Yeah, fat chance, Sarah thought grimly as he disappeared in search of Alistair. Dr Rose with a love-life?
Dr Rose with nothing.
Feeling closer than ever to breaking point, she made her way back to the doctor’s quarters and spent an hour making a casserole from Max’s offerings. It didn’t help her aching heart, but at least… Well, cooking was comfort. Cooking was something she turned to in moments of absolute bleakness.
Like now.
Alistair walked in as she was spooning the casserole onto a plate. Not that she felt like eating. It was the cooking that was important.
‘Help yourself,’ she told him, and sat and started to eat. Or sat and started to toy with the idea of eating.
He cast her an oddly questioning look, but she wasn’t giving any answers. Finally, without comment, he helped himself to a plateful of casserole and sat down with her. He took a forkful and paused.
‘Mrs Granson didn’t make this.’
‘You’d make a fine detective.’
‘You made it?’
‘Well done. Great deduction.’ She wasn’t looking at him. She was concentrating fiercely on her food. ‘Did Howard give any information?’
He sighed. And moved on. It was the only thing to do. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Larry’s pretty sure he knows little himself. Larry showed him the three passports and he said he hadn’t a clue how they got there. He’s still in a fair amount of pain, and he retreated into feigned sleep, but he said enough for us to realise he’s no brain. He’ll have been used. He provides a base, and food for people as they come through, but he asks no questions and is told little.’
‘You don’t think he knows their nationality?’
‘I suspect he hasn’t even heard of any countries smaller than the United States. He’s a serious no- brainer.’
She winced. Another avenue blocked.
More pain, she thought. Her feeling of helplessness was intensifying by the minute-and this man’s presence on the other side of the table didn’t help at all.
There was a deathly silence, broken only by the sound of Flotsam scratching a flea under the table. It was almost unbearable, Sarah thought. Unbearable…
‘Sarah?’
‘What?’
‘What I said to you in Theatre,’ he said at last. ‘Putting your actions in the same context as what Barry did to Amal. It was unforgivable.’
More silence. Flotsam’s leg thumped the floor in a steady rhythm. He was really enjoying his scratch. Sarah stirred her casserole a bit. It was chicken in an orange sauce with Asian vegetables. Max had done her proud, delving into the depths of his cold store for things he kept for his favourite customers and insisting she take them all. But she couldn’t face it. She might just as well be sitting before one of Mrs Granson’s offerings.
What was she supposed to say to this man? she wondered. What? There was nothing.
It seemed he knew he had to speak again.
‘I was appalled,’ he said at last. ‘Shocked. Sick at heart. I wanted to lash out and you were there.’
‘So you lashed out at me?’
‘Yes. Unforgivably. I’m sorry.’
‘But you’ve wanted to lash out at me for six years.’
There was a further silence. It was becoming a habit. Some more casserole stirring. Finally Alistair put down his fork and sighed. He looked up and met her gaze straight on, unflinching.
‘That’s right,’ he told her. ‘I have. Of course I have. And you’re right in that my anger with you is behind a lot of my tension now. Grant was my twin. I don’t know whether you can understand it, but twinship…it’s as if you’re half of a whole-and when it’s ripped away…’
She swallowed and stared at her plate. Half of a whole? Was that how Grant had seen his own twinship? She didn’t think so.
‘You didn’t get on,’ she said bleakly.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘We didn’t. We were different people. But that didn’t stop me being Grant’s twin brother. I’m sure he felt the same. We had our differences, but we would have defended each other to the death.’
Would they? Sarah stared across the table at Alistair and thought, Yes, she could see that in this man. But in his twin?
As he said, they were very different people.
‘I had no right to throw it at you this afternoon,’ he said heavily. ‘Sarah, you’ve changed. I know you have. I can’t get past my anger at Grant’s death-I never will-but it did happen six years ago, and I’m starting to realise that you’ve paid a price, too. You’re a different person to the one you were then.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ She’d been listening with a certain amount of sympathy, but at this her anger surged again. She’d changed, had she? Learned remorse? Learned not to be such a bad little girl that she’d drive a car when she was drugged? That was so good of him. To concede that…
‘Hear me out.’ He was watching her. It was obvious that he saw her anger, but she could see that he didn’t understand. ‘All I wanted to say was that whatever’s changed in you, Sarah, keep it. With Amal this afternoon you were a caring and compassionate human being-’
‘As opposed to what?’ she said dangerously. ‘As opposed to the drug addict of six years ago?’
His face shuttered and she could see him recoil. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’
‘You did bring it up,’ she managed. ‘And how do you think it makes me feel? To be put in the same category as Barry?’
‘I didn’t mean-’
‘You did mean.’ She ate a few mouthfuls of her casserole, heaven knew how. The lovely food was threatening to choke her. Finally she pushed her plate back and rose.
‘Grant had been drinking,’ she said conversationally, and Alistair met her gaze head-on.
‘I know,’ he conceded. ‘Of course I know. So he holds a share of responsibility. Grant got into the car with you when you were on drugs. You don’t think I blame him at all? Of course I do. He was stupid and reckless, and I’m not so blinded by loving my twin that I can’t accept his stupidity. But you were behind the wheel.’
She could break this now, she thought. She could smash his memories of his beloved brother.
But were those memories all she’d thought they were? What had he said? That Grant had been stupid and reckless. Yes. Yes, he had. And more.
But Alistair still loved him. Could she destroy that? She’d come so far down this road. How could she back out now?
She couldn’t. She found now that she didn’t even want to. She’d carried this with her for so long that to destroy it… She glanced across at the photograph on the sideboard-Grant laughing and Alistair smiling down at him.
No. She couldn’t, and she didn’t wish to. Not now. Never.
‘I’m going for a walk,’ she told him. ‘I’ve eaten enough. I’ve listened to enough.’
‘I’ve apologised.’
‘Yes, and I’m very glad you did. It was incredibly noble.’
‘You lost your fiance, too,’ he said, looking up at her with eyes that were intent and searching. ‘You loved Grant, too.’
Had she?
‘Yeah.’
‘Sarah…’
‘Leave it.’ She bit her lip and carried her plate to the sink. ‘Leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I come back. I need to go.’
Flotsam came with her. The little dog had decided Sarah was a fun person to be with. He attached himself to her heels and was the only comfort available to her.
The night was still and warm. Sarah walked slowly down the track from the hospital leading to the beach behind.
