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‘She slipped and banged her head on the ice,’ he explains to Dr Janice Miller as he gently lays me on the examination table before her.
Her hands immediately circle my head, feeling her way around.
‘No swelling – good sign,’ she assures. ‘Are you dizzy?’
‘Not as much,’ I admit.
She gently rubs a cold gel into my scalp.
‘This is for the bruising. It’s just a bump. You were lucky. You could have done yourself some serious damage.’
‘Great,’ I whoosh, relieved. ‘Thank you, Doctor Miller.’
‘You’re very welcome, Emily.’
She slips off her gloves and grins at me, sliding Jago a glance. She is, I can tell, totally, utterly enamoured with him. What is it with women and Jago Moon? Although I’m not getting the impression that he reciprocates. Ah, the usual unrequited love has reared its ugly head once again. And I feel for her. Gosh, do I feel for her. Because I know what it’s like to be unable to hide the longing looks, to not be able to breathe naturally when he’s around. The object of your love, I mean. Not Jago, of course. He’s not the object of my love. Pftt! what a thought.
And she’s evidently still smarting from whatever had happened between them.
‘Jago was right to bring you in, though.’ And she looks at him again, blushing. ‘It’s good that you did that.’
But why is she saying it like he’s done some humongous act of bravery? Is he usually a heel?
Jago shrugs. ‘I didn’t want anyone on my conscience, least of all a city slicker who doesn’t know how to use her legs.’
My mouth falls open, but Dr Miller chuckles.
‘Still, you did well. Emily, you’ll be alright. Just stay put for a bit. No more dangerous walks, OK?’
‘OK, Dr Miller. Thanks again.’
At a closer look, she’s rather pretty, with shiny brown hair and an oval face. Not glamorous or fake, but a true, deep beauty based on good genes and a healthy lifestyle. And, I suspect, a good heart. You’d have to have a good – and a strong – heart to work as a GP with characters like Jago Moon, for starters.
‘I’ve got another patient in the other room. Jago, can I leave her in your capable hands to get her home?’
‘Yeah, sure, Doc.’
‘OK, then. I’ll come and check on you and your grandmother tomorrow at Heatherton Hall,’ she promises before she closes the door behind her with one last smile for me and another furtive glance at Jago.
‘Nice doctor,’ I comment as the door closes.
Jago shrugs. ‘Yeah, I guess. She’s always on my case.’
‘And why is that?’ I ask, trying to avoid the obvious.
We both know it’s about his drinking, but we elect not to go there.
‘Because people around here can’t mind their own bleddy business.’
‘Then if you’re so bothered about it, why don’t you get away?’ I suggest before I can stop myself. It’s not like it’s any of my business either, is it?
He thinks about it, his eyes lost somewhere between the past and the future, I can’t tell which. Does he want to escape the mysterious memories of his past, and is he afraid of a future elsewhere, where people might not be so willing to tolerate him? Do people know his secret? And has it got anything to do with my grandmother’s attitude towards him?
‘I just might,’ he answers, sliding me a glance. ‘Then again, maybe I won’t.’
And then silence falls. What does that mean, maybe he won’t? Why wouldn’t he?
‘Do you expect me to thank you for returning my scarf?’
