surgery, convinced she’s got a brain tumour, every time she has a headache.’ Mrs Poole rolled her eyes.
Tom hid a smile. He’d already been warned about Betty Jacklin, but hadn’t come across her yet. ‘I can’t possibly comment on other patients. I know you wouldn’t call me for something little. But I also know you’re the sort who’s too stubborn to ring when she really ought to.’ He squeezed her hand gently again. ‘And guess which kind of patient I lose more sleep over?’
Mrs Poole sighed. ‘All right. I promise I’ll call you.’
‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do you want me to make you a cup of tea before I go?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have time for that, Doctor.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Actually, I do.’ It would only take a couple of minutes. And if it meant getting her to drink a bit more, he was all for it. Too many of his elderly patients didn’t drink enough and ended up with bladder in-fections—which, if not treated fast enough, led to fever and confusion and being cared for in hospital until the antibiotics did their job, not to mention a huge worry for their families. He believed in pre-empting things where he could. ‘So, if I remember rightly, that’s a dash of milk and half a teaspoon of sugar?’
‘You’re a good lad, Dr Ashby,’ Mrs Poole said. ‘And, with your looks, you must have the women lining up for you.’
Tom just smiled. He hadn’t noticed any line of women—and even if there was one, he wasn’t interested. His daughter came first. And he’d never put himself in the position where his heart could be broken again.
At half past three, Amy was sitting at Joe’s desk, starting to look through the box of Joseph’s papers, when Buster left his position at her feet and bounded through the door, tail wagging.
Clearly Tom was home.
She could hear a child talking. Odd: Tom hadn’t mentioned anything about a child. Unless maybe his wife was doing some extra tuition and one of her pupils had come back with her?
Better get the introductions over with, she thought, and headed out of the office. She followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, noting the child’s rucksack hanging up in the hallway. And she blinked in surprise when she walked into the kitchen. There was a little girl sitting at the table—around eight years old, Amy judged—with a glass of milk and a book in front of her. She had Tom’s colouring and that same shy, slightly hesitant smile.
Buster pattered across the tiles to her, alerting Tom to the fact that he and the little girl were no longer alone. He turned round and smiled at Amy. ‘Hello, Amy. Let me introduce you. This is Perdita—everyone calls her Perdy.’
Perdy was clearly Tom’s daughter, then, not his wife.
Carrie hadn’t mentioned anyone else. So where was the child’s mother? Was Tom divorced? But Amy knew it wasn’t that common for fathers to be given custody of the children, which meant that the break-up must’ve been messy with a capital M.
No wonder Perdy looked quiet and withdrawn.
Amy remembered another little girl being like that, too. A little girl whose father had been awarded custody. A little girl she’d grown to love so much, as if Millie were her own daughter rather than her intended stepchild-to-be.
But then Colin had suggested that they move to the States, to let Millie see more of her mother. And while Amy had been tying up loose ends in England, thinking that she was going to start a new life with the man and child she loved, Colin had changed his mind. He’d called Amy with the news that he and his ex had decided to give their marriage another go, for their daughter’s sake. That had been hard enough to take; but then he’d added that he thought that a clean break would be the best thing for Millie.
Amy knew it had been the right thing to do, for the little girl’s sake. But it had ripped her world apart, and she’d retreated into work afterwards, concentrating on her career rather than her private life.
Which had worked just fine—until her career had gone so badly wrong, too.
OK, so this wasn’t quite the same. She wasn’t in any kind of relationship with Tom Ashby. But, right now, she was bone tired and she just didn’t have the strength to help anyone else.
Be polite, smile, but keep your distance, Amy told herself. It isn’t your job to fix this. ‘Hello, Perdy,’ she said, staying exactly where she was.
‘Perdy, this is Miss Rivers.’
Miss rather than Doctor. Did he know that she was a qualified surgeon? Or hadn’t Joe and Carrie told him that she was a medic of any kind? Not that it made much difference. She wasn’t a neurosurgeon any more.
‘Hello, Miss Rivers,’ Perdy said dutifully.
That sounded so stuffy and formal. Completely not how Amy was. For a moment, she was tempted to offer her own first name; then her common sense kicked in. Keep your distance. Formality would help her to do that. She gave the little girl a polite smile. ‘Hello.’
‘Joe and Carrie are Miss Rivers’s aunt and uncle. She’s staying here for a while,’ Tom explained.
Perdy looked worried for a moment, and then carefully made her face blank. ‘Does that mean we have to go and find somewhere else to live?’
It sounded as though they’d moved around a bit, and Amy could remember being much happier here as a child because she was settled for the summer instead of dragging round after her parents with nobody to play with. Guilt flooded through her. What was the old saying? What goes around comes around. Joe and Cassie had been kind to her. She really ought to offer the same kindness to Perdy. It wasn’t the little girl’s fault that her presence brought back memories of Millie and a sense of loss that Amy would prefer to suppress.
‘No, darling, it just means we’re sharing the house,’ Tom said, ruffling her hair.
‘So I can still play with Buster?’ Perdy asked.
‘Absolutely,’ Tom reassured her.
Amy should’ve guessed that Perdy would respond to the dog in the same way that Amy herself had responded to Joe and Cassie’s dogs as a child. Guilt twisted in her stomach again. But this wasn’t her problem and she had enough to deal with. She had nothing to offer a lonely little girl. Right now, she had nothing to offer anyone.
‘Are you here on a summer holiday, Miss Rivers?’ Perdy asked.
‘Sort of.’
‘Perdy, you’re asking too many questions,’ Tom said quietly.
The little girl flushed, and shut up.
Amy raised her eyebrows at Tom. OK, so she didn’t particularly want to talk about why she was here, but he could have just distracted his daughter instead of putting her down like that.
He looked right back at her, and Amy found herself flushing as deeply as Perdy when she read the message in his eyes. Just who did Amy Rivers think she was, to judge him?
He had a point. She hadn’t exactly helped matters, had she? And he was clearly trying to do his best with his little girl.
‘I’ll,
