Children's Doctor, Meant-to-be Wife

Had her interest been feigned because she’d known how much he’d enjoyed talking over his work with her? Discussing her work, too, until she’d taken maternity leave, then, with Bobby’s diagnosis of cerebral palsy, hadn’t worked after that, staying home to care for their fragile, crippled little son.

While he had lost himself in work, trying to dispel the fear love brought with it by focussing on genetic mutations of the flu virus—or had it been HIV at that stage? He could no longer remember, just knew he’d used work to escape the pain of seeing Bobby fight for every breath he’d taken.

Not all the time, not when Bobby had been well, and laughing with glee at silly things—but often enough, when things had got too tough…

He pushed the memories away—though not too far away—and turned to Beth.

‘Was it hard, getting back into the swing of things at work?’

The question followed so closely on his thoughts he was surprised when she looked startled.

And puzzled.

‘I was back at work before we parted, Angus,’ she reminded him, and he had to smile, though it wasn’t a joyous expression.

‘You were putting on sensible working clothes and going to the hospital, and no doubt doing a very efficient job, but it was something to do, somewhere to go, somewhere to escape the emptiness—not something to enjoy or feel involved in.’

He stopped the cart and was about to get out, when he realised she hadn’t answered him—not only hadn’t answered, but was sitting staring at him as if he’d suddenly morphed into an alien.

‘How do you know that?’ she demanded, so obviously puzzled he felt pain shaft through him—pain that they could have lived such separate lives, that they had lost each other so completely in the thick emotional fog that had descended after Bobby’s death.

Anger rescued him, blazing along the path the pain had seared.

‘Do you think I didn’t do the same? Didn’t feel pushed so far off track by Bobby’s loss that I wondered if I’d ever find my way back again?’

His anger eased as he watched the colour fade from her face and saw her ashen lips move.

‘You never said,’ she whispered. ‘You never said…’

‘We never talked it through, did we?’ He spoke more gently now, shocked that she’d lost colour so easily. ‘Not about the things that mattered. I don’t suppose that’s surprising, given we were two people who had grown up not talking about emotions.’

He reached out and touched her cheek.

‘That made it very hard.’

He walked away before she could respond. Beth’s eyes were on his broad back as she followed him towards the hotel building. He was there for a conference, he would know where the convention area was, and the lecture theatre.

But her thoughts were far from the upcoming meeting.

How could she not have known how he’d felt?

He’d loved Bobby—she’d known that much—and had grieved after his death, but that Angus had been as lost as she had been, that was the revelation.

‘You never said,’ she whispered again, this time to herself, but even as she said it, she realised how stupid it was to be surprised. Angus was right. They had never talked about their emotions. After meeting Angus’s father, the only family he had, she had understood why he couldn’t. His father was an academic and conversation in the Stuart family ranged over many and varied topics—scientific, political, even religious, but never, ever emotional.

In fact, going to visit had always been an ordeal for Beth as the cool—no, cold—atmosphere of the house and her detached, unemotional father-in-law had intimidated her to such an extent she’d rarely said a word, while taking Bobby for a visit had always made her feel inadequate. Dr Stuart Senior had produced one perfect child, Angus, while Beth had produced one small boy, who through an accidental loss of oxygen to his brain during his birth, had been, in the eyes of those who hadn’t known and loved him, less than perfect.

Angus had stopped by the steps leading into the hotel and she caught up with him, looking up into his face, wanting to apologise, though for exactly what—not knowing how he’d felt, Bobby’s birth trauma, getting pregnant in the first place—she wasn’t certain.

Not that she could have apologised anyway. The look on his face was enough to freeze any words she might have said—freeze them on her tongue.

‘This way.’

Her heart ached at his remoteness, which was stupid considering they’d been apart for three long years. Why wouldn’t he be remote?

And wasn’t remote part of Angus anyway? He might have been one of the best-looking men in the hospital—not to mention one of the sexiest—but one look from his eyes, one tilt of his head, and even the most desperate of women would back away.

Which, of course, had been part of his allure to every single woman on the staff, and probably a lot of the married ones as well…

Angus led the way through the lobby towards the wing that housed the convention area. He and Beth had been together less than an hour and already he—or they—had managed to put up impenetrable barriers between them.

Yet seeing her had thawed parts of him he’d thought frozen for all time…

Seeing her had heated other parts of him—parts the beautiful Sally had barely stirred…

How could it be? He looked down at the shiny hair capping Beth’s head, feeling a certain contentment just to be near her, yet not understanding why he should feel that way.

Familiarity, that’s all it was, he tried to tell himself, but he didn’t believe it for a minute.

No, there was chemistry between himself and Beth he’d never understood, no matter how hard or how often, in the past, he’d tried to analyse it. And it was probably, if he was honest, his inability to analyse it—to dissect it, understand it and so rationalise it—that had led to him allowing Beth to push him away when Bobby had died.

He’d told himself she was like a drug that wasn’t good for him—that was the closest he could come to an explanation. And though he’d craved the drug, he’d gone, separated from her, telling himself it was for the best, pretending to himself he was doing it for Beth because she wanted it that way, losing himself and his grief in work…

‘The lecture theatre’s through here,’ he said, touching her arm to guide her through a door at the end of the passage, touching her skin, Beth’s skin…

Charles beckoned them forward, indicating seats at the front of the hall, taking his place behind a lectern, waiting for latecomers to find somewhere to sit, waiting for silence before telling all those assembled that the island was now in quarantine.

CHAPTER THREE

BETH watched Angus as he spoke, introduced by Charles as an epidemiology expert, explaining the necessity for quarantine until the source of the virus had been isolated.

Someone at the back immediately asked if it was connected to the dead birds, and Angus gave Beth a slight nod as if in confirmation of her words earlier.

‘It is highly unlikely to be bird flu,’ he said. ‘But because it is similar to a flu virus, we believe flu vaccine might stave off infection in people not already infected. A number of you are hospital staff or are in related medical fields so have already had flu shots for this year, but we are flying in more stocks and will vaccinate everyone on the island who isn’t already covered. This will be a big task but, like any task, it can be broken down into sizeable chunks.’

Hands shot up in the air as people wanted to question Angus, but Charles broke in to ask those with questions to wait until Angus had finished speaking, then, if he hadn’t covered all aspects, to ask questions then.

He waved his hand to indicate Angus could again take the floor.

‘So, vaccination programmes will begin, testing is ongoing and we should get results within forty-eight hours, but in the meantime we must act as if bird flu is a possibility, however remote. We know that more than ninety-nine per cent of bird-flu cases have come from direct contact with infected birds. So it is imperative we warn guests and staff to keep away from all birds, whether alive or dead. We have already ordered full body suits with rebreathing masks to be flown to the island. As soon as they arrive, the rangers will all be rostered on duty to collect and dispose of any dead birds safely.’