Czytaj książkę: «The Doctor's Cinderella»

CHAPTER ONE

MOLLY MURPHY WAS sad and irritated in equal amounts and she was barely awake. Clanging sounds followed by thuds in the street outside had woken her from a deep and much-needed sleep. Soft frown lines formed on her forehead as she rolled over and pulled the pillow around her ears but the harsh sounds continued. She gave up trying to block them out. The pillow was far too thin and no match for the noise.

It was officially the first day of winter in Australia and unrelenting rain had been teeming down for five days straight. Molly could hear that hadn’t abated overnight. The tin roof was still being hammered by the downpour but the other sounds were even louder. She rubbed her eyes, then closed them again as she contemplated whether she should get up. Her alarm hadn’t sounded so she decided to stay put.

Pleasant dreams were hard to come by for Molly and she wasn’t happy that one had been cut short as it had been far better than her reality of late. As she lay in the cosiness of her bed, her immediate recollection was a little scattered but it had included a sun-drenched, sandy beach, a cocktail with a tiny paper umbrella...and no overdue bills on the kitchen counter.

Suddenly her musing stopped as she peeked through her heavy eyelids in the direction of the window. Winter sunlight was streaming in through kinks in the ageing venetian blinds. The intensity of the light saw irritation turn to panic. Even half-asleep Molly knew her room should not have been that brightly lit at six-thirty. It was the first of June. It was officially winter and it should have been dark outside. Feeling her heart begin to pick up speed, she anxiously reached over for her mobile phone on the nightstand. The screen was black. The phone was flat. The alarm was never going to sound. She tried to focus on the clock hanging in the hallway opposite her door. It was almost eight o’clock. She had overslept by an hour and a half.

‘Oh, God...no, no, no, not today...’

Her reality was now even further from dreams of a cocktail on a beach.

Molly sat bolt upright in her bed. Only to collapse back down again in pain. Her head had collided with the ridiculously placed wooden bookcase that jutted out from the vinyl-covered bedhead. Hideous decorating from the sixties had sent her crashing back onto her pillow. Her knees instinctively lifted up to her chin and she rocked as her fingers gently rubbed the smarting skin underneath her mop of messy curls. Through tired and now-watering eyes, she looked upwards at the heavy wooden structure inconveniently protruding only twelve inches over the top of her bed.

‘Damn you,’ she spat as a few tears began spilling from her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. Molly surmised her crying was partly from the shock of hitting something so hard, partly from the pain that followed and maybe more than a little from what had led her to be sleeping in a bed with such a goddamn ugly bedhead.

Love. Naive, stupid love.

Molly had lost almost everything because of it.

And she still blamed herself.

But the new, resilient, heart-of-stone Molly Murphy would never fall in love again. Not ever. It hurt too much.

Taking a deep breath and wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, she attempted to calm herself. She didn’t have time for self-pity, not even a few minutes of it. She had to put on her big-girl panties and get going because she was running late. Very late. And since she had been sleeping in the same bed for close to a year with the horrific bookcase bedhead hovering over her, she had no choice but to assume at least part of the responsibility. Each time she had knocked her head on the oak eyesore, and there had been numerous times, she had vowed not to do it again. But then, half-asleep, she would go and do it again. If the house were hers, she would have ripped the monstrosity of a bedhead from the wall. But as a tenant she had no choice but to be the victim of it. And that unfortunately happened with annoying and painful regularity.

Insomnia had been her only bedtime companion since her fiancé had disappeared into the night without warning. He had just scribbled a five-line note that, after stripping away the narcissistic wordsmithing, had explained nothing. It had also provided Molly with no inkling of the mess that she would be left to face alone, including the last-minute cancellation of their winter wedding.

Since that dreadful day she had been tossing and turning alone in her bed, so the evening before the anniversary of the day on which she should have been walking down the aisle, she had gone to her room early. Trying desperately not to throw herself a full-blown pity party, she had listened to her female empowerment playlist on her mobile phone. Hours of the edgy, no-holds-barred lyrics had finally allowed her to fall asleep under the security of the heavy woollen blankets. And had also allowed her phone battery to go flat. If it hadn’t been for the relentless clanging of each bin being emptied into the truck then dropped back to the kerb in her narrow rain-soaked street, she might well have slept until midday. The sound of the trains shuttling past so close to her tiny home that her windows rattled had become white noise over the months and something she could easily sleep through. And she now knew the rain pelting down had joined the same category.

The sharp pain on the crown of her head quickly replaced the threat of melancholy thoughts as she climbed hurriedly but still a little gun-shy from underneath the weight of her warm covers. Still mumbling to herself, Molly switched to fight-or-flight mode as her feet touched the chilly floorboards of her bedroom. The tiny home was close to ninety years old and there were little gaps between the aged planks that allowed a draft into her room anywhere in the house where there wasn’t time-weary linoleum. But that morning Molly barely noticed the icy landing. She was in too much of a rush.

There was no time to wash her hair. In fact, there was barely enough time to run a brush through the short curly brunette bob as she ran into her tiny bathroom, jumped under a two-minute shower and then dressed in the semi-darkness of her room. Molly knew there was a hard rubbish collection as well as the bins so the council workers would be collecting the bins on both sides of the street and she didn’t want to be their early morning floor show, so she hurriedly pulled the curtains closed over the broken blinds.

Reaching for the light switch, she found the single light globe hovering over her head had blown. Mentally taking stock of the morning up to that point, she decided it was disastrous and apparently getting worse by the second. The clock was ticking. The next bus would be pulling up at the nearest bus stop in eight minutes and she couldn’t even resort to the flashlight on her phone.

She pulled a skirt and shirt from the wardrobe, hoping they matched or at least came close, and her fingers felt around manically under her bed for her shoes. She didn’t have time to open the curtains and begin her search. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual as her anxiety levels had peaked. She needed this job as she had few savings left and she had health insurance due the following week, along with the rent and utilities. Molly was well aware that her landlord was not the understanding type. His eldest son and right-hand man, Joel, on the other hand, would offer leniency, accepting part-payment at a price Molly would never pay. He knew she was single, struggling financially and he made his terms very clear. The very thought made her skin crawl and her stomach heave. She would rather live in a tent than give in to him.

Still shuddering with the revolting image of Joel when he delivered his disgusting proposition, Molly raced into the kitchen, on the way calling out to her younger brother, Tommy. Quickly she realised with the lack of a response that he had already left for work. She was grateful that at least one of them had headed off on time. After grabbing a muesli bar from the pantry for breakfast and tossing the phone charger into her bag, Molly threw on her heavy overcoat and hurriedly closed and locked the front door behind her. She navigated puddles down the cracked pathway of her yard, noticing the grass on either side was covered with a layer of overnight frost. Winter was there to stay, she decided as she ran in the rain-dampened cold morning air for the bus stop only two streets from hers. She had forgotten her gloves so she secured her bag on her shoulder and pushed her hands inside the deep pockets of her heavy overcoat. She had, according to her calculations, two minutes to make it to the stop.

Still catching her breath as she rounded the corner, Molly watched in horror as the fully laden bus pulled away from the kerb. The windows were foggy with the warm breath of the early morning passengers all cramped inside and holding on to the ceiling straps so they didn’t lose their footing as the bus muscled its way into the fast flow of traffic. She stopped in her tracks, huffing and puffing and staring helplessly as it drove away. Never before had she wished so much to be crammed uncomfortably against strangers as she did at that moment. Never before had she worried that two minutes could potentially change the course of her life and put her on the unemployment line.

A feeling of resignation that she had no power to change her sad state of affairs washed over her as she walked towards the bus stop and waited in line for the next bus. She could make it to her temp assignment if the next one was on time, but if it was late then she too would be late and there was the risk that the practice would call the agency and request another temp and she would be down a month’s steady income.

That couldn’t happen, she thought as she looked around her at the crowd building in anticipation of the arrival of the next early morning bus. Was she the only one who had slept in and was at risk of eviction if the bus was late? Was she the only person whose life had been tipped upside down and had still not righted itself, despite how hard and how long she tried to get herself back on track? Was she the only one who couldn’t afford to hail a cab even if she could get one to stop, which she doubted as they would all be taken on a day like this?

The cold breeze gained intensity, cutting through Molly’s coat. She pulled her arms closer to her body and tried to stop the shivers taking over. Chilled to her core, and waiting in line for a bus that she prayed would arrive in time, she looked around at the others also huddled around the bus shelter. There were schoolchildren of various ages and heights in different uniforms but all with raincoats and backpacks; office workers with briefcases; a construction worker in his high-vis vest, carrying his metal lunch box and hard hat; and an elderly couple holding gloved hands, their faces a little contorted by the frosty elements but no doubt, Molly thought, warmed by each other’s company. She had no such comfort or company.

Within a few minutes, and with no warning, the ominous grey clouds that were threatening a downpour opened their floodgates. Hurriedly Molly reached back for her hood but there wasn’t one. Both of her black winter overcoats were on the hall stand and naturally, in keeping with the tone of the morning, she had chosen the coat without a hood. There was no room as her fellow travellers rushed for the already oversubscribed shelter and moments later it became obvious her umbrella was not in her oversized handbag.

It couldn’t get worse, Molly decided. She would arrive resembling a drowned rat and more than likely late for a much-needed new job. She allowed herself a few seconds to once again indulge in the state of her life, which at that moment was quite dreadful. Then she took a deep breath and settled her thoughts. Until she looked down at her rain-splattered feet and almost laughed out loud.

‘Really? Who does that?’ she mumbled. With the noise of the heavy traffic rushing by on the wet roads no one could have heard her mutterings but Molly no longer cared if they had. It didn’t bother her if the world thought she was mad because at that moment she felt awfully close to it anyway. In her fluster and the darkness of her tiny bedroom, she had slipped into odd ballet flats. One navy and the other black. The black one had a small velvet bow and Molly felt quite certain that unless her work colleagues were short-sighted they would notice. It would be an embarrassing beginning. Then something deep inside reminded her that it was the beginning of something new. A new start, she thought. A rebooting of her life, she told herself as the rain trickled down her temples and inside the collar of her coat.

With that thought, her soggy chin raised a little. It was the beginning of Molly Murphy’s new life. The old debts were finally paid in full. It had taken her eleven months to repay everything. The man who had destroyed her credit rating and almost destroyed her life was gone. And she had a new job. The new, resolute Molly was ready to build a new life...but one without a man. She might have a terrible address at that moment and no long-term, well-paid career prospects, but she had done the best she could.

Hindsight would have seen her make very different financial decisions. But hindsight was like that. It was wise and sensible. And she had been neither when she’d met the man she’d thought would be her happily ever after. She had rushed in and believed every word he had whispered in her ear. Hung on every promise he’d made in the warmth of the bed they’d shared. Trusted every dream he’d told her as she’d smiled at her beautiful diamond engagement ring. She’d thought her life was turning around after the sadness of losing her parents. She’d believed she had found the one. The man who would make her dreams come true. The one who would make her life whole again.

But all of it was a lie. A well-planned, brilliantly executed lie.

And one she had willingly and naively bought into and lost almost everything she had in the process. But fortunately, not everything. She still had her most treasured, shining ace.

She had Tommy.

Looking up into the falling raindrops, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And so, she did neither. Instead she let the water run over her face, waking her up completely, while her icy fingers felt around in the bottom of her bag for her makeshift breakfast. She unwrapped it and unceremoniously wolfed it down in three bites. At least the pain in her head was subsiding and while she was quite powerless to change much about the morning, she could at least prevent her stomach growling with hunger. The very first day of winter was testing her mettle but she would get through it. She had Tommy and together they could face whatever life threw at them. They had already proven that.

Suddenly the thought of her younger brother warmed her heart and went a little way to quelling her rising anxiety. He more than made up for the wreck the other parts of her life had become. And on the days when she felt herself spinning a little close to the edge, knowing they had each other kept her grounded.

And that day would be no different.

Whatever the world threw at her, she would face it head-on.

She had to do that for Tommy.