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Excerpt from The Surgeon's Blade
Prologue
Playing this game was a major enjoyment. It had been played many times before, and this time, it was proving even more of a thrill.
The watcher spotted her immediately. She was seated at a table for two, and from the number of times she had glanced at her watch, it was obvious she had been stood up by her date. The watcher was cautious by nature and covertly observed the woman from a chosen seat which was half-hidden in the shadows behind a potted palm. She was one of those women in their thirties who looked attractive in a quiet, unassuming way and could have been stunning if she had spent more time over her hairstyle and make-up. Her dress was an off-the-rail model, most probably from one of the departmental stores and in a different colour would have enhanced her appeal. Unfortunately, the dull fabric did nothing for her hair and skin colouring.
The watcher had seen her many times around the hospital and knew who she was. She came across as confident and sure of herself as far as her work was concerned.
She now sat alone and forlorn, casting wistful glances at those couples who sat with bent heads sharing a whisper and promise of the night to come. Minutes later, she answered a call on her mobile phone with nervous girlish pleasure, but her face paled in distress as she replaced it into her evening bag. The watcher knew instantly how easy it was going to be and smiling coldly, raised a glass with a slight movement in her direction and offered a silent toast.
Why waste time yearning over a date that would never show when your prayers have been answered, dearest girl, the watcher demanded silently. From now on, you’re mine, all mine.
Chapter 1
Three o’clock. The dead hour. It was the rain lashing against the window that woke Libby. Cursing under her breath, she glanced at her clock on the bedside cabinet and contemplated the day ahead: nearly three-thirty. She must be mad! At the end of June, the weather really should be fine. ‘Flaming June’, they called it. Well, there hadn’t been too much flaming lately. This was the fourth day in a row of seemingly endless downpours. Dratted weather! Well, she was committed to today’s race, and there was nothing she could do but put on a smiling face.
Less than an hour later, showered and dressed, Libby had a quick breakfast of toast and tea and headed for the door. Her cat followed her and meowed loudly as Libby put on her jacket. The fluffy pale ginger cat was obviously thinking her mistress was quite mad, not only for disturbing her slumber at this untimely hour, but for leaving the flat on such a cold and wet day. She sat on the rug looking quite put out.
“Okay, Rommie, I’ll see you tonight. Don’t fret. The automatic feeder is primed to open for your tea, and I’ve left you plenty of biscuits in the meantime. If you feel you can bring yourself to use the cat flap, please do, because I don’t want any little accidents before I return.”
Libby reached down and gave Rommie a final stroke, thinking the cat had the right idea. The morning so far looked awful. She had a quick look round her flat, mentally going through what she would need for the day: wet weather gear, life jacket, and sailing gloves. She noticed the framed degree certificate upon the living room wall. ‘Olivia Hunter, registered nurse.’ It was a long time since she’d been called Olivia; not since her parents had been killed. With a shrug, she picked up her bag and locked the door behind her.
Despite the foul weather, she was excited. Being chosen as part of the crew on a fast yacht for the Isle of Wight’s prestigious ‘Round the Island Race’ had a certain cachet, and she had been delighted when Nigel had chosen her. It was Libby’s first major sailing event, and Nigel’s reputation as a first-class skipper was well known in the yachting fraternity.
Libby unlocked the door to her Mini and threw her bag down onto the passenger seat as the rain splattered against the hood of her jacket. She had promised to pick up Jem, another crew member, before going to the marina where ‘Tourbillon’ was moored. Jem, like her, was in his late thirties and worked in the Southampton General Hospital and loved sailing.
Jem was a good friend to Libby and had been instrumental in helping her get the post of junior sister on the general surgery ward. He had been there ever since he had first qualified, whereas Libby had come down from London, looking for a place nearer the sea to work. She had met him on a course in London some years back, and on their first introduction, they had hit it off. Over the past few years, six-foot-four Jem, muscle-bound and fun-loving, had become her biggest friend and confidant.
Libby parked her mini outside the house Jem shared with his partner, and not wishing to antagonise the neighbours by hooting at an early hour, she ran the short distance up the flooded garden path to his door. The door opened at Libby’s knock, and Jem ushered her inside.
“I’ll be ready in a jiffy. I’ve just been listening to the national news on the telly. Hang on, I’ll turn it off.” Jem walked into the living room and crossed over to the television. “It sounds like there really is a dangerous weirdo stalking nurses in London. Another nurse was assaulted during the night at St Thomas’s Hospital. Very few details have been released by the police though: only that she’s being treated for shock.” Shrugging on his waterproof jacket, he picked up a bag lying near the door and gestured to Libby to precede him.
She paused in the doorway. “That’s awful. Isn’t that the third one now?”
He nodded. “Fourth, if you include that girl who was raped after accepting a drink from a stranger in that Southwark pub. What was it called? I think it was the Golden Ram or something like that. Of course as that was a sexual attack it might have come from an entirely different person. But all these assaults are now really serious.”
“They’re awful. I’d forgotten that girl. She wasn’t a nurse though, was she?”
“No, but she’s a radiographer from the same hospital. The police haven’t said for certain whether they think it’s the same attacker. And if you add these girls to the two who went missing in the last year or so, then London has a big problem on its hands. Come on, we’d better run for it.”
Libby led the way as she pelted back down the path, aiming her remote ignition key at her Mini with Jem close on her heels.
“Blimey! What a day,” he said, squeezing his long legs into her car. “Makes you wonder if it’ll be worth it.”
“It’ll be worth it just to see the look on Sebastian Carr’s face when we overtake him at the Needles.”
Jem gave a chortle of laughter. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
“No. He’s too self-centred and full of it for my liking.”
“And what about our mysterious skipper, Nigel, then? He’s from the same mould, same university and medical school. I noticed he’s been paying you lots of furtive attention lately when he thinks no one’s watching.”
Something in his dry tone of voice caused Libby to take her attention off the road to look at him. She knew she had given herself away when she felt her cheeks flame.
“I am right, am I not?” he said gently, giving her a little pat on the knee.
“Yes.” She sighed. Jem always guessed when she was seeing someone new, and she had hoped to keep Nigel secret for a tad longer. Nigel had been quite adamant over that. How on earth did Jem do it?
“So what’s he like? I know most people think he’s the proverbial enigmatic, tall, dark-haired, and good-looking male with wads of cash, but what’s he really like under all that expensive designer gear? I bet he’s married.”
Libby gave a smile, as she remembered the times they had been together recently. Nigel had been very attentive. She thought work and pleasure rarely mixed and despite her best intentions not to get too involved, she eventually succumbed to going out with him.
“He’s nice. I know he’s a brilliant gynaecological surgeon and apparently can be a bit overbearing in theatre. But outside work he has a good sense of humour, and he treats me well.”
“Aha. And?”
“And nothing. Stop it, Jem. That’s all you’re getting out of me.” She swerved to avoid a cyclist wobbling dangerously in the nearside gutter. “We’ve been out together a few times during the last month, that’s all, and for God’s sake please don’t tell anyone.”
“Why ever not? Is Mr St John married then? He’s a bit of a dark horse, if you ask me, I’m not sure I trust him.”
“No one is asking you to, Jem. But as you asked, and I know you’ll never give me any peace, I’ll tell you. He was married and is now separated. He and his wife live apart. And as for keeping it quiet, just honour his request, okay?”
There was a short silence as Jem digested this titbit of news, giving her the briefest of nods. “I was right then.” He eventually spoke.
“Right about what?”
‘Him being married. They’re all the same, these big-shot surgeons. He’s been here…what, less than a year, and all the single female staff are dying to get their hands on him and about half the married ones too. I wonder what attracts them. He’s certainly not my type.”
She gave a laugh. “Jem, he’s a nice man. Underneath his obvious good connections and money, he wants a normal life just like you and me.”
Jem gave her a hurt look as if to say, “Are you being funny?” and turned on the radio. They listened in silence as the newscaster finished his report and changed topics to the weather.
“Well, that sounds a bit more hopeful. ‘Becoming sunny and drier before mid-morning, with fresh south-westerly winds up to 20 knots’. We should have a cracking sail once we get out south of the island.” He rubbed his hands with glee. “Can’t wait.”
Libby returned his smile, glad to be off the topic of Nigel. She knew Jem would try keeping her secret safe, but at the same time, she realised he was only human and could easily forget. Juicy gossip sped like wildfire around the hospital, and she didn’t want to be the subject.
He was right though. Nigel was everything he had said and more. Libby knew about his marriage to Stella. He had been quite open during their second date together, telling her they had married when they were still at medical school and how they had been far too young.
~~~~~
“We should have listened to our parents,” he had said. “They urged us to wait until we’d qualified, but like most students we knew best. After we left med school and channelled our time and attention into our chosen career paths, we found we had no time left for each other. Of course, we still had the common ground of medicine to share, but apart from that, there was nothing else. We’d grown up and grown apart from each other. I’m surprised we stayed together as long as we did. It was most probably a mix of things: money, not upsetting our families, apathy, and I suppose convenience. It is often easier to do nothing. We’re still on remarkably good terms and see each other whenever she comes over from the States.”
Libby nodded, playing with the stem of her wine glass as he explained. If anything, she was a bit surprised at his openness.
“Were there…did you have any children together?”
“Thankfully, no. Children would have made everything much more complicated. Stella wasn’t keen once we’d passed our final exams. She was eager to make her name as a psychiatrist, and she’s doing just that in New York and London. Children were way down the list,” he said, giving her a grin which made him look younger, boyish even. “No ties there either.”
Libby smiled. “She’s very clever and a wonderful speaker. I attended a few of her lectures when I was working in London. She certainly knows how to hold an audience, and her voice is captivating with an almost hypnotic effect on the listener.”
Pushing back his shirtsleeve, Nigel glanced at his watch, and Libby caught sight of a tattoo on his wrist. She recognised it as Caduceus, the medical symbol or the Physician's Staff tattoo. Nigel caught her look and smiled. “I know. I abhor tattoos too, but Stella made me have it done while we were still students. It was bloody painful too. Do you know the Caduceus derives from the Greek 'karykeion', meaning 'staff of the herald’? It was the symbol of the power to harm or to heal. It appears in images of the ancient Egyptian god of wisdom, Thoth, as a magic rod with twin snakes. I’ve seen other variations showing a staff entwined with twin serpents, topped with a pair of wings or a winged sun and no snakes. Originally, those twin snakes may have been ribbons attached to the wings, eventually evolving into serpents. Interesting, eh?”
“I know what it represents, but not the full explanation.”
“Have you finished? Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?”
Libby weighed the pros and cons of spending more time in his company. It was a tempting thought to go and see where he lived and how he spent his free time. It was only their second date, and she did have to work tomorrow. Spending time back at his place could well lead to things being misunderstood or getting out of control, and that was the last thing she wanted. She considered herself fairly broad-minded. She wasn’t a prude but neither was she ‘easy’.
She shook her head and gave him a smile, replying. “No thanks. Not tonight, if you don’t mind. I have an early start tomorrow. Lisa, Sister Williams, is off, and I’m in charge. We have a full theatre list, so it’s bound to be frantic.”
Nigel gave her a rueful look as he handed the waiter his credit card. “We’ll make it next time then. My apartment has a splendid view of Southampton Water. It looks very romantic lit up at night.”
Nigel drove her home and didn’t put pressure on her to let him in. He escorted her to her door and, after a chaste kiss, asked to see her again over the weekend. He suggested going for a sail on his yacht, just the two of them, and thrilled with the idea of being on a sailing boat once more, Libby happily agreed.
Libby smiled as she remembered that day. There had been little wind for any real sailing, and they ended up anchoring in a tranquil inlet bay, north of the Isle of Wight. It was far too cold for a swim, but they were content to laze around in the sun, sampling a delicious lunch hamper Nigel had picked up from a ship’s caterers before leaving the marina.
It wasn’t before long Libby had nodded off, lying on the thick cockpit cushions. Nigel had roused her and suggested a siesta down below. Feeling lethargic and sleepy after a fine lunch and a bottle and a half of champagne, Libby nearly agreed. The main cabin on the Swan was huge, and Libby had done a double take when she had first seen the size of the wide bed. Nigel was considerate and tender, but something made Libby waver. She asked herself, why not? It had been a long time since she had had a proper sexual relationship, and Jem was always telling her she was too picky, too choosy. ‘It’s about time you lived a little,’ Jem had said on more than one occasion. “And I know you won’t thank me for this, but it’s also time you got over your last disastrous affair.”
Libby knew Jem was right, but still she hesitated and put Nigel off with a laugh and a joke. She wanted to be quite sure this time. She had come out of a relationship feeling bruised and hurt far too many times. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex – she did, but all too often, she had gone out with men who wanted sex on their first date, and it was becoming tiresome. Libby did have some moral standards.
Libby’s introduction to Nigel’s yacht had taken place a month ago, and now they were seeing each other on a regular basis a couple of times a week. As far as Nigel was concerned – and he had told her on several occasions – he was serious. Libby kept quiet, feeling there was no rush. She wanted to be sure.
They were discreet in their dating – at Nigel’s insistence, as he loathed hospital gossip of any kind – and Libby agreed to go along with his wishes. A secret liaison held a certain sparkle, and Libby found herself caught up in the excitement of it all. They would make their relationship known when they were both ready.
~~~~~
That morning, when they arrived at the marina on the River Hamble, everything was hustle and bustle. Up and down the pontoons, scores of boat crews were checking sails, removing surplus weighty items and generally enjoying the mounting excitement before a big race. The rain had eased off, and a thin, watery sun was peeking between the thinning early-morning clouds.
Libby and Jem picked up their kit bags and made their way down to Tourbillon’s berth. The Swan 60 was a new design, sixty feet long with a large and well-protected cockpit. Her sea trials had shown superb race performance levels, and she was both comfortable and fast for cruising and offshore racing. Nigel had spared no expense when he purchased this sleek, sexy racing machine.
Tourbillon lay snugly against her fendered berth. Her hull was a gleaming navy blue, polished only days before by the yacht service agents. Her mast stood tall and proud, towering above most of the other craft lying in their own berths. Her halliards were cleated off, and there was only the bare whisper of a ringing as metal struck metal. She looked fantastic, expensive and racy.
As Libby and Jem approached the boat, they espied a tanned Nigel standing on her deck, deep in discussion with another man dressed in white polo shirt and shorts. A blue emblem on his breast pocket portrayed the name of the yacht, and Jem gave Libby a nudge.
“By the look of things, I reckon he’ll be the navigator, don’t you?”
She didn’t have a chance to reply, as Nigel turned towards them at the sound of their footsteps on the wooden pontoon and raised a hand in greeting. When he caught sight of Libby, his smile broadened into one of admiration.
Libby returned his smile, relieved that despite her early start, she had spent some time over her appearance. Nigel was appreciative of her looks, and Libby knew by his high standards, he expected her to look gorgeous at any time, day or night. She sported a new haircut: mid-blonde, short and feathered at the ends. The hairstyle had cost her a lot more than usual, but she knew it suited her elfin face and emphasised her enormous brown eyes. After applying a little discreet lip gloss and a hint of eye shadow, she felt good and knew that Nigel welcomed her effort. He gave her a helping hand as she said with a laugh, “Permission to come aboard, Skip?”
“Libby, you look positively ravishing this morning. I love the new haircut by the way. Morning, Jem. Feeling fit? Hope you’re ready to grind those winches!”
“Thank you. Where shall we stow our stuff?” she asked.
“Anywhere below in one of the forward cabins will do. Grab yourself a coffee while you’re down there, I’m just going through racing tactics with Ian here. Do you know each other?”
Neither Jem nor Libby had seen him before and shook their heads before they said ‘hello’.
Ian was as stocky as Nigel was tall. He had a shock of startling red hair and a mass of freckles covering his pale face. He looked Libby over appreciatively when she turned to leave them and make her way below. He twisted back round to Nigel with a grin. “She’s a bit of a looker, isn’t she?”
~~~~~
Tourbillon slipped her berth in good time before the race start. Once they had cleared the Hamble River, passing the moored boats along the riverside, they headed south-west down Southampton water and into the clearer waters beyond. The Swan had a deep keel, perfect for slicing through the water, but it meant that careful pilotage had to be maintained through the narrow channels of drifting shingle and sandbanks.
That day’s race was the biggest of its kind. Over 16,000 professional and amateur sailors were involved, with 1900 boat entries all vying for glory in their class. The race commenced at Cowes on the Isle of Wight and headed westwards through the challenging Needles channel, south towards St. Catherine's Point, and then back round to the finish line off the Royal Yacht Squadron yacht club in Cowes. The course was 63.3 miles long, and the monohull record stood at 3 hours, 53 minutes and 5 seconds. Nigel’s boat was entered along with 23 other boats of the same class, and he was very keen to do well.
Coffee and sandwiches were distributed among the boat crew as they idled to and fro off the Cowes waterfront. Literally hundreds of other craft had turned up to see the start of the race: family yachts, motor boats, ferries, and even a pleasure steamer or two.
Ten minutes before countdown, Nigel, at the helm, was frantic as he jostled for space between two other yachts in his class. The tension was palpable as the countdown begun. The warning guns were fired – three minutes, one minute…they were off!
The open-flat racing boats and the multi-hulls shot ahead, desperate to find clear water and get out of trouble. Libby heard shouting over on her left as she sat with her legs over the starboard side of the yacht. Turning to see what the noise was about, she was in time to see three boats collide with sickening force. She was horrified to see what looked like a brand spanking new yacht with a hole torn in its left side as another one thrashed around with half of its boom and rigging hanging in the sea. She shuddered, unable to believe what had just happened. That could so easily have been them if Nigel wasn’t such a good helmsman.
Tourbillon tore along on a close-hauled starboard tack. Her sails filled, and she heeled over in the fresh wind, gaining speed as the crew settled down.
~~~~~
The race was on. Tourbillon had found a nice open stretch of water with Nigel’s friend and rival, Sebastian, about a quarter of a mile ahead off to their port side. They had rounded the north-west corner of the island without mishap, and the Needles were just ahead. Libby knew all about the Needles: a row of three distinctive stacks of chalk rising out of the sea. There was a buoy that marked ‘safe’ water, and Libby knew they had to keep this to port unless they wanted to run aground on the treacherous shingle bank. Many a ship had come to grief there.
Sebastian’s own Swan, ‘Four Fine Winds’ was maintaining her speed and as Nigel urged his crew to tweak the sails, Libby felt the boat’s speed go up a notch as Tourbillon settled into her racing groove. Light spray caught Libby in the face, and she laughed in delight as the excitement of the race took hold of her. The yacht came off a wave and surged through the surf.
Four Fine Winds would surely reach the Needles buoy and round it before Tourbillon, but Nigel was winding the boat up and putting on the pressure. Hearing Libby’s laugh, Nigel gave her a roguish grin and beckoned her over to stand near him.
“Morning, sweetie. Sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you yet. How are you doing?” he said, giving her a quick hug with one arm and snatching a surreptitious kiss.
“I’m fine, thanks. This is such fun and so exciting, I can’t remember the last time I was part of a race,” she said with a laugh. “I’m pleased to be here.”
“I’m glad I suggested it. Listen, we’ll make tonight special. I’ve got a huge surprise for you. Now, if only we can beat that bastard to the mark. Can you see him ahead? Where is he exactly?”
Libby moved over to the port side of the yacht to take a peek under the headsail. She knew there were only 100 metres to go before the buoy. Before she could get into position, there was a faint shout coming from their left. Libby heard the indistinct voice across the sea, and suddenly, she realised that someone was yelling, “Water! Water!” The other yacht wanted Tourbillon to give way to them.
Four Fine Winds was bearing down on them at an alarming rate. In panic, Libby stood back up to attract Nigel’s attention and warn him of the sudden danger. His face was a picture of concentration and determination as he bawled at his crew, “Make ready the chute!” Three hefty crew were dragging the lightweight spinnaker along the deck, getting ready to hoist the sail as soon as they turned the corner. Libby scrambled to the other side of the deck as the wind freshened, and the boat heeled further over, the crew along the side sitting high above the water. She crabbed back to her original position practically on all fours while screaming a warning to Nigel as the shout came again.
This time there was no mistake. “Water!” and Nigel heard the terror in the voice. With a horrified look, he spun the wheel and the massive boom shot over to the other side of the boat.
There was a sickening crunch of metal upon flesh and the boat slewed over. Nigel was bellowing for assistance, the sails were flogging, and Libby was thrown into the water.
“Man overboard!” shouted Jem, rushing to the side and pointing at his stricken friend. Without waiting for an order, he grabbed a lifebuoy and jumped overboard to help her.
~~~~~
Nigel gave the command to slow the boat right down and turn into the wind. The crew released the sheets (ropes) allowing some wind to escape from the sails. A small group gathered on the side of the yacht, looking anxiously down into the turbulent sea, pointing to an unconscious Libby, supported by her lifejacket which had self-inflated. They could see Jem’s head and shoulders with the lifebuoy as he battled the short distance against the waves to where she lay, not moving.
As he reached her, a jubilant cry went up, and they shouted encouragement as Jem got the lifebuoy under her arms and manhandled her back towards where Tourbillon wallowed in the peaks and troughs of the swell, barely making way.
Four Fair Winds was off to one side and Nigel and Sebastian were having a shouting match. While they were arguing about whose fault the near collision had been, Jem had managed to bring an unconscious Libby alongside, and with help from the other crew, they dragged her on board using a ‘man overboard’ sling.
Nigel was still at the helm, patently not trusting any of the crew to take over. He had his work cut out to avoid another collision as other yachts streamed past them. Ian came up from below and took in the scene.
“I’ve radioed a medical pan-pan,’ he said, looking grimly at Libby where she lay on the deck, water streaming from her. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Good, then we can get underway. Come and take the wheel will you? And for God’s sake, watch out. We don’t want another mishap. ”
Nigel handed the helm over to Ian and climbed out of the cockpit to take a look at Libby. She had a large gash down the right side of her head and was bleeding, her blood mingling with the seawater onto the teak deck.
“Hand me the first aid box. Now let’s get her fixed up and ready for the helicopter. It’ll be arriving any minute now. Once she’s airborne, we can continue with the race. We’re nicely ahead of the pack, and I believe we can still pull this off. It was that bugger Sebastian’s fault colliding with us, and I’m going to make sure the race marshals know that. Jem, get changed out of those wet clothes. I want you back on the winch as soon as possible!”
Chapter 2
Shocked, Jem looked at Nigel, scarcely believing his ears. What was it he had just said? Irrespective of whose fault it was, Nigel had an unconscious woman, a crew member, lying on his boat. At the very least, he was responsible for the well-being of his crew. Here he was, still anxious to get back into the race. What an unfeeling bastard!
Jem opened his mouth to protest as the first sounds of the helicopter filled the air. He gave a withering look at the top of Nigel’s head as he stood up and contemplated what to do.
He was furious with Nigel over his cavalier attitude. “Are you escorting her back to land?” he asked.
Nigel glanced up, a surprised look on his face. “Who me?”
“Yes, you. As the skipper responsible for our well-being and—” He stopped, knowing full well Libby would be upset if she knew he had mentioned her and Nigel’s relationship.
“I may be responsible for my crew, but it wasn’t my fault. No, I won’t be escorting her. The pilot and winch man will have their work cut out without having to worry about another passenger.”
“Passenger? She’s your bloody girlfriend, isn’t she?” Jem growled at him.
Nigel took a quick look round, as if making sure no one else had heard him. The deafening sound from the helicopter drowned out their conversation. “Just keep your thoughts to yourself, matey. Our relationship is purely platonic, and our business is no one else’s.”
“But surely, you’ll want to—”
Nigel stood up as Ian shouted, “The helicopter pilot is on the radio, Skip. They want to talk to you.” He tossed a handheld VHF radio over to Nigel once he had re-entered the cockpit and taken back the helm. Ian moved over to Jem, who had remained by Libby’s prone body. “How’s she doing?”
“Not so good. She’s still unconscious and bleeding quite a lot from her wound. It’s a horrible gash, and so far, I can’t get it to stop bleeding. She might be left with a scar. Pass me another pack of swabs will you?” Feverishly, he tore apart the wrapping and applied a fresh gauze pad to Libby’s wound.
‘Shame, such a good-looking girl, too. But you never know, they can do wonders these days.”
Jem did know because he worked in Accident and Emergency at Southampton General. He was sure, once she received full medical treatment in hospital, her bleeding would cease. At the moment, he was more worried about her mental state. Libby had suffered a considerable blow to her head from the boom as it swung from one side of the boat to the other in the forced gybe. If only that idiot Nigel had been paying more attention. All this could have been avoided. Jem couldn’t really understand Nigel’s apparent lack of concern. He was after all a man of medicine, a healer, and yet, the race appeared to be uppermost in his mind. Withholding a snort of disgust, Jem decided it took all sorts to make a world. He only hoped Libby knew what she was doing this time. Since he had known her, she had suffered at least two disastrous relationships, and after the last one, her confidence had suffered.
“Right, clear the deck you lot. The winch man is going to pass down a stretcher before the diver comes down. On no account is anyone to touch the hi-line transfer cable until it touches the deck. Do you understand? There can be a hell of a lot of static electricity, and it could kill you. Once it’s firmly on the deck, do not tie it on to anything, either. I’m sure you know the drill.” Nigel bellowed. “Once she’s aboard, we’ll get going again.”
There was a series of surprised mutterings at this, and Jem was gratified to see quite a few of the crew looked askance at their skipper. Privately, he considered Nigel to be an unfeeling bastard.
“Come on, look lively. Get the sails ready! We’ve got a race. We’re not finished yet. We can still do this.”
Jem could have hit him.
Chapter 3
Libby felt strange. She was nursing an almighty headache and there was a loud ringing in her ears. Never had she felt so incapacitated. She knew that if she sat up she would be violently sick. Her whole body felt as if it was vibrating, and there was a deafening rumble around her. She gave a groan and closed her eyes.
“Take it easy love. Just lie still.” A dismembered voice muttered in her ear, and opening her eyes, a face swam into her vision. It was slightly skew-whiff and blurred, but squinting, she could definitely see a face.
“Can you hear me?” he asked, bending down towards her ear. She nodded and wished she hadn’t, as everything went black, and a whooshing noise replaced the drone. “You’ve had an accident. Do you remember?”
She struggled to frame the word 'no'.
“Don’t try to move or talk until I’ve done some obs. You’ve got a nasty wound on your forehead, which I’m going to dress. This might hurt a bit. It’s only a medicated swab, nothing more.”
Libby winced as she felt a cold, wet compress upon her face. The astringent antiseptic bit into her raw lesion. “Ow!” she moaned, opening her eyes wide with surprise.
“There. Nearly all done. What’s your name? Can you tell me?”
Libby thought. Nothing. The more she thought, the more she panicked. What was her name? She gave a slight shake of her head and realised tears were welling up. What had happened? Why was she so wet?
“I can’t remember,” she whispered. “What happened? Why am I so wet and—” She struggled to sit up. “Where am I?”
The uniformed man placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. “I’m Jack, by the way. You’ve been in a sailing accident. Do you remember that?”
“No!” Waves of nausea rushed over her. She lay back, beginning to shake with shock.
“Okay, just take it easy. I’ll explain. You were taking part in a sailing race. I believe there was a collision between the yacht you were on and another. During the collision you went overboard. That’s why you are so wet. You’re now on the Solent Rescue helicopter, India Juliet, and we’re flying you to Southampton hospital.”
For some reason, the hospital meant something to Libby, but she couldn’t remember what. She struggled with the grey woolliness in her brain. “Why can’t I remember?”
“By the look of your injury, I would say you hit your head before you went overboard. It’s probably only temporary, and things will begin to come back after you’ve rested. You’ve got quite a bump there. I can tell you that your name is Libby. Your boat skipper gave that to us.”
Libby? Libby? Still nothing. She lay still as misery flooded through her. What on earth was going to happen to her?
“We’ll be there in a short while. Now, if I can just take your blood pressure.”
Libby felt a cuff tighten around her arm. She strained to look around her without moving her position, and as her vision cleared, realised she could see the pilot. She could hear him as he talked into his helmet mike. At that moment, he glanced in the rear mirror in front of him and met her eyes. Despite herself, Libby felt a frisson of interest. She saw nice eyes, a deep green and unusual shade of hazel, green and blue with brown flecks. As she watched him, he swivelled round in his seat with a shaken look. After a moment, his face cleared and he gave her a smile. There was something about that smile that made her feel secure. Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily, and everything was going to be all right.
The pilot turned back to his controls, and Jack said they were about to land. The new helipad at the hospital was in sight.
~~~~~
Libby was dozing when she realised there was someone in the room with her. As she opened her eyes, she noticed the soft evening sunshine throwing shadows on the walls, and with a start, she turned to find the chair next to her bed occupied. He was dark-haired with conventional good looks, a tanned face, blue eyes, and a long aquiline nose. He was dressed in sailing clothes: a polo shirt, trousers and deck-shoes.
“Libby, darling. I’m sorry if I woke you, but the staff said you were awake. I’ve only just managed to get here to see you. The traffic from the Hamble was horrendous.”
Libby stared blankly at the face before her. She had no idea who he was.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “But…who are you?” Her voice wavered.
“Darling, don’t you remember? It’s me, Nigel.”
She hesitated, then, “No. I don’t know you. I can’t even remember who I am.” To her horror, tears were gathering and threatening to roll down her face. “How did you manage to get in? I told the staff I didn’t want visitors!”
“Darling, hush. It’s all right. Why wouldn’t they let me in, they could hardly refuse could they? I am one of the senior medical staff here. Of course, they don’t know about our personal relationship.”
“Relationship?” Libby frowned.
“Yes. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten we’re engaged?”
Engaged? Horrified, Libby struggled to clear her head. Apparently she was engaged to this man, this stranger, Nigel. She lifted her left hand but her ring finger was bare.
Nigel saw her puzzled look and curled his fingers round her own. “Your ring is at the jewellers, darling. Don’t you remember? Since you lost all that weight, your fingers are much more slender. Your ring kept slipping off, and you were afraid of losing it. It’ll be ready for you in a day or so.” He kissed the tips of her fingers. “Don’t worry about anything. You just need to get better.”
She choked back a sob. “How can I not worry? I can’t remember anything much before I woke up in the helicopter,” she said snatching her hand from his – it didn’t feel right somehow.
“I’m sure your doctor has explained your amnesia to you. You fell overboard and most probably hit your head on the boat’s hull. I’m sure your memory will recover in a short time.”
“You think so?”
“Of course I do. You have what is known as post-traumatic amnesia. This is a state of confusion that occurs immediately following a violent head injury. You’ll probably feel disoriented and unable to remember events that happened before the injury. Sometimes new events can’t be remembered either, but it’ll resolve itself.”
Libby wished she felt reassured, but Nigel’s words failed to comfort her.
“I think I can remember a few random things. I don’t remember being on a boat. But I do remember driving my car. A Mini, I think it was. Why can I only remember bits and pieces?” she whispered.
“Well, I’m not a neurosurgeon, but I had a word with the doctor on duty before I called in here. He said that about a third of patients with mild head injuries have 'islands of memory' in which the patient can recall only some events. Your consciousness is 'clouded' and you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia.”
“Yes, he explained that to me too. It’s awful only remembering snippets.”
“Can you remember where you live?”
She wrinkled her nose as she concentrated hard. “Do I have a flat? I think I’m getting glimpses of something like that.”
“Yes, you do. But listen, darling, you were about to leave your flat and move in with me. We had it all sorted out. We decided to live together, don’t you remember?”
Libby was shocked and shrank back upon her pillows. “No. I…I don’t.”
“Well, I can’t see that anything’s changed. It will be for the best. I can keep a proper eye on you. Darling Libby, you need someone to cherish you.”
As Nigel said these words, Libby felt as if she was drowning. Panic gripped her, and an icy feeling ran down her back. It just didn’t feel right.
KOBO BARNES & NOBLE APPLE iTUNES SMASHWORDS
Prologue
Playing this game was a major enjoyment. It had been played many times before, and this time, it was proving even more of a thrill.
The watcher spotted her immediately. She was seated at a table for two, and from the number of times she had glanced at her watch, it was obvious she had been stood up by her date. The watcher was cautious by nature and covertly observed the woman from a chosen seat which was half-hidden in the shadows behind a potted palm. She was one of those women in their thirties who looked attractive in a quiet, unassuming way and could have been stunning if she had spent more time over her hairstyle and make-up. Her dress was an off-the-rail model, most probably from one of the departmental stores and in a different colour would have enhanced her appeal. Unfortunately, the dull fabric did nothing for her hair and skin colouring.
The watcher had seen her many times around the hospital and knew who she was. She came across as confident and sure of herself as far as her work was concerned.
She now sat alone and forlorn, casting wistful glances at those couples who sat with bent heads sharing a whisper and promise of the night to come. Minutes later, she answered a call on her mobile phone with nervous girlish pleasure, but her face paled in distress as she replaced it into her evening bag. The watcher knew instantly how easy it was going to be and smiling coldly, raised a glass with a slight movement in her direction and offered a silent toast.
Why waste time yearning over a date that would never show when your prayers have been answered, dearest girl, the watcher demanded silently. From now on, you’re mine, all mine.
Chapter 1
Three o’clock. The dead hour. It was the rain lashing against the window that woke Libby. Cursing under her breath, she glanced at her clock on the bedside cabinet and contemplated the day ahead: nearly three-thirty. She must be mad! At the end of June, the weather really should be fine. ‘Flaming June’, they called it. Well, there hadn’t been too much flaming lately. This was the fourth day in a row of seemingly endless downpours. Dratted weather! Well, she was committed to today’s race, and there was nothing she could do but put on a smiling face.
Less than an hour later, showered and dressed, Libby had a quick breakfast of toast and tea and headed for the door. Her cat followed her and meowed loudly as Libby put on her jacket. The fluffy pale ginger cat was obviously thinking her mistress was quite mad, not only for disturbing her slumber at this untimely hour, but for leaving the flat on such a cold and wet day. She sat on the rug looking quite put out.
“Okay, Rommie, I’ll see you tonight. Don’t fret. The automatic feeder is primed to open for your tea, and I’ve left you plenty of biscuits in the meantime. If you feel you can bring yourself to use the cat flap, please do, because I don’t want any little accidents before I return.”
Libby reached down and gave Rommie a final stroke, thinking the cat had the right idea. The morning so far looked awful. She had a quick look round her flat, mentally going through what she would need for the day: wet weather gear, life jacket, and sailing gloves. She noticed the framed degree certificate upon the living room wall. ‘Olivia Hunter, registered nurse.’ It was a long time since she’d been called Olivia; not since her parents had been killed. With a shrug, she picked up her bag and locked the door behind her.
Despite the foul weather, she was excited. Being chosen as part of the crew on a fast yacht for the Isle of Wight’s prestigious ‘Round the Island Race’ had a certain cachet, and she had been delighted when Nigel had chosen her. It was Libby’s first major sailing event, and Nigel’s reputation as a first-class skipper was well known in the yachting fraternity.
Libby unlocked the door to her Mini and threw her bag down onto the passenger seat as the rain splattered against the hood of her jacket. She had promised to pick up Jem, another crew member, before going to the marina where ‘Tourbillon’ was moored. Jem, like her, was in his late thirties and worked in the Southampton General Hospital and loved sailing.
Jem was a good friend to Libby and had been instrumental in helping her get the post of junior sister on the general surgery ward. He had been there ever since he had first qualified, whereas Libby had come down from London, looking for a place nearer the sea to work. She had met him on a course in London some years back, and on their first introduction, they had hit it off. Over the past few years, six-foot-four Jem, muscle-bound and fun-loving, had become her biggest friend and confidant.
Libby parked her mini outside the house Jem shared with his partner, and not wishing to antagonise the neighbours by hooting at an early hour, she ran the short distance up the flooded garden path to his door. The door opened at Libby’s knock, and Jem ushered her inside.
“I’ll be ready in a jiffy. I’ve just been listening to the national news on the telly. Hang on, I’ll turn it off.” Jem walked into the living room and crossed over to the television. “It sounds like there really is a dangerous weirdo stalking nurses in London. Another nurse was assaulted during the night at St Thomas’s Hospital. Very few details have been released by the police though: only that she’s being treated for shock.” Shrugging on his waterproof jacket, he picked up a bag lying near the door and gestured to Libby to precede him.
She paused in the doorway. “That’s awful. Isn’t that the third one now?”
He nodded. “Fourth, if you include that girl who was raped after accepting a drink from a stranger in that Southwark pub. What was it called? I think it was the Golden Ram or something like that. Of course as that was a sexual attack it might have come from an entirely different person. But all these assaults are now really serious.”
“They’re awful. I’d forgotten that girl. She wasn’t a nurse though, was she?”
“No, but she’s a radiographer from the same hospital. The police haven’t said for certain whether they think it’s the same attacker. And if you add these girls to the two who went missing in the last year or so, then London has a big problem on its hands. Come on, we’d better run for it.”
Libby led the way as she pelted back down the path, aiming her remote ignition key at her Mini with Jem close on her heels.
“Blimey! What a day,” he said, squeezing his long legs into her car. “Makes you wonder if it’ll be worth it.”
“It’ll be worth it just to see the look on Sebastian Carr’s face when we overtake him at the Needles.”
Jem gave a chortle of laughter. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
“No. He’s too self-centred and full of it for my liking.”
“And what about our mysterious skipper, Nigel, then? He’s from the same mould, same university and medical school. I noticed he’s been paying you lots of furtive attention lately when he thinks no one’s watching.”
Something in his dry tone of voice caused Libby to take her attention off the road to look at him. She knew she had given herself away when she felt her cheeks flame.
“I am right, am I not?” he said gently, giving her a little pat on the knee.
“Yes.” She sighed. Jem always guessed when she was seeing someone new, and she had hoped to keep Nigel secret for a tad longer. Nigel had been quite adamant over that. How on earth did Jem do it?
“So what’s he like? I know most people think he’s the proverbial enigmatic, tall, dark-haired, and good-looking male with wads of cash, but what’s he really like under all that expensive designer gear? I bet he’s married.”
Libby gave a smile, as she remembered the times they had been together recently. Nigel had been very attentive. She thought work and pleasure rarely mixed and despite her best intentions not to get too involved, she eventually succumbed to going out with him.
“He’s nice. I know he’s a brilliant gynaecological surgeon and apparently can be a bit overbearing in theatre. But outside work he has a good sense of humour, and he treats me well.”
“Aha. And?”
“And nothing. Stop it, Jem. That’s all you’re getting out of me.” She swerved to avoid a cyclist wobbling dangerously in the nearside gutter. “We’ve been out together a few times during the last month, that’s all, and for God’s sake please don’t tell anyone.”
“Why ever not? Is Mr St John married then? He’s a bit of a dark horse, if you ask me, I’m not sure I trust him.”
“No one is asking you to, Jem. But as you asked, and I know you’ll never give me any peace, I’ll tell you. He was married and is now separated. He and his wife live apart. And as for keeping it quiet, just honour his request, okay?”
There was a short silence as Jem digested this titbit of news, giving her the briefest of nods. “I was right then.” He eventually spoke.
“Right about what?”
‘Him being married. They’re all the same, these big-shot surgeons. He’s been here…what, less than a year, and all the single female staff are dying to get their hands on him and about half the married ones too. I wonder what attracts them. He’s certainly not my type.”
She gave a laugh. “Jem, he’s a nice man. Underneath his obvious good connections and money, he wants a normal life just like you and me.”
Jem gave her a hurt look as if to say, “Are you being funny?” and turned on the radio. They listened in silence as the newscaster finished his report and changed topics to the weather.
“Well, that sounds a bit more hopeful. ‘Becoming sunny and drier before mid-morning, with fresh south-westerly winds up to 20 knots’. We should have a cracking sail once we get out south of the island.” He rubbed his hands with glee. “Can’t wait.”
Libby returned his smile, glad to be off the topic of Nigel. She knew Jem would try keeping her secret safe, but at the same time, she realised he was only human and could easily forget. Juicy gossip sped like wildfire around the hospital, and she didn’t want to be the subject.
He was right though. Nigel was everything he had said and more. Libby knew about his marriage to Stella. He had been quite open during their second date together, telling her they had married when they were still at medical school and how they had been far too young.
~~~~~
“We should have listened to our parents,” he had said. “They urged us to wait until we’d qualified, but like most students we knew best. After we left med school and channelled our time and attention into our chosen career paths, we found we had no time left for each other. Of course, we still had the common ground of medicine to share, but apart from that, there was nothing else. We’d grown up and grown apart from each other. I’m surprised we stayed together as long as we did. It was most probably a mix of things: money, not upsetting our families, apathy, and I suppose convenience. It is often easier to do nothing. We’re still on remarkably good terms and see each other whenever she comes over from the States.”
Libby nodded, playing with the stem of her wine glass as he explained. If anything, she was a bit surprised at his openness.
“Were there…did you have any children together?”
“Thankfully, no. Children would have made everything much more complicated. Stella wasn’t keen once we’d passed our final exams. She was eager to make her name as a psychiatrist, and she’s doing just that in New York and London. Children were way down the list,” he said, giving her a grin which made him look younger, boyish even. “No ties there either.”
Libby smiled. “She’s very clever and a wonderful speaker. I attended a few of her lectures when I was working in London. She certainly knows how to hold an audience, and her voice is captivating with an almost hypnotic effect on the listener.”
Pushing back his shirtsleeve, Nigel glanced at his watch, and Libby caught sight of a tattoo on his wrist. She recognised it as Caduceus, the medical symbol or the Physician's Staff tattoo. Nigel caught her look and smiled. “I know. I abhor tattoos too, but Stella made me have it done while we were still students. It was bloody painful too. Do you know the Caduceus derives from the Greek 'karykeion', meaning 'staff of the herald’? It was the symbol of the power to harm or to heal. It appears in images of the ancient Egyptian god of wisdom, Thoth, as a magic rod with twin snakes. I’ve seen other variations showing a staff entwined with twin serpents, topped with a pair of wings or a winged sun and no snakes. Originally, those twin snakes may have been ribbons attached to the wings, eventually evolving into serpents. Interesting, eh?”
“I know what it represents, but not the full explanation.”
“Have you finished? Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?”
Libby weighed the pros and cons of spending more time in his company. It was a tempting thought to go and see where he lived and how he spent his free time. It was only their second date, and she did have to work tomorrow. Spending time back at his place could well lead to things being misunderstood or getting out of control, and that was the last thing she wanted. She considered herself fairly broad-minded. She wasn’t a prude but neither was she ‘easy’.
She shook her head and gave him a smile, replying. “No thanks. Not tonight, if you don’t mind. I have an early start tomorrow. Lisa, Sister Williams, is off, and I’m in charge. We have a full theatre list, so it’s bound to be frantic.”
Nigel gave her a rueful look as he handed the waiter his credit card. “We’ll make it next time then. My apartment has a splendid view of Southampton Water. It looks very romantic lit up at night.”
Nigel drove her home and didn’t put pressure on her to let him in. He escorted her to her door and, after a chaste kiss, asked to see her again over the weekend. He suggested going for a sail on his yacht, just the two of them, and thrilled with the idea of being on a sailing boat once more, Libby happily agreed.
Libby smiled as she remembered that day. There had been little wind for any real sailing, and they ended up anchoring in a tranquil inlet bay, north of the Isle of Wight. It was far too cold for a swim, but they were content to laze around in the sun, sampling a delicious lunch hamper Nigel had picked up from a ship’s caterers before leaving the marina.
It wasn’t before long Libby had nodded off, lying on the thick cockpit cushions. Nigel had roused her and suggested a siesta down below. Feeling lethargic and sleepy after a fine lunch and a bottle and a half of champagne, Libby nearly agreed. The main cabin on the Swan was huge, and Libby had done a double take when she had first seen the size of the wide bed. Nigel was considerate and tender, but something made Libby waver. She asked herself, why not? It had been a long time since she had had a proper sexual relationship, and Jem was always telling her she was too picky, too choosy. ‘It’s about time you lived a little,’ Jem had said on more than one occasion. “And I know you won’t thank me for this, but it’s also time you got over your last disastrous affair.”
Libby knew Jem was right, but still she hesitated and put Nigel off with a laugh and a joke. She wanted to be quite sure this time. She had come out of a relationship feeling bruised and hurt far too many times. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex – she did, but all too often, she had gone out with men who wanted sex on their first date, and it was becoming tiresome. Libby did have some moral standards.
Libby’s introduction to Nigel’s yacht had taken place a month ago, and now they were seeing each other on a regular basis a couple of times a week. As far as Nigel was concerned – and he had told her on several occasions – he was serious. Libby kept quiet, feeling there was no rush. She wanted to be sure.
They were discreet in their dating – at Nigel’s insistence, as he loathed hospital gossip of any kind – and Libby agreed to go along with his wishes. A secret liaison held a certain sparkle, and Libby found herself caught up in the excitement of it all. They would make their relationship known when they were both ready.
~~~~~
That morning, when they arrived at the marina on the River Hamble, everything was hustle and bustle. Up and down the pontoons, scores of boat crews were checking sails, removing surplus weighty items and generally enjoying the mounting excitement before a big race. The rain had eased off, and a thin, watery sun was peeking between the thinning early-morning clouds.
Libby and Jem picked up their kit bags and made their way down to Tourbillon’s berth. The Swan 60 was a new design, sixty feet long with a large and well-protected cockpit. Her sea trials had shown superb race performance levels, and she was both comfortable and fast for cruising and offshore racing. Nigel had spared no expense when he purchased this sleek, sexy racing machine.
Tourbillon lay snugly against her fendered berth. Her hull was a gleaming navy blue, polished only days before by the yacht service agents. Her mast stood tall and proud, towering above most of the other craft lying in their own berths. Her halliards were cleated off, and there was only the bare whisper of a ringing as metal struck metal. She looked fantastic, expensive and racy.
As Libby and Jem approached the boat, they espied a tanned Nigel standing on her deck, deep in discussion with another man dressed in white polo shirt and shorts. A blue emblem on his breast pocket portrayed the name of the yacht, and Jem gave Libby a nudge.
“By the look of things, I reckon he’ll be the navigator, don’t you?”
She didn’t have a chance to reply, as Nigel turned towards them at the sound of their footsteps on the wooden pontoon and raised a hand in greeting. When he caught sight of Libby, his smile broadened into one of admiration.
Libby returned his smile, relieved that despite her early start, she had spent some time over her appearance. Nigel was appreciative of her looks, and Libby knew by his high standards, he expected her to look gorgeous at any time, day or night. She sported a new haircut: mid-blonde, short and feathered at the ends. The hairstyle had cost her a lot more than usual, but she knew it suited her elfin face and emphasised her enormous brown eyes. After applying a little discreet lip gloss and a hint of eye shadow, she felt good and knew that Nigel welcomed her effort. He gave her a helping hand as she said with a laugh, “Permission to come aboard, Skip?”
“Libby, you look positively ravishing this morning. I love the new haircut by the way. Morning, Jem. Feeling fit? Hope you’re ready to grind those winches!”
“Thank you. Where shall we stow our stuff?” she asked.
“Anywhere below in one of the forward cabins will do. Grab yourself a coffee while you’re down there, I’m just going through racing tactics with Ian here. Do you know each other?”
Neither Jem nor Libby had seen him before and shook their heads before they said ‘hello’.
Ian was as stocky as Nigel was tall. He had a shock of startling red hair and a mass of freckles covering his pale face. He looked Libby over appreciatively when she turned to leave them and make her way below. He twisted back round to Nigel with a grin. “She’s a bit of a looker, isn’t she?”
~~~~~
Tourbillon slipped her berth in good time before the race start. Once they had cleared the Hamble River, passing the moored boats along the riverside, they headed south-west down Southampton water and into the clearer waters beyond. The Swan had a deep keel, perfect for slicing through the water, but it meant that careful pilotage had to be maintained through the narrow channels of drifting shingle and sandbanks.
That day’s race was the biggest of its kind. Over 16,000 professional and amateur sailors were involved, with 1900 boat entries all vying for glory in their class. The race commenced at Cowes on the Isle of Wight and headed westwards through the challenging Needles channel, south towards St. Catherine's Point, and then back round to the finish line off the Royal Yacht Squadron yacht club in Cowes. The course was 63.3 miles long, and the monohull record stood at 3 hours, 53 minutes and 5 seconds. Nigel’s boat was entered along with 23 other boats of the same class, and he was very keen to do well.
Coffee and sandwiches were distributed among the boat crew as they idled to and fro off the Cowes waterfront. Literally hundreds of other craft had turned up to see the start of the race: family yachts, motor boats, ferries, and even a pleasure steamer or two.
Ten minutes before countdown, Nigel, at the helm, was frantic as he jostled for space between two other yachts in his class. The tension was palpable as the countdown begun. The warning guns were fired – three minutes, one minute…they were off!
The open-flat racing boats and the multi-hulls shot ahead, desperate to find clear water and get out of trouble. Libby heard shouting over on her left as she sat with her legs over the starboard side of the yacht. Turning to see what the noise was about, she was in time to see three boats collide with sickening force. She was horrified to see what looked like a brand spanking new yacht with a hole torn in its left side as another one thrashed around with half of its boom and rigging hanging in the sea. She shuddered, unable to believe what had just happened. That could so easily have been them if Nigel wasn’t such a good helmsman.
Tourbillon tore along on a close-hauled starboard tack. Her sails filled, and she heeled over in the fresh wind, gaining speed as the crew settled down.
~~~~~
The race was on. Tourbillon had found a nice open stretch of water with Nigel’s friend and rival, Sebastian, about a quarter of a mile ahead off to their port side. They had rounded the north-west corner of the island without mishap, and the Needles were just ahead. Libby knew all about the Needles: a row of three distinctive stacks of chalk rising out of the sea. There was a buoy that marked ‘safe’ water, and Libby knew they had to keep this to port unless they wanted to run aground on the treacherous shingle bank. Many a ship had come to grief there.
Sebastian’s own Swan, ‘Four Fine Winds’ was maintaining her speed and as Nigel urged his crew to tweak the sails, Libby felt the boat’s speed go up a notch as Tourbillon settled into her racing groove. Light spray caught Libby in the face, and she laughed in delight as the excitement of the race took hold of her. The yacht came off a wave and surged through the surf.
Four Fine Winds would surely reach the Needles buoy and round it before Tourbillon, but Nigel was winding the boat up and putting on the pressure. Hearing Libby’s laugh, Nigel gave her a roguish grin and beckoned her over to stand near him.
“Morning, sweetie. Sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you yet. How are you doing?” he said, giving her a quick hug with one arm and snatching a surreptitious kiss.
“I’m fine, thanks. This is such fun and so exciting, I can’t remember the last time I was part of a race,” she said with a laugh. “I’m pleased to be here.”
“I’m glad I suggested it. Listen, we’ll make tonight special. I’ve got a huge surprise for you. Now, if only we can beat that bastard to the mark. Can you see him ahead? Where is he exactly?”
Libby moved over to the port side of the yacht to take a peek under the headsail. She knew there were only 100 metres to go before the buoy. Before she could get into position, there was a faint shout coming from their left. Libby heard the indistinct voice across the sea, and suddenly, she realised that someone was yelling, “Water! Water!” The other yacht wanted Tourbillon to give way to them.
Four Fine Winds was bearing down on them at an alarming rate. In panic, Libby stood back up to attract Nigel’s attention and warn him of the sudden danger. His face was a picture of concentration and determination as he bawled at his crew, “Make ready the chute!” Three hefty crew were dragging the lightweight spinnaker along the deck, getting ready to hoist the sail as soon as they turned the corner. Libby scrambled to the other side of the deck as the wind freshened, and the boat heeled further over, the crew along the side sitting high above the water. She crabbed back to her original position practically on all fours while screaming a warning to Nigel as the shout came again.
This time there was no mistake. “Water!” and Nigel heard the terror in the voice. With a horrified look, he spun the wheel and the massive boom shot over to the other side of the boat.
There was a sickening crunch of metal upon flesh and the boat slewed over. Nigel was bellowing for assistance, the sails were flogging, and Libby was thrown into the water.
“Man overboard!” shouted Jem, rushing to the side and pointing at his stricken friend. Without waiting for an order, he grabbed a lifebuoy and jumped overboard to help her.
~~~~~
Nigel gave the command to slow the boat right down and turn into the wind. The crew released the sheets (ropes) allowing some wind to escape from the sails. A small group gathered on the side of the yacht, looking anxiously down into the turbulent sea, pointing to an unconscious Libby, supported by her lifejacket which had self-inflated. They could see Jem’s head and shoulders with the lifebuoy as he battled the short distance against the waves to where she lay, not moving.
As he reached her, a jubilant cry went up, and they shouted encouragement as Jem got the lifebuoy under her arms and manhandled her back towards where Tourbillon wallowed in the peaks and troughs of the swell, barely making way.
Four Fair Winds was off to one side and Nigel and Sebastian were having a shouting match. While they were arguing about whose fault the near collision had been, Jem had managed to bring an unconscious Libby alongside, and with help from the other crew, they dragged her on board using a ‘man overboard’ sling.
Nigel was still at the helm, patently not trusting any of the crew to take over. He had his work cut out to avoid another collision as other yachts streamed past them. Ian came up from below and took in the scene.
“I’ve radioed a medical pan-pan,’ he said, looking grimly at Libby where she lay on the deck, water streaming from her. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Good, then we can get underway. Come and take the wheel will you? And for God’s sake, watch out. We don’t want another mishap. ”
Nigel handed the helm over to Ian and climbed out of the cockpit to take a look at Libby. She had a large gash down the right side of her head and was bleeding, her blood mingling with the seawater onto the teak deck.
“Hand me the first aid box. Now let’s get her fixed up and ready for the helicopter. It’ll be arriving any minute now. Once she’s airborne, we can continue with the race. We’re nicely ahead of the pack, and I believe we can still pull this off. It was that bugger Sebastian’s fault colliding with us, and I’m going to make sure the race marshals know that. Jem, get changed out of those wet clothes. I want you back on the winch as soon as possible!”
Chapter 2
Shocked, Jem looked at Nigel, scarcely believing his ears. What was it he had just said? Irrespective of whose fault it was, Nigel had an unconscious woman, a crew member, lying on his boat. At the very least, he was responsible for the well-being of his crew. Here he was, still anxious to get back into the race. What an unfeeling bastard!
Jem opened his mouth to protest as the first sounds of the helicopter filled the air. He gave a withering look at the top of Nigel’s head as he stood up and contemplated what to do.
He was furious with Nigel over his cavalier attitude. “Are you escorting her back to land?” he asked.
Nigel glanced up, a surprised look on his face. “Who me?”
“Yes, you. As the skipper responsible for our well-being and—” He stopped, knowing full well Libby would be upset if she knew he had mentioned her and Nigel’s relationship.
“I may be responsible for my crew, but it wasn’t my fault. No, I won’t be escorting her. The pilot and winch man will have their work cut out without having to worry about another passenger.”
“Passenger? She’s your bloody girlfriend, isn’t she?” Jem growled at him.
Nigel took a quick look round, as if making sure no one else had heard him. The deafening sound from the helicopter drowned out their conversation. “Just keep your thoughts to yourself, matey. Our relationship is purely platonic, and our business is no one else’s.”
“But surely, you’ll want to—”
Nigel stood up as Ian shouted, “The helicopter pilot is on the radio, Skip. They want to talk to you.” He tossed a handheld VHF radio over to Nigel once he had re-entered the cockpit and taken back the helm. Ian moved over to Jem, who had remained by Libby’s prone body. “How’s she doing?”
“Not so good. She’s still unconscious and bleeding quite a lot from her wound. It’s a horrible gash, and so far, I can’t get it to stop bleeding. She might be left with a scar. Pass me another pack of swabs will you?” Feverishly, he tore apart the wrapping and applied a fresh gauze pad to Libby’s wound.
‘Shame, such a good-looking girl, too. But you never know, they can do wonders these days.”
Jem did know because he worked in Accident and Emergency at Southampton General. He was sure, once she received full medical treatment in hospital, her bleeding would cease. At the moment, he was more worried about her mental state. Libby had suffered a considerable blow to her head from the boom as it swung from one side of the boat to the other in the forced gybe. If only that idiot Nigel had been paying more attention. All this could have been avoided. Jem couldn’t really understand Nigel’s apparent lack of concern. He was after all a man of medicine, a healer, and yet, the race appeared to be uppermost in his mind. Withholding a snort of disgust, Jem decided it took all sorts to make a world. He only hoped Libby knew what she was doing this time. Since he had known her, she had suffered at least two disastrous relationships, and after the last one, her confidence had suffered.
“Right, clear the deck you lot. The winch man is going to pass down a stretcher before the diver comes down. On no account is anyone to touch the hi-line transfer cable until it touches the deck. Do you understand? There can be a hell of a lot of static electricity, and it could kill you. Once it’s firmly on the deck, do not tie it on to anything, either. I’m sure you know the drill.” Nigel bellowed. “Once she’s aboard, we’ll get going again.”
There was a series of surprised mutterings at this, and Jem was gratified to see quite a few of the crew looked askance at their skipper. Privately, he considered Nigel to be an unfeeling bastard.
“Come on, look lively. Get the sails ready! We’ve got a race. We’re not finished yet. We can still do this.”
Jem could have hit him.
Chapter 3
Libby felt strange. She was nursing an almighty headache and there was a loud ringing in her ears. Never had she felt so incapacitated. She knew that if she sat up she would be violently sick. Her whole body felt as if it was vibrating, and there was a deafening rumble around her. She gave a groan and closed her eyes.
“Take it easy love. Just lie still.” A dismembered voice muttered in her ear, and opening her eyes, a face swam into her vision. It was slightly skew-whiff and blurred, but squinting, she could definitely see a face.
“Can you hear me?” he asked, bending down towards her ear. She nodded and wished she hadn’t, as everything went black, and a whooshing noise replaced the drone. “You’ve had an accident. Do you remember?”
She struggled to frame the word 'no'.
“Don’t try to move or talk until I’ve done some obs. You’ve got a nasty wound on your forehead, which I’m going to dress. This might hurt a bit. It’s only a medicated swab, nothing more.”
Libby winced as she felt a cold, wet compress upon her face. The astringent antiseptic bit into her raw lesion. “Ow!” she moaned, opening her eyes wide with surprise.
“There. Nearly all done. What’s your name? Can you tell me?”
Libby thought. Nothing. The more she thought, the more she panicked. What was her name? She gave a slight shake of her head and realised tears were welling up. What had happened? Why was she so wet?
“I can’t remember,” she whispered. “What happened? Why am I so wet and—” She struggled to sit up. “Where am I?”
The uniformed man placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. “I’m Jack, by the way. You’ve been in a sailing accident. Do you remember that?”
“No!” Waves of nausea rushed over her. She lay back, beginning to shake with shock.
“Okay, just take it easy. I’ll explain. You were taking part in a sailing race. I believe there was a collision between the yacht you were on and another. During the collision you went overboard. That’s why you are so wet. You’re now on the Solent Rescue helicopter, India Juliet, and we’re flying you to Southampton hospital.”
For some reason, the hospital meant something to Libby, but she couldn’t remember what. She struggled with the grey woolliness in her brain. “Why can’t I remember?”
“By the look of your injury, I would say you hit your head before you went overboard. It’s probably only temporary, and things will begin to come back after you’ve rested. You’ve got quite a bump there. I can tell you that your name is Libby. Your boat skipper gave that to us.”
Libby? Libby? Still nothing. She lay still as misery flooded through her. What on earth was going to happen to her?
“We’ll be there in a short while. Now, if I can just take your blood pressure.”
Libby felt a cuff tighten around her arm. She strained to look around her without moving her position, and as her vision cleared, realised she could see the pilot. She could hear him as he talked into his helmet mike. At that moment, he glanced in the rear mirror in front of him and met her eyes. Despite herself, Libby felt a frisson of interest. She saw nice eyes, a deep green and unusual shade of hazel, green and blue with brown flecks. As she watched him, he swivelled round in his seat with a shaken look. After a moment, his face cleared and he gave her a smile. There was something about that smile that made her feel secure. Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily, and everything was going to be all right.
The pilot turned back to his controls, and Jack said they were about to land. The new helipad at the hospital was in sight.
~~~~~
Libby was dozing when she realised there was someone in the room with her. As she opened her eyes, she noticed the soft evening sunshine throwing shadows on the walls, and with a start, she turned to find the chair next to her bed occupied. He was dark-haired with conventional good looks, a tanned face, blue eyes, and a long aquiline nose. He was dressed in sailing clothes: a polo shirt, trousers and deck-shoes.
“Libby, darling. I’m sorry if I woke you, but the staff said you were awake. I’ve only just managed to get here to see you. The traffic from the Hamble was horrendous.”
Libby stared blankly at the face before her. She had no idea who he was.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “But…who are you?” Her voice wavered.
“Darling, don’t you remember? It’s me, Nigel.”
She hesitated, then, “No. I don’t know you. I can’t even remember who I am.” To her horror, tears were gathering and threatening to roll down her face. “How did you manage to get in? I told the staff I didn’t want visitors!”
“Darling, hush. It’s all right. Why wouldn’t they let me in, they could hardly refuse could they? I am one of the senior medical staff here. Of course, they don’t know about our personal relationship.”
“Relationship?” Libby frowned.
“Yes. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten we’re engaged?”
Engaged? Horrified, Libby struggled to clear her head. Apparently she was engaged to this man, this stranger, Nigel. She lifted her left hand but her ring finger was bare.
Nigel saw her puzzled look and curled his fingers round her own. “Your ring is at the jewellers, darling. Don’t you remember? Since you lost all that weight, your fingers are much more slender. Your ring kept slipping off, and you were afraid of losing it. It’ll be ready for you in a day or so.” He kissed the tips of her fingers. “Don’t worry about anything. You just need to get better.”
She choked back a sob. “How can I not worry? I can’t remember anything much before I woke up in the helicopter,” she said snatching her hand from his – it didn’t feel right somehow.
“I’m sure your doctor has explained your amnesia to you. You fell overboard and most probably hit your head on the boat’s hull. I’m sure your memory will recover in a short time.”
“You think so?”
“Of course I do. You have what is known as post-traumatic amnesia. This is a state of confusion that occurs immediately following a violent head injury. You’ll probably feel disoriented and unable to remember events that happened before the injury. Sometimes new events can’t be remembered either, but it’ll resolve itself.”
Libby wished she felt reassured, but Nigel’s words failed to comfort her.
“I think I can remember a few random things. I don’t remember being on a boat. But I do remember driving my car. A Mini, I think it was. Why can I only remember bits and pieces?” she whispered.
“Well, I’m not a neurosurgeon, but I had a word with the doctor on duty before I called in here. He said that about a third of patients with mild head injuries have 'islands of memory' in which the patient can recall only some events. Your consciousness is 'clouded' and you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia.”
“Yes, he explained that to me too. It’s awful only remembering snippets.”
“Can you remember where you live?”
She wrinkled her nose as she concentrated hard. “Do I have a flat? I think I’m getting glimpses of something like that.”
“Yes, you do. But listen, darling, you were about to leave your flat and move in with me. We had it all sorted out. We decided to live together, don’t you remember?”
Libby was shocked and shrank back upon her pillows. “No. I…I don’t.”
“Well, I can’t see that anything’s changed. It will be for the best. I can keep a proper eye on you. Darling Libby, you need someone to cherish you.”
As Nigel said these words, Libby felt as if she was drowning. Panic gripped her, and an icy feeling ran down her back. It just didn’t feel right.
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