The Doctor She'd Never Forget

Praise for Annie Claydon

‘A compelling, emotional and highly poignant read that I couldn’t bear to put down. Rich in pathos, humour and dramatic intensity, it’s a spellbinding tale about healing old wounds, having the courage to listen to your heart and the power of love that kept me enthralled from beginning to end.’

—GoodReads on Once Upon a Christmas Night…

‘A lovely story—I really enjoyed this book, which was well-written by Annie, as always.’

—GoodReads on Re-awakening His Shy Nurse

‘Well-written, brilliant characters—I have never been disappointed by a book written by Annie Claydon.’

—GoodReads on The Rebel and Miss Jones

Wow. Just…wow.

By some unknown process which defied medical principles blood rushed simultaneously to Drew’s head and down to another part of his body that he’d been trying to ignore for the last two weeks. Sophie had pulled out all of the stops this time, and the transformation made him want to fall to his knees.

She glittered… no, shimmered…in a dark blue sequinned dress which clung to her curves. High silver sandals made her legs look impossibly long, and she held a small silver and blue clutch bag. Her hair was done in a gravity-defying arrangement of curls which framed her face perfectly.

‘You look…’ Words failed him.

She smiled, and a bright shiver ran down his spine. ‘Is that good speechless or bad speechless?’

‘Good. Definitely good speechless.’ Confounded as he was by her magic, Drew still couldn’t quite square the mathematics of six boxes and only one dress. ‘So what did your fairy godmother put in the other boxes?’

‘I had a choice of dresses.’ She giggled at his obvious confusion. ‘Designers lend things out all the time. It’s good publicity for them if a celebrity wears their latest creation.’

A sudden desire to see her in all six was quenched by the thought that she looked just perfect and he wouldn’t change a thing. He rose, pulling his jacket on and she smiled, looking him up and down unashamedly.

‘You scrub up pretty well too, Dr Taylor.’

Dear Reader,

There are times when being a writer gives me the opportunity to have a great deal of fun. Sophie Warner’s part in a film set in the 1940s meant I needed to know something about the costumes she might wear. And how better to find out than to ask two ladies whose memories stretch way back? I owe a big thank-you to Joan and Betty, who told me everything I needed to know—along with some funny stories that I don’t dare repeat! Thanks also to Lynne, for bringing both laughter and cake.

It makes me smile just to think of that morning. As I wrote this book I came to understand how much I define myself by the things I remember. Sophie’s traumatic brain injury has deprived her of the ability to retain all her memories. Some aren’t important, but what happens when you can’t remember the name of the man you might be falling in love with? And how can she defend herself when she doesn’t remember those compromising pictures on the internet ever being taken?

It’s not easy for Drew Taylor, either. A love affair is all about memories—the first time you kissed, that first touch. He’s not sure how he would cope if Sophie were to wake in the morning with no idea of what had happened the night before.

Thank you for reading Drew and Sophie’s story. I always enjoy hearing from readers, and you can contact me via my website at annieclaydon.com

Annie x

Cursed from an early age with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. After completing her degree in English Literature she indulged her love of romantic fiction and spent a long, hot summer writing a book of her own. It was duly rejected and life took over. A series of U-turns led in the unlikely direction of a career in computing and information technology, but the lure of the printed page proved too much to bear and she now has the perfect outlet for the stories which have always run through her head: writing Medical Romance™ for Mills & Boon®. Living in London—a city where getting lost can be a joy—she has no regrets for having taken her time in working her way back to the place that she started from.

The Doctor She’d Never Forget

Annie Claydon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my dear friend Betty

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Annie Claydon

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

FIVE MILES FELT a lot further than it had used to. The final hundred yards of Drew Taylor’s morning run left him feeling dizzy and sick from exertion.

‘Morning.’

If he hadn’t been so keen to gulp down a pint of water and collapse into a chair, Drew would have noticed the canary-yellow sports car parked across the street from his house and reckoned that Charlie would be around somewhere. As it was, the voice behind him came as a surprise.

‘Morning…’ Now that he’d reached his destination, Drew’s body gave up and bent double, his lungs craving air.

‘You’re out of shape, old man.’

‘Very probably. Is that what you came to tell me?’ Drew gripped his knees, staring hard at the paving stones at his feet, gasping for air.

‘Nah.’ Charlie shrugged and waited until Drew had recovered sufficiently to let them into the house. ‘I have a proposition for you.’

Charlie’s propositions were liable to get him into trouble. Their friendship had lasted since their university days on the basis that Drew was choosy about which of them he took seriously. ‘What?’

‘Hydrate first. You look as if you need it.’

‘That sounds ominous.’

‘Nah. This one’s a stroke of genius.’

‘Yeah. They always are.’ Drew poured himself a glass of water, while Charlie flipped open the kitchen cupboard, looking for coffee.

‘You’ve only got one coffee pod left.’

Drew shrugged. ‘Take it. I’m not drinking coffee at the moment.’

Charlie twisted the edges of his mouth down, and put the pod into the machine. ‘Not sleeping?’

‘I’m not used to doing nothing…’ Drew took a mouthful of water. That was only half the story and they both knew it.

It was his own stupid fault that he was stuck at home with nothing to do. When the hospital he’d worked in—actually lived for—had first been threatened with closure, Drew had spearheaded the campaign to keep it open. It had been a two-year struggle, culminating in failure and defeat.

When he’d finally faced the inevitable, and begun to look for another job, he’d landed one with relative ease. Head of a new memory clinic in London, which was due to open in three months’ time. In any other circumstances it would have been the job that Drew’s dreams were made of but now it was tainted by loss, and he was having difficulty working up much enthusiasm for it.

‘You’ll be thanking me in a minute, then.’ Charlie smiled beatifically.

Drew gave up. When Charlie got hold of an idea, he didn’t let go. They weren’t always good ideas, but enough of them had been great to make his friend a millionaire before his thirtieth birthday.

‘Okay. What am I going to be thanking you for?’

‘Someone I know has asked me for a favour, and I think it could work out perfectly for you. It’s a job…’

‘I have a job, remember?’

‘This is temporary. It’s a fantastic opportunity to get away from it all, take a bit of a break. Two weeks, a month tops…’ Charlie stopped, pressing his lips together. ‘This is absolutely top secret. Totally confidential and between ourselves.’

Generally Charlie’s idea of confidential was that it didn’t get as far as the newspapers quite yet, but it appeared this really was a secret. Drew chuckled. ‘Understood.’

‘Okay. Well, you’ve heard of Sophie Warner?’

Drew thought for a moment. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place it. ‘I don’t think so.’

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘She’s a big star. Gorgeous. Didn’t you see MacAdam on TV?’

‘I doubt it. Look, I’ll take it as read. Sophie Warner, brightest star in the firmament. What’s that got to do with me?’

‘Well, a friend of mine from America has contacted me. Carly’s an assistant director and she’s known Sophie Warner for years, since before she was famous. The two of them are working on a film together down in Devon at the moment.’

Friends of friends of friends. In Charlie’s world it was all about who you knew, not what you knew. Drew bit back the comment, reckoning that Charlie would get to the point quicker if he didn’t interrupt.

‘So they did the first lot of filming over here last winter. Just caught that heavy fall of snow we had, which was a bonus, and everything went like clockwork. Now they’re back again to do the summer scenes, and they’ve run into trouble.’

‘What kind of trouble?’ Drew couldn’t think of anything that his particular skills might help with on a film set. Apart from an outbreak of food poisoning, and a local doctor could deal with that.

‘There’s something the matter with Sophie. She’s acting like a diva—tantrums on set, turning up late, not learning her lines. She’s had a load of bad press in the last couple of months…’ Charlie shook his head. ‘We won’t go into that.’

It must be very bad if Charlie’s sense of discretion had kicked in. The woman sounded like a nightmare. ‘And what’s that got to do with me? I’m a neurologist, not a minder for spoilt children.’

‘That’s just the thing. Carly knows Sophie and she swears that this is not just the usual film star bad behaviour. She’s sticking her neck out here, and putting her own job on the line to protect Sophie, because she thinks there’s something wrong with her.’

‘What sort of something?’

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘If we knew that, we wouldn’t ask you, would we? Apparently Sophie was in a car accident a few months back and she just hasn’t been right since. She’s been shutting herself away for days, running off no one knows where. You get the picture…’

The picture was becoming horribly clear. ‘And your friend wants me to go down there and examine an errant film star, to see if I can come up with some medical excuse for her bad behaviour?’

‘No.’ Drew heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Carly’s already tried to get Sophie to go to a doctor and she won’t have any of it. Sophie’s playing a doctor in this film and so Carly wants to take you on as a set medical advisor. So you can watch Sophie and see if there really is anything wrong with her.’

‘What? You have to be joking…’ Drew drained his glass, setting it down on the kitchen counter with a crack. ‘I can’t do that, Charlie. It’s an ethical minefield.’

‘No, it’s not. I’ve seen you step into situations before without being asked. What about that time you bundled my gran into the car and took her up to the hospital?’

‘She was having a series of mini-strokes, Charlie. That’s completely different.’

‘No, it’s not. You saw something that no one else could see, and you acted on it.’

‘Yeah, and Doris isn’t some wild child looking for excuses.’

Charlie shot Drew an outraged look. ‘So it’s okay if it’s my gran, because nice little old ladies deserve your attention, is that it? You’re far too eminent in your field to bother with people who might be a bit awkward.’

‘No, of course not. You know me better than that, Charlie.’

‘It’d be a challenge…’

Charlie knew exactly what buttons to press. He always had with Drew.

‘Look, even if you could just talk to Carly, as a friend. Convince her to think about her own career for a moment and not let this Sophie character drag her down with her. I’d count it as a personal favour. At the very least it’ll be a couple of days out of town to clear your head. And the bike could do with a bit of a run.’

The thought of garaging the car, and just getting on his motorbike and riding somewhere, anywhere, seemed suddenly like a plan to Drew. Alone, on the open road, he might just be able to leave the bitterness over a past that couldn’t be changed behind him.

‘All right. I’ll talk to Carly.’ He sighed. ‘You’d better tell me whereabouts in Devon I’m supposed to be going.’

To give Charlie his due, everything had gone like clockwork. When he arrived at the comfortable country hotel, the receptionist was expecting him and directed him straight up to a sunny room, overlooking a nearby golf course.

He dropped his overnight bag on the bed. The drive down here had given him time to think. He’d seen this world, or one very like it, before. People who didn’t say what they meant. People who pretended to be one thing when, in fact, they were another. Beautiful people, like Gina, who had taken a young doctor’s heart and squeezed it hard until it had felt empty of anything but pain.

He was older now, and a great deal wiser. He’d talk to Charlie’s friend, make her see sense and go back to London in the morning. No real need to even unpack. Drew was halfway to the bathroom when a knock sounded on the door.

‘Carly DeAngelo.’ A young woman with dark curls, an American accent, and a no-nonsense air held her hand out for a brief handshake. ‘I really appreciate your coming all this way.’

‘My pleasure.’ It seemed that Charlie had already alerted Carly that he was coming and there was no need to seek her out.

‘Is it okay if we get together in half an hour? I’ve got another meeting later on this evening.’

That would be more than enough time to take a shower and change out of his grime-stained clothes. ‘That’s fine. I’ll meet you downstairs.’

Carly nodded. ‘Ask for the Blue Room. I’ll get them to bring us something to eat.’

The Blue Room turned out to be a small, private dining room, overlooking the sea. The highly polished table was set with heavy silver cutlery and Drew moved the centrepiece of dried flowers before he sat down. He had a feeling that eye-to-eye contact was going to be necessary to persuade Carly that this arrangement really was a bad idea.

‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to sign this.’ Carly extracted some stapled sheets of paper from a bulging portfolio she’d brought with her, and pushed them across the table towards him. ‘It’s a confidentiality agreement.’

That was fine. Drew didn’t intend to even think about this after tonight, let alone talk about it. He picked up the pen that Carly had placed ready, and she shook her head. ‘Read it first.’

Drew read the pages carefully and signed. ‘Now we can talk.’

The appearance of a waiter put the moment off. Carly ignored the menu and ordered a salad, and Drew decided that he was too hungry to bother with food that could be picked at during the course of a conversation and ordered steak and chips. He wasn’t considering saying much anyway. No just about covered it.

‘Charlie’s told you a bit about this.’ She waited for the waiter to close the door behind himself before she spoke.

‘He’s told me that you’re worried about your friend. That her behaviour’s been erratic recently and she won’t see a doctor.’

‘Yeah. I’m a third assistant director here…’ Drew raised a querying eyebrow, and Carly smiled. ‘That sounds a bit more important than it is. I’m pretty low on the pecking order. Sophie helped me get the job and when we were over here last winter, doing the first lot of shooting, everything went really well.’

‘And now you’re back, things have changed?’

‘Yeah. Joel, the director, knows that Sophie and I are close, and he’s assigned me to her in the hope that I can get her under control a bit. But it’s just impossible. The film world’s a very small one, and no one’s going to touch her when she’s finished here if she’s not careful.’

First things first. He wasn’t a career consultant. ‘If you think your friend is ill, then my first advice to you, or to her for that matter, is that she sees a doctor.’

‘You’re a doctor. If you stay here for a couple of weeks, then you’ll see Sophie all the time.’

‘I can’t make any kind of diagnosis by just looking at someone. It doesn’t work that way.’

‘But you could tell me what you think. What the best way to proceed is. Charlie says you’re a neurologist, you must be able to recognise the symptoms…’

‘The symptoms of what?’

Carly flushed, looking down at her hands. ‘Sophie was in a car accident about four months ago, when we went back to the States after we were here last winter. She hit her head, the side of her face was all bruised up…’ Her hand wandered to her own temple and along the side of her jaw.

‘And she saw a doctor after the accident?’

‘Yes, she was taken to the hospital. They looked her over, X-rayed her, gave her some painkillers and released her. Told her to come back again if there were any problems.’

‘And did she?’

‘No. She called me and said she was going away for a holiday, and she disappeared completely for a couple of weeks. When she got back she was… different, She’s vague, and defensive, and… She’s just not Sophie any more.’

It was obvious what Carly was thinking. Drew knew that this wouldn’t be the first case of traumatic brain injury that had been overlooked in a general examination after an accident, and imagined it wouldn’t be the last. If TBI was what they were dealing with here.

‘I have to ask you this. Are you aware of her being involved with drink or drugs at all?’

Carly’s mouth twisted. ‘You’ve been reading the scandal sheets, haven’t you.’

‘No. I’d ask that question of anyone.’ Maybe not quite anyone. Drew rejected the thought that it had been a little higher on the list than usual.

‘She drinks a glass of wine with dinner sometimes, that’s all. And it’s not drugs.’ Carly flashed him a defiant look. ‘I’d know.’

‘Would you?’

‘I’ve been around this business long enough. I’m not stupid. For a start…’

Carly bent her little finger back, as if she was about to give a list of all the signs of drug abuse, and then swallowed her words as the waiter entered with their food.

‘Something to drink?’

Drew was about to say no. It was early enough to eat and then get back on his bike and go—he’d be home by midnight. Then he caught sight of the tears brimming in Carly’s eyes.

‘A glass of house red would be great. Thanks.’

Carly nodded, and ordered the house white for herself. ‘She’s not using drugs. I’d swear to it. She doesn’t even take painkillers when she has a headache, just shuts herself away in her trailer.’

‘She has headaches?’

‘Yeah. Fewer than she says, sometimes she just doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but there are times when she’s telling the truth.’

How was Carly so sure? Drew’s experience of show business was limited to a couple of photographic shoots he’d been to with Gina, but his impression then had been that everyone treated the truth as if it was an optional extra. Gina had confirmed those suspicions herself, by lying to him with startling aptitude.

The waiter returned with their drinks, and Drew took a sip from his glass. At the back of his mind it registered that it was a very good red, and he took another swallow. ‘Look, Carly…’

‘Don’t. Please don’t tell me you can’t help because I know that you can. Please…’ Carly picked up her glass with a shaking hand and then put it down again and blew her nose on her napkin.

Perhaps Charlie had tipped her the wink that tears would help her case. Drew rejected the unworthy thought and apologised silently to his friend. Lying and manipulation were Gina’s style, not Charlie’s.

‘Okay. What do you want me to do?’ He could at least listen.

‘I’ve got the okay to employ a medical consultant on set. I said that it might help Sophie and right now the director would try just about anything to get her to pull herself together.’

‘I understand that she plays a doctor in the film.’

‘Yes. It’s set in 1944…’ Carly pulled a large, spiral-bound document from her portfolio before Drew had a chance to object that he knew nothing about historical medical techniques.

‘We’ve got this manual, written by an eminent medical historian. That’ll help you. And injuries are injuries, so you won’t have any trouble talking to the special effects guys about making them look authentic.’

‘But you’ve managed this far…?’ Drew picked his knife and fork up, in a signal that none of this held any water, and he was going to eat. The knife sliced through the tender, succulent steak as if it were butter.

‘We had a set consultant when we were here last winter, but we didn’t reckon we needed anyone this time around because there’s less medical emphasis. But when I told the director it might help Sophie, he agreed like a shot. No one cares about the cost of it, we’re talking a multi-million-dollar project here.’

Drew wondered what those many millions might have done, applied a little more usefully. Kept his old hospital open maybe. ‘Even assuming I take the job, I can’t do what you ask, Carly. The thing that will really help Miss Warner is to see a doctor, in a professional setting.’

Carly’s stricken look would have made Drew relent if he hadn’t been so sure that he was right. ‘Okay, then. What does work for you?’

‘What works for me is that I go back to London in the morning. If you want set advice, you get in touch with someone who’s interested in that kind of thing. And if you want advice on Miss Warner’s condition, you persuade her to go and see a doctor.’

Carly thought for a moment. ‘That makes sense. Now, given that Sophie’s adamant that she won’t see a doctor, and that I’m out of options and pretty desperate, is there anything else you can suggest?’

It was a straight question, with an easy enough answer. ‘I could stay on for a day. I’d be happy to meet with Miss Warner and try to persuade her.’

‘And she’ll say no, and then you’ll walk away. Job’s done as far as you’re concerned and nothing changes.’ Carly’s lip curled in contempt.

‘That’s not…’ Drew swallowed his words. It was exactly how it was. He was the one engaging in half-truths and excuses, not Carly. If he didn’t want this job, he should just say so.

But he couldn’t. However unlikely his role here and despite the fact that it wasn’t going to push the boundaries of medical science, it was somehow intriguing. Did he even have the right to call himself a doctor if he chose to turn his back now?

‘If I decided to do it, and I haven’t yet, there’d be conditions.’

‘Fair enough. I want you to tell me how to do this, not the other way around.’ Carly nodded him on, obviously aware that she’d found a chink in his armour.