Summer Fling

She turned to Ethan. ‘Didn’t you bring a car?’

‘I’ve been working abroad until recently. I took the train but my car is being delivered later today. I gave them the address of the surgery.’

‘In that case, you’ll need a lift to the surgery. It’s too far to walk.’

Ethan shifted his case into the other hand. ‘Let me carry the box for you.’

‘All right. I’m not one to reject a chivalrous gesture, even in the twenty-first century.’ She relinquished the parcel and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. ‘Don’t drop it. It’s a new defibrillator. One of those ones that talks to you, although, knowing my brother, if it starts to give him instructions he’ll probably argue with it.’

Ethan took the parcel from her and followed her along the quay, watching the way everyone converged on her.

‘Kyla.’ An elderly woman crossed the street to speak to her. ‘I read that leaflet you gave me about strengthening your bones …’

‘Glad to hear it, Mrs Porter.’ She paused, her smile friendly. ‘All OK?’

‘Oh, yes. It advised you to walk more and lift weights. I’m a bit too old for the gym, so I filled some empty milk bottles with water and I’ve been using those.’

‘Great idea. Well, if you have any questions you can find me in surgery and we can have a really good chat. And don’t forget to speak to Evanna about doing her exercise class.’

She walked on a bit further before she was stopped by one of the fishermen who was untangling his net. ‘Nurse MacNeil—I need to have those stitches of mine taken out.’

‘How’s the leg feeling?’

‘Sore.’

She nodded. ‘It was a nasty cut. You need to keep it up when you’re resting. Pop in on Friday and I’ll take the stitches out and take another look at it. If you need antibiotics, I can have a word with Logan.’

She walked on, somehow managing to acknowledge everyone’s greeting in a friendly manner while avoiding lengthy conversation.

Ethan watched in silent admiration, trying to imagine something similar happening in London and failing. In London everyone kept their eyes forward and went about their own business. ‘You know everyone.’

‘This is an island, Dr Walker. Everyone knows everyone.’ She scraped her unruly hair out of her eyes and lifted an eyebrow in his direction. ‘Is that going to be a problem for you?’

‘Why would it be?’

Her glance was assessing. ‘You’re a city boy and the one thing that you can guarantee in a big, soulless city is anonymity. And that suits some people. Not everyone wants folks knowing their business.’

A city boy.

Ethan thought about the places he’d worked in, the dust, the heat and the sheer weight of human suffering. She had no idea. Oh, yes, he’d experienced anonymity. The sort where you shouted and no one listened.

Kyla lengthened her stride, nodded to an elderly woman who passed and then paused to stroke a baby who was cooing in a pushchair. ‘Can’t believe he’s two months now, Alice. Make sure you remember to bring him to clinic for his injections.’ They moved on and Ethan watched as she pulled a set of keys out of her jacket pocket.

‘Anonymity is one thing but time off is another. How do you switch off and keep people at a distance?’

‘On the whole people are pretty good about not invading our privacy. If I’m wearing lipstick and heels and have a drink in my hand, they know better than to expect me to discuss their haemorrhoids.’ She juggled the keys in her hand. ‘But it’s definitely a close community and that can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the person you are or what you happen to be doing at the time. If you’re not careful you can find yourself doing impromptu consultations on every street corner. Not that I mind in some cases, but generally speaking I want to feel I have a life outside work. We need to get a move on. The surgery is ten minutes’ drive from here, in the village.’

He glanced around him. ‘Thi

s isn’t the village?’

‘No, Dr Walker. This is the quay. People live dotted all over the place, which makes it a laugh a minute when you have an urgent house call, as you will soon discover.’ She stopped by a tiny car in a deep shade of purple. ‘Hop in. We’ll go to the surgery and I’ll introduce you to my brother and then I’ll drop you at your cottage before I go back to my clinic.’

‘This is your car?’ He glanced at it in disbelief and she scowled at him across the top of the car, the expression in her blue eyes suddenly dangerous.

‘If you’re thinking of making a derogatory remark about the colour, then I advise against it. I happen to be very attached to my car. And so should you be, Dr Walker, because if it weren’t for my car, you’d be walking up that hill with your luggage as we speak.’

Even on such a short acquaintance, he could see that she was a woman with a warm heart and a fiery temper. The combination was intriguing. For the first time in months he found himself fighting the desire to smile. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that lurid purple is my favourite colour?’