Neurosurgeon...and Mum! (10 page)

He talked her through what he was doing and why, acting on a hunch that she’d enjoy the medical terminology. And then he looked at the reading. ‘It’s absolutely fine,’ he said, and talked her through the readings.

‘So my heart isn’t going too fast?’

‘No, but when you’re worried your heart rate tends to speed up,’ he said. ‘So I believe you absolutely when you said that your heart rate was too fast this morning.’

‘And I do cough all the time.’ She coughed then and there, as if to prove it.

‘Can I get you to breathe into this tube for me?’ he asked, taking out a peak flow meter. ‘What I want you to do is to take a deep breath, and then blow out as hard as you can through this tube.’

She did so, and handed the tube back to him.

‘For your age and height,’ he said, ‘you should be able to produce more. Given that you have a cough and you’re wheezing…Do you have any tightness in your chest?’

‘Well, yes. Sometimes.’

‘Does anyone in your family have asthma, hay fever or eczema—or any other allergies?’

Miss Jacklin frowned. ‘I had eczema when I was small. You think I have asthma?’

‘With the symptoms you’re describing, yes. Sometimes adults develop it.’

‘Even at my age?’

‘Or older than you,’ he said, ‘and it tends to go hand in hand with eczema and hay fever. I can give you an inhaler which will help stop you coughing and make breathing easier. You’ll need two types—the reliever inhaler, which you use when you’re having symptoms, and the preventer inhaler, which you use every single day.’ He showed her how to use the inhalers. ‘I’m going to want you to keep a diary for me over the next week to ten days, so I know when you’ve used your inhaler and when you’ve had symptoms. That will help me find the right dose for you to control the asthma.’

‘So it’s asthma?’

‘I’m pretty sure it is,’ Tom said, ‘given what you’ve told me. You’re right, the symptoms are similar to other conditions and that can make asthma hard to diagnose in adults—but the good news is that the other tests I did ruled out a heart condition. We have a special asthma clinic here, so you can make an appointment and see the nurse any time you’re worried.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘And, forgive me for being rude, you do need to lose some weight. That will help with the other symptoms you told me about.’

‘My feet were really swollen this morning. I could hardly get my shoes on,’ she said.

‘It’s been hot and humid lately,’ he said gently, ‘and lots of other people find the same thing in these weather conditions. Especially if they need to lose a bit of weight. Can I ask what your exercise routine is?’

‘I don’t have one. I told you, I have poor exercise tolerance. I get too breathless.’

‘Part of that’s because you’re unfit, and the breathless-ness is because of your asthma,’ he said. ‘Asthma can be brought on by exercise, and I’m not for a moment suggesting that you should take up running, but what I’d like you to do is start walking gently. Ten minutes, three times a day. If you’ve got a neighbour who has a dog, ask if you can go along for the walk. Or if there’s a “walking for health” scheme here, try that—it’s a great way of getting fresh air and making new friends.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’ll be tough, the first few times, but you’d be surprised at how quickly it starts to make you feel better. The fitter you are, the better your heart works and the better your lungs work. It’ll help your breathing, bring your heart rate down, get your muscles working and help you lose weight.’

‘I see. Well, I’m sorry I wasted your time, Doctor.’

She looked almost about to cry. ‘Miss Jacklin, you haven’t wasted my time,’ he reassured her. ‘You’re worried about your health, and that’s what I’m here for—to listen to you, check your symptoms and see what’s going on.’

‘I bet you’ve got it written on my notes—that I’m always here and I’m a nuisance.’

‘Nothing of the kind,’ he said, ‘and you’re welcome to see for yourself.’ He indicated the screen. ‘But if you do come here a lot, my guess is that you’re not telling us what you’re really worried about and you’re hoping we’ll notice.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m a good listener.’ Amy had shown him that, earlier. ‘Try me.’

She bit her lip. ‘It’s just…I was the one who never got married, so I looked after my mum. And since she died, the year before last, I’ve been on my own. My brothers have got their own lives—there’s no room for me. I don’t make friends easily. And I get so lonely.’

Mmm. He knew a little girl like that. And a woman who’d helped make it better. A woman who believed that what goes around comes around. Tom reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘So you come here?’

She nodded. ‘I know it’s wrong and I know everyone laughs at me and thinks I’m a silly old woman, panicking over nothing.’

‘Miss Jacklin, I’m not laughing at you,’ Tom said. ‘Loneliness is a horrible thing. And if you’ve been a carer for so long…it’s hard when you stop being needed.’

She gulped. ‘I miss her. I know she was bit of a curmudgeon, but I miss her.’

‘Of course you do.’ Tom looked at her. ‘Did you have any bereavement counselling when she died?’

‘No.’

‘Some people find it helps. I can refer you, if you’d like me to.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve already taken enough of your time.’

He’d diagnosed her physical illness, but he still needed to deal with the emotional gap—the thing that kept Betty Jacklin reading her medical textbook and seeing symptoms in herself. And he had a feeling that he knew what could help her fill that gap. ‘Did you used to read to your mum?’ Tom asked.

‘Yes—she couldn’t see the telly very well, so it annoyed her. I used to read to her all the time.’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

She nodded.

‘Forgive me for being pushy, but have you thought about offering your services to the local nursing home? I bet there are residents there who are just like your mum—they can’t see well enough to read for themselves and would love to have someone reading to them so they can enjoy books again,’ Tom suggested. ‘And you’d get to meet people that way, too.’

‘They’d laugh at me.’

‘Absolutely not. I think they’d be delighted and they’d take you up on the offer like a shot—and you’d be making a real difference to people’s lives. Would you like me to make some enquiries for you?’

She shook her head. ‘You’re busy, Doctor.’

‘I’m here,’ he said, ‘to help my patients. Which includes you.’

A tear brimmed over. ‘That’s so kind…’

‘What goes around comes around,’ Tom said gently, quoting Amy’s favourite phrase. Amy had shown him kindness that morning. It was his turn to pass it on. And he knew that there would still be enough left for him to support Amy the way she’d supported him.

When Tom returned to Marsh End House—more than ten minutes late—Amy’s eyes were still red and swollen, and he knew she’d spent the morning crying. It was something she’d really needed to do; he had the feeling that she’d locked all her grief and misery inside until today.

He wrapped his arms round her and they stood there, just holding each other.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said.

‘Joe’s surgeries always overrun,’ she said. ‘Cassie said you should never set your watch by a good GP, because they always put their patients first instead of thinking of beating the time targets.’

‘That was a compliment—I think.’ He smiled at her. ‘Give me two minutes to change into something more suitable for the beach, and we’ll go.’

‘Sure.’ She gave him a tentative smile. ‘So did you have a good morning?’

‘Great,’ he said. ‘You know those days when you think you might just have made a breakthrough?’

She swallowed hard. ‘I used to.’

‘And you will again,’ he reassured her. ‘I had one of those today. And it’s thanks to you.’

She frowned. ‘How do you work that one out?’

‘Because you listened to me. And you reminded me how important it is to listen. I listened to one of my patients, today, so I worked out what she wasn’t telling me.’

‘What the real problem was, you mean,’ she said.

‘Absolutely. And I think I might have a solution, too. I need to pick your brains about that, later.’

She looked wary. ‘Is this to do with neurology?’

‘No, it’s to do with the local area. Which you know better than I do. Nursing homes.’

‘Nursing homes?’ she echoed, sounding completely at a loss.

‘Tell you in a minute.’ Tom ran upstairs, dragged his suit off, changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and ran back downstairs.

Buster wagged his tail hopefully when Tom reappeared in the kitchen, and Tom made a fuss of him. ‘Later. Promise,’ he said, and Buster curled up in his bed, propped his chin on his paws and looked mournfully at him.

‘I keep my promises and you know it, so don’t you try and tell me you’re a poor, sad, hard-done-by dog,’ Tom said with a grin.

He shepherded Amy out to his car and drove them slightly further down the coast.

‘So what’s this about nursing homes?’

‘I just wondered where they were. I haven’t done any calls to one yet. I know someone who’s a little bit lonely, and I think if she does some voluntary work—reading to elderly people who love books but it’s too tough on their eyesight—it’ll do wonders for her self-esteem, and it’ll get her out of the house and give her an interest in life.’

‘That’s your breakthrough?’

‘Yup. Can’t say any more—patient confidentiality—but I hope everyone in the village will give her a chance. And it’s a shame nobody picked up the root of the problem before.’

‘Sometimes it’s hard to see what’s right in front of your nose,’ Amy said.

He reached across to squeeze her hand. ‘I’ll remind you that you said that later. And you’re right. It’s easy to take things for granted.’

The beach was practically deserted—there were only a couple of dog-walkers—and they both took their shoes off and rolled up jeans and walked on the shoreline, hand in hand. The sea was incredibly calm, the waves lapping gently over their feet. ‘This is like that music you were playing the other night,’ he said.

‘This coastline is my favourite place in the world, and that music reminds me of it,’ she explained.

They walked until Tom’s stomach rumbled. ‘Ah. I have a confession. I forgot about the picnic,’ he said.

‘So did I,’ Amy said.

‘Never mind. We can get something from the shop on the harbour.’

‘Crab sandwiches,’ Amy said. ‘Cromer crabs are the best in the world. And you can’t be on this part of the coast and not try them.’

The kiosk at the harbour furnished them with crab salad wraps and chilled sparkling water; they leaned on the bonnet of Tom’s car and watched the ships in the harbour as they ate.

‘Seal trips,’ Tom said, nodding at the sign. ‘Have you ever been on one?’

‘Years ago—I was probably about twelve,’ Amy said. ‘Perdy’d love it.’

‘Then we’ll go, one weekend,’ Tom said. He paused. ‘Amy, I’m not going to put any pressure on you. I’m the worst person in the world you could fall for—a single father who’s struggling to do the right thing. I have no idea where this is going, and I know that neither of us is in a position to promise each other for ever. But I do think we can make each other feel better, for as long as we’re both here.’

‘And it’s just between you and me,’ Amy said. ‘Not that you’re my dirty little secret or I’m yours—just that it’s easier that way. It avoids all the gossip and it’ll make sure Perdy doesn’t get hurt.’

‘Deal.’ Tom kissed her, very slowly. ‘Though there’s something I need to get on the way home.’

‘Something?’

‘Supplies,’ he said, and enjoyed wathching the colour rise in her face when she realised what he meant.

He left her in the car while he went to the supermarket, and returned carrying a huge bar of chocolate, which he dropped on her lap.

‘Chocolate?’ She blinked, looking surprised.

He grinned. ‘I needed something to put on top of a certain box at the checkout.’

She grinned back. ‘Anyone would think we were teenagers.’

‘Instead of being about to hit our mid-thirties and the quick slide to our forties,’ he teased.

‘Way over the hill,’ she teased back.

He stole a kiss. ‘Well, I happen to know the secret of youth.’

‘Oh, yes?’

He kissed her again. ‘I’ll show you. But not until a lot later this evening. Or maybe tomorrow afternoon.’

She stroked his face and smiled. ‘Consider that a date, Dr Ashby.’

I
T
turned out to be the following afternoon. Tom managed to clear his mind and concentrate on his patients for morning surgery, but as soon as he set off for Marsh End House—back to Amy—he felt as if his blood was slowly heating in his veins.

And, weirdly, he was nervous.

This was mad, because they’d agreed to have an affair. A no-strings affair where neither of them was going to get hurt. This was completely mutual. A joint decision. He knew they both wanted this.

And yet he felt like a teenager on his first date.

How long had it been since he’d felt like this?

How long since he’d felt that heady anticipation of seeing a certain someone smile at him, and knowing that soon those lips would be teasing his? How long since he’d really looked forward to seeing someone simply because he enjoyed her company? How long since he’d trusted anyone enough to really talk to them, the way he’d talked to Amy?

He dropped his bag in the hallway then went in search of Amy. He’d half-expected to find her in the kitchen, or reading in the conservatory, but when Buster came bounding
in from the garden it gave him a clue. He found her at the bottom of the garden, weeding Cassie’s herbs.

‘Hey.’ He crouched down so that he was on her level, and eyed the pile in the wheelbarrow. ‘Looks as if you’ve been busy.’

‘I have. And I’ve discovered that I actually like gardening.’ She smiled at him. ‘When I get back to London, I might just invest in some pots for my patio and grow a few things.’

When I get back to London.

Of course he knew that she was going back at some point in the future. She’d never pretended otherwise. But it was a reminder: don’t get attached. Don’t let himself fall for her.

‘Had a good morning?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’ This was supposed to be the easy bit. Where he kissed her hello, she kissed him back, and he led her upstairs so he could kiss her exactly where he wanted to kiss her without fears of being overlooked or interrupted.

‘Tom, are you OK?’ she asked, looking concerned.

‘Yes.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘No. I’m not used to this, Amy. I feel like a teenager, awkward as hell and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.’

She removed her gloves. ‘If it helps, it’s the same for me.’

‘I got together with Eloise when I was nineteen. We’d known each other a year.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘I can’t even remember how you’re supposed to act when you first…’ He couldn’t think how to phrase it without it sounding insulting.

‘First start having an affair with someone?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘Are are you sure you’re ready for this?’

‘Yes and no. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’m not still in love with Eloise. If I’m honest about it, we’d been growing apart for months before she went away for the last
time.’ He sighed. ‘I think that’s part of the reason why I felt so guilty. I found it hard to mourn her because I’d already started getting used to the idea of her not being around.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, that makes me sound hard.’

‘No, you’re being honest.’

‘What about you? Are you ready for this?’

‘I’m not still in love with Colin, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘But you haven’t got involved with anyone else since.’

‘I was too busy at work.’

He arched an eyebrow at her.

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘OK. So I used work to fill the gap. And then it became a habit, I guess. It was easier to concentrate on my work than take a risk on a relationship.’ And now work had left a hole in her life. ‘But I’m not using you to fill the gap left by work, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘I know you’re not. The same as I’m not using you to fill the gap in my life.’ He paused. ‘The first time between you and me—we didn’t plan it. It took us both by surprise. That’s why it felt as if I’d been unfaithful to her. But this time it’s going to be different.’

She smiled at him. ‘Tom Ashby, are you telling me that you’re planning to seduce me?’

The teasing note in her voice gave him confidence. ‘I seem to remember we have a date, Amy Rivers—even though I’m not actually taking you anywhere.’

She grinned. ‘At least you’re sparing me cheesy lines about taking me to paradise.’

He gave a hollow laughed. ‘I’m out of practice and this is early days. Of course it’s not going to be perfect. I haven’t found out where you like being touched, where you like being kissed, what makes you go incoherent. But.’

Her eyes glittered with what he really, really hoped was desire. ‘But?’

‘I plan to,’ he said, standing up. ‘Starting now.’

She removed her gardening gloves and let him draw her to her feet.

And then he was kissing her under the trees at the bottom of the garden, with sunlight dappling through the leaves, birdsong filling the air, and the scent of blooming honeysuckle everywhere. He knew then he’d always associate those sounds and scents with Amy.

They walked indoors, holding hands, and he led her to his room.

Then he closed the door, drew the curtains, and turned to look at her, suddenly feeling out of his depth.

She was smiling. ‘You look fabulous in a suit, Dr Ashby—but I also know you look fabulous out of it.’ Her smile broadened. ‘And I want to enjoy taking your clothes off.’

That smile did crazy things to his insides. ‘I’m in your hands,’ he said softly.

‘Good.’ She slid his jacket from his shoulders then hung it over the back of his chair. Slowly, she undid the buckle of his belt and excitement licked through his veins. By the time she’d lowered the zipper of his trousers, he was finding it hard to breathe normally, anticipating the moment when she’d touch his bare skin.

He heeled off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers, prepared to leave them where they were on the floor—but Amy scooped them up, smoothed out the creases and hung them over his jacket.

‘What’s this, you’re a neat freak?’ he teased.

‘Control freak. I can do untidy when it suits me,’ she said with a grin.

She undid his tie, carefully smoothing the creases out, and he realised what she was doing.

Making him wait.

Teasing him.

So that when she eventually touched him, it would blow his mind.

‘Slow and easy, hmm?’ he asked.

‘Yup.’ She moistened her lower lip, and desire kicked low in his stomach.

And then—at last—she started unbuttoning his shirt. He shivered as she pushed the soft cotton aside and flattened her palms against his chest. ‘Nice pecs, Dr Ashby.’

Her voice was that little bit lower and huskier, and he knew this was affecting her just the same way.

She slid his shirt from his shoulders, again smoothing out the material and hanging it over his chair.

And then she took the waistband of his soft jockey shorts and drew them downwards.

Really, really slowly. By the time he’d stepped out of them and got rid of his socks, he was quivering, his whole body yearning for her to touch him more intimately.

‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?’ he asked hoarsely.

She curled her fingers round his erection and looked very pleased with herself. ‘Exactly what I planned to do.’

‘What’s sauce for the goose…’ He took the hem of her T-shirt between thumb and forefinger and slowly lifted it up. She lifted her hands above her head, letting him take off the T-shirt—and he dropped it on the floor.

‘Hey, now that’s not fair—I left your clothes neat and tidy,’ she protested.

He grinned. ‘I’m less patient than you are.’ He traced a forefinger along the lacy edges of her bra. ‘You feel good,
Amy. So soft. I want to touch you. Taste you.’ He unsnapped her bra and let her breasts spill into his hands, teasing her hardening nipples with his thumbs. ‘Gorgeous. You’ve filled out a bit.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you saying I’m fat?’

‘No, I’m saying you were too thin when I first met you, but a month here has changed you.’ He traced the curve of her cheekbones with the tip of his forefinger. ‘You’ve lost some of the shadows under your eyes.’

‘I’m sleeping better now. Not so many bad dreams,’ she admitted. ‘And talking to you about all the stuff I’d kept inside…it’s helped. A lot.’

‘Good. You helped me, too.’ He let his hands slide down her body to her waist, and undid her jeans, pushing the faded denim down over her hips. ‘You’re all curves, your skin’s so soft, and I find it really difficult to keep my hands off you—oh, and have I told you that your mouth is really, really sexy?’

‘No, but I’m glad to hear it.’ She rubbed the pad of her thumb along his lower lip. ‘So’s yours.’

He caught her thumb between his lips, drew it into his mouth and sucked, delighted when her pupils darkened.

‘I’ll tell you something else that’s sexy,’ she said. ‘Your glasses.’

‘My glasses?’ He blinked. ‘How?’

‘They make you look like a geek.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘A geek? I thought geeks had no social skills?’

‘No, that’s a nerd,’ Amy corrected him. ‘Geeky is the new sexy. Clever men are hot.’

‘And you’re telling me because…?’

‘Oh, that’s the most outrageous fishing for a compliment I’ve ever heard.’ She laughed. ‘All right, Dr Ashby. You’re clever—and you’re hot. Especially in those glasses.’

He laughed back. ‘Well, I’m afraid I need to take them off—because they’re going to get in the way of what I want to do to you.’

‘Sounds interesting.’

‘It will be.’

‘Let me,’ she said, gently lifting the frames from his face; she placed them carefully on his bedside cabinet.

Tom cupped her face between his hands and kissed her, gently at first and then more fiercely as she opened her mouth beneath his, letting him deepen the kiss.

It was the work of seconds to finish removing the rest of her clothes; then he pushed his duvet aside, picked her up and dropped her on the bed.

‘What was that for?’ she asked, laughing up at him.

‘Just to let you know that I have a Neanderthal side.’

‘I’d noticed. What happened to slow and easy?’

‘A little variation’s a good thing. But if you want me to take it slowly…’ He stooped to kiss her lightly, and then kissed his way down her body, noting what made her wriggle and push herself against him, and what drew little murmurs of delight from her. He took his time, covering every centimetre of skin, from the hollows of her collarbones down to the soft underside of her breasts, her hipbones and her navel.

When she parted her legs in silent assent, inviting him to touch her more intimately, he retreated to the foot of the bed.

She opened her eyes. ‘Tom?’

‘Slowly, you said.’ He kissed the hollow of her ankle, and she quivered.

‘You’re teasing me,’ she protested.

‘No. I’m seducing you, Amy,’ he corrected softly, and took a slow, gentle path up to the backs of her knees. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was clearly
having trouble concentrating. And the first glide of his finger down her sex had her arching almost off the bed.

He pushed one finger inside her, and she whimpered.

When he touched the tip of his tongue to her clitoris, she slid her hands into his hair. ‘Tom, I can’t hold on much longer.’

That was the whole idea, he thought with an inward grin. He wanted her to lose control with him. Completely.

He teased her with his mouth and his fingers until he felt her tense, and then he felt her shudder and her body tightening around him. When the little aftershocks of her climax had died down, he shifted up the bed next to her. ‘Better?’

‘Uh. Yes. Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘Good. Because I don’t think I can do slow right now,’ he said. ‘I want you
now
, Amy.’

Her mouth opened in a little sigh of assent and pleasure, and he rummaged in the drawer for the box of condoms. He opened the packet, his hands shaking slightly; and then at last he was kneeling between her thighs. Right where he wanted to be.

She reached up to touch his face, encouraging him, and he fitted the tip of his penis to her entrance.

‘Tom,’ she whispered, and he was lost. He eased into her, pushing deep, and she shuddered. ‘Tom, yes.’

She met him kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust. As she arched up against him, tipping her head back, he took the opportunity to kiss her throat. He could feel her pulse thudding hard against his tongue; clearly he was having the same effect on her as she was on him. Needed this. Wanted this.

He pushed deeper, and she wrapped her legs round his waist, pulling him closer.

Time felt as if it were splintering, and then he was falling,
falling—and taking her with him, because he heard her cry out his name at the exact moment that his climax hit.

When he’d dealt with the condom, he came back to bed, drawing her into his arms so her head rested against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable. Drowsy. He would’ve liked to fall asleep in her arms, but it wasn’t an option—not with the school run due. He sneaked a glance over the top of her head at his clock. Good. They didn’t have to move yet.

He stroked her hair. ‘I love your hair,’ he said softly.

‘You do?’ She sounded surprised.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘I thought men were supposed to like long hair.’

Interesting. So had she chopped her hair because it had been long when she’d been engaged to Colin? Though the look in her eyes warned him not to ask. ‘It makes you look cute. Like Tinkerbell.’

‘Tinkerbell?’ She blinked. ‘So what does that make you? Peter Pan or Captain Hook?’

He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Amy Rivers, do I detect a pirate fantasy?’

She grinned. ‘Maybe.’

‘I can swagger and roll my Rs. The hat might be a problem, though.’

‘Pity. But, just so you know, I was thinking Captain Sparrow rather than Captain Hook.’

He laughed. ‘That’s easily sorted. Lend me your eyeliner and imagine the hat.’

She laughed back. ‘And you’d grow your hair long, would you?’

‘You like men with long hair?’ he asked, surprised. He’d expected her to go for someone in a sharp suit.

‘My teenage crushes were all on rock stars,’ she admitted.