*
Later that night Greg was let off the fortnightly ritual of naming every England football player pinned up on Joe’s bedroom wall. In the small modern two-bedroom semi he rented, having not given much thought to a permanent place to live since the divorce settlement, Greg had let Joe decorate the spare bedroom how he liked. Posters of various football teams covered the cream-painted wall as Joe hadn’t yet chosen a club to support. But tonight the footballers were of little interest to him. He had more exciting heroes occupying his mind.
‘Wasn’t it just the best day, Daddy?’ he said for about the hundredth time. He’d been truly inspired by the day’s event and had talked helicopters non-stop since. The cap and badge Seb had given him were on the bedside drawers, as close to him as possible.
‘It was a brilliant day, Joe. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.’
‘With Alex and Seb?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Is she his girlfriend?’
‘I don’t know, Joe. I don’t think so.’ The pilot had sat beside Alex for the flight, and clearly they were good friends, but Greg didn’t pick up on anything more than that. After telling his tale, Seb had spent much of the time speaking through his headset to Joe, pointing out and naming the buildings below. ‘I think she goes out with someone else.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she could go out with you and we could go flying all the time.’
Greg smiled. ‘You’re a ruthless boy, Joe Turner. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.’
When his son was asleep he took a cold bottle of San Miguel, lit a cigarette, and stood by the open patio door to smoke it. He thought about his own star-struck behaviour earlier in the day.
She was incredible and he was a little in awe. She was so capable it was frightening. He wondered how someone so young could have achieved so much. She had handled the helicopter effortlessly, better than he handled a car, and the journey had been smooth all the way. It was a day he would remember for ever, and as Joe rightly said, one of the best.
Alex Taylor just didn’t add up. She had all these incredible gifts and yet, only weeks ago he had heard her tell an unbelievable tale. He had seen her bring a hospital department to a standstill, had heard and sensed the concern over her behaviour from some of her colleagues. He had listened to the catalogue of mental illnesses that Laura Best thought she suffered from. When he had made tea in her kitchen to help bring her out of the shock of Lillian Armstrong’s death he had seen three empty vodka bottles on the draining board, and while searching for sugar in a cupboard he saw a container of diazepam. Both substances told him she was not coping, and yet he allowed her to fly his son in a helicopter. A possible alcoholic and drug abuser? Maybe he was a bit infatuated, he thought wryly. Or perhaps it was because he had seen evidence of a far stronger person. Today she had taken complete charge and he genuinely hoped she wasn’t heading for a major breakdown or suffering some other form of mental illness. He had known other brilliant people to have mental health issues, and it was like watching a rollercoaster ride, only one that got faster and faster until it crashed.
For two pins Greg was tempted to go and see Alex again, when he didn’t have Joe for company, and try to get her to have a proper break. Maybe some time off work was what she needed. A bit of time to rebalance herself.
Spending time with her had made him think about his own life. He could do with a bit of rebalancing himself. It was six months since his divorce, and even longer since he had shared his bed with a woman. He discounted that episode with Laura, because it hadn’t been making love. It was not too soon to start thinking about that side of his life again, and Joe didn’t seem disturbed by the thought of his dad finding a girlfriend. Alex Taylor had a boyfriend so Joe would have to rethink his matchmaking plans. And anyway, it was a bit of a fanciful notion to think she would be interested in him. He was probably far too pedestrian for the likes of her. Instead of thinking about his love life, maybe he should get a hobby. Maybe he could learn to fly a helicopter .?.?.
Chapter thirty-one
She should have rung and told him she was coming over to pick up her stuff instead of sneaking in the back way like this. They had broken up, not become arch enemies, and they were adults, not teenagers, and Patrick would probably view this behaviour as very childish. But she simply didn’t want to have to face him right now. She didn’t want to hear him say one more time that he was there for her. If she hadn’t needed her laptop she wouldn’t have come at all, but she had a PowerPoint presentation to give to a new batch of house officers and needed the darn thing.
The rain was falling hard, and dripping from her hair into her eyes and beginning to irritate her. She should have turned back and gone in through the front door to his surgery, from where he could have let her into the main part of the house. It would only have meant a minute in his company; he would be too busy to talk, then she could have collected her things and left quickly.
Taking cautious steps up the muddy lane she made it to the gate without falling over. She walked through the garden and passed the kennels where Patrick boarded cats and dogs for extra income. Wendy, his young trainee veterinary nurse, was coming out of the outhouse carrying a metal bucket and bulky sack of dog food.
‘Do you want a hand?’ Alex asked her.
Wendy shook her head. ‘No, you’re all right. I can manage.’
She was a strong-looking young woman with muscular thighs and shoulders. With her ruddy cheeks and green wellies she looked like a farm hand. She gave Alex a polite smile and disappeared into the shed beside the kennels.
Alex opened the back door and could see Patrick’s shape through the frosted window of the surgery. A dog was yapping and Patrick was speaking loudly over the noise to the owner.
She let herself into a small windowless room, originally the outhouse before the extension for the surgery was built. The floor was concrete and the walls were painted white. It housed a small shower room, a place to hang coats and bags, and a large grey lockable drug cabinet. At the end of the day this was where Patrick shrugged off his white coat and work clothes and washed away the smell of animals.