His Very Special Bride

He frowned. ‘I doubt very much that this will be what you want, but certainly I can let you into the house. I’m Ben, by the way. Ben Brinkley.’

‘Sarah…Hall.’ She hesitated over the words that still seemed strange to her. She had no idea who she really was, but the name Sarah had been on the tip of her tongue when they’d asked her at the hospital, and from the outset, as young as she was, Emily had called herself Emily Hall. So that was the name that had stuck. Despite all the attempts that had been made to track Sarah’s origins, though, none had revealed anything of who she was and where she had come from.

He reached into his pocket and took out a key, inserting it into the lock of the back door. ‘If you take my advice, you’ll look elsewhere. I’ve been opening the windows to air the place, but I suspect there’s a problem with damp, and I don’t think anyone’s going to be dealing with it any time soon. I arranged for someone to come and put in a new fire for Alfred in the living room, so that he could be warm at least, and I’ve decorated the main bedroom and replaced the rotting window-frame in there, but there’s a limit to how much I’ve been able to do, given the hours I work.’ He pushed open the door to the kitchen and waved a hand for her to go inside.

Sarah walked into the room, and her spirits sank as soon as she looked around. It seemed as though the kitchen hadn’t been touched since the turn of the previous century, with battered stand-alone cupboards lining the walls and a plain, rectangular wooden table in the middle of the room. The north-facing wall showed patches of damp, extending along its length. As for any means of cooking, there was a rusty old range up against one wall. She frowned. ‘I wonder how Alfred managed to cook his meals.’

‘I think he mostly relied on the microwave to heat things up,’ Ben said, ‘or he would come round to my place to share a meal with me.’

Sarah smiled. ‘It sounds as though you were a good neighbour to him.’

Ben gave a negligent shrug. ‘I did what I could.’ He glanced around. ‘Let me show you the rest of the place. It won’t take long, because there’s only the kitchen and living room downstairs, and just the two dormer bedrooms and a small bathroom upstairs. It’s all very much on a par with what you see down here.’

He sounded as though he thought the tour was a waste of time, and Sarah gave him a quick sidelong look. Why was he so sure that she wouldn’t want to live here?

‘Are you hoping to put me off?’ she queried lightly.

He pushed open the door to the living room. ‘I think the house will do that all by itself,’ he said. His glance skimmed over her. ‘Besides, you’re as slender as a string bean and you don’t look as though you have the wherewithal to tackle the work that would be needed to put things right.’

Sarah made a face at that. His comment about her slender shape had struck home. People had remarked on how slim she was. Perhaps it had been the time she had spent in hospital and the confusion as to who she was and what had happened to her that had made her lose weight. The clothes she had been wearing when she had been found no longer fitted her, but hung on her slender frame.

She stiffened her shoulders. All that was going to change. She was determined to make a new start, if only for Emily’s sake.

‘Isn’t that the landlord’s responsibility?’

‘Maybe, but it’s unlikely that Alfred’s family will be doing any renovations in the short term. Their responsibilities end with matters of health and safety…things like making sure that the appliances are in sound condition.’

So any changes to make the place comfortable would be left to the tenant, assuming that permission was given. Sarah pressed her lips together, absorbing that fact before she started to look around.

The living room was drab, in need of decorating, and the heavy curtains tended to block out the light, lending a sombre air to the place. On the plus side, there were one or two small pieces of furniture that pointed to someone with a collector’s eye, and she noted a cabinet housing several antiques that wouldn’t have been out of place in a fine country mansion.

Upstairs, the main bedroom was clean and comfortable, with softly patterned walls and freshly painted woodwork, though the second bedroom was in a sorry state. The floor covering was brittle and cracked, and the paper on the walls was yellowed with age. Poor Alfred must have been in desperate need of help until Ben had come along.

‘The bathroom isn’t too bad. It’s a bit cramped, but at least the plumbing is in order.’ Ben showed her into the room and then waited outside on the landing while she took a look around.

The bath was Victorian in style, with clawed feet and chipped enamel, and, as he had said, there was very little room to spare. Sarah suspected that what had once been a large bathroom had been divided to allow for a second bedroom.

‘Thank you for showing me around,’ she said, as they started down the narrow stairs. ‘I do appreciate you taking the time. I’ll have to call in on the estate agent tomorrow and tell him about the mix-up.’

‘I expect he already knows. Like you said, someone looking at a Bridge End Road property is probably wondering right now why his key isn’t working.’

Back in the kitchen, Sarah took a last look around. None of what she had seen filled her with enthusiasm, and perhaps that showed in her expression because Ben said, ‘Don’t think of it as a waste of time, but more as a guide to comparing properties in the future. You’ve gained an idea of what there is at the bottom of the heap.’

He walked with her out into the garden and turned to lock the door. ‘Better luck next time.’

She sent him an oblique glance. ‘You’re very sure that I won’t be coming back, aren’t you? Are you going to be this way with all your potential neighbours, or are you hoping that the place will stay empty?’

‘Now, there’s an appealing thought,’ he said in a musing tone. ‘I could enjoy the tranquillity of a country retreat, with nothing to disturb me except for the birdsong every morning. I think I might work on that some more, and maybe I’ll be able to come up with a plan of action.’

Sarah might have believed that he was joking if it hadn’t been for the pensive flicker that stirred in the depths of his grey eyes. Maybe he was something of a loner, content to spend his leisure time in solitary comfort.

Either way, he was already walking her back to her car, and she guessed that for him the incident was over and done with. He would see her on her way, and then retreat to his peaceful hideaway.

As for Sarah, she had a decision to make. Would the cottage make a suitable home for Emily? And how would the doctor take to having a lively child around the place? Not too well, she would imagine, if he really valued a quiet life.

CHAPTER TWO

A GENTLE smile touched Sarah’s lips as she gazed down at the sleeping child. Emily’s honey-coloured curls were splayed out over the pillow, her golden lashes brushing the softness of her cheeks. Her tiny hands held the bedspread lightly as she began to stir.

‘Emily, sunbeam, it’s time to wake up.’ Sarah stroked her daughter’s silky hair and Emily’s eyelids fluttered open.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her fists and then lifted her arms up to Sarah, winding them around her neck. ‘Am I going to nursery today?’

‘Yes.’ Sarah gave her a kiss and a hug. ‘I’m going to take you there as soon as we’ve had breakfast. That will be good, won’t it? You’ll be able to play with the other children.’

Emily scrunched up her nose. ‘I want to go in the little cars. Joseph pusheded me out the way last time and the teacher telled him off.’ She frowned. ‘Will we be able to go outside?’

Sarah smiled. ‘I expect so. It’s a beautiful day today, so you’ll probably be playing outside for quite a lot of the time. And I’m sure the teacher will be looking out for Joseph, to make sure that he takes his turn along with everyone else.’

Emily smiled contentedly. ‘Don’t want that T-shirt,’ she said, pointing to the pile of clothes that Sarah had laid out ready. ‘I want the pink one with the shiny writing.’

‘Oh, you do, do you, madam?’ Sarah put her head on one side, looking on with amusement as the little girl scrambled out of bed. ‘And I suppose you want the pink hair slides as well, do you?’

The child nodded and scampered into the bathroom, leaving Sarah to follow. ‘Well, I dare say we can do that,’ Sarah murmured. ‘Let’s see how we get on with you washing and dressing yourself, shall we? Perhaps you can manage to pull your top on all by yourself today.’

‘I can.’ Emily’s voice rose with astonishment. ‘I can do it. Mummy forgetted.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Perhaps I did. You’ll have to show me all over again.’ She knew very well that Emily was beginning to manage her clothes for herself, but even so she had to acknowledge that it wasn’t unusual for her to have trouble recalling the small everyday things that cropped up. There were still times when she felt confused, as though her mind was playing tricks on her.

She was getting better every day, though, and yesterday’s visit to the cottage had been something of a landmark achievement, albeit that it had been marred by her unexpected meeting with the good-looking doctor.

What must he have made of her? He probably thought that she was a strange young woman with a decidedly nonconformist manner. Then again, she had at least managed to recover her composure, and she had been able to talk to him as though her actions were perfectly normal.

Even Carol had to admit that she was stronger in all ways… Sarah frowned. All but the one that really counted.

It was a fact that she still didn’t know who she was, and her past remained a mystery to her. Much as she loved her daughter, it still seemed alien to her to have discovered that she was the mother of this beautiful child. These last few months had been like a rebirth, in every sense, and each day that passed brought with it new challenges.

‘See, Mummy? I done it myself.’ Emily shrugged into her T-shirt and beamed at Sarah, bringing her out of her reverie.

‘So you have. Clever girl.’

After breakfast, Sarah gathered up her bag in readiness for the day ahead, and then started to look around for her notebook. Her brow furrowed. She was sure that she had put it somewhere safe, in a place where she would easily find it.

‘Have you lost something?’ Carol asked. Emily’s foster- mother was stacking crockery in the dishwasher, but now she stopped what she was doing in order to glance quizzically across the kitchen in Sarah’s direction.

‘My notepad,’ Sarah murmured. ‘I thought I had left it on the top of the sideboard, but it isn’t there.’

‘I saw you sliding it into your document wallet last night,’ Carol said. ‘You said that you had finished writing your pieces for the local newspaper and you would drop them in to the office today when you went into town to see the estate agent.’

‘Of course I did.’ Sarah slapped a hand to her forehead. ‘I thought it would be easier if I kept everything together.’ She sighed. ‘I should have written myself a memo and stuck it on the fridge.’

Carol smiled. ‘Not to worry. You’re getting there, little by little.’

Sarah’s mouth made a crooked slant. ‘At least it’s not just me having problems if the mishap over the key is anything to go by.’

‘That’s true. The estate agent must have had a momentary lapse.’ Carol hesitated, sending her a thoughtful glance. ‘So, are you still set on taking on the cottage?’

Sarah nodded. ‘It isn’t in the best of shape, but I don’t see that I have any choice. It’s about all that I can afford until my job prospects improve—my freelance writing is beginning to bring in a modest income, but it isn’t enough to provide a terrific standard of living. At least the effort I’ll have to put in to make the cottage into a home will be good therapy for me.’ She frowned. ‘I just hope that Social Services won’t decide that it’s not a fit place for Emily.’

‘I doubt they’ll object. After all, from the sound of it, there isn’t anything too untoward about the property, apart from some damp in the kitchen. Besides, having a doctor living next door might turn out to be an advantage.’

Sarah made a face. ‘I don’t think he’ll see it quite that way. The impression I had was that he would much prefer to be left to himself and, to be honest, that actually suits me right down to the ground. I need some space so that I can clear my head.’

‘Not too much space, I hope?’ Carol was frowning. ‘I know you want to take on more work, and that you’re determined to go it alone, but you have to think of Emily in all this. She’s been through a lot, with you being away in hospital for a time, and the last thing she needs is for you to suffer a relapse. That’s why you have to remember that I’m here for you, for both of you.’

Sarah clasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I will. Like I said, I’m not going to be far away, and we’ll be back to pester you on a regular basis.’

‘That will be fine by me.’ Carol’s face creased into a smile. ‘Did the neighbour say where it was that he worked? Perhaps he’s a GP, with a practice nearby. That would be handy for you and Emily, wouldn’t it?’

Sarah felt a rush of heat ripple through her at the mere thought. Ben Brinkley as her GP? Heaven forbid. Even now she could remember with startling clarity the feel of his long body brushing against hers as he had helped her. Her whole system had gone into overdrive.

‘I don’t think I would be in any hurry to sign up on his list,’ she said on a husky note. She could well imagine that her blood pressure would soar sky high just as soon as she stepped into any surgery run by him. ‘I’d much rather settle for a more genial, fatherly type.’ She frowned. ‘Anyway, he was at home in the middle of a weekday afternoon, so I doubt he’s in general practice. Maybe he works shifts at the local hospital.’

That would make living near to him easier to handle, from her point of view. After all, it meant that he would probably be working some weekends, and that would narrow down the risk of her running into him, wouldn’t it?

A short time later, after she had dropped Emily off at nursery school, Sarah drove into the local town. Parking her car, she walked across the cobbled square, and headed for the estate agent’s office.

‘I’m so sorry about the trouble you had,’ the young man said, getting up from behind his desk and coming towards her. ‘I must have put the wrong label on the key. It was lucky for you that the neighbour happened to be around yesterday when you visited the property.’

Sarah stared at him. ‘I remember ringing you to tell you about the mix-up,’ she said, ‘but how did you know about the neighbour? I don’t recall telling you about him.’

‘No…no, he rang me.’ His expression was something between apologetic and awkward. ‘I think he wanted to check that you were who you said you were. The property wasn’t meant to have been put on the market for another day or so and he wasn’t expecting anybody to be viewing it.’

Sarah winced. Dr Brinkley was certainly thorough in his way of getting to the bottom of things. He’d obviously had doubts about her version of events and somehow that didn’t seem to bode well for their forthcoming relationship as neighbours.

‘But the cottage is still up for rent, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, it is.’ His face brightened. ‘Are you interested in taking up the tenancy, then?’

‘I am. Do you have some papers for me to sign?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, yes…I’ll sort them out right away.’ Clearly, he was eager to finalise things before she had the opportunity to change her mind, and just a few minutes later Sarah left the office. In her bag, she had the correct set of keys, and all the necessary documentation for her new tenancy.

Was this the beginning of a new life? The thought was a little daunting, but at least she had made a start. Straightening her shoulders, she began to walk along the street, heading in the direction of the offices of the local newspaper.

‘Oh, no… Stop…stop… Slow down…’ A woman’s voice rang out, shrill with desperation, and she put up a hand as though to indicate that someone should stop. The woman was walking towards her, looking beyond Sarah to a point behind her. Sarah’s purposeful stride slowed to a halt and she glanced behind her to see what was happening.

A motorcyclist was slowing down, indicating that he wanted to turn right at a junction, and he had positioned himself in the centre of the road. All appeared to be well, except that in the background there was the aggressive, speeding drone of an oncoming car.

Sarah turned round fully to take a better look. On the brow of the hill, she saw that a driver of a black saloon was overtaking on a bend in the road, and he was heading straight for the motorcyclist. The woman who had been shouting was gesticulating now, miming a frantic warning, but Sarah was very much afraid that it had come too late.

At the last moment the man behind the wheel of the car seemed to realise what was about to happen. He wrenched the steering-wheel, swerving to the left as he tried to avoid the motorbike, but he was going too fast and it was clear to Sarah that his actions were too late.

She watched in horror as he hit the bike with the front wing of his car and then smashed into another driver who was innocently heading straight on in the left-hand lane of the road. The front of the black saloon crumpled like a concertina and the car that had been hit swung round violently.

Sarah ran towards the mangled cars and the bike, anxious to do what she could to help.

To her dismay, she saw that the motorcyclist was lying on his side, his leg trapped beneath the bulk of his motorcycle. He appeared to be unconscious, but after a swift check she discovered that his airway was clear and he was still breathing, albeit faintly.

Instinctively, she reached for her phone. ‘Emergency services—I need an ambulance,’ she said, her breath coming in short gasps as she realised the enormity of the situation.

‘Will you help me to lift the bike off him?’ Sarah flung the question at a man who had come to stare at the devastation all around.

‘Of course.’ Together they freed the young man from the weight of the vehicle that was trapping him, and Sarah knelt down to check him over more thoroughly.

The woman who had been shouting earlier appeared to be in a panic, flapping her arms wildly and running about as though she was unsure what to do next.

‘Do you think you could try to stop the oncoming traffic?’ Sarah suggested briefly. She could see that the biker had a thigh wound, with blood seeping through his jeans, and now she laid the heel of her hand on to his thigh and applied pressure. ‘Perhaps you could position yourself over the brow of the hill to stop anyone from coming any closer,’ she told the woman, ‘but make sure that you stay on the pavement.’

The woman nodded, and Sarah guessed she was glad to be able to do something useful. The man who had assisted her must have decided that was the best option, too, because he went with the woman, saying, ‘You take the near side to the brow of the hill, and I’ll go further along, to slow them down.’

Another man was already heading across the far side of the road to halt the traffic there.

Sarah took off her light cotton jacket and folded it up, making it into a tight wad. Then she whipped the leather belt from the waistband of her jeans and used it to strap the wad in place over the man’s thigh, close to the source of bleeding.

After that, she hurried over to the other two vehicles and she quickly checked the condition of the drivers. The man who had caused the accident was still sitting upright in the driver’s seat, looking dazed, and when she spoke to him he said in a thready voice, ‘What have I done? I didn’t realise…’

‘Don’t worry about that for the moment,’ Sarah said. It seemed that his air bag had failed to deploy fully, and his leg was trapped by crumpled metal. ‘Are you hurt? I’ve called for an ambulance. Is there anywhere in particular that’s causing you pain?’

‘My leg,’ he said, and then added in a shaky tone, ‘I’ll be all right. Will you go and see to the others?’

Sarah nodded. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t try to move.’

The driver of the other car was clutching his chest and his breathing was rapid and gasping. He was complaining of back pain, but his whole body was trembling, and Sarah guessed that he had gone into a state of shock. She stayed with him for a moment or two, trying to calm him and reassure him that he would receive medical attention soon.

It worried her that she had to leave the drivers, but her main concern had to be the young man who was lying in the road. He had been bleeding profusely from his leg wound, and she didn’t know whether her attempt to stem the flow would be sufficient. She went back to him and saw that the pressure pad she had put in place was soaked with blood. The only comfort she could take was that at least he was still breathing.

It was a relief, some time later, to hear the sound of the ambulance siren in the distance, and to know that help was on its way at last. She felt out of her depth, but she knew that these people needed to be taken to hospital at the earliest opportunity. She got to her feet.

The woman who had been stopping the traffic came to stand beside her. ‘The police have arrived,’ she said. ‘They’re setting up cones to keep the area clear.’

‘That’s good.’ The woman was much calmer now, and Sarah guessed that she would be able to give a good account to the police of what had happened.

She waited beside the motorcyclist as a paramedic walked towards him and knelt down. He tried to talk to him, but there was no response, and so he looked up at Sarah. ‘Do you know if he has been unconscious the whole time?’

‘Yes, he has.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘The two drivers were both conscious when I went to look at them. One seems to have a chest injury and is struggling to breathe, and the other is complaining of leg pain.’

‘Thanks. Perhaps you’d like to show my colleague the one with the chest pain.’ He nodded towards a second paramedic who was emerging from the ambulance.

Sarah did as he’d asked, and when she was satisfied that both drivers had been assessed and the man with chest pain was being attended to she went back to the driver who had caused the pile-up and tried to reassure him that help was on the way.

By this time a second ambulance had arrived, along with a fast-response car, and more emergency practitioners began to come forward.

Feeling a trifle redundant by now, Sarah went to see how the motorcyclist was doing. The paramedic she had spoken to earlier was working side by side with someone else now, a dark- haired man who was wearing the outfit of an emergency doctor.

Sarah looked him over. Something about this man caught her attention, but she couldn’t quite make up her mind what it was that was bothering her. He was kneeling down, but his demeanour was striking in that every move he made was decisive and self-assured. There was no hesitation, no doubting what needed to be done.

‘As soon as I’ve finished intubating him, we’ll splint that fractured limb,’ he said. ‘Once that’s done we can safely transfer him to the spinal board.’

Sarah felt the hairs prickle along the back of her neck. That voice was all too familiar, and she must have inadvertently let out a breathy sigh of recognition because the man shifted his head a fraction to look up at her. He frowned.

Sarah blinked. What was Ben doing here? Was this his job, working for the emergency services? Or was he based at the local hospital? The questions were on the tip of her tongue, but she stayed silent, because right now she didn’t want to distract him or in any way impede the work he was doing.