Chapter Six
Sandra should have known her relationship with George was too good to be true. For the last few weeks she'd enjoyed being half of a couple, laughing, confiding in him, and sharing things she would normally do alone. Even the simplest tasks were more fun when done with George.
She'd made the mistake of starting to depend on him. Yet she'd always known he would be posted overseas and go away, so she couldn't complain.
It was her fault she'd let herself get in too deep.
She quashed her morose thoughts and concentrated on the patient notes she was supposed to be reading. She hated how her personal issues were starting to intrude on her work. It was unprofessional.
Directing her attention to the young mother sitting in front of her, she smiled to reassure the woman. "You have hypothyroidism. This means your thyroid gland is not producing enough thyroxine. That's why you're feeling so tired. The good news is that the treatment is simple. We'll prescribe tablets to replace the thyroxine your body isn't producing."
The woman let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Doctor. I've been so worn out and run-down, my husband had to take time off work to look after our baby."
"It'll take a few months to get the dosage right, but you should start to feel better straight away."
"Why did my thyroid gland go wrong?"
Sandra reexamined the blood test results that gave the level of thyroid-stimulating hormone present in the patient's blood. The levels were very high, indicating she was producing hardly any thyroxine at all. "It's difficult to be sure, but I suspect a virus attacked your thyroid gland."
"I didn't know viruses could do that."
"Every organ in the body is susceptible to virus attack."
"Even the heart?" The woman pressed a hand to her chest.
"That's unusual, but it does happen on rare occasions. Don't worry, though. The virus that affected your thyroid gland won't attack your heart." Sandra stood and ushered the woman towards the door. "Make an appointment with your GP for a follow-up appointment next week."
As she closed the door behind the last patient of her morning clinic, she laid a hand over her own aching heart. The most deadly virus of all was love. It attacked the heart and the mind.
She slumped down in her chair and stared at the desk clock. In two minutes she was due to meet George in the cafeteria for lunch. Normally she looked forward to this precious time with him. She'd been eager to take him home to meet her parents as well. He was supposed to stay with them over Christmas.
But what was the point if immediately after Christmas he was going to Norway?
In the four days since she found out, a sense of gloom had closed around her. She was used to being alone and normally content with her own company, but he'd taken over her heart and soul. She was going to miss him so much that even the thought of being without him brought tears to her eyes—and he hadn't even left yet.
The second hand clicked relentlessly around the clock face, the minutes slipping away. George would be waiting at their usual table, his newspaper spread in front of him. Yet she didn't move to join him. Instead, a cold certainty settled inside her.
They'd only had a few weeks together. Their fledgling relationship wasn't strong enough to survive three months apart. George's world was about to change and become far more exciting. He'd be too busy to think of her. Even if he did come back to her after Norway, how long would they have together before he was sent to some other far-flung part of the world?
What was the point of a relationship if they rarely saw each other? And this wasn't just for a year or even two. This was for the rest of his working life. At the whim of the army, George could be sent anywhere in the world. It was only a matter of time before they sent him to a war zone.
The thought of him wounded on a stretcher with guns banging all around terrified her. She plucked a tissue from the box on her table and dabbed at her eyes. Endless years of loneliness and worry stretched ahead of her. She couldn't do this.
It was better to suffer the pain of losing him once, now, before she got in even deeper.
The clock kept up its relentless ticking. She was twenty minutes late to meet him now. He would know she wasn't coming.
A brisk knock on the door made her jump and jerked her out of her melancholy thoughts. She hastily dried her eyes before answering. "Come in."
The door opened and George appeared, his white coat unbuttoned to reveal the green army trousers and sweater she'd started to resent.
"What happened? Are you all right?" He paused just inside the room, frowning.
"I've been thinking about you going away and the future." Sandra fisted the tissue, gathering her strength. "I don't think I can cope with this type of relationship. I'm sorry."
The color drained from his cheeks and he became very still, staring at her until she had to avert her eyes.
"You're breaking up with me?"
"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes, barely able to wrap her mind around the idea. Pain swelled in her chest and she struggled to draw breath. Tears ran down her cheeks. She loved him so much that she had to do this. It was a matter of self-preservation. "I can't face the heartache of you being away."
"It's only for three months." His voice was hollow with shock and disbelief. "Sandra, love, the time will pass before you know it." He dropped down on the other chair, grabbed her, and pulled her onto his lap. His arms closed around her as he gathered her close. Beneath the ribbed woolen army sweater, his heart beat unevenly against her palm.
"Don't do this, Sandra." His lips pressed kisses to her face and neck. "I don't want to lose you."
"How do you know you'll still want me in three months, anyway?"
"I love you." He lifted her chin and kissed her lips. The long, slow kiss filled her with a sensual heat that burned away the pain.
"You do?" George was kind and affectionate, but he'd never said he loved her before. She'd thought she was the one who cared most in this relationship.
"Of course."
"I didn't realize."
"Isn't it obvious? I adore you, darling."
He kissed her again as if to reinforce his declaration.
He loved her! He would come home to her. Sandra curled against him and pressed her face into his neck, breathing in the spicy smell of him, relishing the slight roughness of his jaw and the strong grip of his hands.
She buzzed with relief and pleasure, but as she relaxed and enjoyed his kisses, a tiny niggle of worry returned.
"I know the trip to Norway is only three months, but that's just the start. You'll be sent away again, won't you?"
"There are home postings as well. That's what I've been doing here in London the last three months. And soldiers take their wives on some of the overseas stints." He stroked back the loose hair that had come free from her pins during their kisses. "If we love each other, we'll work it out."
But was love enough?
• • •
"Merry Christmas, Mum. I'll see you in a few days." George hugged his mother and kissed her cheek, then turned and shook his father's hand. "Merry Christmas, sir."
To everyone else, George probably appeared the same as usual. Inside he was anything but normal. A week ago when Sandra suggested they break up, she'd given him the shock of his life. His absolute confidence that he was on the right path had been shaken. If his army career meant losing Sandra, he would have to seriously rethink his priorities.
For the moment, she had accepted things as they were, but he hoped he had a home posting when he returned from Norway. He wanted to spend more time with her and make sure she understood how important she was to him.
His mother threw her arms around Sandra and kissed her on both cheeks. "It was lovely to see you again, dear. Have a wonderful Christmas with your parents."
"Thank you, Mrs. Knight. I love going home, especially at this time of year."
Sandra traveled back to Hampshire to see her parents every couple of weeks, but this would be th
e first time George met them.
"Take my car." His father passed over the keys to his Bentley Continental. "It'll be a lot safer in the bad weather than your little sports car. My Bentley is built like a tank."
George might have refused; he loved driving his Triumph. But he had to think about Sandra's safety. However careful he was, he could not predict what other drivers would do, especially in slippery winter conditions.
"Thanks, Dad." He pocketed the keys and picked up the two suitcases.
Once they were ensconced in the luxurious deep leather seats, they set off, waving good-bye to his parents. The Bentley purred as they headed along the A3 away from London.
Sandra stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. In the past, her silence hadn't worried George. Now every time she was quiet, he wondered what was going through her mind.
"Penny for your thoughts."
"Just looking forward to seeing Mum and Dad." She fell back into her thoughtful silence.
He'd dated many women over the years, but he'd never felt this way before. He wanted to make Sandra happy, wanted her to relax and smile more, but achieving that was not easy.
The diamond bracelet he'd bought her for Christmas cost a small fortune. The jewels sparkled around her slender wrist, and she obviously loved the gift, but she wasn't the type of woman who craved expensive presents.
He didn't know her well enough to understand how to please her, and it worried him that sometimes she still retreated behind the protective wall she built around herself and shut him out. He hoped that sharing her family Christmas in her childhood home would help them grow closer.
The Bentley whizzed along the M3 motorway and he reached across the gearshift console and touched his fingers to the back of her hand.
"Love you," he said.
"Love you, too." She gave him a warm, drowsy smile, and his heart clenched with affection.
"So who's coming to your parents' place for lunch?"
"My aunt and uncle and cousin and his family. Grandma and Granddad will come over in the evening for a cold turkey supper. We can't fit everyone around the dinner table at lunchtime. The house is rather small, I'm afraid. Not like your mum and dad's place."
"I'm sure it's lovely." Sandra obviously loved her childhood home, and he was eager to see where she'd grown up.
An hour later as they drove along the narrow country lanes surrounded by woodland and heath land, snow started to fall. Dense flurries of tiny snowflakes gusted across the road, reducing the visibility.
"You need to turn right in a moment." Sandra leaned forward and peered through the slashing windshield wipers. "There, opposite the red post box."
He swung the Bentley into a narrow lane and the vehicle bumped along. After half a mile, lights shone between the tree trunks. A moment later they came upon a tiny thatched cottage nestled in a clearing in the forest.
"It looks like something out of a fairy tale," he said.
Sandra laughed. "It's called Pine Cone Cottage."
He pulled up beside a Land Rover with the Forestry Commission logo on the side.
Before George had time to get out and play the gentleman, Sandra was already pushing open the car door. She jumped out and dashed towards the cottage. Christmas lights twinkled around the porch, a holly wreath covered in red berries on the front door. A woman who looked like an older version of Sandra stepped out of the house. They threw their arms around each other, then a man joined them and took his turn for a cuddle.
George got out slowly, giving her time to greet her parents before he intruded. A black Labrador waddled up, tail wagging, and George patted him. Then he took the bags from the backseat of the car and wandered up behind Sandra.
"Mum, Dad, this is George, Captain Knight." Sandra put her arm around him and grinned.
"Good to meet you, son." Mr. Fisher held out his hand and George shook it. His skin felt thick like tough, worn leather.
"Sandra mentioned you work in the forest, sir?"
"Call me Dave. We don't stand on ceremony here. Yes, I'm a warden for the Forestry Commission."
George tried to shake Mrs. Fisher's hand, but she pulled him down so she could hug him and kiss his cheek. "It's so nice to meet you, George. Sandra told us all about you the last time she visited. We're delighted you could make it. I hope your parents didn't mind parting with you on Christmas Day."
George loved his parents and he'd always thought his family was close, but his relationship with them was nothing like the one Sandra obviously had with her parents.
"My mother has a full day planned. They like to go out for dinner on Christmas Day." His mother was a social maven, and surrounded herself with friends. Christmases with his parents had never been traditional family affairs. He had a feeling he was about to experience a very different sort of Christmas with the Fishers.