St Piran's: The Wedding!

How long had it been since the last tenants had gone? Since she’d fired the rental agency who had failed to fix the issues like the broken pipes that had driven the tenants away? At least six months, but Megan had been too far away and too busy to cope with the hassle of putting new arrangements in place. Angered too by the flood of queries coming in from developers who were always waiting in the wings like vultures to get their hands on such a desirable piece of real estate.

And then she’d been too sick.

It was a ridiculously hard effort to push the gate open and drag her suitcase along the flagged path now choked with weeds and the branches of perennials like lavender that looked like they hadn’t been cut back since she’d left two years ago. Megan felt the prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. This had all been so pretty once. Not that she’d ever managed to keep it as picture-perfect as her grandmother had but she’d tried her best to keep it the same.

To preserve the memories of how it had been in her childhood, when this cottage and her beloved gran had been the most precious things in her life.

And that, of course, was what had brought her back now.

This was where her roots were.

Not that she’d actually been brought up here. No. After her parents were tragically killed in a car accident, Megan had gone to live with her grandmother in London. But Gran had been brought up in Penhally and that was where she’d taken Megan for a seaside holiday, every summer. They’d rented this very cottage, year after year, and the memories of those weeks had always been tinged with the rosy perfection of being the best time in the best place in the world. The cottage had been the home of her heart for as long as she could remember.

When she’d been so dreadfully ill, nearly losing her life after losing the baby, Megan had been forced to finally tell her grandmother the truth. Despite being already frail, Gran had gathered up all her strength, wrapped it all with the unconditional love she had for her granddaughter and declared that they needed a new beginning, starting with a seaside holiday. When she’d found that their beloved rental cottage was on the market, Gran had simply moved their lives back to her home town and, by doing so, had allowed Megan to put the pieces of her shattered life back together.

So this cottage and its memories, the sea and the village all added up to home. And home was the place that drew you back when you needed comfort. A safe place to recover and reassess your life.

Besides, the cottage badly needed sorting out. It would have been unforgiveable to let it crumble into some sort of ruin. Megan could hear the kind of ‘tsking’ sound her grandmother would have been making as she pushed open a front door stiff with disuse and stepped into a space that felt just as cold as it was outside. A space that reeked of damp and mould and mice.

Oh … hell …

This was far worse than she’d expected.

It wasn’t just the evidence of appalling neglect. The horrible smell of the rubbish left by the tenants littering the hallway or the ominous sound of trickling water coming from the kitchen. Or was it the bathroom upstairs? Probably both.

It wasn’t the knowledge that there would be no electricity on yet and it mightn’t even be safe to have it turned back on until she found someone to check the wiring. It wasn’t even the wave of incredible weariness as Megan contemplated the energy it would take to sort any of this out.

No. It was the feeling of being so alone.

The result of the emotional punch of the memories of not being alone in this house.

Not that Josh had ever stayed here. But this was where it had ended, wasn’t it? Her feet seemed to be literally treading memory lane. Taking her down the hallway and into her kitchen while her head and her heart conjured up the figure of Josh following her.

Her feet crunched through pieces of broken glass on the kitchen floor.

Her heart had been broken long ago. How on earth could it still hurt this much?

Because it was here that Josh had prised that jug of water out of her hands? Just before he’d kissed her as if it was the end of the world and she was the only thing that mattered to him.

Here that Josh had told her how much he loved her?

When he’d told her that he couldn’t be in love with her any more because his wife was pregnant.

She could actually hear echoes of his voice.

I love you so much, which is why this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do …

It was just one night, weeks before you and I …

I love you, Megan … but no child of mine will grow up as I did, without a father. I won’t do that. I have to make this work.

Yes. That had been when her heart had really broken. With the realisation that Josh had been lying to her when he’d told her the marriage was over. When she realised he’d still been sleeping with his wife at the time as he’d shared her bed.

That was when she’d known that it was truly all over. When any hope had died. She had known that, despite the love they had for each other, they could never, ever be together. Nothing could change that. If Rebecca’s death hadn’t even made a dent, then being back in Penhally certainly wasn’t going to. That sense of betrayal was clearly still there. She’d thought she’d got over it all but the pain she was feeling right now was proof that she’d only managed to hide from it.

The chirrup of her mobile phone announced a text message. It was from Tasha—the only friend she’d really kept in touch with over the last couple of years. Maybe because Tash had also left Penhally. Or because she’d understood. How ironic was it that Tasha was Josh’s sister?

U there yet? The message read. How’s it going?

Megan’s breath came out in a snort of wry amusement as she pulled off a woolly glove and tapped a response.

Just got here. Bit messy.

Would Tasha wonder what she was referring to? The house? Her emotional state? Her life?

Maybe she knew. Hugs, came back. U OK?

I will be. Thnx. Call u soon.

Tasha would be worried about her. Her friend had been dubious about the return. Why not come somewhere sunny to recuperate? she’d suggested. Like San Savarre? Or London, which would be close enough to make sorting things out a little easier and she wouldn’t be so alone because Charles would be there, wouldn’t he? Being with such a good friend who knew the whole story would be the best protection from being vulnerable to ghosts from the past.

She could cope, Megan had assured Tasha. It wouldn’t be for long. Yes, she knew that Josh had moved from the smart St Piran town house he’d shared with Rebecca and was living closer to Penhally now. Of course he had moved. He’d needed a bigger house and a garden for the children and for his mother, who’d gone to live with them. By tacit agreement, she and Tash rarely talked about her brother but in those early days Megan had needed to know that the babies had survived their dramatic entrance to the world and had gone on to thrive. She hadn’t really needed the later snippets that had told her Josh was a perfect father to little Max and Brenna. Or that his emergency department at St Piran’s hospital was considered to be the best in the county.

Or that there were no women of any significance in his life. That he’d taken some sort of vow not to mess up anybody else’s life.

His children and his career were all that mattered to Josh now. He probably wouldn’t even be interested that she was visiting the area. There was no reason for their paths to cross other than the fact that this was a small village.

Megan closed her eyes to the view of Penhally Bay she still had in front of her through the kitchen window.

Maybe it was time to really let go of the past.

All of it.

Sell her grandmother’s cottage and move on for ever.

If the memories were this hard to handle, how on earth did she think she would cope if she actually met Josh again?

The sooner she got out of here the better.

Maybe she didn’t even need to think about fixing up the cottage. It wasn’t as if it would make much difference to the kind of money a developer would be happy to offer.

She did need to find a place to stay for the night, however, and she really didn’t want to contact any old friends from St Piran’s even though she knew they would be happy to help.

The information centre in the village should be able to direct her to somewhere that would have a room available. Too weary in both body and spirit to face carrying her suitcase, Megan locked it into the cottage, taking only her shoulder bag as she set off to walk down the hill.

When she went back through the gate, however, the small path down to the beach caught her eye.

Just a look, she told herself. A glimpse into part of her past that wasn’t associated with Josh. If she could feel the sand beneath her feet and close her eyes and breathe in the salty air, maybe she could remember something happier.

A summer’s day, even. Building sandcastles and collecting shells and pieces of seaweed. Sitting on the damp sand with her bare legs stretched out in front of her, waiting for the thrill of the last wash of a wave to foam around her. Running back to the cottage to show Gran her new treasures.

Maybe it should have been running into Josh unexpectedly that she should have prepared herself for.

The dog on the beach was large enough to be quite frightening as he came loping towards Megan with a piece of driftwood clamped between his jaws. In the periphery of her vision, however, Megan could see a woman and children who had to be the dog’s family because the beach was otherwise deserted. Nobody with children would have a vicious dog, would they? Besides, his teeth were occupied with the large piece of driftwood. And his tail was wagging in a very friendly manner.

‘Crash!’ The woman called firmly. ‘Come back here.’

Crash? The name was unusual enough to ring a bell. He’d only been a gangly, half-grown puppy then, of course, but Megan could remember him wearing a big, white ribbon around his neck at a summer beach wedding. Luke and Anna Davenport’s wedding.

It wasn’t Anna coming towards her now, though.

‘I’m so sorry.’ The woman, bundled up warmly in a coat, hat and huge scarf, was very apologetic. ‘He’s a bit too friendly, so he is. But he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

She had a strong Irish accent and the lilt took Megan immediately into a space she really didn’t want to be. Was everything and everybody here going to make her think instantly of Josh? She took a deep breath and focused on the dog.

‘It’s fine,’ Megan said. ‘I don’t mind.’ To prove it, she scratched the dog behind one of his ears, which was easy to do because Crash was leaning on her leg. ‘Isn’t this the Davenports’ dog?’

‘Indeed it is. We mind him during the day when they’re both working. The children love him to bits, so they do.’

The children were half hidden behind folds of the woman’s coat as she held their mittened hands. Megan could see cute hats with ears on them and bright plastic boots. A pink pair with red flowers and a green pair with eyes that made them look like frogs. The owner of the frog boots peered out from the folds of coat.

‘Cash naughty,’ a small voice pronounced.

Crash wagged his tail harder.

The woman looked down to smile at her charges. ‘Say hello, children.’

But the children said nothing. Neither did Megan. Her gaze had also dropped and she could see that the children were no bigger than toddlers. That they seemed to be close enough the same size as each other to be twins.

And … oh, God … the cheeky smile on the little boy’s face had a charm out of all proportion to his age. His eyes were too dark to determine their colour but they were so … alive. His face danced with mischief and Megan could feel the pull of a personality that went past being cute or attractive.

It was the kind of pull that made it impossible not to get sucked in.

To fall in love.

The kind of connection that could be overwhelming. That had the capability of derailing, if not destroying, a life.

Megan sucked in a deep breath. How ridiculous to be … what, afraid of a child?

But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Much, much more.

Her gaze jerked up again and now she could see past the folds of the scarf and a woollen hat pulled low over her forehead. She could see a woman who looked to be well into her sixties but could be younger because those lines suggested a life that had not been easy. Behind the spectacles she wore, Megan could now see the colour of her eyes and her heart skipped a beat. She knew who had inherited that shade of indigo blue.

‘Oh, my goodness. You’re Josh’s mother … Claire O’Hara?’

‘Indeed I am.’ Claire blinked in surprise. ‘Have we met?’

‘Just once. At the hospital. When the twins were still in the intensive care unit. The day before.’

The gaze Claire O’Hara directed at Megan was intense. And then it turned distinctly wary. ‘Oh … You’re Megan Phillips. The doctor. I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognise you. It was such a terrible time … the day before poor Rebecca’s funeral and …’

‘There’s no need to apologise.’ Megan was still caught by the undertone she couldn’t fail to have missed in the older woman’s gaze. Recognition of more than her identity.

Had Josh filled her in on his star-crossed lover history?

Unlikely. But this was a small village and St Piran’s hospital grapevine was robust thanks to people who loved to gossip, like that dreadful woman—the ward clerk in the NICU … what was her name? Ruth? No … Rita.

Oh … Lord. Had Josh’s mother heard about the way they’d met, way back when Megan had been a final-year medical student? That she’d become pregnant after a one-night stand with Josh, who hadn’t been remotely interested in seeing her again? That he’d saved her life but that their son had been too premature to survive?

That baby—Stephen—had been Claire’s grandson.

Even if she hadn’t caught up on ancient history, she couldn’t have missed the scandal of the way she and Josh had been drawn back to each other when he’d moved to St Piran’s.

“Poor Rebecca”, she’d said. Because her daughter-in-law had been badly treated by her husband, who had given up on their marriage and had been more interested in another woman? That Megan was the “other woman”? And that, in the end, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other?

Or maybe she felt sorry for Rebecca because she’d died knowing that Josh was only staying in the marriage for the sake of the children.

Megan was acutely embarrassed. Ashamed, even. The way she might have felt if Claire was her own grandmother and she’d disappointed her beyond measure. It had been a mistake to come back here. A dreadful mistake.

Except that Claire wasn’t eyeing her as if she was the cause of all her son’s troubles. ‘And you look … different,’ she continued. That wary expression had completely gone now. Claire’s face actually creased with a kindly concern. ‘You’re so pale, dear. Are you all right?’

‘I’m … um … fine.’ Megan nodded for emphasis and then tried to cover her embarrassment at the undeserved sympathy by looking down and smiling at the children. They stared back, wide-eyed and still shy.

‘This is Max.’ Claire smiled. She turned her head. ‘And this is Brenna.’

They were so impossibly cute. Small faces with perfect features and she could see now that their eyes were as blue as their grandmother’s and their father’s. She wondered if the hair beneath the animal hats would be glossy and black and so soft to run your fingers through it, just like Josh’s. Or had they inherited their mother’s blondeness?

Josh’s children. Josh and Rebecca’s children. Living proof that he’d gone back to his wife’s bed after his marriage was supposedly over, leaving him morally available to Megan.

Maybe something of how hard this was showed in her face.

‘Up,’ Brenna demanded, dropping her grandmother’s hand to hold both arms in the air. ‘Up, Nan. Pick me up.’

Claire had to let go of Max’s hand to pick Brenna up. Max immediately toddled off, at some speed, towards the waves. Crash loped after him.

‘Max. Come back. We have to go home now. It’s starting to rain.’

It was starting to rain. Big, fat, icy drops of water began pelting the small group on the beach.

Claire tried to put Brenna down to run after Max but the little girl shrieked a protest. Crash had dropped his lump of wood and was circling Max, who looked determined to get closer to the wild surf.

‘I’ll get him.’ Megan dropped her shoulder bag and took off.

It took only seconds to reach the toddler but the burst of energy it took was enough to make Megan feel faint. She really wasn’t fine at all, was she?

It was just as well that Max’s little legs had also exhausted their energy reserves. He grinned at Megan. ‘Puddle?’ he asked hopefully.

Oh, help … he was totally irresistible with that crooked little smile and the hopeful expression on his face.

‘Not today, sweetheart.’ She scooped up the toddler and held him in her arms. ‘It’s not sunny enough, is it?’

Her steps almost faltered as she carried the child back to Claire. She was holding Josh’s son. The closest she had ever come to holding the child she could have had herself. The shape of the soft little body cuddling into her was delicious. When Max wrapped his arms around her neck to hang on tighter, Megan felt a flash of pain in her chest, as if her heart was cracking. An old scar, perhaps, being torn open?

Thank goodness it was raining. If any tears escaped, at least nobody would know except her. All she wanted was to grab her bag and escape the moment she got back to Claire, but how could she leave her now? The rain was coming down harder and she had to get two small children and a very large dog off the beach and—presumably—into a car. Or was Josh now living this close to Penhally beach? To her cottage?

‘The car’s not far,’ Claire said. ‘Just down the road a bit.’ She put Brenna down and took a leash from her coat pocket, which she clipped to Crash’s collar. Holding the lead with one hand, she held out her other hand to Brenna. ‘Can you walk now, pet?’

‘No-o-o. Up.’

Relief that Josh wasn’t going to turn out to be a close neighbour made Megan take a deep breath.

‘Let me help,’ she said. ‘You’re getting wet and you’ve got a bit of a handful here.’

‘Don’t I know it?’ Claire picked Brenna up, managing to keep hold of the leash. ‘And there I was thinking that it would make my day easy if I gave them all a quick run on the beach before we did our messages in the village. I don’t know where these tots get their energy from.’

Megan had to hide a smile as she found herself struggling to keep up with Claire on the way back to the car. Limitless energy was clearly an O’Hara trait.

Not that she could leave Josh’s mother to cope alone once they reached the car either. The wind had picked up and was threatening to blow the heavy doors closed and it was a mission to strap two wriggling toddlers into their car seats and then shove a folder double stroller out of the way to make room for a big dog to jump into the back hatch of the station wagon.

Finally, everything seemed to be sorted but as Claire reached up to pull the hatch down, she suddenly stopped. She closed her eyes and bent her head, her breath escaping in almost a groan.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, I’m fine, I am. Just need to catch my wind.’

But Megan could feel a prickle of awareness. One that she’d learned never to ignore.

‘Sit down for a minute,’ she said. ‘Here …’ She pushed the stroller further back and guided Claire to sit on the edge of the car floor. Crash shuffled sideways to make room. The car was pointed into the wind and with the hatch cover still up they were fairly well protected from the weather. ‘You are a bit short of puff, aren’t you?’

‘It’s the cold, that’s all.’

But Claire was virtually gasping for air. She started loosening the woollen scarf around her neck but abandoned the action to start rubbing the top of her left arm through her coat sleeve.

‘Have you got any pain in your chest?’ Megan asked.

Claire shook her head. ‘It just gets … tight … that’s all. In the cold … and … if I hurry.’

‘But your arm hurts?’

‘Only an ache … It’s nothing … Goes away …’

Except it didn’t seem to be going away this time. And Claire’s face looked grey. Even as Megan watched with mounting alarm, beads of perspiration appeared beneath the edge of the woollen hat.

‘Go.’ A small voice came over the top of the back seat. ‘Go, Nan. Go-o-o.’ The plea trailed to a miserable sound. Beside Max, Brenna began to cry.

Claire tried to stand up but had barely begun moving before she collapsed backwards.

‘I don’t … I don’t feel very well …’ She tugged harder at her scarf and it came away and rippled to the ground.

‘Do you have any history of heart problems?’ Megan asked. ‘Do you carry spray for angina or anything?’

‘No … I’m fine …’ Claire’s face was crumpling. She looked terribly afraid. ‘I have to be,’ she whispered.

Megan had stripped off her gloves and was feeling for Claire’s pulse. The rapid, uneven beat made it very clear what had to be done. She reached for her shoulder bag to find her mobile phone.

‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ she told Claire calmly. ‘You need medical attention.’

‘No … I’ll be fine … Just give me … a minute.’

But the emergency services had answered Megan’s call with commendable swiftness and she was already describing their location.

‘Cardiac chest pain,’ she told the dispatcher. ‘Radiating to the left arm. Arrhythmia.’

‘You’re a doctor?’ the dispatcher queried.

‘Yes.’

‘An ambulance is on its way. Are you able to stay with the patient?’

In case of a cardiac arrest?

‘Of course.’

Megan made Claire as comfortable as she could while they waited for the ambulance. She took off her own coat to provide the older woman with some extra warmth. Picking up the scarf, she saw why it had been difficult for Clair to loosen. It had become caught on a necklace chain, which had broken.

Not that she pointed that out to Claire but, to prevent a possible treasure being lost, she put the chain into her own coat pocket, leaving the scarf in the back of the car. Her actions were brisk and organised but automatic because she was busy providing as much reassurance as she could, knowing that any stress could make this much worse. If Claire was, as she suspected, having a heart attack, then anxiety could tip the balance and stop her heart completely.

Would she have the strength herself to keep up CPR until an ambulance arrived?

Thank goodness she didn’t need to find out. The ambulance arrived only minutes later and the crew had Claire on a stretcher and attached to a monitor within a very short time. She had an oxygen mask on by the time the rhythm settled on the screen of the life pack and a paramedic was preparing to insert an IV line.

‘Marked ST elevation,’ her crew partner noted. ‘Looks like an infarct all right.’

‘Are you on any medication?’ the paramedic asked Claire. ‘Are you allergic to anything that you know of? Have you had any aspirin today?’

Claire was shaking her head in response to all the questions. Things were happening too fast for her to find any words. The children in the car were both crying loudly now but Megan was still holding Claire’s hand.

‘It’s going to be fine,’ she reassured Claire yet again. ‘These people are going to look after you and make sure you get checked out properly at hospital.’ She turned to one of the crew members. ‘Claire’s son is Josh O’Hara at St Piran’s. He may well be on duty at the moment so you might like to let him know in advance who you’re bringing in.’