Free Bachelor Cure by Marion Lennox Page B

Barbara said patiently. ‘Everyone does. I put it in your diary a month ago.’
    â€˜Yeah. Right.’
    â€˜Liz knows you’ll be there in name only,’ Barbara told her. ‘She says she’ll meet you there and your name will be beside hers on the supper table. It’s the same table as the shire president. Oh, and she says ifyou can squeeze in time for a couple of dances, she’d be grateful.’
    Maureen sighed as she watched him think this through. The valley girls knew what to expect from Mike now. It gave them a certain amount of social cachet to be his date for the evening, but if a girl expected him to pick her up, she’d be two hours late every time—if he came at all. There was always a medical imperative. And even if he came, there was a risk of one lumbering basset-hound in the passenger seat.
    But still they tried. He was a great dancing partner and if they were lucky enough for the phone to stay silent and for him to be dogless, there was the ride home in his gorgeous Aston Martin, and maybe a kiss…
    But nothing more.
    â€˜Yeah, you’re right,’ he said abstractedly. ‘The council supports the hospital so I need to go to the ball. Tell Liz it’s fine. I’ll meet her there.’
    â€˜You wouldn’t like to ring her and tell her yourself?’ Maureen asked, but she asked as if it was a forlorn hope.
    â€˜Why?’ He frowned, lifting his list of house calls and leafing through the pile.
    â€˜Because one of these days you won’t want your secretary organising your love life,’ she retorted.
    â€˜Why would I change now?’ He grinned and pocketed his list. ‘You do a fantastic job. My love life is entirely satisfactory, thanks to you, Maureen.’ He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the top of the head, then took himself out to his Aston Martin, which—apart from Strop—was the love of his life and the only love of his life. He had house calls to do.
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    It was ten that night before he returned to the hospital and he was starting to feel the strain. In fact, he was dead beat.
    Strop was already asleep and not the least bit interested in asking how his day had gone.
    â€˜Half your luck,’ he told the dog, but Strop didn’t stir.
    He did a cursory ward round in the darkened hospital, checking obs and organising changes of treatment with night staff. He left Henry till last, as he wasn’t worried. He’d been assured at each of his phone checks that Henry was going well.
    He opened the ward door softly, and found Louise, one of the night nurses, sitting beside the bed. Until Henry’s pulse settled to a strong beat—until the chest infection was under control and the fluids were completely restored—Mike had requested he be special-led.
    But… He’d sort of hoped Tessa might be here.
    She wasn’t, and he had to swallow a lurch of disappointment.
    Louise looked up in query as he entered. She smiled and handed him the obs chart.
    â€˜Things are looking good here, Doctor,’ she said primly. Louise was that sort of nurse. Primness was her forte. ‘Mr Westcott’s awake.’
    â€˜Are you, then, Henry?’ Mike smiled and walked over to the bed. Henry’s old face was gaunt and shrunken on the whiteness of the pillows but, in thedim night light, Mike could see his old eyes looking up with sharp intelligence.
    â€˜Mike…’
    Mike gripped his hand and held on.
    â€˜Welcome back to the land of the living, sir,’ he said softly.
    â€˜It was thanks to you…’
    Henry’s voice was amazingly strong, considering. Mike gave an inward sigh of relief. Hell, after all he’d gone through, the man must be as tough as old boots.
    â€˜Your rescue was thanks to your granddaughter,’ he told him. ‘Tessa’s one determined lady.’
    â€˜She is that. My Tess…’ The old man closed his eyes for a long moment, and Mike