Their Twin Christmas Surprise
Hastily, she dragged her gaze away, knowing that she couldn’t afford for anyone to guess just how much it was costing her to keep herself together while her world fell apart around her.
This was the first time that she’d seen her sister since the day that she’d turned up in A and E to be introduced to Dan, and when she’d heard nothing more, Sara had dared to breathe a sigh of relief. Even if they had gone out together, Zara’s attention span was notoriously short and she was certain her fickle sister would soon tire of an escort who would never be at her beck and call.
She was so confident that the two of them hadn’t hit it off together after all that she’d actually been contemplating screwing up her courage to ask Dan out for a drink later in the week, hoping that the two of them could continue the relationship they’d embarked on when she’d joined the department, longing to see where it would lead them.
The last thing she’d expected was that he and Zara had been carrying on a whirlwind courtship that would result in an engagement. Zara hadn’t dropped a single hint … and she certainly hadn’t phoned her a week ago to invite her to their engagement party.
It was a good job that she’d had years of practice at hiding her feelings from her manipulative sister. Even so, she needed a moment or two to compose herself, grateful for the time it took for her mother to walk across the room to join her father. Then he tapped the edge of his glass to attract everyone’s attention. He beckoned Zara and Daniel to join the two of them in front of the fireplace before he cleared his throat portentously.
‘Friends,’ he began.
‘Romans and countrymen,’ added one of Zara’s modelling friends with an inebriated giggle, only to be hushed by one of the older, more sober guests.
‘Friends, as you all know, this is a very special occasion,’ Frank Walker began again as Zara finally met Sara’s gaze and she saw that, oh, so familiar smug expression followed by a cuttingly dismissive glance from head to toe that told Sara as clearly as anything that her sister had deliberately neglected to tell her about the purpose of this evening’s gathering for exactly this reason.
If ever there had been a moment that demonstrated how different the two of them were it was this one, with Zara … flawless, beautiful Zara … the centre of everyone’s admiring gaze while she was purposely relegated into the background, not even afforded the courtesy call that would have allowed her to look her best. No one would be left in any doubt why Dan would choose Zara over her dowdy, less-than-perfect twin.
‘Audrey and I are delighted to welcome you all this evening to celebrate the engagement of our beautiful daughter Zara to this handsome chap here.’ There was a muted cheer and happy laughter from a small group who could only be Dan’s family—not that she’d ever had the chance of meeting them before. ‘In case you haven’t heard all about him yet, he’s Dr Daniel Lomax, and I have no doubt at all that he’ll soon be a consultant in emergency medicine at one of the top hospitals in the country. So, I’d like you all to raise your glasses to wish them both every happiness. To Zara and Danny!’
With all the glasses being raised and the voices echoing her father’s words, the fact that she hadn’t been given a glass shouldn’t have been noticed, neither should the small detail that she was totally unable to utter a word, her eyes burning with the threat of tears. But Zara noticed, and once more smiled like the proverbial cat that had got the cream.
Then Daniel noticed too, his slightly dazzled expression replaced by a puzzled frown when he caught sight of her standing alone just inside the door with her hands hanging heavily by her sides.
Then Zara noticed the focus of her new fiancé's attention and put an immediate end to it, reaching up to cup his cheek with a hand that glittered with a million points of fire as the light caught her engagement ring, then she leaned possessively against him to give him a prolonged kiss that had the room hooting encouragement and left him branded with her scarlet lipstick.
This time when her gaze met Sara’s from the circle of Daniel’s arms her expression screamed just one word—mine.
‘Relax. The baby’s fine,’ soothed the technician as she slid the probe through the gel on the pale curve of Sara’s exposed belly. How few weeks ago it had been that she’d celebrated the fact that she was actually beginning to look pregnant. ‘Look, Sara, you can see the heart beating for yourself and there is absolutely no sign of an abruption or any other sort of a bleed in there. Now, did you want me to print an extra copy for you? I might even be able to get a shot that tells you whether you’re having a—’ Her cheerful patter halted abruptly as she leant forward to take a closer look at the screen then moved the probe to change the angle of the view. ‘What on earth …?’ she muttered under her breath.
‘What? Rosalie, what’s wrong with the baby?’ Sara demanded, the pain in her head intensifying with her fear for the life of the child. ‘Is it something to do with the accident? Was the baby injured or …?’
‘Not at all! There is absolutely nothing wrong with your baby,’ the young woman announced as she turned with a wide grin on her face. ‘In fact, there’s nothing wrong with either of them. Look, Sara … it’s twins! There are two heartbeats!’
Suddenly, Sara didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or cry. As if her life wasn’t in enough of a tangle already. Now she was going to have to tell everyone that it wasn’t just one baby she was carrying but two. Both sets of future grandparents would be ecstatic, without a doubt, but Dan would be the only other one in the family who would understand just how much more perilous this pregnancy had become.
As if thinking his name had finally conjured him up, there he was, standing in the doorway with an expression Sara had longed to see on his face for so long … concern for her welfare. Or was it, as ever, concern for the pregnancy?
‘What on earth have you done?’ he demanded as he strode in, grabbing her case notes as if he had every right to examine them, and she realised that nothing had changed. Any concern he felt was obviously for his precious offspring.
Disappointment made her headache even fiercer and lent an acid edge to her tongue.
‘Don’t worry, Danny, the baby’s fine. In fact, you could even say you’re getting a genuine bargain—buy one, get one free.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ he snapped, and turned towards the startled woman standing in front of the high-tech control panel. ‘Has she been concussed?’
‘No, I’m not concussed,’ Sara insisted before Rosalie could even draw a breath to answer, completely ignoring the fact that she’d apparently been unconscious among a stack of soggy cardboard boxes for the better part of half an hour before anyone had found her after the accident. ‘In fact, according to everybody, I’ve been extremely lucky. My foot slipped on the wet cobbles as I tried to turn away from the impact to protect the baby, so I only sustained a glancing blow from the car.’ She ticked her injuries off on her fingers, a slightly difficult feat with one arm strapped across her body.
‘I’ve had a couple of stitches and got a goose egg on my forehead and I’ll probably end up with one or even two black eyes; I dislocated my shoulder, but that’s been put back where it belongs—hence the strapping; my hip is black and blue where it hit the granite cobbles, but even without X-rays of the region the orthopaedic consultant’s almost certain I didn’t break anything there and he says the cracked fibula should heal without any complications. Oh, and apart from that, I feel as if I’ve lost several yards of skin from various portions of my anatomy.’
She’d been glaring at him throughout her recitation and couldn’t help feeling a little remorse when she saw the colour swiftly drain from his face. Not that she intended letting him off the hook. After all, it wasn’t Sara, the person, that he was worried about, it was Sara, the person who had been systematically browbeaten by her family into agreeing to carry a surrogate baby for Dan and her inexplicably infertile sister.
‘So, let’s get to the really good news,’ she continued bitterly, with a gesture towards the image frozen on the screen between them. ‘Exhibit A is the scan that not only confirms that there is no evidence of injury to the brood mare’s procreative organs, but also the fact that she’s carrying not one but two babies. Congratulations, Dannyboy! You hit the jackpot first time!’
And even though it brought tears of agony to her eyes to force herself to turn away from him, she made herself to do it, unable to bear looking at those heart-stopping green eyes any longer.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind about the pain relief?’ Rosalie murmured, startling Sara into the realisation that the young woman was still standing there. She’d been so focused on her acrimonious conversation with Dan that for a moment she’d completely forgotten that there was anyone else in the room with them. Not only had the technician heard her swiftly muffled groan of pain when she’d turned away from the man but she’d had a ringside seat for every word that had gone before it. Now, the fact that she was pregnant by her sister’s husband would be food for gossip right around the hospital.
‘Hasn’t anyone given her any analgesia yet?’ Daniel exploded, confirming her suspicion that he was still standing behind her … still gloating over the image of his children, no doubt.
‘I don’t want any unnecessary drugs,’ she snapped. ‘I used the Entonox while they put my shoulder back and stitched me, knowing that was safe for the baby … oh, excuse me, babies. I’m quite capable of deciding for myself if I want or need anything else. Now, please, go away and leave me alone. Shouldn’t you be off duty by now? Zara will be waiting for you,’ she added pointedly.
That thought caused a different pain altogether and was nearly enough to persuade her to accept the drugs on offer. The idea of wiping all the agony away with a swift injection was growing more attractive by the moment. After all, if she was unconscious, she wouldn’t be able to think … wouldn’t have to try to unscramble the images inside her head, the impossible images that were trying to tell her that it had been her own sister who had tried to run her down in that narrow side.
CHAPTER TWO
‘SARA! How could you be so clumsy? Your dress is ruined!’ her mother exclaimed in horror as she followed her into her hotel bedroom.
Sara hid a grim smile of satisfaction as she unceremoniously stripped the torn dress off and kicked the revolting garment towards the bin in the corner of the room. Even in a crumpled heap in the shadows the colour was offensive and from the first horrified moment she’d seen it she’d realised exactly why her sister had chosen it, and had been determined to thwart her plan. Even if today was her sister’s wedding, she had no intention of being made a laughing-stock in front of all their friends and family … and especially, she admitted guiltily, in front of Dan.
‘I’ll just have to step down from being a bridesmaid,’ she said logically, putting Plan A into action even as her mother hurried across to retrieve the expensive dress to examine the extent of the damage. It wouldn’t be nearly so hard to stand in the background while she tried to hide her emotions from everyone else; to hide the fact that she desperately longed to be the one standing beside Dan—the man she loved—exchanging their vows. Zara was the twin accustomed to standing in the limelight and putting on the face that the rest of the world expected to see. ‘It won’t take me long to put my smart suit on,’ she continued, refusing to think about anything beyond the immediate situation. ‘I’ll catch up with the rest of you downstairs before the ceremony starts.’
‘You can’t!’ her mother wailed, wringing her hands. ‘You’ve got to be Zara’s bridesmaid. You’re her only sister … her twin! What would everybody think?’
‘Does it really matter what they think? ‘Sara asked with her head in the wardrobe, already reaching for the black silk suit she’d chosen as an elegant alternative to the burnt-orange meringue her sister would have had her wear.
The thing that had amazed her was that her mother had apparently been oblivious to what had been going on right under her nose while the attendant’s clothes had been chosen for the wedding party. She’d commented approvingly about the clever idea of a colour theme graduating from the creamy ivory of the bride’s dress through various shades of gold and topaz for the dresses her wraith-thin modelling friends would wear, but how could she not have seen that both the colour and the style Zara had decreed for Sara’s dress were an abomination that did absolutely nothing for her second daughter’s colouring or more rounded shape?
And as for the hairstyle … Sara’s eyes flicked towards the mirror, her glance taking in the simple severity of the swept-back style that would have complemented the fine lines of her face if it hadn’t also revealed the imperfection of the scar her sister had inflicted on her so long ago.
The fact that her mother was oblivious to everything but that things should be exactly as her beautiful daughter wanted was an old hurt that was unlikely to go away any time soon.
There’s none so blind as them that will not see, she could hear her grandmother say darkly, and Sara smiled, remembering that the indomitable old woman she’d adored had been one of the few who had seen straight through Zara. Granny Walker had been the person who had always known when her younger granddaughter had been practising her wiles and had taken no nonsense, especially when Sara had been the butt of Zara’s machinations.
‘You’re not wearing black to your sister’s wedding,’ her mother pronounced as she whipped the hanger out of Sara’s hand and angrily flung the contents onto the bed. ‘There must be something we can do with your dress. It’s a designer original. The man did it specially … as a favour to Zara because she’s his favourite model.’
Sara knew without question that there was no way she was ever going to be able to wear that dreadful dress again. She’d made certain of that when she’d decided exactly what damage she was going to do to it. As far as she was concerned, everything about the dress was proof that the designer must have detested her sister … maybe even the whole female half of the world’s population.
‘How about this?’ she suggested as she switched to Plan B and took out the dress that had been hanging in the wardrobe just waiting for the right moment. ‘I was going to change into this after the photos. Do you remember it?
It was an evening dress of your mother’s, from before Nana married Granddad. I thought that if I wore it for part of the day, it would be almost as if she were here, too.’
The dress was simplicity itself and while the fluid silk looked nothing special draped over a hanger, once she was wearing it, the rich honey-coloured fabric was so supple that it looked as if it had been poured over her curves with a delicate hand.
‘Oh, darling …’ As she’d hoped, her mother caught her breath at the sentimental idea and when she reached out a tentative hand to stroke the fabric, Sara knew that she had won the first skirmish.
‘Shall we see if it fits me well enough?’ she suggested, already knowing what the answer was going to be—the dress fitted her as if it had been made for her. This battle plan had been worked out in every detail, knowing that it was the only way she was going to outwit her spiteful sister. ‘I remember you told me once that my hair is exactly the same colour as Nana’s was.’ Unlike Zara’s, which had been lightened season by season until it was now at least half a dozen shades paler than Sara’s dark blonde.
Her mother was quite misty-eyed as she helped Sara into the substitute dress, trying not to disturb either her hair or her make-up, and when she stood beside her in front of the mirror and had to resort to biting her lip so that she wouldn’t cry and ruin her own mascara, Sara knew that the battle was won. There was just the matter of teasing out a few ‘accidental’ tendrils of hair to camouflage the twisted line of scarring that pulled her eyebrow up at an angle …
‘Whatever you do, don’t catch this one on the doorhandle,’ her mother warned with a sniff into her lacy handkerchief as she bustled towards the door. ‘I’ll just go and make sure that everyone else is ready. Zara’s hairdresser was just putting the finishing touches once her veil went on when you had your accident. We don’t want to keep dear Danny waiting any longer.’
With those few words, the taste of victory over what she would wear was ashes in Sara’s mouth. What did it matter how much better she looked in her grandmother’s dress, or that her ugly scar was hidden? Dan probably wouldn’t even notice she was there; he wouldn’t have eyes for anyone other than his beautiful bride.
Zara looked like a flawless life-sized porcelain doll, Dan thought as he pushed open the bedroom door and found her lying on their bed.
It was hardly surprising that she’d fallen asleep. He was hours later than usual tonight, but he just hadn’t been able to make himself leave any sooner. The thought that Sara might be stubborn enough to insist on going home, even after such a potentially fatal encounter, had found him hanging around until he’d made certain that she had agreed to spend the night in hospital and was settled into a side ward.
He smiled wryly when he saw how perfectly Zara was posed. It was as if she was expecting her favourite photographer to start clicking away, her hair spread artistically over the pillow and one hand draped elegantly over the edge of the bed. It would almost have been a relief to find her curled up in an untidy ball with creases on her face from the pillow. As it was, sometimes it felt as if he was married to a mannequin, with her face always perfectly made up and never a hair out of place, even on the increasingly rare occasions that they made love.
The heavy sigh took him by surprise and the weight of regret that accompanied it made him feel very guilty.
He’d realised almost as soon as he’d placed the ring on Zara’s finger that he’d made a dreadful mistake, but by then there had been no way out.
Even if he had divorced his new wife, he’d known that there was no way that Sara would have stepped straight into her sister’s shoes … what woman would, especially after the way he’d treated her?
He might only have met Sara a few months earlier, but they’d already admitted to a mutual attraction and had been exploring the possibility of a long-term relationship. For the first time in his life, he’d even found himself wondering about the possibility of marriage in the not-too-distant future.
Then he’d met Zara and discovered the meaning of the words ‘whirlwind courtship', his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground before he’d found himself engaged and caught up in the planning of an uncomfortably high-profile wedding.
Up to that point, their relationship had been conducted largely in secret—at Zara’s insistence that she didn’t want to chance the media intruding—so he hadn’t really noticed that she was such a favourite with her parents. It had only been after their marriage that he’d noticed just how little her family regarded Sara, in spite of the fact that she was now a qualified and highly proficient doctor in a busy A and E department. All their pride was definitely focused on their glamorous, vivacious, younger daughter.
In a strange way, he could even understand it, to a certain extent. He’d certainly been blinded by Zara’s lively attractions when she’d set out to captivate him. What man wouldn’t have been flattered to have such a stunning woman hanging on his every word in such an ego-stroking way?
How could he not have realised that she was all outward show with very little substance beneath it? Why had it taken him so long to recognise that Sara was worth a dozen of her self-centred twin?
Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He was married, and even though he knew it had been one of the worst decisions of his life, he was not a man who broke a promise, so he certainly wouldn’t go back on a solemn vow. He would just have to be content with the fact that Sara had agreed to carry a child for the two of them … two children, in fact, he recalled with a sudden surge of the same incredulous delight that had swamped him when he’d learned of it. Although how Zara would respond when he told her that she would shortly be learning to cope with being a mother to not one but two newborn babies …
‘Zara?’ he called softly, stifling a sigh of resignation. His wife was not going to be in a happy mood when she saw how late it was, even though it had been her sister’s welfare and that of the babies she carried that had caused the delay. She was almost fanatical about preserving her looks with adequate sleep and certainly didn’t like eating at this hour. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, but it was unavoidable. Your sister had a rather …’ He broke off with a puzzled frown.
She hadn’t so much as stirred, even when he’d lowered himself wearily to the edge of the bed. Something rustled as it slid to the floor between the side of the bed and the cabinet—a letter she’d been reading before she’d fallen asleep? Perhaps it was a glamorous new contract she’d wanted to gloat over while she’d waited for him to come home?
He reached out and touched her hand … her curiously lifeless hand.
Suddenly, he switched into doctor mode as all the hairs went up on the back of his neck in a warning that something was seriously wrong.
‘Zara!’ he called sharply as he leant forward to take a closer look at the silent figure. He’d been standing in the doorway wool-gathering for several minutes and only now was he noticing that she was so completely still that she didn’t even seem to be breathing.
‘Zara, wake up!’ he ordered harshly, his fingers automatically searching her wrist to find a pulse. ‘Zara!’ He heard the panic bouncing back at him from the expensively decorated bedroom walls when there was no sign of any rhythm under his fingertips. Was that because his ordinarily rocksteady hands hadn’t stopped shaking from the moment he’d heard that Sara had been knocked down? Frantically, he probed her slender neck and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the reassuring throb of the artery under his fingertips.
It was slower than it should be … much slower … and her skin felt cold and clammy. It was no wonder that he hadn’t been able to see her breathing because her respiration was so shallow as to be almost imperceptible.
But at least she was breathing and her heart was beating, so that gave him precious time to try to make a diagnosis so that he could help her survive whatever had happened to her.
But first …
‘Emergency. Which service do you require?’ said a crisp voice in his ear as he continued to make his examination, trapping the phone in position with one shoulder.
‘Ambulance,’ he said tersely. ‘My wife has had some sort of collapse. Her pulse and respiration are both depressed and her pupils are fixed and dilated.’ He managed to give the operator his address even as he reeled with horror at the possibility that Zara was imminently going into cardiac arrest.
Without some secure means of administering oxygen and the supplies to set up an IV line he had no way of improving her tidal volume or boosting her systolic pressure above 80. At the moment it must hovering around 70 because her femoral pulse was barely perceptible. If it dropped below 60 the carotid pulse would disappear, too, and she would be just minutes away from irreversible brain damage and death …