Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,28

try to pry Kelly away from me. Of course I’m going to speculate, to assume the worst.’

‘Oh my God.’ She gazed through the windscreen, her tone wondering. ‘You thought I was going to kidnap Kelly.’

‘I didn’t know what to think. And can you blame me?’

‘You’re paranoid, Tom, do you know that? Delusional.’

‘And I suppose you’re now going to use that as evidence that I’m not fit to look after Kelly.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Give me a break.’

She said nothing. He watched her for a moment.

‘So why did you ring to ask if I was at work, Rebecca?’

‘Because I was going to ask to talk to you. I changed my mind when I spoke to your receptionist.’

‘Talk to me about what?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I’m not budging on the custody thing, Rebecca. I mean it. So you can save your breath.’ A thought struck him. ‘But why are you in Pemberham anyway? If you’d wanted to talk, why couldn’t you just phone from London or wherever it is you are this week?’

‘I’m… staying here for a few days.’ She didn’t make eye contact.

‘Why?’

This time she turned her face to him, cool defiance in her eyes. ‘None of your business. It’s a free country. I can stay where I please.’

‘Oh, come on, Rebecca. You mean to tell me you decided on a whim to spend a few days in a little Cotswolds town that just happens to be where your former husband and your daughter are living, soon after you’ve announced you’re going to fight your ex for custody? You expect me to believe that?’

‘I didn’t say… I don’t want us to fight, Tom.’ Her voice trembled and for a moment he wondered if she was going to start crying. But she held her tears in check. ‘I haven’t taken legal steps yet. I just – I guess I was hoping that by meeting you in person again I’d be able to persuade you.’

‘Despite the fact that the last time we met, a few days ago, your parting words to me were, and I quote: “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Some people, quite a lot of people, in fact, would see just the glimmer of a threat in a statement like that, Rebecca.’

Once more she sat in silence, staring ahead.

Tom felt drained, suddenly. He slumped in his seat. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘Just around. Doesn’t matter.’

‘I’ll give you a lift, if you want.’

‘No. My car’s parked nearby.’ She climbed out without looking at him.

For the second time in a few days he watched her walk to her Mercedes and get in.

After she’d pulled away Tom sat behind the wheel of his own car, too bewildered to trust himself to drive. Had he completely misjudged the situation? Had Rebecca’s threat of a few days earlier simply been the petulant, throwaway remark of a young mother who profoundly regretted her decision to renounce custody of her only child? And had she come back to Pemberham for the reason she’d told him, namely to try to negotiate some sort of agreement with him?

If that was the case, then he’d done her an injustice. She’d betrayed him during their marriage with her new lover, Andrew, and she’d been petty and often spiteful during the divorce, but she was still a human being, still capable of feeling guilt and regret, and of changing her ways. Was she more to be pitied now than feared, a desperate young woman who realised she’d made a terrible mistake in voluntarily separating from her child and perhaps even from Tom?

And yet… and yet… There was something about Rebecca’s account that didn’t ring true to Tom. She’d given superficially plausible explanations for each individual piece of the mystery, but the whole thing didn’t hang together convincingly. Clearly she’d been hanging around the nursery, and even if her intention hadn’t been to spirit Kelly away, Tom had been right in his assumption that she’d go there.

Then a thought came to him like a blade of ice to the heart. Rebecca had seen Chloe put Kelly in her car and drive away. Might she have followed her home? Had she noted her address, and decided not to confront her then and there but rather to speak to Tom about the mystery woman first? In which case, was it possible Rebecca was on her way to Chloe’s right at that very moment?

Tom rubbed his knuckles across his forehead in frustration. Get a grip, Carlyle, he thought. He was being paranoid again, spinning an elaborate