‘Blame Charlie for what? Thanks, mate,’ Charlie said to his male nurse as he was pushed into the guest suite. ‘Harriet! I can’t believe we’re both in wheelchairs!’
‘Charlie!’ Harriet had to laugh because, from the neck up, it was the same old Charlie and his infectious smile and mischievous expression hadn’t changed. Otherwise, he had his right arm in a cast and a sling and his left leg stretched out in a cast.
‘Oh, Charlie!’ She hoisted herself out of her wheelchair and hopped across to him on one foot to kiss him warmly. ‘I’m so glad to see you, even if you did render us thoughtless! Oh, nothing,’ she said to Charlie’s puzzled look. ‘Nothing!’
* * *
They had dinner together that night.
The new cook produced barbecued swordfish on skewers with a salad, followed by a brandy pudding.
‘Mmm,’ Charlie said, ‘if he doesn’t burn down the kitchen, he may be as good as old cookie.’
‘She,’ Isabel contributed. ‘I decided there’d be less chance of that with a woman.’
I can’t believe I’m doing this, Harriet thought. I can’t believe I’m sitting here like one of the family after actually driving away from Heathcote and planning to stay away for ever. I can’t believe Damien is doing the same!
She glanced across at him but found his expression difficult to read, except to think that he looked withdrawn.
* * *
After dinner, however, everyone seemed to go their separate ways.
Charlie’s nurse insisted he go to bed. Isabel went out to a meeting after wheeling Harriet into the guest suite and Damien went up to his study.
Harriet sat for several minutes in the wheelchair then decided she was exhausted. She used the crutches Damien had hired to get herself changed and finally into bed.
She was sitting up in bed arranging a pillow under her foot when she remembered she hadn’t locked the door and she was just about to remedy this when the outer door clicked opened and Damien walked in.
Harriet went to say something but her voice refused to work and she had to clear her throat.
He must have heard because, with a light tap on the open door, he came through to the bedroom.
‘OK?’ He stood at the end of the bed and studied her in her ruffled grey nightgown.
Harriet nodded. ‘Fine, thanks. Have you come to...?’ Her eyes were wide and questioning.
‘I haven’t come to take up residence,’ he said rather dryly. ‘I’ve come to talk.’
‘Oh.’
His lips twisted. ‘What would you have said if I’d indicated otherwise?’
Harriet swallowed. ‘I’m not sure.’
He studied her comprehensively then turned away and pulled a chair up. ‘If you’re worried about staying on to do the paintings, can I make a couple of points?’ He didn’t wait for her approval. ‘You really seem to enjoy this place, you love art and I guess—’ he grimaced ‘—it’s not a bad place to convalesce.’ He paused and listened for a moment, then grinned and got up to let Tottie in.