Her smile faded. ‘I know. My mother did it.’
‘And I suspect that most of the time you were quite unaware of the pressure she was under.’
Helen thought about that for a moment. Had she been? Maybe. Certainly, she’d never been made to feel that she was a burden—any more, she was sure, than Sam was. She settled into a wonderfully comfortable chair opposite Nick, and gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement.
‘You could be right. I never really thought about it before.’ The admission stunned her slightly, but Nick didn’t press the point. Instead, he moved the conversation on and talked about her duties the following day.
‘I wonder if you feel up to taking a surgery in the morning?’ he said. ‘Lawrence is still away, and the locum, of course, is out of the question with his chickenpox, so it would be a real help if you felt you could.’
‘I thought that’s what I was here for?’ she said with a smile.
‘I thought you had to go see the estate agent?’
‘I do, at some point, but it doesn’t have to be the morning. Just so long as I do it some time tomorrow before the auction.’
Nick nodded. ‘In that case, then, we’ll split the morning surgery between us, and I’ll do the house calls. That should give you plenty of time.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll just check the oven,’ he said, and unfolded himself from the chair, his long legs carrying him from the room in a couple of strides.
Helen looked around her. On the shelves at the end there was a group of photographs, and she stood up and went over to them. A younger Nick, with a pretty woman by his side, clearly in love. The same woman, with a new baby in her arms, and again with a toddler. A wedding photograph, in a larger frame, stood at the back of the group. Helen ran a fingertip lightly over the glass, tracing their happy smiling faces. No, not happy—radiant.
So radiant that she felt like a voyeur. She took her hand away, retreating from the evidence of so much love, but it seemed to reach out and follow her.
A great well of sadness and loss rose up inside Helen, and she wondered how Nick could cope without his wife. He had clearly loved her very much. What had happened to her? Had she died? Left him? Surely not the latter. Not with that much love inside them both.
‘That’s Sue,’ Nick said quietly from behind her.
She hoped he’d say more to fill her in, but he didn’t. The silence was gentle, though, without raw emotion, and she turned to him. ‘Where is she now?’
He sighed. ‘She’s dead. She died in an accident—she was knocked down by a car. Sam was nearly three.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Helen murmured. She didn’t know what else to say, so she said nothing. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.
He didn’t. ‘Supper’s ready,’ he said, a little gruffly. ‘Come on through.’
The meal was wonderful. She ate far too much, and although at first she’d been worried that the atmosphere might be a little strained and haunted by Nick’s wife, in fact it didn’t happen. Instead, the conversation flowed easily between them and suddenly it was nearly eleven o’clock and more than time to go.
She’d had three cups of coffee after their dinner, and she felt wide awake, but she knew she had to get up and work in the morning and she wasn’t going to be able to do that unless she got to bed.
‘I must go,’ she said reluctantly.
He nodded. He saw her out to her car and opened the door for her, and as she slid behind the wheel she looked up at him and smiled.
‘Thank you for a wonderful evening.’
‘My pleasure,’ he murmured. For a moment he paused, and for one crazy instant she wondered if he was going to kiss her goodnight, but then he straightened up, gave her a slightly crooked grin and raised his hand in farewell. ‘See you in the morning.’
She nodded, and started the engine, pulling away and turning down the hill towards the surgery. She drove slowly through the quiet little village. Almost all the houses were in darkness, and as she turned into the surgery she was relieved when the outside light came on automatically.
She let herself in through the side door, using the pass key and the code that Nick had given her, and within ten minutes she was ready for bed. She’d do the rest of her unpacking in the morning, she thought, but just for now she wanted to lie quietly and think about her evening with Nick.
But her mind betrayed her, and all she could think about was Nick and Sam, and how they’d lost Sue so suddenly and tragically.
Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? She wasn’t sure, but one thing she was sure of. There was a hole in Nick’s life, a great yawning void, and she wasn’t the woman to fill it.
CHAPTER FOUR
MONDAY morning came all too soon, and there wasn’t any time for Helen to dwell on her relationship with Nick. Not that she really had a relationship with Nick, except her professional one, and that was in full swing by nine o’clock.
He’d arrived at eight, before the reception staff, and had found her in the kitchen, clearing up after her breakfast.
‘You must have heard the kettle boil,’ she said with a smile. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee would be wonderful. How did you sleep?’
‘Fine, thanks.’
He propped himself up against the edge of the worktop, his feet crossed at the ankle, accentuating the length of his legs and the leanness of his hips. She looked away, refusing to indulge herself in the luxury of admiring him.
‘So,’ she said in a carefully neutral voice, ‘which consulting room am I going to have for my surgery?’
‘The locum’s been using the one next to mine, so I suggest you have that,’ he replied. ‘Lawrence has the one on the other side of the corridor. Feel free to move the furniture round if you want.’
‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’ She handed him the mug of coffee, and he wrapped his fingers round it, held it to his nose and sighed deeply.
‘That smells wonderful.’ He shot her a rueful grin. ‘I confess I overslept this morning. Must have been all that Merlot.’
‘Very likely,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘It’s a good job I was driving, or I might have been in the same boat, and you would have come in and found me still in bed.’
He raised an eyebrow just slightly and chuckled. ‘That might have been interesting. Maybe next time.’
Helen tried very hard not to imagine the scene, but her inventive mind was working in overdrive and didn’t want to co-operate. However, she was rescued from any further potentially embarrassing speculation by the arrival of the receptionist.
The woman bustled into the room, stopped dead in her tracks and stared blankly at Helen.
‘Julia!’ Nick said with a welcoming grin. ‘Just the woman. I’d like you to meet Dr Helen Moore, who’s coming to join us in the practice—correction, has come to join us in the practice.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘I’ve managed to twist her arm and persuaded her to start work this morning. She’s sleeping in our on-call room until she’s made further arrangements for her accommodation.’
Julia’s eyes swung from Nick back to Helen. ‘Oh! Right. Well, welcome to the practice, Helen. Let’s hope you don’t regret it. Just make sure Nick doesn’t work you to death.’
‘On a part-time contract? I think I’ll probably survive.’ She smiled at Julia and held out her hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
Julia shook her hand and returned the smile. ‘Has he shown you round? The usual trick is to throw new people in at the deep end and expect them to cope, but if you’ve got any questions, just come and ask me.’
‘Thanks. I’ll remember that. You might regret making the offer by the end of the morning, though.’
Julia chuckled. ‘I doubt it. Anything that takes the pressure off Nick is bound to improve our working conditions. He gets like a bear with a sore head.’
‘If you two are just going to talk about me, I think I’ll go and get on with my work. God knows, I’ve got enough to do.’
He straightened up, winked at Helen and left the room, leaving Helen and Julia alone to talk about the practice routine, and giving Julia a chance to fill Helen in with all the things she would need to know.
‘Right,’ Julia said after a while, ‘if that’s everything, I need to go and get the phone, and you probably need to look through the notes for your morning surgery.’
Thus dismissed, Helen made her way into the room that was to be hers, sat down in front of the desk and blew out her breath in a long gust. Well, she’d done it. Found a part-time job, started work—well, almost started—and hopefully found a house. Not bad for three days’ work. A few minutes later, right on the dot of eight-thirty, she pressed the bell to call her first patient through.
Well, that wasn’t too bad, she thought. Of course, until this morning the patients had had no idea that there was a new doctor, and so everybody who’d come in was genuinely ill. Helen knew that once word got around, people would come just to see the new doctor, but until then hopefully she would get only genuine cases, as she had this morning.
Like Mrs Maitland, who’d been concerned about a breast lump, and Mr Jones who’d come back for a check on his BP following a change of medication.
She’d been able to reassure both of them, but it had been less easy to reassure the last patient, an elegant, articulate woman in her sixties. There hadn’t seemed to be anything wrong with her, but according to her notes she was a continual visitor, and she seemed to be convinced that she was dying. Nothing Helen had said had made any difference, and the woman had clearly been angling for a referral to a hospital consultant. The trouble was, the only consultant she could justify referring her to was a psychiatrist, and she didn’t think that that was exactly what Mrs Emery was after.
She spoke to Nick about it afterwards in the office, and he sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
‘Ah, yes, Mrs Emery. I wondered what you’d make of her. What was it this time? Chest pain? Abdominal pain?’
‘Headache, actually. I didn’t really know what to do, so I ran a few neurological tests and sent her home. She’s got to come back next week if it’s no better. I told her to take paracetamol once a day.’
‘I think the poor woman’s problem, really, is that she’s just terribly lonely,’ Nick said. ‘In the good old days, she would have had her family all around her to reassure her that there was nothing wrong, and probably a grandmother or two to look after to occupy her time. As it is, she’s got nothing to do, she’s a comparatively young widow with plenty of money, and she’s basically bored stiff. Maybe we ought to tell her to get a job.’
‘Perhaps you could offer her one,’ Julia said. ‘She could give me a hand. Heaven knows, we’re busy enough.’
‘What, and expose her to all those potential ailments? Not a chance,’ Nick said with a laugh. ‘As you’re so busy, I don’t suppose you’ve had time to make the coffee, have you?’
Julia rolled her eyes. ‘Of course. I never neglect the important things. I was going to bring it through, but you’ve rattled through your patients so quickly this morning I didn’t have time.’
‘Wonderful, isn’t it? I could get used to this. Any word from Lawrence yet?’
Julia shook her head. ‘No, not since Friday. I expect he’ll ring later on. You’d better have your coffee quickly, Nick,’ she added, ‘because you’ve got quite a few calls to make, and you’ve got a great stack of admin left over from last week.’
‘When haven’t I?’ Nick said with a groan.
He headed for the kitchen, and Julia and Helen shared a smile. ‘He never did like the admin,’ Julia said with a chuckle. ‘Lawrence usually deals with it but, of course, while he’s away it falls to Nick.’
‘Poor Nick. I hate admin, too, so I can sympathise. One of the joys, I suppose, of a part-time job. I don’t expect I’ll have to do very much.’
Julia laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it. I expect they’ll foist it off on you just as fast as they can.’ She cocked her head on one side. ‘Nick tells me you’re hoping to buy Mrs Smith’s cottage.’
‘I am. And that reminds me, thank you, I have to phone the estate agent and make an appointment to go in and see him this afternoon. I gather they’d had a survey done.’
‘Have they? Probably a good idea. Goodness only knows when any work was last done on it. She was in a bad way, poor old duck. It was a blessing, really, when she died. Of course, if it hadn’t been for Nick she would have died there all on her own, but he got her into hospital so she died at least clean and comfortable with her family around her. He was wonderful to her.’
Helen could imagine that. Even from their brief acquaintance, she could tell that Nick had a kind streak about a mile wide, which was probably why Mrs Emery kept coming back to see him. Most doctors would have told her to take a hike, except for the fear of litigation, but she knew that Nick would listen to her, and so she kept on coming back. Maybe he was right, maybe she did just need a job. When she came back next week, which she surely would, Helen would have a little chat to her about her lifestyle and see how amenable she was to suggestion.
In the meantime, she needed to phone the estate agent and sort out her accommodation, or she’d be living in the on-call room for the rest of her contract!
The cottage looked scruffier than she remembered. Of course, she didn’t have Nick with her to distract her, or point out the good features. That probably made a difference, and also the fact that in her hand she had a copy of the survey which showed an inordinate amount of work to be done. Nothing very expensive, but a relentless list of things she’d have to tackle one after the other. Some of the window frames, a part of the roof, repointing on a small back wall, as well as all the plumbing and electrics which she’d expected.
Still, she loved it, and the garden was, if anything, even more beautiful. She wandered down to the end and looked over the fence, and she realised that she could see the window in the tree-house. Sam would be able to watch her while she worked on the garden, and she’d be able to wave to him—and, coincidentally, keep an eye on him. Not that she thought Nick didn’t keep an eye on him properly, but where the tree-house was situated, it was just out of Nick’s range of vision.
This all assumed, of course, that she actually managed to outbid everyone else for the house. The survey felt heavy in her hand, not only because of the weight of the paper but also the weight of the contents. Taking on a project of this magnitude on your own was somehow far more daunting than sharing it with a partner, but she didn’t have the luxury of a partner and she wasn’t going to. She went back into the kitchen and looked around it.
The one good point was that it had an Aga. There were lots of bad points—the units, the sink, the dripping tap, the uneven floor—the list was almost endless. Nevertheless, it looked out over the garden, it was big enough to have a table in it, and there was a huge range of kitchen units available very reasonably from any number of shops.
Nothing was impossible, she reminded herself. She could do it. Even on her own, she could do it.
And maybe if she told herself that enough times, she’d believe it.
With a heavy sigh Helen left the house, locked the door behind her and drove back to the estate agent to return the key. Then, without any further prevarication, she signed the necessary documentation that would enable her to bid at the auction.
As she turned into the surgery car park Nick was just leaving, and he paused and smiled at her.
‘All set for the auction?’ he asked.
‘Well, I don’t know about set. I’m scared to death, actually. I’ve just been round there again, and it looked much worse today.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he said comfortingly. ‘If there’s anything you can’t manage, I’ll give you a hand, if you like.’
‘Really?’ She stared at him in amazement. ‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘Why not?’ he said with a shrug. ‘After all…’ he smiled ‘…we’ll be neighbours.’
‘You must be crazy,’ she said. ‘I’ve been hearing about how good you were to Mrs Smith. You really, really don’t want to start waiting hand and foot on her successor.’
He tapped her on the end of her nose with a blunt forefinger. ‘Let me be the judge of that. What are you doing now?’
Helen shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I thought I’d have a cup of tea, and then maybe after the auction drive around and get to know the village a little, perhaps have supper in the pub? I haven’t really planned it.’
‘You could join me for supper,’ Nick said. ‘It won’t be anything special, but you’re more than welcome. You can tell me all about the auction.’
‘What about Sam? Won’t he mind me coming round again?’
‘He has homework on Monday night. Reading or something like that. He’ll be fine. It was only on Friday that he wanted my undivided attention. He’s got his wretched tree-house now, so maybe I’ll get a bit of peace for a few days. Who knows?’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, it’s up to you. I eat at about seven during the week, but if you’re going to come I’ll wait.’
‘I don’t suppose you could keep me company at the auction, could you?’ she asked, feeling another flutter of nerves.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe. I’ll ring my parents and see if they can hang onto Sam, and I’ll call you here if there’s a problem. The auction’s only in the village pub, so we could walk.’
He slid behind the wheel of his car, raised a hand in farewell and drove out of the car park, leaving her in suspense. Part of her wanted him to come, but the other part, the part with self-discipline, thought she ought to go to the pub on her own and keep out of their lives.
She knew what she ought to do. Still, having Nick with her would be a great support, and maybe there’d be time for him to run through the survey before the sale. Then if there was anything in there that she’d overlooked, maybe Nick would be able to help find it before it was too late.
At ten to six, chastising herself for her weakness, Helen turned onto Nick’s drive and parked her car. The front door was open, and she called out as she entered.
A Very Single Woman Page 5