Rachel Lindsay - Love and Dr Forrest Read online

  Deborah Redwood had still not put in an appearance, and although curious to know where she was, Lesley did not like to ask any of the nurses. She almost asked Axel Berteau but envisaged his. indignation at what he would consider inquisitiveness regarding the private life of his chief.

  At the end of the week Bobby was allowed up, and he plaintively demanded to know when he could play in the snow.

  "I'll have to buy you a ski suit first. I'm off duty after lunch, so I'll go to the village and see what's there."

  True to her word, that afternoon she trudged through the snow to the village. At the end of the drive she met the full force of the wind and, as it tore at her mackintosh, she decided Bobby was not the only one who needed a ski suit. She must have been crazy not to have bought them in London.

  With Christmas so close there were already quite a number of tourists, and many different languages floated in the cold, dry air. For the first time she was aware of being in a foreign country. The clinic, like St. Catherine's, was such a closed world that it was easy to forget the life being lived outside its walls.

  In the centre of the village there was a cluster of shops, their windows filled with hand-knitted sweaters and sportswear. Here she found what she needed for her nephew, and extravagantly bought a couple of thick jerseys for herself.

  By the time she returned to the clinic her fingers were numb and har ears tingled painfully. Shivering, she entered the lobby and was halfway across the floor when her feet shot from under her and she fell down, her parcels scattering madly about her in all directions.

  "You should have used the brush at the entrance, Dr. Forrest!"

  She sat up and saw Phillip Redwood gazing at her. There was no smile on his face and she scrambled to her feet.

  "To brush what?" she asked.

  "Your shoes. Then you wouldn't slip…or make a mess."

  She looked at the rivulets of water running from her boots. "I'm sorry," she said lamely. "No one told me."

  As he helped her to retrieve her parcels, she wondered if it would bring to mind the time they had first met. But there was no lightening of his expression as he handed the bundles back to her. How much he had altered in the intervening years, she reflected, if he could not treat this incident as a joke.

  "Another thing," he said as she entered the elevator. "Nylon stockings, however flattering, are hardly warm enough for this climate!"

  Her reply was cut short at the doors closed automatically, and it was not until she shared her nephew's delight in his ski suit that she forgot her annoyance at Mr. Redwood's behaviour.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The weeks of December flew by, with Bobby growing fitter every day. This would be the first Christmas Lesley had spent away from her friends, and it was hard to maintain her cheerfulness. At St. Catherine's there had been a marked festiveness in the air, but the clinic had no such atmosphere and she wondered if this was due to the Swiss temperament or an edict by Phillip Redwood.

  The day before Christmas, Dr. Berteau sought her out. "You are on duty tomorrow, Fraulein Doctor, so I will take over for you."

  "I wouldn't dream of letting you," she protested.

  "The boy will expect to be with you. It is only right for you to be free."

  "How kind of you." She gave the young doctor a warm smile. "I was planning to give him some sort of party in the afternoon, and if you'd care to join us… "

  "It will be a pleasure."

  The thought of having someone else to share her tea party made Lesley feel more festive, though on Christmas morning the memory of Janet shadowed the day. Luckily, Bobby was preoccupied with his presents, although he discarded his father's train set for the skis she had bought him and the toboggan he had received from the nurses at the clinic.

  "Can I try it this morning?" he pleaded.

  "We're going to church," she answered firmly, "and we're already late. Hurry and put on your boots."

  At eleven they entered the tiny church of Kirchlei, which stood on the mountain overlooking the skating rink. The service had already begun, and though she did not understand the language, a sense of peace enveloped her as she listened to the firm voices of the villagers. How contented they looked with their scrubbed and shining faces; how free from problems or doubts!

  Her eyes scanned the pews, pausing in surprise as she saw Phillip Redwood. There was an air of loneliness about him that made her wonder again what had happened to his wife and why she was not here to share Christmas with him.

  "Can we go?" Bobby whispered. "It's boring not to know what they're saying."

  There was another burst of singing, and taking advantage of the noise, Lesley hustled him down the aisle. From the corner of her eye she was conscious of Mr. Redwood turning to watch their progress, but she pretended not to see him and hurried through the door.

  They had completed half their journey back to the clinic when there was a crunch of footsteps behind them. Realising who it was, she slackened her steps to allow the surgeon to pass them. But as he came abreast, Bobby beamed at him.

  "I'm much better now, sir. You won't need to take any more pictures—I mean X rays."

  "I'm glad you think so."

  He made to pass them, but Bobby spoke again. "May I have the old ones?"

  "What for?"

  "I might be able to swop them for marbles!"

  "Is that so?"

  "Unless you could let me have an appendix. One boy in my class swopped his for a football."

  The man burst out laughing and turned to Lesley. "Your nephew has a gruesome turn of mind."

  "Most boys have."

  "I wouldn't know. I don't have much to do with children."

  They walked on in silence and nervously she said the first thing that came into her head. "Are you going to stay here long?"

  "Depends what you mean by long. If you mean all my life—no. Only until I've learned everything Zecker can teach me."

  "What's he like?"

  "He's a genius." Redwood pointed at the clinic ahead of them. "He fought for years to get this place built and equipped. When I think of the millions that are spent on wars and the quibbling that goes on over spending a thousand or two on preventive medicine!" He stopped abruptly, as though annoyed with himself for letting his feelings show. "What made you take up medicine, Dr. Forrest?"

  She longed to blurt out the one word "You," but as she hesitated he spoke again.

  "Not that you'll be practising long. You'll probably get married and waste all the money that went into your training!"

  "I certainly wouldn't give up medicine if I married," she retorted.

  "Do you think you can combine marriage and a career?"

  "Naturally."

  "I'd have said unnaturally! Even a man's career can break up a marriage-Jet alone a woman's."

  He spoke with such force that she was reminded of the quarrel she had overheard between him and his wife: the very quarrel that had led to her dismissal from St. Catherine's and her eventual return there as a doctor! Afraid her memories might evoke his—and heaven help her if he remembered—she said quickly, "I studied medicine because it appealed to me as a logical science."

  "No dreams of being another Pasteur!"

  "I leave those sort of dreams to men!"

  His look was sharp but she returned it with innocence, and after a pause he took up the conversation again. "You've pulled your weight here and worked well."

  "It's kind of you to let us stay on as long as you have."

  "I've been giving the whole thing some thought," he said slowly. "It's unfair of me to inflict my personal prejudices on you. You have settled down well and you're welcome to remain here."

  "I never thought you'd change your mind."

  "I haven't. I merely realise it's a waste of money to pay you three months' notice when you can obviously do the job. Well, what's it to be?"

  Common sense came to her aid. "I'll stay. But I'd like to be as frank as you have been and say I dislike working with peop
le who are biased."

  "Then why remain?"

  "Because of my nephew. Otherwise I'd be off like a shot."

  "You don't mince your words."

  "Neither do you."

  They swung around the last curve in the drive and Bobby, who had been racing ahead, came slithering back to join them.

  "Is Mr. Redwood coming to our party, Auntie?"

  "No," Lesley said shortly.

  "What party?" Phillip Redwood asked.

  "My Christmas party," Bobby said. "Would you like to come?"

  "Bobby!" Lesley said with some annoyance. "Mr. Redwood's far too busy to bother with your party."

  "But I'd like to come," the man intervened, concentrating on the little boy in front of him. "Unfortunately, your aunt is too shy to ask me!"

  Scarlet faced, Lesley focused on a point ahead of her.

  "It isn't a real party, Mr. Redwood. Just tea and cakes, and Axel promised to come along to make it a little more festive."

  "Axel?" Phillip Redwood queried. "Don't tell me you've managed to get on first-name terms with him already. I've known him for years and we're still HerrDok- tor to one another!"

  "Bobby started it," she said quickly. "He found it impossible to pronounce Berteau!"

  Redwood stopped at the door to his private entrance. "What time am I expected?"

  "Four. But there's no need for you to come. Bobby-"

  "Four it shall be," he interrupted. "Don't look so cross, Dr. Forrest. After all, this is the day of goodwill to all men!"

  Biting back a retort, she went on her way.

  Promptly on time, Axel Berteau arrived and ceremoniously handed Lesley a large bunch of flowers and gave Bobby a beautifully carved cuckoo clock.

  "Has it got a real cuckoo inside?" Bobby asked.

  "Put it on the mantelpiece. At five o'clock you will see." Axel stared at the cakes and sandwiches. "What time do we eat? Such good food makes me hungry."

  "As soon as Mr. Redwood arrives," Lesley replied and hid a smile at Axel's astonishment.

  "He is coming here?"

  "Bobby asked him and I don't think he had the heart to refuse. Bobby sounded so enthusiastic about it."

  "I am glad. It will do him good to relax and forget. This time of the year must always remind him of—"

  There was a knock on the door and, wishing it had come a little later, Lesley opened it. Phillip Redwood entered, his lean figure in a dark grey suit seeming to dwarf the room.

  "I hope I'm not late." He thrust a parcel into Bobby's hand and one into Lesley's. "I'm afraid I couldn't find anything more exciting than perfume for you," he added.

  "You shouldn't have bothered," she protested and undid the package to disclose a large bottle of Arp£ge. "It's my favourite. Really, Mr. Redwood, you embarrass me."

  He shrugged and watched Bobby undo his present. "I hope you like it, old chap. It's a cuckoo clock."

  "Axel's already bought me one!"

  "And I thought I was being original!" Redwood glanced at his assistant "I've a good mind to make you change yours, instead!"

  "There's no need to bother," Lesley put in hastily. "I'm sure Bobby would love to have two. He can have one in the bedroom and one in here."

  "I don't want two cuckoo clocks," Bobby said.

  "Let's sit down for tea, shall we?" Lesley suggested brightly. "I. know Bobby can't wait to start!"

  As the little boy began to eat the wafer-thin sandwiches and cream-filled cakes, his high spirits could not be quenched, and the two men entered into the party spirit. Amazingly, it was Phillip Redwood who displayed the most ingenuity. He helped pull the crackers, distrib- ' uted the paper caps and wore one himself at such a rakish angle that it completely transformed his usual sober appearance. Bobby's zeal certainly had been contagious.

  Then it was time to turn on the Christmas-tree lights. As Lesley bent to plug them in, she was unaware of the lovely picture she made as her slender figure, in a tawny gold dress that matched her hair, was outlined against the green fir tree.

  "There," she said straightening. "Now, would someone please turn out the light?"

  Axel did so and the room was plunged into darkness except for the tree glowing with tiny coloured dots of illumination in the corner.

  "It's a long time since I've seen such a beautiful sight." Phillip Redwood spoke directly behind her, his voice low with sadness.

  "Then I'm glad you came."

  "Are you? This morning you were annoyed about it."

  "Because I thought you'd be bored." Quickly she turned to Bobby. "What about showing us your train set?"

  The words had a magic effect, and within moments the little boy and the two men were spread-eagled on the floor. Amused, Lesley watched as they consistently failed to keep the engine on the track.

  "We need Dr. Weis here," Axel said. "He's a good mechanic."

  "I doubt if his skill could succeed with this train!" Phillip Redwood rose and dusted his knees. "But he'll be back tonight, so Bobby can let him try." He turned to Lesley. "You'll have more free time once he starts again."

  "I haven't noticed the extra work," she protested and bent forward to pick up a discarded paper hat. Her hair glowed caramel in the light and the man snapped his fingers.

  "Taffy! That's the colour of your hair. And now I remember where we met. At St. Catherine's—the Christmas dance!"

  "You have an excellent memory," she said expres- sionlessly.

  Axel looked at them. "You have met before?"

  "I met Dr. Forrest when she was a nurse," Phillip Redwood replied.

  Axel looked at Lesley in surprise. "It is unusual to give up nursing and become a doctor."

  For a moment Lesley hesitated, then she took the plunge. "In a way you could say I was pushed into it. I once overheard a surgeon saying women shouldn't be allowed in the medical profession."

  "So it was you." Phillip Redwood sighed. "Now I remember it all!"

  Again Axel glanced at them. "Is it indiscreet to ask what this is about?"

  "A stupid action in my past," the surgeon said. "I caused a nurse to lose her job—though the medical profession gained an excellent doctor."

  "You?" said Axel to Lesley.

  She nodded and looked at the tall, lean man beside her, who once again spoke. "Dr. Forrest will be staying on here with us."

  "That is excellent news," Axel beamed. "And also good for the little one."

  "I'm not little," Bobby said indignantly. "I'm eight."

  "Don't I know it," Lesley said ruefully. "The age for mice and rabbits!"

  "Children are usually fond of animals," Phillip Redwood said. "I have a rabbit in the laboratory that he can have."

  Bobby ran over to him. "Can I really?"

  "If you promise not to bring him into the clinic."

  "Oh, I wouldn't! Did you hear that, Auntie? I'm going to have a hutch full of rabbits."

  "Hey! I'm not giving you a pair," the surgeon interrupted. "Only one!"

  "What's that got to do with it?" Bobby asked.

  "You can't breed unless you—"

  "How about a game of musical chairs?" Lesley broke in.

  Immediately Bobby rushed over to the radio and Phillip Redwood looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Don't you believe in sex education?"

  "Not for eight-year-olds—and certainly not until they are sufficiently curious to insist on having an answer."

  "Come on everyone," Bobby cailed. "I'm ready."

  "I'll switch the music on and off," Axel volunteered, "and you three can start."

  In Indian file they circled the two chairs in the centre of the floor, and though Lesley felt extremely self- conscious, it was difficult to maintain any dignity once the music stopped and they all made a concerted rush to sit down. Soon it became a boisterous game and they cheated outrageously to enable Bobby to win.

  Then it was the little boy's time to manipulate the music and he was in a frenzy for Lesley to remain in the game.

  "Quick, Auntie!" he shouted. "Ru
n for it!"

  Lesley flung herself at the nearest chair and landed on the small seat as Redwood himself sprawled over it. His arms locked around her to save her from falling, and for an instant she relaxed against him.

  "I couldn't have done better if I'd tried!" he said softly.

  "I think you got there first."

  Abruptly, she stood up, the music began again and this time Berteau caught Bobby's hands and twirled him around the floor.

  "Come on, I'll show you how the Swiss do a Mazurka."

  Phillip Redwood held out his hands to Lesley. "I can't do anything as entertaining, I'm afraid, but how about a fox trot?"

  She nodded and moved forward, stopping abruptly as the door opened and a man was framed on the threshold.

  "Richard!"

  With a cry of amazement she ran across the room and was lifted high in the air before being soundly kissed on the mouth. Then, keeping his arm around her waist, he greeted the two men.

  "Hello Bertie, Redwood, sir. Merry Christmas."

  Axel Berteau looked bewildered. "You know each other?"

  "I don't usually greet strange women like that!" Richard laughed.

  Lesley gave an exclamation. "Of course! Weis— that's German for White! How stupid of me not to realise." She glanced at Mr. Redwood who was watching her stonily from the hearth. "We trained together at St. Andrew's."

  "I see." It was a curt sound and she was aware of his disapproval as he walked to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I must go." He nodded to Richard. "Come to my quarters for a drink later on and bring all the data from Zurich."

  "Right. About nine?"

  It was not until later that evening, when Bobby was in bed and Axel had left, that Richard and Lesley were able to talk.

  "I'm sorry I've discovered your hiding place," she said with amusement.

  "I'm glad you did. I was going to write you anyway. I've missed you very much. I still want to marry you, Lesley. Is there any chance for me?"

  "No. There's no point beating about the bush, Richard. I don't love you and I never will."

  "Is it because I'm fat?" he spoke with equal blunt- ness.