Un-Deniable (Left at the Crossroads #3)
By Lisa Worrall
4/5
()
About this ebook
Little Mowbury is a sleepy English village deep in the Cotswolds. The kind of village where you’re only a local if your lineage can be traced back to the dinosaurs. Where you can find everything in the single village shop from morning newspapers to dry-cleaning, and getting your shoes mended. And, of course, where everybody knows everybody else’s business. It’s easy to find... you can’t miss it... just ask anyone and they’ll tell you... “It’s left at the crossroads.”
Oliver Bradford has had enough of the hustle and bustle of the A&E department in a big city hospital. Not to mention the tension caused by the break-up of his three year relationship with one of the hospital’s top surgeons. When his sister urges him to apply for the position of GP in the quiet village of Little Mowbury, he wonders if this might be just the fresh start he needs. Unfortunately, hitting the post-mistresses’ dog with his car isn’t the best introduction to his patients.
A solitary soul, Deano Wells grew up in Little Mowbury and has been having lunch at the Thatcher’s Arms on a Thursday for the last thirty-five years. First with his father, who brought him to the pub at the tender age of ten after a hard morning in the fields, and then by himself after his father passed on. He runs the farm with a practised hand and minds his business mostly, but that doesn’t stop Oliver from being drawn to the big, quiet man and he knows the feeling is mutual, so why does Deano keep pushing him away?
Lisa Worrall
I live in Leigh on Sea, a small seaside town just outside London on the coast of Essex, about ten minutes from Southend, which boasts the longest pier in the world. I live with my partner and two ever-growing children, who I let think are the boss of me; along with a dog who actually is. As the wonderful Beatrix Potter said, "There is something delicious about writing the first words of a new story. You never quite know where they'll take you." I know exactly what she means and hope you'll join me for the ride.
Read more from Lisa Worrall
Is Love Still Enough? Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings'Tis the Season Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Monty Gets Arrested (Marshall's Park #1) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Monty Gets Married... Doesn't He? (Marshall's Park #10) Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Solo Honeymoon Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Finding Myles Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Monty's Trick or Treat (Marshall's Park #8) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Marshall's Park, The Complete Series Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Always Hope Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Monty Punches Pocahontas (Marshall's Park #9) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Monty Meets the Parents (Marshall's Park #7 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Thirst Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRunning from the Past Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Westford Hall Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Gardener and The Movie Star Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Moving Monty In (Marshall's Park #6) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Ed & Fred Are... Dead Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Nanny for Nate Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Follow My Lead Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSummer Heat Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5What's the Worst that Could Happen? Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Perkatory Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsForever Dusk Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5Meeting Monty's Parents (Marshall's Park #4) Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5
Related to Un-Deniable (Left at the Crossroads #3)
Related ebooks
Promises Kept Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Noblest Vengeance: Have Body, Will Guard, #6 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRipples in Cedarwood Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Harder They Fall Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Tangled Web Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Deuce of Diamonds: Ian Coulter's Amethyst Cove, #2 Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5He's So Heavy Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHome Sweet Home Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsIced Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Montana Sky Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A Cat Named Hercules: The Men of Marionville, #5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Gardener and The Movie Star Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Olives for the Stranger: Have Body, Will Guard, #4 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Finding Myles Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Under the Waterfall: Have Body, Will Guard, #5 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Teach Me Tonight: Have Body, Will Guard, #3 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Rocking Cedarwood Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBroken Neon Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Cold Wind: Have Body, Will Guard, #8 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMilner & Dunn: From Sea and Sand (Paranormal Gay Romance) Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Strength of a Man Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Madness of Husbands Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsEnvy Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLeaving Home Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Soldier's Tale Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Just His Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5The Same Page: Have Body, Will Guard, #9 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Ideal Side of Love Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Holiday Homecoming Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Madness of Husbands: Have Body, Will Guard, #10 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Gay Fiction For You
The Priory of the Orange Tree Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Farrell Covington and the Limits of Style: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Maurice Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Pomegranate: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Cabin at the End of the World: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Him: Him, #1 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Kiss Her Once for Me: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Ghost Wall: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5City of Night Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Marvellous Light Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Lie With Me: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5We the Animals Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Exquisite Corpse Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Young Mungo Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Boy's Own Story: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Querelle of Roberval Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Orlando: A Biography Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Silver in the Wood Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Us: Him, #2 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume I Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Just by Looking at Him: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5And Then He Sang a Lullaby Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Was: a novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5We Are Water: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Faggots Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Persian Boy Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5White Trash Warlock Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Mr. Loverman: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5These Violent Delights: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Reality of Us Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Related categories
Reviews for Un-Deniable (Left at the Crossroads #3)
4 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
Un-Deniable (Left at the Crossroads #3) - Lisa Worrall
Un-Deniable by Lisa Worrall
Copyright 2015 by Lisa Worrall
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Trademarks Acknowledgement:
The author acknowledges the trademark status and the trademark owners of the following word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Carry on Camping: The Rank Organisation
Scholl: Reckitt Benckiser
Coco Pops: Kelloggs
Sellotape: Sellotape®
Budweiser: Anheuser-Busch
Table of Contents
Copyright
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Epilogue
About Me
Also Available
Chapter one
Oliver stared at the map. Why he had no idea. The next stage of his journey hadn’t leapt out at him in the last twenty-five minutes so what did he think… the power of his frustrated gaze was going to burn the route onto his retinas if he glared at it long enough? He tossed the map onto the passenger seat of the BMW and buried his fingers in his hair, gripping tightly in his annoyance.
The irritating monotone voice on the GPS unit had suddenly sounded as though she’d drained an entire bottle of JD, with her words slurring into one another before she faded out completely. That had been ten miles back, and he’d managed to lose himself twice since his chatty companion had left him to fend for himself. Of course, he’d tried to coax her back with promises and gentle soothing and, when that hadn’t worked, had repeatedly pressed every single button he could find then whacked the screen with his fist. None of which had convinced her to start talking again. That’s when he’d remembered the map he’d purchased on a whim at the garage he’d stopped to fill up at earlier. The same map he’d just screwed up into a useless ball and thrown down beside him.
Where the chuff is this place? It’s like bloody Brigadoon!
Oliver opened the door, climbed out of the car and shielded his eyes against the sun with his hand. He couldn’t deny it was beautiful countryside, or that it was indeed in the middle of nowhere. That combination had been the main reasons he’d found the job opening so attractive. Oliver leaned against the car, crossed his arms and filled his lungs with fresh country air. He could hear Becky’s voice now as she’d burst into his flat, waving the Haymarket magazine at him.
He would be the first to admit that seeing Andrew at the hospital every day had begun to suck all the enthusiasm for his job right out of him, and being an intern in the casualty department wasn’t something you could afford to do unfocused. It hadn’t taken long for him to decide he needed a complete change. A change of employment, of pace, of bloody everything.
Becky, his sister, had been very supportive when she’d found out about Andrew’s string of affairs. Although the support had only come after she’d told him she’d always thought Andrew was a wanker anyway. He had pointed out that it would have been quite helpful if she’d given her opinion when he’d started dating Andrew. Not waited until he’d had his heart plucked from his chest and stomped on by said wanker.
"Well, I thought I’d grow to like him, didn’t I." Her response had been less than apologetic.
And did you?
he’d asked.
Becky had simply topped up his glass of Jacob’s Creek and replied, Good God no. Man’s a tosser.
Five unbelievably long months later, she’d shoved the Haymarket under his nose and jabbed an excited finger at the advertisement she’d circled in fuchsia lipstick. It’s perfect! Exactly what you need. New job, new house, new people. Fire up the laptop and let’s send your C.V.
Oliver gazed around him, the only sounds the gentle thrum of the BMW’s engine and birdsong from the trees shrouding the country lane. Becky had been deciding the route his life should take from the moment they were out of nappies—having a twin was not always a blessing, especially when they knew you better than you knew yourself. The C.V. had been emailed and before he’d had time to breathe he’d had two phone interviews and a Skype call with the retiring GP. Now he was staring at miles of British countryside wondering if Becky had been wrong this time.
His main priority at the moment, however, was trying to figure out how to get to where he was going. There was, of course, the possibility he could be stranded in the arse-end of fuck-alone-knows-where forever. His frantic family would end up sticking posters of him around London and he’d eventually be found wandering around a farmer’s field wearing a cabbage leaf hat, up to his neck in sheep shit.
Lost, are ya?
"Jesus! Oliver exclaimed. He spun round to find a weathered face staring at him over the hedge.
You scared the crap out of me."
"Lost, are ya?" the elderly farmer repeated.
Oliver couldn’t see any mode of transportation, so where had the old man come from? All he had was a walking stick and a border collie. Maybe he flew in on the stick, or rode in on the dog. Oliver’s inner voice wasn’t exactly being helpful, so he ignored it and pasted what he hoped was a winning smile on his face. Yes, sir, I am. My GPS gave out on me about ten miles ago.
The old man gave a disapproving grunt. Can’t be doing with those new fangled electro gadgets. They never work round ‘ere. Sun’s best way to get ya where you’re goin’.
Oliver glanced up at the steadily beaming yellow ball in the sky and frowned. Unless the sun had directions to Little Mowbury etched into it, the bloody thing still looked the same to him. The man was obviously delusional. But then sniffing sheep shit had to have an effect on a person after fifty years or so. Would you know how to get to Little Mowbury, sir?
’Appen I do.
That’s great,
Oliver said on a sigh of relief, and smiled widely as he waited for the man to continue… and waited… and waited. What the hell? Is he giving me directions telepathically? Osmosis maybe? Um… could you tell me?
‘Bout eight miles up road,
the farmer replied, scratching idly at the bald pate visible under the rim of his flat cap. Just keep goin’ straight ‘til you get to crossroad an’ turn left. Stay on road for ‘bout four mile, but don’t go past Thatcher’s Arms.
Thatcher’s Arms?
Oliver echoed.
Uh-huh, pass Thatcher’s Arms an’ you’ve left village.
Oliver stared, open-mouthed, at the man. Was this actually happening or had there been bad prawns in that sandwich he’d bought in the same garage as the map? It was like conversing with Peter Butterworth in Carry on Camping. Were Sid James and Barbara Windsor going to pop out from behind a bush with Kenneth Williams? He inwardly cursed the Saturday afternoons his dad made him watch old British comedies, and shook his head in the vain hope it would dispel the bad sandwich dream he was trapped in. Nope, Farmer Barleymow still stared him down from the other side of the hedge.
Okay, thank you,
Oliver slid back into the driver’s seat and closed the door. He fastened his seatbelt and nodded at the old man. So that’s follow this road to the crossroads, do a left and just keep driving until I hit Little Mowbury?
The ancient farmer looked at him as though he was mad—or stupid—or both. You ain’t from round ‘ereabouts, are ya? Like I said, it’s left at t’crossroads.
Right, thanks, left at t’crossroads,
Oliver waved a hand out the open window and put his foot on the gas. ’Appen I might make it after all,
he mumbled in a poor imitation of the man’s accent as he headed, hopefully, towards Little Mowbury.
As he drove, Oliver remembered his conversations with the village’s retiring GP, Malcolm Winslow. Apparently his wife had been nagging him for the last ten years to find someone to take over the practice, and he’d finally succumbed to the call of the golf course and sipping Pimms in the garden under an umbrella. He’d told Oliver it was time to hand the reins over to the younger generation and keep his wife in a manner she was completely unaccustomed to.
Winslow had warned him that Little Mowbury was a typical English country village, with one teeny twist. It was the English country village that time forgot. His slightly manic chuckle hadn’t exactly instilled confidence when he’d told Oliver the villagers still considered him an outsider and he’d lived there for forty years. But Oliver wasn’t to worry. New blood was what the village needed—it just didn’t know it yet. Of course, Winslow had waited until last night to divulge that little nugget of information, a little too late for Oliver to do anything but pray. His flat had been let out, his furniture was waiting in storage to be shipped, and his mother had cried enough crocodile tears to make him feel guilty for the rest of his life.
Of course, the icing on the cake had been the knock on the door last night as he was on his way to bed. When he’d opened it, he’d half expected to see Becky on the mat with a bottle of red in one hand and a bag of Doritos in the other. He definitely hadn’t expected to see Andrew with a sheepish grin on his face and a six pack of Stella under his arm.
Against his better judgment he’d let him in. What followed had been two hours of screaming, yelling, angry tears—from Oliver. Pleas for him to stay—from Andrew, and the best sex they’d ever had. But as he’d lain there, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to Andrew’s breathing return to normal, Oliver