Dr Blake's Angel. Marion Lennox

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ well.’ Blake cast a curious glance across the table. ‘You sound like you know her fairly well.’

      ‘No. No one does. No one was allowed to know her.’

      ‘Why not?’

      But Grace wasn’t answering. She was staring into the dregs of her tea like she was staring into the past, but the smile remained on her face.

      At least she wasn’t suicidal tonight, Blake thought thankfully, rising to leave. He’d given her something to think about, even though he didn’t understand why she was so interested.

      But at least she was interested, and for that Blake could only be thankful.

      It was after midnight when Blake drove home from the last house call and it was all he could do to keep himself awake. He opened the car windows wide, he turned the radio up full blast, but he knew he was still in danger of going to sleep at the wheel.

      Back at the hospital he checked on Harriet who was sleeping soundly, hooked up to the heart monitor. If he could keep her quiet she might well stay that way until morning.

      It seemed there was a block of some kind, he thought as he examined the results of his tests. There was no evidence of heart-muscle injury on the cardiograph or in the blood tests, but she had a very slow pulse.

      She needs a cardiologist, Blake thought, and maybe a pacemaker and he knew it’d take him hours the next morning to convince her that he couldn’t fit her with a pacemaker on his own. She’d have to go to Blairglen.

      Finally, almost asleep on his feet, he pushed open the door between the hospital and his living quarters. And he stopped dead.

      Nell was waiting for him.

      ‘You’ve been ages,’ she told him. ‘I knew you’d be late but this is ridiculous.’

      ‘What?’ He was so exhausted he was having trouble taking it all in.

      First of all, Nell had been transformed. No longer in purple overalls, she was now dressed in a bright crimson, floor-length bathrobe. It had rich burgundy lining, it was big enough to wrap around her twice, and she was curled up on the sofa with her bare toes poking out, looking like…

      Looking like he didn’t know what.

      And what on earth was she sitting on? Where was his horrible settee? Where was his dining setting?

      The sofa Nell was sitting on was enormous. It was ancient, a great mass of soft velvet cushions. Like her amazing dressing-gown, it was vivid crimson. It was the sort of sofa you just wanted to sink in and…

      And nothing!

      ‘What have you done to my house?’ he managed, and if his voice came out strangled who could blame him?

      ‘It’s our house,’ she reminded him gently. ‘As an employed doctor in the town I have just as many rights to this place as you do. Don’t you like it?’ She gazed up at him, a picture of injured innocence. ‘I’ve gone to so much trouble. And do you like my dressing-gown?’ She beamed down at her splendid self. ‘This belonged to Grandpa. Such a waste.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘I’ve been so busy…’

      ‘I can see that.’ He was still taking everything in. What was new?

      Everything was new.

      The vinyl furniture had disappeared completely. There was now the amazing sofa and a couple of great squishy armchairs. There was a new dining table—or rather an old one—an oak affair that looked as if it had been polished for generations. There were matching dining chairs with scatter cushions. And rugs…three vast Turkish rugs covering almost every available piece of floor space.

      There were even pictures on the walls!

      ‘Did this all come out of your suitcase?’ he enquired, and she chuckled.

      ‘I just waved my magic wand.’

      He glanced at his watch. He’d been away for exactly five hours.

      ‘You just nipped out to the shops, then. Or called in a decorator?’

      ‘Well, no.’

      ‘So would you like to explain?’

      ‘I went exploring and caught Bob and Henry before they left the hospital.’

      He thought that one through. Bob and Henry. He only knew the one Bob and Henry pair. ‘The ambulance drivers?’

      ‘I know them both from way back,’ she told him. ‘They weren’t ambulance drivers in my day. In fact, I went to school with Bob, and when I showed him the conditions we were expected to live in he was shocked. Both of them were.’

      ‘He’s given you this stuff?’ Blake’s voice was unbelieving, and Nell giggled.

      ‘No, silly. It’s from my house.’

      ‘Your house.’

      ‘I told you,’ she said patiently. ‘I own a house out on the bluff. It’s ancient, it hasn’t been used for years but it’s full of extremely good stuff. Like this.’ She patted her sofa fondly. ‘I knew it’d be comfortable. I was never allowed to sit on it when I was a kid but, oh, how I wanted to.’

      He was distracted—almost—but there were burning questions. ‘How the hell did you get this stuff back here?’

      ‘The ambulance, of course,’ she said blithely. ‘How else?’

      ‘You used the ambulance to transport furniture?’ He was gearing himself up to explode.

      ‘If I hadn’t then I’d have needed the ambulance tomorrow to cart me away for major back repair.’ Her tone was innocence personified. ‘It was a case of preventative medicine, and I’m really good at that. I was determined to get it here, and my little sedan only has a very tiny roof-rack. Anyway, once I explained the situation to Henry and Bob they were only too pleased to help.’ She smiled up at Blake. ‘So we took the stretchers out of the ambulance and went for it. It took us five trips and we’ve only just finished.’

      ‘And if there’d been an urgent call?’

      ‘Then they’d have heaved the furniture out and got on with it,’ she told him. ‘Honestly—do you think we’re negligent or something?’

      He thought no such thing. He didn’t know what to think. He walked over and sank down into one of the chairs—and promptly stood up again.

      One of the cushions had moved! Now it rose, shoving itself to four feet, and it glared at him. What the…?

      But Nell was smiling. ‘Um…meet Ernest. Dr Sutherland, Ernest. Ernest, meet Dr Sutherland.’

      ‘Ernest.’

      Who was Ernest? He’d just found out. Blake found himself looking at the most mournful, pathetic bag of bones he’d ever come across in СКАЧАТЬ