him unrepentant, she’d moved to be near her sister and brother-in-law, her only relatives, and had filed for divorce. Clearly marriage to a man whose career meant more to him than his unborn child had been a big mistake. She and Darren hadn’t spoken since and were not likely to.
She’d written to tell him he had a son when Marcus had been born but had received no response. A phone call from one of the girls at the bank had explained why. He was living with the daughter of the chairman of his bank and soon there would be wedding bells. It was to be hoped that wife number two was aware of his aversion to family life, she’d thought wryly, but was sure that a grandchild for the chairman of the bank would be much more welcome than one whose mother was just a mere nurse.
When she’d taken off the dungarees and freed her hair from under the sun hat, Phoebe went to stand by her baby’s cot. Marcus was sleeping in pink and gold perfection, and planting a butterfly kiss on his smooth cheek Phoebe knew that her ex-husband was the loser in all of this.
As he placed the large case he’d humped up the stairs inside a small hallway, and closed the door behind him, Harry thought, What or who was that?
The voice had been that of a woman, so had the big brown eyes observing him warily through the narrow opening. But there had been no hair visible, and he’d caught a glimpse of what looked like paint-splashed dungarees.
Not a very good beginning, Harry, he thought. His aunt had abided by his wishes that there should be no fuss on his arrival, but clearly hadn’t thought to inform him that he was going to have a strange neighbour.
He’d let himself into the surgery building, which he’d last seen five years ago, with one thought in mind—to get some sleep. The last thing he wanted was to still be under the covers the next morning when he was due to make his first appearance in the practice.
Putting from his mind how the privacy of his arrival had been butted into by some cautious, brown-eyed gremlin, he went to check out the kitchen before having a shower and then going to bed.
There was food in the fridge and the kitchen cupboards—fresh bread, scones, milk, cheese, bacon, eggs, and in pride of place a large carton of the clotted cream so famous in Devon and Cornwall.
He smiled for the first time in hours. His aunt, Barbara Balfour, who had instigated his return to Bluebell Cove, might be less of the woman she had once been, but she would definitely be behind all this, he thought.
Then he explored the bedroom, and came upon the welcome sight of a big double bed made up with fresh linen. When he crossed over to the bedroom window, a winter moon was shining above the village. In the distance, the lights of the house on the headland where his aunt and uncle lived glistened and flickered in the fresh breeze that had been the first thing he’d been aware of as he’d paid off the taxi that had brought him from the airport. As he’d breathed it in, it had been like wine after the dry heat of the country he’d just left.
The next morning, the travel alarm that Harry had brought with him fulfilled its function and he was down in the surgery before eight o’clock, just as the cleaner was leaving. By the time he’d introduced himself to the rosy-cheeked, middle-aged woman called Sarah, who informed him smilingly that her next task was to see her young ones safely off to school, and had renewed his acquaintance with the familiar layout of the surgery, the other staff were arriving.
Dr Leo Fenchurch, his second in command, was the first to arrive, followed by three practice nurses, three receptionists, a practice manager and the local midwife, who was based at the surgery.
As half past eight was approaching, and the surgery would soon be open to the public, Harry called them all together to have a brief chat and introduce himself. Picking up on the atmosphere, which was slightly lukewarm, he thought that Ethan Lomax was going to be a hard act to follow.
The two men had been friends and colleagues in the past, working at The Tides Medical Practice after qualifying. At that time the formidable Barbara Balfour, his aunt, had been senior partner, and no doubt would still have held that position if her health hadn’t started to fail.
He had severed his connection with the place when he’d married Cassie, but Ethan had stayed on until recently when he’d given in to his wife’s wishes and the family had moved to France.
Following in Ethan’s footsteps didn’t daunt him. He had no qualms about the job—he knew his own strengths when it came to that. More challenging were the other reasons behind his return. It was a case of hoping that somehow, in Bluebell Cove, he would find some ease from the grief that had been dragging him down during the last six months.
Harry looked over his new staff keenly—after all, they were the nucleus of the practice, so named because of the stretch of golden sand below the cliffs and the surging sea that came and went endlessly into the cove.
As it was his first morning, he was not aware that there was someone missing.
But while he’d been chatting to the cleaner, Phoebe had come down the back staircase that led to the apartments with Marcus in her arms, and had driven off to the nursery where he would be cared for until she’d finished her calls.
His baby buggy was in the boot, where it had been left the day before. In the short time that it took to unload it and pass her little one into the arms of Beth Dryden, who was in charge of Tiny Toes Nursery, Phoebe was acutely aware that she was running late. Marcus, who was teething, hadn’t wanted his breakfast or been his usual contented little self while she’d been dressing him, all of which had been time consuming.
But he was smiling now, she thought thankfully. After explaining his earlier teething fretfulness to Beth and receiving her reassurance that she would give him some breakfast and would keep an eye on him, she drove back to the surgery where an explanation for her lateness was due to the new senior partner. After last night’s uncomfortable few moments of meeting, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
If it had been Ethan she wouldn’t have needed to explain. He’d been kindness itself to her ever since she’d joined the practice—even while she’d been on leave after Marcus’s birth he’d still kept in touch. Harry Balfour, however, was an unknown quantity.
When she hurried into the surgery he was standing by Reception on the phone. Lucy, the senior practice nurse, said in a low voice, ‘Harry’s talking to Ethan. What kept you Phoebe, baby’s teeth?’
‘Yes, he was really fretful this morning, today of all days.’
The elderly nurse nodded and looking towards the newcomer said, ‘He’s very sombre, not the guy he used to be. Harry was always happy and carefree but, then, he has just lost his wife in tragic circumstances. Why don’t you go and sort out your calls while he’s on the phone and introduce yourself to him afterwards?’
‘Harry, it’s Ethan here,’ the voice at the other end of the line had said when the receptionist handed him the phone. ‘Clearly you’ve arrived safely and are already on the job, so every good wish from all of us here! It gives me a good feeling to know that you are taking up where I left off.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ Harry told him. ‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is here. With regard to the practice, I’ve gathered all the staff together and introduced myself. I’m also very happy with the apartment, it’s really smart. Am I right in thinking that my aunt has been involved in the make-over?’
‘Yes, you are,’ was the reply. ‘Have you spoken to Barbara yet?’
‘No.
