Marion Lennox - Prescription-One Husband

He checked Maud with deft precision. Fern nodded silently to herself. This man didn’t leave anything to chance-or to the monitors. He felt Maud’s pulse and took her blood pressure, then checked each monitor lead. Then, almost as an afterthought, Quinn turned the pencil light torch he’d been holding to shine down at Fern.

‘I’m not asleep,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not completely untrustworthy.’

He smiled, then, his smile almost tender in the soft light of the torch.

‘I never thought you were, Dr Rycroft,’ he said gently. ‘But your aunt is my patient. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I’d love one,’ Fern smiled. She pushed back the bedcovers and Quinn’s eyes widened as he saw her blouse and jeans.

‘What, no nightie, Dr Rycroft? Dressed for escape, then, are we?’

‘If you like.’ Fern’s voice tightened.

‘I wouldn’t worry about indecent advances by the night staff.’ Quinn smiled. ‘Your beloved’s only a scream away. In fact, I would have thought you’d know that. Has he been keeping you awake?’

‘He’s not my beloved,’ Fern said crossly. ‘I…Is he all right?’

‘No.’ Quinn shook his head. ‘He’s not all right. Mr Reid has been ill again and rude enough to disturb Mr Hubert’s sleep. Mr Hubert seems to think he’d like a private room-or at least have Mr Reid shifted out into the corridor. Very tetchy he’s been when I’ve suggested he take himself off to his own bed if he didn’t like it here.’

‘He’s…he’s upset,’ Fern said miserably. ‘Sam’s not always so unreasonable.’

‘I’d assumed that,’ Quinn nodded. ‘If he’s half as bad as I think he is then you’ve been granted a last-minute reprieve from death by boredom. Still, I have to assume you know what you’re doing, Dr Rycroft.’

‘Good.’ Fern gritted her teeth. ‘Look, forget the cup of tea…’ This wasn’t a big hospital with kitchen staff on call.

‘It’s already made,’ he smiled. ‘If you’re as awake as I think you are, come out on the verandah and drink it.’

‘But…’ Fern looked doubtfully down at her sleeping aunt.

‘Maud’s growing stronger by the minute,’ Quinn assured her. ‘You must be able to feel it yourself.’ He flicked a switch above the bed and a soft, dim light shone across Maud’s face. It wasn’t enough to disturb Maud’s deep sleep but it showed them both her improving colour. ‘Now, through those French windows is the verandah and it’s a lovely night. I’ll bring tea round there and we’ll leave the windows open and be able to watch Maud while we drink it.’

‘But…won’t we disturb S…Mr Reid?’

‘You mean, won’t your Sam hear us and demand to know what the heck’s going on?’ Quinn’s teeth flashed with laughter as he shook his head. ‘Their window’s round the corner and your Sam insisted it be closed because he’s allergic to draughts or some such nonsense. Which leaves us alone. An assignation with an engaged woman in the wee small hours…What could be better? What a pity I didn’t put the champagne on ice…’

‘But…’

‘No more buts.’ Quinn Gallagher put a finger on her lips and pressed her mouth firmly closed. ‘Meet me in five minutes below the window,’ he grinned. ‘Should I bring my ladder-or will you let down your hair?’

Despite herself, Fern heard herself give a low chuckle in response. This man was ridiculous.

This man was dangerous.

The thought flashed through her mind with the clarity of white light. It almost made her gasp.

‘No. I…’

It was too late. Quinn was already striding toward the door, his back turned to her.

‘Five minutes,’ he said over his shoulder as he reached the door. Five minutes to your date with doom…

This was ridiculous.

Fern pushed back the bedclothes completely and checked Maud once again. Her check was unnecessary. Quinn’s examination two minutes before had been thorough enough.

She didn’t want to sit on the verandah and drink tea with this unknown doctor. Why on earth should she?

Because she badly wanted a drink and she also wanted to stretch her legs. It made sense.

So?

‘So have a cup of tea with the man,’ she muttered angrily to herself. ‘It hardly means anything.’

If it hardly meant anything, why were her knees like jelly?

There was no need for her knees to shake.

The tea on the verandah was innocent in the extreme. Fern and Quinn sat in comfortable cane chairs, a wicker table between them, and sipped tea as if it was midafternoon and Fern was paying a social call

It was ridiculous.

It was also a great way to break the tension.

Over her teacup Fern caught Quinn’s eye and her mouth twitched into laughter.

His eyes laughed right back.

‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you a cucumber sandwich,’ he grinned. ‘The maid’s off duty.’

‘It’s a lack,’ Fern said sadly, ‘but I can make do.’

‘I thought of wearing a frilly apron and starched cap myself.’ Quinn’s mournful tone exactly matched hers. ‘But try as I might I can’t convince myself that frills become me. I make a much better butler. If you’d like to go round to the front door and ring the bell I’ll show you my true butling style. Mind, at three in the morning I’ll probably ask icily for your calling card and see you off the premises.’

Fern choked.

There was silence again but this time the silence was comfortable. Something was fitting round Fern like a lovely, comforting cloak.

Something that she’d never felt before…

She finished her tea slowly, glancing back into Maud’s room every few moments as she sipped. Finally, reluctantly, she finished her cup, placing it back on the wicker table, and rose.

Strangely she was loath to move. This night was her wedding night-and she was on the verandah of another man’s house feeling that here was someone who…

Stop it, Fern! Stop it!

What was her errant mind thinking? She was crazy!

‘Thank you…Thank you for the tea,’ she said stiffly. ‘I should go back in…’

And then she stopped as something wet and cold touched her ankle.

Fern stepped back in surprise and looked down.

She was wearing sandals and her ankles were exposed. Nuzzling the bare skin above her feet was a tiny wallaby, only half-grown.

‘For heaven’s sake…’

Fern knelt down. The tiny creature showed not the least fear. He transferred his nose to Fern’s hand and nuzzled these strange new smells with equal interest.

‘Where did you come from?’ Fern asked with delight. She looked up at Quinn. ‘Is he a pet?’

‘No.’ Quinn was smiling down at her, the warmth in his eyes directed at Fern rather than the wallaby. He leaned over and scooped up the little creature. ‘This is one of Jessie’s babies and he’s getting very bold in his old age.’

‘Old age!’

‘He’s been here four months. He’s practically a grown-up now.’

Quinn walked over to the edge of the verandah. Hanging from the rail was a wide woollen pouch which looked very like a sweater with the neck and arms sewn up. It was looped over the verandah rail at such a position that the tiny wallaby could jump in or out whenever he chose.

Quinn tucked the little creature inside. The joey squirmed in a wriggling mass of heaving sweater and gangly limbs-and then his eyes peeped out once again.

‘It’s too early to sleep,’ his eyes seemed to be saying. ‘If you two are chatting, why can’t I?’

Quinn grinned and with two fingers gently pushed the damp little nose down. Like a jack in the box, the nose sprang straight back up.

‘He’s starting to guess he’s a nocturnal animal,’ Quinn smiled. ‘Someone brought him to Jess after they hit his mum with a car. She’s been hand-feeding him-but she’s started putting him out here at night so he can get used to a bit of night grazing.’