The Brooding Doc's Redemption. Kate Hardy

again, would flowers be making the wrong kind of statement?

      He shook himself. Oh, for pity’s sake. He needed to be professional about this. But he was horribly aware that this whole situation was throwing him. He was about to walk into just the kind of home he could’ve had if the accident hadn’t happened. A family home. One with children.

      But the accident had happened. He had a bachelor pad, not a family home. And he only had himself to blame.

      He knocked on the front door. There a brief woof and a ‘Shh!’, and then Laurie opened the door. A chocolate Labrador with a wagging blur of a tail was desperately trying to barge past her. There was a smudge of flour on Laurie’s face and several of her dark corkscrew curls had escaped from the scrunchie she used to hold her hair back. The whole effect was unbelievably cute, and he found himself wanting to tuck the stray curls into place and brush that smudge of flour from her skin.

      Which was incredibly dangerous. He didn’t need that kind of contact. Didn’t want it. His heart had been broken, he was still trying to patch it up, and no way was he ever risking any kind of relationship again, other than on a strictly colleagues basis. He even kept his family at a distance nowadays, because it was easier. If he didn’t let himself feel, he wouldn’t hurt.

      Misinterpreting his sudden stillness, she pushed the dog back behind her. ‘Sorry, Cocoa’s a bit over-friendly.’ Within a nanosecond, the dog was trying to push past her again. ‘I forgot to ask if you’re OK with dogs. I can put him in the utility room, if you’d rather.’

      ‘No, it’s fine. I like dogs.’ It had even been part of his and Ginny’s plans. A baby, and then a dog. A house with a garden.

      Ginny would’ve loved the old cottage he’d found to rent in the small Norfolk town. She would’ve loved the duck pond on the green, the ancient flint church with its round tower, the gentle undulations of the countryside around them. But because of his own stupidity he had nobody to share it with. Nobody to love. Nobody to love him back.

      He pushed the thoughts away and held out his hand for the dog to sniff, then scratched the top of the dog’s head. There was a look of sheer bliss on Cocoa’s face and he leaned towards Marc.

      ‘He’ll be demanding a fuss from you all night,’ Laurie warned with a smile. ‘Come in. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m waiting for some stuff to come out of the oven, so we need to stay in the kitchen. Can I get you a coffee, or maybe a glass of wine?’

      Definitely not wine. That had been one of the causes of his downfall, and he hadn’t touched a drop since the funeral. ‘Coffee would be lovely, thanks,’ he said politely.

      ‘Come in and sit down.’

      It was clearly a family kitchen. There were several paintings held on the fridge with magnets, obviously the work of a young child. And if that wasn’t enough proof, there was a cork board on one wall covered with school notices and photographs of a little girl, varying from babyhood to what looked like about five years old.

      Marc couldn’t help thinking how his own child would’ve been eighteen months old now, toddling everywhere and starting to chatter away. A boy or a girl? It had been too soon to tell.

      He dug his fingernails into his palms, and the slight pain was just enough to stop him thinking and ripping the scars off his heart.

      On the worktop, there was a plate full of cupcakes covered in very pink icing, along with lots of sparkly sprinkles—and there were almost as many on the worktop as there were on the cakes. A pile of washing-up was stacked up next to the sink and a batch of cookies sat on a cooling wire rack next to the oven. Clearly Laurie was in the middle of a baking session.

      She followed his gaze when she turned round from the kettle and winced. ‘Sorry, it’s a bit untidy. I meant to clear up properly before you got here, but then Izzy wanted me to read her bedtime story a second time, and—’ She spread her hands. ‘Well, you know how it is with kids.’

      Not personally. And he never would now. He didn’t deserve to have a family. ‘Yes,’ he said, as neutrally as he could.

      Cocoa sat at Marc’s feet and rested his chin on Marc’s knee; absently, Marc rubbed the top of the dog’s head.

      ‘Would you like a cookie with your coffee?’ Laurie asked.

      ‘Thank you. But I hope you didn’t go to all this trouble for me.’

      ‘No, of course n—’ She winced, cutting the word off as she put a couple of cookies onto a plate. ‘Sorry, that came out the wrong way. I didn’t mean you weren’t worth taking any trouble over. I’m baking because it’s the PTA coffee morning tomorrow. Izzy decorated the cakes.’

      Laurie’s little girl. Which explained the sprinkles, and probably most of the mess.

      ‘Obviously I don’t get a chance to actually go to the coffee morning because I need to be at the surgery for my shift, but I try to do my bit to help. I always make them some cakes to sell, give them a raffle prize and leave them money for some tickets. If they draw my name out, they choose something for me and send the prize home with Izzy.’

      Laurie was clearly very involved with village life. Not only was she a GP, she was also a mum who did things to support the local school. Would Ginny have been like that? he wondered. Probably. As a teacher, she would’ve been involved with the school, either because she worked there or because their child went there. Though she would’ve been a bit less chaotic than Laurie. Their house in London had never been as untidy as this.

      ‘So did you enjoy your first day at the practice?’ she asked.

      Work. He could talk about work, he thought gratefully. Not personal stuff. That was good. ‘Fine.’

      ‘Good.’ Laurie put a mug of coffee in front of him, along with the cookies, then added milk to her own coffee and sat down opposite him. ‘I’ve been thinking about the easiest way to tackle this. I thought we could maybe brainstorm all the different kinds of exercise we can think of, then I’ll list all the people within a five-mile radius who can offer each one, and we can divvy up the calls between us and ask them if they’d be prepared to do a taster session for us.’

      ‘Sure. That sounds reasonable.’

      She looked relieved. ‘Great. One tiny thing: would you mind if I asked you to deal with Neil Peascod? He owns the gym and swim place at the other end of the town.’

      ‘Do I take it he’s likely to be difficult?’ Marc asked, wondering why she didn’t want to deal with the guy.

      ‘Not exactly.’ She flushed. ‘He was a bit, um, persistent with me last year. I guess he didn’t like to think that someone might actually say no to him.’

      ‘He asked you out?’ Then Marc realised how rude that sounded. ‘I apologise. I didn’t meant it to come out like that.’

      Laurie didn’t look in the slightest bit offended. She simply laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m under no illusions that I’m the next supermodel. I’m thirty years old, I’m a mum, I have lumpy bits, and I have days when my hair needs stuffing under a hat so nobody can see how frizzy it looks.’ She smiled. ‘And I also have days when I look utterly fabulous. But they’re the rare ones. Dog-walking isn’t exactly the time or place to wear a little black dress and high heels.’

      At the W-word, the Labrador deserted his post at Marc’s feet, rushed over to Laurie, put his paws on her knee and licked her face hopefully. She rolled her eyes and petted him. ‘No, Cocoa, I didn’t mean now. You know as well as I do that walkies is when I get home from work and before I collect Izzy from school.’

      Marc couldn’t help smiling. He liked Laurie. She was warm and bubbly, yet at the same time she was very down-to-earth.

      ‘Sorry about that.’ When she switched her attention back to him, he noticed just how blue her eyes were. Almost as bright as the forget-me-nots in his garden. ‘Neil. No, he’s not difficult. He just thinks that he’s the