‘NO, MUM, I really don’t want to go and live with my father.’ Katie frowned at the idea. ‘He suggested it but, to be honest, it would be like living with a stranger. After all, we barely know one another even after three weeks I still haven’t really managed to fathom him out.’
She glanced around the medical office that she had begun to call her own and leaned back in her seat, beginning to relax. There were still some ten minutes of her coffee break left, more than enough time to sit and chat with her mother.
‘These things take time, I suppose…’ her mother said, ‘but I think it was a wise decision to go over to California to see him. You would never have been comfortable with yourself if you hadn’t gone to seek him out. I suppose we all need to discover our roots, if only to find out if there are some genetic characteristics that have been passed on.’ Her tone was pensive. ‘I know you’re like your father in some ways—you know what you want, and once you’ve made up your mind, you go after it. That’s why you’ve done so well with your medical training.’
Eve Logan was thoughtful for a moment or two, and Katie could imagine her at the other end of the line, mulling things over. ‘It’s a shame you couldn’t find a place to stay that was nearer to the hospital, though,’ Eve added. ‘A half-hour drive to work every day doesn’t sound too good, though I expect it could have been worse.’ She hesitated. ‘Anyway, how is your father? From what you said last week, it sounds as though he’s more ill than we suspected.’
‘He has breathing problems—he’s suffering from what they call chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.’ Katie had spoken to her father about his difficulties, and though he’d been reluctant to dwell on his problems, he’d at least opened up enough to give her a brief outline. ‘He’s taking a variety of medicines to keep it under control, but I don’t think they’re having the desired effect. I suspect his condition’s deteriorating. He puts on a show of being able to cope, but I can see that it’s a struggle for him sometimes.’
She paused. ‘Anyway, you’re right, it makes me even more glad that I decided to come out here when I did. No matter what I think about him, he’s my father, and I feel as though I have to get to know him. Trouble is, every time we meet, he manages to sidestep my questions one way or another, or we’re interrupted somehow.’
It still rankled that Nick Bellini had come along to disrupt her lunch with her father, though in truth she couldn’t really blame him for that. He was an innocent bystander in all this, wasn’t he, and how could he know what kind of relationship they had?
Still, he’d reached her in more ways than she could have imagined. Her father’s business associate wasn’t someone she would easily forget.
‘That must be annoying,’ her mother acknowledged. ‘Still, you have plenty of time to build up some kind of relationship with him. You’ve signed a contract for a year, haven’t you, so you don’t have to rush things…and if, in the end, it doesn’t work out, you can always come home. There’ll always be a place here for you.’
‘Thanks, Mum. That’s good to know.’ Katie’s mouth made a rueful curve. She made it sound so easy, but the truth was, her mother was making a new life for herself back in Shropshire. She was going to marry Simon, a director of the pharmaceutical company where she worked, and they were very much wrapped up in one another right now. Katie wasn’t going to do anything to intrude on that.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘in the meantime, the scenery around here is fantastic, and with any luck I’ll get to see the vineyard before too long. It’s not as big as the Bellini vineyard next to it, but by all accounts it’s quite impressive.’
‘Bellini—I’ve heard that name,’ her mother commented, an inflection of interest in her voice. ‘There was an article about them in the Sunday supplement some time ago…all about the different varieties of wine they produce, as I recall. Apparently their land included your father’s vineyard at one time—there was something about an Italian migrant seeing the potential for development at the turn of the last century and buying up as much acreage as he could afford. But as the generations went by there were financial problems and part of the land was sold off around 1980. As far as I know, your father didn’t get into the business until some twenty or so years ago.’
‘Well, he’s made a success of it, by all accounts,’ Katie murmured. Her mother’s comments about the Sunday supplements had triggered a thought process in her mind, but she still couldn’t remember what it was that she’d read about Nick Bellini. Some kind of high-society gossip that kept the Sunday papers occupied for a week or two, but annoyingly the gist of it had slipped her mind.
Her pager began to bleep, and she glanced at the small screen, quickly scanning the text message from her boss. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she said, ‘but I’ll have to ring you back later. I have to go out on an emergency call. Someone’s had a fall at a hotel nearby, and I need to go and see what the damage is.’
‘All right, Katie, love. Take care of yourself. Remember I’m always here for you.’
‘I will. Bye, Mum.’
Katie grabbed her medical bag and stopped by the reception desk on her way out. ‘Divert any patients to Mike O’Brien, will you, Carla? I’m going out on a call to the Pine Vale Hotel.’
‘I’ll do that. No problem. You’ll find the hotel just off the main road out of here.’ The clerk gave her a wave as Katie disappeared through the wide front doors of the building.
Pine Vale Hotel was up in the hills, only a short drive from the hospital, and Katie reached it in good time. As she slid out of her car and took a look around, she was stunned by the magnificence of the building. White painted, it was a long, symmetrical edifice with two front extending wings at either end. It stood three storeys high, and there were large, Georgian-styled windows in abundance, with green painted shutters folded back. On the ground floor several sets of French doors were set back in archways, and Katie guessed the hotel must be flooded with light.
She wasn’t wrong. Inside, the foyer reflected a quiet elegance, with traditional, comfy sofas that invited people to sit and take their ease. There were low, marble-topped tables and flower arrangements everywhere, adding glorious splashes of colour to delight the eye.
‘Hello.’ Katie introduced herself to the woman behind the desk. ‘I’m Dr Logan. I understand you have a patient for me.’
‘Oh, thank goodness you’re here.’ The woman, around thirty years old, with fair hair cut into a neat, gently curving bob, looked relieved. ‘Yes, please come with me and I’ll take you to her. The ambulance is on its way… the emergency services said they were sending a doctor out as well, as there might be a head injury, so I’m really glad to see you. I’m Jenny, by the way… Jenny Goldblum. I’m the hotel manager.’
Katie nodded acknowledgement. ‘I was told that the lady fell in her room and appears to be semiconscious—did anyone see the fall? It always helps to know the circumstances.’
Jenny shook her head. She pressed the button for the lift, and frowned as the door swished open. ‘It isn’t clear what happened. The maid found her when she went to clean the room. We think perhaps it had only just happened because a lady in the room next door had been speaking to Mrs Wyatt just a minute or so before.’
They stepped out of the lift on to the first floor, and Katie was ushered into a large, airy room, furnished in elegant style. There was a double bed with bedside units and an oak dresser to one side of the room, but at the far end, by the window, furniture had been arranged in a seating area. There was an oval oak coffee table and a couple of brocade-covered