The Police Doctor's Discovery

‘No, I’m sure it isn’t.’ He paused again reflectively then said, ‘And this guy, what did you say his name was—Julian?’

‘Jeremy.’

‘Oh, yes, Jeremy, that’s right. Well, what does he think of this perspective exercise?’

‘As it happens, he’s in full agreement with it,’ she replied.

‘Wouldn’t suit me.’ Nick folded his arms and shook his head.

‘No, Nick, I’m sure it wouldn’t.’ She paused then mercilessly she said, ‘So tell me about your wife.’

‘My wife?’ He looked up sharply. ‘I don’t have a wife.’

‘I know. You’re divorced now, you said, but you were married once. I understand she was the daughter of a friend of your mother.’

‘How in the world did you know that?’ He stared at her.

‘I heard it somewhere,’ she said vaguely, not wanting to tell him that it had been her own mother who had told her, relating the news to her with a decided note of relief and satisfaction in her voice. ‘Did I know her?’

‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘Her name is Marilyn—she was Marilyn Rooney.’

‘I remember the Rooney family,’ said Rachel slowly.

‘Yes, well, Marilyn and I went to the same school—Westhampstead High—a bit different from your posh boarding school for young ladies.’

‘Still taking the mickey?’ she said coolly. ‘You always did if I remember rightly.’

‘Not at all,’ he replied firmly. ‘It was quite something for me—a no-hoper from the wrong side of town to be going out with the local doctor’s daughter. My poor old mum never did quite get over it. She used to worry about the wedding—you didn’t know that, did you?’ He looked at Rachel and chuckled. ‘But she did—not that she need have worried in the end, the way things turned out. Marilyn’s and my wedding was a very low-key affair...registry office, then down the local for a bit of a knees-up.’

‘How is your mum, Nick?’ Desperately Rachel interrupted him, not wanting to hear these details of his marriage.

He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her while behind them someone began feeding coins into a fruit machine. ‘My mum died four years ago,’ he said at last.

‘Oh, Nick.’ Her hand flew to her mouth and she stared at him, instantly recalling the bustling little woman who had shown her nothing but kindness on many occasions. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘No,’ he said, and there was a touch of bitterness in his tone now. ‘I don’t suppose your parents thought to let you know that.’

‘I liked your mum,’ she said slowly. ‘I really did.’

‘She liked you as well,’ he said simply. ‘In spite of the fact that she was in total awe of your situation and background, she really liked you. She thought you were a lovely girl.’

‘Did she like Marilyn?’ Rachel leaned forward slightly and noticed that at mention of his ex-wife’s name Nick’s jaw tightened and a bleak expression came into his eyes.

‘I don’t know really.’ He gave a slight shrug. ‘I suppose she did. Maud Rooney was her friend so, yes, I dare say she liked her daughter—we never really discussed it.’

‘So what happened between you and Marilyn?’ she asked tentatively at last. From wanting to know nothing, for some reason she now suddenly needed to know more.

His expression changed yet again, his eyebrows drawing together in a black line, and just for a moment Rachel wished she hadn’t asked.

‘We weren’t suited,’ he muttered. ‘Incompatible is the word used, I believe. Marilyn wanted a stay-at-home guy with a nine-to-five job. Someone who would always be there in the evenings and at weekends—that sort of thing.’

‘And that wasn’t you?’

‘Not once I’d joined the police force it wasn’t—if it ever was. I don’t know.’ He shrugged and just for a moment Rachel witnessed something in his eyes that summed up the bleakness of his marriage.

‘So what made you join the police force?’ she asked in an attempt to draw the conversation away from Marilyn.

He didn’t speak immediately, instead toying with his glass as if deliberating on whether to answer her question or not. Then, his jaw tightening again, he said, ‘Actually, believe it or not, Rachel, it was a remark your mother made to your father that I happened to overhear that was the cause.’

‘Really?’ Rachel stared at him in astonishment.

‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘It was one evening when I called for you and I was waiting in the hallway of Ashton House. I don’t know whether they knew I was there or not—the housekeeper, Mrs Newton, had let me in. Anyway, I heard your mother say that I was a no-hoper who would never amount to anything—“a waster” was the expression she used, I think.’

Rachel stared at him. ‘Oh Nick,’ she said at last, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No,’ he said quickly, ‘don’t be sorry. It was the kick up the pants I needed. From that moment my mission in life was to prove her wrong.’

‘And you’ve done just that,’ she said softly. ‘Look at you—there can’t be too many DCIs of your age.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know about that.’

‘It was a shame your marriage had to suffer as a consequence though.’

‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I wonder if it would have worked even if I wasn’t in the force—Marilyn and I were like chalk and cheese really.’

‘But you have a daughter?’ she said gently.

‘Oh, yes.’ His expression softened at mention of his daughter. ‘I have Lucy. She was the reason Marilyn and I married in the first place. She’s the light of my life. You’ll meet her.’

‘I hope I shall but, Nick, I really do need to go now.’ She glanced at her watch as she spoke then drained her glass and stood up.

‘Yes,’ he said, doing likewise. ‘I suppose I’d better get back as well and see if our friend is ready to cooperate.’ He stood aside to allow Rachel to pass him but as she did so he caught her hand. Startled, she looked at him, unable to read the expression that had come into his eyes. ‘It really is good to see you again, Rachel,’ he said softly.

‘And you, Nick.’ Her voice was suddenly husky and as he applied a quick pressure to her hand, her skin tingled—just as it had always done at his touch.

* * *

It had shaken Rachel, seeing Nick again after all these years, and in spite of the fact that she had made up her mind from the outset that theirs was to be a purely professional relationship, she knew it might not be as easy as she had at first thought.

To her dismay she found herself looking for him in the town, when she was shopping or out on house calls, and when she was on call she found herself willing the phone to ring to say that her services were required at police headquarters. When one such call did come, it was late on a Saturday night and she was called to attend a victim of a street brawl who had collapsed. To her shame, on receiving the call, her adrenalin level soared at the thought of seeing Nick again and she reached police headquarters in record time, only to find that Nick wasn’t involved, probably wasn’t even there, and that the uniformed staff were in charge.

After that she tried to get a grip on herself and put him out of her mind. After all, what they had once been to each other had been a very long time ago and no doubt in the intervening years they had both become different people. It didn’t stop her remembering, though, and sometimes as she drove around town memories of that distant time came back in disturbing waves: the rides on Nick’s motorbike late at night; the old cinema—a snooker hall now—where they had always sat in the back row; the café in the high street—a building society had its offices there now—where they had congregated with other bikers to play rock music on the jukebox and drink endless cups of coffee. And then, of course, there was the park where they’d walked late at night, arms around each other, and where invariably they ended up on the mossy ground beneath the trees and had loved each other passionately under the stars.

As each new memory was rekindled a fresh surge of emotion was released, leaving Rachel in a strange, highly strung state not at all like her usual calm and collected self.

One evening just as she had finished surgery Danielle buzzed through to say there was a call for her.

‘Put them through,’ she replied automatically, and before she even had time to wonder who it might be she heard a voice at the other end, a voice she instantly recognised. ‘Georgie?’ she cried in delight.