‘I’m not giving you psychobabble, I’m telling you where you’re going wrong with your life.’
‘That’s why you called?’ Mac eyed the mud on the hall floor and exhaled slowly. He was never in the house. How did it get so dirty? ‘To tell me where I’m going wrong with my life? Thanks.’
‘Actually, I called to arrange delivery of your Christmas present. I’ve gone to a lot of effort. It’s important that you’re in.’
Mac checked his reflection in the hall mirror and grimaced. He looked like a bandit. He needed a shave and a sleep, although possibly not in that order. ‘We never bother with Christmas presents.’
It was just one more thing to think about.
‘Well, this year, we’re bothering. Or, at least, I am.’
Mac sighed and made a mental note to buy something useless for his brother. ‘All right, if you want to play Santa, we’ll play Santa. But I hope my stocking is full of bottles.’
‘Alcohol isn’t the answer.’
‘Surely that depends on the question.’
Josh chuckled. ‘You’re supposed to be a respectable doctor,’ he reminded him sternly, his voice suddenly muffled as he broke off to issue some instructions to someone who was passing,
Mac eyed his reflection. ‘I am a respectable doctor.’
Even if he didn’t look like one.
‘Well, just make sure you’re in to answer the door because it can’t be left on the doorstep.’ There was a yawn in his brother’s voice. ‘I’ll still be stuck here up to my armpits in broken bones and hacking coughs. I should have been a GP.’
‘Then you would have seen a hundred patients a day with nothing wrong with them. Are you serious about this?’ Mac shook his head in exasperation as he contemplated the possibilities. ‘You’ve seriously bought me a Christmas present?’
‘Yeah.’ His brother’s voice was a mocking drawl. ‘It’s the festive season, just in case you hadn’t noticed. And knowing you, I’m sure you hadn’t. To you, Christmas is just another day of work.’
‘Fortunately for my patients.’ Matt strolled through to his enormous living room. His enormous, empty living room. It was devoid of all evidence of Christmas. The long French windows faced the sea, providing him with a perfect view of wild surf, thrashed into a furious frenzy by winter winds and bitter cold. Most people preferred to sample the delights of the Cornish coast in the summer but he’d always preferred it in the winter. In the summer it belonged to the tourists, the hordes of visitors who arrived with buckets and spades and giggling children, covering the beach outside his back door. And then the weather cooled and they departed, leaving him to enjoy the best part of the year with other committed locals. To some it would have seemed stark and lonely but he loved the wildness. And he had no intention of adding tinsel just because it happened to be two weeks before Christmas. It was just something else to clear up.
‘In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t exactly my favourite time of year.’ He stared out at the ocean, realising that it had been weeks since he’d even found time to windsurf. Maybe his brother was right. Maybe he was working too hard.
‘I know this isn’t your best time of year, Mac.’ His brother’s voice softened slightly. ‘But it’s been two years since Melissa died and Santa’s missed you. Get back on the horse, bro. It’s time.’
Time for what?
Mac’s fingers tightened on the phone. ‘I appreciate the thought.’ His voice was rough. ‘But I like my life the way it is.’
Busy.
‘All you do is work, but my present is going to change all that. I’ve got to go.’ Josh suddenly sounded harassed and Mac heard the sound of an ambulance siren and voices in the background. ‘What’s the matter with our department? The tourists have gone home and we’re still inundated in A and E. We need to do some accident prevention work around here. Stop people driving too fast on narrow Cornish roads when it’s icy.’
‘It keeps us busy.’ And he liked to be busy. Work was his life. Work was his saviour. ‘What’s happening about the nursing situation?’
‘All sorted. She starts on Monday.’
Mac frowned. ‘Who starts?’
‘The new A and E nurse. She’s a whiz. You’ll love her. And now I’ve got to go. Lives to save. Nurses to impress. Talk to you later. Merry Christmas.’ The phone went dead and Mac gave a sigh and replaced the handset.
He could just imagine what his brother was facing. They were so understaffed at the moment that the situation was becoming almost dangerous. As the consultant in charge of the department, he’d put his case to the hospital authorities on several occasions, but nothing had been done and the arguments were always the same. No more budget. And no staff willing to bury themselves in the depths of Cornwall, particularly in the winter.
Which meant that Christmas was going to be busy.
Exactly the way he liked it.
IT WAS her perfect house.
And there was no one home.
Louisa tried the doorbell again and cuddled her long wool coat around her to keep out the freezing wind. It had started snowing again and soft flakes settled on the ground and clung to her tumbling dark hair. She’d only stepped out of her car a few minutes before and already her fingers were freezing and she couldn’t feel her toes.
If she was going to spend Christmas here, she needed more clothes.
She gave a shiver and pressed the bell again, this time keeping her finger on it for much longer. Someone had to be there. Josh had assured her that his brother would be at home. That he was expecting her.
Giving up on the bell, she took a step backwards and looked at the huge white house. It was gorgeous. The sort of house she’d dreamed about as a child. The sort of house that should have been full of kids and dogs and laughter. She stared, wistfully. On the ground floor, huge glass windows faced out to sea across a wide deck, piled with drifted snow. A large, rambling garden stretched all the way down to the sand dunes, wild and neglected.
It was a house with a story to tell. And today there were no signs of life.
Remembering everything that Josh had told her about his brother and why he hated Christmas, Louisa stared anxiously at the house.
Just how much did Mac Sullivan hate Christmas?
Did he hate it enough to—to...?
She gazed up at the huge windows and bit her lip. Christmas was a bad time of year for lots of people, even without tragedy in their lives. What if he was lying in there, an empty bottle of tablets by the side of his bed? Maybe he’d left a note—
No.
She shook herself and wished her imagination wasn’t quite so lively. He was probably just watching TV or something. He probably couldn’t hear the doorbell.
Wishing she’d worn a thermal vest under her jumper, Louisa walked up to the window and peered inside, hoping to see signs of life.
She’d been told to arrive at lunchtime and this was lunchtime.
The living room was elegantly furnished with large white