Marrying the Runaway Bride

‘I shall. Thank you.’

Another smile and she made her escape. However, as she went back to the little girl’s bed, Heather felt a new lightness in her spirit. For the past few weeks she had done nothing but berate herself for the mess she’d made of things and it was a relief not to feel guilty for a change.

She sighed because it would be stupid to get carried away by Archie’s kindness. She had every reason to feel guilty when she had let so many people down. It hadn’t been only Ross who’d been affected by her decision not to go ahead with the wedding, but both their families as well. Her father in particular had been terribly distressed. He seemed to believe that he was to blame in some way, but that wasn’t true.

Matthew Thompson had done everything he could to make sure that Heather had been safe and happy since her mother had died so tragically after suffering a stroke. Heather had been fifteen at the time and she had been devastated by her mother’s death. Her father had been, too, but he had focused all his energy on helping Heather come to terms with her loss.

It had brought them even closer so that Heather had had no hesitation about taking a job in Dalverston after she’d finished her nursing degree. Her father had supported her for all those years and she’d wanted to be there for him, too. Ross’s mother had been a partner at the general practice her father had run for a number of years, and when Ross had completed his GP training, he had joined the practice as well.

It had been inevitable that she and Ross would end up spending time together and eventually they had drifted into a relationship. Both sets of parents had approved and Heather had taken it as a sign that they were meant to be together. It had only been as the wedding had drawn nearer that she’d started having doubts and even then she hadn’t acted on them until it had been almost too late.

She had caused a lot of hurt and unhappiness for the people who loved her, and now she had to make up for it by learning to stand on her own two feet. Moving to London could turn out to be a mistake but it would be up to her to deal with it. No matter how kind Archie Carew had been to her, she wouldn’t turn to him again for help.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS almost nine p.m. by the time Archie finally made it home and he was exhausted. Working fifteen hours straight was no joke, especially when it had been after midnight before he’d gone to bed the previous night. He went straight to the kitchen and raided the fridge. All he could find was a lump of slightly mouldy cheese and a tomato but it would have to do. He definitely wasn’t heading out again to find himself something else to eat.

He made cheese on toast, slicing the tomato on the top so that he could ease his conscience by telling himself he was eating at least one of the requisite portions of fruit and veg he was supposed to consume each day. He ate in the kitchen because the dining-room table was piled up with cartons. He had been planning to do some more packing that night, but after he had finished his supper, he couldn’t face it.

He made himself a cup of instant coffee and retired to the sitting room, glad that at least he had something to sit on. He had packed away all the ornaments and pictures so the room looked very bare but at least he had a seat. Slumping down on the sofa, he sipped his coffee, grimacing at the powdery aftertaste it left on his tongue. Although he was quite an accomplished cook, he never bothered cooking nowadays. There was no one to share a meal with and that took all the pleasure out of it.

The thought immediately reminded him of Stephanie and he sighed. He tried not to think about her too often but it wasn’t easy. Before the accident his future had been all mapped out, and mapped out the way he had always dreamed it would be, too. He’d had a job he’d loved and a woman he’d wanted to spend his life with. He had been perfectly happy with his lot until his world had fallen apart.

Archie stood up, too restless to sit there while the thoughts ran like rats around his brain. Going over to the bureau, he opened a drawer and took out an old chocolate box. He had been meaning to sort through it for weeks but each time he’d put off doing it because it had been too painful. However, he was already upset so he may as well get it over with now.

He sat down and emptied the contents of the box onto the cushion beside him. There were dozens of photographs along with other mementoes of his life with Stephanie. He picked up a programme for the ballet, smiling ruefully as he recalled how angry Stephanie had been when he had fallen asleep during the performance. Next came a single ticket for the opera—he’d had to miss the show when he’d been called into work. Then there was an out-of-date train ticket for an aborted trip by Eurostar to Paris—Stephanie had gone by herself in the end as he’d been too busy.

Archie frowned as he continued to delve through the remnants of their life together. There’d been an awful lot of occasions when he had let Stephanie down. Work had always been his number one priority and everything else had come a poor second, including Stephanie. Was it any wonder, really, that she’d sought solace with someone else?

He picked up another photograph, feeling pain tug at his heart as he studied the smiling faces of the people in it. It had been taken a couple of years ago when he, Stephanie and his brother, Duncan, had spent some time together at the family estate in Scotland. Stephanie had stayed on when he’d had to return to London and he’d thought nothing of it at the time.

Now he couldn’t help wondering if that had been when his fiancée had fallen in love with his brother, after he had abandoned her for the umpteenth time. It was one more reason to feel guilty, another reason why he needed to make amends for what he had done. If he had paid more attention to what had been going on around him, Stephanie and Duncan might not have died.

It was gone four in the morning when Charlie Maguire suffered a second heart attack. Heather grabbed the crash trolley and raced to his bed. Marion had already started CPR and she looked up when Heather appeared.

‘Plug that in then phone the switchboard and ask them to page Mike. We need him back here, stat!’

‘Will do.’

Heather flew to the phone and dialled the switchboard. ‘It’s Heather from Paeds,’ she said as soon as the operator answered. ‘Can you page Dr Mike Bridges, please? We need him here urgently.’

She hung up after the operator confirmed her request. Some of the other children had woken up now, disturbed by all the commotion, so she made her way around the ward, doing her best to settle them down. Marion and the other nurse on duty that night, Abby Connor, were working on Charlie, but it was a relief when the registrar arrived. He headed straight to the boy’s bed, looking very grim when Marion explained what had happened.

‘We’ll shock him and see if that works. I’ll need some adrenaline—can someone sort that out for me, please?’

‘I’ll do it,’ Heather offered immediately.

Mike told her the dosage while Marion gave her the keys to the drugs trolley. When she got back, the team had defibrillated Charlie’s heart once and were about to perform the procedure a second time because there was still no output. Heather found herself willing the child to respond as the paddles were once again placed on his chest.

‘Clear!’ Mike rapped out.

Everyone held their breath as another charge of electricity shot through the boy’s body, but there was still nothing on the monitor apart from a flat green line. Mike turned to her and she could see the worry on his face as he took the drugs from her.

‘Get onto Archie. Tell him what’s happened and that it’s not looking good.’

‘Of course,’ Heather agreed, hiding her surprise because in her experience it wasn’t usual to phone a consultant during the night.

She hurried to the phone again and found Archie’s number listed with all the others. She keyed it in and waited anxiously for him to pick up. If anyone could help Charlie, it was Archie—he would know what to do in any crisis.

She bit her lip because she really shouldn’t be thinking along such lines. It would be only too easy to see Archie as her saviour as well and that wouldn’t do. She cleared her throat when a sleepy male voice mumbled hello.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mr Carew, but Mike Bridges asked me to phone you. Charlie Maguire has had a second myocardial infarction and we’re having problems stabilising him.’

‘How long ago did it happen?’ he demanded, instantly alert. Heather had a quick mental flash of him dragging himself up out of bed and just as quickly dismissed it. She couldn’t afford to get sidetracked.

‘Roughly five minutes.’

‘Right. I’m on my way. Tell Dr Bridges to continue CPR until I get there.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Heather replied, responding automatically to the authority in his voice.

‘Thank you, Heather,’ he said quietly before the line went dead.

Heather’s hand was trembling as she gently replaced the receiver on its rest. Although she hadn’t introduced herself, Archie must have recognised her voice and it gave her a funny feeling inside to realise that. As she went to relay his message to the others, Heather found herself smiling before she realised how stupid she was being to set any store by it. Archie was only going to feature in her life for as long she worked here. He certainly wasn’t going to play any part in her future.

‘Is everyone agreed, then?’

Archie looked at the group assembled around Charlie Maguire’s bed and saw the same expressions on their faces that must have been on his own. Despite all their efforts, they’d been unable to resuscitate the boy and his death had upset them all.

‘Time of death 5:13,’ he said when they all nodded. ‘Thank you for everything you did. I’m only sorry it didn’t work out in the end.’

He pushed the curtain aside, feeling despondency weighing down on him as he made his way to the office. Losing a child was always a heartbreaking experience but it had become even more difficult since Duncan and Stephanie had died. It was hard to accept that so many lives should be cut short far too soon.

Heather was in the office; she looked up when he went in and he saw her expression change when he shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her voice catching, and Archie had to swallow when he felt a lump come to his throat. He could tell that she’d truly meant what she’d said and that it hadn’t been just a polite expression of regret. It touched him deeply, far more deeply than it should have done, in fact.

‘We all are,’ he said shortly, because breaking down wasn’t an option. ‘Have the parents arrived yet?’

‘Yes. They’re in the relatives’ room.’ She was all business once more and Archie was suddenly sorry that he had been so short with her.

‘Right. I’ll have a word with them, then.’ He turned to the door, stopped, walked another step, then swung round. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to snap at you, but it always hits me hard whenever we lose a child.’

He gave her a tight smile, wondering why he felt that he had to explain himself. He wouldn’t have done so under normal circumstances, yet for some reason he didn’t want Heather to get the wrong idea. ‘I can’t afford to get too emotional when I need to speak to Charlie’s family.’

‘I understand.’ Her eyes filled with compassion as she looked at him. ‘I don’t think it’s possible to do this job unless you care, but it’s hard, isn’t it, when something like this happens? It makes you remember the people you have lost, too.’

‘It does,’ he said quietly, then left before he was tempted to say anything else. It seemed his suspicions had been correct. However, he knew that asking Heather whom she had lost would be a mistake at the moment. It would only lead to him telling her about Duncan and he didn’t think he could cope with that right now.

He made his way to the relatives’ room and spoke to the boy’s parents. It was every bit as bad as he had expected and he was emotionally wrung out after he finished. He made sure the parents knew that they could sit with Charlie for as long as they wanted to, then asked Marion to escort them to a side room. Charlie would be taken there from the ward so the family could have some privacy. Sorting out such details was all part and parcel of his job, but it was so much more than mere routine and he would never be able to treat it as such. Mind you, he wouldn’t have to after he returned to Scotland. Maybe that was the plus side of giving up his job?