‘Financially, maybe,’ her father agreed, his expression slightly reproving. ‘But the Savage men have been general practitioners here for three generations, and Dominic has a tremendous sense of duty. He always did have; don’t you remember how protective he always used to be of you? We never needed to worry about you when you were in Dominic’s care.’
‘I would have thought he had more ambition than to want to spend all his life in Setondale.’
‘Oh, he’s got ambition all right. He was telling me tonight about his hopes and plans. He wants to try to raise enough money locally to buy and equip a local surgery that’s capable of carrying out most of the more common operations. He’s seen it done in the States and is convinced it can be copied here, and I think he’ll do it, too. There’s going to be quite a lot of work involved in raising the initial finance, of course, but I’ve promised to give him what help I can—oh, and I told him that you’d probably be prepared to take on the secretarial side of things for him. It’s a very worthwhile cause, and I’m sure he’ll be able to get a lot of local support. After all, it’s going on for forty miles to the nearest hospital, and the sort of clinic-cum-operating theatre Dominic plans for Setondale could only benefit everyone.’
Her father’s enthusiasm for Dominic’s plans made it impossible for Christy to tell him that there was no way she was going to be involved in anything that brought her into closer contact with Dominic. She tried to comfort herself with the conviction that she was the very last person Dominic would want to assist him, but she couldn’t help remembering that since his unexpected return he had behaved as though that final annihilating scene between them had simply never taken place. Maybe he could do that, but she couldn’t. Every time she looked at him she remembered her humiliation.
Thoroughly infuriated and exasperated by her father’s lack of intuition in realising that she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with Dominic, she carried the coffee tray into the kitchen.
CHAPTER THREE
FOUR days passed without Christy seeing anything of Dominic. She told herself that she was glad, and concentrated on settling into a proper routine. By the end of the week she was finding that she had time to spare, and because she was used to being busy, it weighed heavily upon her hands. So heavily, in fact, that her father’s announcement that a meeting was going to be held to discuss the setting-up of a committee to organise fund-raising for Dominic’s clinic-cum-operating theatre came as a welcome relief.
‘I’ve volunteered you to take notes and keep the minutes,’ he warned her. ‘Dominic was a bit dubious about whether you’d want to be so closely involved.’
Meaning that he didn’t want her closely involved? She felt a totally unexpected pain shaft through her, which she suppressed instantly, instead concentrating on fanning her anger.
‘Was he? Well, you can tell Dominic from me that I do want to do it. It will stop my secretarial skills from getting too rusty.’
‘You’ll be able to tell him for yourself,’ her father chuckled. ‘He’s coming round for supper tonight, so that we can make a few preliminary plans.’
The sudden lurch of her heart was so intensely reminiscent of her reaction to the mention of his name at seventeen that it drove all the colour from her face. What was the matter with her? She wasn’t that susceptible, adolescent, any more. She felt nothing for Dominic Savage, unless it was dislike.
‘Who else will be at the meeting?’ she asked her father, trying to distract herself.
‘Oh, John Howard, from the bank. He’s bringing a client of his who’s just moved into the area. A self-made man who’s just retired and who he thinks might be interested in making a donation. I think I’ve managed to persuade Lady Anthony to join us. She suffers quite badly from arthritis now, and isn’t as involved in local affairs as she was once, but I think she’ll consider this is something worth being involved with. She’s always had a soft spot for Dominic.’
‘Yes. Ever since he presented her with the chocolates he won at the summer fête!’
Her father gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Yes, you’d plagued the life out of him to give those chocolates to you.’
‘And he said they weren’t good for me.’
That had been the summer she was eleven, and Dominic had been, what? Nineteen and at medical school. She had adored him then, and he had put up with her adoration in much the same way as he might have tolerated the friskiness of an untrained puppy.
‘Lady Anthony has a relative staying with her at the moment. I haven’t met her, but I have heard that she’s a very attractive young woman. You’ll probably find you have quite a lot in common with her. She’s been living in London, but when her marriage broke up she came to stay with her godmother. The Vicar will be there of course—oh, and Major Barnes.’
When Christy’s eyebrows rose, her father grinned. ‘Yes, I know. He and Lady Anthony will argue like mad. They always do, and secretly, I’m sure both of them enjoy it. He’s an indefatigable organiser, though. We’re all meeting at Dominic’s house—you know he’s bought the Vicarage.’ He glanced apologetically at her. ‘I’m afraid I’ve volunteered you to take charge of the refreshments. Your mother …’
Christy sighed, not needing him to finish the sentence. Yes, had she been well enough, her mother would have been the first to offer her services. Like the Major, her mother was also an indefatigable organiser, and many was the hot summer afternoon when Christy had been detailed to assist with a mammoth cake-baking session for some local bring-and-buy sale or summer fete.
It must be her nostalgia for those long-ago times that made her refrain from objecting to her father’s casual disposal of her time, she decided the next morning as she surveyed the cooling sponges on their wire trays.
The inhabitants of Setondale were old-fashioned about some things; bought cakes were one of them. No self-respecting Setondale housewife would ever serve her visitors with something she had not prepared with her own hands.
Well, at least she didn’t appear to have lost her touch with a sponge, Christy thought approvingly as she tested the golden-brown confectionery. In addition to the sponges, there were biscuits, made to her mother’s special recipe, and later on she would make sandwiches and carefully cover them to stop them curling at the edges. She would have to borrow her father’s car to run them over to Dominic’s house, but since her father was out playing golf with one of his cronies he was hardly likely to object.
As she drove over to the Vicarage later in the day Christy wondered curiously why Dominic had bought it. Surely a smaller house in the centre of Setondale itself would have suited him more? The very reason the Church had sold off the Vicarage was its size, and the cost of maintaining and heating it. As far as she remembered, it had at least seven bedrooms, and then there were the attics.
The wrought-iron gates were permanently open; indeed, they had stood open for so long that she doubted they could ever be closed. Weeds and brambles had grown in between the spars, and the bright winter sunshine highlighted their neglected state.
The drive to the house too was overgrown, and the trees, which would look lovely in the spring, now looked gaunt and dreary without their leaves. Even so, the Georgian façade of the house was undeniably elegant, and the gardens, encircled as they were by a high brick wall, would be a haven of privacy once they had been brought under control. But who was going to do that? Not Dominic, surely? He would be far too busy.
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