Role Play. Caroline Anderson
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‘I know. I’ll do what I can, but she’s better off playing the piano than working herself up into a steaming tantrum over it until she collapses with exhaustion.’
‘Does she do that?’ Abbie asked, amazed that the calm, almost monochromatic child they had just witnessed could throw a tantrum.
Mrs Clarke rolled her eyes. ‘Does she ever! You’ve seen her, haven’t you, Dr Chandler?’
‘Oh, yes — it’s spectacular. She’s only calm when she’s getting her own way, but she’s as stubborn as a mule. Any attempt to coerce her and she flips. Still, you manage her very well.’
The mother shrugged. ‘I don’t really. We achieve a sort of peace by letting her do things her way. Anything else is cataclysmic! It took some time to learn how to deal with her, and years after that before I could undo the harm I’d done with hugs and cuddles and abortive attempts at discipline.’
Leo nodded. ‘The school seems to have helped.’
‘Yes — me as much as her. It gives me a break from her but the holidays are just as difficult as ever.’
Leo laid a large, comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. ‘You’re doing a grand job — don’t lose heart.’
The mother gave them a weary smile. ‘Thank you. It helps to hear it.’
As they drove away, Abbie turned to Leo and shook her head. ‘How does she cope?’
‘How does anyone cope? There but for fortune and all that.’
‘Why didn’t you take a blood sample to check for mononucleosis?’
He shot her a grin. ‘Because Maxie doesn’t like needles, and when Maxie doesn’t like something she says so — loudly! Anyway, there’s no point. Whatever she’s got, a few weeks of taking it easy will knock it on the head, and if it doesn’t we can deal with it then. Now, we’re going to see the rest of my patients, and on the way back to the surgery we’re going to pick up some lunch and eat it by the river.’
‘Um — do you need me with you?’
He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling wickedly. ‘Well, now — there’s need, and there’s need. What’s the problem?’
She gave a tiny snort of disbelief. ‘Apart from you? I have things I ought to be doing — I’ve got an antenatal clinic this afternoon and I wanted to go through the notes, and then there are prescriptions I should be signing and letters to write and ——’
‘I’ve done your prescriptions and I’m doing your antenatal clinic this afternoon, so you’ll have plenty of time to sit down with Peggy and do the letters. Anything else?’
‘Yes,’ she said, furiously embarrassed. ‘I need the loo.’
He chuckled. ‘Trust a woman. Why didn’t you go ——?’
‘Don’t! Don’t say it! Don’t say a word!’ she exploded. ‘How was I to know you planned a day-long expedition? Anyway, you didn’t give me time!’
‘It’s all that coffee you had for breakfast when you should have been on your way to work,’ he teased.
‘I didn’t have time,’ she repeated tightly.
‘You amaze me.’ He shot her a wink. ‘Can you hang on ten minutes? Our next call is in the hospice.’
She subsided huffily. ‘I should think so.’
‘I hope so — don’t want my upholstery ruined.’
She glared at him. ‘I think you’re a few years too late to worry about that!’
He tutted gently. ‘I don’t know — why are you so determined to insult my car? Anybody would think you didn’t like me.’
She glared at him again. ‘Anybody would be right,’ she muttered.
Without warning he swung the car off the road and screeched to a halt in a lay-by. Abbie was flung forward and grabbed the dashboard automatically, her heart pounding.
‘Sorry — the brakes snatch a bit.’
Slowly she released her death-grip on the dashboard and sagged back against the seat. ‘Do you always drive like that?’ she asked him weakly.
He chuckled softly under his breath. ‘Only when I’m trying to impress a woman.’
‘I’m impressed,’ she groaned. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘Because you’re telling lies.’
She frowned at him in puzzlement. ‘Lies?’
‘You said you didn’t like me.’
She laughed shortly. ‘God, that’s some ego you’ve got.’
His smile was slow and lazy. ‘Abbie, Abbie — don’t beat around the bush. You like me — even though you might not want to. and you want me — even though you think it’s a lousy idea. I do, too, but ——’ His shrug was Gallic and very expressive.
She blushed. ‘Dream on,’ she muttered.
‘Oh, Abigail. You’re lovely — but then you know that, don’t you?’ His fingers sifted through her hair, fanning it out against her shoulders. ‘Beautiful — like sunlight trapped in autumn leaves. It feels wonderful …’ He let it fall from his fingers and sat back with a sigh. ‘What’s the matter, Abbie? Am I too direct for you? Should I pretend for the sake of convention? Perhaps for the first few days — a fortnight, maybe? Or wait even longer, until you’ll believe me if I say I love you, so your conscience is satisfied as well as your body?’
She drew herself away from him, so that the last strand of her hair fell from his fingers, as if breaking the contact would defuse the tension that zinged between them.
He was right, of course. She did like him, and want him, and she did, indeed, think it was a lousy idea. Furthermore, acting on her feelings was the very last thing she intended to do, and she told him so.
‘Why?’ he asked softly, and his fingers invaded her hair again, sifting the strands with sensuous slowness.
Her heartbeat grew heavier, so that she could feel the blood pulsing through her body, bringing it alive. She pulled away again.
‘Are you always so damned unsubtle?’
‘Unsubtle?’ He smiled. ‘I’m wounded. I thought I was being very understanding.’
She glowered at him. ‘I don’t know you!’
‘There’s time.’
‘A year. That’s all. I’m here for a year.’
He shrugged. ‘That’s OK. I can handle a long-term relationship.’
‘Long-term?’ she exclaimed. ‘I meant only a year!’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Damn it, Abbie, I’m not proposing. All I’m suggesting is that we spend some time together — a mutual scratching of itches.’
‘I don’t do that sort of thing,’ she replied tightly, ‘and certainly not with egotistical doctors!’
‘No? You should. You might enjoy it.’
‘I doubt it.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘What a waste. Oh, well, if you change your mind, I’m here. We’d better get to the hospice.’
For the rest of the short drive Abbie sat scrunched up at her side of the car, hardly daring to breathe in case he made some suggestive remark, and wondering all the time how he could possibly have qualified as a doctor when his morals were so clearly askew.
Then she saw him in action at the hospice, and all her preconceptions about him were eroded at a stroke.