Heatherdale's Shy Nurse. Abigail Gordon
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she could find a name and address for the injured rider.
Then returned to her recently purchased yurt, where she rang the hospital that the young man had been flown to.
On being put through to A and E, she explained to a nurse at the other end of the line that she had been present when the accident had taken place, and was informed that the patient had regained consciousness and was in Theatre, having fractures and other injuries dealt with by Mr Callum Warrender from the Heatherdale Children’s Hospital, who had travelled with him in the helicopter.
That the young man was being treated and by the best was all that really mattered. There were going to be parents somewhere who would be most thankful that someone like Callum Warrender had appeared out of the blue at the scene of the crash.
The fact that there had also been a highly qualified nurse there as well had paled into insignificance beside his presence, she reflected wryly.
Of course, she’d heard a lot about Dr Warrender from her colleagues, like how talented a surgeon he was, but she’d never once pictured in her mind what he would be like. To find that she actually liked the look of him was unsettling, but those moments on the road to the moors would stay in her memory for time to come.
His skin was tanned, his hair dark and he had hazel eyes in a face that had purpose and integrity etched upon it. His physique spoke of strength and stamina and, as with his tan, suggested a rugged way of life. There was no denying he was very good looking yet she hadn’t heard any mention of a wife in Callum Warrender’s life.
* * *
Callum travelled back from Manchester by train. He was tired, and looked forward to grabbing a quick bite to eat at the hotel near his apartment. But first he planned to call in at the community centre to let Leonie know how the patient was progressing.
He was aware that he’d been less than civil out there on the road to the moors and felt an apology was required. The reason for his manner was easy enough for him to understand, but a stranger wasn’t going to know how much he cherished time to himself out in the countryside around Heatherdale.
To his surprise he had enjoyed working alongside her to save their patient’s life. He also needed to find her to thank her for her excellent and level-headed assistance.
A disco was in full swing when he got there, but there was no sign of the woman he’d come in search of, and when he asked of the middle-aged disc jockey in charge where she might be found he said, ‘Leonie has gone home to the yurt. She’s had a stressful day from the sound of it. Do you want me to give her a message?’
Callum shook his head. ‘No, I need to speak to her personally. Where is it that you say she’s gone?’
‘She lives on the yurtery on the far side of the river.’
‘You mean she lives in a tent?’
‘Er, yes, I suppose you could say that,’ was the reply. ‘Hers is the third one from the entrance to the site.’ And with a frown he went on to say, ‘I’m not sure if I should be telling you this. I don’t know who you are, do I?’
‘We were both involved in treating an injured motorcyclist up on the road to the moors earlier on today and I’ve come to report on his condition, that’s all. I’m one of the doctors from Heatherdale Hospital,’ he explained, and off he went without further delay as hunger pangs were beginning to make themselves felt.
He’d noticed the development of the latest idea in camping at the other side of the river while he’d been having his breakfast that morning. It was known by some as ‘glamping’. A reference to the attractions of a yurt as against the basics of a tent. He was curious to know how they worked as permanent dwellings.
So when Leonie opened the door of the round, glass-roofed construction to him a short time later his glance went immediately to the décor behind her and he saw that the latest ‘must have’ for those who wanted something small and cheerful to live in was attractively furnished and quite a lot bigger than it had appeared from the outside. Also it made his solidly expensive furnishings in the apartment seem dull and boring by comparison.
But he wasn’t there out of curiosity and was not even sure if he’d got the right place, as the woman observing him anxiously didn’t look like the woman of those moments on the hillside. Gone were the woolly hat and shapeless jacket.
She was wearing a pale blue dress with matching sandals, had thick and curling chestnut hair that framed her face damply from recent washing, and was observing him in a way that told him he hadn’t come to the wrong place after all.
‘Come in,’ she invited, and as she stepped back to let him pass asked anxiously, ‘So how is our patient now?’
Callum was still in his walking clothes and before he could reply she followed one question with another.
‘Have you only just got back?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I operated on him myself, and the news is that he is in Intensive Care at the moment but may be put on to one of the wards in the morning.’
‘How serious are his injuries?’ she continued.
‘Serious enough, but he’ll recover,’ he told her. ‘What about your group? Did you get them safely back to base?’
‘Er, yes, no casualties amongst them, I’m pleased to say.’
Leonie was conscious that he was mellower now than he’d been out there on the way to the moors. She’d hardly expected him to seek her out in person to report on the motorcyclist, so why was he here, standing before her awkwardly and making stilted comments?
‘I’ve come to apologise for my abruptness when I came upon you and your group at the scene of what was a nasty accident. My excuse, such as it is, may sound trivial, but I was looking forward to some time on my own in the wide-open spaces after six months of hard grind in the States.
‘The thought of having two days to myself before going back to work on Monday morning seemed like precious gold in my busy working life. It isn’t often that I get my priorities wrong, but maybe I did this morning, and I’m sorry.’
‘When you appeared I felt that you were heaven-sent but could hardly be described as angelic.’
He laughed. ‘That is fair comment. I’m known more as a tartar than an angel in my working life.’ In reality work was the only life he had these days since his catastrophe of a marriage. ‘So, do you accept my apology?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied.
‘So what about the bike? Did you have time to call in at the garage to have it collected?’
‘They’re picking the bike up but won’t be sending you the bill. I’ve paid it.’
He frowned. ‘That is not what I asked of you.’
‘Maybe, but that is what I’ve done as I felt that I was partly to blame for not insisting that my group walk in single file. It was because they were all over the road that the young guy on the bike lost control.’
‘Even so,’ he protested.
‘Please don’t make an issue of it,’ she told him steadily. ‘I did what I felt was right and don’t want to discuss it any further.’
‘All right, so be it,’ he agreed. ‘Have you eaten since you got back?’
‘I haven’t yet,’ she replied cautiously.
‘I was planning to eat at the restaurant at the hotel by the river in a while. If you won’t let me pay for the removal of the motorcycle, can I take you for a meal to make up for it?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ she told him, imagining the gossip that would spring up at the hospital if word got out she’d been seen dining with her boss.
‘A friend of mine who works full time at the community centre should have taken the kids on the walk today, but I had to take