Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,26

I’m beginning to see that I jumped the gun. She probably just wanted to talk to me this morning, nothing more.’

‘So what now?’

Tom rocked a palm. ‘Now? I don’t want to let Kelly out of my sight, ever, and at the same time I know that’s crazy, that I can’t keep her wrapped up in cotton wool. I can’t ask her to run screaming every time she sees her mother, because I’ve vowed not to poison her against Rebecca. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.’ He arched his back, working out a crick in his neck. ‘I’ll just have to carry on as before, but be a bit more vigilant, that’s all.’

***

After Tom and Kelly had gone, yet another round of his profuse thanks echoing in her ears, Chloe found she couldn’t concentrate on her work and took Jake for a walk in his pushchair, hoping he’d doze off, as he was always better for an afternoon nap. She strolled the lanes between the cottages in this part of Pemberham, relishing the tranquillity of the early summer afternoon, the surrounding fields in humming bloom.

Her thoughts returned to what Tom had told her. She was relieved that his fears had likely been exaggerated, something he himself realised. Kelly probably wasn’t in any danger. But Chloe recognised that her relief was for another reason. The ex-wife, Rebecca, the glamorous figure who seemed to have stepped out of the pages of a glossy fashion magazine, hadn’t been visiting Tom the other afternoon for the purposes of a romantic tryst. She’d been there to issue demands. From what Tom had said, there seemed to be little danger that he and Rebecca might be getting back together. And Chloe acknowledged she was glad about this.

He was a decent man, she’d come to understand. A genuinely kind person who was fiercely devoted to his daughter. Yes, he was attractive too, in a sexual sense. And yes, if Chloe had met him ten years earlier, he would have been her type. But she couldn’t ignore the recent past; couldn’t blot out the fact that she had no time to consider the indulgence of a romantic relationship when she had to concentrate on building a life for her son. Couldn’t get past the knowledge that she was a widow, and that her beloved husband had died because a doctor, a member of the same clique as Dr Tom Carlyle, had failed him through negligence and arrogance.

So: Chloe couldn’t possibly become involved with Tom in a romantic sense. But what was there to stop them being friends? He was somebody who apparently didn’t have a huge number of friends, or at least not close ones. Wasn’t that why he’d rung her to ask for her help in picking Kelly up in an emergency? Tom was, after all, a relative newcomer in town, even though he’d grown up there, had been back now for six months and, from what she could see, was widely liked and respected by the community. Perhaps Tom too was in need of a friend rather than a romantic partner.

And he clearly needed support now, at this difficult time, when he faced the potential trauma of the loss of his daughter. Chloe hadn’t asked more about Rebecca, or why it was that Tom had custody of Kelly in the first place when the mother almost always was the one to do so after a separation. Was Tom’s ex-wife a criminal? A drinker? Had she been abusive towards their daughter? But if any of these possibilities were true, why was Tom worried now that he might lose a custody battle? Surely anything that had counted against Rebecca in the past would still be considered relevant today?

They were questions Chloe had felt it wasn’t her place to ask, and until she got to know Tom better and learned how much he wanted to share, it still wasn’t. But as a journalist, Chloe had a curious nature. She liked to think it stopped short of nosiness – she certainly wasn’t a Mrs McFarland – but when a subject intrigued her, Chloe found it difficult to let go without finding out the whole truth.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by a shout and a wave. Cycling past on the other side of the lane was a man she recognised vaguely from the town. He called, ‘Hi, Chloe!’ and she waved back, embarrassed that she couldn’t remember his name. this was happening with increasing frequency, slightly familiar people or