishful thinking. Surely a potential client wouldn’t be banging with such urgency when it was three quarters of an hour before her advertised opening.

The sun was streaming in the window through the crimson oak leaves. She refused to be apprehensive on a morning like this, she told herself. She tossed back her covers, padded over to the window in her oversized T-shirt and threw open the window. Darcy was right below. He had his arms full of parcels, there were two dogs at his heels and he was banging on her door like he was really, really impatient.

‘I’m not open until nine,’ she said cautiously. ‘If you want a massage, you need to come back.’

He stood back and looked up.

‘It’s about time. I’ve been thumping on your door for five minutes.’

‘I was asleep.’ She let indignation enter her voice. He unsettled her but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

‘Let me in.’

‘I’m not dressed.’

‘I have breakfast,’ he said, and she thought about it. And glanced across to her bench where a solitary tea bag mocked her.

‘Breakfast?’

‘Eggs. Bacon. Tomatoes, crumpets, butter, orange juice, bananas, coffee, milk…’

‘Enough.’ There was a part of her-a really big part of her-that was saying, Stay away from this man. He disconcerted her and, more, he represented a world she no longer wanted anything to do with. But he was looking up with an expression that was a strange mix of hope and happiness.

He looked great. He’d lost his tie-his shirt was open and his trousers were more casual than the ones she’d seen him in until now. His hair was sort of tousled and soft.

He was smiling.

The feeling she’d gone to sleep with-that God was in his heaven and all was right with her world-was a sensation she’d hardly ever felt. Now here was this man and his face said he was feeling exactly the same. And he made the sensation grow.

Then there was the fact that his dogs were looking up at her, too, their huge eyes just as hopeful as their master’s. If she locked him out, she wouldn’t get a chance to hug his dogs.

She really needed her own dog. But meanwhile…

‘OK,’ she told him, trying to make her voice sound grudging. ‘Give me five minutes to get dressed.’

‘One minute,’ he told her. ‘Otherwise the boys and I will start on the bacon.’

‘Three minutes. Don’t you dare.’

She moved.

This was her opening day, she reminded herself as she had the world’s fastest shower and hauled on jeans and T-shirt. She’d change for work later.

From one lot of faded clothes to another?

So what? Her bubble of happiness refused to be dissolved because of worry that she didn’t have the right outfit. Today was her first day of being a professional massage therapist, and she’d enjoy it. As she’d enjoy hugging Jekyll and Hyde. And eating breakfast with their master?

Enough. Don’t ask questions, she told her reflection. She dragged a comb though her hair, took a disparaging look at herself in the cracked mirror over the bathroom basin, stuck out her tongue-and went to let in breakfast.

She smiled as she swung the door wide. He smiled, too, but then his smile faded.

She took an involuntary step backward.

‘What?’ she said, a trifle breathlessly.

‘You’re a doctor.’

It was like a slap. Oh, let’s get right to the point, she thought.

‘Did you smile at me just so I’d let you in?’ she demanded, and he looked confused.

‘No, I…’

‘Then smile again, or I’m not letting you in. Breakfast or not. This is a gorgeous morning and I refuse to let you spoil it.’ She glowered her best glower, and then she sighed as his smile didn’t return. He was looking as if he didn’t have a clue who or what she was.

Well, maybe she had to face this some time. She’d asked for it. And turning away Jekyll and Hyde would be just plain cruel. ‘OK, forget the inquisition and bring in the bacon,’ she told him. ‘Or are you just dropping it off and running?’

‘I’m here to share.’

‘Then come in. But you have to be nice.’

‘Of course I’ll be nice.’

‘You don’t be nice by saying “You’re a doctor” as if you’re saying “You’re a particularly poisonous and unwashed scorpion”.’

It didn’t produce so much as a glimmer of a smile. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I did,’ she said in some indignation. ‘In fact, in case you hadn’t noticed, I painted the fact in letters six feet high right next to the place you work. Dr Westruther. Bright blue paint. I seem to remember that you noticed.’

‘I didn’t mean…’