given her any reason to feel threatened or harassed in any way.
So why was he so much of a threat to her?
* * *
‘Hello, my darlings! How are you?’
‘Mummy!’
The girls ran to her, hugging her in stereo, dragging her to the table to see what they were doing.
‘We’ve made you a picture!’
‘I did this bit, and Chloe did that bit—’
‘And Grace put the ears on the bunny, and MamaJo let us eat the last chocolate bunny!’
‘Did she?’ Annie laughed at her mother and shook her head. ‘I thought we didn’t eat chocolate between meals?’
‘But we had it for pudding!’ Grace told her solemnly. ‘MamaJo didn’t cheat.’
Annie bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing. ‘I’m glad to hear it. And it’s a lovely picture. Thank you. As soon as it’s dry, we’ll put it up on the wall. Now, how about your bath, and then I’ll read you a story.’
‘I want to choose—’
‘No, it’s my turn—’
‘I’m choosing,’ she said firmly. ‘I think it’s my turn. How about Peter Rabbit?’
‘Yes!’
They ran for the bathroom, and she rolled her eyes at her mother. ‘Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clear it up,’ she promised, and followed them.
Chloe, always the one in trouble, was diving headfirst over the side of the bath, trying to put the plug in, and she fished her back out, put the plug in and turned on the taps.
‘So what else have you done today?’ she asked, quickly stripping their clothes off and throwing them at the laundry basket.
She bathed them while they chattered, washing their hair—Grace’s angelic pale blonde curls, Chloe’s wildly tangled chocolate-brown mop—and then combed it through with conditioner, rinsed and blotted and fished them out of the bath to finish drying while the water drained out.
And all the time they were talking, telling her about their day, their friends, the helpers at the nursery, and amidst the lively chatter Annie felt herself starting to relax.
‘Gosh, we’ve all had a busy day. Come on, let’s go and snuggle up and have a story, and then it’s time for bed.’
She settled them down, tidied up the bathroom and went back to the kitchen.
‘Oh, Mum, I said I’d clear up.’
‘You’ve done enough, you’ve been at work. Here, I’ve made you tea. Come and sit down and tell me about your day.’
Annie flopped into the corner of the sofa and sighed. ‘It was exhausting. We’ve had one thing after another. I don’t think I’ve sat down for more than a few minutes all day. How were the girls? They seem lively enough.’
‘Fine. No problem. They really seem to like the hospital nursery. They were full of everything they’d done today.’
‘I noticed,’ she said drily. ‘They didn’t stop telling me about it all through their bath, but at least it’s a good sign.’
It was good. More than good. It was essential. Her mother was wonderful, and she couldn’t possibly have managed without her since the twins had been born, but she felt so guilty asking, so guilty burdening her with the girls. Although she’d said a million times that having her granddaughters wasn’t a burden, she knew it was. It had to be. They were a burden on her, and she was their mother, although if she had her time over again she’d change nothing. Well, except their father, who’d had the fastest pair of running shoes she’d ever seen, but that wasn’t their fault.
Chloe and Grace were the most wonderful things that had ever happened to her, and the fact that they were happy at the nursery was important for all of them. If the girls weren’t happy, none of them would be happy.
‘How’s Grannie?’ she asked, and her mother shrugged.
‘Oh, much the same. Stubborn, independent, won’t take any painkillers and then wonders why everything hurts.’
Annie smiled ruefully at her mother. ‘Are you OK, Mum? I know you say we aren’t a burden, but between my girls and your mother, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.’
‘No, I’m not.’ Her mother brushed it aside with a dismissive flap of her hand. ‘What else would I be doing with my time? Arranging flowers in the church? Working in a charity shop?’
She got to her feet, the subject closed. ‘Are you ready for your supper? It’s Thai curry. I’ll just heat it up and we can eat it in here in front of the television, with your feet up.’
Annie smiled gratefully at her. ‘That sounds lovely. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day. Well, only chocolate biscuits.’
Her mother tutted and walked off in the direction of the kitchen, and she watched her go and felt guilt. Always guilt.
She should have got up, gone to help, but she was exhausted. It had been a killer shift, not made any easier by trying to dodge Ed Shackleton. Impossible. They’d seemed to end up working together all day.
Which was fine. Working with him was fine. He was great to work with. It was those little moments in between, when the pressure was off and he’d strip off his gloves and apron and fold his arms and slouch back against the wall with that casual grace...
She rested her head back, gave a little sigh and closed her eyes, but there he was, welded on to her retinas—laughing at something silly, sprinting to the ambulance bay, snapping into action when someone had arrested in Resus—images of him tormented her and she sat forward and dropped her head into her hands.
‘What’s up?’
‘Oh, nothing. New colleague. He’s a bit...’
‘Useless?’
‘Oh, no, he’s not useless. Far from it. He’s excellent. He’s just—I don’t know. There. All the time.’
What was it with a mother’s radar? She could almost hear the antenna twirling.
‘Single?’
She stuck the fork into her curry and lifted a chunk of chicken up to her mouth.
‘Mum, I have no idea. It’s irrelevant. I’m not interested.’
‘How old?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Thirty? Thirty-two? He’s a registrar.’
And he didn’t wear a ring, which meant nothing, of course, because she didn’t either and she was far from free. Single, yes, but free? Available? Not in this lifetime.
‘So
