And then she saw it.
Freya wasn’t really one for efficient dusting, and she’d never taken the photos down until now.
But there it was.
A black and white picture of him, cut out on paper. And she wished, how she wished it was colour—because one day soon she might not remember the details of his eyes. Or the way he said her name—the change in his voice—so subtle at times that no one else would notice—that made her his lover and was audible only to her.
This is what you’ve lost, Freya.
And then her phone rang and the world suddenly felt better.
‘Hello, Aunty Freya.’
Freya could hear the rise of elation in her friend’s voice. ‘Alison?’
‘It’s a girl—a little girl—four weeks early, but everything’s fine. She’s not even an hour old yet...’
There was a waver in her voice and Freya closed her eyes as elation dimmed and Alison dipped into the valley of pain.
‘She looks like her brother.’
And then, for the first time since that awful day, Freya knew what to say. If his sister looked like Andrew then it was certainly true. ‘She must be perfect, then.’
For Andrew had been. Utterly, utterly perfect. From his soft brown hair down to his tiny toes.
And Freya had been so busy taking care of her friend, helping her through, that she’d somehow stuffed down her own grief.
It had been such a gut-wrenching loss. For Alison and Callum and their families, and for their friends and all who loved them too.
It was sometimes said that it took a village to raise a child.
Well, Cromayr Bay had mourned when Alison and Callum had lost theirs. He had been one of their own.
‘When can you come and see her?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Freya said. ‘I have to go in tomorrow, but I’ll see if I can swap over the next couple of days. I’ll call you in the morning. Go and enjoy...?’
‘Eleanor,’ Alison said.
It was hard to cry herself to sleep after such wonderful news, and Callum had been sending over pictures and, yes, Eleanor was utterly, utterly perfect.
But just after midnight Freya lay back on her pillow and sobbed.
* * *
Morning arrived and she woke with Richard’s picture in the bed beside her. Before she headed for work she took a photo of it with her phone.
At work, she made a beeline for Stella.
‘I hate to do this,’ Freya said, ‘but my friend just had her baby and Kelly has said that she’ll swap with me. I’ll work the weekend.’
‘You haven’t carried the Obstetric Squad pager yet, though,’ Stella said, and then looked through the roster. ‘It’s okay—Pat’s on, so she can do it. You need two more times observing and then Dr Mina needs to supervise you heading one.’
Freya nodded.
‘What did she have?’
‘A little girl—Eleanor.’
‘Gorgeous,’ Stella said.
Richard was coming out of ICU when Freya saw him. He was with Dominic.
‘Hi.’ Freya smiled.
‘Freya,’ he said as he passed. But a few steps on he excused himself and caught up with her. ‘Are you free tomorrow?’
‘I haven’t got the energy to be used,’ Freya admitted—because really she was terrible at flings.
When he was present she could forget for a while the hurt that awaited when he left. But when they were apart it was hell.
‘I just wondered if you’d like to go to dinner.’
So you can tell me you’re leaving?
She guessed it was for that.
A bastard he might be, to some, but she liked him—very much indeed—and perhaps he considered a hospital corridor with his registrar waiting not the ideal place for a goodbye.
‘I can’t,’ Freya said. ‘I’m away home after my shift. I’m getting the overnight train. Alison had her baby late last night.’
‘You’ll be wrecked. What time does your train get in?’
‘Seven—though I’ll hang around at Waverley for the shops to open and then I am buying up pink.’
‘So a little girl?’
‘Eleanor.’ Freya nodded. ‘Then later we’ll all be over to the Tavern to wet the baby’s head.’
‘Well...enjoy.’
Of course there were no offers from Richard to drive her this time, and she had an awful feeling this might be the last time she would see him.
He gave her a nice smile and then, because he was Richard, no conversation lasted very long without the interruption of his phone or pager.
This time it was the phone. ‘My mother,’ he said and pocketed it. ‘I’ll call her back in a moment.’
‘How is she?’
‘Well, she’s found an apartment that isn’t mine, so that’s good. I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I think that I misjudged her...’
And he left it at that.
Yet she desperately wanted to know more.
There was just so much to talk about—so much of each other to explore and to know.
And she had blown it, Freya knew.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHEN SHE GOT to Waverley Freya drank coffee and ate almond croissants until the shops opened, and then went on a little frenzy of buying pink.
Then she took the train to Cromayr Bay. And as she crossed the bridge she gazed out over her home.
Home?
Yet London was also home.
Freya had never felt more confused in her life.
* * *
Visiting Alison was brilliant—to see her holding the tiny bundle and to know that they were both healthy and thriving, even though she might be struggling more than most new mothers today, was wonderful.
Callum went for a walk, and to meet some aunties who were arriving, and Freya had her first hold.
Oh, the baby was so soft and pink, and she had beautiful little eyes and a pretty snub nose. And when Freya put her finger to Eleanor’s hand little fingers closed around it.
‘She’s gorgeous—and she really does look like...’ Freya hesitated and then made herself say his name. ‘Andrew.’
Oh, grief was so hard when it was personal. At work she could do it, but here, sitting on the bed, it wasn’t just Alison she was scared of hurting.
It was herself.
Richard, damn him, had been right again. She was grieving too. Because right about now she should be taking Andrew down to the café to give Alison and Callum a break.
And as she gazed down at Eleanor a tear splashed down Freya’s cheek for a little toddler who wasn’t there.
‘Freya?’ Alison asked. ‘Talk to me.’
‘I don’t want to say anything that might upset you,’ Freya admitted, and as she looked up she could see that Alison was crying too.
‘You might,’ Alison said, ‘because I’m easily upset. Right now I’m both the happiest and the saddest I’ve ever been. Andrew should be here.’
‘Yes,’ Freya said, and her tears fell freely now. ‘He should be.’ And then she said something else too. ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t been here for you, Alison.’
‘You have been.’
Alison was honest. She had no reason not to be.
‘You were there every step when he was born, and at the funeral too. And you were here when I had the bleed and you’re here now. Freya, losing Andrew changed things. Not for better or worse, but his death changed things. The world felt out of order. In many ways it still does. But even if you’d still lived down the street it was still something that I had to get through alone.’
‘You’ve got Callum.’
‘Of course I do. And we’ve got through this together. But there are parts of this that you can only do on your own. Look...’
She gestured to the window and Freya looked out, and sure enough there was Callum, walking on the green. And as Freya watched he ran the back of his hand over his eyes before heading back in.
He was crying alone and trying to be stro
ng.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Freya asked, not really expecting there to be. After all, if there was she’d have done it already.
If love could have fixed this, then there would have been a big brother in the room.
‘Could you take this to him for me?’ Alison asked, and untied a little pink balloon from Eleanor’s crib. ‘Can you tell him he has a sister? And can you buy a blue one for him?’
‘Of course.’
And they were friends again—well, they always had been, but they had both needed to find their own way to grieve.
The door opened and in came Callum, all smiles but with glassy eyes, and several aunts and uncles who had just arrived.
‘Freya!’ His voice was bright. ‘We’ve waited for you to get here but we can wait no more. We’re wetting the bairn’s head over at the Tavern tonight.’
‘I can’t wait.’ Freya smiled.
She headed down to the gift shop with the pink balloon in hand, and bought a blue one as Alison had asked. She bought flowers and a little windmill too.
Freya hadn’t been to the cemetery since Andrew’s funeral, yet she found his grave easily, for that sombre walk was etched in her heart.
She had been looking out for Alison then, worried that after surgery and all the exhausting emotion her friend might faint.
Alison almost had.
Freya walked down the path and there it was, his tiny grave. She looked at his name and the dates on the little cross. Two days he had lived, but he would never be forgotten.
‘You have a wee sister,’ Freya said, though the wind took her words, and it was so cold the heat of her tears stung her cheeks as she tied the balloons and then put the little windmill into one of the pots and watched it whirling for a while.
The wind was biting as she walked the short distance to her home, and once there Freya lay on the bed, a jumble of emotions pounding through her heart.
Was she considering staying in London for a chance with a man who had told her never to rely on him?
Only it wasn’t just for Richard—she was coming to love the place too. The noise and the people and the flower seller who had, for no reason, given her a rose the other day. And grumpy old Len. Oh, and not forgetting cynical Stella.
Yet she loved it here too.
At six, Freya dressed for the celebrations.
She did her hair and her make-up, and put on a dark red wool dress, black stockings and boots.
She made every effort—because she was thrilled and happy and she wanted to celebrate Eleanor’s arrival. And she was so pleased that they’d waited until she was there.
And then she put on a warm overcoat and headed for the Tavern.
The party was in full swing when she arrived, and Freya knew she had been wrong before. The hardest thing wasn’t walking into a pub knowing your ex might be there.
It was knowing he couldn’t possibly be.
She hung her coat up and then headed over to the bar, where a large whisky was thrust into her hand. It was as if the entire town was out, celebrating the marvellous news.
Betty and Dr Campbell were in good spirits and even Leah Roberts had found a babysitter and was there with her husband, Davey.
It was absolutely the best night.
Even with a piece of her heart missing.
A big piece.
Actually, now she thought about it, just a tiny part of her heart remained.
And then she saw him.
He was standing in the doorway, wearing a suit and looking around...
Not Malcolm.
Richard.
She thought she must be seeing things, surely, but then she met his eyes and gave him an uncertain smile as he walked over.
‘What are you doing here?’ Freya asked.
‘I’ve got a booking in the restaurant,’ Richard said. ‘If you’d care to join me?’
The newly refurbished Tavern Restaurant was both stunning and familiar. The gorgeous traditional Scottish stone walls had been retained, but a deep moss-green carpet gave the momentary feeling that they were outside a rugged castle. The tables were dressed simply in white, and in the candlelight the silverware gleamed, while on each tablecloth stood a small vase holding thistles.
And she was here with Richard.
Over and over Freya had to keep telling herself that—not that she could forget it—in order to hold on to the dream, else he might disappear.
They ordered drinks and made small talk with Gordon and between themselves as they waited for them to arrive. But when Gordon started to go through the menu, she blinked at the slightly impatient note to Richard’s voice.
‘Could we have a moment, please?’
‘Certainly...’ Gordon nodded.
Freya looked over to Richard and could see his discomfort. And then she knew why he was here. They had been more than a fling—they both knew that—and now, Freya guessed, knowing she was in Scotland, Richard had decided that she deserved a little more than a hospital corridor goodbye.
‘I’m not sure if you’ve heard,’ Richard said, ‘but I’ve given in my notice.’
‘I heard.’ Freya nodded and thought her voice was a little high, as if braced for pain.
‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’ Richard said. ‘I didn’t want to rush into things. I don’t like snap decisions.’
‘But they’re what you do best,’ Freya pointed out. ‘You think on the run.’
‘At work, perhaps,’ Richard agreed, ‘but I’ve had fifteen years of training and supervision and amazing mentors. When it comes to matters of the heart I have no clue. I didn’t exactly have exemplary role models in that department...’ Then he paused, because that wasn’t quite right. ‘I never thought I’d be asking my mother for relationship advice, but I have been.’
‘And what advice did she give?’
‘To take the private hospital position and to hell with you—and, frankly, I agreed with her.’
And then he saw Freya’s pain, and knew that his job, when at all possible, was to take away pain.
He took her hand. ‘I agreed with her for about two weeks,’ he said. ‘I accepted the role with Marcus and gave notice at the Primary. But then I spoke to my father too.’
‘And...?’
‘I didn’t ask him for advice,’ Richard said. ‘Instead I gave it. I told him that he could quit telling me he was lonely, because it was his own bloody fault. He lost the love of his life. I don’t intend to do that.’
Freya looked up.
‘My ties to London are through work and friends. I didn’t go to school there. I don’t have family there. I understand that this is your home—the place you love. Now, I’m not sure if Cromayr Bay Hospital is big enough for me, but I’ll try it for size if it means being with you. I love you.’
She had it all in that moment.
The gift of his love was like a shiny parcel, momentarily blinding her, and this gift came with a velvet box. He opened it and there was a ring. She could see it, but not really see it, for it was blurred by the tears in her eyes.
They were not all happy tears.
She had everything she wanted, Freya thought. Yet all she truly wanted was him. Richard.
‘That won’t be necessary.’ She looked up and saw his face bleach pale, realised he thought she was rejecting the ring. ‘I mean the move—not the ring.’
‘Freya...?’
‘I went on the London Eye and it was an amazing view,’ Freya said. ‘Not better, nor more beautiful than here, just different. Richard...’
She tried to explain the jumble of her feelings with a heart that was pounding and a head that was slightly giddy.
‘After we broke up I was scared that I was thinking of extending my contract in London just in the hope of getting back with you...’
There—she had said it.
‘I’d been warned by several people—including yourself—not to count on a future with you. And so I made my decision based on what I knew. I’m falling i
n love with London and, as exhausting as it is, I love the work. And...’ She could be honest now. ‘I love you. I had to give us a chance.’
‘You’re staying in London?’
Freya nodded. ‘Can you retrieve your notice?’
‘God, yes,’ Richard said.
He slipped the ring on her slender finger and they toasted their news with a single malt whisky that tasted amazing on his lips when they kissed.
‘And now,’ Richard said, ‘I’m having that game pie.’
He’d been waiting for it for a very long time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A WEDDING IN Cromayr Bay would never pass unnoticed. That was the beauty of home, Freya thought as she dozed on the train on her way up to Waverley.
In the end it was the bride who had struggled to get time off from work. She’d had one more Obstetrics Squad Emergency to attend before she could be signed off, and Stella had wanted it done before she renewed her contract. As well as that, her trips to Scotland had meant she had very limited days off to indulge in planning a wedding.
A winter wedding.
Richard, though, didn’t start his new contract until the end of February, so he had been up to Cromayr Bay a few times without Freya, and had finally sorted out his phone so that Freya could call him.
It was a silent coach, so instead of calling she texted him to say she’d arrived at Waverley and was taking the train to Cromayr Bay. She was secretly hoping that he would meet her.
I’ll see you in the morning, then.
Freya was dying to see him, but there was just so much to fit in.
Has your mother arrived?
Not yet.
They were both worried about that, and pretending not to be. Richard’s parents hadn’t been in the same room without a judge present for seventeen years. But he refused to think of that now.
* * *
Richard loved Cromayr Bay. It had the bracing, salty, sharp air that his body required. It was a place he could retreat to and a place he could learn to relax in, for that was necessary indeed.
And then his parents arrived.
The day before the wedding.
The concierge at the Tavern, who doubled as the duty manager, called Richard down to meet Amanda, who stood in Reception bristling.
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