Innocent Secret

Even then, she couldn’t stop the little leap of pleasure when he walked her out to her car or the way he watched her driving away. It certainly satisfied that hungry place inside her that wanted nothing more than that he should…

That he should what?

Notice her? See past the end of his nose? Realise that she was the woman he’d been waiting for?

‘Right!’ she scoffed aloud. ‘He’s barely done more than wish you a polite good morning in the last six months and suddenly, on the strength of a roadside rescue and a home-cooked meal he’s going to take another look at you? Get a life!’

Vicky was still muttering under her breath when she swung her front door open, juggling an armful of uniform brought home for washing and a bag of groceries that had developed a rapidly growing split in one side.

The first thing she saw in the darkness as she reached out for the light switch was the winking red indicator on her answering machine.

It was so rarely used that she was almost excited by the event, dropping her burden just inside the door to press the replay button. Because all her friends knew where she worked, they were far more likely to ring her at the hospital. In fact, very few of them knew her home number as the new directory hadn’t been updated since she’d moved into her little cottage and had the phone connected.

The little indicator told her she had two messages, but when the first played through without a word being spoken, a shiver of dread skated up her spine.

She reached out to stop the machine but it had already clicked to the second message and an awful fascination froze her in her tracks as she heard the same voice break the silence of her cosy home.

‘Victoria.’

It was the same voice. That same hateful singsong. But this time it was worse. This time it wasn’t a call to the hospital where anyone could contact her. This time, whoever it was had discovered her private number and it felt almost as if they’d actually invaded the cottage.

Vicky was still staring at the baleful red eye when the phone rang, the sudden sound startling her into a shriek.

It rang again and for the first time in her life she was actually afraid to answer it. It was almost a relief when the machine switched on to answer it for her, but she cringed when the silence began to stretch out without a word being spoken.

She was convinced that it was her tormentor again but Joe’s deep voice broke the fraught silence.

‘Vicky, it’s Joe. Joe Faraday. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely. Give me a call when—’

‘Oh, Joe, thank goodness it’s you,’ she gasped when she’d managed to grab the handset and put it to her ear. Her hand had been trembling so much she’d nearly dropped the thing.

‘Vicky? Are you all right?’ The concern was so clear in his voice that it actually helped her to gain a little control.

‘There were two messages when I got back…on my answering machine,’ she blurted disjointedly.

‘Not bad news, I hope. Who was it? Jack? Nick? The hospital?’

‘It was him, Joe,’ she said, the eerie way the man had pronounced her name echoing inside her head.

‘Him? You mean the voice on the phone at the hospital? How did he get your home number?’

‘Why don’t you ask me some questions I can answer for a change,’ she said as a hint of hysteria crept into her voice. ‘I don’t know how he got it. All I know is that there were two messages. One silent one and the other one…’ She shuddered.

‘Just your name, again, or something more this time?’ he prompted quietly, his voice deep and steady, something to cling to in the midst of her panic.

‘Just my name,’ she confirmed, ‘but why is he doing this, Joe? It was bad enough when he was phoning me at work, but this…’

She drew in a shaky breath as she dragged trembling fingers through her hair. She’d left the blonde length loose to tumble over her shoulders this evening, hoping that Joe would notice. That had been a complete waste of time, and now seemed totally irrelevant in the face of what had been happening at home in her absence.

‘Joe, what if…’ The sudden thought was terrifying. ‘What if he knows where I live? Can he find out my address now that he knows my phone number?’

‘I honestly don’t know, Vicky,’ he admitted. ‘As for the calls, if it was just a matter of changing your phone number, it would be relatively easy. The fact that he’s being a nuisance at work isn’t quite so easy, especially as so many calls come through automatic exchanges. If it was the old-fashioned telephone operator we’d have some sort of control.’

The way he’d slipped into saying ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ hadn’t escaped her. It was strange how much comfort she could draw from something so simple.

‘As for knowing where you live…’ Joe’s voice drew her back to the unpleasant speculation. ‘In a place as small as Edenthwaite, he wouldn’t have to ask very many people before he found someone who could give him directions.’

‘This is one of those times when it’s definitely a disadvantage to have been born locally,’ she complained. ‘All too often I have patients coming in who insist on telling me in great detail about something that happened in my childhood, or even my parents’ childhood.’

‘That’s one of the penalties of being in such a “public” profession. Everyone knows about the local doctors and their families.’

‘And they’re only too happy to gossip when we get ourselves into mischief,’ Vicky agreed.

‘They must have had plenty of practice with Jack around, or did he do most of his roistering after he went away to train?’

The conversation continued for several minutes before Vicky caught sight of the time.

‘Oh, Joe, I’m sorry. I’ve kept you up and you’ve got to be at the surgery early tomorrow.’ She couldn’t be sorry about the time they’d spent together, even if it had been at opposite ends of the telephone.

‘I’m hardly so old and decrepit that I’ll fall apart if I miss an hour’s sleep,’ he objected. ‘Anyway, I don’t mind. It’s worth it to hear you sounding more relaxed. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

It sounded almost like a promise and Vicky’s heart was feeling immeasurably lighter when she finally put the phone down.

It wasn’t that she needed a man in her life to validate it. She had grown strong and self-reliant in the years that she’d pined hopelessly after Nick, concentrating on her career and making her own way in the world.

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t appreciate the fact that Joe was concerned for her safety. As he’d suggested, she made a point of checking around the cottage to make sure that all bolts and locks were fastened securely.

‘Tomorrow, I’ll change my number,’ she muttered decisively. ‘And I’ll make some enquiries about the new laws about stalking.’

Part of her didn’t want to believe that it was really happening. That same part was trying to tell her that by simply changing her number she would put whoever-it-was off, and she’d never hear from him again.

Unfortunately, the more rational half knew that this was unlikely. The calls had started several days ago and had already escalated from silent calls at the hospital to a verbal one at her home. It might only be one word, just her name, but there was something about the tone of the man’s voice that made her feel uneasy.

Remembered scraps from a programme she’d glimpsed on television told her that many stalkers were satisfied just to observe. It was the ones whose observations grew into a need to make contact and from thence into total obsession that had her listening for noises outside her cottage.

It was a good job she’d already eaten her meal. The nervous cramping of her stomach would have left her with little appetite now. The trouble was, with nothing urgent to do and a busy day ahead, the only logical thing was to go to bed.

A leisurely bath was out of the question. She would feel far too vulnerable to relax. Even climbing into bed and pulling the covers right up to her nose didn’t make her feel totally safe, no matter that the cottage was securely locked.

It was only when she remembered Joe’s final words—a promise that all she needed to do was phone him and he would come to her—that she was able to unwind enough to fall asleep.

CHAPTER THREE

‘ANY more phone calls?’ Joe asked later on the next afternoon.

The sound of his deep voice set Vicky’s heart beating in an erratic rhythm. She had to concentrate to make sense of the words, especially when she was looking up into those gorgeous eyes. They seemed more green than brown today and filled with the concern she usually only saw focused on his patients.

He couldn’t have known that she’d just put the kettle on for a much-needed break, but Vicky was delighted with his timing. This way, if she was lucky, she might have a chance to talk to him without interruptions.

‘There might have been two,’ she said as she poured milk into both mugs and topped them up with tea. ‘But I’d had a quiet word with a couple of members of staff at the beginning of my shift. I asked them to offer to take a message from any male callers and to say that I would get back to them.’

‘Clever!’ he said with an admiring smile. ‘So it looks as if you’ve spiked his guns.’

‘I hope so.’ She opted to lean back against the edge of the sink rather than join him at the tiny table. As it was, she was all too aware of the scent of the fresh Cumbrian air that clung to his skin and his clothes, even from the other side of the room.

‘I also contacted the telephone company this morning,’ she went on, determined to keep her mind off the way his dark hair had been tousled by the breeze. He must have walked around the building to reach her department rather than braving the interminable corridors and stairs.

‘I explained what’s been going on and I didn’t even have to ask them to change the number. Apparently, the new anti-stalking guidelines mean they’ll organise it as soon as they’re notified that there’s a problem. I’ve decided that until the number’s been changed I’m going to leave it off the hook when I’m home, and I’ve switched the answering machine off completely so there won’t be any nasty surprises on it.’

‘Won’t that be a problem for you, not having a message facility? I’m sure there must be a spare mobile you could have in the interim.’

‘It shouldn’t be necessary. It’s not as if I’m on call, like GPs and midwives,’ she said dismissively, hoping she was managing to hide how much his concern mattered to her. She really shouldn’t let herself believe that it had any relevance—after all, much as she would like it to be, it wasn’t any more than his usual concern for his patients.

‘Even so,’ he said firmly as he leant round her to rinse out his cup, ‘I don’t like the thought that you might end up stranded somewhere at the mercy of some nutcase. If you call in on your way home, I’ll make sure that there’s one left for you at the reception desk.’

Joe’s proximity must have temporarily disabled her brain because she hadn’t even thought of objecting to his bossiness until he’d left the room, and by then it was too late. Anyway, the thought that he was determined to take his concern to practical lengths was oddly pleasant.

‘Contrary female. If Jack had tried that on, you’d have shoved women’s lib up his nose until he begged for mercy,’ she muttered under her breath as she rinsed her own cup and prepared to return to the ward. There were visitors due shortly and she needed to make sure everything was ready for the day’s heaviest influx.

At least she had a full complement of staff this shift, even if they were up to a maximum head count on patient numbers. The fact that they still hadn’t managed to transfer any of the high-dependency cases back across to Geriatric was something they were just having to make the best of.

Owen, their fifty-eight-year-old Down’s syndrome patient with a broken leg, wasn’t even waiting until he’d been fitted with a walking cast. He had been causing chaos, seeming to spend most of his time trying to work out how to disconnect all the pulleys to release the traction on his leg.

Vicky had been at her wits’ end until she’d realised that the attraction was the television at the other end of the ward.

With all the equipment surrounding his bed, moving him closer to the set wasn’t an option. In the end Vicky had contacted Marc Fletcher to ask him to pull some of his hospital manager’s strings.

The result had been the appearance of a small portable television complete with a remote control which would probably need to be replaced by the time Owen left.

‘Sister, I don’t know how we can ever thank you enough,’ his carers said when they’d witnessed the transformation in their charge. ‘It’ll be worth buying him his own television to see him this happy. Mind you, I don’t know how his neighbour puts up with having the channels changed every few minutes.’

Vicky had reassured them that it wasn’t a problem, but she didn’t tell them that the constant changes wouldn’t make much difference to Owen’s neighbour as he was profoundly deaf and far preferred to read his book.

‘Hey, Vicky, how are you doing?’ her brother asked, his arrival just in time for a cup of tea unlikely to be an accident.

‘I’m fine. And you?’ She busied herself with a second mug to stop herself groaning aloud. Ever since her marriage to Nick had been called off, Jack had been turning up at intervals to check up on her. Did he think she was suddenly going to collapse into floods of tears?

The fact that she had cried, but all over Joe’s shoulder, was no one’s business but theirs. Anyway, the tears hadn’t been about the fact that Nick was marrying someone else. She’d already explained, several times, that the decision to call a halt had been a mutual one. If Jack couldn’t accept it, that was his problem.

He was frowning a little as he inspected her face, almost as if he was trying to read her mind, but in the end had to give up the attempt. Vicky could only hope that she’d finally learned not to wear her heart on her sleeve. The whole world seemed to have known about her teenage crush on Nick. She was going to be much more careful in the future.

‘Have you heard about this?’ Jack asked as he unrolled the brightly coloured flyer he’d brought with him. ‘One of the patients, a farmer, brought some copies into the GP surgery today and asked if we could put them up around the hospital.’

“‘Easter Barn Dance”,’ Vicky read aloud, smiling at the pictures of dancing rabbits and little yellow chicks all sporting cowboy hats and clothing. ‘What’s that about?’

‘It’s a fundraiser-cum-social. Everything’s been organised locally—food, music, entertainment. It’s in aid of the farmers who were particularly badly hit by the foot-and-mouth epidemic last year. Apparently, they’ve had their compensation from the Government for the slaughter of their animals, but some of the smaller concerns are living from hand to mouth until they can get their farms properly stocked and running again.’

‘What’s involved in this barn dance, then?’ It didn’t really matter. Vicky would probably go purely because it was for a good cause but it would be nice to know what to expect.

‘According to my patient there’ll be a group doing an exhibition of line dancing, which they then undertake to teach the rest of us. The rest of the evening is more like the country dancing we used to have to do in junior school when it was too wet to play outside.’

Vicky checked the date. ‘That’s this weekend. They’re not giving people much chance to get the word around.’

‘I think they’re seeing this as a bit of a trial run. If it goes well, they’ll run several of them. We might even borrow a leaf out of their book later on when it comes to a fundraiser for the hospital.’

While he was speaking Vicky had been checking the duty roster and found that she was going to be free that evening. This could be just the thing to show the world that she wasn’t sitting at home, moping about Nick’s apparent defection.

‘Who are you going to be taking?’ she asked. ‘I presume this is a couples thing.’

‘You know me,’ he said with a grin. ‘I don’t like to plan anything too far in advance, especially something like a date. You never know what might have happened to the relationship in the meantime.’

‘Relationship?’ Vicky hooted. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever kept a girlfriend longer than a couple of days and I don’t call that a relationship.’

‘Are you any better?’ he retorted, startling Vicky with the sudden edge to his voice. ‘You eat your heart out for a dozen or more years, and when the guy finally asks you to marry him you back out at the last minute.’

There was something in the unexpected sharpness that made her wonder if her Jack-the-lad brother might not have sailed through his life quite as smoothly as she’d always believed. Was there something hidden in his past that had made him wary of even the most elementary level of commitment? Had she been too wrapped up in her own concerns to notice?

‘Well, if neither of us has a ready partner, perhaps we should go together,’ she suggested, shelving her intriguing thoughts for later.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.