And he looked happy.
Tom couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he gulped in a breath. ‘I didn’t know Joey liked cooking.’
‘Most kids love messy stuff,’ she explained, her colour deepening. ‘And cooking’s better still because they get to eat what they make.’
In one afternoon, she seemed to have got far closer to his nephew than he’d managed in a month. And he knew he needed help. Flora might be the one to help him reach Joey—and there was just something about her that made Tom sure that she wouldn’t judge him harshly. ‘It never even occurred to me to try doing something like that with Joey.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. I’m always the one sent on school visits, but I just don’t seem to be able to connect with Joey—and I’m his uncle. Everything I suggest us doing, he just stares at me and says nothing. I can’t reach him any more. I feel…’ He shook his head, grimacing. ‘Hopeless. Helpless. I don’t even know where to start.’
‘Give it time,’ she said. ‘It’s only been a month since the accident—and he was one of the quieter ones in the school even before then.’
Tom blinked in surprise. ‘So you work at the school? I thought you said Nick Tremayne was your boss?’
‘He is, but I’m the school liaison,’ she explained.
‘So you visit the local schools?’
She nodded. ‘I spend half my time at the local nursery and schools, and half my time at the practice. I do a health visitor clinic at the primary school for mums one morning a week, a clinic at the high school, and I do the vaccinations and preschool health checks in the nursery. Plus I take the personal development classes—I get the little ones thinking about healthy eating and exercise and how they can get five a day, and how they can look after their teeth properly.’
It was the most he’d heard her say in one go, and she looked animated; clearly she loved her job and felt comfortable talking about it. ‘So I take it you like your job? ‘
She smiled. ‘I love it.’
Just as he loved his: something else they had in common. Tom paused, remembering what she’d said when he’d first walked in. ‘I’m sorry about your parents.’
‘And I’m sorry about your sister.’ She bit her lip, looking awkward. ‘I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed nice.’
‘She was. My big sister.’ Tom sighed. ‘And I feel worse because I was meant to go to France with her, Kevin and Joey to see our parents for New Year and I bailed out. Maybe if I’d been driving the crash wouldn’t have happened.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Flora said. ‘And think of it another way—if you had been in the crash, Joey might’ve been left without anyone at all.’
‘Mum and Dad would’ve stepped in to help, but they’re nearly seventy now, and it’s not fair to drag them back to England and make them run around after a little one. Dad’s arthritis really gives him gyp.’ He rubbed his hand across his forehead, but the tight band of tension refused to shift. ‘I loved spending time with Joey when Susie was alive—I used to see them most weekends. I’ve always tried to be a good uncle and we used to have fun—but since the accident he’s just put all these barriers up and I don’t know how to get them down again.’
‘Give it time,’ she said again, her voice kind.
‘Did he talk to you this afternoon?’
‘A bit. He was a little shy.’ She shrugged and looked away. ‘But so am I, so that’s OK.’
And that was one of the reasons why Flora seemed to understand Joey better than he did: she knew what it was like to be shy, and Tom never had. And he couldn’t help wondering what Flora was like when she wasn’t shy. He knew she was practical and kind—but what did she look like when she laughed?
Or when she’d just been thoroughly kissed?
Oh, for pity’s sake, he really needed to keep his libido under control.
Luckily his thoughts weren’t showing on his face, because Flora continued, ‘I read him some stories after we’d eaten—he chose them from the box I take to clinic—and then he fell asleep on the beanbag.’
‘Bless him.’ Tom bit his lip. ‘I think he’s had a better time with you than he would’ve done at the childminder’s.’ He sighed. ‘I feel bad taking him to the childminder’s for breakfast and then not picking him up until after dinner for half the week, but I work shifts—it’s the only thing I can do. I was trying to avoid any more change in his life, but she told me the other week I’m going to have to find someone else because she’s moving.’
‘Would your childminder be Carol?’ she asked.
Yet again, she’d surprised him. ‘How did you know?’
‘I know all the local childminders, through work,’ Flora explained. ‘Carol loves it here in Cornwall, but her husband’s been promoted to his company’s head office in London so that’s why she has to move.’
‘So if you know all the local childminders…’ Tom brightened. ‘Do you happen to know anyone with spare places who’d be good with Joey and could take him from half past six in the morning until school, and then after school until a quarter past seven or so? I can hardly take him with me to the station, in case we have a shout.’
‘Nobody’s got any spare places right now,’ Flora said. ‘The ones who did have are already booked up from taking on Carol’s clients. But I can ask around again, if you like.’
Yet another example of his failure at being a stand-in parent. ‘Susie would’ve had that sorted out on day one,’ Tom said grimly. ‘When Carol told me she was leaving and I’d have to find someone else to look after Joey, I was still trying to get my head around what had happened and learning to fit my life round my nephew. I didn’t have room in my head for anything else. And now I wish I’d made more of an effort.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping on you like this.’
‘Not a problem. It’s not going any further than me.’
‘Trust you, you’re a nurse?’
‘Something like that.’ Flora smiled at him, and Tom realised that she had dimples. Seriously cute dimples. Dimples he wanted to touch. Dimples he wanted to kiss.
Though now wasn’t the time or the place. ‘Thank you. You’ve been really kind. Can I impose on you and ask you what’s your secret? You’ve got through to Joey when nobody else can, not even his teachers.’
She shrugged. ‘I think he likes Banjo.’
The dog wagged his tail at hearing his name. The sound of Banjo’s tail thumping the floor woke Joey, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. For a moment, he stared wildly round him, as if not knowing where he was.
‘Hey, Jojo, we’re at Flora’s. At the farm,’ Tom said, going over to him and squatting down so that he was at his nephew’s level. ‘You fell asleep, sweetheart. I hear you’ve been running about with Banjo here and seeing the chickens and making brownies.’
Joey
