Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 3 (62 page)

It was two weeks since the car accident. Two weeks in which Gabriel had been supportive, caring and concerned. He hadn’t pressured her at all, had asked no questions, but she feared he suspected things were not right. It had made things tense between them. Physically things were as wonderful as ever, but she’d been more reserved, concerned about what was wrong with her and trying hard to hide it. She felt guilty. Gabriel would be hurt if he thought she didn’t trust him. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t him. She was scared…terrified. How long could she continue to deny the problems with her sight? It was one thing to fool herself, quite another to put other people at risk.

The young driver who had crashed into her was being prosecuted. Not only had he been driving while disqualified and without insurance, but it turned out he had taken the car without permission. Crashing into her had been a minor sideshow compared to the other charges against him. Her car had been towed to a garage and, as nothing vital had been damaged with the chassis frame or alignment, it was being repaired. While she waited for the work to be done, the insurance company had arranged for a rental car for her.

Although the days continued to lengthen and the nights became shorter, she refused to venture out after dark. During daylight hours, she had been too nervous to do more than the
basic local travel she needed to see those patients who relied on her for home visits. Even then she was taking extra care and time. It was an impossible situation and one she knew could not continue.

However scared she was, she had to talk to someone—a doctor—and find out once and for all what was wrong with her eyes. She admired Nick, but she couldn’t feel comfortable seeing him and discussing something like this. Dragan and Adam were delightful colleagues, but she knew it would be Oliver to whom she would turn. She trusted him. Despite being aware she was putting him in a difficult position, she knew he would not tell Gabriel, Chloe or anyone else anything she told him in confidence.

She was still undecided what to do when the door in front of her suddenly opened and she stepped back with a gasp of shock, her hand dropping to her side and her startled gaze clashing with Oliver’s.

‘Hi, Lauren. Were you coming to see me?’ His easy smile faded as he looked at her. ‘Is something wrong, sweetheart?’

Much to her dismay, she felt an uncharacteristic welling of tears. She
never
cried. What was the matter with her lately? ‘No, I—Sorry…’ Horrified, she heard her voice break and felt the moisture on her cheeks.

‘Come here.’

Oliver gently drew her inside his consulting room and closed the door. He led her to a chair and sat her down, pulling another up so he could sit beside her, his arm around her shoulders as he held her close. After pressing a tissue into her hand, he waited in silence while she gathered her composure.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered again.

‘There’s nothing to apologise for.’ He took her hand, making her feel comforted, safe, less lonely. ‘Lauren, anything you tell me in this room is strictly between us.’

His reassurance gave her the courage to speak up, but also
alerted her to the fact that maybe she hadn’t hidden her problems as well as she had thought. ‘You know why I’m here.’ It was a statement, not a question, and he met her gaze steadily.

‘I think maybe you are ready to talk about your eyes.’

The words were gentle but she flinched nonetheless. ‘How long have you known?’

‘I suspected when I first came here last summer that there was more to your mishaps than clumsiness.’ He paused a moment, his touch gentle as he brushed her hand. ‘There was nothing I could put my finger on at the time.’

‘Does everyone else know?’

‘I very much doubt it. No one has said anything…except Gabriel,’ he added, watching her.

Lauren swallowed against the sudden restriction in her throat. ‘What did he say?’

‘Just that he’d noticed a few things, including how you have trouble seeing in the dark.’ His expression was sympathetic, understanding. ‘He’s worried because he cares about you, but he knew it would be wrong to pressure you, that you needed to come to terms and ask for help yourself.’

‘I see.’

She pulled her hand away and looked down at her lap, toying with the damp tissue. Part of her was relieved, grateful that Gabriel had given her space and not nagged her, but the knowledge that he had guessed all along, had apparently spoken to Oliver about her, made her uncomfortable.

‘Gabriel didn’t betray any confidences, Lauren. It was a one-off conversation after your crash when we both noticed that your right eye appeared…different.’

‘Different how?’She remembered the way Oliver had looked her over, his frown when he had studied her face. At the time she hadn’t wanted to know—now she did. ‘What did you see?’

‘Your eyelid was unusually droopy and you had a squint.’

‘Do you think it was caused by the accident?’ she asked after a short pause.

Oliver shook his head. ‘Gabriel said he had seen it a few days before.’ Sitting forward, he rested his forearms on his knees. ‘He also knows that, should you ever decide to speak to me, I would never break my word to you, as a doctor and a friend, and tell him anything you asked me not to. Are you going to talk to me, Lauren? I want to help if I can,’ he told her, his voice encouraging, cajoling.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, knowing she had little choice but to see this through. ‘But I’m scared.’

‘I’m sure you are, sweetheart, but we’ll take things a step at a time together. OK?’

She nodded. ‘OK,’ she agreed, barely managing to get the word out.

‘Good girl.’ Oliver’s smile carried both relief and gratitude for her trust. He crossed the room, returning after a moment to hand her a glass of water before sitting down again and picking up a notepad and pen. ‘Now, in your own time, tell me what’s bothering you and what’s been happening with your sight.’

After taking a few sips of water, Lauren leaned back in the chair and drew in a steadying breath. ‘I don’t know exactly when I started to notice things or to equate being clumsy with vision problems. It happened so gradually that it crept up on me over years,’ she explained, finding it easier to talk as she found her stride and released so many things she had bottled up and hidden for so long.

She was grateful for Oliver’s patience. He listened without interrupting, silent yet supportive, as she recalled her clumsiness, her lack of hand-eye co-ordination, which had made her bad at team sports at school, and how the visual problems had grown worse in the last few years, how it was only in recent months that the night blindness had deteriorated so
disastrously and how she had stopped painting since the summer when Chloe had noticed differences in her work.

‘I couldn’t even see it at first.’ A fresh wave of emotion hit and she took a few moments to regroup. ‘It was only in good light when I really studied the pictures that I saw the new ones were less sharp, less detailed, that I’d missed things not in the centre of my vision, and that there were subtle changes in depth perception.’

‘And you can’t see anything in the dark now?’ Oliver prompted.

‘No. It’s becoming difficult in shadow, too, even during the day, and my eyes take a while to adjust to sudden changes in light. Even some colours of text on certain backgrounds are hard to distinguish, including the display on my mobile phone.’

He nodded, resting a hand on her arm and giving her a gentle squeeze. ‘Can you tell me what it’s like now? What can you see? How do the visual disturbances happen and affect you? Are they there all the time?’

‘Not all the time. Things come and go, but gradually worsen.’ She frowned, trying to explain, to put the vague impressions into words. ‘Sometimes it’s like a hazy veil is slowly closing in from the sides and I can’t detect things on the periphery of my vision. Things are fuzzy at the edges. The central area is really clear, though, and I can see perfectly. I went to the optician last year and things were fine—but he only checked the basic things like reading the charts and I didn’t mention the other problems I was having. I know it was silly but I was in denial.’

‘Did he check the pressures in your eyes?’ Oliver queried, making a few notes.

‘Is that the little puff of air that makes you jump?’

Oliver chuckled. ‘Yeah. It’s a weird feeling, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Grateful for the easing of the tension, Lauren smiled back. ‘He said the pressures were normal.’

‘Right. That’s fine. And these changes you’ve noticed have been happening over a long time?’

Lauren nodded in confirmation as they recapped. ‘For years the differences were so tiny that they scarcely registered and I guess I deceived myself into believing nothing was wrong. And I found ways of working around things, made excuses for misjudging distances or bumping into things. But I’m worried, Oliver. I can’t keep ignoring it. I’m frightened I’m going to make mistakes.’ She paused and bit her lip. ‘Having found out recently that I was adopted, I have no family medical history to draw on. I don’t know what’s happening to me or what I should do,’ she finished, her voice breaking again as she battled a new threat of tears.

‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ Oliver soothed, drawing her close for a hug. ‘You’ve taken a huge step, and a very brave one, by admitting it and talking about it. You are not alone in this, I promise. We’ll find out what’s going on.’

‘What do you think it is?’ she asked, voicing the fearful question.

Oliver hesitated a moment, raising her concern it might be serious. ‘It could be one of several things, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m going to refer you to an excellent consultant at St Piran. Professor Murchison is one of the best. He’ll talk things over with you and then he’ll do some tests and assessments. When we know what he has to say, we can discuss it again and decide what to do. All right?’

‘All right.’ She accepted a fresh tissue and blew her nose. ‘How long do you think it will be before I can see him?’

‘I’ll arrange it as soon as possible, but the appointment won’t be until after your holiday.’

Lauren bit her lip. ‘We’re meant to leave next Thursday, but—’

‘I know it’s difficult when you’re worried, and you can’t
forget about your eyes, but I want you and Gabriel to go to Giverny and have a wonderful, relaxing time,’ Oliver insisted.

She wanted that, too, so she nodded her agreement. ‘I’ll try. Are you sure you and Chloe don’t mind looking after Foxy?’

‘Of course not. He’s much more comfortable with us now,’ he reassured her with a smile. ‘And he’ll be on familiar territory, too. I know none of us meant for our stay at Gatehouse Cottage to last for so long, but it’s worked out well so far. You just tell us if you want your space back.’

‘No, it’s fine. I know all the repair and renovation work after the flood is taking ages, but we agreed it was important to get those in temporary accommodation at the caravan park back into their homes first.’

‘Not to mention people like Gertie Stanbury,’ Oliver added with an affectionate grin.

Lauren smiled back. ‘Yes. She’s done well at Tom’s place but I know she’ll be much happier when she can return to her bungalow.’

‘I hear it should be ready in another couple of weeks.’

‘Good.’ She paused a moment. While not regretting a moment of her time with Gabriel, living with him at the Manor House meant she had seen less of Chloe and Oliver at home. ‘There’s no hurry on my account for you to move on. I know the cottage in Fisherman’s Row won’t be habitable for a while yet.’

‘I’m not sure we’ll move back there. It’s a bit small. But we’ve not found anywhere else we like. We’re just very grateful to share with you.’

‘Well, I’ve rather neglected you,’ she admitted, colour staining her cheeks.

Oliver chuckled. ‘With good reason. Both Chloe and I are delighted to see you and Gabriel so happy.’

‘Thanks.’ But mention of the man she loved brought a
return of her anxiety. ‘You won’t tell him anything about my eyes or the appointment, will you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Frowning, Oliver closed his notebook. ‘You have to decide what is right for you but, for what it’s worth, my advice is to confide in Gabriel. I know you care about each other. He’s already worried and he’ll want to support you. You need that support, sweetheart.’

But what if there was something seriously wrong? She and Gabriel had made no commitment to each other and she didn’t want him feeling trapped. He had worries of his own, decisions he had to make about his future, and she couldn’t add to his burdens.

‘Lauren?’

‘I’d rather wait, Oliver. Please. I need to have all the facts first, to know where I stand, before I decide what to do.’

‘If that’s what you want,’ he allowed, but she could tell he was disappointed and that he disagreed with her decision. ‘I’ll contact the consultant on Monday and make the arrangements for you to be assessed as early as possible. As soon as I have a date, I’ll let you know.’

A sliver of fear iced her spine. ‘OK.’

‘The appointment and tests might last a while, so you should be prepared to be at the hospital for a few hours. You’ll likely have some drops in your eyes that could temporarily affect your vision, so you shouldn’t travel alone.’ He paused a moment, watching her. ‘If you haven’t told Gabriel or Chloe by then—but I hope you will—I’ll come with you to the hospital myself. You don’t have to handle this on your own.’

What had she done to deserve such wonderful friends? ‘Thank you, Oliver—for everything.’

‘I
T’S
even more amazing than I ever imagined! I can’t believe I’m really here!’ Spinning round, a huge smile on her face, Lauren launched herself into Gabriel’s arms and he caught her in a tight hug. ‘Thank you
so
much for this.’

‘My pleasure.’

And it was. Seeing Lauren so relaxed and happy and engaged was all the reward he needed. With reluctance, Gabriel released her, contented to follow when she took his hand and led him off around Monet’s famous garden. This was her moment, her day, and it was a joy to share it with her.

They had flown from Bristol to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris on Thursday morning. After spending a couple of hours in the city so Lauren could enjoy some of the sights, they had driven their hire car north-east to the hotel where they were staying for their long weekend. Situated in a stunning eighteenth-century chateau an hour from Paris and twenty minutes from Giverny, the hotel was in a beautiful and peaceful setting, the staff friendly and discreet.

Today, Friday, with the weather exceptionally mild for early April, they were enjoying their visit to Claude Monet’s home. Parts of the restored pink-painted house with its green shutters had canopies along the veranda covered in swathes of lushly leaved climbing roses that would look spectacular
when in flower. The main gardens were full of spring colour, the borders packed with tulips, narcissi, forget-me-nots, aubretia, fritilaries and pansies, with irises, geraniums and other perennials coming through, along with the soon-to-flower wisterias, clematis, rambling roses and yellow laburnums, which draped over arches and pergolas. Cherry and crab-apple trees were also in bloom and looked magnificent.

Lauren chattered freely and he was happy to listen, to live the experience through her. As she made notes and sketches and took endless photos on her digital camera, he indulged himself and watched her, unable to banish his concern about her behaviour since the crash. Physically she appeared fine, but…He frowned. She’d been different these last days, distracted and distant.

Things had been hectic at the surgery. He’d been out almost all night the previous Friday, missing Eve Dwyer’s farewell as he and Chloe had worked together to bring Diane Bailey’s second daughter safely into the world. He’d arrived home in the early hours to be welcomed to bed by Lauren who had made love to him with an almost frantic urgency. He still sensed that desperation and restlessness in her and he hoped their few days away would enable him to get to the bottom of what was driving her.

‘Can we go and find the Japanese water garden?’ Lauren asked, pausing to consult her map of the site.

‘Of course.’ He brushed a few strands of caramel-coloured hair—the natural blonder streaks shimmering under the spring sunshine—back behind her ear, then dropped a quick kiss on her smiling mouth. ‘We have to go through the underground passage to the other side of the road.’

‘Great!’

Her enthusiasm was infectious and her delight at finding the famous waterlily pool with its weeping willow trees and the graceful wooden bridge, so familiar from Monet’s paintings, filled him with warmth and love.

‘It’s a shame we’re too early for the waterlilies themselves, but it’s just magical here, Gabe,’ she murmured, awe in her voice as she snuggled close to him.

‘We can come again at a different time of year.’

She didn’t respond to the promise with the pleasure he expected. Instead, he felt her tense. She withdrew, using the pretext of taking more photos, but he experienced a real sense of fear, an inner chill, that in some intangible way he couldn’t understand, Lauren was slipping away from him.

Giverny was as magical as Lauren had imagined it would be and it was even better to be sharing the experience with Gabriel. He was puzzled by her, she knew, and she tried her best to hide the fact that she was distracted by following Oliver’s advice to make the most of this short holiday and set her worries to one side. It wasn’t easy.

How ironic that she should be here at this time. The place inspired her to paint but her nerve had failed her because of her vision problems and she had made excuses not to pick up a brush since the previous summer. For the first time, faced with the reality that she might never paint again, she felt grief at the loss of the activity that had been such a part of her. And yet Monet, one of the world’s greatest artists, had produced some of his best and most well-known works while living here amidst this landscape he had created and when he’d been suffering from his own loss of sight.

Aside from never-to-be-forgotten memories, she took endless photographs which she would download to her computer so she could share them with Chloe, who was excited and envious of her trip. She would also email some to Vicky, who was currently in California, the latest stop on the band’s tour. Not that Lauren had divulged much to her curious and gossipy friend about Gabriel and, with the
worrying issue of her eyes coming to the fore, she was even more glad now that Vicky was away and otherwise occupied.

The whole weekend was wonderful. They breakfasted on chilled fruit juice and fresh warm chocolate croissants at the hotel, and she wondered how many miles she would have to jog to burn off all the extra calories when they went back home.

On Saturday they went to the nearby town of Vernon. As well as visiting the museum, which held some of Monet’s paintings as well as many other interesting exhibits, they also enjoyed seeing the old mill on the Seine and Bizy castle.

While she savoured every moment of being with Gabriel, exploring the local area or relaxing at the hotel, and making love with fervour every night, Lauren couldn’t shake off her edginess. She was aware all the time of the sword of Damocles hanging over her. When she returned to Cornwall on Tuesday, this special time out of time would be over and she would have to face reality…the appointment with the consultant which Oliver had scheduled for the end of the week. An appointment which could reveal the true state of her visual problems.

She loved Gabriel so much, but she couldn’t tell him so until she knew what was wrong with her and what, if anything, she had to offer him. For now she would not burden him with her worries and confusion. Not until she knew exactly where she stood and what the future held for her. What if she had some kind of tumour or something? If things were bad, she knew he wouldn’t desert her, but that was part of the problem. She wouldn’t want him to stay for the wrong reasons, couldn’t bind him to her out of pity. Despite how her feelings had changed, they had made no promises to each other and were taking things one day at a time until his contract in Penhally Bay came to an end.
If
her situation proved to be bleak, she would have to set Gabriel free. He had his own issues to face. But the very thought of him no longer being in her life, of
never being able to touch him, kiss him or make love with him again, was too painful to contemplate.

On Monday morning, after a lingering shared shower, they were enjoying a walk in the hotel grounds before breakfast and discussing their plans for their last full day in France when Gabriel’s mobile rang. Lauren noted the frown on his face when he took out the phone and looked at the display.

‘It’s François,’ he explained, surprise evident in the huskily accented voice that still sent tingles down her spine. ‘Sorry,
chérie
, I’d forgotten I had left the phone on. Is it OK if I speak with him?’

‘Of course.’

She knew the two men kept in touch but it was unusual for his friend to call at this time of the day, especially when François knew they were having a few days away. Despite Gabriel teaching her some French these last months, she didn’t follow much of the conversation, but the changing expressions on his face made it clear that whatever news his friend was imparting was unexpected and of some importance. A flicker of unease rippled through her.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked as he hung up but remained rooted to the spot, looking stunned. Closing the gap between them, she took his free hand. ‘Gabe?’

He shook himself, his fingers linking with hers as if he needed the contact. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he murmured, sounding shaken.

‘Come and sit down.’ Concerned, Lauren led him to a rustic seat on the edge of the woodland path. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I had not told anyone but François my address in England. As you know, I needed space from Yvette and her scheming,’ he explained and Lauren nodded, still gripping his hand. ‘François had a letter this morning from the firm of solicitors in Paris who did work for my father. They have been trying to find me.’

Lauren frowned. ‘Does François know why?’

‘Yes…in part.’

‘And?’ she whispered, the tension growing with every passing second.

Dark eyes focused on her and she saw the whirl of emotion in them. ‘And they have found something I should have received two years ago. It was mislaid.’

‘Mislaid?’ Lauren swallowed, barely managing to force the words out. ‘What is it?’

‘A letter—to me—from Papa. He didn’t forget me, Lauren.’

His shaky smile and the roughness of his voice undid her, and she wrapped him in her arms, holding him tight, hoping and praying that his father’s last words would help to ease the pain inside him and provide answers to some of his questions.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind doing this?’ Gabriel asked for the umpteenth time.

They sat in the foyer at the solicitors’ office in Paris. He shifted restlessly, anxious about what was to come yet filled with gratitude for Lauren’s support. From the moment he had received the news from François, she had been adamant that they change their plans and return to the capital straight away. After a hasty breakfast, they had packed their things and settled their bill with the chateau owner, apologising for their premature departure.

‘I don’t mind at all. This is important, Gabe,’ she reassured him now, her hand resting on his thigh. ‘We’ve had a wonderful time and now we need to be here.’

The sudden events had distracted him from his worries about Lauren, the feeling he had that something was wrong and that, despite their physical closeness, she was emotionally withdrawing from him.

‘Dr Devereux?’ The receptionist, a trim brunette, claimed their attention. ‘Monsieur Picard will see you now. You go up the stairs and take the second door on the left.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Do you want me to wait here?’ Lauren asked.

Feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and uncertain, he shook his head. ‘I’d like you to come with me.’

‘No problem.’ Rising to her feet, she slipped her hand into his and gave an encouraging squeeze. ‘Let’s go.’

All too soon they had reached the designated room and were greeted by Monsieur Picard, a dapper man in his early sixties, who welcomed them with a gracious smile, switching to English with ease when Gabriel informed him that Lauren’s French was not proficient.

‘Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Can I offer you some refreshment?’ the man enquired as he took his own chair behind a vast leather-topped desk laden with folders.

‘No, thank you.’ Gabriel hoped Lauren wouldn’t mind him speaking for them. He felt on edge, wanting only to take possession of his father’s letter. ‘It is pure chance that I happened to be in France when the message came through. I understand you have something that belongs to me.’

The solicitor’s expression turned grave with apology and discomfort. ‘Yes. And I cannot say how sorry I am. The fault was entirely ours. The envelope was misfiled and only came to light in the last week. We did not have your current address on file, hence the further delay in contacting you,’ the man explained.

‘And this letter…it is from my father?’ Gabriel asked, cursing the unsteadiness of his voice but drawing strength from the way Lauren’s fingers tightened on his.

‘Yes,’ Monsieur Picard continued, opening the file in front of him and withdrawing a white envelope. ‘This was meant to be given to you in the event of your father’s death.’

Gabriel’s hand shook as he took the envelope the solicitor handed to him. ‘Thank you.’

He looked down at it, saw his name typed on the front, and
was filled with a mix of fear, hope and curiosity about what it might contain. The next moments passed in a blur. He signed a release form, then Lauren handled the pleasantries of departure before guiding him out of the building and encouraging him on the short walk back to the hotel they had booked into for their final night in France. Once there, Gabriel sat on the bed and stared at the envelope in his hand.

‘Would you like me to leave you alone for a while?’

‘No!’ Surprised by Lauren’s question, he looked up at her and shook his head. ‘Please, stay.’

With care, he finally slit open the sealed envelope and withdrew several sheets of thick cream paper. His heart lurched at the sight of his father’s familiar large, sweeping handwriting in the dark maroon ink he had always favoured for his fountain pen. A few photographs fell out and he picked them up, shocked to find himself staring at an attractive young woman with long dark hair, a laughing face and wide dark eyes. He turned one over and read the note, name and the date written on the back before passing it to Lauren.

‘My mother,’ he managed, staring at the other pictures of the same woman with his father as a young man.

‘She’s beautiful, Gabe.’ Lauren’s whispered words and the emotion in them brought a lump to his throat. ‘You have her eyes…and her smile.’

Scared he wasn’t going to hold things together, he sucked in a steadying breath, returned his attention to the letter and read it through. By the end, he was feeling awed and immensely grateful, as well as emotional. He looked back at Lauren, saw the concern and care in her grey eyes, and desperately needed to share with her, and her alone, what he had just learned about his father and himself.

‘It’s in French,’ he told her. ‘I’ll translate it for you.’

‘If you’re sure.’

He just hoped he could reach the end without making a fool of himself. ‘I am.’ That said, he read the letter again, this time aloud…