be the first over the finishing line,’ Lucy teased gently, her eyes twinkling as she helped the old lady into the waiting room. ‘Bye, Mrs Lambert. I’ll see you next month unless you need me before that.’
She walked back to the treatment room, surprised to find Richard still there.
‘She’s doing well, isn’t she?’ She pulled the mouthpiece out of the peak-flow meter and tossed it in the bin, carefully placing the device back on her asthma tray ready for the next time it would be needed.
Richard adjusted his metal-rimmed glasses and nodded. ‘Amazingly so. You’re a miracle-worker. I could never persuade her to blow into “that infernal machine”, as she calls it. Your asthma clinic works a treat.’
Lucy smiled briefly, embarrassed by the praise. ‘It’s only because I have more time than you.’
Richard snorted. ‘No, it’s not! Sometimes I think you’re the busiest person in the place. You’ve got the touch, that’s all,’ he said softly, his eyes suddenly searching as he looked at her. ‘But I didn’t really want to talk about Annie Lambert. I wanted to talk about you. You’ve been with us for a month now. I want to know how you are.’
Lucy gave him a grateful smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she said quietly, touched that he cared enough to ask.
‘Fine?’ Richard gave a curious smile and walked across the room to stare out of the window. ‘Do you know, I’ve decided over the years that I hate that word?’ he observed. ‘It doesn’t say anything about how a person is really feeling.’
Lucy stared at him, wondering what else to say.
She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. That deep inside she hurt so badly she could barely breathe. That she was lonely and sad and that sometimes her fear of the future was so intense it threatened to choke her.
She’d felt that way for a whole year, ever since—
With a sigh, she pushed the memories away. She’d long since made it a rule not to think about her problems at work, but if the senior partner was asking how she was then maybe she wasn’t doing such a great job at hiding her feelings.
Or maybe something else was the matter…
A flicker of anxiety ran through her insides. ‘Is something wrong?’ She searched her mind for possibilities. ‘I know it’s awkward for you that I have to finish work at three, and—’
‘Lucy, Lucy—’ Richard interrupted her gently, and walked slowly towards her, a frown creasing his forehead. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, shall we? Your contribution to this practice is immeasurable. None of us care about you having to finish work at three. I’m not asking how you are because I have any professional concerns. My interest was completely personal. Elizabeth is worried about you and frankly so am I.’
He ran his eyes over her quickly and his mouth tightened. ‘You look tired. Are you having trouble sleeping?’
She opened her mouth to deny it and then realised the futility of it. The man was a doctor, for goodness’ sake.
‘Sometimes,’ she hedged, ‘but I’m all right, truly. I love it here.’
It was true—she did love it.
Moving to this pretty part of Cornwall was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time.
Richard’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know, I could give you something to help with the sleeping.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, horrified at the suggestion. ‘Thank you, but, no. I prefer not to.’
What was the point?
The sadness would still be there when she woke up.
Hoping to change the subject, she picked up a dressing pack and tidied it away in the cupboard. ‘By the way, those new dressing packs we ordered are great. Much less wastage than the old ones. It should save the practice a significant amount of money in the long run.’
‘Lucy, I don’t care about the dressing packs!’ Richard ran both hands through his hair in frustration. ‘Well, I do care, of course,’ he corrected himself quickly, ‘but not at the moment. Stop working and sit down, will you? I can’t talk to you while you’re moving around the room.’
Resigning herself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let the subject drop, Lucy did as she was told.
‘How are you finding the flat?’
‘Fantastic,’ she replied immediately. ‘I’ve never lived anywhere so beautiful.’
It was true. After living in a cramped, damp flat in the grey suburbs of London, the spacious, airy flat with views over the harbour was straight out of her fantasies.
Richard adjusted his glasses and peered at her. ‘But you’re not meeting people.’
‘I meet people through my work,’ she pointed out quickly, and he gave a wry smile.
‘That isn’t exactly what I meant.’
She stared down at her hands, wondering why it was that everyone thought that the cure for a broken relationship was a new one. ‘I know what you meant and believe me when I say that meeting men isn’t high on my list of priorities at the moment.’
And she couldn’t imagine that it ever would be.
He nodded slowly. ‘I can understand why you feel that way, but give it time, Lucy, and you’ll feel differently. Sooner or later you need to get out there and build a new life.’
Did she?
How?
She had no experience in starting relationships. She’d known Tim since she was six years old and had always assumed that one day they’d get married. She’d just never imagined that it wouldn’t last for ever.
The whole concept of meeting and dating men—strangers—was completely alien to her.
‘I wish you’d join Elizabeth and me for a meal one day,’ Richard was saying. ‘We’d love to have you.’
Lucy smiled gently. ‘Dr Whittaker, you have been unbelievably kind to me since we met. I was a total stranger to you but you gave me a part-time job when you needed a full-time nurse, and you let me have a flat rent-free—’
‘You’re doing us a favour, living in it during the winter. There are no tourists at this time of year,’ Richard reminded her, ‘so it’s sitting empty.’
Lucy fiddled with the material of her uniform. ‘What I mean is that you’ve been extraordinarily generous. You don’t need to feed me as well.’
He frowned. ‘But you do cook for yourself in the evening?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said quickly, wondering if cereal and toast counted as cooking. It didn’t matter. She owed the Whittakers so much already, she certainly didn’t intend to impose on their kindness any more than she had to.
Richard
