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and left the room, leaving Alistair to follow.

      He caught her before she reached the outer doors. She was sagging again, her shoulders slumping a little as she pushed against the glass doors. He caught her and pulled her inside again. What he wanted to say couldn’t be said in the fierce wind.

      ‘How much did you sleep last night?’ he demanded, tugging her back and letting the doors swing closed again.

      ‘Enough.’

      ‘Not enough,’ he growled. ‘You’re grey around the edges.’

      ‘I am not.’

      ‘Not outwardly but inside …’

      ‘Oh, cut it out. You sound like Charles. Trying to make me stay in bed.’

      ‘If Dr Wetherby was saying you need the day in bed, I concur.’

      ‘I can’t,’ she said.

      ‘Why not? Is anyone in labour?’

      ‘No, but—’

      ‘There you go, then. The entire medical staff of Croc Creek is stuck indoors, waiting for this weather to clear. Plus there are at least half a dozen spare doctors here for the wedding. Before Megan’s drama Gina was so bored she resorted to putting ribbons around chicken bones.’

      Georgie smiled at that. Albeit weakly. ‘I should help her. And the wedding’s at four.’

      ‘No,’ he said, gently but firmly. ‘You need to sleep. No one’s going to be upset if you miss the wedding.’

      ‘I need to phone—’

      ‘Who do you need to phone?’

      ‘Anyone who might know where Max is.’

      ‘Do you have a list?’

      ‘I … Yes.’ She gave a shamefaced smile. ‘I sort of … found it last time Ron was here. When I knew he was taking Max away. He stayed overnight at the pub. I suggested to the publican that he might let me into his bedroom. I borrowed an address book he had.’

      ‘You borrowed …’

      ‘I copied out every phone number,’ she said. ‘Just ‘cos I knew he was taking Max and I thought …’

      ‘It was a great idea. You’ve been ringing the numbers?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘So how far through the list are you?’

      ‘About a third.’

      ‘No response?’

      ‘No.’ She bit her lip. ‘Some of them recognise me. They know my stepfather hates me.’

      ‘So I might get further?’ he said thoughtfully.

      ‘But you don’t want—’

      ‘I do want. I can contact people and say I’m a doctor who’s deeply concerned about Max’s welfare. I can say there are medical imperatives that make contacting him urgent.’

      ‘Medical imperatives …’

      ‘It’ll make you sleep at night,’ he said. ‘Definitely medical imperatives.’

      She choked, half with laughter, half with tears. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and met his gaze head on. And came to a decision.

      ‘It might work,’ she said.

      ‘I might get a better reception. A doctor saying there’s an urgent medical need to contact a kid is bound to get a better reception than you looking for your father for a reason they don’t know.’

      ‘I … You’re sure you don’t mind?’

      ‘I’ll come and get the list. I’m not invited to this wedding. The weather’s keeping me indoors. I have all the time in the world.’

      They walked back slowly to the doctors’ quarters. The wind was still howling. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Alistair’s arm to come around her waist and support her against its force.

      They walked back inside the house—and stopped dead.

      The house had been taken over by chaos.

      There were bridesmaids everywhere—four or five at least—and a couple of flowergirls for good measure. There were three little boys in pale pink trousers and white shirts. There were women—lots of women. In the middle enveloped in white tulle was …

      ‘Emily,’ Georgie said, awed. ‘Look at you.’

      ‘I look like a toilet brush,’ Emily wailed.

      ‘Toilet brush?’

      ‘Have you seen the toilet brushes Mrs Poulos uses? They’re all white tulle. Just like me. Why did I agree to a Greek wedding?’

      ‘‘Cos you fell in love with a Greek?’ Georgie suggested, and grinned. Then her smile faded. ‘Em, would you mind very much if I missed a bit of your wedding?’

      ‘Not at all,’ Emily said promptly. ‘I’m with you. Shall we do a Thelma and Louise—fast car to Texas?’

      ‘Not with Mike chasing us,’ Georgie said. ‘He’d catch us before the edge of town. You’re committed now, girl. You need to face the music.’

      ‘But your face is hurting,’ Emily said, her expression softening as she took in the strain in her friend’s eyes. ‘And you’re terrified about Max. Harry told us how worried you are.’ She looked thoughtfully at Alistair. ‘But you have Alistair to look after you.’

      ‘I don’t need looking after.’

      ‘Hey, she does,’ Emily said, pushing through assorted bridesmaids and flower girls to hug Georgie with affection. ‘She’s prickly as a hedgehog on the outside but inside she’s just marshmallow,’ she told Alistair. ‘Georgie, go to bed. That’s where you should be.’

      ‘I need to make phone calls.’

      ‘No, I’m making phone calls,’ Alistair reminded her, ‘while you rest.’

      ‘That sounds like a great idea,’ Emily said, but then she was distracted. A middle-aged lady in flowery Crimplene was hovering in the background with what looked like a crimping wand. The woman was practically vibrating with anxiety. ‘No, Sophia, I don’t want any more curls. I look like Shirley Temple as it is.’

      ‘Hey, you need to get on with Operation Wedding,’ Georgie said, and kissed her friend and pushed her away. ‘I’ll pop into church and see you tie the actual knot. But I might give the reception a miss.’

      ‘If you decide you can make it, Alistair can bring you.’ Emily looked ruefully around at the chaos. ‘With this mob no one will notice an extra. Or a hundred extras.’

      ‘I think we both might give it a miss,’ Alistair said faintly, taking charge, putting his arm around Georgie and steering her through the sea of bridesmaids as he’d steered her into the blasting wind. ‘Georgie’s beat.’

      ‘But we’ll be there in spirit,’ Georgie called over her shoulder. ‘Make sure you save me an almond basket with wishbone.’

      ‘They’re for fertility,’ Emily said, as the crimping machine descended. ‘You sure you want one?’

      ‘We’ve changed our minds,’ Alistair and Georgie said in unison. ‘No fertility baskets.’

       CHAPTER FIVE

      ALISTAIR insisted that Georgie go to bed, but she refused. She wanted to listen to his phone calls. They compromised by using the hands-free phone, with him sitting in her bedside chair, gradually working his way through her list of names. The sounds of the impending

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