Tempted By The Single Mom (Yoxburgh Park Hospital)

by Caroline Anderson

  He chuckled again, the sound soft and rich and oddly disturbing. She busied herself with the kettle, ridiculously aware of him behind her. What was he making of the house? And what did it matter what he thought of her or her house?

  ‘Are these the kids’ drawings?’

  ‘Well, they’re not mine,’ she said with a laugh, turning back to him. He was studying the fridge, plastered with Oscar’s little doodles and scrawlings, Maisie’s almost recognisable pictures of a house and a bunch of flowers, and in the middle Evie’s small messy handprints in pink and green and orange. He reached out a finger and traced a little handprint, and there was a wistful smile on his face that touched her heart.

  Why doesn’t he have children?

  ‘How do you take your tea?’

  He turned back to her, the smile becoming suddenly more generic as he hid whatever feelings they’d been that she’d had that little glimpse of. ‘Oh, white, no sugar, as it comes.’ He glanced around, frowning slightly. ‘So how do you get to the garden? I take it there is a garden?’

  ‘Oh, yes, it’s a nice garden once you get to it, but you have to go through the sitting room—or out of the front and round the side.’

  His eyebrow twitched. ‘That’s handy for the bin.’

  She laughed again, this time with real irony. ‘You don’t say. The layout’s ridiculous. Someone blocked up the kitchen door that led to the garden, and yes, it’s handy to have more cupboard and worktop space, but a back door would be handy, too. If you can stand the mess, I’ll give you a guided tour while the kettle boils.’

  He chuckled again. ‘I can stand the mess,’ he said, and followed her, eyeing the house curiously as she pointed out the interesting features, like where the back door should have been, the lack of a utility room, the dining room with the wasted sea view, the three cramped bedrooms and tiny bathroom.

  ‘It’s not what I expected.’

  ‘What did you expect? Pristine tidiness?’

  He laughed and looked down at her, his eyes gentle. ‘No, I didn’t mean that at all. This is just normal family mess. I wasn’t expecting a sea view. You were lucky to get it. They’re always at a premium.’

  ‘Absolutely. That’s why we bought it. David never did anything by accident—well, not a lot,’ she added economically, and headed down the stairs. ‘And the sea view would be fine if I ever had time to look at it, but even if I did, you can hardly see it because of the stupid layout. The house isn’t big enough for three children, but I can’t afford to extend it or move house, and David’s attitude is if I want to do things to it, or move to something better, then all I have to do is have him back.’

  ‘I take it that’s not an option,’ he ventured cautiously.

  She laughed at that, a brittle little tinkle of sound, and led him back to the kitchen. ‘I don’t think it’s a serious suggestion anyway, so even if I thought it was a good idea, which I definitely don’t, I’m still stuck here.’

  ‘So what were you planning to do?’

  ‘Move the sitting room to the front and the dining room to the back because it’s as far from the kitchen as you can get at the moment, and extend it out into the garden to make a family area and put another bedroom and bathroom on. That way at least there would be a sea view from a room that would be used, rather than just the dining room, which I hardly use, and my bedroom, where I sleep with the curtains shut. As I said, wasted.’

  ‘That’s not wasted! You could lie in bed with a cup of tea in the mornings and look at the sea. Bliss.’

  ‘With three small children crawling all over me? That’s not bliss, that’s asking for trouble.’

  His face softened into a wry grin. ‘Yeah, maybe. But the downstairs layout is crazy, I’ll give you that. I’d probably just open it all up if you didn’t want to spend a lot.’

  ‘But then there’d be nowhere where I could just retreat and know it’s going to be tidy and not covered in toys. Here, your tea,’ she said, handing it to him, and led him back into the sitting room, sweeping little wooden blocks out of the way with her feet, and behind him she heard that chuckle again.

  ‘You need a fairy, Ellie. Someone to come in while everyone’s sleeping and tidy it all up.’

  She rolled her eyes and curled up on the sofa. ‘Er—that would be me? Nice idea, though. I wonder if the tooth fairy has a cousin who’s looking for work?’ she added with a grin, and he gave a soft huff of laughter and sat down opposite her, stretching his legs out with that little wince she’d noticed earlier.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, and he tilted his head slightly.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘You winced.’

  ‘Oh, that. No, it’s an old fracture. It plays up a bit if I’ve overdone it. It’s nothing.’

  ‘Overdone it? You sat in the staff room or the office for a lot of the day, and you’ve been sitting down at dinner.’

  ‘That’s today. Yesterday I moved all my stuff up here into my new house. There was a lot of lifting and lugging.’

  ‘Didn’t you have a removal company?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes. There’s still a lot of lugging around to be done. My fault. I should have been more specific about where I wanted things. Anyway, it’s all in the right place now, more or less. All I have to do is unpack.’

  She wondered where the house was, but it seemed rude to ask—except he’d seen every inch of her chaotic and overcrowded little house, so the location of his could hardly be a state secret. Even if it was none of her business...

  ‘Where is it?’ she asked, finally giving in to her curiosity.

  ‘Just round the corner, on a little private road with half a dozen or so houses on it near the steps to the beach.’

  ‘Jacob’s Lane. Wow. I know it well. There are some lovely houses there. Which one is it?’ she asked, totally forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to be being nosy.

  ‘Split-level timber thing on the right, built in the seventies, with a weird mono-pitch roof?’

  ‘I know the one, it’s been empty for a while. I really like it.’

  ‘Yeah, me, too. It’s nothing from the front but it’s quite interesting inside, and it’s got a lovely courtyard style walled garden—and all the rooms open onto it. The only thing lacking is the sea view, but I’ve got legs and it’s hardly far away.’

  That quirky grin again, which seemed to have some magic power over her.

  Why? Why him, her new colleague? Although he seemed to have forgiven her for her tirade this morning, so she should be grateful for that, and she could live with a bit of unrequited lust in the interests of a peaceful and amicable working relationship.

  ‘So does it need a lot of work?’

  ‘Not really. Just an injection of my taste and a bit of tweaking.’

  ‘Not a project like this was meant to be, then?’

  He gave a soft laugh and shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t want that, not now, not at this point in my life. I’ve had enough challenges. I’m ready for a quiet life.’

  She chuckled softly. ‘Me, too, but there’s not much chance of that with three small people. Frankly I’d settle for six hours’ sleep a night. That would help.’

  Just the thought made her want to cry with longing, and she was running out of steam. She stifled a little yawn, and apologised, but he gave her a wry smile.

  ‘I need to go. You’ve had a long day and I’m keeping you up, so I’ll leave you to what’s left of that early night you wanted. Maybe you’ll get more than six hours.’

  ‘Oh, bliss. I might even take a cup of tea up in the morning and look at my sea view. That would be a novelty.’

  He chuckled and got to his feet—that wince, again—and headed into the kitchen with his mug, setting it down on the worktop before he walked to the front door. Then he turned and smiled down at her, his eyes gentle, and her stomach flipped over.

&nb
sp; ‘Thanks for the tea and the guided tour, and for filling me in on the practice.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Thank you for walking me home, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary. I’ll see you on Monday.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  He hesitated for a moment, then cupped her shoulders in his hands and touched a kiss to her cheek, then dropped his hands, turned away and headed off in the direction of his house.

  She watched him go from the open doorway, her fingers tracing the tingle on her cheek. She’d felt the slight graze of stubble on her skin as he’d kissed her, breathed in the scent of his skin against hers, and her breath caught.

  Crazy. Her mind was scrambled by a mixture of tiredness, the two glasses of wine she’d had with dinner, and her unexpected reaction to a man she’d been convinced she’d dislike.

  And she didn’t dislike him at all, she realised. She liked him. Liked him a lot, and wanted to know more—such as why he didn’t have children, why his marriage had gone wrong, and why he’d moved here on what seemed like a whim. For the quiet life he’d talked about?

  Too many questions, and none of those things were anything to do with her. Just a colleague. Nothing more.

  ‘Get a grip, Ellie,’ she told herself, and closed the door firmly.

  * * *

  Damn.

  Why was she so nice?

  Stupid, really, but he hadn’t wanted her to be. Not a woman with three children. A woman with three children definitely wasn’t on his agenda, and there was no way on earth he was going there.

  So what was with the pang of regret?

  He missed his footing slightly in the dark, and his ankle wrenched a little, taking his mind off her.

  Not before time. They had to work together, and the last thing he needed in a new job that he hoped would be a long-term, settled future for him was an inappropriate reaction to an inappropriate woman.

  He crunched over the gravel drive, slid his key into the lock and closed the front door behind him with a sigh. Boxes everywhere, stacked up in every room. Boxes containing his life—and some of Samuel’s. Not that he was ready to unpack those yet. Might never be.

  Navigating his way to the kitchen, he put the kettle on, made himself a cup of chamomile tea and turned up the heating. Not that it was particularly cold, but the house had been empty for months, and it needed warmth and life injected back into it.

  A fridge smothered in multicoloured handprints and colourful scrawls? Blocks and cars and jigsaw pieces all over the floor?

  Hardly. He’d leave that to Ellie.

  Not that he had a choice. His own stupidity had taken care of that, but at least his sisters had provided their parents with grandchildren, so that box was ticked. One small thing that he didn’t have to feel guilty about.

  He went up the few steps to the sitting room, dropped onto the sofa, went to reach for the TV remote and changed his mind. Instead he leant back with a sigh, cradling his tea and letting his mind run back over the evening and all he’d learnt.

  Brian was a widower, working part-time but for how long Ellie didn’t seem to know, and as for the others, they were a cheerful, friendly bunch of people he’d be happy to work with. It would be nice to be part of a team again, after four years of patchy locum work as his brother had grown steadily more dependent. He’d taken time out to help his parents, but he’d missed it, missed the camaraderie, the belonging.

  He wanted to belong again, and from what he’d seen so far, he’d be welcomed with open arms by the other practice members.

  And then there was Ellie.

  Ellie, with her long dark hair, grey-green eyes that showed every emotion, and that wickedly dry sense of humour. Not to mention a curvy, womanly body that made him ache to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her senseless.

  No, that would be him who’d be senseless, because it wasn’t just her eyes and her wit and her lush, beautiful body. It was her three very small children, all part of the same package, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

  Liar.

  He sighed again, sipped the chamomile tea and pulled a face. The tea was the last thing he wanted, but he had no idea where he’d put the bottle of single malt he kept for the times when he wanted to drown his sorrows and wallow in self-pity, and maybe that was just as well.

  He had a lot to do tomorrow, and he needed to spend Sunday resting or his hip and ankle were going to give him hell.

  He got to his feet, went back down to the kitchen, poured the tea down the sink and went to bed.

  * * *

  Just because the damage was already done, the children were saints on Monday morning, and she dropped them off at nursery and walked into the practice at ten past eight with plenty of time to prepare for her morning surgery.

  She’d vowed not to drive so that Nick could have the parking space, this time without argument, and there was no sign of his car as she arrived. How gratifying—

  ‘Morning!’

  He appeared at the top of the stairs as she put her foot on the bottom step, and she couldn’t help the wry smile.

  ‘Your car isn’t here. I thought I’d beaten you to it.’

  His mouth kicked up, and she felt a strange sensation in her chest, a weird flutter that brought a tiny glow with it. What was it about that smile that it seemed to light up the corners of her heart?

  ‘Sorry to disappoint. I’ve been here since half seven. Lucy and Julia came in early so they could talk me through my day. It’s looking busy already.’

  ‘It will be. It’s always busy. Have you had a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, I’ve had coffee, but the kettle’s hot. I’ll be up again in a minute.’

  She nodded and headed up, passing him on the stairs. Wasn’t that supposed to be unlucky? Except that the stairs were wide and she’d hardly felt the brush of his arm against hers.

  Even so, it had left a little tingle in its wake—or was that the fresh scent of soap or shower gel that lingered in the air? She recognised it from Friday, when they’d been seated side by side at Andy and Lucy’s table, and again when he’d kissed her as he’d left. Not aftershave or cologne, more subtle than that, but it had made her want to rest her head against his chest and breathe him in—

  Pull yourself together! You’ve got work to do. Enough of the daydreaming and fantasy. He’s just a colleague.

  And if she told herself that often enough, maybe it’d sink in. She made a cup of tea, took it down to her consulting room and logged into her computer, and there was a tap on the door.

  ‘Come in!’

  It was Nick, sticking his head round the door with a serious look on his face. ‘Have you got two minutes? One of your patients is down to see me and he’d rather see you, apparently, only your list is full. James Golding?’

  ‘Oh, Jim. Yes, of course I can see him. He’s a dear old boy and he never makes a fuss. He’s had a triple bypass but he still gets angina from time to time, so it might be that. I’ll get Katie to swap it over.’

  ‘OK. I think he might be here already, actually.’

  ‘Sounds likely. I’ll see him now. You could take my first patient, if you like. I have no idea who they are so there’s no continuity of care issue.’

  ‘Done. I’ll see Katie. Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. I’d rather see Mr Golding myself because there must be something going on. He doesn’t like to make a fuss, so I’ll check him over thoroughly.’

  ‘Good. Thanks. See you later, maybe.’

  They shared a smile, and she went out into the waiting room and spotted Jim Golding, tucked into the corner with his hands knotted round the handle of his walking stick. She went over and perched beside him.

  ‘Morning, Jim. I gather you wanted to see me?’ she murmured, and he looked up and gave her a weary smile.

  ‘They said you were busy,’ he sai
d, his voice distressed.

  ‘No. We’ve swapped. You’re with me. Do you want to come now?’

  Not that she really had time, because there was always a ton of admin to do before she could start and it was going to put her behind, but there was something about the cautious way he stood up that set alarm bells ringing.

  ‘No rush,’ she said gently, and ushered the frail, elderly man into her consulting room and settled him in the chair. ‘So, Jim, tell me what’s going on.’

  * * *

  ‘How was he?’

  Ellie put her cup down with a plonk next to the kettle, not sure where to start, and he got up and went over to her.

  ‘Ellie? What’s up?’

  She pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure. He said he was OK but he’d had a twinge or two, so I’ve sent him to see Megan for a twelve-lead ECG and a raft of bloods. Just to be on the safe side. He also wanted me to draw up a DNAR.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, and I don’t like it. I think there’s something going on that he hasn’t told me. Gut instinct?’

  He gave a soft huff of laughter. ‘Yeah, I know the feeling. Sometimes I hate my gut.’

  ‘Don’t hate it. Trust it. I trust mine and it’s giving me grief right now.’

  His mouth kicked up into a fleeting smile. ‘You could be being overcautious.’

  Or not, as it turned out, because when she was back in her consulting room wading through test results, she heard a yell and went out to find Nick on his knees in the corridor, bent over Mr Golding.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. An MI, maybe? We need to move him and repeat the ECG. Oh, hang on. No, no, no, no, don’t do this!’

  She turned back to find Nick had the elderly man’s shirt open and was listening to his chest.

  ‘Anything?’

  He shook his head and started doing chest compressions. ‘No. He’s arrested. Can you call an ambulance?’

  ‘No. Nick, stop.’ She dropped to her knees beside him and covered his hands with her own, stilling them. ‘He’s got a DNAR, remember? He signed it before he went in with Megan. We can’t resuscitate him and I wouldn’t want to. His wife died last year, he’s really struggled without her. He doesn’t want this.’