Neurosurgeon . . . and Mum!. Kate Hardy

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      So many wonderful memories.

      Would they be enough to heal her now?

      There was an envelope with her name on it propped against the biscuit tin in the middle of the kitchen table. Recognising her aunt’s handwriting, Amy opened it.

       Have made a bed for you in your old room.

      In the turret. Fabulous. She’d be overlooking the marshes towards the sea, her favourite view in the world, and the sun would wake her every morning. And maybe here she wouldn’t have the nightmares.

       Tom will introduce himself and Perdy to you at some point.

      So the locum was married? Well, that wasn’t a problem; the house was big enough for them not to get in each other’s way.

       Make sure you eat properly.

      She couldn’t help smiling. The first thing Cassie did to everyone was to feed them. Though Amy knew her aunt had a point; she hadn’t been able to summon up the energy to make a proper meal for months. She’d been living on sandwiches and canteen food, and picking even at those. Maybe the sea air would help to bring back her appetite.

      There was a postscript in Joe’s atrocious handwriting: if she found herself at a loose end, there was a box in his study with some of Joseph Rivers’s casebooks. She might want to take a look through them and put them in some sort of order. There were more in a box in the attic, if she wanted to bring them down.

      Joseph had been the first surgeon in the family, back in the late 1820s; for years both Joe and her father had talked of sorting out his papers and doing something with the casebooks. But her father had been offered a professorship in cardiac surgery in the States and Joe had been busy with his GP practice, so it had never happened. Once or twice Carrie had suggested that maybe the next generation would like to do it but, the last time the subject had been raised, Beth had been busy carving out a career in computing, Joey and Martin had been studying for their finals and Amy had just switched specialties to neurosurgery, which had absorbed every second of her time. And so nothing had ever happened with Joseph’s papers.

      Maybe looking through his papers might help her remember why she’d become a doctor in the first place, Amy thought. Or give her a clue as to where her path led now. Because, right now, she had no idea what was going to happen with the rest of her life. It was like staring into a tunnel without even a pinprick of light at the end. Even thinking about it made her feel as if she were suffocating in blackness. And she felt so very, very alone.

      She lugged her suitcase upstairs to her room and left it at the end of the bed before heading back to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She was halfway through a cup of tea, a sandwich and the cryptic crossword in the newspaper she’d bought on impulse that morning when the front door opened.

      Buster gave a sharp bark to warn her that someone was there, and then a warmer, more welcoming woof, and skidded up the hallway to greet the person who’d just walked in.

      ‘Hey, Buster. Go find your Frisbee and we’ll have ten minutes in the garden.’

      This must be Tom, the locum, Amy thought. He had a nice voice, deep and calm with the slightest trace of a London accent.

      Just as she registered it, he walked into the kitchen. ‘Hello. You must be Amy. I’m Tom Ashby.’

      He was in his early thirties, she’d guess, around her own age; he had a shock of dark wavy hair that he’d brushed back from his forehead, very fair skin, and hazel eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses. His smile was polite enough, but there was a seriousness to him and an intensity that made her wonder what he’d look like if he let himself relax and laughed. Whether his mouth would soften into a sexy grin and his eyes would crinkle at the corners.

      Not that it was any of her business. She already knew that Tom was unavailable; in any case, relationships weren’t her thing. Since the wreckage of her engagement to Colin, ten years before, she’d kept all dates light and very, very casual; she was just fine and dandy on her own.

      ‘Hello.’ Amy shook Tom’s proffered hand. ‘Cassie left me a note. She said you’d introduce yourself and Perdy at some point.’

      ‘Perdy’s at school.’

      So Tom’s wife was a teacher. ‘I see,’ Amy said, giving him a polite smile and hoping that by the time Perdy came home she’d have managed to find a stock of small talk.

      

      Amy Rivers was nothing like Tom had imagined. For a start, she was gorgeous. Too thin, and there was a pallor in her face to go with the bagginess in her clothes that told him she hadn’t been looking after herself properly, but she was still beautiful. Her sea-green eyes reminded him of Joe’s; her dark hair was cut very short and yet managed to be feminine rather than making her look aggressive or butch. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud; it made him want to reach out and trace her lower lip with the tip of his finger.

      Not that he was going to give in to the impulse.

      Apart from the fact that Amy Rivers could already be involved with someone and wouldn’t welcome his advances, there was Perdy to consider. She’d had enough upheaval in her life, and the last year had been seriously rough. She really didn’t need her father forgetting himself and behaving like a teenager. So Tom knew he had to treat Amy just as if she were another colleague, even though they didn’t actually work together. Polite enough to avoid any friction, but distant enough not to get involved. Keep everything to small talk.

      ‘How was your journey?’ he asked politely.

      ‘Fine, thanks. I got stuck behind a tractor three miles out of town, but that’s par for the course around here at this time of year.’ She indicated her mug. ‘The kettle’s hot. Can I get you a coffee or something?’

      ‘That’d be nice. Thanks.’

      ‘How do you like it?’

      ‘Just milk, no sugar, please.’

      She switched the kettle on and shook instant coffee into a mug. ‘So Buster’s suckered you into playing Frisbee with him. Have you taught him to drop it yet?’

      ‘I wish. He normally leaves it under the trees at the bottom of the garden and waits for me to fetch it.’

      ‘You’d never believe his pedigree’s full of field trial champions, would you?’ Amy finished making the coffee and handed the mug to Tom.

      His fingers brushed against hers and desire zinged down his spine.

      Not good. It was the first time he’d felt that pull of attraction since Eloise. Given how badly that had ended, he wasn’t prepared to take a second risk—even if Amy Rivers turned out to be single.

      ‘Cassie says you’re staying for a while,’ he said, deliberately putting the whole length of the table between them. Not that it stopped him noticing her face was heart shaped. Or how fine her fingers were, wrapped around her mug of tea. No ring on her left hand: not that that meant anything nowadays. You didn’t СКАЧАТЬ