A Summer Wedding At Willowmere. Abigail Gordon

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      CHAPTER TWO

      WHEN Laurel awoke the next morning she found herself looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling dappled by a summer sun and for the first few seconds couldn’t think where she was, but not for long.

      She was in Elaine’s quiet backwater, she thought, with birdsong the only sound breaking the silence. Recalling how she’d asked her aunt what they did for fun in Willowmere, she wondered why she’d brought up the subject. That kind of thing wasn’t going to be on her agenda with a broken engagement behind her and some unappealing scarring.

      But now here she was and glad of it in spite of her lack of enthusiasm for country life. As sleep had stolen over her the night before she’d vowed she was going to make an effort to fit in and if she got the job at the surgery at least she wouldn’t be moping around all day.

      ‘Does anyone in Willowmere know what happened to me?’ Laurel asked of Elaine as they ate a leisurely breakfast out on the sunny patio.

      Her aunt shook her head. ‘No. At the time I was too distressed to talk about it, my beautiful niece caught up in the stupidity of others, and if anyone around here saw it in the papers they wouldn’t see any connection.

      ‘Right from the start I’ve felt it would be an invasion of your privacy to discuss you with others even though I’ve been bursting with pride every time I thought of what you did. But as far as I’m concerned, that is how it will stay, Laurel. If you should want to tell anyone, that is a different matter.

      ‘And now what would you like to do today? If you’re not over the moon with our lovely village we can go into the town and shop if you like, but I would rather we saved that sort of thing for when you’ve had some rest and relaxation, which could be in short supply when you’re working at the surgery.’

      ‘You mean if I’m working there. I’m not exactly spectacular at the moment with a gammy knee that sometimes lets me down and hair that looks as if it’s been cut with a knife and fork.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Elaine soothed gently. ‘Your hair is growing back nicely and you’re beautiful with your green eyes and lovely, curvy mouth.’

      ‘And my rough red hands,’ Laurel reminded her with dry humour. ‘I wear the gloves all the time so that I won’t be mistaken for a domestic drudge.’

      ‘Get away with you,’ was the response. ‘People around here are very kind and if they knew how you’d got the scarring they would acclaim your courage and dedication to the job. But, as I’ve just said, that is entirely your affair, and as to how we are going to spend your first day away from London, what is it to be, the town or the village?’

      ‘The village, I think,’ Laurel replied. She would have preferred to go shopping but she knew how much Elaine wanted to show her Willowmere and they could always shop another day.

      ‘So how about a leisurely stroll and then we’ll have lunch at the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms? It may not be as upmarket as the places where you usually eat, but they won’t be able to beat the food that Emma and her husband serve to their customers.

      ‘Then if you like I’ll take you to the surgery and introduce you to James. He will want to arrange a time to interview you. Beth Jackson, who is leaving, wants to go as soon as possible. She and her husband are opening a business next to the post office and if you feel the need, by all means wear the gloves, though I do think that you have no call to be so self-conscious about your hands.’

      Laurel wasn’t sure about visiting the surgery. ‘Don’t you think that David Trelawney might feel that since arriving here I’ve been continually in his line of vision?’ she said dubiously. ‘At the station, in the garden, when he was driving past on his way to house calls, and at sunset last night.’

      ‘He’ll be seeing much more of you than that if you’re working at the same place,’ Elaine said laughingly. ‘And how do you know he won’t feel that he can’t get too much of a good thing?’

      Laurel couldn’t bring herself to share in Elaine’s amusement. How long, if ever, was it going to be before she felt desirable once more? Each time Darius had visited her in hospital it had been clear that he wasn’t keen on the damaged version, and as she’d fought her way through the pain it had been with her confidence at a very low ebb.

      As they walked along the main street Elaine was greeted by everyone they met and Laurel was aware that some curious glances were coming her way, which was not surprising as she was wearing a high-necked sweater, a hat and gloves on a hot summer day.

      This is so different from city life, she was thinking as she took in the friendliness of the people. She and her fellow nurses had often commented that in London people were always rushing about, and getting to know one’s next-door neighbour was a rare event, but in Willowmere life seemed to be lived at a slower pace, as if each moment was to be cherished rather than passed quickly by.

      It had always been Elaine who had been her visitor before this, staying at the apartment and enjoying every moment with the niece that she loved like a daughter, but now it was Laurel’s turn to leave her natural habitat for a while.

      And now here she was, happy to be with the one person who loved her unconditionally, yet feeling totally out of her depth amongst quaint limestone cottages and shops that had an individuality all their own.

      ‘We passed the surgery last night if you remember,’ Elaine said, indicating a large stone building across the way from where they’d just had an excellent lunch. Noting Laurel’s lack of enthusiasm, she added, ‘Are you sure you want to meet the people who work there?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ she said with assumed heartiness, deciding that she may as well get it over with. At least it was only a place for local people with their ailments. There would be no rows of beds or doctors with sombre expressions looking down at her, and nurses treating one of their own with sympathy and efficiency.

      She’d been introduced to the two receptionists, both of them middle-aged, pleasant and organised, met the two practice nurses and discovered that it was a delicatessen that Beth Jackson and her husband were going to open very soon at the other end of the main street.

      At that moment the door of the nearest consulting room opened and an attractive, dark-haired woman was framed there, holding a baby in her arms. The doctor she’d been consulting was close behind and as she was about to leave he bent and kissed her tenderly.

      Laurel’s СКАЧАТЬ