Nurse In Need

‘I didn’t know you’d applied.’ Amy stopped, feeling suddenly bewildered.

‘I didn’t want to disappoint you if I missed out.’ Amy shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. ‘Are you planning to live in Sydney?’

‘Of course. It’s fantastic, isn’t it? I was intending to surprise you with the news later.’

‘Oh.’ Amy felt a wave of dizziness. ‘I’m surprised, Nigel.’

‘You don’t look very excited.’

‘Where am I supposed to live, Nigel? While you’re living in Sydney?’

Nigel’s smile was contrite. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Amy. You didn’t think I was planning to leave you behind, did you? I have no intention of going until after the wedding, don’t worry. We won’t have to be separated for any length of time.’

‘And this wedding is going to be in October, right?’

‘If that’s what you’d like.’ Nigel was still smiling, pleased at having sorted out the misunderstanding.

‘You mean I get a say in this after all?’

Nigel now looked disconcerted. ‘Maybe we should talk about this later, Amy.’

‘Maybe we should,’ Amy agreed. Maybe it wasn’t just Nigel’s mother who was autocratic and overbearing. Amy felt confused. There was too much she needed to think about and her brain wasn’t functioning nearly as clearly as it had been before that last glass of champagne. ‘Excuse me, Nigel, but I really need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Again?’

Amy took pleasure in ignoring Nigel’s vaguely disapproving tone. She walked out of the drawing room, through the conservatory where she helped herself to a bottle of champagne waiting on the side table. Then she let herself out of the French doors onto a verandah that overlooked the garden. Stepping carefully, Amy negotiated the steps and turned onto a path that she knew led to the summer house.

‘What does he expect?’ Amy muttered to herself. ‘He clicks his fingers and I give up my job and trot off to Sydney?’ She paused to drink champagne and top up her glass. ‘What am I supposed to be? Robo-Wife?’

Maybe Jennifer was right and she shouldn’t marry Nigel. What did he have going for him, apart from being single, successful, usually charming and apparently madly in love with her?

‘Oh, hell.’ Amy took another mouthful of wine. He had quite a lot going for him, really. Was she going to throw it all away because she felt miffed that Nigel hadn’t asked what she’d wanted before letting his mother plan the wedding?

The floodlighting hadn’t been turned on at the summer house but the white paintwork was easy enough to see in the dark. A mossy statue to one side of the garden structure was also just visible. A sort of large garden nymph holding garlands of foliage.

‘Why is it?’ Amy asked the statue, ‘that the things that really matter to me don’t seem to be important to anyone else?’

To Amy’s astonishment, the statue answered her. ‘You tell me,’ it said.

‘It’s because I was never quite good enough,’ Amy told the statue sadly. ‘I was supposed to have been a boy, you know.’

‘Really?’ The statue seemed very interested.

‘Yes.’ Amy drained her glass. ‘My father never got over the disappointment.’

‘Well, he was a bloody idiot, then, wasn’t he?’ The statue was moving. Amy gasped in horror as the figure stepped from the shadows. Even in this dim light she recognised him. He was still wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket. Amy’s gaze travelled up to meet his. She felt that odd physical buzz again. The only eye contact in existence with the ability to caress. There could be no doubt at all, even in her fuzzy state. It was definitely the same man.

‘You’ve been following me around all day,’ Amy said accusingly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I heard there was a party.’

Amy eyed his clothing suspiciously. ‘Were you invited, then?’

The man grinned. ‘No. I’m gatecrashing.’

Amy narrowed her gaze. ‘So why are you out here hiding in the garden, then?’

‘I’m still trying to decide whether I want to go in or not.’ He stepped closer. ‘Do you think I should?’

‘No.’ Amy tilted the bottle towards her glass. ‘It’s not much fun.’ The slosh of champagne missed her glass and foamed over her hand.

‘Here, let me.’ The man took the bottle from her hand and held the glass as he filled it. Then he took a long swallow before setting both the bottle and glass down on the white wrought-iron table. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he took hold of Amy’s hand and wiped it.

‘I’m sorry you’re not having fun,’ he commiserated.

‘So am I,’ Amy agreed wistfully. She looked at her hand. It was dry now but was still being held. Looking up, she found his gaze fixed firmly on her face. His eyes were brown. A lovely, warm, velvety brown. Comforting but disturbing at the same time. ‘Why are you staring at me?’

‘You’re a very attractive woman.’

‘You’ve been staring at me all day.’

‘You’ve been very attractive all day.’

Amy smiled. He didn’t miss a beat. A smooth talker. He was probably very good at kissing, too. Her gaze slid down involuntarily to assess his lips.

‘I’ve been thinking about that myself.’

‘About what?’ Amy murmured. She wasn’t ready to be distracted.

‘About this.’ Smoothly, he moved closer. Bent his head and touched his lips to hers. And there was Amy Brooks, absent without leave from her own engagement party, kissing a total stranger in the summer house. And she had been right. He was very good. Very, very good. Amy didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t care about breathing any more. Who needed air when you had this?

But he did stop. He drew back from her lips slowly. Maybe he didn’t really want to stop either.

‘Sent from heaven is right,’ he said in awed tones. The soft brown gaze was locked on Amy again. ‘You are an angel.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Must be something in the air. I hear that Nigel is announcing his engagement to some poor woman tonight.’

The observation had all the effect of a cold shower. ‘He is,’ Amy confirmed curtly. ‘And I’m the poor woman.’

The man let go of her as if he’d been burnt. He took a step back. ‘What the hell were you kissing me for, then?’

‘I wasn’t,’ Amy denied hotly. ‘You were kissing me.’

‘You let me.’

‘So it’s all my fault?’ Amy queried sweetly. ‘Typical!’

‘You must be mad,’ the man told her.

‘Why, because I let you kiss me? I might be inclined to agree with you there, mate.’

‘Because you’re planning to marry Nigel Wesley.’ The gaze, still fixed on Amy, darkened. He actually looked angry. ‘What’s the attraction?’ he asked unpleasantly. ‘Money?’

‘Of course not,’ Amy snapped. ‘And it’s none of your business.’ He wasn’t the only one who could get angry. ‘Just what gives you the right to express opinions on something you know absolutely nothing about?’ Amy snorted incredulously. ‘What is it about me? Even a perfect stranger thinks he can tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing.’ Amy snatched up the bottle of champagne and her glass.

‘Stay out of it,’ she ordered imperiously. ‘And stop…’ She glanced over her shoulder, causing her progress down the path to weave quite dramatically. ‘Stop staring at me.’

Amy sailed back into the house, through the conservatory towards the drawing room. Jennifer was standing in the breakfast nook near the entrance to the kitchen. A waiter stood beside her holding a large silver tray covered with bite-sized savouries.

‘What’s in the little round ones?’ Jennifer was asking.

‘Satay chicken.’ The waiter seemed to be enjoying the attention.

‘And the triangles?’

‘Sun-dried tomatoes, feta cheese and olives.’

‘Have you found Noel yet?’ Amy asked Jennifer.

‘No, but I forgive you anyway, Amy. These things are delicious. Have some satay chicken.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ Amy stated. She eyed the mass of humanity visible through the double doors of the drawing room. Nigel’s face appeared. He frowned at Amy. Amy sighed loudly.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jennifer spoke around a mouthful of filo pastry. She grabbed another savoury from the platter as the waiter moved towards the door. He nearly collided with Nigel.

‘Amy, where on earth have you been? Lorraine’s waiting to make the announcement.’

‘I’m sure she can wait a bit longer,’ Amy said evenly. ‘Or is it getting a bit close to dawn?’

Jennifer sputtered over the remains of her pastry. Nigel’s frown deepened.

‘What?’ His expression changed to one of calculation. ‘How much have you had to drink tonight, Amy?’

‘Not much,’ Amy lied. ‘In fact, I think I’ll have some more.’ She reached out and collected a full crystal flute from the silver tray another waiter was taking into the gathering. Goodness knows what she’d done with the bottle and glass she’d been holding a few minutes ago.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ Nigel told her.

‘Amy’s quite capable of deciding when she’s had enough to drink,’ Jennifer informed Nigel.

‘That’s right.’ Amy nodded. ‘To tell the truth, I’m getting a little bit fed up with other people deciding things on my behalf.’

‘Good for you, Amy,’ Jennifer said encouragingly.

‘Yes, good for you,’ a voice echoed.

Amy swivelled sharply. There he was again! In the kitchen!

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Nigel queried coldly.

‘That’s just what I was going to ask,’ Amy said in surprise.

‘Shut up, Amy.’ Nigel was glaring at the intruder.

‘I beg your pardon? You can’t speak to me like that, Nigel.’

The man nodded calmly. ‘Damned right he can’t. You tell him, Amy.’

Jennifer grinned at the stranger. ‘I think I like you,’ she announced.

The catering staff had all paused in their tasks. They were staring openly at the scene unfolding before them in the breakfast room.

Nigel took hold of Amy’s arm. ‘Come with me,’ he ordered curtly.

‘No,’ Amy protested but her legs were too wobbly to cooperate. She found herself being pulled across the hallway and into the throng of guests. Her support team had vanished. She was in enemy territory again. Gaps appeared in the crowd as Nigel moved purposefully forward. Greetings and conversational openings were acknowledged merely by a brisk nod from Nigel. Then the progress halted abruptly. Nigel’s registrar, Noel Fenton, was standing in front of them.

‘Noel,’ Amy said happily. ‘Jen’s been looking for you.’

‘Jen? Who’s Jen?’

‘Never mind,’ Nigel snapped. ‘Listen, Noel. Amy needs to go home. She’s over-indulged a little. Can I leave it to you to—?’

‘Jennifer Bowman, my flatmate,’ Amy told Noel earnestly. ‘She’s very keen to meet you and I promised—’

‘Amy!’ Nigel gave her arm a shake.

Amy jerked away from his hand. ‘Don’t shake me, Nigel,’ she warned sharply. ‘And don’t tell me to shut up again either.’

Lorraine glided into view. Her voice was deceptively light. ‘Goodness me! What is going on?’

‘I’ll tell you,’ Amy volunteered. ‘Nigel thinks I’m a sort of puppet. He can shake me and I’ll do whatever he thinks I should do.’

‘Nigel?’ Lorraine’s tone carried a distinct ‘please explain’ message. Amy was delighted to see the composure crack.

‘Nigel thinks I’m going to live in Sydney,’ she told Lorraine. ‘He thinks my job doesn’t matter a damn and I’ll just give it up. Just like that!’ Amy tried to click her fingers but the result was unsatisfyingly muted. She tried again.

Lorraine glanced around them. Several nearby people had fallen silent and were pretending not to be watching. She gave an apologetic laugh. ‘Really, Amy. I think you might be overreacting.’

‘You would think that,’ Amy agreed. ‘But you’re just as bad as he is. You’ve even got my wedding all planned and you didn’t bother talking to me about it, did you?’

More people were listening. The first group had given up any pretence of not being fascinated. They had been joined by Jennifer and the stranger in the leather jacket.

‘I have an announcement to make.’ Amy took a breath, hoping that the loud buzzing in her head might dissipate. She handed her glass to Noel who looked like he was trying his best not to smile.

‘I’m not going to marry you, Nigel,’ Amy said loudly. ‘I’d rather…’ She paused as a wave of dizziness threatened her upright posture.

‘Go, Amy!’ Jen crowed.

Amy smiled lopsidedly. ‘I’d rather go home and stick needles in my eyes,’ she told Nigel.

‘Definitely preferable,’ the stranger agreed. He and Jen exchanged a grin.

‘Going home is certainly a good idea,’ Nigel said coldly. ‘I’ll drive you myself.’

‘No way!’ Amy wagged a finger at Nigel. ‘You’re not doing anything for me, Nigel Wesley.’ She could feel herself swaying. ‘You know what I think you should do, Nigel?’ Amy didn’t wait for a response. Her voice rose triumphantly and she enunciated with dramatic deliberation. ‘I think you should marry your mother!’

Only Amy seemed to find this funny. The silence in the room was now absolute. Even the string quartet in the conservatory had stopped providing any background music. Jennifer and her companion exchanged another glance. Then the man stepped forward.

‘Time to go, Amy,’ he suggested firmly.

Before she could make any kind of protest, Amy found herself swept up in the man’s arms. He turned and strode out of the room. For the first time Amy became aware of the amount of attention she had drawn to herself. Shocked and disapproving faces seemed to be turned on her from every direction.

‘Oh, no!’ Amy moaned. She buried her face in the leather-covered shoulder, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck to make her defensive position more secure.

‘What have I done?’

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