St Piran's: The Fireman and Nurse Loveday (3 page)

He’d showered and changed; out of his uniform, and with his face no longer covered by a mask and soot, Tom Nicholson was breathtakingly handsome. When he smiled at her, her heart actually skipped a beat.

Which was ridiculous, because he was way,
way
out of her league. He probably had a girlfriend already; though, even if he didn’t, Flora knew he wouldn’t look twice at her. Looking the way he did, and doing the job he did, Tom was probably used to scores of much more attractive women falling in a heap at his feet. He wouldn’t be interested in a shy, plump nurse who spent most of her time looking like a beetroot.

‘He’s absolutely sound asleep,’ Tom whispered, looking
down at his nephew, who was lying on the beanbag with a fleecy blanket tucked round him.

‘It’s been a long day for him—and a scary one.’ She glanced at Tom. ‘Um, I’ve already fed him. I hope that’s OK.’

‘That’s great. Thanks for being so kind,’ Tom said.

‘I could hardly let him starve.’ Flora shrugged it off. ‘Poor little lad. He’s had a lot to cope with, losing both his parents. I know what that’s like.’ She’d had to face losing both her parents, the previous year, so she had an idea what he was going through—though, being twenty years older than Joey, at least she’d had an adult’s perspective to help her cope. She looked more closely at Tom and saw the lines of strain around his eyes. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘Once the immediate danger’s passed, the real work starts—making sure we keep the site damped down so the fire doesn’t flare up again.’ Tom grimaced. ‘Sorry I’ve been so long. And I took time out for a shower, because if I turned up covered in smuts and stinking of smoke it might scare Joey. ‘

He’d put his nephew first; and no doubt the shower had been at the expense of taking time to grab a meal. It was good that he could put Joey first, but the poor man must be starving as well as tired. And if she made him something to eat, she could keep herself busy doing something practical—which was a lot easier than sitting down and having a conversation where she’d end up blushing and stumbling over her words and getting flustered. She’d learned the hard way that being practical and doing something was the best way of dealing with her hated shyness. ‘He’s perfectly safe and comfortable where he is, so why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a hot drink and something to eat?’ Flora asked.

‘I can’t impose on you like that.’

‘You’re not imposing. I made a big batch of spaghetti sauce this afternoon. It won’t take long to heat it through and cook some pasta—that’s what Joey and I had.’

‘Thank you.’

The next thing Tom knew, he was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him and Flora was pottering round the kitchen.

The kindness of a stranger. Tom was used to women offering to cook him things—it was a standing joke at the fire station that, almost every day, someone dropped by with a tin of home-made cookies or cakes or muffins for Tom. Old ladies whose cats he’d rescued, young mums whose toddlers he’d got out of a locked bathroom—and even the hard-nosed local reporter had seen him in action, rescuing someone from a burning building, and had joined what his crew-mates teasingly called the Tom Nicholson Fan Club, turning up with a batch of cookies for him on more than one occasion.

Even though he’d explained gently that he was simply doing his job, he could hardly be rude enough to turn away things that people had spent time making personally for him. So he accepted them with a smile on behalf of the fire crew, wrote thank-you notes—again on behalf of the entire fire crew—and secretly rather enjoyed them making a fuss over him.

But Flora Loveday was different.

There was something about her—a kind of inner peace and strength that drew him. Here, on her home ground, she glowed. He’d been too frantic with worry about Joey to notice properly earlier, but she was beautiful. Soft, gentle brown eyes; her hair, too, was soft, all ruffled and curly and cute. And the warmth she exuded made him want to hold her close, feel some of that warmth seeping into him and taking the chill of the fear away…

And then he realised what he was thinking and slammed the brakes on. Yes, he found her attractive—dangerously so—but he couldn’t act on it. In his job, it wasn’t fair to have a serious relationship with someone. He worked crazy hours and did dangerous things; he’d seen too many friends die and
leave families behind. And there was Joey to consider, too. He’d had too many changes in his young life, just recently. The last thing he needed was his uncle being distracted by a new girlfriend.

But Tom also knew that he could do with a friend. Flora was the first person who’d seemed to understand or who had managed to start to reach Joey. And he really, really needed help reaching his nephew.

‘So what have you and Joey been up to?’ he asked.

‘I took him to see the chickens.’

‘Chickens?’ He hadn’t expected that.

She went pink again. ‘My dad started Loveday Eggs.’

He’d seen their boxes in the shops. ‘So you have chickens here?’

She nodded. ‘The hens are free range, so we went and collected some eggs. And then we made some brownies.’ She smiled. ‘There are some left. But not that many.’ She placed a bowl of pasta in front of him.

‘This smells amazing. Thank you.’ He took a mouthful. ‘Wow. And it tastes even better than it smells.’

‘It’s only boring old spaghetti and sauce.’ She looked away.

‘It’s wonderful.’ He ate the lot and accepted a second bowl. And then he grimaced. ‘Sorry. I’ve just been horribly greedy.’

‘You’ve just spent hours sorting out a fire. You must’ve been starving.’

‘I was,’ he admitted. And then he accepted her offer of helping himself to the brownies. ‘Wow. These are seriously good. And you made them with Joey?’

She fished her mobile phone out of her handbag, fiddled with it and then handed it to him. There was a picture of Joey, wearing a tea-towel as a makeshift apron, stirring the
chocolatey mixture in a big bowl—and there was almost as much chocolate round his face.

And he looked happy.

Tom couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he gulped in a breath. ‘I didn’t know Joey liked cooking.’

‘Most kids love messy stuff,’ she explained, her colour deepening. ‘And cooking’s better still because they get to eat what they make.’

In one afternoon, she seemed to have got far closer to his nephew than he’d managed in a month. And he knew he needed help. Flora might be the one to help him reach Joey—and there was just something about her that made Tom sure that she wouldn’t judge him harshly. ‘It never even occurred to me to try doing something like that with Joey.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. I’m always the one sent on school visits, but I just don’t seem to be able to connect with Joey—and I’m his uncle. Everything I suggest us doing, he just stares at me and says nothing. I can’t reach him any more. I feel…’ He shook his head, grimacing. ‘Hopeless. Helpless. I don’t even know where to start.’

‘Give it time,’ she said. ‘It’s only been a month since the accident—and he was one of the quieter ones in the school even before then.’

Tom blinked in surprise. ‘So you work at the school? I thought you said Nick Tremayne was your boss?’

‘He is, but I’m the school liaison,’ she explained.

‘So you visit the local schools?’

She nodded. ‘I spend half my time at the local nursery and schools, and half my time at the practice. I do a health visitor clinic at the primary school for mums one morning a week, a clinic at the high school, and I do the vaccinations and preschool health checks in the nursery. Plus I take the personal development classes—I get the little ones thinking
about healthy eating and exercise and how they can get five a day, and how they can look after their teeth properly.’

It was the most he’d heard her say in one go, and she looked animated; clearly she loved her job and felt comfortable talking about it. ‘So I take it you like your job? ‘

She smiled. ‘I love it.’

Just as he loved his: something else they had in common. Tom paused, remembering what she’d said when he’d first walked in. ‘I’m sorry about your parents.’

‘And I’m sorry about your sister.’ She bit her lip, looking awkward. ‘I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed nice.’

‘She was. My big sister.’ Tom sighed. ‘And I feel worse because I was meant to go to France with her, Kevin and Joey to see our parents for New Year and I bailed out. Maybe if I’d been driving the crash wouldn’t have happened.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Flora said. ‘And think of it another way—if you
had
been in the crash, Joey might’ve been left without anyone at all.’

‘Mum and Dad would’ve stepped in to help, but they’re nearly seventy now, and it’s not fair to drag them back to England and make them run around after a little one. Dad’s arthritis really gives him gyp.’ He rubbed his hand across his forehead, but the tight band of tension refused to shift. ‘I loved spending time with Joey when Susie was alive—I used to see them most weekends. I’ve always tried to be a good uncle and we used to have fun—but since the accident he’s just put all these barriers up and I don’t know how to get them down again.’

‘Give it time,’ she said again, her voice kind.

‘Did he talk to you this afternoon?’

‘A bit. He was a little shy.’ She shrugged and looked away. ‘But so am I, so that’s OK.’

And that was one of the reasons why Flora seemed to
understand Joey better than he did: she knew what it was like to be shy, and Tom never had. And he couldn’t help wondering what Flora was like when she wasn’t shy. He knew she was practical and kind—but what did she look like when she laughed?

Or when she’d just been thoroughly kissed?

Oh, for pity’s sake, he really needed to keep his libido under control.

Luckily his thoughts weren’t showing on his face, because Flora continued, ‘I read him some stories after we’d eaten—he chose them from the box I take to clinic—and then he fell asleep on the beanbag.’

‘Bless him.’ Tom bit his lip. ‘I think he’s had a better time with you than he would’ve done at the childminder’s.’ He sighed. ‘I feel bad taking him to the childminder’s for breakfast and then not picking him up until after dinner for half the week, but I work shifts—it’s the only thing I can do. I was trying to avoid any more change in his life, but she told me the other week I’m going to have to find someone else because she’s moving.’

‘Would your childminder be Carol?’ she asked.

Yet again, she’d surprised him. ‘How did you know?’

‘I know all the local childminders, through work,’ Flora explained. ‘Carol loves it here in Cornwall, but her husband’s been promoted to his company’s head office in London so that’s why she has to move.’

‘So if you know all the local childminders…’ Tom brightened. ‘Do you happen to know anyone with spare places who’d be good with Joey and could take him from half past six in the morning until school, and then after school until a quarter past seven or so? I can hardly take him with me to the station, in case we have a shout.’

‘Nobody’s got any spare places right now,’ Flora said. ‘The
ones who did have are already booked up from taking on Carol’s clients. But I can ask around again, if you like.’

Yet another example of his failure at being a stand-in parent. ‘Susie would’ve had that sorted out on day one,’ Tom said grimly. ‘When Carol told me she was leaving and I’d have to find someone else to look after Joey, I was still trying to get my head around what had happened and learning to fit my life round my nephew. I didn’t have room in my head for anything else. And now I
wish
I’d made more of an effort.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping on you like this.’

‘Not a problem. It’s not going any further than me.’

‘Trust you, you’re a nurse?’

‘Something like that.’ Flora smiled at him, and Tom realised that she had dimples. Seriously cute dimples. Dimples he wanted to touch. Dimples he wanted to kiss.

Though now wasn’t the time or the place. ‘Thank you. You’ve been really kind. Can I impose on you and ask you what’s your secret? You’ve got through to Joey when nobody else can, not even his teachers.’

She shrugged. ‘I think he likes Banjo.’

The dog wagged his tail at hearing his name. The sound of Banjo’s tail thumping the floor woke Joey, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. For a moment, he stared wildly round him, as if not knowing where he was.

‘Hey, Jojo, we’re at Flora’s. At the farm,’ Tom said, going over to him and squatting down so that he was at his nephew’s level. ‘You fell asleep, sweetheart. I hear you’ve been running about with Banjo here and seeing the chickens and making brownies.’

Joey nodded.

‘Did you have fun?’

Joey nodded again.

‘That’s good.’ Tom smiled at him. ‘The fire’s out now so
your school’s all safe again, ready for Monday morning. And we ought to let Flora get on. Shall we go home to Uncle Tom’s upstairs house?’

Joey just looked at him.

Home.

Clearly Joey didn’t think of Tom’s flat as home. Maybe he should’ve moved into his sister’s house instead of taking Joey back to his place, but he simply couldn’t handle it. Every second he’d been in the house, he’d expected Susie to walk into the room at any time, and it had to be even harder for Joey. Right now, Tom was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, and he hated himself for not being able to make Joey’s world right again. For being a coward and escaping to work whenever he could, losing himself in the adrenalin rush of his job.

‘Shall we say goodbye to Flora and Banjo?’

Joey yawned, then made a fuss of the dog, who licked him.

‘You can come back any time you like and play with him,’ Flora said. ‘He liked playing ball with you this afternoon.’

Joey said nothing, but there was the ghost of a smile on his face.

‘Thank you for having us,’ Tom said, knowing that his nephew wasn’t going to say it.

‘My pleasure. Come back soon, Joey,’ Flora said with a smile.

Tom tried slipping his hand into Joey’s as they walked to the front door, but Joey twisted his hand away. Tom was careful not to let his feelings show on his face. ‘Bye, Flora. Thanks again.’