Doctor's Orders (3 page)

Isabel's heart sank. Surely he hadn't complained just because she hadn't handed him the laryngoscope quickly enough! “Why?” she asked, anxiety showing through in her voice.

Sister Clarke smiled at Isabel's expression. She was a kindly looking, middle-aged woman. “Don't look so worried,” she said. “Dr Blakeney stopped by to say how pleased he was with his new assistant. Quite unusual,” she continued, raising her eyebrows, “he usually only speaks to me when he has something to complain about!”

Chapter Two

As she walked slowly back to her small hospital room, which was located at the top of the residence block in the hospital grounds, Isabel reflected on Sister Clarke's unexpected information. If Sister had been surprised that Dr Blakeney had said he was pleased, she couldn't have been nearly as surprised as Isabel herself. He had given no sign or indication that he was pleased with her work, if anything his behaviour had been symptomatic of quite the reverse! She supposed she ought to have felt pleased, but her tiredness, and an overwhelming feeling of depression, didn't lift one iota.

What did it matter what he thought of her? If life in theatre when Dr Blakeney was working there—and he was there three whole days a week—was going to consist permanently of curt snapped commands and no rapport at all, what he thought of her work was of little importance!

As she pushed open the door of her room, nostalgia swept over her, and she wished with all her heart she was back in the familiar surroundings of her hospital in Edinburgh. There, she had lived in a large room in an old house; here the room was small and modern, although she had to admit that it had a lovely view, looking away from the hospital towards the forest and the sea. But even the lovely view didn't help Isabel's black mood. In fact it only served to make her feel even more depressed and restless. She felt in limbo. Perhaps she
had
been foolish to rush so precipitously down from Edinburgh, where all her friends were. Here she knew no one except Sally and Susie Wee, and she knew from the conversation at lunch time that they both had dates that evening.

It was early summer, and the sun shone down invitingly on the green lawns and trees outside. No point in sitting around feeling sorry for myself, thought Isabel resolutely. So, slamming the door of her room shut behind her, she went out just as she was, in her jeans and teeshirt, her cardigan tied casually around her slim waist. The evening was just right for a good long walk. Yes, that was it, she would walk her blues away.

The evening sun filtered through the leaves of the trees, casting dappled shadows on her dark hair as she walked down the long tree-lined road that led away from the hospital. Isabel looked around curiously; this was the town she had chosen to be her new home, although she mentally winced at the word “home'. She had no home. Her parents were both dead, and she had been brought up by her grandmother, now also dead. She thought of the three graves in the overgrown little churchyard, filled with lichen-clad headstones, the ever present wind sweeping across the hillside where the little village clung tenaciously. It was just outside Edinburgh, and since her grandmother's funeral, she had never been back. She had felt that all her links with the village had been severed with the death of her grandmother. There was nothing to go back for, although she always sent money regularly to the church, for the grass to be cut and fresh flowers to be placed on the graves.

It was just after her grandmother's funeral, when she had been feeling so lonely, that she had met Hugh Sinclair and had fallen headlong in love with the handsome young anaesthetist. He had arrived with the reputation of being a womaniser and a heartbreaker, but he had assured Isabel that she was the one and only girl for him. At first she had been and they had become engaged. However, she didn't remain his one and only girl for long. Even during their engagement Isabel had known he was having affairs with other girls, a fact which she always pushed to the back of her mind. He had always come back to her, and she had always welcomed him with open arms because she loved him. At least she thought that she had, but for some strange reason she had always held back from giving herself to him completely. She had never been able to explain why, not even to herself, and certainly not to Hugh. When the final break came it was a fact he had taunted her with.

“You are frigid,” he had told her, “you are the only woman who has not responded to my sexual charms!”

Even then, when he had been mocking and cruel, and her heart had been breaking, Isabel had maintained a dignified silence. But in her heart she was glad she had resisted, although only she knew how hard it had been sometimes. At least she had her pride intact she told herself, she hadn't been just another scalp for him to hang on his belt. She was the one conquest who had managed to get away relatively unscathed!

All these thoughts milled chaotically around in her mind as she walked, but strangely she found she was thinking of Hugh Sinclair without the stab of pain it had always given her previously. Perhaps it's because I'm so far south, she thought with a faint smile, his presence can't reach me here! Although she was slightly disconcerted to find that instead of Hugh Sinclair's face floating before her mind's eye, it was that of another man, another anaesthetist, Dr Mike Blakeney!

Grinning to herself, she strode along; at least Mike Blakeney wasn't a breaker of women's hearts, quite the opposite in fact, a misogynist. He, so she had been told, hardly ever looked at a woman, and idly she found herself wondering about the woman who had apparently broken his heart.

It was an intriguing story, not the least because Mike Blakeney didn't look the type of man who could have his heart broken by anyone. Probably only hospital gossip, she concluded, he's just the naturally bad-tempered type! A self-centred man, who thinks of nothing beyond the confines of his anaesthetic machine and the operating theatre. She had met doctors like that before, they thought that nothing existed outside medicine!

She had been walking briskly along, without any particular destination in mind, when she saw the pretty, thatched pub at the end of the road. It seemed like a good idea to treat herself to a drink before the long walk back to the hospital. After buying a glass of wine and a packet of crisps at the bar, Isabel wandered out into the garden at the rear of the building.

The garden wasn't crowded, just a few people and children out there. Trellis work, smothered with climbing roses, provided screens that gave sections of the garden privacy. The lawn, surrounded by the heavily perfumed roses, sloped down to a small river, and Isabel decided to sit in peace, by the smoothly flowing water, to have her drink.

As she stepped through a bower of roses, she suddenly became aware of the lonely looking figure of a man sitting on the left of the garden. It was the fact that he was alone, when everyone else was either in family groups or in couples, that made her look. But it was not just that. It was the way he was sitting. Shoulders hunched, a tankard of beer held between his hands, his head down, staring at nothing in particular. As she glanced at the figure a second time, she suddenly saw it was Mike Blakeney. Not the tall, self-assured, cool and efficient Mike Blakeney she had seen all day in theatre, but a tired, lonely-looking man, somehow touchingly vulnerable. But she restrained her natural impulse to go over and join him, suspecting that he would not welcome her intrusion on his obviously far from happy thoughts.

I've taken enough rebuffs for one day, thought Isabel, and made her way cautiously down on the right-hand side of the garden so that he shouldn't see her. Although she doubted that he would have noticed her, even if she had walked right underneath his very nose!

Isabel settled herself comfortably on a rustic wooden bench, right by the edge of the water, and in no time at all she was joined by a mother duck with her brood of six fluffy ducklings all anxious to help her eat her potato crisps. Isabel crumbled up the crisps for the little ducklings, who soon lost their timidness and scrambled up from the river, slipping in their haste on the muddy bank, so that they could scurry round her feet, pecking at every little crumb they could find.

“You look as if you've made some friends,” a deep voice said beside her.

Even as she looked up, Isabel knew it was Mike Blakeney, although the tone of his voice was quite different from the one he used in theatre.

“May I?” he indicated the space on the seat beside her.

“Er…yes, please do,” faltered Isabel at a loss for words, and more than a little surprised that he had chosen to come over.

“I saw you sitting alone, and thought you might like some company,” he said by way of explanation.

“Thank you, but I don't mind being alone,” said Isabel politely, “I'm quite used to it.” That wasn't strictly true of course, not long ago she had been wishing she had been with her friends in Edinburgh. But the very last thing she wanted, was for Dr Mike Blakeney to come and sit with her out of pity!

“Oh!” He sounded faintly put out, although the expression in his dark grey eyes gave nothing away. “If you would prefer me to leave, then of course I will.”

“No, I didn't mean…oh dear, I'm afraid I sounded rather rude,” said Isabel hastily. “What I meant was, if you'd prefer to be alone, please don't feel you have to sit with me, don't feel sorry for me just because I'm alone.”

“I didn't feel sorry for you,” came the enigmatic reply, “how could I? You are surrounded by a horde of admiring ducks!”

Isabel laughed, and looked down at the ducklings scrabbling about at her feet. “Yes,” she agreed, “but I'm afraid they will turn out to be fickle admirers. As soon as the crisps are finished they will swim away to somebody else who has something to give them.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, “a bit like women.”

Isabel turned to him with a frown, “it isn't only women who are fickle,” she snapped.

He looked at her curiously, raising his eyebrows, “The voice of experience?” he quizzed. Isabel ignored him as he continued, “No, you're right, it was an unjust remark.”

Abruptly Isabel turned her head away, away from his inquisitive gaze, afraid that her remark might betray the true reason she had come to the south of England to work. Self-consciously she concentrated on feeding the baby ducklings, gently remonstrating with the mother duck, who seemed to have no maternal instinct whatsoever when it came to food, greedily snatching the crumbs away from her own babies.

Mike Blakeney reached into the pocket of his jacket. “Here,” he said, “take these. I bought them when I first came in and had forgotten all about them. You can keep your admirers for a little longer.” He held out a packet of crisps.

Isabel took them from him, looking at him guardedly from beneath her long dark lashes. He, in turn, scrutinised her coolly, and to her dismay she felt herself colouring inexplicably beneath his searching gaze. Quickly she turned away again, and went back to feeding the ducks.

“Do you come here often?” she asked casually. It was the only thing she could think of to say, but even as she uttered the words she felt ridiculous.

To her annoyance he laughed, “In films, it's the man who usually says that! You know, in the boy meets girl situation!”

“We're not in a film, this is real life,” retorted Isabel, slightly frostily. She was going to point out that it was hardly a “boy meets girl situation” either, but he interrupted her before she could continue.

“Yes,” he said slowly, almost as if he was speaking his thoughts out loud. “This is real life, and in real life you never know how things are going to turn out.”

“Life would be a terrible bore if it was always predictable,” said Isabel, her Scottish practicality coming to the fore. “That's what makes life exciting, you never know what is going to happen.”

“That's a very philosophical outlook to have,” he said quietly.

Isabel laughed, “Yes, isn't it,” she agreed. “But I have to confess that I've only just thought of it!” She laughed infectiously, thinking how stupidly downhearted she had been herself earlier in the evening. By nature she was an impulsive, happy girl, it was just that her unhappy love affair with Hugh Sinclair had temporarily knocked the stuffing out of her. Already, sitting there with a man she had only just met that morning, and who she didn't even particularly like, she was surprised to find that she felt much better.

It certainly wasn't because of the charming company of Mike Blakeney, because although he was a little more friendly, he didn't seem much happier than he had done all day. No, she decided, it was because she was somewhere different, it was a lovely summer's evening, and she was in a beautiful place. And it was quite true, she didn't know who she was going to meet, or what course her life was going to take, and suddenly it
did
seem exciting.

She turned and smiled impulsively at Mike Blakeney, “I don't know what unhappy ghosts are haunting your thoughts,” she said, “but my advice is to bury them, and start looking around you. There's a whole world waiting to be discovered.”

He raised his dark eyebrows sardonically, “Quite a little psychologist aren't you,” he remarked, “you'll be prescribing something for me before you know it!”

Isabel flushed angrily at his sarcastic tone of voice, “It was meant as a friendly remark,” she said abruptly, and turned back to the ducks, who were clamouring for more crisps. She felt annoyed, and regretted her friendly impulse.

“I know that,” he said quickly. “Sorry I bit off your head.” Isabel ignored him and continued to feed the ducks. “Anyway,” he continued, “what made you think I had any unhappy ghosts to lay? What have they been saying about me at the hospital?”

“Nothing,” lied Isabel. “I just thought you looked rather miserable, that's all. I noticed you when I came in.”

“I see,” he said slowly, “but you didn't do the decent thing and come over to cheer me up!”

Isabel glanced at him quickly. Was he teasing her? His voice had a faintly bantering tone to it, but she wasn't sure. Anyway, in her usual customary fashion, she answered honestly. “After putting up with your bad temper all day in theatre, I didn't particularly want to endure it during the evening as well,” she said firmly.

A great roar of laughter echoed round the garden, as he threw back his head and laughed. For a moment Isabel was taken aback, by his laughter and by the way his whole face changed. She was stunned to see how attractive he looked when he laughed, his grey eyes sparkled, and his even white teeth gleamed against the rugged tan of his skin. In fact, he looked astoundingly attractive, and her heart gave an uncomfortable little lurch in her breast. Almost irritably, she very firmly and quickly suppressed it.