Patrick toyed with his coffee spoon, watching Jandy go out of the canteen, the light catching her burnished hair, now done up in a neat coil at the back of her head. He’d only known her a week or two, and yet he was beginning to feel he’d known her for many months. They had much in common, and perhaps they could have helped each other heal the wounds they had from the past—but he wasn’t ready to commit to anyone yet.
He sighed heavily. If he didn’t put the brakes on things, his relationship with Jandy might turn into a rerun of what had happened in London in the months after Rachel had died.
Gazing unseeingly across the table, the ghastly loneliness of that time came flooding back to him, and how easily he’d hurtled into a relationship with someone he’d known only briefly. He’d been vulnerable, hating the thought of being alone, feeling deeply guilty that he had caused his wife’s death. Tara had been a shoulder to cry on, deeply sympathetic, limpet-like in her determination not to leave him alone. By the time he had realised he was only desirable to her because of his family background, and that she had absolutely no interest in his little daughter, indeed was irritated by her, it had been almost too late to extricate himself from the engagement he’d been coerced into.
He didn’t think that Jandy was the type of girl to be impressed because of who he was—it might even be the reverse. But the fact remained that they were two people with unhappy pasts and he couldn’t bear to make another mistake like that, or saddle someone like Jandy with his problems. Was it fair of him to get too close to someone who had been hurt so much already?
He pushed his fingers through his hair distractedly. Why the hell had he mentioned the empty house to Jandy? But now he couldn’t in all conscience renege on his offer. He’d promised her she could have the place if she liked it and, besides, now he realised how desperate she was for somewhere reasonable to live. For the sake of her child, he had to keep the offer open—but for the sake of Jandy and himself, he had to stand back a little and not do anything that might bring them into close contact outside the hospital.
Then the beeper in his pocket went off and he stood up and walked briskly back to A and E, trying to push his frustration to the back of his mind.
* * *
Saturday morning at last! Jandy helped Abigail put on her little jeans and sweater and brushed her daughter’s hair briskly.
‘Ow! Stop it, Mummy—I don’t need my hair brushed. Ow!’
‘Nearly done! There—you look beautiful! We’re going to meet another little girl this morning so you want to look good, don’t you?’
Abigail looked at her mother witheringly. ‘No, I don’t! Who is she anyway?’
‘I work with her daddy and we’re going to look around a house he knows that’s for rent—it might be OK for us. It’s in the country.’
Abigail perked up. ‘I like the country. We could have horses and dogs and cats and—’
‘Whoa!’ Jandy laughed. ‘Wherever we live we can’t have animals—we’re all out too much. And, of course, the house may not suit us, or it may be too expensive. We’ll see.’
It had been a busy week as usual, but every so often in the middle of dressing a wound or calming a screaming child, the thought of her meeting Patrick to see the cottage would flash into her mind and her pulse would bound into excitement. How sad it was that in her dull life meeting someone to look at a house seemed exhilarating!
They got into the car and she drove off towards the cottage.
There was the smell of damp leaves and earth newly turned after the harvest as they got out of the car in the little lane outside the cottage. A little tremor of pleasure darted through Jandy as she gazed at the building. It was quaint, with leaded-paned windows and old tree trunks holding up the roof of the little porch; an old rose twined its way randomly round the front door, a few dying blooms still there. She could easily imagine herself living here, surrounded by fields and the view of the soft Derbyshire hills.
She was surprised to see that the cottage was actually an old gatehouse at the back entrance of an estate, although the drive had long been blocked off and the property stood in its own garden. It was just possible to see a large and imposing mansion through the woods that grew beyond the garden, mullioned windows glittering in the sun. The little village was just down the road, and although it was about six miles from Delford, it would be possible to get to work on time if she got up early. There was even a little village school that Abigail could attend when she was old enough. She turned to Abigail, who was standing at the gate of the field watching the sheep grazing there.
‘Come on, poppet, let’s go into the garden and wait for Patrick there. He should be here in a minute.’
Jandy looked around with pleasure. So far, so good. There was a neat little garden with room enough to play but not so huge that she’d have to spend every weekend gardening. She turned round as she heard a car stopping outside the gate and Patrick and his daughter arrived. If Tilly could see him now, she’d probably be speechless, reflected Jandy as she watched him walk towards her. Casual suited Patrick—dark cords and a thick cream Arran sweater with an old scarf round his neck made him look rugged and—no getting away from it—very sexy!
The little girl by his side had auburn hair springing round her head like a halo, and looked very like the photograph of her mother that Jandy had seen.
‘And I guess this is Livy?’ Jandy said, smiling down at the child. ‘Meet my little girl, Abigail—you’re both the same age.’
The two children stared at each other cautiously then Patrick took out a key and opened the front door.
‘In you go, girls—see what you think and then tell us!’
Jandy watched the children run inside and smiled at Patrick. ‘What a beautiful little girl Livy is—she looks so much like her mother in the photo I saw.’
‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘She’s the image of Rachel—every time I see her I’m reminded of her mother.’
The sadness in his voice revealed a lot, thought Jandy. It wasn’t that she didn’t expect him to still feel deeply about Rachel, but it seemed clear to her that Patrick’s allegiance still belonged in the past to a wife who had died.
‘Right!’ she said brightly, stepping into the front room. ‘I hope Abigail doesn’t fall too heavily for the house because it may be way above my budget.’
He nodded. ‘I have been wondering if it’s suitable after all. It’s in a bit of a mess and the bedrooms are very small.’
‘Ah, well, a lick of paint does wonders for a place, doesn’t it?’
The front door led straight into a little front room with wallpaper hanging in strips from the walls and plaster from the ceiling in little heaps on the floor. But it was cosy with a pretty bay window that let in the light and through which there was a wonderful view. Jandy could just imagine herself sitting in that bay, basking in the warmth of the sun. She turned to Patrick.
‘So far I love it,’ she said, with a delighted smile.
He frowned slightly. ‘You do? Better reserve judgement until you’ve seen upstairs.’
Abigail and Livy were running in and out of the two small bedrooms with lots of giggles, hiding in a cupboard on the landing and jumping out—they had obviously made friends with each other.
‘Look, Mummy, I can have this room—it’s got a little mouse’s nest by the fireplace. Isn’t that sweet?’ cried Abigail, taking her mother’s hand and dragging her round the room.
‘I think he’d be happier living in the field where he came from,’ said Jandy firmly. ‘Anyway, you and I will have the bigger room and Lydia will have that room as there’s only one of her. And actually we haven’t decided to have it yet.’
‘No—you don’t want to make a hasty decision,’ put in Patrick quickly. ‘There are disadvantages to living out in the country.’
Jandy flicked a look at his face—there was something uneasy about his expression. Suddenly she guessed that he was regretting mentioning the house to her. He certainly sounded very
negative all of a sudden about the whole thing. She wasn’t about to be put off, whatever he thought.
‘There are drawbacks about living in Delford too,’ she pointed out. ‘The traffic, the noise, the crime…it could be a wonderful move to leave that behind.’
He nodded sombrely. ‘That’s true. But you live with your sister—won’t she want to look at it too?’
‘Oh, I assure you Lydia will like anything I like. We generally have very similar tastes—except when it comes to spending money! Anyway, she’s away with her job quite a bit and she’s happy to leave it all to me.’
Abigail came running back to Jandy and looked up at her pleadingly. ‘I love it here—please let’s live here. I could have a rabbit. Livy says she’d look after it for me, and she only lives just up the road—we’re neighbours!’
‘Oh, I see…’ Jandy turned to Patrick with surprise. ‘I didn’t realise you lived so close by.’
‘I’m not all that far away,’ he admitted. Again that dismissive tone of voice, keeping her at a distance.
Jandy felt a flash of irritation. Why couldn’t the man say just exactly where he lived—what was the mystery? Well, she wasn’t going to be put off renting a place that he had suggested so enthusiastically a short time ago, just because he was having cold feet.
‘I do like the place,’ she said decisively. ‘Perhaps we could discuss terms and conditions and if they’re OK then I’d like to go ahead.’
‘Right,’ said Patrick heavily. ‘Come downstairs and I’ll go over it with you.’
It didn’t take long to discuss and Jandy readily agreed the rent. In all conscience, Patrick had to quote the market price for the property, although he’d been tempted to ask more than he thought Jandy could afford in the hope that she wouldn’t take it. However much he longed to get closer to her, he was in no position to jump into a relationship at the moment.
He looked at her profile as she read the agreement for the rent of the house, and noted the endearing habit she had of biting her bottom lip when she was concentrating on something. God, he thought wistfully, she was beautiful and completely unconscious of her looks. Her sherry-coloured eyes were warm and sparkled when she was animated, and her hair, usually tied back at work, fell like a golden bell against her neck, brushing against the collar of her blouse.
How was he going to avoid seeing her when she was going to be living so close to him—or stop himself from coming round to see how she was? It would be very easy to get entangled in her life. He’d just have to be disciplined, he thought grimly. Keep work and home separate.
She looked up at him with those wide brown eyes, and smiled happily. ‘I know my sister will love this place as much as I do—and I can’t wait to move in!’
‘Then I hope you’ll be very happy here,’ he said rather stiffly.
‘And when we’re straight, you must come and have a meal with us to celebrate,’ Jandy said pleasantly.
He longed to say how much he’d enjoy that but felt he had to backpedal, keep his distance, and not show too much enthusiasm.
‘Some time perhaps, but I’ve a very full schedule at the moment.’
He sounded dismissive of her well-meant invitation and Jandy felt a sting of resentment. She certainly wouldn’t ask him again!
He turned round quickly, almost relieved as the two little girls clattered into the room. ‘Right, Livy, off we go! I’ve a million things to do this morning!’
‘Oh, Daddy, can’t Abigail come and play with me? I could show her my pony.’
Both children looked hopefully up at him, but he shook his head and said peremptorily, ‘Sorry, not today—it’s completely out of the question. We’ll see Abigail soon perhaps. Come on, now!’
His voice was curt, and Livy’s lips turned down at his sharp tone, but Patrick took her hand and led her firmly out to the car, and in a few seconds he’d accelerated off down the road, with the barest of goodbyes. He looked in the mirror as he drove off and could see Jandy staring after him, an expression of surprise on her face, and groaned. He must have sounded rude. It saddened him to hurt her, but surely he was right to stand back a little, put on the brakes? He had too many issues to deal with—not only his sensitivity about his background but about his life back in Delford.
He changed gear roughly so that the car jolted. How simple life would have been without the ties of Easterleigh and his family!
‘I like Abigail, Daddy—and I like Jandy. Can they come and see us soon…please? They’re nice, aren’t they?’ piped up Livy’s little voice from the back of the car.
‘Very nice, darling,’ said Patrick heavily. ‘Perhaps in a few weeks when they’ve settled in.’
* * *
Jandy frowned in bewilderment as she watched the car disappear round the corner. What on earth had she done wrong that he should leave so abruptly? It had been his idea to show her the cottage, yet suddenly he seemed to be backpedalling as if he wanted as little to do with her as possible. There was no mistaking his churlish manner. Perhaps, she thought sadly, he didn’t seem quite such a nice guy after all. Perhaps her sordid little tale about Abigail’s father had put him off in some way.
Abigail started to cry. ‘Why couldn’t I go with Livy? It’s not fair! I want to see her pony. Why wouldn’t her daddy let her?’
Why wouldn’t he indeed? Jandy closed the garden gate and opened the car door for Abigail to get in. Even though she realised his wife still held a treasured place in his heart, Jandy was as sure as anything that there had been a mutual attraction between Patrick and her. Surely it hadn’t been all in her imagination?
It was a warning for her not to assume anything, she reflected bitterly as she clicked Abigail’s car seat belt into place. He wasn’t the affable man he seemed to be—that was for sure. She should steer well clear of him. The light-heartedness she’d felt over the past weeks since she’d met Patrick began to evaporate.
‘When we live here, Mummy, can Livy come and play again?’ Abigail pleaded.
‘Perhaps, Abigail—we’ll have to see,’ sighed Jandy, glancing in her mirror and moving off slowly down the road.
Blast the man. His attitude seemed to have dampened her excitement in finding a lovely place at the right price. Then she shrugged. She damn well wasn’t going to be down-hearted. His manner was inexplicable, but she’d get over it. She’d had enough of moody men and their hang-ups.
‘Don’t worry, Abigail,’ she reassured her little daughter. ‘We’re going to have lots of fun in our new little home!’
CHAPTER FIVE
A FEW days later Jandy switched on the TV and flopped back on the sofa. The news was on, with the usual catalogue of financial disaster and celebrity mishaps. She let it wash over her, allowing herself to relax after a busy week of trying to get rid of some of the junk she didn’t need when she moved, culminating in a very tough day at the hospital.
A terrible road crash involving a coach party of pensioners on the motorway had resulted in two fatalities and multiple serious injuries and had occupied all the staff in A and E for many hours. Most of the people involved would feel the effects for the rest of their lives. Of course, that was the nature of the job, but no matter how experienced you were it was hard not to get involved emotionally and block out the graphic pictures of terrible wounds and grief that dominated that kind of scenario—it remained with you for a long time. She took a deep draught of the glass of chilled Bordeaux she had in her hand, welcoming the anaesthetising effect after a traumatic few hours.
Jandy’s thoughts drifted back over the day and inevitably to Patrick. There was no doubt about it. Since he had left so abruptly from the cottage he was less than forthcoming—quite distant, in fact, although they hadn’t been working together all the time and there hadn’t been many opportunities for chat. Today he’d been part of the team looking after the crash victims, not only with the practical elements of trying to resuscitate a dying man but he’d also had to tell the weeping daughter that her father had died. He had
done it with compassionate and gentle understanding that had belied his tough exterior.
But she couldn’t help puzzling over Patrick’s change of attitude. He had seemed so sympathetic, so understanding, so comforting when she’d told him that she was a single parent. He understood only too well what it was to lose love. Then that warmth had evaporated like mist on a warm day after she’d divulged the full story of Terry’s betrayal to him over coffee. She’d tried to put the whole episode out of her mind—but it hurt, no doubt about that.
Bleakly she took another sip of wine and stared blankly at the screen, lost in her thoughts, vaguely aware that the programme was now the local news. An elderly, rather frail man in a wheelchair was being interviewed by a young woman, and they were standing in front of a large mansion with golden stone and red Virginia creeper winding its way over the walls. Jandy recognised it immediately as the stunning house she had seen through the trees behind the little cottage the other day, and she turned up the volume, interested to hear what was being said about what was, in effect, her neighbour’s property.
‘Further to our programme on green issues, we are now at Easterleigh House, the magnificent 16th-century home of Viscount Duncan,’ said the reporter. She turned to the old man. ‘My Lord, you and your son are planning to develop a wind farm on the hills at the edge of your estate. Aren’t you worried about the impact of the beautiful views across the countryside—views that have remained the same for centuries?’
‘I don’t think their impact on the view will be too detrimental, and the fact is that the house and estate needs a great deal of renovation, and we need the income,’ replied Viscount Duncan.
‘That’s an enormous project,’ remarked the interviewer.
The old man smiled, and for a moment he reminded Jandy of someone—but she couldn’t put her finger on who it was. ‘I’m lucky that my son has come home to oversee everything. He’s got much more energy than I have! I want to save the place for future generations, and to continue to give employment to people whose families have worked on the farm and land for many years.’
From Single Mum to Lady Page 7
