The Turning Tide (Medical Romance Series

By Shirley Heaton

Overcome with disbelief and anger when she learns of her husband’s grubby little affair, Sandra realises she is about to be replaced by a ‘younger model’, ousted by the scheming Roxy.

But common-sense prevails. The sooner she is rid of her cheating husband, Mike, the better. Her marriage over and, adamant no man will wheedle his way into her life ever again, Sandra is determined to start afresh and establish a new beginning.

Despite her good intentions, when she embarks on a Caribbean cruise the handsome ship’s doctor, Giorgio Rossini, comes into her life unsteadying her. But Sandra’s thoughts are in chaos when she sees the way he is with young nurse, Mariela and, unsure of his relationship with the nurse, she becomes guarded. But, whilst she has problems discovering the truth about his marital status, she tells herself situations are not always what they appear, and she struggles to resist his charms.

Her feelings blow hot and cold, vacillating from positive to negative. Will she falter and give in to temptation or will she remain strong and maintain her resolve?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shirley Heaton
• Release date: Apr 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311707406

Shirley Heaton

Shirley Heaton has lived in Yorkshire, England all her life and she enjoys quality time with her daughter, her son and her four grandchildren. She began her career as a medical secretary but some years later with an urge to explore and fulfil her potential she gained a B.Sc.(Hons) and later an M.Ed. before reaching senior status in a large comprehensive school. Having travelled extensively she has gained a wide knowledge of people and cultures which she uses, together with her personal experiences, in her writing.

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The Turning Tide

by Shirley Heaton

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © Shirley Heaton 2015

The right of Shirley Heaton to be identified as author of this work asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved

No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the author.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims damages

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Prologue

It was strange the way it happened. I’d met Val for coffee at the Tasty Treat and there we were chatting away, mainly about the kids, when I overheard one of the women on the next table mention that she worked at Waverley, Williams. That’s my husband, Mike’s company and the conversation between the two women triggered my curiosity. I leant back in my chair and listened more intently wondering if perhaps I knew the woman. When I glanced over Val’s shoulder to check her out I noticed she had her back to me. Her hair was a sort of honey blonde colour and she looked quite slim. I certainly didn’t recognise her from the back view.

Although Val was chatting away to me in the background, I wasn’t taking in what she was saying. It was rude of me I know, but I was becoming more and more involved listening to those two. I was intrigued to know more about the woman who worked at my husband’s company.

The way the conversation went between them, the honey blonde had obviously not seen her friend for some time.

‘I’ve been dying to tell you, Debs, but you know what it’s like finding the time to phone,’ she offered.

‘Tell me about it! I know exactly what you mean. I’m full of good intentions but then I forget until it’s too late to ring.’ The friend pondered for a second or two before turning to the honey blonde. ‘But what exactly have you been dying to tell me?’

‘About my new job. I’m a financial adviser now,’ she boasted.

‘Oh, lordy lord. Hark at you! Financial adviser? That sounds posh.’ She shook her head. ‘But what happened with the job at the water board? I didn’t know you’d left.’

‘I had no choice but to leave. I was made redundant. I had to find something else, and quick. Lucky I did.’ She lifted her shoulders and sighed.

‘How do you mean?’

‘I started out as a clerk and then I was promoted. One of the bosses thought I had promise.’ She giggled. ‘It’s Mike. He’s a partner and the one who promoted me.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘And the best thing is he says he’s madly in love with me.’

‘Madly in love with you? The boss, you mean?’

The honey blonde nodded.

The second I heard her mention Mike’s name my head started to spin and my stomach churned. You see, my Mike is one of the only two partners at Waverley, Williams. The other partner, Charles Waverley, is due to retire when he turns seventy-five next year. Surely the woman couldn’t be referring to my Mike. I certainly had no inkling he was going astray.

‘He’s quite a bit older than me.’ The honey blonde turned to her friend and beamed. ‘It wasn’t love at first sight or anything like that,’ she continued. ‘It sort of grew on us. Mike asked me out once or twice. At first I refused – knowing he was married and all that – but he persisted. And in the end I gave in.’ She pushed back her sleeve and pointed to her wrist. ‘That’s when he bought me this.’

I strained to look but I couldn’t quite see what she was pointing at. But I gathered it must be either a bracelet or a watch.

‘Wow! That’s lovely. You’ve dropped lucky there,’ her friend pointed out.

‘And how!’

‘Does his wife suspect?’

‘Mike says not at all. Apparently she doesn’t take all that much interest in him – you know the usual excuse – my wife doesn’t understand me. Those were his exact words and I know it sounds corny but I happen to believe him.’ She nodded her head in confirmation. ‘She’s apparently more concerned with domestics. He says she’s happiest when she’s cooking and cleaning. A man expects more than that doesn’t he, if you know what I mean? I laughed when he told me she’s a bit on the chubby side these days.’ She let out another giggle. ‘From his description I reckon she’s a bit of a frump!’

Her friend responded. ‘I’ve heard it all before. Don’t you think a lot of these middle-aged women let themselves go?’

‘I’ll say. They don’t think it’s important to put on a show for their men.’

I shuddered and a host of questions rattled through my brain. Was I hearing this right? Surely she wasn’t referring to me? I’d always felt wanted, looking after Mike the way I did. And I had no indication he wasn’t happy the way we were. But don’t they always say that if you listen in to someone else’s conversation you never hear anything good about yourself? Well they, whoever they are, proved to be absolutely right.

‘What do you think?’ Val interrupted my eavesdropping and I tried to drag my mind back to the conversation with her but I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. I should have been listening more carefully. It was wrong of me but I was so taken aback at what I was hearing I couldn’t concentrate on Val’s words.

‘Sorry Val,’ I whispered. ‘I was miles away. I’ve just overheard the two women on the next table talking about someone and I’m sure they were referring to my Mike.’

‘Your Mike?’ she repeated.

‘That’s right. But shush a minute, Val, if you don’t mind,’ I put my finger to my lips. ‘I think they’re about to leave,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when they’re out of earshot.’

The two women were pushing back their chairs and the honey blonde who’d been bragging about Mike turned as she opened the door for her friend. I had to admit she was quite attractive and much younger than Mike, mid-thirties I’d say. And now that I had a full-on view I certainly didn’t recognise her.

‘Thanks Roxy,’ the friend offered.

Roxy? I was gobsmacked, stunned to the core. Surely it couldn’t be the famous Roxy, the woman Mike always considered to be the office tart. My mind seized on his description of the woman. She’s anyone’s! And a bit of a slag if you ask me. But I have to admit she’s not bad at the job.

At the time I insisted he shouldn’t be saying such things about his staff and I thought it rather cruel of him. I told him so too. But his words certainly described her well if, as I’d overheard, she was having an affair with my husband.

My stomach began to flutter again. How could Mike have described her so when he was having an affair with her? To blacken her character I suppose and probably to throw me off the scent in case my suspicions were aroused. The lying ratbag! And what did he mean by discussing me with this Roxy woman? She’d called me a frump. How dare she? I was on the verge of getting up and approaching her as the door was closing behind them. But Val tapped my arm.

‘Are you sure they were talking about your Mike,’ she asked, frowning and shaking her head.

‘I’m positive,’ I stressed. ‘I heard the other one call her name. It’s Roxy. You don’t hear a name like that every day. And Mike reckons she’s the company tart – to be coarse I think he meant she’s a bit of a scrubber. And then the Roxy woman tells her friend Mike’s madly in love with her.’ I could feel my forehead crumpling into a heavy frown and I let out a sigh. ‘I just don’t understand.’

‘Surely if that’s her image he wouldn’t be interested?’

‘You’d think not. All I can say is that his description of her has to be a cover-up. He’s been lying to me.’ As I stared out of the window I saw the two women disappear into the car park. It was too late now for a confrontation. And perhaps it would have been the wrong approach anyway.

‘You need to tackle him about the woman,’ Val insisted, ‘that’s if you’re sure about what you heard.’

I had the feeling Val thought I was sensationalising, or that I had misheard. But I hadn’t, I was certain of that.

‘I’m definitely sure. She works at Mike’s company. She spelt that out quite clearly. And he’s the only boss called Mike. In fact, as far as I know, he’s the only Mike working for the company.’ I pondered. ‘I might test him out first, mention the Roxy woman casually in conversation and see what he has to say.’

‘Good idea. Check his reactions too. If he has guilt written all over his face, you know it’s true.’

‘Absolutely! And, yes, I’m determined to tackle him as soon as the opportunity arises.’

Val’s parting words as we left the Tasty Treat were, ‘Don’t let him get away with it, darling! Promise me you’ll challenge him!’

‘Don’t you worry, I’m not about to ignore the issue.’ I paused and tried to convince myself that it was nothing but a pack of lies. ‘Of course this Roxy woman could be making it all up,’ I added.

‘I doubt it, Sandra. What would be the point?’

‘I meant for her friend’s sake, you know, bragging about the job and the relationship.’

Val pulled a face and I knew, now that I’d convinced her, she thought my comment about the bragging a flimsy excuse. She believed it was actually happening. But I had to latch onto some positive thoughts.

I was shaking as I left. What should I do next? Should I tell him what I’d overheard? He’d laugh and say I’d taken hold of the wrong end of the stick as usual, or that it was my mind playing tricks and that I was adding two and two together and making five. He always had an answer for everything.

A knot of panic clotted the back of my throat and a wave of nausea came over me. I tried to swallow and calm myself but I was still in a daze when I slipped into the driving seat of my little sports car, the one Mike had insisted on buying me earlier this year for my forty-seventh birthday. He’d said it suited my image. But surely the image of a fat frump doesn’t befit the driver of a bright red sports car! And what crossed my mind in an instant was the reason he’d bought it. Guilty conscience, that’s what it was. And all the time I thought it was out of genuine love.

I became more and more agitated as I switched on the car ignition. At that moment my world seemed to fall apart. Everything Mike and I had meant to each other and done together seemed to disintegrate as though shattered by some explosive device. And what would Lisa say? She’d be devastated. She thought the world of Daddy. She worshipped him. If he decided to leave, she’d beg him not to go.

The big question now was, how could I go on, knowing what was happening behind my back? And now I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks. Was I destined to be ousted and replaced by this Jezebel? Was this the beginning of the end between Mike and me?

I could feel rebellion rampaging through me. Anger started to well up inside, replacing my sorrow. The end? I asked myself. Never! Not without a fight!

Chapter 1

A mixture of uncertainty and apprehension flooded my mind. But I’d made my decision to travel alone. Once I’d decided my marriage to Mike was over and the divorce was settled I booked a cruise. It was a new beginning and I didn’t care two hoots about him anymore, or any of the male species. As far as I was concerned all men were imbeciles. End of!

I was in a bit of a daze when I reached the station platform. It was almost deserted except for a drama queen of a porter who lifted my suitcase, frowned and shook his head. With more venom than a cobra he slammed a sticker furiously on the lid and the words, printed boldly in red, were emblazoned there for everyone to see – Heavy Bag. That was a first and just what I needed. I don’t think. Weren’t such labels usually reserved for flight luggage? This guy probably had a stock of his own shoved in his back pocket. But what a label to be stuck with! Thankfully Lisa wasn’t around to give me that I told you so look.

I gave myself a shake and forced myself to lighten up. I was getting judgemental again despite persistently telling myself to slow down and not let things get the better of me. But there’s no doubt about it. It’s definitely his fault I’m like this. Mike’s fault, I mean. And, although I’m placing the blame at his door, don’t think I’m bitter because I’m not. I’m over him now. At first it was the hurt. Now it’s the rage battling inside me. How could I have been so stupid? But now I’ve seen the light.

The porter gave me a withering glance. I scowled back at him and held out a two pound coin. He almost snatched it from me and rolled his eyes as though I’d given him the black spot. That’s gratitude for you. What did he expect? If I needed a new man in my life, and I can assure you I don’t, I’d certainly avoid his type.

I must say, if nothing else, carrying cases was something Mike was good at. I wonder what he’s doing now. Carrying her cases no doubt – his floozy, Roxy whatever her name is. I ask you, what sort of a name is Roxy? A name she’s invented I’d say. But he’s welcome to her. If he thinks he can improve on the status quo, let him get on with it.

I sighed, I don’t know why because I didn’t miss him. In fact I was glad to be rid of him, socks, boxer shorts and all – littering the bedroom floor like flotsam on the ocean. Yes, I did say boxers. He’d recently changed to them. At first I couldn’t understand why, even though I’d suggested ages ago they were more fashionable and more hygienic. They allowed the air to circulate I’d told him. No, he insisted, he preferred the Y-fronts any day.

But someone had convinced him, hadn’t they? No doubt this Roxy woman.

After Mike and I split and he left to live with the Jezebel, Val had suggested I book a cruise.

‘They’ll be lots of opportunities to mix with people,’ she stressed, trying her best to comfort me. ‘Let’s face it, Sandra, if he can go off skiing to the States, let him know you have a mind of your own too.’

A mind of my own? That was a joke. Year after year I’d put up with caravanning in Scotland when all the time I wanted to go somewhere hot, somewhere exotic, or at least somewhere different. I couldn’t have opted for the skiing though. My sports are tennis and badminton. I wasn’t bad at skating when I was a kid. But skiing down a mountain – no way. I’m not the skiing type. I smothered a giggle. Nor is Mike for that matter. He’s not bad at squash, so he tells me, but anything else, forget it. Of course, being younger than him, his floozy will be schussing down the pistes. He’ll be lucky if he can tackle the snow plough. I stifled another giggle and thought about my cruise. A much more sensible idea.

I stared after the porter handling my suitcase. It was heavy I could vouch for that. I only finished packing it this morning and Lisa was there watching me. What a hassle that was. To start with she wasn’t happy at my travelling alone, especially taking a cruise. And nor was I at first. I was having second thoughts.

‘I don’t know if Val was right, persuading me to take a cruise on my own,’ I’d said to her. ‘You know, darling, your father should be coming with me.’

She slipped an arm around my shoulder and turned me towards her, holding my gaze. I knew she anticipated my words, the usual piece of repeat information and the usual reaction.

‘But he’s gone, Mummy, on a whim if you ask me. Would you want him back?’ She shook her head. ‘Even if he’d had second thoughts and realised his mistake, you know as well as I do he’d do it again. I love him to bits, but that’s what he’s like. Goodness, you’ve seen how he works his charms. You’ve been together long enough.’ She kept her eyes focused on mine but she must have been asking herself, how many times do we have to go through this charade? She continued. ‘I’d love it if you were both back together again but, be honest with yourself, you know his weakness.’

‘And how!’ I sighed recalling the many times I’d caught him in the act. I nodded. ‘I take it you mean the flirting.’ I tutted. ‘You’re right, darling. I’ve put up with his little game for the past twenty five years. And that’s going some.’ I pulled myself up tall and stuck my chin in the air. ‘Enough is enough. I definitely wouldn’t have him back.’ The words came out staccato-like. ‘I could never trust him again.’

‘Well said, Mummy!’

And now as she watched me packing the last minute bits in my suitcase, I anticipated her words, knowing she’d still not come round to the fact that I was going on a cruise. She frowned. ‘You shouldn’t be going away alone. Val should never have encouraged you,’ she stressed.

But she was too late with her advice. I’d made up my mind. I tucked the last of my T-shirts into the suitcase and attempted to lift it from the bed.

‘I don’t like it, Mummy. You never know who you might meet,’ she added.

That’s when I drifted into my positive mood. Whoopee! That’s exactly what I thought. I could be lucky.

But no! I was definitely off men. I didn’t reply

Lisa glanced at the flimsy white blouse I was wearing and carefully scrutinised it, shaking her head and taking in the cut of me. I followed her gaze and looked down at the blouse. Had I dripped egg yolk or tomato sauce down it? And then she looked at me as though I was something the milkman had left outside with the bottle of milk – but not quite as doorstep fresh. Screwing up her face she asked, ‘What’s that frilly thing you’re wearing? Don’t you think it’s a bit young for you? I can see your bra.’ She blinked her eyes and shook her head.

‘That’s not my bra, darling, it’s a camisole.’

‘And that belt slung round your hips. That’s what teenagers are wearing.’

‘Lovely,’ I told her. ‘It goes to show the young ones have good taste.’

‘You’re not getting it are you, Mummy?’ she stressed. ‘I didn’t really want to say it, but you know,’ she paused, ‘mutton dressed as lamb!’

‘Really darling.’ I laughed. ‘Where’s the mint sauce?’

I knew exactly what she meant. But she hadn’t said anything when her dad went off in that navy and white jog suit, his grey hair spiked up with gel like an old cockerel dressed as a spring chicken.

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror, flicking back my hair. I was a genuine blue-eyed blonde but I did admit to a few highlights to liven up the colour. I studied myself. I wasn’t bad for my age, still a size ten, and a thirty-six C cup. Mike always used to say I was well-endowed up top and that he liked a bit of meat on his woman. I haven’t changed – not that he’d notice. And my hips – they’re slim, and easy enough to swivel. So what’s wrong with wearing one of those nice broad belts? Could it be that Lisa didn’t like me looking seductive? I suppose seductive is a bit strong – attractive then. She’d accepted the fact that Daddy had chosen another woman but I don’t think she liked to think of me attracting another man – not that I intended to!

She broke into my thoughts. ‘And you don’t need to check yourself in the mirror. I know you’re very attractive for your age but you might feel vulnerable once you’re there. You’re not used to going it alone. Daddy can look out for himself.’

And Roxy too, I thought.

She stared at the suitcase as I placed it on the floor and sighed.

‘And what on earth have you got in that suitcase? A hod of bricks?’

Wow, I was shaking in my shoes. Talk about being ticked off. I smiled. I knew it was rather a sickly smile. I certainly wasn’t about to have her vet the contents of my suitcase.

But hang on. I’m supposed to be the one in charge. When had this role-reversal thing come about? Just to be bolshie I gave a hand-salute.

She gave me one of those do we have to put up with your childish behaviour looks before she piped up again. ‘Don’t be silly, Mummy. I know it’s a cruise and, as I’ve said, you’re still attractive, but it’s not as though you’re going to be belle of the ball.’ She grinned at her own comment. ‘You’re hardly in your prime. People are not going to check what you’re wearing each night.’ She corrected herself. ‘Or should I say evening?’ She chuckled. ‘Your winceyette jim-jams at night – I hope.’

‘Don’t you be too sure, lady,’ I retaliated. ‘What about my strappy silk negligée?’

‘Strappy silk negligée? For crying out loud, you know exactly what I mean.’ She took in a deep breath and blew it out. ‘Goodness knows how you’re going to behave on board. The very thought makes me cringe.’ She blinked her eyes again as seemed to be her reaction to everything I was doing. And that was because she didn’t want me to go away, of course. ‘In the evenings you could wear things over and over again, two or three times,’ she continued. ‘Come on, Mummy. You’ll never see forty again, so why all the luggage?’ She hunched her shoulders, shook her head and looked away.

‘Ha–ha.’ I joined in the hilarity. That was her opinion and I’d keep mine to myself. ‘How kind of you. Thank you for the vote of confidence,’ I added and, to irritate her even more, I bowed dramatically with a sweep of the hand and tugged an imaginary forelock, knowing I was getting up her nose with my little gestures. ‘But that’s what I’m taking,’ I concluded, pointing a finger towards the suitcase.

‘What are you like?’ she blazed and then she smiled. ‘But, sorry, Mummy. I didn’t mean any offence.’

Another indication that she despised the fact that I was going alone. But I knew it was mainly because she was worried. It was perfectly all right for her father to vanish into thin air with the tart. But not me, not the hard-working, washed-out earth-mother.

At the sound of a loud cough I pulled my thoughts together and looked up. The porter was limping dramatically along the platform making a right old palaver of dragging my suitcase. Shaking his head and breathing heavily like an old man with asthma, he lifted it on to the trolley, placed his hand at the base of his spine and rubbed. Silly man! Who did he think he was kidding? He didn’t look a day over forty.

But do I care? Not one iota. I’m travelling first class so isn’t it his job to carry my luggage? That’s what he’s paid for. I looked away and sighed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have packed all those shoes. On the other hand it is nice to match shoes and bags.

I climbed into the carriage and straightened my bright red skirt beneath me before I sat down and made myself comfortable. I didn’t want to arrive in Miami in a crumpled heap. I looked around and smiled to myself at the mixed bunch. What a set of sober-sides. If this was first-class, I’d drop down a notch any day.

The man across was in a dark navy suit. Something drastic must have happened the way his mouth drooped at the corners. Perhaps his wife hadn’t played the game last night. And the younger guy, the thin one opposite him, had sharp, bright eyes. You could tell he had quite an opinion of himself by his demeanour. He was sporting one of those designer beards. I think that’s what they call that excuse for not shaving. I wonder what his partner thinks, if he has a partner that is. She must be prepared to put up with a puffy red face when he’s finished scuffing it with his two-day shadow?

I looked away and reconsidered my opinion about designer beards. I suppose it is the latest style for young men, especially if they’re attractive. Lisa’s boyfriend, Martin has one and I must say it suits him.

The young guy looked up and I quickly averted my gaze but not before I caught him