The Police Doctor's Discovery. Laura MacDonald
Читать онлайн книгу.
time ago.’
‘True.’ Nick nodded. ‘Even so, there are some things you never forget.’ He paused, took another mouthful of his own drink then set his glass down again and leaned back in his chair. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘about this relationship you are in now...the one you feel isn’t going anywhere.’
Rachel shrugged. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Well, for a start, who is the lucky man?’
‘His name is Jeremy Lisle,’ she replied reluctantly, ‘he’s a doctor.’
‘Ah, very appropriate.’
‘What do you mean?’ She stared at him.
‘For you,’ he said, ‘and for your parents, of course. I’m sure they approve.’
‘Well, yes, they like Jeremy...’
‘Now, why doesn’t that come as a surprise?’ Nick lifted his head and laughed. It was the same easygoing, infectious laugh she remembered so well and which for a long time had haunted her dreams. ‘I’m sure they see a doctor as far more suitable marriage material for their only daughter than a mere garage hand with a rather dodgy reputation to boot.’ He paused. ‘Although, from what you say, it doesn’t sound as if there are wedding bells in the air.’ When she didn’t reply he lowered his head, tilting it to one side in order to look into her face. ‘Rachel...?’
She took a deep breath. She didn’t really want to discuss Jeremy or her relationship with anyone, least of all Nick. ‘No,’ she said coolly, ‘I don’t think there will be any wedding bells, at least not in the foreseeable future.’
‘You said this morning that you felt the relationship wasn’t going anywhere.’
‘Did I?’ How she wished she hadn’t said that. She’d hoped he might have forgotten it but it seemed there was no chance of that. She shrugged. ‘Well, let’s say it had all become a bit static and when the chance of this job came up—’
‘You grabbed it?’ He raised innocent eyebrows.
‘Well, no, not quite like that, but I thought it might be an opportunity to get a better perspective on things...’ She trailed off as she saw his lips twitch.
‘You make it sound like a business arrangement,’ he said.
‘It’s not,’ she replied hotly, ‘of course it’s not!’
‘No, I’m sure it isn’t.’ He paused again reflectively then said, ‘And this guy, what did you say his name was—Julian?’
‘Jeremy.’
‘Oh, yes, Jeremy, that’s right. Well, what does he think of this perspective exercise?’
‘As it happens, he’s in full agreement with it,’ she replied.
‘Wouldn’t suit me.’ Nick folded his arms and shook his head.
‘No, Nick, I’m sure it wouldn’t.’ She paused then mercilessly she said, ‘So tell me about your wife.’
‘My wife?’ He looked up sharply. ‘I don’t have a wife.’
‘I know. You’re divorced now, you said, but you were married once. I understand she was the daughter of a friend of your mother.’
‘How in the world did you know that?’ He stared at her.
‘I heard it somewhere,’ she said vaguely, not wanting to tell him that it had been her own mother who had told her, relating the news to her with a decided note of relief and satisfaction in her voice. ‘Did I know her?’
‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘Her name is Marilyn—she was Marilyn Rooney.’
‘I remember the Rooney family,’ said Rachel slowly.
‘Yes, well, Marilyn and I went to the same school—Westhampstead High—a bit different from your posh boarding school for young ladies.’
‘Still taking the mickey?’ she said coolly. ‘You always did if I remember rightly.’
‘Not at all,’ he replied firmly. ‘It was quite something for me—a no-hoper from the wrong side of town to be going out with the local doctor’s daughter. My poor old mum never did quite get over it. She used to worry about the wedding—you didn’t know that, did you?’ He looked at Rachel and chuckled. ‘But she did—not that she need have worried in the end, the way things turned out. Marilyn’s and my wedding was a very low-key affair...registry office, then down the local for a bit of a knees-up.’
‘How is your mum, Nick?’ Desperately Rachel interrupted him, not wanting to hear these details of his marriage.
He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her while behind them someone began feeding coins into a fruit machine. ‘My mum died four years ago,’ he said at last.
‘Oh, Nick.’ Her hand flew to her mouth and she stared at him, instantly recalling the bustling little woman who had shown her nothing but kindness on many occasions. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘No,’ he said, and there was a touch of bitterness in his tone now. ‘I don’t suppose your parents thought to let you know that.’
‘I liked your mum,’ she said slowly. ‘I really did.’
‘She liked you as well,’ he said simply. ‘In spite of the fact that she was in total awe of your situation and background, she really liked you. She thought you were a lovely girl.’
‘Did she like Marilyn?’ Rachel leaned forward slightly and noticed that at mention of his ex-wife’s name Nick’s jaw tightened and a bleak expression came into his eyes.
‘I don’t know really.’ He gave a slight shrug. ‘I suppose she did. Maud Rooney was her friend so, yes, I dare say she liked her daughter—we never really discussed it.’
‘So what happened between you and Marilyn?’ she asked tentatively at last. From wanting to know nothing, for some reason she now suddenly needed to know more.
His expression changed yet again, his eyebrows drawing together in a black line, and just for a moment Rachel wished she hadn’t asked.
‘We weren’t suited,’ he muttered. ‘Incompatible is the word used, I believe. Marilyn wanted a stay-at-home guy with a nine-to-five job. Someone who would always be there in the evenings and at weekends—that sort of thing.’
‘And that wasn’t you?’
‘Not once I’d joined the police force it wasn’t—if it ever was. I don’t know.’ He shrugged and just for a moment Rachel witnessed something in his eyes that summed up the bleakness of his marriage.
‘So what made you join the police force?’ she asked in an attempt to draw the conversation away from Marilyn.
He didn’t speak immediately, instead toying with his glass as if deliberating on whether to answer her question or not. Then, his jaw tightening again, he said, ‘Actually, believe it or not, Rachel, it was a remark your mother made to your father that I happened to overhear that was the cause.’
‘Really?’ Rachel stared at him in astonishment.
‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘It was one evening when I called for you and I was waiting in the hallway of Ashton House. I don’t know whether they knew I was there or not—the housekeeper, Mrs Newton, had let me in. Anyway, I heard your mother say that I was a no-hoper who would never amount to anything—“a waster” was the expression she used, I think.’
Rachel stared at him. ‘Oh Nick,’ she said at last, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No,’ he said quickly, ‘don’t be sorry. It was the kick up the pants I needed. From that moment my mission in life was to prove her wrong.’
‘And you’ve done