and the pilot was ready for take-off, Callum reminded her, ‘Please remember to arrange for the motorcycle to be picked up by the garage beside the river, and tell them the guy from the apartments who fills up his tank there will call in to settle it as soon as he gets back from taking the casualty to A and E.’
With that the doors closed and he was gone. What an awful day it was turning out to be, thought Leonie. First Julie had phoned to say she’d picked up a flu bug and wasn’t fit to do the walk. Leonie had been happy to help out her friend, but none of them had been prepared for the shock of witnessing that motorbike accident. It hadn’t helped that the rider had been such a young guy. She couldn’t blame the kids for reacting as they had.
Callum Warrender’s arrival had seemed miraculous. He’d taken charge with brusque authority. That he was used to giving orders had been plain to see, but there was no way was she going to go to a strange garage to ask them to pick up the damaged motorcycle and tell them that someone completely unknown to her would pay the bill. She would settle the account herself.
Her group was getting restless so, putting her concerns for the victim and reservations about the man who had taken charge of the catastrophe to one side, Leonie gathered the group together and they set off on their hike across the moors once again, this time in a less euphoric mood than before.
* * *
When they arrived back at the community centre in the early evening Leonie left them to the delights of a disco that had been arranged for them by other helpers and went to find the garage by the river that the brusque doctor had mentioned. After giving them details of where the motorcycle could be found, and paying what appeared to be a standing charge for that kind of thing, she asked them to keep it on the premises until she could find a name and address for the injured rider.
Then returned to her recently purchased yurt, where she rang the hospital that the young man had been flown to.
On being put through to A and E, she explained to a nurse at the other end of the line that she had been present when the accident had taken place, and was informed that the patient had regained consciousness and was in Theatre, having fractures and other injuries dealt with by Mr Callum Warrender from the Heatherdale Children’s Hospital, who had travelled with him in the helicopter.
That the young man was being treated and by the best was all that really mattered. There were going to be parents somewhere who would be most thankful that someone like Callum Warrender had appeared out of the blue at the scene of the crash.
The fact that there had also been a highly qualified nurse there as well had paled into insignificance beside his presence, she reflected wryly.
Of course, she’d heard a lot about Dr Warrender from her colleagues, like how talented a surgeon he was, but she’d never once pictured in her mind what he would be like. To find that she actually liked the look of him was unsettling, but those moments on the road to the moors would stay in her memory for time to come.
His skin was tanned, his hair dark and he had hazel eyes in a face that had purpose and integrity etched upon it. His physique spoke of strength and stamina and, as with his tan, suggested a rugged way of life. There was no denying he was very good looking yet she hadn’t heard any mention of a wife in Callum Warrender’s life.
* * *
Callum travelled back from Manchester by train. He was tired, and looked forward to grabbing a quick bite to eat at the hotel near his apartment. But first he planned to call in at the community centre to let Leonie know how the patient was progressing.
He was aware that he’d been less than civil out there on the road to the moors and felt an apology was required. The reason for his manner was easy enough for him to understand, but a stranger wasn’t going to know how much he cherished time to himself out in the countryside around Heatherdale.
To his surprise he had enjoyed working alongside her to save their patient’s life. He also needed to find her to thank her for her excellent and level-headed assistance.
A disco was in full swing when he got there, but there was no sign of the woman he’d come in search of, and when he asked of the middle-aged disc jockey in charge where she might be found he said, ‘Leonie has gone home to the yurt. She’s had a stressful day from the sound of it. Do you want me to give her a message?’
Callum shook his head. ‘No, I need to speak to her personally. Where is it that you say she’s gone?’
‘She lives on the yurtery on the far side of the river.’
‘You mean she lives in a tent?’
‘Er, yes, I suppose you could say that,’ was the reply. ‘Hers is the third one from the entrance to the site.’ And with a frown he went on to say, ‘I’m not sure if I should be telling you this. I don’t know who you are, do I?’
‘We were both involved in treating an injured motorcyclist up on the road to the moors earlier on today and I’ve come to report on his condition, that’s all. I’m one of the doctors from Heatherdale Hospital,’ he explained, and off he went without further delay as hunger pangs were beginning to make themselves felt.
He’d noticed the development of the latest idea in camping at the other side of the river while he’d been having his breakfast that morning. It was known by some as ‘glamping’. A reference to the attractions of a yurt as against the basics of a tent. He was curious to know how they worked as permanent dwellings.
So when Leonie opened the door of the round, glass-roofed construction to him a short time later his glance went immediately to the décor behind her and he saw that the latest ‘must have’ for those who wanted something small and cheerful to live in was attractively furnished and quite a lot bigger than it had appeared from the outside. Also it made his solidly expensive furnishings in the apartment seem dull and boring by comparison.
But he wasn’t there out of curiosity and was not even sure if he’d got the right place, as the woman observing him anxiously didn’t look like the woman of those moments on the hillside. Gone were the woolly hat and shapeless jacket.
She was wearing a pale blue dress with matching sandals, had thick and curling chestnut hair that framed her face damply from recent washing, and was observing him in a way that told him he hadn’t come to the wrong place after all.
‘Come in,’ she invited, and as she stepped back to let him pass asked anxiously, ‘So how is our patient now?’
Callum was still in his walking clothes and before he could reply she followed one question with another.
‘Have you only just got back?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I operated on him myself, and the news is that he is in Intensive Care at the moment but may be put on to one of the wards in the morning.’
‘How serious are his injuries?’ she continued.
‘Serious enough, but he’ll recover,’ he told her. ‘What about your group? Did you get them safely back to base?’
‘Er, yes, no casualties amongst them, I’m pleased to say.’
Leonie was conscious that he was mellower now than he’d been out there on the way to the moors. She’d hardly expected him to seek her out in person to report on the motorcyclist, so why was he here, standing before her awkwardly and making stilted comments?
‘I’ve
