St Piran's: The Fireman and Nurse Loveday (7 page)

She felt the betraying wash of colour flood into her cheeks. Obviously Tom was a fairly tactile person; the kiss didn’t mean anything at all, and this was just friendship. Yet she could feel the touch of his lips against her skin all evening, and it sent a mixture of warmth and excitement bubbling through her.

Tuesday was busy, thanks to a cold snap. Flora was on duty at the surgery all day on the minor injuries clinic, and there was a steady stream of people coming in to see her after falling over, most of them with hands that hurt. Several of them had very obvious signs of Colles’ fractures. ‘I’m going to have to send you to St Piran’s for an X-ray and backslab,’ she explained to the first of her patients. ‘Everyone puts their hands out to save themselves when they fall, and if you land awkwardly you can end up breaking your wrist. You’ll be in a cast for a couple of weeks until it heals. The good news is that casts are lightweight nowadays, so it won’t get too much in the way, but the bad news is that you’re going to have to get someone else to do all your lifting and carrying until your arm’s healed.’

It felt odd not to see Tom and Joey in the evening. Flora was cross with herself for getting too involved, too fast. For pity’s
sake, she knew that Tom had other demands on his time. His job was incredibly difficult, and he had to get used to being a stand-in dad to his nephew. He wasn’t going to have time to keep coming over to the farm and seeing her. And, unless she was looking after Joey, he didn’t really even have a reason for coming to see her. ‘I’m being ridiculous about this,’ she told her dog. ‘Worse than a teenager with a crush—and I haven’t got a crush on Tom Nicholson.’

Banjo regarded her steadily, as if he didn’t believe her.

She sighed. ‘All right, so I think he’s gorgeous. And it’s not just the way he looks. He’s a nice guy and there’s something about him that makes me feel more…well, confident. He listens to me, so I don’t feel like a bumbling idiot when I’m with him. I like the way his mind works, I like the way he puts other people first, and I like the way he’s trying so hard to fit his life round Joey, rather than making Joey fit round him.’ She bit her lip. ‘But I’ve got to be practical about this, because he’s way out of my league.’

But all the same she was pleased the next morning to hear the crunch of the gravel as Tom parked outside.

‘Have you had breakfast yet?’ she asked as she met Tom and Joey at the door.

He shook his head. ‘I’ll get something at the station.’

‘It’s as easy to make breakfast for three as it is for two.’

‘Thanks, but I need to get going or I’ll be late for work.’

Of course. And she was being ridiculous, feeling disappointed that he wasn’t staying. At her age, she should know better. ‘See you tonight, then.’ She smiled at him. ‘Have a nice day.’

‘You, too. Bye, Joey.’ Tom ruffled his nephew’s hair awkwardly, and Joey gave him a pained look. Tom was clearly careful not to react in front of the boy, but Flora saw his shoulders slump as he headed back to his car. Every time Joey
rejected him, she had a feeling that it cracked Tom’s heart that little bit more.

‘So what would you like for breakfast, Joey? I was thinking about French toast. Have you ever had French toast?’

The little boy shook his head.

‘Do you fancy playing chef? ‘

His face lit up and he went to fetch a tea-towel from the drawer. Flora couldn’t help smiling as he tucked it round himself to keep his school uniform clean. ‘Good boy—well remembered.’

Joey seemed to thoroughly enjoy helping her beat the egg with vanilla essence and dip the bread into it. While the French toast was cooking, she sliced up some fruit onto two plates, then put the cooked French toast next to it.

‘Nice?’ she asked after Joey had taken a bite.

He nodded.

‘Score out of five?’

He thought about it, then held up his right palm with all four fingers and thumb outstretched.

‘Five? Excellent.’ She beamed at him. ‘We make a good team, Joey Barber.’

She washed up the breakfast things, then took him to school. ‘Now, Joey, I know you don’t like holding people’s hands very much, but there’s a fair bit of traffic here and I need to know you’re safe, so I need you to hold my hand from the car to the playground, OK?’

He nodded and let her hold his hand.

For one crazy moment, Flora thought, This is what it would be like to take my own child to school. Then she shook herself. How silly. She didn’t even date, so marriage and children were hardly an option.

But, oh, how she missed being part of a family. How she’d love a family of her own, somewhere she’d be accepted for herself. She adored Banjo, but the dog could only listen to her,
not talk back, and she wasn’t quite soppy enough to believe that the dog understood every word she said to her. Right now, she was rattling around on her own in the farmhouse. Lonely. As an only child, she didn’t even have nieces and nephews to spoil—not now, and not in the future. So, unless she could do something to overcome her shyness and start dating, it was pretty unlikely that she’d ever have a family of her own again.

Though where did you meet people? At work wasn’t an option for her; apart from the fact that the male doctors in the practice were already married, most of her patients were children. Even if she did end up treating an adult male who happened to be single, there was no way she’d be unprofessional enough to ask him out on a date.

And she wasn’t one for parties or going clubbing. Which left a dating agency—and no way would she be able to meet up with a complete stranger. She’d spend the whole evening beetroot red, fumbling for words and feeling too awkward and embarrassed to relax, wishing herself back safely at home. It wouldn’t be like the other day, when she’d sat in the Smugglers’, chatting to Tom. Or like this morning, when she and Joey had made French toast.

She glanced at the little boy. Joey stood apart from the other children in the playground; he’d always been one of the quiet ones, but he was really cutting himself off. Was he scared that if he let someone close, he’d lose them, the way he’d lost his parents? That would explain why he was refusing to let Tom hug him or ride on his shoulders, the way Tom had said he’d done while Susie and Kevin had still been alive.

Maybe playing with Banjo would help. Bonding with the dog might help him bond with his uncle again, and gradually he’d learn to open up to other people.

The doors opened and the classroom assistant stood there to welcome the children in. ‘See you at five, sweetheart,’ Flora
said, and watched him walk in through the doors before she headed off to work.

She texted Tom to let him know that Joey was safely at school, and got a brief text back saying just
‘Thanks’.
Well, he was at work, and he was busy. She’d been an idiot to hope that he’d send a personal message back. That kiss on her cheek the other night had been completely platonic, and she was acting like a teenager. She put it firmly out of her mind, got on with her work, and then met Joey from after-school club at five.

‘How was your day?’ she asked.

He shrugged and said nothing.

OK. She’d try something less emotional and see if he responded to that. ‘Do you like drawing?’

He nodded, to her relief.

‘Great. You can draw some pictures when we get back, if you like.’ She’d popped to the shops at lunchtime and bought a sketchpad and pencils; she’d also picked up some more books from the library. Joey drew pictures and played with Banjo while she prepared dinner; then she read him some stories while the veg steamed and the shepherd’s pie cooked. Over dinner, he told her shyly that a policeman had come in for show-and-tell and he was the daddy of Mitchell in his class, and Flora had a lightbulb moment: this was something that might help Tom and Joey bond.

Finally, at a quarter past seven, Tom rang the doorbell.

He tried to make a fuss of Joey, but the little boy was having none of it; he turned away and concentrated on turning the pages of his book.

Seeing the hurt in Tom’s face at the rejection, Flora switched on the kettle. ‘How was your day?’ she asked.

‘Pretty eventful. I had to break into a house to rescue a family,’ he said.

‘Was it a fire?’

‘No—it was carbon monoxide poisoning.’

‘What happened?’ She put a mug of coffee in front of him.

‘The husband thought he had a bug or something. He felt a bit dizzy and sleepy, but he didn’t have a temperature so he went in to work. He felt a bit better during the day, so he rang home—he knew his wife had been feeling a bit rough, too, and had stayed at home with the youngest because she had a vomiting bug, but then his wife didn’t answer the phone or her mobile. He was worried in case she’d had to take the little one to hospital or something, so he rang their neighbour and asked him to take a look. He could see her car outside, but there was no answer when he knocked on the door. He looked through the window and saw her collapsed on the floor, so he called the emergency services.’

Flora winced. ‘Lucky for them that the neighbour was there.’

‘We broke in and got them out; then the ambulance arrived and the paramedics put them on oxygen.’

‘Was that enough, or did they have to go to hospital?’

Tom couldn’t remember talking about his job to a girlfriend before; it felt odd, chatting to someone who understood where he was coming from, but he rather liked it. ‘The oxygen was enough,’ he said. ‘The paramedics put them on an ECG monitor and the trace was OK, so they’re going to be fine. We took a look in the house and could see that the flames in the gas fire in the living room were yellow, not blue.’

‘Which I take it is a problem?’

‘Very much so,’ Tom said. ‘They called in a gas engineer to sort it out, and it turned out there was a blocked flue as well as the dodgy gas fire. It’s all sorted now, and he rang us to thank us for saving his wife and youngest child’s life, and to let us know what had happened.’ He smiled. ‘I like days like today, where I can actually fix things and make them right. How about you?’

‘I was doing routine vaccinations today—back at the nursery, finishing off the ones I didn’t do on Friday—and I was at the surgery this afternoon. Joey and I have had a nice evening together. We read some stories.’

Tom took the hint. ‘Which was your favourite, Joey?’ he asked, hoping that this time his nephew would respond.

‘The one about the dog,’ Joey said.

‘We’re going to choose the next ones together, so I don’t pick ones he’s already read,’ Flora explained.

‘I drawed Flora a picture. Me and Banjo,’ Joey said.

‘It’s on the fridge.’ Flora removed the magnet and handed the picture to Tom.

Tom suppressed the wish that his nephew had drawn him a picture, too. Flora was doing so much for him; it was churlish and ridiculous to be envious of her. Yet she seemed to be able to get through to the little boy where he couldn’t, and he really wished he knew her secret.

‘Can I get you something to eat?’ Flora asked.

‘No, you’re fine. Thanks for offering, but I get a meal at work before the end of my shift.’ He could see that she was taking it as a personal rejection and smiled to soften it. ‘But this coffee is fabulous. Just what I need.’

There was another awkward silence while Tom wondered what he should say next to his nephew.

Flora, as if sensing his dilemma, stepped in. ‘Joey had show-and-tell in class today,’ she said.

‘What did you see, Jojo?’ Tom asked, picking up her obvious cue.

‘A policeman.’

‘Did you try on his hat?’

‘And his handcuffs,’ Joey said solemnly.

So Joey had enjoyed that, Tom thought. Would he, perhaps, like a firefighter to go in for show and tell? His gaze met Flora’s, and she nodded very slightly, as if guessing what was
in his mind. ‘Have you ever had a firefighter in for show-and-tell?’ he asked.

Joey shook his head.

‘I’ll have to check the schedule with my boss, but if you want me to I can maybe arrange to bring the engine and the crew out and show your class around. Obviously, provided we don’t have to go off to put out a fire.’

Joey’s eyes went wide.

‘Would you like that, Joey?’ Flora asked softly.

Joey nodded, and Tom felt the muscles of his shoulders relax. ‘I’ll have a chat with my boss and your teacher, then.’ And maybe this would help Joey bond with him again. It would be something he could talk to his classmates about, maybe.

Tom meant to kiss Flora on the cheek again when he took Joey home, but somehow he ended up brushing his mouth against hers instead. Her mouth was soft and sweet and she tasted of vanilla. He had to resist the temptation to kiss her again; her eyes had gone wide and the amber flecks were even more obvious, and she looked utterly adorable.

And he really shouldn’t be doing this.

‘Flora, I—’

‘It’s OK.’ She shook her head, clearly not wanting to discuss it. ‘You’d better get Joey to bed. See you in the morning. ‘Night, Joey!’

The little boy waved, and Tom mentally called himself all kinds of a fool. Flora was a lifesaver for him, right now, and he’d better not do anything to jeopardise it.

T
HE
next morning, Tom looked wary when he dropped Joey off. Flora strove to be cheerful and polite and breezy so he wouldn’t think she was still thrown by that kiss—even though she was, and her lips were still tingling at the memory of his mouth against hers. She knew how pathetic it was, having a crush on the most gorgeous firefighter in the crew. Of course he wouldn’t be interested in boring, mousy her. They were just
friends.

‘Joey, do you like porridge, like the Three Bears had?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘You can help me chop the fruit to put on top,’ she said, ‘and then we’ll have a story while the porridge is cooking. I found a really good one where the bears get their revenge on Goldilocks; would you like to hear that one?’

He nodded again.

‘Say bye-bye to Uncle Tom,’ she said with a smile.

‘Bye-bye.’ Joey gave a tiny wave.

‘See you later, Tom. Have a nice day,’ she said brightly.

That was definitely a fake smile, Tom thought as he drove to work. Flora was clearly wary of him—and no wonder. He’d really messed up last night. Fancy kissing her like that. Why on earth hadn’t he controlled himself? But he found her
irresistible. And he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since that hug outside the church.

When he’d kissed her on the cheek it had been spontaneous. Friendly. But last night’s kiss—though equally chaste—had thrown him. He’d even dreamed about Flora last night. Dreams that set his pulse racing and made his body surge when he thought about it.

But she clearly didn’t think the same way. So he needed to keep himself strictly under control in future.

Tonight, he’d bring flowers when he picked Joey up. He’d apologise, tell her that she had nothing to worry about—and he’d keep it platonic in future.

Thursday morning was Flora’s clinic at the high school, where anyone could drop in and talk to her privately if they had any worries. She was also doing the second of the three-stage HPV vaccinations of the Year Eight girls. She could hear them chattering in the queue; one of them was talking about how her boyfriend had kissed her for the first time, and Flora thought of the way Tom had kissed her last night and how it had sent heat all the way through her body.

Oh, how juvenile. She really,
really
had to get a grip. She was twenty-four, not fourteen.

She’d just finished vaccinating one class when the school receptionist came hurrying through. ‘Flora, there’s been an accident. The fire brigade are on their way, but two of the Year Eight lads decided to skip lessons and go skating on the pond—they went straight through. Luckily one of the sixth formers decided to go to the library halfway through private study and heard them yelling for help; she had the sense to call the emergency services on her mobile phone and then came to tell me.’

The pond had had a reputation as a skating rink in Flora’s days at the school; and, no matter how often the children
were warned not to do it, there was always at least one every year willing to take the risk. As the boys had fallen through the ice and must have been there for a while, they were severely at risk of developing immersion hypothermia; they might even need hospital treatment. ‘OK, I’m on my way. There are space blankets in the PE department, aren’t there?’ At the receptionist’s nod, she said, ‘Can you get someone to bring some through—and some spare clothing and towels, please?’ As soon as the boys were out of the pond, the first thing she needed to do was to get them into dry clothes and start warming them up, heads and torsos first.

‘I’ll ring through now,’ the receptionist said.

Flora took her medical bag and hurried over to the pond, pulling her coat on as she went. It was barely above freezing; why on earth had the boys been so daft? She could see the fire engine there; the crew had ladders out and one fireman was crawling along it towards the boys so he could pull them out. Her heart missed a beat. Even though she couldn’t see the fireman’s face and she knew that several of the fire crew were just as tall and brawny as Tom, she knew instinctively that it was him.

Please, let him be safe.

Rob Werrick, one of the PE teachers, came out with a space blanket, spare tracksuit bottoms and sweatshirts, and towels. ‘It’s Danny and Harry from Year Eight,’ he said as he glanced at the pond. ‘When I heard what had happened, I should’ve guessed those two would be involved.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘What on earth did they think they were doing?’

‘In my day, there were stories about people skating on the pond. They probably thought it sounded like fun,’ Flora suggested.

‘Taking a huge risk, more like.’ Rob sighed. ‘They’ve all been warned to stay away from the pond. But do they ever listen?’

‘Teenage boys,’ Flora said ruefully. ‘I think they have selective hearing.’

She could hear Tom talking to the boys, explaining how he was going to get them out and what they needed to do. He brought the first one back with him across the ladder, and kept the other one talking as he did so—no doubt, Flora thought, so he could keep a check on the boy’s level of consciousness.

‘Hi, Flora.’ He smiled at her. ‘Well, young Danny, I’m handing you over to safe hands now to get you checked over while I go and fish your mate out of the pond.’ He winked at Flora, then headed back to the ladder.

‘Come on, Danny, let’s get you inside and get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up.’ She hurried him into the nearest building.

‘I can’t get undressed in front of you. You’re a girl,’ Danny mumbled.

Usually Year Eight boys managed to make her blush or stutter; most of them were as tall as she was and it took her right back to her schooldays, when she’d been awkward and painfully shy and just hadn’t fitted in. But Tom’s words had bolstered her confidence: he’d treated Danny as a child and made it clear he was handing the boy over to someone whose opinion he respected. To
her.

‘You’re a child,’ Flora said crisply, ‘and I’m a nurse. I’m not interested in your naked body. You’re wet and very, very cold, and I need you to get into dry clothes before I can assess your breathing and your heart, OK?’

Danny muttered something she couldn’t quite catch and didn’t look her in the eye.

She rolled her eyes. ‘If it makes you feel better, I’ll turn my back. Dry off and get dressed, please—and don’t rub your skin, pat it.’

Tom came in, a few moments later. ‘What are we going to do with Harry?’

‘Same as Danny. Wet clothes off, blot your skin with a towel—don’t rub,’ she warned, ‘and then dry clothes on and a space blanket round you.’

Harry looked as embarrassed as Danny. ‘I can’t—’

‘I’ve already had that conversation with Danny. I’m turning my back,’ Flora said.

She could see the amusement in Tom’s eyes but, to his credit, he didn’t laugh.

Once the boys were dressed in dry clothes and had space blankets round them, she blotted their hair dry and then put woolly hats on them.

‘Why do we have to wear hats indoors?’ Harry asked, his teeth chattering.

‘Because you lose the most heat from your head—the hat stops you losing the heat,’ Flora explained. ‘And you’re both shivering, which is a good sign.’ It showed that their bodies were trying to bring their temperature up again rather than just giving up.

‘Is there anything else you need?’ Rob Werrick asked.

‘A mug of hot chocolate each would be good—not boiling hot, but warm so it helps to get their temperature back up,’ Flora said.

‘I’ll make you both a coffee at the same time. Milk, sugar?’

‘I’m fine,’ Flora said.

‘Just milk for me, please,’ Tom said.

After the warm drink, Danny and Harry finally stopped shivering. Flora took their pulse and blood pressure, and listened to their hearts. ‘You’re going to be fine,’ she told them. ‘You were incredibly lucky this time, but for pity’s sake
never
do anything like this again. It really isn’t worth the risk. And nobody’s going to think you’re cool or clever if you end up in hospital.’

‘Ice needs to be at least twelve centimetres thick to bear
your weight,’ Tom said, ‘and this wasn’t anywhere near thick enough.’

‘It looked thick enough,’ Danny said, looking mutinous.

‘But it wasn’t. You went straight through it.’

‘Dad said he skated on the pond when he was here,’ Harry said.

‘Your dad might have been teasing you.’

‘No, he really did it.’

‘Then he took a very big risk. The pond’s too deep for you to haul yourself out onto the ice once you’ve gone through it. And you two are very lucky that someone heard you yelling for help. If you’d been stuck in that water for thirty minutes, you might not have survived,’ Tom said grimly. ‘Your body temperature would’ve dropped so low that you could’ve died—and think of how your families would’ve felt, losing you.’

Danny and Harry looked at each other, but said nothing.

‘Are our parents going to have to know about this?’ Danny asked eventually.

‘Of course they are,’ Flora said. ‘Your parents need to know what happened. I’ll be the one speaking to your mums and reassuring them that you’re both OK and you haven’t got hypothermia.’

‘Mum’s
so
going to ground me,’ Harry said. ‘And she’s going to ban my games console for a month.’

‘Me, too,’ Danny said. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘And it was fair of you both to skip lessons, go onto the ice to show off to your mates, and end up risking the lives of the fire crew?’ Flora asked.

Harry’s cheeks reddened. ‘I s’pose not.’

‘Danny?’ she prompted.

He pulled a face. ‘No.’

‘Is there something you both want to say to Mr Nicholson
here, then?’ Flora asked. Both boys hung their heads. ‘Sorry,’ they mumbled, their faces bright red with embarrassment.

‘And?’ she prompted.

Danny looked at her. ‘What?’

‘He saved your life,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘Which I think might be worth two little words your parents probably made you say when you were little—and you’ve clearly forgotten.’

They both went even redder and muttered, ‘Thank you.’

‘Right. Better get back to your lessons.’ Flora folded her arms. ‘And you might find life an awful lot easier if you stop to think things through before you act next time, OK?’

The boys nodded, looking ashamed, and shuffled out of the room.

‘So you have a stern side, Flora Loveday,’ Tom said, sounding amused.

‘When people do really stupid things and put others at risk, then yes.’ She shrugged. ‘You don’t need to shout or swear to get your point across.’

‘No, somehow I don’t think they’re going to forget what you said to them.’ He sighed. ‘I wanted to shake the pair of them, I admit. It was a really stupid thing to do. Ice can vary in thickness across a pond—one part can be safe, but put one foot on a weak area, and you’ll go straight through into the water.’ He grimaced. ‘It isn’t the first time I’ve rescued someone from falling through ice, and it won’t be the last.’

Flora looked at him. ‘They’re fine, but are you OK? You had to crawl out on the ice.’

‘On a ladder. I’m fine. I’m wearing a drysuit and several layers underneath—and Rob got me that coffee, so that’s warmed me up.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at her. ‘I’d better get back to work. See you later.’

‘See you,’ she said, smiling back.

After school, Joey spent the afternoon racing round with Banjo, and he was asleep when Tom arrived to pick him up. Banjo stood next to Joey, on guard duty, and Tom ruffled the dog’s fur. ‘You’re a good boy,’ he said softly. Then he turned to Flora and handed her the flowers.

‘They’re lovely, Tom, but you really don’t need to bring me flowers.’

‘I do, today.’

She looked puzzled. ‘Why?’

‘Last night.’ He took a deep breath. ‘About that… I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.’

She didn’t meet his eyes. ‘It’s not a problem. I know you didn’t mean it that way.’

Something in her voice alerted Tom: Flora obviously thought she wasn’t attractive enough for any man to want to kiss her. How on earth had she got that idea? He cupped her face in one hand and gently moved her chin so she was looking him straight in the eye. ‘Flora, you do know you’re beautiful, don’t you?’

‘Me?
Beautiful?’
Her face was filled with astonishment. ‘You must be joking. I’m nothing like a WAG.’

Was that her definition of beauty? It wasn’t his. ‘I’m glad you’re not. You’re not caked in make-up, and you don’t spend hours doing your nails and dyeing your hair. Yours is a natural beauty. And very, very real.’

She went bright pink.

‘And then you have depths. You’re not one of these shallow, boring women. You’re kind and you’re sweet and…’ And he wanted her very, very badly. Too much to be able to resist. ‘Flora.’ He breathed her name, dipped his head and kissed her again. This time with intent. His mouth moved over hers, teasing and coaxing, until she gave a tiny sigh, slid her free arm round his neck and kissed him back.

‘I’m not going to apologise for that one,’ he said when he broke the kiss. ‘Just so you know, I meant it.’

She blushed again and her lips parted, as if inviting him to kiss her some more.

‘You taste of vanilla,’ he said softly.

‘It’s lip salve.’

He smiled. ‘Keep wearing it. I like it.’

She flushed again. ‘Tom, you can’t—I mean, I’m not your type.’

‘No? So what do you think is my type?’

‘Someone glamorous. Someone tall.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Someone
thin.’

He’d begun to be bored with glamour. Height didn’t matter. And he loathed dating women who nibbled on a stick of celery and refused pudding in case it made them put on a few grams; he much preferred the company of women who actually enjoyed eating out with him.

‘Wrong on all counts,’ he told her softly. ‘And why are you putting yourself down? You have delicious curves, Flora. Curves that make me want to…’ He slid both hands down her sides, moulding her curves. ‘You’re lovely. Luscious.’

He took the flowers from her hand, put them on the table, then scooped her up and sat down on the sofa, pulling her onto his lap. ‘I know I probably shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t have the right to ask to start seeing you—my life is complicated, and I’m already taking way too much advantage of your good nature.’ He stole a kiss. ‘But I’ve been thinking about you all day. All week, really,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I met you.’