Judy Campbell - The Doctor's Longed-for Bride

There was no doubt that Jack’s abrupt departure without explanation had hurt. He’d been a comforting link with Damian. She’d thought their mutual support system had helped them both—he’d been like a rock when Damian had had to go abroad and sort out the old family business, a shoulder to cry on, in fact. In turn, he’d talked to her about his little girl, and the difficulties involved in being a widower with a child. They’d worked together at the large casualty department at St Mary’s hospital, thirty miles from the infirmary, and Frankie was sure she’d developed a close and relaxed friendship with him. After all, she was going to be a part of his family in that she was marrying his brother-in-law. It had been a slap in the face when he’d just disappeared without even the courtesy of a goodbye.

She gave a mental shrug of dismissal as Corey’s voice broke into her thoughts. All that was history—she was at another hospital now and only concerned with the present and what Damian had written to her.

‘Now, let me see this letter—looks as if it’s upset you,’ said Corey.

Frankie held it out. ‘You’ll see why when you read it, but I’d rather the whole department didn’t know yet.’

Corey looked scornfully at her friend. ‘As if,’ she protested. ‘You know me better than that.’

Her eyes widened as she scanned the sheet of paper, then she put down the letter and whistled softly, shaking her head and looking in disbelief at Frankie. ‘Oh, God, Frankie, I don’t believe this—he must be mad! He can’t mean all that about not wanting to be engaged any more,’ she added vehemently. ‘He loved you, wanted to marry you. There must be some reason for him to break it off so suddenly.’

Frankie shrugged, and although she tried to keep her voice light, there was a bitter edge to her words. ‘I thought he loved me, too. When he came over he gave me the impression that he couldn’t bear to leave me…’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I must have missed something, mustn’t I?’

Corey looked at her friend, full of sympathy. ‘Why didn’t he tell you when he was over here? Too bloody cowardly by half. He left it until he’d gone back—the rat!’

‘Perhaps he was just trying to do the right thing by me,’ said Francesca flatly. ‘He won’t be back for at least a year and maybe he doesn’t want to tie me down for all that time…’

‘Tie himself down more like,’ said Corey cynically. ‘What do you really think, Frankie?’

Frankie stared down at the letter on the table in front of her then looked up at Corey. ‘I think you’re right,’ she admitted. ‘It’s him that wants to be free, although he doesn’t mention that there’s anyone else. Anyway, what’s the point of being engaged to someone if they don’t love you any more? I would like to know the truth, though—why he’s suddenly dumped me…’

She felt tears pressing against her eyes and took a long drink to quell the telltale sobs that threatened to choke her. Corey was right—why hadn’t he had the guts to tell her when they had been together? She felt a hollow empty feeling of rejection coupled with a gathering anger that he’d never hinted that his feelings for her might have changed. It was all so sudden, out of the blue.

‘What will you do?’ asked Corey, putting her arm round Frankie and hugging her comfortingly.

Frankie pulled a snapshot out of her pocket and scanned it bleakly. ‘I can’t kill the man,’ she said in an attempt at humour, ‘but I’m going to have to put him out of my mind somehow…’

Corey looked over her shoulder at the picture. ‘Yeah—he’s drop-dead gorgeous all right, but he must be a moron to let someone like you go.’ She scanned Frankie’s heart-shaped face, framed by thick chestnut hair, and grinned at her. ‘It’s my bet that within the year another twenty men will be after you!’

Frankie tightened her lips and tore the photo into little pieces. ‘I doubt it, Corey, and I can tell you that at this moment in time the last thing I’ll be searching for is a man…what’s the point? You give your heart to someone—and for what? You’re rejected with no reason given, no warning. It’s as if you might never even have existed, the past years wiped out, forgotten about…’

Corey took Frankie’s hands and squeezed them. ‘Darling Frankie, don’t let him get you down…you’re worth so much more than he is!’

She smiled at Frankie who even managed a watery smile in return. ‘Don’t worry,’ Frankie said staunchly. ‘I hope I’m made of sterner stuff than that…’

But it was going to be tough, she reflected as she watched the other people in the pub—so many of them with partners, laughing and happy. It was hard to imagine that any of them were feeling quite as desolate as she was at that moment.

A sudden bellow of noise in the room and a certain commotion around the bar made both girls spin round. The landlord, a big burly man, was pushing his way purposefully through the jostling crowd, a warning finger held up.

His angry voice floated over towards them. ‘You can stop that here and now—I won’t have brawling in my pub! Put that bottle down!’

There was a sound of shouting and scuffling. Corey groaned. ‘Oh, no, we have enough of this at work. What the hell’s going on?’

‘Who suggested we should go and have a quiet drink after work?’ murmured Frankie sardonically. ‘Perhaps next time we’ll go to the café on the high street for a nice cup of tea…’

A chair was thrown against the bar, and a scream came from a woman in the little knot of onlookers. Then there was a general intake of breath as someone fell to the floor and two or three men began to wrestle with a tall youth in a black leather jacket and shaven head. Gradually he was manhandled to the wall and pinned against it with his arms behind his back. The figure on the floor lay still.

‘I only tapped him one,’ shouted the youth. ‘It was just a tickle—no reason for him to go down. He was threatening me with a bottle… He’s dead drunk, out for the count.’

Frankie’s eyes met Corey’s in humorous exasperation. ‘Here we go—sounds rather familiar doesn’t it?’ she murmured. ‘Better go and look, I suppose.’

They pushed their way through the small crowd of gawping customers, and Frankie said quietly to the landlord, who was bending down by the fallen man with two other people. ‘I’m a doctor and my friend’s a nurse—perhaps we’d better see how this man is if you’d just let us through…’

The landlord looked at her with relief and stepped back. ‘Thank God—I’d be grateful. This is the last thing I need. No decent punters want to come to a place where brawls are happening. The police and ambulance are on their way—but Lord knows how long they’ll be.’ He glanced down at the supine figure before him. ‘This guy looks as if he’s had a skinful—completely blotto. What do you think?’

The young man had started groaning, his eyes fluttering in a grey-tinged face and his limbs moving restlessly from side to side.

‘He’s still with us at any rate,’ said Frankie, and squatted down beside him, holding his wrist to take his pulse, touching his forehead with her hand. She looked up at the curious onlookers. ‘Anyone know this man’s name?’

‘Gary Hemp,’ shouted someone.

‘Right, Gary,’ said Frankie, bending low over the man. ‘Can you hear me?’

Gary muttered something unintelligible, and Frankie pulled down his lower eyelid to look at his pupils. ‘No reaction,’ she murmured. ‘He’s sweating and his heart rate’s up.’ She looked up at Corey, frowning. ‘But something doesn’t add up here. Did you see where he was hit?’ she asked the landlord, who was now standing over her with folded arms and pursed lips.