‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. It was completely uncalled for, especially when you’ve been so kind.’
Hah! thought Kerry cynically. Now she was seeing his charming TV persona once more.
‘I guess it’s been a hell of a long day,’ Denovan continued. ‘I just wish Frank could learn not to take liberties with his blasted car.’
Amen to that, agreed Kerry. Frank wasn’t aware of the upset he’d caused her over the past twenty-four hours!
‘Perhaps he’s learned his lesson,’ observed Kerry tersely. ‘However, I’m sure when he sees you, it will do him a lot of good.’
Denovan shrugged. ‘Actually, it could have quite the opposite effect. The last time I saw or spoke to Frank was over six years ago, and that wasn’t exactly a happy occasion.’ He said it lightly, but that only seemed to emphasise the gravity of their differences.
He turned and left the room, striding quickly down the corridor and attempting to gather his thoughts. God, he was a fool. Why had he flown off the handle when Kerry had queried his commitment to his brother? All she had done was express sympathy and offer hospitality to himself and Archie—and he’d repaid her by being incredibly rude.
The truth was, he admitted to himself, he had a terrible fear that coming back and seeing Frank would raise all kinds of ghosts that he’d tried to bury over the years—and perhaps there was some guilt that he had never attempted to build bridges with his brother.
Of course, Kerry knew nothing of the terrible legacy of betrayal and disgust he felt for Frank, and the bitterness that had grown up between the two men. He clenched his fists angrily. Hell, he didn’t owe his brother any sympathy at all after what he’d done to ruin the family. He took a deep breath and went to collect his little boy from the kitchen.
Kerry sat down and stared after him in astonishment. What earth-shattering event could have caused a six-year rift between the two brothers? And whatever it was, did it justify Denovan’s rudeness?
CHAPTER TWO
ARCHIE settled happily in front of the television while his father went to see Frank in the local hospital, which was about five miles away across the valley in the larger town of Laystone. Denovan said he would probably stay an hour and find out what the prognosis on Frank was.
Kerry put on the kettle and started to make a quick supper for herself and Archie. She flicked a look at the little boy, endearingly quaint with his round glasses perched on the end of his snub nose, his jaws moving rhythmically as he devoured a little bowl of raisins. He seemed an adaptable child—obviously well used to adjusting to new people and situations.
‘Would you like some pasta?’ she enquired.
He didn’t take his eyes from the screen. ‘No, I don’t like pasta, thank you.’
‘What about some baked beans, then?’ Kerry rooted around in a cupboard looking for suitable food.
‘No, I don’t like baked beans, thank you.’
‘Then what do you like?’
Archie dragged himself away from watching the flickering screen. ‘I like chips and burgers and ice cream and crisps and chocolate,’ he said firmly.
Kerry’s lips twitched in amusement—evidently his parents didn’t bother about healthy diets!
‘Is that what you’re allowed at home?’
Archie fixed Kerry with his bright blue eyes and nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. Daddy says I can have what I want.’
‘Right, well, I’ll see what I can find,’ she promised, wondering where Mummy fitted into the picture.
A few minutes later Kerry collapsed on the sofa next to Archie and tucked into her pasta, giving the little boy some ice cream she’d found at the bottom of the freezer, and both of them sat in silence, one absorbed in the television, Kerry starting to look through her mail and flicking through the newspaper she hadn’t had time to read that day.
The room was warm and she fought against drifting off to sleep—it had been a hectic twenty-four hours, and she was feeling the effects of cramming a lot of things into a short time with little sleep. Archie leant cosily against her like a little hot-water bottle and she looked down at the top of his head. He was such a lovable little boy, even if his father was the arrogant Dr Denovan O’Mara!
She sighed softly. A year ago her future had seemed to be mapped out—a wedding, a loving husband, hopefully followed by children like Archie. Then all that had been taken away from her brutally and swiftly, and the children and family life she longed for were nothing but a faded dream.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of the front door opening just as she closed her eyes in a troubled doze. Denovan walked into the room then stopped suddenly when he saw his son and Kerry relaxed together on the sofa. Archie had his head against her shoulder, and Kerry had one arm round him, her freshly washed dark cloud of hair tumbling over the cushion she was leaning against, mouth slightly open as she dozed. He smiled wistfully at the picture they presented—it twisted his heart to see Archie nestled up against Kerry, for it seemed to highlight the lack of a motherly figure in his precious son’s life.
He sighed and pushed that thought to the back of his mind then leant forward and touched Kerry lightly on her shoulder. ‘Sorry to disturb you when you both seem so comfortable,’ he said.
Startled, Kerry sat bolt upright on the sofa and stared at him in surprise. ‘You’ve hardly been gone any time!’ she exclaimed.
‘I haven’t been able to get to the hospital,’ Denovan explained drily. ‘The wind’s brought down several big trees by the riverbank and the bridge has collapsed—there’s no way over the river now, so getting anywhere out of the village at the moment is impossible. It won’t take much for the river to burst its banks completely.’
‘What?’ Kerry gently put Archie to one side and stood up, staring in disbelief at Denovan. ‘The village is cut off altogether? So what’s happening down by the river now?’
He shook his head. ‘People are working like mad, putting sandbags or anything else round their properties to keep the water out. But the most immediate problem is that a woman’s trapped under part of the bridge wall that’s collapsed.’ His face was grave. ‘I’m sorry to say I’ll have to drag you away. We’re both needed urgently, and this woman needs medical help. There’s no way an ambulance can get through at the moment. There are people trying to free her, but she’s bound to have injuries—we should be there.’
The day she’d thought could get no worse had reached rock bottom, thought Kerry wryly. A disaster in the village and no backup from essential services. Kerry hauled on her cagoule and pushed her feet into some wellingtons—she flicked a look at Denovan’s stalwart figure and suddenly she was extremely grateful to have him with her to help, pompous and arrogant man though he was.
‘We’d better take my car,’ she said. ‘It’s a small estate so we could get her up to the surgery in that if necessary. We keep some equipment there for the Mountain Rescue Team—a stretcher, a collapsible splint, blankets and a neck collar, that sort of thing. We can call in and get them.’
‘A good idea,’ said Denovan. ‘It’s very cold out there.’
Kerry noticed the little boy looking solemnly at them both. ‘We’ll drop Archie off at Daphne’s—she’s only a door or two away and I know she won’t mind.’ She bent down and smiled at him. ‘You know that nice lady who gave you biscuits and hot milk this afternoon? We’re taking you to stay with her for an hour or two while your daddy and I go and help a poorly lady.’
Archie’s mischievous blue eyes gleamed. ‘Will she give me some more biscuits?’
‘I dare