hands. ‘Well, you know how it is with kids.’
Not personally. And he never would now. He didn’t deserve to have a family. ‘Yes,’ he said, as neutrally as he could.
Cocoa sat at Marc’s feet and rested his chin on Marc’s knee; absently, Marc rubbed the top of the dog’s head.
‘Would you like a cookie with your coffee?’ Laurie asked.
‘Thank you. But I hope you didn’t go to all this trouble for me.’
‘No, of course n—’ She winced, cutting the word off as she put a couple of cookies onto a plate. ‘Sorry, that came out the wrong way. I didn’t mean you weren’t worth taking any trouble over. I’m baking because it’s the PTA coffee morning tomorrow. Izzy decorated the cakes.’
Laurie’s little girl. Which explained the sprinkles, and probably most of the mess.
‘Obviously I don’t get a chance to actually go to the coffee morning because I need to be at the surgery for my shift, but I try to do my bit to help. I always make them some cakes to sell, give them a raffle prize and leave them money for some tickets. If they draw my name out, they choose something for me and send the prize home with Izzy.’
Laurie was clearly very involved with village life. Not only was she a GP, she was also a mum who did things to support the local school. Would Ginny have been like that? he wondered. Probably. As a teacher, she would’ve been involved with the school, either because she worked there or because their child went there. Though she would’ve been a bit less chaotic than Laurie. Their house in London had never been as untidy as this.
‘So did you enjoy your first day at the practice?’ she asked.
Work. He could talk about work, he thought gratefully. Not personal stuff. That was good. ‘Fine.’
‘Good.’ Laurie put a mug of coffee in front of him, along with the cookies, then added milk to her own coffee and sat down opposite him. ‘I’ve been thinking about the easiest way to tackle this. I thought we could maybe brainstorm all the different kinds of exercise we can think of, then I’ll list all the people within a five-mile radius who can offer each one, and we can divvy up the calls between us and ask them if they’d be prepared to do a taster session for us.’
‘Sure. That sounds reasonable.’
She looked relieved. ‘Great. One tiny thing: would you mind if I asked you to deal with Neil Peascod? He owns the gym and swim place at the other end of the town.’
‘Do I take it he’s likely to be difficult?’ Marc asked, wondering why she didn’t want to deal with the guy.
‘Not exactly.’ She flushed. ‘He was a bit, um, persistent with me last year. I guess he didn’t like to think that someone might actually say no to him.’
‘He asked you out?’ Then Marc realised how rude that sounded. ‘I apologise. I didn’t meant it to come out like that.’
Laurie didn’t look in the slightest bit offended. She simply laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m under no illusions that I’m the next supermodel. I’m thirty years old, I’m a mum, I have lumpy bits, and I have days when my hair needs stuffing under a hat so nobody can see how frizzy it looks.’ She smiled. ‘And I also have days when I look utterly fabulous. But they’re the rare ones. Dog-walking isn’t exactly the time or place to wear a little black dress and high heels.’
At the W-word, the Labrador deserted his post at Marc’s feet, rushed over to Laurie, put his paws on her knee and licked her face hopefully. She rolled her eyes and petted him. ‘No, Cocoa, I didn’t mean now. You know as well as I do that walkies is when I get home from work and before I collect Izzy from school.’
Marc couldn’t help smiling. He liked Laurie. She was warm and bubbly, yet at the same time she was very down-to-earth.
‘Sorry about that.’ When she switched her attention back to him, he noticed just how blue her eyes were. Almost as bright as the forget-me-nots in his garden. ‘Neil. No, he’s not difficult. He just thinks that he’s the answer to a desperate single mum’s problems.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, I’m a single mum but, no, I’m not desperate, I don’t necessarily need a man in my life to make it complete, and I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.’
She didn’t sound bitter, but as if she was simply stating the facts. Or was that a gentle warning to him? Marc wondered. He’d told her that he was single. Perhaps this was her way of telling him that even if he might be interested, she wasn’t.
‘Noted,’ he said drily. He took a bite of the still-warm cookie. ‘This is very nice.’
‘Thank you. And please don’t let Cocoa con you into sharing with him. They’re bad for his teeth, and he’s very far from being a poor, starving hound.’
The dog looked up at him with mournful eyes, and Marc couldn’t help smiling. ‘Not according to him.’
‘He’s an old fraud.’ She smiled back. ‘Sam said you were interested in sports medicine. Is that what you did in your last job?’
‘It was more of a spare-time thing, really. I worked with the local rugby club.’
‘Oh. Do you play?’ she asked.
‘Not any more.’ Marc found himself volunteering information; he hadn’t expected that and it unnerved him slightly. ‘I was injured.’
‘Knee?’ she guessed.
‘Shoulder. Dislocation, then a rotator cuff tear.’
‘Ouch.’ She looked sympathetic. ‘I’m not surprised you stopped playing. In your shoes, I wouldn’t want to risk doing that again.’
‘Believe me, after three months of doing nothing but triage calls because my arm was out of action, I’d never risk it again.’ And he wished with all his heart that he hadn’t given in to the frustration he’d felt at having to give up the game he loved. Because then maybe he could’ve stopped the chain of events that had wrecked his life and robbed him of everything else he loved.
‘I guess rugby and football probably wouldn’t be the best kind of exercise for our group anyway,’ she said.
‘I’d say no to squash as well,’ he said.
‘Very sensible. And we’ll ban them from jogging. We’re trying to improve their circulation, not give them shin splints.’
‘Or overdoing it in the first flush of enthusiasm and giving themselves a heart attack.’ He looked thoughtfully at her. ‘Badminton’s a possible.’
‘And swimming. As well as low-impact exercise classes and circuit training,’ she suggested.
‘Maybe martial arts—kick-boxing doesn’t have to be fast and furious.’
She smiled. ‘I’ve always fancied trying that one myself.’ She took a laptop from a drawer in the huge pine dresser. ‘Let’s start getting this down.’ The computer whirred and made a couple of protesting noises, and she rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry, this is a bit old. I’m afraid it takes ages to boot up.’
His
