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Lucy smiled gently. ‘Dr Whittaker, you have been unbelievably kind to me since we met. I was a total stranger to you but you gave me a part-time job when you needed a full-time nurse, and you let me have a flat rent-free—’
‘You’re doing us a favour, living in it during the winter. There are no tourists at this time of year,’ Richard reminded her, ‘so it’s sitting empty.’
Lucy fiddled with the material of her uniform. ‘What I mean is that you’ve been extraordinarily generous. You don’t need to feed me as well.’
He frowned. ‘But you do cook for yourself in the evening?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said quickly, wondering if cereal and toast counted as cooking. It didn’t matter. She owed the Whittakers so much already, she certainly didn’t intend to impose on their kindness any more than she had to.
Richard looked at her regretfully. ‘Well, if you change your mind, you only have to ask. By the way, I wanted to remind you that my younger son is arriving today. I did mention that he would be joining the practice?’
‘Several times.’ Relieved that he’d changed the subject, Lucy hooked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and hid a smile. Richard’s pride in his youngest son was obvious to all. ‘I can’t believe all three of your sons are doctors.’
‘And they’ve all descended on my practice!’ Richard pulled a sorrowful face but Lucy knew that it was just for show. The Whittakers were closer than any family she’d ever met, and even in the brief time that she’d worked for them she’d seen that having a family practice worked well. Michael and Nick, the two sons she’d been working with for the past month, were both skilled doctors and clearly respected each other. There was none of the rivalry and pettiness that was reputed to taint other practices.
‘So when does your youngest son start officially?’
‘As soon as he sets foot inside the door,’ Richard said dryly. ‘We’re rushed off our feet, as you know. He’s arriving just in time for the flu season. Anyway, I’ll introduce you as soon as he arrives because he’ll be doing quite a few of the clinics with you. What are you doing at lunchtime? Are you around?’
Lucy hesitated, not sure whether to confess or not. ‘Actually, I’m going to see Ivy Williams,’ she said finally, honesty prevailing, as always. ‘I’m really worried about her. I saw her last week to dress her leg and she was very quiet. People keep telling me that since Bert died a month ago she’s barely left the house.’
That was the advantage of a small community, she reflected. There was always someone who was going to notice that you were in trouble.
‘Ivy?’ Richard’s face softened but his eyes were concerned. ‘That’s kind of you, but don’t get too involved, Lucy. You can’t solve everyone’s problems.’
‘I know that,’ Lucy said, her green eyes gentle and kind. ‘But she’s lost her partner and she must be so lost and lonely…’
And she knew only too well how that felt.
‘Well, let me know how she is,’ Richard said, walking towards the door and giving her a smile. ‘You’re a kind girl, Lucy, and we’re lucky to have you.’
But nowhere near as lucky as she was to have them.
Lucy watched Richard go and then grabbed her coat and made her way across the car park, noticing with relief that someone had sprinkled grit on the surface. Just as well, she reflected, shivering as the cold air numbed her cheeks and fingers, otherwise all their patients would be slipping and sliding and breaking bones before they reached the surgery.
Even for early January it was bitterly cold, and she blew on her hands to warm them and forced her mind back to her work.
What was she going to do about Ivy? She was truly worried about her, rattling around in that big house on her own.
The problem nagged her brain as she drove carefully along the coast road, and she was still thinking about it when she heard a hideous squeal of tyres followed by a sickening crash.
What…?
Instinctively she pumped her brake pedal, slowing her car gradually as she approached the bend in the road.
There’d been an accident.
She rounded the corner, her heart racing as she braced herself for what she might see.
Her fingers tightened on the wheel and she started to shake as she saw the twisted wreckage of a car embedded in a tree. And then she saw the motorbike.
‘Oh, no…’
Her heart thumping uncontrollably, she pulled her car over onto the grass verge, put on her hazard warning lights and sprinted across to the wreckage. The fr
ont of the car was badly mangled, and next to it lay a pile of twisted metal that had once been a motorbike. She was shaking with reaction as she looked frantically for the rider.
Where was he?
