A Very Special Surgeon

by Laura MacDonald

  Somehow she got away but from the expression on Natalie’s face she knew the subject was far from closed and would be brought up again at the slightest opportunity. As she drove away she couldn’t help but wonder what her friend would make of the fact that she had invited Tom and his family to lunch the following weekend.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KATE found herself in an agony of indecision as the weekend approached. It had started as far back as Tuesday or Wednesday when she had tried to decide on the nature of the meal they were to have. She had said lunch, but with young, hungry mouths to feed should that be a formal sort of sit-down lunch, maybe a roast with all the trimmings or should she settle for a buffet-style lunch? The latter would certainly be more relaxed and would probably appeal to the children but, on the other hand, would that be what Tom would like? In the end it was a suggestion of Aunt Bessie’s that held the most appeal.

  ‘Given that the weather will last, which according to the long-range forecasts it should, why not set up the old trestle table in the garden under the apple trees?’ she said in her down-to-earth manner. ‘There will easily be enough room to seat everyone and you could serve a hot dish with a selection of salads.’

  ‘Aunt Bessie.’ Kate stared at her. ‘That’s a wonderful idea. I could make lasagne…’

  ‘And I’ll make apple and cherry pies for afters.’

  ‘That would be marvellous, and you will, of course, join us.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Aunt Bessie began dubiously.

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Kate. ‘I want to know what you think of our new friends and, besides, I need you there for moral support.’

  ‘Well, if you put it like that…’

  So that was the food decided and by Friday Kate had also done the shopping and Aunt Bessie had made her pies. All that remained now was the weather and what to wear. In recent times Kate had been given to grabbing the first thing that had come to hand but when, to her relief, Saturday morning dawned with a light mist that hung over the garden and the copse beyond, and with more than a hint of the warmth that was to come, she found herself critically surveying her wardrobe, discarding the white trousers and T-shirt she had planned to wear but wondering frantically what on earth she could wear instead. She had bought hardly any clothes for herself since Liam had died and some of her dresses she’d had for at least four or even five years. Not that Tom would know that, of course, because he wouldn’t have seen her in any of them. Not that that should matter, she told herself firmly. After all, it wasn’t as if this lunch was a date—it was simply the sharing of a family meal, the returning of hospitality.

  In spite of that, she still found herself trying on a couple of dresses and discarding them before settling on an ankle-length, sleeveless dress in a brightly coloured Aztec design which was a perfect contrast to her dark hair. She added some chunky jewellery and was just stepping into a pair of gold sandals when Siobhan stuck her head round the bedroom door.

  ‘Mum…’ she began, then stopped when she caught sight of Kate and stared at her. ‘You haven’t worn that dress for…ages,’ she said.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Kate agreed, hoping that her daughter wasn’t going to start reminiscing over exactly when she had last worn it. She wasn’t sure she could cope with that. Not today. ‘Does it look all right?’ she asked as casually as she could, not wanting Siobhan to know how much effort she had put into her appearance.

  ‘Yes.’ Siobhan nodded. ‘It looks fab. What about this?’ She looked down at her own clothes. ‘Will this be all right? I didn’t know what to wear.’

  Kate’s breath caught in her throat as she realised that her daughter had probably suffered as many agonies as herself, that she was growing up fast and that it was terribly important to her that she also should wear the right thing, especially with Francesca coming and, probably more importantly, Joe. She’d chosen a turquoise peasant-style off-the-shoulder top and a pair of cropped trousers. ‘Yes, darling, you look lovely.’

  ‘I wish my hair wasn’t so wild and curly and so…so…red,’ muttered Siobhan.

  ‘But, darling, that’s you,’ protested Kate. ‘It’s what makes you special…different.’

  ‘I don’t want to be different. Why can’t I have dark hair like you…like Francesca?’ she demanded moodily.

  ‘Because you have Daddy’s colouring, that’s why—aren’t you proud about that?’

  ‘Yes…yes…I s’ppose.’

  ‘Well, there you are, then.’

  ‘But it was different then, when Daddy was here. People could see I was like him, that I had his colour hair. Now it’s just me…and with people who didn’t know Daddy it’s hard to explain…’

  ‘You don’t have to explain anything, darling,’ said Kate gently. ‘Now, we must get on, they’ll be here before we know where we are. Come and help me with the salads.’

  It had a continental feel about it—the long trestle table set up beneath the trees and the slightly unnatural heat they were enjoying, and any anxieties they may have had about the suitability of the arrangements were quickly swept away when Tom arrived with Joe and Francesca and the pleasure on their faces was apparent.

  Tom, in cream chinos and T-shirt, came bearing wine and flowers, some for Kate and some for Aunt Bessie who was immediately captivated by his quiet manner and easy charm. Siobhan and Connor, after only a moment’s shyness, bore Joe and Francesca away to explore the house and the garden.

  ‘This is wonderful,’ said Tom, leaning back in a deck-chair, a glass of wine in his hand. ‘It reminds me of the house I was brought up in. I’m sure if I really listened I could hear the sound of a tennis ball against a racket.’

  ‘We don’t have a tennis court, I’m afraid,’ said Kate with a laugh, ‘but, yes, you’re right, it is a lovely old house.’

  ‘Do you know, Dad,’ said Francesca, her dark eyes dancing with excitement, when Kate called everyone for lunch, ‘they have their very own wood? Down there at the bottom of the garden!’

  ‘It’s just a copse really,’ said Kate, her gaze meeting Tom’s.

  ‘You’ll have to show me later,’ he said.

  For some absurd reason the thought of that, of showing Tom the copse, stayed with her throughout lunch, almost like she’d felt as a child when there had been something exciting to look forward to.

  Lunch was a tremendous success—Kate’s lasagne, served with crusty bread and every conceivable type of salad, followed by Aunt Bessie’s mouth-watering apple and cherry pies and lashings of fresh cream, all washed down with red wine or home-made lemonade.

  Afterwards Aunt Bessie made her excuses and took herself off indoors for a nap while the children disappeared upstairs on their own, leaving Tom and Kate alone.

  ‘I feel lazy now,’ he said, leaning back and linking his hands behind his head.

  ‘So you should,’ she said. ‘It is the weekend after all.’

  ‘That was a wonderful meal,’ he said with a sigh. ‘And as for Aunt Bessie, well, she’s quite simply a treasure, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Kate agreed with a little smile. ‘We are so lucky to have her.’

  They were silent for a while, completely at ease in each other’s company. The only sounds in the garden were the song of a blackbird in the branches of the apple trees above them and the distant hum of a neighbour’s lawnmower. Kate could still hardly believe how comfortable she felt in Tom’s company and how, if anyone had told her only a month or so ago that they would be sitting like this under the apple trees in the garden, she would never have believed them.

  ‘How about,’ Tom said at last, breaking the silence between them, ‘you show me this copse of yours?’

  Her heart leapt. Why, she had no idea save for the fact that this was what had been at the back of her mind ever since he’d mentioned it—what, almost unconsciously, she had been looking forward to.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ she said, she hoped casually, without giving away anything of her feelings, which, w
hen she really examined them, were ridiculous. This, after all, was merely a stroll with a man who, in spite of what they had shared recently, was still her boss. And even if he weren’t, she told herself firmly as they stood up and began to stroll down the crazy paving between the masses of cottage-garden flowers—the marguerites, lavender, delphiniums and hollyhocks—this would be nothing to get excited about. That sort of excitement had gone for her, had died along with Liam and was never likely to be repeated.

  So, if that was the case, what was this she was feeling? This little frisson of anticipation that had remained with her throughout the meal and was still there now as they left the flowers behind and approached the copse, their feet making no sound on the thick, mossy ground.

  It was cool in the copse, the hot sun filtering through the trees and forming dappled patches on the ground.

  ‘Does this really belong to the house?’ asked Tom as they walked side by side. ‘Or is it part of common ground?’

  ‘No,’ Kate replied, ‘it really is part of Copse End. My great-uncle—Aunt Bessie’s late husband—inherited the property from his father. I understand it had been in his family for some years.’

  ‘Well, it really is delightful, and quite unique these days.’

  ‘It’s beautiful in the spring when the bluebells are out,’ said Kate as they paused for a moment and looked around.

  ‘Where did you live before?’ he asked after a while, when they carried on walking.

  ‘In a three-bedroomed semi on the other side of Franchester,’ she replied. ‘It was pleasant and fairly quiet—but nothing like this.’

  They walked on in companionable silence then Tom spoke. ‘We nearly didn’t make it today,’ he said, and Kate had the sudden but distinct impression that he had been struggling to decide whether he should tell her that or not. They had reached the end of the copse by then, and the fence and gate which marked the boundary. They stopped and leaned over the gate, looking out over the adjoining fields of crops.

  ‘Should I ask why?’ she enquired, turning her head to look at him.

  ‘Jennifer,’ he said.

  ‘Ah,’ she replied, then, when he remained silent, continued casually, ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘I suppose there’s not a lot to tell really, but I found it…irritating.’ He was silent again for a long moment, as if by talking about his ex-wife he was somehow breaking the habit of a lifetime. Then, as if once more reaching a decision, he said, ‘It wasn’t really my weekend to have Joe and Francesca, so after your invitation I spoke to Jennifer last Sunday and asked if she would mind them coming to me today.’

  ‘Surely she didn’t object to that?’ Kate stared at him.

  ‘No, of course she didn’t,’ he said quickly, ‘at least not at the time. But then she phoned, late last night actually, and said they had some friends coming today and that she’d particularly like the children there—to meet these friends, she said.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Suddenly Kate was curious.

  ‘I told her that arrangements had already been made and it would be discourteous to change them.’

  ‘Did she accept that?’

  ‘She argued and said surely an excuse could be found. I told her I didn’t want to make an excuse and that I felt sure the children wouldn’t want to either.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘She argued a bit more. She thought I would give in, as I must admit I usually do when it’s anything to do with the children, but this time I didn’t. She hung up on me in the end.’

  ‘Did she bring Joe and Francesca over to you this morning?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘No, I went and picked them up—I didn’t see Jennifer.’

  ‘Did the children say anything?’ Kate bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to have been the cause of any friction for Tom and his children.

  ‘No, not really. They were very quiet actually, although I wasn’t in any doubt that they wanted to come here.’

  They were silent again for a while, watching a tractor in the distance as it trundled across a field. ‘When you first spoke to Jennifer, did you tell her where you wanted to go?’ asked Kate at last.

  ‘No.’ Tom shook his head. ‘I simply said a friend had invited us to lunch, but I gather that in the meantime Francesca had filled her in on the details—which, of course, I quite understand. I have no problem with that.’

  ‘It sounds, though, as if Jennifer did,’ said Kate quietly.

  ‘I can’t see why,’ he began. ‘After all, she has exactly what she wants.’

  ‘She’s a woman,’ said Kate philosophically.

  ‘But she’s known when I’ve taken other women out. In fact, in one case she actually encouraged me to go out with one of her friends…’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded.

  ‘And?’

  ‘It was a complete and utter disaster,’ he admitted. ‘But that’s beside the point. I still don’t see why she had to be difficult over this.’

  ‘I’m an unknown entity,’ said Kate. ‘She doesn’t know I’m simply a colleague of yours. But, quite apart from that, this time her children are involved.’

  ‘They are my children as well,’ said Tom. He turned his head to look at her and added, ‘Is that how you see this?’

  ‘See what?’ Kate frowned.

  ‘This…friendship. Do you see it that we are only colleagues, or keeping it going for the sake of the children?’

  ‘Isn’t that how you see it?’ she asked, and as she spoke she allowed her gaze to meet his.

  ‘At first…perhaps,’ he said. ‘Now I’m not so sure.’ Lifting his hand, he reached out and very gently ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her cheek.

  At his touch Kate froze. This was the first time a man had touched her since Liam, not counting that obnoxious man from Admin whom she’d long chosen to forget, and this was nothing like that. This was gentle, tender even, and stirred the echo of some long-forgotten desire that had lain buried deep inside her.

  There was no telling what might have happened next if they had remained there, alone and undisturbed. Maybe Tom would have drawn her into his arms, maybe he would have kissed her—there was no knowing. Neither was there any knowing what her reaction might have been because at that moment they heard a shout in the copse behind them, followed by the sound of laughter, and seconds later Siobhan and Francesca erupted from the trees.

  ‘Have you seen the boys?’ demanded Siobhan.

  ‘No.’ It was Kate who replied, rather shakily in the event. She hoped her daughter wouldn’t notice anything untoward. ‘Have you lost them?’

  ‘They went off to hide,’ said Francesca breathlessly. ‘They said we wouldn’t be able to find them, we said we would.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Tom, ‘perhaps you’d better keep trying. They certainly haven’t come this way.’

  The girls turned and scurried back the way they had come and Kate and Tom were alone again, but the moment had gone, that moment of magic, which could so easily have turned into one of intimacy, had passed, leaving Kate, at least, feeling a little foolish. ‘We’d better go back,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Tom agreed, and just for a moment Kate thought she detected a note of reluctance in his voice. ‘It’s getting late and I said I’d get Joe and Francesca back to their mother between five and six o’clock.’

  ‘He’s a lovely man,’ said Aunt Bessie. It was much later. Tom, Joe and Francesca had gone, and Kate and Aunt Bessie were clearing up.

  ‘Yes,’ Kate agreed, ‘he is nice and his children are great, too.’

  ‘He seems rather fond of you, Kate,’ Aunt Bessie observed as she wiped down the kitchen worktops.

  ‘We’ve known each other a long time—he’s a good colleague,’ said Kate warily.

  ‘I thought it seemed a bit more than that,’ her aunt replied bluntly. Aunt Bessie was never one for mincing her words.

  ‘No.’ Kate shook her head. �
�It’s nothing like that.’

  ‘I don’t see why not. He’s divorced, isn’t he?’

  ‘Well, yes, although it seems his ex-wife appears a bit reluctant for him to move on in his life.’

  ‘Hasn’t she remarried?’ Aunt Bessie paused and peered at Kate over the top of her glasses.

  ‘Yes, she has.’

  ‘Then she can hardly have any say in what her ex-husband does, can she?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘Whom did she marry?’

  ‘Her childhood sweetheart apparently. Tom says she should have married him in the first place and saved everyone a lot of heartache.’

  ‘He’s probably right,’ said Aunt Bessie grimly. ‘It sounds to me as if she wants to have her cake and eat it. In my experience people like her soon find out that life isn’t like that.’ She paused and the silence was heavy with unspoken words. Then, looking at Kate, she said, ‘Do you not think it might be time for you to move on a bit, Kate?’

  ‘No,’ said Kate quickly, ‘no. I don’t think so, not yet. Liam…’

  ‘Liam is dead, Kate,’ said Aunt Bessie gently. ‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, but it’s a fact. He was your husband and the father of your children and you vowed to love him with all your heart, but you were released from that vow with Liam’s death.’

  ‘I know,’ said Kate, ‘I know…but…’

  ‘You are still young, Kate, and you have the rest of your life before you. I would hate to think you would spend that life alone, and I happen to know for a fact that Liam wouldn’t have wanted you to.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Her eyes swimming with sudden, unshed tears, Kate looked at Aunt Bessie.

  ‘Because he told me so,’ she replied.

  ‘But he couldn’t have known…’

  ‘No, he couldn’t have known he was going to lose his life so tragically and so soon, but he was a policeman, Kate, and he knew it might happen to him. We spoke of it once and he told me that if it did happen while you were still young, he hoped you could find happiness with someone else.’