Nothing Left to Give

He crouched on the floor beside Beth and bent over the ulcer, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

‘Well, I think it looks better than last time, but it certainly isn’t progressing fast. Perhaps we should try some paste in it. That might help dry it up a little.’

Beth nodded, then redressed the wound, filling the pitting in the leg with Comfeel paste before replacing the colloid dressing with a fresh one. While she worked Mrs Robinson quizzed her openly.

‘You’re new, aren’t you?’

Beth nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s my first day.’

‘Staying with Dr Pendragon, I hear.’

‘In the coach house flat,’ Beth filled in hastily. No point in letting that rumour run away with itself! But it seemed her patient was better informed than that.

‘‘Oh, I know that, dear,’ she said. ‘Wonderful now, isn’t it? Met the children yet?’

Beth shook her head. ‘No—no, I haven’t.

‘Lovely children—such a shame about the mother.’

‘Mmm.’ Beth was deliberately non-committal, not wishing to get into a discussion about Gideon with this sweet but congenitally nosy old dear—and particularly not about his wife. She had already floundered in there where angels with any sense would fear to tread. ‘How does that feel?’ she asked.

‘Better. Thank you so much, dear.’

Beth showed her out, holding the door for the fragile little woman, and as she watched her go she wondered how far the old lady had to come.

‘Mrs Robinson?’ she called, running after her. ‘Would it help you if the district nurse came to do your dressing?’

Bright eyes sparkled up at Beth. ‘Oh, no, dear—I’d miss all the gossip! Besides, I only live next door.’

Beth smiled and let her go. The exercise and change of scene was probably good for her, anyway.

David Hendry, Gideon’s smoking heart bypass patient, walked past her as she was about to go back in. She knew it was him because as he passed her he paused to speak, then raised his hand to his mouth and coughed, and Beth could hear the damage he was doing in the bronchitic rattle from his chest.

‘Nasty cough you’ve got there,’ she said conversationally. ‘Bad cold?’

‘Nah—damn fags cause that. The dreaded weed.’

She smiled sympathetically. ‘Tough giving up, isn’t it? I used to smoke myself when I was training, but I gave up when I became a staff nurse! I still remember how hard it was.’

Her patient snorted. ‘You’re telling me. I’ve tried—God knows I’ve tried, but this time it’s got to work. There’s just too much at stake.’ He met her eyes, his own pleading. ‘I gather you’re running the Stop Smoking clinic with Dr Pendragon.’

‘That’s right.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Well, I wish you luck with me. I can’t do it on my own, but I really must make it stick this time.’

She laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled. ‘We’ll get you there, Mr Hendry, don’t you worry. You’ll do it this time. I won’t let you fail.’

He met her eyes, and she could see doubt and scepticism mingled with hope in their depths.

‘I’ll see you Monday, then.’

She watched him go, a relatively young man whom lack of exercise, family history and years of self-abuse had threatened with an untimely end. Could she save him? Not alone, of course, but would her contribution make any difference to the final outcome?

She didn’t know, but one thing she was sure of— she’d have a damn good try.

Friday, and the end of the week. Beth dropped the patient records back into Reception and smiled at Molly.

‘All done?’

She nodded. ‘I hope so. I’ve got to sort some things out for the Stop Smoking clinic on Monday, but otherwise I think I’ve done everything.’

‘Good.’ Molly glanced up at her. ‘Settling in all right at the Rectory?’

‘Oh, yes—it’s lovely,’ Beth told her honestly, genuinely delighted by her accommodation. She was less sure about her boss, though. Other than strictly professional exchanges, he had been very distant since the first night—really, since she had made that remark about his wife.

How was she to know, though? The man didn’t have a brand on his forehead that proclaimed him a widower. She felt bad that she’d hurt him, even so, especially after he had bent over backwards to make her welcome.

His desperation had certainly been justified, she acknowledged. She had worked full-time these past two days to help Julie catch up with her backlog, and then from Monday would be working just the mornings and Tuesday afternoon, as planned, with the smoking cessation clinic on Monday evenings some of the time.

For someone used to working full-time, it wasn’t much. She would have to find something to fill her leisure hours. Maybe one of her elderly patients had a dog that needed walking, or perhaps she could do some shopping for one of them. She’d ask—but not now. Now, she wanted to find a shop in the square and buy something to eat tonight, and then go back and cook it and eat it in front of the television, curled up on that unbelievably comfortable sofa.

Maybe she’d take up patchwork or tapestry or something to while away the long winter evenings.

It was only September, but already the nights were drawing in and there was a chill in the air.

She said goodnight to Molly and headed for the door.

Spaghetti, perhaps, or maybe a couple of those wonderful cheeses from the specialist food shop that lurked innocently on one side of the square.

She went in and bought some dolcelatte and a slice of a sheep’s milk roulé, and then on impulse picked up a bottle of Chianti.

‘Celebrating something?’

He didn’t mean to speak to her, but it was difficult to avoid her all the time and he didn’t want to be conspicuously churlish.

She turned and smiled, the wine in her hand. ‘Not really—it just looked appealing.’

‘You shouldn’t drink alone,’ he found himself saying.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t, as a rule, but—well, I thought tonight…’

She looked suddenly wistful, and he found himself asking her to join them for supper. ‘Nothing fancy—just spaghetti bolognese, I think, tonight. It’s Will’s turn, and he always does spaghetti.’

She nearly laughed. ‘I was going to cook that for myself.’

‘So will you come?’ He found himself waiting for her reply.

‘Thank you, yes, I will. I’ll bring the cheeses—we can have them afterwards.’

Her smile brushed her eyes with gold, and he felt the ache start again, low down. Damn. Now what had he done?

‘Fine,’ he said tersely. ‘Seven o’clock?’

‘That would be lovely—if you’re sure?’

‘Quite sure,’ he lied. ‘We’ll see you then—I’ll leave the lights on.’

CHAPTER TWO

IN FACT it was still fairly light at seven o’clock although dusk was creeping in, but the lights made the big house seem even more welcoming as Beth scrunched up the gravel drive and rang the doorbell.

She waited for a moment, then rang it again. She could hardly hear it in the distance, over the music—at least two sorts, if not three—and the screaming of a child.

She smiled. That would be the small girl, in a paddy if she was any judge. She opened the door and walked into a scene of utter pandemonium.

The little girl was lying on the floor screaming, there was steam billowing out of the kitchen, and from the depths of the steam something with a heavy bass-line throbbed and wailed at full blast. The television was blaring forth from another room, and something else filtered down from upstairs.

She closed her eyes and tried not to laugh. Poor man, no wonder he hadn’t heard the doorbell!

She went into the kitchen and found it empty except for a pan of boiling water and the music. Both needed switching off—she went for the music first. Then she found the TV in the breakfast-room next door and switched that off.

The silence was shattering. Even the little girl stopped screaming to listen to it.

She went back out into the hall, now quiet except for the music emanating from an upstairs room.

‘Hello,’ she said to the child, and she sat up and eyed Beth warily.

‘‘I?.’

‘I’m Beth.’

‘I’m Sophie.’

She sat on the floor beside the child. ‘What’s wrong, Sophie?’

‘Nothing,’ she mumbled mutinously. ‘I can’t find Daddy. I called him.’

Beth shot a glance at the kitchen. ‘I don’t suppose he could hear you. Shall we see if we can find him?’

‘Who turned that off?’ a voice yelled over the banisters, and a youth vaulted over the top rail on to the middle of the first flight and bounded down to the hall.

‘I did.’

‘Ah.’ He skidded to a halt at her feet and peered down at her. ‘Um—is Sophie all right?’

She looked up at a younger version of Gideon, thinner and still a little gangly, but filling out fast. The eyes were identical.

‘I think so—I imagine she was just trying to make herself heard,’ she said drily.

He flushed. ‘You must be the nurse.’ He held down his hand and hauled her to her feet with a grin. ‘I’m William.’

She returned the grin. ‘I’m Beth. I turned off your hot water, as well, but there wasn’t much left.’

There was a tug at her hand. ‘Find Daddy,’ Sophie demanded.

William scooped her up into his arms. ‘Daddy’s in the shower.’ He looked over Sophie to Beth. ‘He sends his apologies—he won’t be a sec. He’s had a bit of a crisis in the bathroom. You couldn’t help me get Sophie into bed so I can get the spaghetti on, could you? The sauce is made.’

‘I want ‘ghetti.’

‘You’ve had yours—go on, Tuppence, don’t be a pain.’ He kissed her and handed her over to Beth. ‘Top of the stairs, turn sharp right. You can’t miss her room—it’s got pink furry things all over the floor.’ Sophie giggled. ‘He means My Little Ponies. Want to see?’

Beth smiled at her, her heart twisting. She was such a cherub. ‘Love to. Shall we?’

She set her down and they walked together up the stairs, hand in hand, while Beth wondered what sort of a crisis Gideon could possibly have had in the bathroom. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

‘I had a bath,’ Sophie told Beth seriously as they mounted the stairs. ‘A big one.’

‘Oh,’ Beth replied just as seriously. ‘Very big?’

Sophie nodded. ‘Too big—all the water fell over the top, and all the bubbles. Daddy threw a mega.’

She caught the laugh just in time. That expression just had to be straight out of her big brother’s or sister’s mouth. Lips twitching, she turned the corner at the top of the stairs just in time to see Gideon cross the landing clad only in a towelling robe belted loosely on his hips.

‘Beth!’

She smiled uncertainly. ‘Um—Sophie was yelling for you. William asked me to put her to bed…’

‘That boy—OK, Tuppence, come on, let’s tuck you up —’

She hid her hands firmly behind her back.

‘Beth do it.’

‘No, Daddy do it—‘

‘No.’ The chin stuck out, the cherub lips pursed in a determined little pout.

‘Really, I don’t mind ——’

‘Sophie ——’

‘Please, Daddy, please?’

They stood looking down at the little minx, and Beth had a sudden pang in the region of her heart that just wouldn’t be denied. ‘I would like to—may I? I could read her a story while you get changed.’

He glanced down, as if he had suddenly realised he was hardly dressed for the occasion, and a slow, rueful smile crawled across his face.

‘Be my guest,’ he said gruffly, and turned away from her. ‘Ten minutes, Sophie, all right?’

‘All right,’ she piped, and, taking Beth’s hand, she led her into her room.

It was a lovely evening. Claire, the middle child, was quiet and watchful at first, but having established Beth was not a threat she opened up and was quite charming. Will was good fun, Beth decided, despite the shatteringly loud music, and Sophie—well, she had fallen in love with Sophie sitting on the hall floor and nothing had happened to change that. Gideon was a bit of an enigma, though, quiet and watchful like Claire but without opening up.

Maybe he never did. The children didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual in his behaviour, and he was perfectly polite. It was just that he was withdrawn, almost as if he regretted issuing the invitation, and when she said she ought to be going he leapt to his feet with alacrity.

‘I’ll walk you back,’ he said firmly, and so she said goodnight to the children, thanked William for cooking the meal and allowed Gideon to hustle her out of the door.

He didn’t really, it was just that she was being oversensitive—or perhaps just picking up accurately on something he had meant to keep to himself.

They walked back to the coach house with only the sound of gravel underfoot to break the silence, glad now of the outside lights that dispelled the shadows of the trees and drove the spooks away.

‘I’m sorry about the chaos when you arrived,’ he said finally as they arrived at her door.

She shot him a wry grin. ‘I should imagine it’s like that in most families in the evening,’ she replied, unaware of the slight wistfulness in her voice.

He tipped his head, watching her thoughtfully. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

She nearly laughed. ‘No,’ she told him instead. ‘Once was enough for my parents. I disrupted the even tenor of their peaceful academia quite sufficiently without them making a habit of it.’

‘You sound bitter.’

‘Do I? I’m sorry, I would have thought by now I’d got over that. I have, really. It’s just—well, tonight—you’re a very lucky man, Gideon. A very lucky man.’

His laugh was low and hollow. ‘It doesn’t always seem like that.’

‘When you’re mopping the bathroom floor, for instance?’

He snorted. ‘Exactly. Oh, well. Thank you for your help with Sophie, by the way. She can be a real treasure when she’s not arguing.’

‘I noticed.’

A silence fell between them, a silence heavy with awareness and tension. He reached behind her and opened the door, pushing it wide.

‘You’d better go in before you get cold,’ he muttered, his voice husky.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘My pleasure. Goodnight.’ He turned and walked away, his footsteps crunching. She shut the door. Had he been about to kiss her?

She wouldn’t like to bet on it either way, but she rather thought…

Nonsense. She ran up the stairs, unable to resist looking out of the window towards the house. He was standing by the door and waved before turning to go in.

Waiting for her, to see if she would look at him?

God knows, she thought. She whipped the curtains shut. Involvement with another family man was the last thing she needed right now, even if he was widowed and his tiny daughter had felt so absolutely right in her achingly empty arms…

She spent the weekend moving things up from London and writing endless letters changing her address. The flat was rented, so she gathered all her meagre belongings and took them to Suffolk, storing them easily in the huge cupboards in the coach house flat.

At six o’clock, just as she realised she was starving and was wondering what she could find to eat, she heard footsteps on the gravel and her doorbell rang.

She went down to find William there, lounging casually against the wall, a lazy grin on his face.

‘Dad says would you like to join us for supper? He’s got something he wants to ask you about. He would have come but he’s had a bit of a crisis with the Yorkshire puds and Sophie’s spilt the gravy all over the table.’

She controlled the smile, but apparently not well enough.

‘I should get that out of your system here,’ Will told her with a grin. ‘He’s like Queen Victoria at the moment—definitely not amused.’

She laughed. ‘Poor Gideon. Yes, I’d love to join you—am I OK or should I change?’

Will ran an eye over her jeans and sweatshirt, and raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll do fine. Dad’s probably changed, but then he had gravy down his front, so he didn’t have a choice.’

She ran back up for her keys, flicked off the lights and followed William back to the house. They went in through the back door this time, straight into the heart of the chaos.

It was a quieter sort of chaos this time, Beth realised, but still fairly hectic.

The vegetables were boiling over, and while William dealt with them Beth scooped Sophie off the worktop just as she tried to reach the top cupboard.

‘I want a biscuit!’ the indignant child yelled, but Beth was not impressed.

‘No. It’s supper-time, you’ll spoil your appetite. Let’s go and see if we can help Daddy.’

‘He doesn’t want to see me in there again until I’ve learned not to be a windmill,’ she told Beth dolefully.

She just managed to stop her lips from twitching. ‘Oh, dear. Never mind, you come with me and keep your hands down and you’ll be all right.’

She went out into the hall and found Claire sitting on the floor, the flex of the phone wound round her arm and hand, rolling her eyes. ‘Well, don’t do it, then! I can’t believe how you let them rule your life. Tell them no, you don’t want to practise—oh, Annie, what do you mean you can’t?’

Beth walked past her into the dining-room just as Gideon walked out yelling to Claire to put the damn phone down.

They both slammed to a halt, nose to nose, and Gideon ran his fingers through well-tousled hair and shot her a fraught grin. ‘Hi, Beth. Glad you could make it—I could do with a little sanity round here.’

She smiled back. ‘Anything I can do?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s as good as it’s going to get. Let’s eat and forget it.’

Together they brought the last of the food through and Beth watched as he deftly slivered the rare beef and piled it on the plates.

He might have had the odd crisis en route, but there was nothing wrong with the end product at all—if one discounted the absence of Yorkshire puddings and the small amount of gravy that had escaped Sophie’s wind-milling arms.

They all tucked in, and after it was finished and they had cleaned up a huge chocolate gâteau from the bakery in the village, Gideon sent Beth into the drawing-room while he put Sophie to bed and William and Claire cleared up the kitchen.

A few minutes later he reappeared, two mugs of coffee in his hands, and pushed the door shut behind him with his hip.

‘Peace,’ he said with a sigh, and dumping the coffee on the table, he dropped into the other end of the settee and smiled weakly. ‘Sorry it’s always so chaotic when you come round.’

‘It must be very difficult coping,’ she told him honestly, and he laughed.

Oh, God, you aren’t joking! Actually, that’s one reason I wanted to see you. My housekeeper’s not well—she’s got angina, and she’s been getting worse gradually over the past few months. She had a TIA, a transient ischaemic attack, like a temporary stroke, over the weekend, and I think the time’s come for her to stop. And that, as you can imagine, leaves me with a problem.’

‘Gosh, yes, I can imagine it does!’

His next words caught her completely by surprise.

‘I don’t suppose you’d consider helping out? Just a couple of hours every afternoon after Sophie comes out of school until I get back? The odd bit of shopping—I can do most of it at the weekend or one evening, but I can’t expect Will or Claire to cook a meal or look after Sophie when they’ve got homework of their own to do. I’d pay you what I pay you at the surgery—we could offset the rent against it or something, and of course you’d eat with us.’

He fell silent, and she stared at her feet, unsure what to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled into the silence. ‘Of course you don’t want to do it—I don’t know what possessed me to ask you.’

‘No—no, please—can I think about it? I mean, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to look for another job, but I was wondering what I could do to fill in the time. I hate being idle—can I let you know?’

He looked relieved, she thought, that she hadn’t given him an outright refusal. She wasn’t sure, in fact, why she hadn’t, because she was very torn. The trouble was, she realised later as she lay in bed thinking it over, she wanted to do it too badly.

Sophie had carved a little niche in her heart, and watching Will and Claire with Gideon just made her aware of how much she had missed with her own parents.

So working for him would be very bitter-sweet.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea after all.

Which was ridiculous, because she had nothing better to do, and some frightful creature might end up looking after Sophie and she could become very unhappy as a result.

No, she would do it, she decided—and refuse house-room to the mocking voice that questioned her motives. Of course she wasn’t doing it to be near Gideon! After all, she was near him all day at work!

But it wasn’t quite the same, and in her heart she knew it.

Monday dawned bright and clear, one of those lovely late September days that made you wonder why you lit the fire the night before.

Beth dressed carefully in her uniform, made her bed and let herself out of the flat. A brisk two-minute walk was just what she needed to blow away the cobwebs.

A scrunch of gravel behind her made her turn her head in time to see Gideon coming down the drive towards her.

She waited for him, deciding to give him her decision straight away.

His smile was distracted.

‘Problems?’ she asked.

‘Claire—she said she wasn’t feeling very well and refused to go to school.’

Oh. Well, if it helps I’ll go over as soon as I finish and see how she is.’

He shot her a curious look. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve given my suggestion any further thought, have you?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes—I’ve decided I’ll do it, but only in return for the rent. I don’t want to be paid—not if I’m eating with you as well, and it would make sense to do that if you’re sure?’

He stopped in his tracks, turning to her, his grey-green eyes filled with relief. Oh, Beth, I don’t know how to thank you ——’

She gave a dry laugh. ‘You haven’t tasted my cooking yet!’

He chuckled. ‘It can’t be worse than Mrs Archer’s.’

‘Hmm. I should reserve judgement, if I were you.’

They walked the rest of the way mostly in silence, with Gideon putting in the odd comment about routine while Beth wondered if it was really going to be such a good idea spending any more time than was strictly necessary in the company of this very attractive man.

The first session of the Stop Smoking clinic was a delight for Beth. She found that she agreed wholeheartedly with everything Gideon said, and that the videos, leaflets and advice he exposed the patients to followed almost exactly the routine she had been using.

She then talked to the patients about why they wanted to give up, and what made them smoke in the first place. They were then given a diary, and asked to set a date for giving up.

‘Don’t think of it as giving up—that implies self-sacrifice,’ Gideon told them. Think of it instead as taking control of your life again, instead of allowing tobacco to rule your actions. Note down in the diary when you smoke, and why. There will be some cigarettes that are harder to give up than others. Note which ones you think they will be.’

When the patients left, she could see some of them already looked discouraged.

They always want a miracle,’ Gideon said on the way home. They seem to think we’re going to wave a wand and it will all come right. Zap! No more cravings, no more addiction, just “I’m a non-smoker”. What they don’t realise is that they will always be smokers now, they just won’t be doing it.’

‘Unless they fail,’ Beth said drily.

Oh, yes—and lots of them will. I think we’ll lose at least one by next week.’

‘Not David Hendry, though.’

‘No—no, not Hendry. He’s determined. He’s already cut down from sixty to thirty. I don’t know when he finds the time!’

Beth laughed. ‘He needs an occupation that uses his hands—he wouldn’t be able to then.’