Nurse In Need. Alison Roberts
eyebrows creased a fraction. ‘What have you got on your feet?’
Amy didn’t dare look at Jen’s expression. She took a long swallow of her champagne before poking her foot further out from the folds of the dress. ‘What’s wrong with my shoes?’
‘Nothing at all, dear,’ Lorraine assured her. ‘Except they’re flat. One should never wear flat shoes with evening dress.’ Lorraine Wesley laughed tolerantly. ‘In fact, one should probably avoid wearing flat shoes at any time.’ The older woman was turning away as she spoke. ‘Ah, Rodney! How fabulous to see you again.’
‘I should have told her I have flat feet,’ Amy muttered rebelliously. ‘And I need the shoes to match.’
Jennifer was looking unusually serious. ‘Doesn’t she know why you wear flat shoes?’
‘Of course not.’ Amy looked uncomfortable. ‘I’d better go and find Nigel. Excuse me.’
‘No, you don’t.’ Jennifer was following her. ‘I want to know something, Amy Brooks.’
‘What?’ Amy stopped near the string quartet. The music covered their voices.
‘Has Nigel ever tried to take you dancing on one of these weekly dates you’ve been having?’
‘No. We usually have dinner or go to a concert or movie. Or both. You know that.’
‘Has he ever seen you in a short skirt?’
‘Do I ever wear short skirts?’ Amy countered.
‘Exactly.’ Jennifer lowered her voice. ‘Have you slept with Nigel Wesley, Amy?’
‘Jen!’ Amy looked quickly over her shoulder.
‘Have you?’ Jen persisted.
‘Not exactly,’ Amy admitted reluctantly.
Jennifer sighed with exasperation. ‘Amy, how could you even think of marrying a man who doesn’t even know about something that significant in your life?’
‘He knows about my leg,’ Amy muttered. ‘He just hasn’t seen it. It’s not that significant, anyway. Or it shouldn’t be.’
‘But it is,’ Jennifer contradicted. ‘You know it is, Amy. It was the reason you broke up with what’s-his-name—that chap you were almost engaged to before you moved to Christchurch.’ Jennifer sounded desperate. ‘Amy, you can’t marry Nigel Wesley.’
‘Yes, I can,’ Amy said quietly. ‘It’s my choice. He asked me and I said yes.’
‘But why?’ Jennifer wailed softly.
‘Because I want a family,’ Amy said sincerely. ‘I want children. So does Nigel. He’ll be a good father. He takes his responsibilities very seriously.’
‘That’s not enough,’ Jen told her.
‘He loves me,’ Amy said firmly. ‘And I love him.’
‘Do you?’ Jennifer’s mouth twisted doubtfully. ‘Do you really love him?’
‘I think so,’ Amy replied. ‘Who really knows for sure?’
‘I would,’ Jennifer said with conviction. ‘And so should you. This isn’t good enough.’
‘It’s all that’s on offer.’ Amy drained her glass and set it down on a side table. ‘And I’m not going to lose the only chance I might ever get.’ She could see Nigel approaching. So could Jen.
‘He looks just like his mother,’ Jennifer observed casually. ‘Except she hasn’t got the beard…yet.’
Amy had to smile, she couldn’t help herself. Nigel was tall, slim and dark like his mother. His hair was swept back to sit neatly on his head. Everything about Nigel was neat. His black dinner suit fitted perfectly. The bow tie sat perfectly straight. His beard and moustache were trimmed with military precision. The impression of intolerance to anything stepping out of line was undermined only by the charming smile he directed at Amy.
‘I thought I’d lost you, darling,’ he said. ‘Come on. There’s someone I really want to introduce you to. Stuart Latimer is visiting from London.’ He linked Amy’s arm through his, gave Jennifer an apologetic inclination of his head and pulled Amy away. ‘You haven’t got a drink yet,’ he observed in surprise. ‘Let me find you a glass of champagne.’
Stuart Latimer was a large man, currently in conversation with Lorraine Wesley. He was clearly very impressed by the canapés being offered. One hand was covered by a serviette on which several small savouries nestled.
‘Delicious,’ he explained to Amy after they had been introduced. ‘Never tasted anything so good.’
‘They’re not too bad, are they?’ Lorraine looked satisfied. ‘I expect we’ll use these caterers for the wedding.’
‘When’s that going to be?’ Stuart enquired. He winked at Amy. ‘You’re a lucky girl, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, I’m the lucky one, Stuart,’ Nigel put in quickly. He slid an arm around Amy’s waist, which reminded her of her encounter with Patrick Moore earlier that day. She took a gulp of champagne.
‘October, we thought.’ Lorraine was eager to respond to Stuart’s question. ‘In a month or so.’
‘Did we?’ Amy was startled.
‘In the garden,’ Lorraine added.
‘Really?’ Amy twisted to look at Nigel. ‘I don’t remember discussing this.’
Nigel and Lorraine exchanged a glance. ‘We’re getting ahead of ourselves,’ Lorraine apologised. ‘After all, we haven’t even announced the engagement.’
‘Any chance of some more nibbles?’
‘Of course, Stuart.’ Lorraine looked relieved. ‘Come with me and we’ll find someone to look after you.’
Nigel steered Amy towards another knot of people. ‘I haven’t told you how gorgeous you’re looking tonight. Just perfect. You must wear your hair loose like that more often.’
‘I’ve got flat shoes,’ Amy confessed.
‘Of course you do. High heels wouldn’t be very practical for you, would they?’
‘Your mother thinks flat shoes should never be worn.’
Nigel smiled. ‘Don’t listen to my mother.’ He bent his head close to Amy’s. ‘She can be a bit overbearing at times.’ Nigel’s breath tickled Amy’s ear. ‘We’ll make our own decisions, Amy. You and me.’
Amy took a relieved swallow of her drink. She had nothing to worry about. Nigel could handle his mother. They would choose their own wedding arrangements. She would get married in a church, just to go against Lorraine’s wishes. They would have it catered by a restaurant. And Amy would wear completely flat shoes. Amy smiled brilliantly at Nigel before turning to the man beside him.
‘You know Murray Brownlie, don’t you, Amy?’
‘Yes.’ Amy’s smile was now shy. She had seen the eminent head of general surgery on many occasions but never on a social basis. Amy listened to the rest of the introductions and then caught the surgeon’s eye.
‘Did you operate on Daniel Lever earlier today?’
‘The young man whose car had the argument with a truck?’ Murray Brownlie nodded. ‘Indeed I did. He was lucky to survive.’
‘I hear he needed a splenectomy,’ Amy said. ‘Was that the main source of the abdominal bleeding?’
‘Hard to say whether the spleen or the liver was winning in the blood loss stakes. We ran through twelve units of whole blood before we had things finally sorted. We used autologous blood as well.’
‘That’s