Falling for her Mediterranean Boss. Anne Fraser
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my mother a couple of years ago and my father a few months after.’ She still missed them both terribly. ‘When did it happen?’ she asked gently.
‘Just after Christmas,’ Caroline said softly.
Only a few weeks ago, then. Julie knew how raw her grief would still be.
‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’
‘I’m an only child,’ Caroline responded.
Just like me, then, Julie thought, already feeling herself drawn to the young woman. It seemed they had a lot in common.
‘It’s why Uncle Pierre has come to stay,’ Caroline continued after a pause. ‘He lives in France. He’s French, like my father is…was.’ Her breath was ragged as she corrected herself. ‘I told Pierre I was old enough to live by myself, but he wouldn’t have it. Said it was impossible.’ She pouted. ‘He hardly knows me and now he is here bossing me about—interfering in my life.’
‘But no one should be alone after such a terrible loss. I’m sure he just wants to help.’
‘He never bothered with us before. Dad was always asking him to come and visit, but he was always too busy. Eventually my parents went to visit him. And now they’re dead. If they hadn’t gone—if he had come to see them instead like he should have—they’d still be all right. He is so unbelievably selfish.’
Julie was taken aback by the anger in Caroline’s voice. But then she remembered how after her accident, when she’d felt she had been robbed of everything she’d thought mattered, she too had been angry, pushing away everyone, even her parents. And when a few years later her parents had died, she had thought she could never feel happy again. She too had been angry with the world at first. It had seemed so unfair.
‘How old are you?’
‘Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a couple of months.’
Julie was surprised. Made up as Caroline was, she could have easily passed for twenty—older even.
‘And you were out at the club by yourself?’
‘Pierre didn’t want me to go on my own. But he just doesn’t understand…’ She tailed off and looked out the window.
‘Go on,’ Julie prompted gently.
‘My friends would have come with me. They’re always asking me to go out with them. But even though they mean well, I get tired of their sympathy. They’re always asking how I am. Am I okay? How am I doing? But they just don’t get it—that all I want to do is forget. Just for a little while. Is that so awful?’
‘No,’ Julie said softly. ‘It’s not awful at all. Sometimes we all need to forget about stuff that hurts us.’
‘I slipped away when his back was turned.’ Caroline admitted. ‘I left him a note telling him where I was and not to worry about me. But he came after me anyway. So embarrassing to be treated like a kid.’
Julie hid a smile. She was having no difficulty imaging the friction between the two. In many ways Caroline reminded her of herself as a teenager.
‘But he was sort of right, wasn’t he? Look what occurred back there. You could have been hurt. I’m sure he would never have forgiven himself if anything happened to you.’ Julie shivered, remembering. ‘I was terrified. Weren’t you?’
‘When the worst thing possible has already happened to you, there’s not much that frightens you,’ Caroline said softly, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, and Julie’s heart went out to her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she continued, regaining her composure. ‘I don’t usually go on like this. I think I must be more shaken than I thought. Anyway, I’m completely fine now, and that’s what matters. I would have taken a taxi home perfectly easily, so he’s fussing over nothing.’
Julie knew there was little point in pursuing the conversation. It was between Caroline and her uncle. The two women sat in silence for a few moments.
Caroline looked at Julie curiously.
‘What happened to your face?’ she said.
As usual, whenever someone reminded her of her scar, Julie’s hand went to her cheek. Sometimes, not often, she managed to forget.
‘Skiing accident,’ she said, ‘when I was about your age.’
‘You should ask Uncle Pierre to fix you,’ Caroline said, and this time Julie heard the note of pride that had crept into her voice.
Fix me? Julie thought. She didn’t think anyone could fix her.
‘He’s a famous surgeon in France, you know,’ Caroline added.
‘So I gather,’ Julie said dryly. ‘However, I’m used to my face the way it is.’
But as she said the words she knew she was lying. She hated the scar.
They pulled up outside the address Caroline had given her. The house was an impressive detached sandstone building with a driveway large enough to hold several cars. Caroline showed her how to operate the gate from a button on the keyring, the gates swung open and Julie drew up beside the front door.
Caroline eased herself out of the car.
‘Thank you for bringing me home,’ she said politely.
‘Will you be all right on your own?’ Julie asked, unsure what to do. Should she go in with the girl? Wait for Pierre to return home? ‘Would you like me to come in? I could wait with you until your uncle gets back.’
Caroline shook her head with a disdainful lift of her brow.
‘There is no need. Please, you did what you said you’d do. I’ll be perfectly fine.’ Then her features softened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude when you’ve been so kind. And I didn’t mean to offload on you like that. I think it was the fright.’
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Julie said. ‘I understand. Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?’
Caroline shook her head again. ‘I’m going to go straight to bed.’ Julie knew she could hardly force her way into the house. So after a brief goodnight, and watching until Caroline was safely inside, she turned the car in the direction of the hospital. She was wide awake and knew sleep would be impossible, so she did what she always did when sleep eluded her—she went in search of work.
A and E was bustling with activity. A number of the clubgoers were being treated with minor injuries or for the effects of smoke inhalation. Julie found her friend Kim, one of the A and E nurses, gulping a cup of coffee at the nurses’ station.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Julie asked.
‘Good grief, woman, do you tune into the police radio or what? How come you always seem to know when we have a rush on? Don’t you have a life?’ Kim stifled a yawn. She was always scolding Julie for working too hard, telling her she should get out more. Julie just ignored her friend’s good-natured cajoling. It was her life, not Kim’s, and she would live it the way she wanted to.
‘I was at the club,’ Julie said. ‘Yes, really. And dancing!’ She ignored her friend’s look of feigned astonishment. ‘I’m looking for one of the victims. The DJ. He was pretty badly burnt. Dr Favatier brought him in.’
‘Ah, the divine Dr Favatier,’ Kim sighed, rinsing her mug at the sink. ‘I’d heard about him from some of the other nurses—and they weren’t exaggerating. He is hot!’ She gave herself a little shake, then grinned at Julie. ‘But what am I thinking? And me a happily married woman and all.’ Her expression turned serious. ‘Your DJ—his name’s Tom Blackheath—is still in Resus. It’s been chaos in here the last few hours—since even before the fire. This is the first chance I’ve had to draw breath.’ She set her mug on the counter. ‘Let’s go find out how your injured DJ is.’
Tom