A Baby for Eve. Maggie Kingsley

younger. It had been too expensive for them when he’d just qualified as a doctor and she’d just finished her nurse’s training, and yet he’d remembered where it was. What else did he remember? she wondered, but she didn’t want to go down that particular memory lane. It was fraught with too many dangers, too many complications.

      ‘How long have you lived in London?’ she said, deliberately changing the conversation. ‘I mean, I thought you were still in the States,’ she continued as he glanced across at her, ‘but you gave Lauren a London address.’

      ‘I haven’t lived in the States for the past ten years,’ he replied. ‘I have a flat in London now, and an apartment in Lausanne overlooking Lake Geneva.’

      ‘Sounds—’

      ‘Posh?’ he finished for her dryly, and she shook her head at him.

      ‘Lovely—I was going to say lovely,’ she said, and Tom shrugged.

      ‘They’re just places I stay in between trips, not proper homes. Homes have people you love in them. Wives, children.’

      Don’t ask, she thought as she stared out the windscreen at the trees flashing by. Trees that were beginning to lose their leaves under a sky that was as blue as only a Cornish sky could be. She didn’t need to know, and it was better if she didn’t, but she couldn’t help herself.

      ‘You’re not married, then?’ she said, glancing across at him.

      ‘Nope,’ he replied, braking slightly to avoid the rabbit that had dashed out in front of them. ‘Never found anyone prepared to put up with the kind of erratic work patterns my job demands. At least, not for any length of time.’ His green eyes met hers. ‘What about you?’

      She shifted her gaze back at the trees.

      ‘No, I’m not married.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Tom, are you planning on coming back to Penhally to stay, or…?’

      ‘I’m only here until Monday. I have things to do—sort out—then I’ll be off again.’

      A surge of relief engulfed her. Monday. This was Saturday. She could cope with that. If she should accidentally meet him again tomorrow, she’d be pleasant and friendly, talk about everything and nothing. She’d managed to keep silent for all these years so she could keep quiet for one more day because what good would it do to tell him? Telling him wouldn’t change anything, alter anything, make it less painful.

      ‘Eve?’

      He was staring curiously at her, and she managed to smile.

      ‘I read in a magazine a while back that you’d been made head of rescue operations at Deltaron,’ she said. ‘You must be very pleased.’

      ‘Yeah, well, it’s certainly a whole different ball game when your desk is the one the buck stops on. What about you?’ he asked. ‘Still nursing?’

      She nodded.

      ‘I actually just started work in Penhally last month,’ she said. ‘Before that I worked in Truro and Newquay, but Alison—the girl you don’t know whose wedding you were just at,’ she added, and saw Tom smile, ‘is pregnant so I’ve temporarily taken over her position as practice nurse in the Penhally surgery.’

      ‘Which means if she comes back after her maternity leave, you’ll be out of a job,’ Tom observed.

      ‘Not for long,’ she said briskly. ‘There’s a big shortage of nurses in the UK so I’ll get something else pretty fast.’

      ‘But you’d rather work here, in your home village.’

      It was a statement, not a question, and her lips curved wryly.

      ‘Well, you always did say I had no imagination.’

      ‘Did I say that?’ He shook his head. ‘God, I had a big mouth when I was twenty-four, didn’t I?’

      ‘Uh-huh,’ she replied, and he laughed. ‘Actually, although you don’t know Alison or Jack,’ she continued, ‘you do know Jack’s father. It’s Nick Tremayne.’

      ‘Nick Tremayne, the doctor?’ Tom declared.

      ‘The very same,’ Eve answered. ‘He’s the senior partner in the Penhally surgery now, and my boss.’

      ‘Are you telling me I’ve just been to the wedding of the son of somebody I went to med school with?’ Tom groaned. ‘God, but now you’ve made me feel old.’

      Eve chuckled. ‘Do you remember when we thought anyone older than forty was decrepit?’

      ‘And anyone over fifty might just as well be dead.’ He nodded. ‘Shows how little we knew, doesn’t it?’ His eyes met hers again. ‘Eve—’

      ‘Are we almost there yet?’ Tassie chipped in from the back of the car. ‘I’m starving.’

      ‘In other words, quit with the talking,’ Tom said ruefully, ‘and drive faster.’

      ‘Something like that.’ The little girl giggled and, as Tom grinned across at Eve, and her own lips curved in response, her heart contracted.

      No, she told herself. No. The past is past, nobody can ever go back, and if you allow yourself to be sucked back into his world he’ll only hurt you again, and this time you might not survive.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ Tom asked, his green eyes suddenly puzzled, and Eve shook her head.

      ‘Just hungry, like Tassie.’

      ‘Eve—’

      ‘We’re here!’ Tassie interrupted with a shriek as the grey-stoned façade of The Smugglers’ Inn suddenly came into view. ‘And look at all the cars. I hope there’s room inside for us.’

      And I hope it’s standing room only, Eve thought, so I can hide myself in the crush, but Tom must have read her mind because as she got out of the car he took her arm firmly in his.

      ‘Now we eat, and socialise, right?’ he declared.

      ‘You go ahead,’ Eve replied. ‘I just need…’

      She waved vaguely in the direction of the door leading to the ladies’ cloakroom, but it didn’t do her any good.

      ‘We’ll wait for you, won’t we, Tassie?’ Tom said, and Tassie beamed, leaving Eve with nothing to do but obediently disappear into the ladies’ cloakroom.

      At least it was empty, she thought with relief as she walked in. Company was the last thing she wanted right now, and quickly she washed her hands then pulled her hairbrush out of her handbag. Lord, but she looked awful. White face, panic-stricken brown eyes, her shoulder-length brown hair slightly windswept, and…

      Forty-two, she thought bleakly as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. I look forty-two. OK, so that wasn’t old, but nothing could alter the fact that she was heavier than she’d been at twenty-two, that there were faint lines at the corner of her eyes, and her hair wouldn’t be brown if Vicki at the hairdresser’s didn’t tint it every six weeks.

      Impatiently, she dragged her hairbrush through her hair. What did it matter if she didn’t look twenty-two any more?

      Because I would like to have looked as I did when he last saw me, her heart sighed as her eyes met those in the mirror. Because it would have shown him what he lost when he walked away from me, and it was stupid to feel that way. Stupid.

      ‘Feeling any better now?’

      Eve whirled round to see Kate Althorp standing behind her, and forced a smile.

      ‘Much,’ she lied, and Kate shot her a shrewd glance as she ran some water into a sink and began washing her hands.

      ‘It must have been quite a shock to see Tom again.’

      ‘A surprise,’ Eve said firmly. ‘It was a