His Perfect Bride? (2 page)

If she turns around I’ll see she’s got wings on her back.

But there were no wings. Just another tattoo. He couldn’t make out what it was from this distance…

And the hall was full! Here were people and patients that he knew well. People who suffered from arthritis and hip problems and knee problems. And here they all were, shaking their booty with the best of them, smiles plastered across their faces.

They must be off their meds.

Or their heads.

One of his patients, Mrs Macabee, noticed him from her position midway down the class. ‘Ooh, hello, Dr James! Fancy seeing you here! Are you joining us?’

He watched Mrs Macabee tilt her hip up and down, up and down. He blinked his head to clear the image, remembered what he was there for
and then smiled politely. ‘Sorry, Mrs M, I don’t dance—and besides, I’m here on business.’ He had to raise his voice to be heard.

‘This is
business
?’ She laughed as she followed their new GP in her instructions.

He simply couldn’t believe it. Here was half the village, packing out the small hall—young and old, self-respect be damned, all kitted out with hip scarves and coin-edged skirts, shaking their backsides and waving their arms about.

The music was catchy, though, and he was unaware that his foot had been tapping to the beat until it suddenly stopped and everyone started clapping each other. Their new GP was thanking everyone for coming…patting herself down with a soft, pink towel.

There were lots of people fighting over each other to go to her and thank her for so much fun, the best time they’d had in ages, et cetera, et cetera.

Olly pursed his lips as he waited for everyone to file out after handing back their belly-dancing garb. He nodded hello at a lot of them.

His father looked bemused. ‘Why are you smiling so much?’ he asked his old man.

‘It’s the look on your face.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’

Patrick laughed. ‘What’s
right
with it? You look like you’ve been sucking lemons.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

His father was being silly. Of course he didn’t look that way. Why would he? That would imply that he was jealous of this woman or something, wouldn’t it? And he had nothing to be jealous of! So she’d got the village out to an exercise class… So what?

The pixie came over, towelling her face dry. ‘Hi!’

She was still full of energy, it seemed, and appeared quite happy with the way the class had gone.

His father stepped forward to make the introductions. ‘Lula—this is my son, Oliver. Olly, this is Dr Lula Chance.’

He held out his hand to shake hers, aware of how much the bangles jingled as he did so. ‘Lula? That’s an odd name—where’s that from?’

‘It’s short for Louise. I prefer Lula. Like hula.’

He looked at her bare slim waist and womanly curves. ‘And do you?’ he asked, dragging his eyes back up to her face.

‘Do I what?’

He swallowed hard. ‘Hula?’

She beamed a dazzling smile in his direction and it was like being smacked in the gut.

‘I’ve been known to.’

She was patting her chest with the towel, attracting
the attention of his gaze, and he had to fight
really hard
to keep his eyes on her face.

‘So you’re the guy with the list?’

Olly’s cheeks coloured—and not from the cold. ‘I am. Nothing’s private here, it would seem. Welcome to village life.’

Patrick laughed and laid a hand on Lula’s shoulder. ‘Well done, Lula! Getting everyone out like that! Your class seemed a success!’

She nodded, her blue, purple and pink fringe quivering around her face. ‘I hope so. The first class was free, to get people interested. The real test is in seeing if they come back and pay for it.’

‘The real test is making sure none of them have a heart attack. Have you got oxygen on standby?’ Olly asked.

Patrick laughed at his son. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now—to business. Have you moved in yet?’

‘My boxes are in the car. You’ve got the key to the cottage?’

Olly looked up, his sulk gone. ‘Which cottage?’

She frowned. ‘Erm…Moonrose Cottage, I think it’s called. Is that right, Patrick?’

Patrick? She’s calling him Patrick? What happened to Dr James?

‘Moonrose? You’re moving into
Gran’s
old cottage?’

His father looked at him sternly. ‘Yes, she is—and
you’re going to help her.’ He handed over the key.

His dad
knew
how he felt about Moonrose Cottage! It might be his gran’s old place, but it was also where his own mother had grown up. The place had special memories. If they let it out to this pixie then God only knew what she’d fill it with. Parties, or raves, or something equally mad. Moonrose was a quiet, sedate house. Charming and conservative and quintessentially English.

‘But I’m on call.’

‘And Lula, here, has offered to be on call with you whilst you help her unpack.’ He grinned. ‘Isn’t that kind of her?’

Olly looked at Lula and raised an eyebrow at those large brown eyes twinkling madly at him and doing weird things to his stomach and other body parts.

‘It is. Thank you, Lula. Though you must be tired—travelling, running a dance class, moving in, going on call?’

‘I like to pack a lot into life.’ She dabbed at her chest with the towel and again he had to concentrate really hard not to look.

‘You don’t say?’

Patrick stepped away. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Olly, I’ll walk back home— it’s not far. You go on with Lula and I’ll see you both in the morning.’

He shook Lula’s hand and then waved goodbye and stepped out, leaving Olly and Lula alone.

Olly felt uncomfortable. There were no women like Lula in Atlee Wold. Vivid and bright and crazy and…

And what?

‘So, Moonrose Cottage, eh?’ He stared at her hair. So many colours…like a rainbow.

‘Yeah… Strange name, I thought.’

‘It’s after the Blue Moon roses my gran planted when she was a little girl. They’re all around it and they won prizes in the village show. If you’re still here in summer you’ll see them in bloom. They’re quite beautiful.’

She smiled. ‘I’m sure they are.’

‘So, shall I give you a hand to pack all this bling away?’ He pointed at the box full of coin-edged skirts and multicoloured scarves she’d given to his patients.

Lula laughed. ‘Thanks. It
is
a lot of bling. The hall warden said I could store it below the stage.’

‘Okay.’

He helped her lift a large bag through the stage door opening. They were about to leave when Lula pointed out a couple of boxes covered by thick blankets.

‘Could you help me take those out? They’re mine. I couldn’t leave them in the car.’

Olly nodded and hefted the two boxes one on
top of the other, hearing metal clank inside. Then they left the village hall, pulling the door closed after switching off the lights.

Outside, the snow was lit by the fairy lights, so it blinked softly in reds and blues, yellows and greens. It was really quite pretty, and had the effect of making Lula look even more multicoloured than she had been before. Like a peacock.

Definitely a magical fairy.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He blinked. ‘Sorry?’

‘You were staring. At me.’ She grinned.

Olly licked his lips, thinking quickly. ‘Ah, right…yes. Erm…I was just wondering where you’d parked your car? I don’t see one.’

She pointed, her hand seeming to twinkle in the lights as they reflected off her rings and bangles. ‘I parked down the road. I wanted the patients to be able to park close.’

‘That’s kind.’

She accepted the compliment. ‘Thank you. I try to be. So…?’

‘So…?’

‘Will you drive in front? Show me where the cottage is?’

Of course! Idiot! Stupid!

‘Sure. But let’s make sure your car starts first.’

‘Oh, she always does.’

‘She?’

‘Betsy.’

‘Your car is called Betsy?’

‘Betsy the Bug.’ She stopped in front of a red car with large black polka dots on it, like a ladybird.

Once again Olly was left standing mute and blinking. After a moment he managed, ‘Cute.’

‘I think so. Here—why don’t you put that large one in the front? This small one can go in the boot.’

Her engine rumbled into life straight away and he pointed out his four-wheel drive, further up the road. Lula said that she’d wait for him and he walked back up to his car, his boots crunching in the snow, muttering to himself.

‘Dad, I’m going to kill you… What on earth have you done?’

As a choice of locum she was a tad…out there. Not the sort of locum he’d expected his father to hire. There had to have been plenty of other doctors he might have chosen from. Sensible, sedate people. The type to blend in with village life.

Not this firecracker…

His four-wheel drive started first time and he indicated to pull out, noticing her following him through the high street. He took a left and kept looking in his rearview mirror to make sure she was still there. Still following.

He thought of his ‘perfect wife’ list.

She didn’t match any of the items on it.

But he felt mysteriously intrigued by her.

Bewitching. That’s what she is.

* * *

Lula followed Olly through the village roads, realizing she’d made a big mistake. When she’d come for her interview with Patrick, she’d known she was getting involved with a father-and-son team and that had seemed fine. But Patrick was a silver-haired fox, with sparkling, kind eyes, and she should have just
known
that the son was going to be drop-dead gorgeous. However, she hadn’t worried too much about it. She’d concentrated much more on her other reason for coming to Atlee Wold and assumed that Patrick’s son would be just another person to work with.

But when he’d walked into that village hall… It had been as if a film star had walked in. She’d half expected to see paparazzi following him in. Gorgeous and sexy, yet a down-to-earth guy. She’d tried to ignore him so that she could carry on with her class. She’d even stumbled over her steps. But thankfully no one had seemed to notice.

And now she was following him. Through the snowy streets. In Betsy. Following his old jalopy.

Olly had pulled up outside a small thatched cottage surrounded by tall briar wood. It looked pretty, and she could only imagine how gorgeous it
might look in the summertime, with its white walls and blue roses, butterflies and bees flitting about the place. There was an arched trellis over the front door, with what looked like an ancient Russian vine growing over it.

It really wasn’t that far from the GP surgery, or the village hall, and she hoped that tomorrow she could try walking in to work. She had a pair of wellies somewhere in one of the boxes she already had in the car. A small removals lorry would drop off her other stuff tomorrow.

He stood back so she could make fresh tracks in the snow to the front door, and then he passed her a key.

Smiling, she took it and tried to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry—I’ll look after the place.’

‘I’m sure you will. Shall we get the lights on, the fire burning and then get your boxes in?’

Lula nodded. ‘Sounds great.’ Though it might be a bit awkward, the two of them alone before a roaring fire…

The key turned easily and she pushed open the door, wondering what to expect. Patrick had agreed to let the cottage out to her at a reduced rate and the price was very reasonable. She certainly wouldn’t be able to get a place in London at the rate he’d given her—not even a bedsit! And here she was with the key to a beautiful, thatched, two-bedroom cottage.

Inside, she found the light switches and gasped in delight. The low roof created an immediate intimacy in the small rooms. The lounge furniture was covered in white sheets, but when she removed them she found old, chintzy chairs, with scatter cushions made from patchwork, and an old green leather sofa. The walls were whitewashed, with exposed dark beams, and there was a good-sized fireplace already stacked with logs.

‘Shall I start the fire for you?’ Olly said.

Lula smiled. ‘That’s okay. I can do it. Why don’t you get me those boxes from Betsy?’

He nodded, but she could tell he would have been a lot happier playing with the fire.

Typical man.

She liked Olly already. He was charming and old-fashioned and very English. He had classic good looks, with dark blond hair and bright blue eyes like Chris Hemsworth.
Just my type.
But, despite the handsome looks and the knockout body, she hoped she didn’t have to worry about there being an attraction between them whilst they worked. It wasn’t the sort of thing she was looking for. Not here. There were other reasons for her being in Atlee Wold and romance wasn’t one of them.

The firelighters worked quickly and Lula soon had a bright orange flame licking at the wood. There was a stack of old newspapers to one side,
and she screwed up a few and inserted them into gaps in the wood to help it. Soon the crackling flames had taken hold and the fire began to build. She stood warming her hands as Olly came barging in, carrying the larger of her two blanketed boxes.

‘What’s
in
this thing?’

She took it from him, looked around and saw a table in the corner that looked suitable. Setting the box down, she freed the blanket and whipped it off. ‘Say hello to Nefertiti and Cleo!’

She saw him take a step back, his mouth open in shock and horror. ‘Are they…
rats
?’

Lula grinned and bit her lip as she stooped down to open the door of the cage and both rats—one dark brown and one pure white with pink eyes—climbed out onto her hands and ran up her arm to sit on her shoulder. ‘Dumbo rats. Aren’t they beautiful?’

He looked carefully at her, as if judging her sanity. ‘They’re
rats
.’

‘They’re very intelligent animals.’

‘So are dolphins, but you don’t have two of those, do you?’ He watched the rats play around under the dark wisps of Lula’s hair, their noses and whiskers twitching. Then he had a sudden dreadful thought. ‘What’s in the other box? The one in the boot of your car?’