few months torn between physio and a desk job he loathed, trying to earn his keep at the charity he’d been working for when he’d been blown up and wondering where the hell to go from here. Next to all of that, this further infringement of his personal choice was small potatoes.
But his mother’s life—well, that was certainly going to change, and if she had her way, change his with it. ‘She’s OK,’ he said, trying to sound convincing. ‘It’s her left side, mostly her hand and her face, but that’s just the visible stuff. I have no idea what else might have been affected or what she’ll get back with this intensive treatment. Hopefully she’ll make a full recovery, but I expect the full extent will reveal itself in time. I would have thought there are bound to be some after-effects.’
‘Any idea of the cause?’
He shook his head. ‘Not as yet. They’re looking into it—she’s having an echocardiogram and a carotid scan, and she’s on a monitor, but so far they’ve drawn a blank. Her blood pressure’s dreadful, too, and she’s put on weight. Her diet’s always been atrocious—she’s addicted to chocolate, always has been, and the only reason she isn’t enormous is that she hardly eats anything else. God alone knows what Jamie’s been surviving on, there’s no food in the house to speak of, and she’s obviously depressed.’
‘We’ll sort her out, Sam, once she’s home. Don’t worry. And how’s your brother coping?’
Sam turned away from the window and eased into a chair with a sigh, toying with one of Hazel’s biscuits. ‘By running away from it, I think, but he’s been worrying her for a while. He’s a nightmare. It’s all too familiar, I’m afraid. Been there, done that, as the saying goes. I gather he’s in trouble with the police as well, just to add insult to injury.’
‘He is. He’s got in with a bad crowd—Gary Lovelace amongst others.’
Sam frowned. ‘Lovelace?’
‘Yes—do you remember him? Proper little tearaway as a child, and he’s no better now. He’s a year older than Jamie, I think.’
He trawled his brains. ‘I remember the name—probably the father’s. Always in and out of the slammer for one thing or another. Petty stuff mostly, if I remember. So Gary’s leading my little brother astray, is he? Damn.’
‘I think he’s willing to be led,’ Nick said wryly. ‘I’ve tried, Sam. I can’t get through to him. I don’t know him like I knew you—because my children have all grown up now, I hardly see his generation, whereas you were always in the house—usually in the kitchen eating us out of house and home or getting up to mischief in the garden. I can remember a few spontaneous bonfires…’
He gave Nick a crooked grin over the rim of his mug. ‘Hmm. My “SAS” phase. Sorry about that.’
‘Don’t be sorry. You never really did any harm, and you were always welcome. Annabel had a really soft spot for you, you know.’
He met Nick’s eyes with a pensive smile. ‘I was very fond of her. You must miss her.’
‘I do. She was a good woman. She used to worry about you, you know, and how your mother relied on you so heavily. It was no wonder you went off the rails. You had more than enough on your plate.’
‘Yeah, well, that doesn’t change, does it? I can’t believe I’m back picking up the pieces all over again.’
‘I can. You were a good boy, and you’ve turned into a good man, just as I knew you would.’
‘Oh, that’s just so much bull, Nick, and you know it. I wouldn’t be here at all if I had the slightest damned excuse to get away.’
‘Yes, you would—and your mother needs you. She misses you. Lots of people do.’
He gave a wry snort. ‘Hardly. They all remember me as a hell-raiser. Even Doris Trefusis tore me off a strip on the way in, and I have no doubt Audrey Baxter won’t waste a moment telling me I’m not welcome home.’
‘Ah, no—you’ll be spared that one. Mrs Baxter died in the flood.’
‘Really? Poor woman.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Not that she’d say that about me. She was always horrible to me—she made damn sure everyone knew everything I ever did, to the point that I used to do things in front of her and place bets with myself that my mother would know before I got home.’
‘You were just misunderstood.’
He wasn’t so sure about that. He grunted and looked around, not wanting to get into the past he was so keen to avoid. ‘So—what’s going on here? It looks a bit different to the last time I saw it. I haven’t been in here since I did work experience when your brother was the GP.’
‘Well, it’s certainly changed since then. We reopened it five years ago.’ He paused, his face troubled, and Sam realised he looked suddenly a great deal older. As well he might. Then he seemed to pull himself together and stood up. ‘Come and have a look round. I doubt if you’ll recognise it now. We’ve extended out the back, built a new minor injuries unit and X-ray and plaster rooms, but we’re also planning to build another extension on the side into what used to be Althorps’. The boatyard burned down in September, and it worked in our favour because we were able to buy part of the site—do you remember Kate Althorp? James’s widow?’
‘Vaguely. I know the name and I remember James dying in the storm.’
A quick frown flitted across Nick’s brow. ‘Yes. Well, her brother-in-law wanted to sell up, and without the income Kate’s half was redundant, so they cashed in on the insurance and sold the site. We bought enough land at the side of the surgery to extend it further, and to provide some more consulting rooms so we can extend the facilities offered by the MIU, which will give us a much better use of our space here. Come and see. You’ll be impressed, I hope.’
He was—but he wasn’t fooled. Nick was angling, but Sam wasn’t biting. Under any other circumstances—but they weren’t. They were what they were, and what they were was too damned hard to contemplate. They were standing at the top of the stairs discussing Nick’s vision for the future of the surgery as a multi-disciplinary health centre with dental and osteopathy services when Nick was called to the phone, and he left Sam there and went into a consulting room to take the call.
And Gemma, who’d been the one to find Nick and tell him he was wanted on the phone, was left standing there with Sam, her soft grey-blue eyes wary, her body language defensive. As if he was in some way a threat.
That was a laugh. She was far more of a threat to him than he would ever be to her. She was the one who’d walked away.
He held her eyes, hardening himself to the expression in them, refusing to be drawn in. ‘My mother said you were back.’
‘Yes, I’ve been working here for a year now. How is she, Sam? Nick said she was improving.’
‘Doing really well. Rather shocked, I think. We all are. She’s only fifty-seven.’
‘I know, but she’s had high blood pressure for years, and her diet’s a bit lacking.’
‘What, in anything other than chocolate?’ he said with a wry grin, and then felt his heart turn over when she smiled back. Oh, God, he wanted her—wanted to haul her into his arms, up against his
