Read Neurosurgeon...and Mum! Online
Authors: Kate Hardy
‘That’d be great,’ Tom said. ‘Perdy, you need to get changed out of your school uniform, honey.’
‘Yes, Daddy.’ She scampered up the stairs.
Tom looked ruefully at Amy. ‘Sorry about the questioning.’
‘Not a problem.’ Perdy hadn’t pushed for details.
But then she made the mistake of glancing at Tom again. Remembering how it had felt when his hand had touched her face, so briefly. And it made her wonder what it would be like if his hand cupped her face properly and his head dipped so his mouth could brush against hers. How his mouth would feel against hers—warm and sweet, or hot and demanding? Something in the curve of his lips told her that Tom would be a passionate lover.
She really had to stop this. Talk about inappropriate. And hadn’t they already agreed boundaries?
‘I’d better sort dinner,’ she said quickly, panic lancing through her, and disappeared into the kitchen.
She’d regained her equilibrium by the time she called Tom and Perdy for dinner.
‘This is really nice,’ Perdy said. ‘I love spaghetti. It’s my favourite.’
‘Mine, too,’ Tom agreed.
This was so much like the times Amy had spent with Colin and Millie. She’d even cooked Millie’s favourite meal, acting completely on automatic. All except the ice cream. Forgetting where she was for a moment, Amy said, ‘I was thinking about making some ice cream this weekend.’
‘Please can I help?’
Perdy had the same brightness in her eyes that Millie used to have whenever Amy had suggested a baking session. The memories put a lump in her throat so she couldn’t speak for a moment; but when she glanced at Tom she could see he looked surprised. Clearly Perdy didn’t usually ask something like this. Given that they’d had a rough year—and Amy guessed that the little girl had gone into
her shell—it would be cruel to knock her back. And yet the idea of sharing a kitchen with the little girl, getting close to her…
Tom came to her rescue. ‘Perdy, honey, I’m on duty tomorrow morning, so you won’t be here.’
‘Am I coming to the surgery with you?’
He shook his head. ‘I was going to ring one of your friends’ mums to see if you can play there for the morning and maybe your friend could come here and play in the afternoon.’
‘But I haven’t got any friends,’ Perdy said quietly.
‘Oh, darling.’ Tom scooped her onto his lap and held her close.
Amy could see in his face that he had no idea what to say, that he was too shocked and dismayed to respond.
And she’d been in Perdy’s shoes. She knew exactly what it felt like, not fitting in as a kid. How could she possibly stand by and watch the two of them hurting like this, when she could do something to help?
She reached over and took the little girl’s hand. ‘Sure you do—you have your dad and Buster.’ The thought of what she was about to offer made her voice wobble slightly. ‘And me. I mean, we don’t know each other very well yet, but we both like Buster and we both like ice cream, and that’s a start to becoming friends.’
Perdy’s eyes were full of tears. ‘But you’re busy.’
‘With Joseph’s papers?’ No, she was hiding behind them. She shook her head. ‘It’s up to me when I work on them. Actually, I was going to get some strawberries tomorrow. If your dad doesn’t mind, you can come with me to the shops and then we’ll make the ice cream. And if he’s not home when we’ve finished, maybe we can do some baking.’ Something Millie had loved doing. And Amy had missed that so, so much.
‘Can I, Daddy?’
‘I…’
Amy could see the doubt in his face. Well, of course: she was practically a stranger. Or was he worried that they were encroaching on her time? Was Perdy’s mother a high-flying career woman who was always too busy, never had enough time? She gave him a smile that felt just a bit too quivery. ‘As the saying goes, trust me, I’m a doctor.’
He still looked worried, but then nodded. ‘Thanks for the offer.’
Given what Perdy had just said, he didn’t exactly have any other options. ‘Look, I’ll give you my mobile number. If you give me yours,’ Amy said, ‘I can text you to let you know when we get to the strawberry fields and again when we’re back here.’
‘Right. Thank you.’ Tom looked slightly relieved, but still wary.
And Perdy’s eyes were full of worry.
Just what had happened to the two of them? Amy wondered. Despite the agreement she’d made with Tom, she needed to know—to make sure she didn’t make things worse for Perdy.
Later that evening, when Perdy had gone to bed, Tom came to find Amy in Joe’s study. ‘Thank you for what you did at dinner,’ he said. ‘I’ve met some of her classmates’ mums at the school gate and thought one of them, who seems very nice, might help out. But when she said she didn’t have any friends…’ He still felt sick at the memory. ‘I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say, how even to begin to comfort her.’ He sighed. ‘Oh, hell. I’ve made the wrong decision, bringing her here.’
‘Not necessarily—children are more resilient than you give them credit for.’
He frowned. ‘Were you a paediatrician? Child psychologist?’
‘No, I wasn’t. I’m talking from experience.’ She paused. ‘I’m trying to respect your boundaries, but there’s something I need to ask you.’
Yeah. And he knew what it was going to be. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, playing for time.
‘I need to know,’ she said, ‘which topics I need to avoid with Perdy. Anything that’s going to bring back bad memories or upset her. I’ll try to stick to neutral things—dogs and books and baking—but kids have a habit of coming out with stuff you’re really not expecting.’
Just like Amy herself had. And how come she sounded so clued up about kids? The way she’d acted the night before, Tom had thought that she was the type who concentrated on her career and avoided kids because she didn’t know how to deal with them. But today she’d offered to do things with Perdy that he knew his daughter would absolutely love—and the way she’d offered, it was as if it was something she was used to doing. ‘I’m trying to respect your boundaries,’ he said carefully, ‘but why did you offer to look after Perdy?’
‘Because I’m sharing a house with you, you’re clearly in a hole, and I can do something to help.’
He wasn’t buying that, and it obviously showed on her face, because she sighed. ‘OK. I was like Perdy when I was a kid. I was shy and booky and found it hard to make friends. I was lucky because I had Joe and Cassie and my cousins to help me make friends with the local kids, but she doesn’t have anyone her own age. And what goes around comes around, right?’
Tom was sure there was more to it than that, but it made
a kind of sense. This was her way of paying back kindnesses that people had done for her when she’d been young.
‘Look, if you want to ring Joe or Cassie and ask them if it’s safe to let me look after her, that’s fine by me.’
Tom blew out a breath. ‘Which makes me an over-pro-tective father.’
‘No. I’m not prying, but I’m guessing that you’re all each other has, and I’d be the same in your shoes. I’d need to know for sure that you weren’t unstable before I trusted you with my child.’ She took her mobile phone from the desktop and offered it to him.
Tom refused to take it. ‘So I’m going to ring the senior partner of the practice—the guy I’m standing in for—and ask him if his niece is trustworthy?’
‘It’s the only way you can be sure,’ she said. ‘Or ring Marty—I assume he’s acting head of the practice while Joe’s away?’
‘Yes, he is.’ Tom sighed. ‘I’m sorry. Given who you are, I know I should be able to take this on trust.’
‘But if something major happens in your life, you tend to lose your trust.’
That sounded personal—but asking her to elaborate would be pushing the boundaries, and in return he’d have to tell her about Eloise. Absolutely not. ‘I’ll call Marty,’ he said, taking his own phone out of his pocket.
Five minutes later, he ended the call, red-faced. ‘He sang your praises. And I feel a complete and utter heel.’
She shrugged. ‘If it was the other way round, I’d check you out before I let my child do anything with you.’
‘Thank you,’ Tom said. ‘For understanding. And for helping.’
‘Right now,’ she said, ‘I think you and Perdy could both do with a friend.’
‘Yeah.’ He could see the sadness in her eyes. And the dark shadows underneath them that told him she slept badly; whatever had made her take a sabbatical was clearly affecting her sleep, too. ‘And I think you could do with one, too.’
‘So are there any topics I need to avoid?’
The way she was avoiding answering his comment, he had a pretty good idea that she’d be good at evading anything. And Perdy never talked about Eloise, so there was no point in opening that particular can of worms. ‘No. And thank you.’
‘No worries.’
‘I’ll, um, let you get on,’ Tom said. If he stayed here much longer he’d be tempted to do something really foolish—like kiss her. And that, he thought, would lead to way too many complications. For both of them.
O
N
Saturday, Tom came back from the surgery to the scent of baking. Even when Eloise had been off duty, she hadn’t been one for domestic stuff; and he was surprised to discover how much he liked this. He closed the front door quietly behind him, and for once Buster didn’t skid across the floor to greet him. No doubt the dog was sitting patiently in the kitchen, waiting for treats.
Tom could hear Perdy and Amy talking in the kitchen as they worked and something twisted inside him. He couldn’t ever remember Eloise doing that with Amy; she was always too busy with her charity work to listen to her daughter’s jokes. But here was Amy, telling the most atrociously corny jokes, and making Perdy laugh. Perdy was chatting away, saying more words right at that moment than he’d heard her say in a week.
If he hadn’t heard it for himself, he would never have believed it. Was it because Perdy missed her mother desperately—even though she never talked about her—and needed someone female around to help bring her out of her shell again? Or was it because she recognised a kindred spirit in Amy—someone else who hadn’t fitted in that easily as a child?
Then he froze as he heard Perdy ask, ‘So were you the same sort of doctor as my dad is?’
‘A family doctor? No. I worked in a hospital,’ Amy said.
‘What sort of doctor were you?’
‘A neurosurgeon.’
Tom blinked. Well, that would explain why he’d thought Amy’s hands were delicate. To go with her equally delicate work.
‘Is that a brain surgeon?’ Perdy asked.
‘About a third of my work was inside people’s heads, yes, but I didn’t work just on people’s brains. “Neuro” means “nerves”,’ Amy explained, ‘so I used to do a lot of operations involving people’s spines and necks, where there are lots of nerves.’
Tom knew he really ought to walk straight in and distract Perdy, stop her grilling Amy, but her next words froze him to the spot.
‘My mum was a doctor, too. She was like the ones you see on telly, in the emergency room. Did you know my mum?’
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. He’d been so sure that Perdy never talked about Eloise. He shouldn’t have taken it for granted; why the hell hadn’t he put his pride to one side and warned Amy, given her an idea what to say if Perdy brought up the subject?
‘That depends where your mum works,’ Amy said lightly. ‘There are quite a few hospitals around.’
‘She worked at the London City General.’
‘I was at the London Victoria,’ Amy said. ‘And I didn’t work that much with the emergency department, so even if we had worked in the same hospital I probably wouldn’t have known her. Sorry.’
Did you know my mum?
Tom had a nasty feeling where that question would’ve
led if Amy’s answer had been yes. Had Eloise ever talked about her daughter at work, the way most people talked about their children?
He suspected not. Eloise would’ve talked more about her work for Doctors Without Borders, tried to encourage others to give their time and expertise to help those who needed aid so badly.
It was important work. Vital work. He knew that and he wasn’t for a moment putting her down for being so caring about the needs of people who had nothing.
But what about the needs of her own daughter?
He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive Eloise for that. For putting their child last when she was still so young and really needed her mother. For not being able to compromise.
‘Why do people need operations on their nerves?’ Perdy asked.
‘Because they’re in pain—often because there’s a lump pressing on their spinal cord or the nerves.’
‘So you have to get rid of the lump and make them better?’
‘I used to.’
‘Why don’t you do it now?’
Amy paused. ‘I stopped being good at my job. So that’s why I’m taking a break.’
Tom heard the bleakness in her voice, and guessed exactly what had happened. Amy had burned out. Maybe she’d lost a patient and couldn’t forgive herself for it.
So right now it seemed that she was in as dark a place as he was.
Part of him wanted to comfort her; yet part of him knew it would be a mistake. Too much of a risk. He didn’t want to open himself up to anyone again.
Then Buster barked once and bounded out of the kitchen towards him.
Should he admit that he’d just overheard the conversation? Then again, it would put Amy in a truly awkward position, where she’d feel obliged to explain more than she wanted to. He’d been there himself too often to do that to her. He walked into the kitchen with a smile that wasn’t entirely fake. ‘Hello. Something smells nice.’
‘Daddy!’ Perdy rushed towards him and hugged him. He hugged her right back: his precious little girl.
‘We made scones,’ she said proudly. ‘Amy, are they cool enough to eat yet?’
‘You tell me, Perdy. You’re nearest the rack. Remember how I showed you to check?’
The little girl put her hand just above the scones, near enough to feel the heat radiating from them but not actually touching the surface and risking a burn. ‘They’re still warm,’ she said.
‘Warm or hot?’
‘Warm,’ Perdy decided.
‘That’s the perfect time to eat them,’ Amy said. ‘You like scones, don’t you, Tom?’
Even if he’d hated them, he would’ve choked one down to please his little girl. ‘Love them,’ he said.
Amy spread her hands. ‘OK, Perdy, you’re in charge.’
Perdy made an elaborate fuss, putting butter and jam in dishes and laying the table with three plates, knives and napkins, then carefully put the scones on a plate and brought them over, gesturing to her father and Amy to sit down.
There was a huge lump in Tom’s throat. His daughter had never, but never, done anything like this before. And yet this felt so right.
‘Do you like them, Daddy?’ Perdy asked, as he took his first bite.
That wariness was back in her eyes. Fear that she
wouldn’t measure up. Yeah, and he knew where that came from. He’d seen enough of it in her mother’s eyes. ‘They’re fantastic,’ he said. ‘Gold-medal standard.’
Amy took a bite of hers. ‘I second that. You’ve made a fabulous job of these.’
Perdy actually glowed with pleasure.
And how little it had taken to make her do that. Half an hour or so of Amy’s time and attention, followed by a little praise.
Why hadn’t Eloise been able to do that?
He pushed the thought away, not wanting to spoil his own pleasure in the way his daughter was blossoming before his eyes.
‘Amy’s going to help me make some “unbirthday” cakes tomorrow,’ Perdy informed him. ‘So I can take them to school and it’ll give everyone something to talk to me about.’
‘If you don’t mind,’ Amy added hastily.
‘No, I don’t mind at all.’ Anything that would make his daughter smile and settle into their new life—anything that would help him break through to her—was fine with him. Even if Perdy grew attached to Amy, they all knew she was here only for the summer, not for ever, so it was safe to let Perdy befriend her. And maybe Amy could help him find a way of connecting with his daughter again.
Perdy was actually smiling when Tom saw her into the playground on Monday morning, carrying her ‘unbirthday’ cakes. And he knew exactly who he had to thank for that smile.
His surgery didn’t start for another twenty minutes; on impulse, he went back to Marsh End House. As he’d half expected, Amy was in Joe’s study.
‘Is everything OK?’ she asked from her desk.
‘Yes. Can I interrupt you for a quick word?’
‘Sure.’
He walked over to the desk. ‘I just wanted to say thanks for all you’ve done with Perdy this weekend. She actually looked happy going in to school today.’
‘Give her time. It’s always hard to find your place when you’re new,’Amy said. ‘And if there are some after-school clubs, they’ll help her meet people and make friends, too.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Tom said. He paused. ‘Um, I overheard her talking to you on Saturday. I’m sorry she grilled you.’
Amy shrugged. ‘She asked. I’m not going to lie to her. But I’m also not going to dump stuff on her that’s beyond her years, if that’s what you’re worrying about.’
‘No, I didn’t think you’d do that. It’s just…if you ever want to talk about it,’ he offered, ‘you know where I am.’
‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’
He didn’t believe a word of it.
Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes widened. ‘What was that for?’
Because I needed to kiss you.
‘For caring. And for listening to my little girl and hearing stuff I couldn’t.’
‘I…’ He could see that she was looking at his mouth. Just as he was looking at hers, wondering how soft her lips were, how she would taste. He found himself swaying towards her slightly, at the same time as she swayed slightly towards him. The next thing he knew, his mouth was brushing against hers, and the light contact made his lips tingle.
He should stop. He knew he really should stop. For both their sakes.
So why did he catch her lower lip between his? Why were her fingers sliding through his hair? Why was her mouth opening beneath his, letting him deepen the kiss?
Time seemed to stop. All he was aware of was the light floral scent she wore, the warmth and softness of her skin against his, the way she was kissing him back.
It had been so long, so long since he’d last felt this attracted to someone. Hunger bubbled through his veins, melting away his common sense and urging him to take this further. Somehow—he really wasn’t sure how—he was sitting on the top of the desk in front of her and she was standing between his thighs. His hands were resting against her hips and his fingers were starting to slide beneath the hem of her T-shirt; her fingers were still threaded through his hair and she was kissing him back, a heady mix of desire and sweetness.
When he finally broke the kiss, it took him a while to realise where he was. Then he looked at Amy. Her pupils were huge, her mouth was reddened and slightly swollen, and embarrassment stained her cheeks.
Guilt flooded through him. What the hell had he been thinking? ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I was there, too.’
His hands were still at her waist and hers were still round his neck. It would be, oh, so easy to lower his mouth to hers again. All he had to do was dip his head slightly…
Tempting. So, so tempting. And so, so wrong. He dragged in a breath. ‘Even so, I shouldn’t have done it.’ Although Amy had travelled to Norfolk on her own and wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, that didn’t mean she was single. ‘It isn’t fair to your partner.’
‘I don’t have a partner,’ she said quietly, ‘so it isn’t a problem.’
Oh. So she was single. Available.
Possibilities bloomed in his head. And then his common sense wilted them again. Amy might be single, but it didn’t
mean that she wanted to get involved with anyone. Right now, he needed to concentrate on his daughter, and keeping her life on an even keel after all the upheaval of the last few months. Besides, Amy herself had admitted that she was in a difficult place right now.
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t a good idea for either of us. Too many complications.’
‘You’re right. Absolutely,’ she agreed.
He needed to take his hands off her. Now. But his body wasn’t working in synch with his brain; his hands stayed exactly where they were, just under the hem of her T-shirt, touching warm, soft skin.
With an effort, he released her; a fraction of a second later, she took her hands away from his neck and took a step back.
‘I have to go,’ he said. Not because he was being a coward. ‘I’m due at the surgery.’
She nodded.
He really had to stop looking at her mouth. And kissing her had been a seriously bad idea, because now he knew what it was like to hold her close—and he wanted more. Much more.
‘See you later,’ he said, and left.
Amy sank back into her chair, propped her elbows on the desk where Tom had been sitting and rested her chin on her hands. What on earth had she been thinking, kissing him back like that? True, she hadn’t felt a pull of attraction like this for a very long time, but Tom Ashby was the worst person that she could possibly have a fling with. Apart from the fact that he’d had a rough time recently and needed someone stable in his life—someone who definitely wasn’t her, because right now her head was all over the place—he was also a single father. And
her experience with Colin had taught her that that was a minefield.
She blew out a breath. On Thursday she’d been so clear about it: don’t get involved. And then what had she done? Spent the weekend with them. She’d baked with Perdy, just the way she once had with Millie. Enjoyed watching some of the shadows fade from Perdy’s and Tom’s faces.
She’d got involved.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
And yet how could she possibly have stood by and watched them struggle? Perdy’s little face on Friday night when she’d said that she had no friends, the distress in Tom’s eyes and that lost look on both their faces…No way could Amy have turned her back on them.
But no way could she let herself get any more deeply involved than this.
For the last ten years, work had been everything to her, so the wreckage of her career had left a huge hole in her life. It really wasn’t fair to Tom to use him to fill that gap.
If she could catch him later in the day, before Perdy came home, she’d talk to him about it. Explain to him that this morning had been an aberration for both of them—that neither of them was in a position to do anything about the attraction between them right now, and they were both adults so they should be able to treat each other as if they were colleagues.
She damped down the flicker of desire, opened the first of Joseph’s casebooks and began to transcribe its contents.
‘I really can’t handle any more of the pain, Doctor,’ Mrs Cooper whispered. ‘The drugs just aren’t working.’
Tom checked her notes. Mrs Cooper had been complaining of severe pain on the right side of her face, in her
cheek, teeth and gums. The dentist had taken X-rays and said the pain wasn’t caused by a dental problem, and Joe Rivers had diagnosed trigeminal neuralgia six weeks ago: a condition where the sheath protecting the nerve became damaged, so the lightest touch caused the nerve to send messages of severe pain to the brain.