The Police Surgeon's Rescue. Abigail Gordon

said apologetically, ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you had a visitor.’

      He smiled.

      ‘Think nothing of it. Maxine Fielding is one of my partners from the practice. She won’t be staying long and as soon as she’s gone I shall be turning in myself. Remember, Helena, if you need anything in the night you have only to call.’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ she said gratefully and turned her face into the pillow, wishing that she didn’t look so ghastly and that she wasn’t wearing the shapeless pyjamas.

      * * *

      Helena cried out in the night and Blake went to her. As he soothed her back to sleep he saw the sedative was on the bedside table. She was a nurse, he thought, and would know that no matter what she took to help her sleep she would awake to desolation in the morning. Clawing her way out of the same kind of black hole that he’d crawled out of every morning for a long time after Anna and young Jason had been killed in a car crash on the school run on a bright spring morning three years ago.

      He still had his dark days but time did heal. It wasn’t just a platitude that was trotted out to help the grieving. Gradually the pain eased and if one was lucky only the happy memories remained.

      Hopefully that was how it would be for his unexpected visitor, only in her case there’d been fear to cope with, too.

      * * *

      When he awoke in the morning Helena had gone. She’d found an empty envelope and had written on the back of it, ‘Have gone home. There is much to sort out. Thank you for last night, Blake. I hope I didn’t disturb you too much as I know you have a busy day ahead. Best regards, Helena.’

      As she’d been writing the note her face had been burning. She’d known that he’d held her some time during the night, but she’d been too exhausted and traumatised for it to register properly, and in the light of day she hadn’t been able to believe that she’d let her nightmares be soothed away by a man she’d only known a matter of hours. Yet it hadn’t felt like that. It had been as if she’d known him always.

      For the rest of the day she tried to keep busy. A police sergeant and a young constable called in the middle of the morning and told her that they were making sure that the newspapers printed an account of her father’s death. That should finally wrap up his connection with the Kelsall case, they told her, and surprised her by saying that it was at Dr Pemberton’s suggestion.

      As she tried to force a sandwich down at midday Helena began to wonder about his visitor of the night before. The aggressive-looking blonde with the cold grey eyes had glared up at her as if she’d been about to steal the silver, and she wondered if they were a couple. She hoped not. Blake Pemberton deserved better than that. Much better.

      She was humbly grateful that he’d agreed to attend her father’s funeral with her. For the moment she couldn’t think any further than that. But once it was over it would be decision time, and of one thing she was certain—she wasn’t staying in this house.

      Maybe she could find something in nursing over here with accommodation thrown in. The authorities in the UK were always saying there was a shortage of nurses. It might be the time to test the water.

      * * *

      The practice meeting in the late morning was going smoothly enough, with the manager announcing that they were meeting their budget and Blake’s two partners for once not bickering. But it took a downward turn when a letter from one of the two practice nurses was read out, asking that she be permitted to leave at the end of the following week. No reason was given but most of the staff were aware that she’d just found herself a new man, a Welshman, and wanted to move to Wales to be with him.

      ‘Shall I advertise?’ the practice manager asked, and Blake shook his head.

      ‘Let’s leave it for a few days,’ he suggested. ‘I might know of a replacement. If nothing comes of it we’ll advertise then.’

      It would be one way of keeping an eye on Helena, he was thinking. Purely from a protective point of view…of course. Not for any other reason. She’d felt so fine-boned and vulnerable both times he’d held her close that he knew he would be on edge if she was out of his sight in the weeks to come.

      He was worried because she had no one to turn to but himself. Yet wasn’t he in a similar position? But he had a lot more going for him. He had the practice, his job with the police and his own home. In other words, plenty to occupy him…

      As they left the meeting to go out on their calls Blake was waylaid by Maxine.

      ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Has she gone?’

      ‘If you mean Helena, yes,’ he told her coolly. ‘I’ve left it to her to decide if she wants to come back tonight.’

      She was eyeing him dubiously.

      ‘You’ll have people talking.’

      He laughed and her face tightened.

      ‘Maybe it’s time I gave them something to talk about.’

      ‘I could help with that,’ she said skittishly.

      ‘I was joking, Maxine,’ he told her. ‘Anna would be a hard act to follow and I don’t see suitable replacements on every street corner.’

      He could tell that had gone down like a lead balloon but she didn’t get a chance to reply as a patient she’d seen earlier was hovering. Relieved to be away from her, Blake set off on his rounds with the intention of making Helena’s house his first stop.

      ‘Why didn’t you stay for breakfast?’ he asked when she opened the door to him.

      She looked awful. There were dark smudges beneath eyes that were red-rimmed with weeping and her face was even paler than the day before.

      ‘How much sleep did you get?’ he asked, as the doctor in him took over.

      ‘Some,’ she replied, with her face warming again at the memory of how he’d held her in his arms and comforted her in the dark hours of the night. To cover her confusion she said, ‘I’d like to invite you for a meal to make up for all you’ve done for me, but I haven’t got around to doing any food shopping, and as Dad lived rather frugally there isn’t much in the fridge.’

      ‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you cook for me,’ he said immediately. ‘You’re in no fit state. But there’s no reason why we can’t eat out. I’ll take you for a meal. It will be one way of making sure you’re managing to get some food down.’

      His glance was taking in the uncluttered worktops and a sink bare of used pots. ‘Unless you’re a very tidy person I would guess that you’ve had nothing so far.’

      Was he overdoing the caring neighbour bit? he wondered. She’d turned away and was staring through the window. Maybe she was finding him too overpowering.

      Yet she was saying, ‘I’d like that. To dine out. It will help to take my mind off everything for a little while.’

      He was smiling and Helena thought that this attractive stranger really was doing his best to be supportive, but there was still one thing that Blake Pemberton couldn’t make right for her, even though he’d done his best.

      She pointed to the early edition of the evening paper lying on the kitchen table, and as his gaze transferred to it she said, ‘On the inside page.’

      Blake picked it up and turned to where she’d said and his eyes narrowed as they focused on a short piece at the top of the page. The police had done as he’d suggested. It said that James Harris, the main witness in a recent gangland trial, had died of natural causes the previous day. That was all, but hopefully it would be sufficient.

      It was the kind of scenario that he’d been on the edge of in some of the incidents where the police had asked for his assistance in recent months. Especially in some of the more run-down parts of the city. So it wasn’t all that new to him.

      But to this