second that he’d died. Not for long, but it had devastated her, the pain of loss slamming through her and bringing home to her just how much she still loved him.
But that was ridiculous, because she didn’t know him, not any more—if she ever really had. They’d been little more than kids, but he wasn’t a kid now. Lord, no.
Not that he’d really been one then, at nineteen, but he certainly wasn’t now, she thought, her heart lurching as he came into view. She was standing in the shadows at the back of Reception and she watched spellbound as he sauntered in, tall and broad, more solid than he had been in his late teens, but every bit as gorgeous. A slight limp was the only sign of his injuries, if anything only adding another layer of attraction, and that cocky smile flickering round his mouth was tearing her composure to shreds. But it wasn’t for her. He hadn’t seen her yet in her shadowy corner, and his smile was for Mrs Trefusis.
‘Morning, Doris!’ he said, and his deep, husky voice, so painfully familiar, made her heart turn over. ‘How are you? Looking as young and gorgeous as ever, I see!’
Their diminutive and elderly cleaner put the magazines she was tidying back in the rack and looked him up and down, her mouth pursed repressively even though her eyes were twinkling. ‘Good morning, Dr Cavendish.’
Gemma saw his mouth twitch and his eyebrows shoot up. ‘Dr Cavendish? Whatever happened to young Samuel? I get the feeling I’m still in trouble with you, Doris—or does it have to be Mrs Trefusis now?’
Doris tutted. ‘You can hardly expect a warm welcome, Samuel. You’ve been gone so long, and your poor mother—’
He snorted. ‘My poor mother has had my support continuously since my father walked out seventeen years ago, as you very well know.’
‘From a distance. You should have been here, Sam,’ she chided gently.
Did his smile lose its sparkle? Maybe, although it didn’t waver as he went on, ‘Well, I’m here now, so you can start by offering me a cup of tea. I’m as dry as a desert.’
Doris sniffed. ‘I’m not sure you deserve one.’
He grinned and gave her a slow, lazy wink. ‘You’re just saying that. You love me really,’ he said, and Gemma watched old Doris Trefusis melt under the megawatt charm.
‘Go away with you,’ she said, blushing and flapping her hand at him. ‘I’ll bring it in—Dr Tremayne’s half expecting you. I might even be able to find you one of Hazel’s fairings if those doctors have left you any. She made an extra batch specially when she knew you were coming home.’
‘What, to help lure me back in?’ he said drily, glancing at Hazel Furse, the practice manager, with a wry smile. Then, as if he’d only just become aware of her presence at the back of Reception, he turned and met Gemma’s eyes, his face suddenly expressionless.
‘Gemma.’
That was all, just the one word, but it stopped her heart in its tracks. Oh, Sam. Were your eyes always so blue? Like a Mediterranean sky at night, cobalt blue, piercing through me.
‘Hello, Sam.’ Her voice sounded forced, and she had to swallow the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. ‘Welcome home.’
His jaw tightened, and he nodded. ‘Thank you. Hopefully it won’t be for too long. Mrs Furse, would you be kind enough to tell Dr T. I’m here, please.’
‘Sam! Good to see you! I saw you drive up. Come on in. Doris, I don’t know if you could rustle up some tea…’
‘It’s all in hand, Dr Tremayne. Kettle’s already on.’
Without another word to her, Sam turned his back on Gemma and limped into Nick’s surgery, the older man’s arm slung round his shoulders, and the door closed behind them.
She let her breath out then, unaware that she’d been holding it ever since he’d come in, holding back a part of herself that was too vulnerable, too tender and delicate and scarred to let him see.
He was back. Sam was back, but not the way she’d always dreamed of, had waited breathlessly for ever since she’d returned to Penhally last year in the hope that he might find out she was here and come back to her. Instead he’d come back for yet another family crisis, another duty visit, another call on his endless good nature and sense of responsibility that nobody else ever seemed to recognise.
But he hadn’t come back for her, and she realised now, after seeing him, after the way he’d looked at her, that he never would. And the pain was devastating…
‘Are you all right?’
She opened her eyes and saw Kate Althorp, one of their midwives, watching her with concern in her all-too-intelligent eyes.
‘I’m fine, Kate.’
‘Are you sure? You look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said again, more firmly, because if Kate didn’t let her go and get on, she was going to do something stupid like burst into tears in Reception. And there was no way she was letting anyone see her show so much as a flicker of emotion.
Even if her heart was being torn in two…
Sam stood at the window and stared back along Harbour Road at the devastation left behind by the flood last autumn, putting Gemma’s face out of his mind. ‘What happened to the Anchor Hotel?’ he asked, although in truth he didn’t care. It and its patrons had never appealed to him, and he was sure it had been mutual.
‘It’s been demolished—the new additions that were never properly built—and they’re rebuilding it. There were a lot of properties damaged around the bottom of Bridge Street and Gull Close. There are lots of people still out of their homes.’
‘It must have been quite something.’
‘It was. It’s a miracle the bridge survived. The noise was tremendous.’
‘I’m sure. I missed all the news, I’m afraid—I was in hospital.’
‘Yes, I know, your mother said you’d had an accident on your bike. I see you’re still limping a bit. How are you?’
‘Really?’ He shrugged. ‘Better. Frustrated by the slow progress, but better. So—I gather your crew are all married now?’ he said, changing the subject to one he was more comfortable with, and Nick smiled, his lean face relaxing slightly.
‘Yes, they are. And Jack and Lucy have both got families. In fact Lucy’s decided she doesn’t want to come back, so there’s a job here if you’re at a loose end…’
Sam snorted softly and shook his head at his old friend and mentor. ‘I owe you a great deal, Dr T., but not that much.’ Not while his wife was working here. ‘Anyway, I’ll be busy.’
‘Yes, of course. How is your mother? She was pretty bad when I saw her yesterday evening, on her way in, but I phoned this morning and they said she’s doing well.’
‘Yes, she is, thanks. They’ve got her in the specialist stroke unit, and they scanned her straight away and put her on mega clot-busters, and she’s improving already.’
‘That’s
