Children's Doctor, Meant-to-be Wife

Had this thought communicated itself to Angus that he suddenly stood up, pulled out another chair, and told Beth to sit?

In a very headmasterly voice!

But her knees were becoming so unreliable, what with the lack of sleep last night and the strain of seeing—and talking to—Angus again, that she obeyed without question.

At least now she could hide her hands in her lap and he wouldn’t see them shaking.

Angus sat down again, pushed his nearly finished grapefruit half away and turned his attention to Beth. Most of his attention, that was. Part of it was focussed on pushing back memories and totally unnecessary observations like how tired she looked and the fact that she always looked smaller when she was tired, and she’d lost weight as well, he was willing to bet, and why, after three years, did his hands still want to touch her, to feel the silky softness of her skin, to peel her clothes off and—?

‘Start with why you’re here,’ he began, hoping practicalities would help him regain control, not only of the situation but of his mind and body. ‘Not here in this room right now, but on this island—connected to this medical centre.’

‘I work there. I’m the permanent doctor at the centre. I saw the job advertised and thought it would be wonderful, just what I needed, something different.’

Far too much information! Admittedly she was flustered—wasn’t he?—but…

He shuffled through his mental miscellaneous file—the Crocodile Creek Kids’ Camp was for children with ongoing health problems or disabilities. Had she chosen to work in a place where she’d be seeing these children because of Bobby?

Of course that would be a factor, though it went deeper than that. On a resort island people—especially these kids—came and went. She wouldn’t have to become too involved with any of them, and if she wasn’t involved she wouldn’t get hurt—Beth’s self-protective instincts coming into full play—the same self-protective instincts that had made her adamant about not having another child…

Although maybe he’d suggested that too early—too soon after Bobby’s death…

‘Angus?’

The woman’s voice—not Beth’s, Sally’s—made him wonder if he’d lingered too long in his thoughts. He was usually better than this—quick on the uptake, fast in decision-making, focussed…

He turned to his companion—tall, elegant, beautiful, clever Sally. She was relatively new on his staff, but they’d been dating occasionally and he’d suggested she attend the conference with him thinking…

He glanced towards Beth, weirdly ashamed at what he’d been thinking then furious with himself for the momentary guilt.

‘Sorry, Sally, this is Beth, my ex-wife.’

‘I’ll leave you to catch up,’ Sally said, in a voice that suggested any chance of them getting to know each other better over the weekend had faded fast.

But though he knew she wanted him to tell her to stay—to touch her on the arm as he said it—he made no move to stop her as she stood up with her coffee and raisin toast and moved through the room to another table on the far side, where other conference attendees were enjoying a far noisier breakfast.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset anyone,’ Beth said. ‘I’ll explain quickly, then you can explain to…Sally? I’m sure she’ll understand.’

The words made no sense at all to Angus, who failed to see why Beth should be concerned about Sally. Although Beth did have a habit of being concerned about everyone—even in little ways. He’d remembered that, with a twinge of regret, as he’d wrestled with his grapefruit.

‘There’s a bug going around on our side of the island that presents with flu-like symptoms but three of the children, Jack and Robbie from the kids’ camp and Lily, Charles Wetherby’s ward, are quite seriously sick, very high temperatures that we’re having trouble controlling with drugs, and on top of that are the birds. There are dead birds, shearwaters I think they’re called, all around the island.’

She glanced around and added, ‘Probably not here—the groundspeople would clear them away—but over on our side. Lily picked one up and gave it to Charles, thinking he could cure it. We’ve vulnerable children in the camp, Angus, and although no one’s saying anything, I’m sure in their heads they’re whispering it might be bird flu.’

Her wide-set blue eyes looked pleadingly into his, asking the question she hadn’t put into words.

Would he help?

As if she needed to ask—to plead! He felt a stab of annoyance at her, then remembered that Beth, who’d had so little, would never take anything for granted. And certainly not where he was concerned. Hadn’t he accepted her decision that they should divorce and walked away without another word, burying himself in work, using his ability to focus totally on the problems it presented to blot out the pain, only realising later—too late—that he should have stayed, have argued, have—

But that was in the past and right now she needed help.

‘Do you have transport?’

‘Electric cart parked out the back.’

‘Then let’s go.’

He stood up and reached out to take her hand to help her stand—an automatic action until he saw her flinch away as if his touch might burn her. Pain he thought he’d conquered long ago washed through him.

How had they come to this, he and Beth?

CHAPTER TWO

SKIN prickling with awareness of Angus by her side, Beth led the way back to the cart, then sighed with relief when she saw Garf.

He could sit between them, they could talk about the dog and she wouldn’t have to think of things to say.

‘Good grief, what’s that?’

Beth had to smile. Garf looked more like a tall sheep or a curly goat than a dog.

‘That’s Garf, he loves a ride. Move over, dog!’

Garf had sat up and yapped a welcoming hello. He was now regarding Angus with interest.

Was this a man who knew the exact place to scratch behind a dog’s ear?

‘He’s a labradoodle, a non-allergenic kind of dog,’ Beth replied. ‘The kids love him and when they’re all up and about he’s usually with them. His other great love is riding in carts and it’s impossible to tell him he’s not wanted—he just leaps in.’

To her surprise, Angus and Garf took to each other like old friends, although Angus was firm about not wanting a thirty-odd-kilo dog sitting on his knee.

‘He likes to hang his head out,’ Beth explained apologetically, but Angus had already worked that, easing the dog to the outside of the seat and sliding across so his body was pressed against Beth’s.

‘I could make him run back—it’s not far,’ she said, thoroughly unnerved by the closeness.

‘No, he’s fine,’ Angus said, so airily, she realised with regret, that he wasn’t feeling any of the physical upheaval that was plucking at her nerves and raising goose-bumps on her skin. He might just as well have been sitting next to a statue.

A statue that kept thinking about a blonde called Sally.

‘I’m sorry I interrupted your breakfast,’ Beth said, and although she knew it was none of her business, she plunged on. ‘You and Sally? You’re a couple? That’s good. I’m glad. I’m—’

‘If you say I’m happy for you I’ll probably get out and walk back to the resort!’ Angus growled. ‘For your information, Sally and I are work colleagues, nothing more. We’re here for a conference. I’m giving a paper on Tuesday.’

‘Oh!’

The relief she felt was so totally inappropriate she blustered on.

‘But you’re well. Busy as ever, I suppose?’