a care in the world. She’d seen him leave his house about half an hour ago, perfectly groomed, dressed in an immaculate dark suit, his hair crisply styled. She’d caught the glint of a cufflink as he’d reached to open the car door. His whole life was probably streamlined.
She shepherded everyone towards the front door, but as they were about to leave Becky said urgently, ‘Saskia—wait. I think Boomer’s being sick in the kitchen. I can hear him.’ The little girl went back in there to take a closer look. ‘Yeuw! It’s got lots of bits of tissue in it.’
Saskia sighed. Tyler certainly never had to deal with anything like this, did he? She looked at Charlie. ‘Have you been feeding Boomer paper towels again?’
He shook his head vigorously, but she noticed he couldn’t quite meet her eyes.
‘It’s bad for him,’ she said firmly. ‘And it’s not helping us either, because now I have to stop and clean up after him when we’re already pushed for time. Perhaps you’d better come and give me a hand. Go and let him outside in case he needs to be sick some more.’
A few minutes later she settled Boomer down in his bed in the kitchen and they finally started out on the walk to school. It was a good thing the primary and secondary schools were on the same site, Saskia reflected. At least it made things a little easier.
Of all the mornings to be delayed, this was the worst, because as soon as she had dropped off the children she was supposed to go for her interview at the hospital. She really needed that job, and she was more than a little anxious about it. In fact, she was beginning to feel quite apprehensive. There was money coming in from her brother’s bank account to pay the rent, but now she had three extra mouths to feed and the bills were mounting up. Her savings would only take her so far.
Arriving at the school a few minutes later, she gave Becky and Charlie a hug and told a still fractious Caitlin she hoped she’d have a good day. She would have hugged her, too, but the teenager made it clear she didn’t want any demonstration of affection, especially not in front of the other students.
She was about to leave when someone said, ‘Ah, Miss Reynolds—or should I call you Dr Reynolds? I saw you helping Charlie to find his peg in the cloakroom a little while ago and realised you must be the newcomers to our school.’
Saskia glanced at the woman who had approached her. She was tall, with medium-length dark hair cut in a stylish bob, and there was an undeniable look of authority about her. ‘Hello. Yes, that’s right. I’m Dr Reynolds.’
The woman smiled. ‘I’m Elizabeth Hunter, the headmistress—I’m so glad I managed to meet up with you.’ She was keen to talk to Saskia about the children’s parents and how their accident might have affected the youngsters. ‘We want to be as supportive as possible,’ she said.
‘Thank you. I appreciate that. It has been a difficult time for them, but I’m hoping that if we let the children talk about their worries it might help.’ Saskia spoke to the headmistress for a few minutes, wanting to ease the children’s transition into their new school as best she could but conscious all the while that the clock was ticking and she needed to get away to the hospital.
At last, though, she was free to rush away to keep her appointment. Glancing at her watch, she realised with growing alarm that there was no way she was going to make it to the interview on time.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to walk to school. It had taken a lot longer than she’d anticipated, with Charlie dawdling and Becky stopping to search for wild flowers in the hedgerows, but this was a small island and she’d hoped she might get away without buying a car. Walking, she’d reasoned, would at least give them the opportunity to enjoy the green hills and valleys along the way and let them take in the view of the bay and the bustling harbour in the distance. Now, though, she still had a further ten minutes’ walk ahead of her.
The hospital, she discovered, was relatively small, a pleasing, white-painted building, with a deep, low-slung roof. Alongside it was a health centre and a pharmacy. She hurried through the automated glass doors at the entrance.
The receptionist was talking to a young woman, a slender girl with chestnut hair arranged into an attractive braid at the back of her head. She was a doctor, Saskia guessed, judging by the stethoscope draped around her neck.
‘Hello. Can I help you?’ The receptionist broke off their conversation so that she could attend to the new arrival.
‘Oh, hello. Yes, thanks,’ Saskia said, a little out of breath from her exertions. ‘I’m Dr Reynolds. I’m here to see Dr Gregson.’
‘Oh, yes,’ the woman answered with a smile, ticking her name off a list on her desk, ‘you’re the nine-fifteen appointment. They’re waiting for you. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll take you along to the office.’
The woman doctor glanced down at her watch and made a face. Noting her reaction, Saskia almost did the same. She could guess what she was thinking. She wasn’t making a very good start.
‘Just tell Dr Beckett that I’d appreciate his involvement in the new cardiovascular clinic, would you?’ the doctor murmured. ‘Perhaps he might be able to spare me a few minutes later today?’
‘I’m sure he’ll make the time,’ the receptionist answered.
She walked with Saskia along the corridor. ‘Here we are,’ she said, knocking lightly on a door marked in bold, black lettering ‘Dr James Gregson’.
A gravelly voice responded, ‘Come,’ and Saskia pulled in a deep breath before going into the room. She took in her surroundings in one vague sweep.
A large, mahogany desk dominated the room, and behind it sat a well-dressed, distinguished-looking man who studied her with interest over rimless reading glasses that sat low down on his nose. There were two other, younger, men on either side of him, some small distance away, seated at an angle to the table.
One of them had his head down, immersed in studying papers in a manila file, and for a dreadful moment, as she stared at the top of his dark head, Saskia felt a wash of stomach-lurching familiarity run through her. Her heart began to thump, increasing in tempo as though she’d been running. Could this really be her new neighbour?
‘Dr Reynolds, it’s good to see you. Please, come in and take a seat.’ Dr Gregson stood up and waved her to a leather chair in front of the desk. He was a man of medium build, with square-cut features and dark hair, greying a little at the temples. Above the glasses his brown eyes were keen, missing nothing.
‘Let me introduce you to my colleagues,’ he said. ‘This is Dr Matheson—Noah Matheson. He’s our man in charge of the minor injuries unit.’
Dr Matheson stood up to shake hands with her. He was young, handsome, in his early thirties, tall, lithe, and it was obvious right away that he was most definitely taken with Saskia. Interest sparked in his hazel eyes as he drank in the cloud of her Titian hair and his gaze skimmed her slender, curvaceous figure. She was wearing a cream-coloured suit with a pencil-line skirt and a jacket that nipped in at the waist. It was a feminine outfit yet at the same time businesslike, and it gave her a fair amount of confidence to know that she looked her best.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Noah said, holding onto her hand for a second or two longer than was strictly necessary.
‘And this is Dr Beckett—Tyler Beckett. He’s in charge of Accident and Emergency.’
Her
