Saving Willowbrook (13 page)

That wouldn't be easy. Her daughter was no fool.

Ella waited until Amy was sitting down with a glass of milk and a home-made biscuit, and the flow of talk about the day had died down. ‘I've got something to tell you.'

‘Oh?' Amy looked at her expectantly.

‘Your father wants to see you. He's coming down on Saturday.'

Amy frowned and began to trace a pattern in the crumbs on her plate, moving them into a pile, then scattering them instead of dabbing them up with a wet finger.

Ella waited, allowing time for the news to sink in, waiting for the difficult questions to start.

‘Why?'

‘He says he wants to see you.' For the life of her, she couldn't say Miles did want to see Amy, because she was sure it'd be a lie.

‘He didn't want to see me before, so I don't want to see him now. Tell him not to come.'

‘I can't do that. Fathers have rights. The rule is that they can see their children if they want to.'

An even longer silence, then, ‘Don't children have rights too?'

‘I can ask Mr Hannow, but I think you'll have to give your father a chance.'

‘I don't want to.'

‘I don't want him to come, either, but sometimes we have to do things we don't want, you know that.'

‘There was a father on the television who killed his children because he was mad at their mother. Is my father mad at you?'

She blinked in shock. Had Amy remembered that old news item all these months? ‘No, of course he isn't. And
your
father would never do something like that. The man you heard about on TV was sick in the head, wasn't thinking properly. I told you so at the time.'

‘My father was mad at you that day he came back for his clothes. I can remember him shouting at you.'

‘Do you remember all that time ago?'

Amy nodded vigorously.

‘Well, he's not mad at me now, not like that anyway. He and I don't agree about things, but he's not the sort to go round attacking people, I promise you.'

‘I still don't want to go out with him.'

‘You're not going anywhere. He's coming here. You can show him your room and your cubby house in the barn, and walk round the lake with him.'

Amy scowled and shoved her plate suddenly sideways, sending crumbs scattering. ‘We'd invited Nessa over to play on Saturday.'

‘I'd forgotten. But she can come on Sunday instead.'

‘He's spoiling things already. Me an' Nessa were going to play fairies.' After a moment's thought, she added, ‘I'm not going to speak to him, whatever you say.'

And no matter how much Ella tried to reason with her, the child stuck to this. Hopefully Miles's charm would work on his daughter. Almost immediately, Ella hoped it wouldn't.

And she still hadn't heard from the bank, so couldn't tell him anything definite about repaying the loan. Trust him to change his mind and want his money back before the agreed date! Well, he'd have to wait. Surely he'd not sell out his daughter's home from under her?

She'd made an appointment to see Ian Hannow the next day, couldn't decide anything till she knew where she stood.

How badly did Miles need the money?

Oliver went into the surgery on Friday morning to start getting used to how things were run. It was such a small practice they only had a part-time office manager, and it was one of Jackie's days for working. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, but he had to get back to work again sometime, and being a doctor was all he knew, all he'd ever wanted. Being any sort of doctor was better than nothing.

The counsellor Oliver had seen in the States had said it was up to him when he started work again and if he'd had the choice, he'd have taken a few more weeks off. But his father had made it plain that he was needed as soon as possible, because the locum who'd been filling in had had to leave early.

The trouble was, Oliver hadn't told his family the full details of what had happened or how badly he'd been affected by the incident.

Well, he'd manage somehow. How hard could it be after A&E work? The traumas, violence, drug misuse and accidents he'd seen daily would be rare occurrences in a small country practice, he was sure. There was a much bigger practice on the other side of the village, but some people preferred the old-fashioned personal care that his father still offered. Not that his father didn't keep up to date with medical developments and the way services were offered. He did.

So, Oliver thought as he walked into the surgery, gun-toting customers would be non-existent here, surely? He would manage.

Jackie was the same as ever, permanently middle-aged, not seeming to have changed at all physically in the past decade. She treated him like the youth he had been when he first met her, but she could answer everything he asked about the practice, speaking as quietly as ever. He'd forgotten how soothing her voice was.

‘I hope you're starting next week,' she said. ‘Dr Paige is too old to work that hard and really needs your help.'

Oliver hesitated, then said, ‘I suppose I can start then.'

She began to fiddle with her pencil, avoiding his eyes. ‘Your father told me what happened. No one else knows, but he thought I should be aware of it.'

‘Oh.' Oliver hadn't wanted anyone outside the family to know, which was irrational. It wasn't as if it had been his fault, just bad luck, so why he felt so guilty about it, he didn't know – except he'd always managed to control situations with difficult patients before.

‘Shall we give you a few simple cases tomorrow morning, so that you can get used to our system?' She grinned. ‘I'll pick out some of our repeat offenders for you. As for the rest, we may be small but we're quite up-to-date as regards computerized records and prescriptions.'

He took a deep breath. ‘Yes. Whatever you think best.'

‘I'll come in tomorrow morning to help you get started.'

‘There's no need. You don't usually work on Saturdays.'

She smiled. ‘This practice is my baby as well as your father's, so bear with me on that, Oliver. If you're half as good a doctor as your father, you'll be a big asset to the place. This locum was – a minimalist.'

After Oliver had gone into the consulting room which was to be his, he sat and worked through the notes and practised on the computer program. It wasn't hard to deal with, had been well designed. What was hard for him was the feeling of being shut in. It was a small room, too small for him, especially with the door closed.

He held on for as long as he could, then had to get outside, just . . . had to. He took refuge underneath the old oak tree at the back, which he'd played in as a lad, hoping no one had seen him rush out. Crossing his arms around himself, he took deep, gulping breaths of fresh air and waited for the panic to subside.

Oh hell, he thought, what if this happens when I'm with a patient?

On Friday morning, Ella went into Chawton to do her weekly shopping and see her lawyer.

Ian listened with his usual intense concentration as she explained what had happened.

‘We can set things in train to claim maintenance payments from him, if that'll help. Back payments are rather iffy. Is he earning good money?'

‘I should think so. He usually does.'

‘Then you should get a decent amount. Tell me more about your daughter and what she needs at this stage.'

She tried to explain, got upset and shed a few rare tears as he probed about the medical details: physiotherapy, walking aids, specialist appointments which cost quite a lot, money for travel. Afterwards she sat staring down at her hands, feeling gutted. She didn't usually let herself give in to her feelings, tried to concentrate on the positive things in life, but no mother of a child with disabilities could help being upset by it sometimes.

Only, other mothers usually had husbands to share the pain.

Ian shoved a tissue across the desk at her. ‘You really should have asked your husband for maintenance when he left you. Amy was and is entitled to financial support from him.'

‘We agreed that I'd not make a claim if he didn't ask for repayment of the loan.'

‘An official agreement?'

‘No.'

‘Not wise.'

Ella sighed and fumbled in her bag, holding out the soft leather pouch. ‘There's this. You helped me sell some things before. Can you find out what this is worth, do you think? I can't see how I'll avoid selling it and I don't know where to start to get the best price. You were so helpful last time . . .'

‘Comes of having a cousin who owns a jeweller's shop.' He held out his hand and took Jane Turner's necklace from her, whistling softly at the size of the stones. ‘Rich colour and I can't see any flaws. If these are as good as they look, the necklace could be quite valuable. Given its age, you might be better offering it for sale at a specialist auction for antique jewellery. I'm sure my cousin will give us the best advice on that, especially when I explain the circumstances.'

She was sure ‘the circumstances' would include Amy's problems and that pity would help her case. She hated people feeling sorry for her, but couldn't afford to let her pride stand in the way of a solution, not now. ‘Whatever you think best.'

She felt upset as she walked away from his rooms. She didn't want to claim money from Miles and she didn't want to sell the necklace, didn't even like taking it away from Willowbrook.

And most of all, she didn't want her ex in their lives again.

On Friday afternoon Cameron returned and Ella felt a thrill of pleasure at the sight of his car. He looked healthy, sane and confident, which weren't the adjectives she'd normally have applied as measures of a man's attractiveness, but they seemed intrinsic to this man. And those qualities pleased her.

He opened the boot and took out something bulky that was carefully wrapped, stopping on the way to the house to speak to Amy. He made the child laugh as he bent to look at her toys, even examining the new pink fairy wings which she wore at every opportunity, incongruous as they were with a pair of sturdy jeans and the missing front teeth. Then he leaned closer to give her a peep under the wrapping paper and they both beamed at one another.

If only Miles was like that with his daughter. Ella cut off that thought abruptly.

The kitchen door was open so she called out to come in and was suddenly taken by a fit of shyness. What to say? What to expect?

As Cameron smiled at her from across the room, her anxiety faded. Such a warm smile, he had. Oh, dear! He was altogether too attractive.

‘Ta da!' He removed the covering with a flourish and presented her with a huge hanging basket of flowers just coming into bloom.

‘I thought you'd prefer this to a bouquet. It'll last much longer and I saw you had a hook on the wall just outside the kitchen door.'

For a moment she had trouble speaking. How long was it since a man gave her a present? ‘It's beautiful. And yes, I do prefer it to a bouquet. But you shouldn't have.'

‘I couldn't resist it. Shall we hang it up?'

She followed him outside and Amy got up to join them, watching solemnly as Cameron hung the basket near the kitchen door.

‘It's pretty. I like the pink flowers best.'

‘Pink's her favourite colour,' Ella explained. ‘And the basket is really beautiful, perfect for that spot. Thank you so much.'

Amy nodded several times in agreement, her eyes on Cameron not the basket. Then she said suddenly, ‘Did Daddy ever buy you flowers, Mummy?'

Ella could feel herself flushing. ‘Er – no.' Not after their first few weeks together, anyway.

‘Nessa's new daddy buys her mummy flowers all the time. Her mummy's face goes all red when he gives them to her.'

‘Ladies like flowers,' Cameron said solemnly. ‘Perhaps your father didn't know that.'

‘Other daddies know. Mine is coming to see me on Saturday, but I'm not going to speak to him. I don't like him. He hasn't been to see us since I was little and we don't want him here now.'

Ella could feel herself blushing. ‘Amy, Mr O'Neal doesn't want to hear about that.'

Cameron grinned at her. ‘It's all right. I have a niece who is similarly frank.' He turned back to the child. ‘I have something for you, too. It's a little parcel wrapped in pink paper on the back seat of the car. Why don't you fetch it?'

Amy hurried off and they went back inside.

‘You shouldn't have,' Ella said softly.

‘I wanted to. It's only a box of chocolates. I remember her saying she gets a bar of chocolate every Saturday for a treat. I hope you don't mind me buying it for her?'

‘Not at all.' Mind! She was touched by it. He was far too kind for her peace of mind.

Amy came back clutching the parcel and got out the scissors, cutting the sticky tape carefully. Tongue sticking out slightly from one corner of her mouth, she unwrapped the package. ‘I'm going to keep this paper, it's so pretty. Oh! Chocolates! A proper box.' She beamed at him. ‘Thank you very much, Mr O'Neal. I'm going to save them to share with my friend Nessa on Sunday. Can I ring her and tell her about my present, Mummy?'

‘Five minutes. Put the timer on.'

She nodded and hurried away.

Ella felt obliged to explain. ‘We can't have the phone tied up in case someone is trying to ring and book a chalet.'

He nodded. ‘Can you do me a meal tonight? I know it's short notice, but—'

‘Yes, of course I can.'