Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,53

to turn up at the surgery and find him; to ask him how he was, and comfort him, and tell him that things were going to work out for him if only he trusted her. And, more than that, Chloe felt a powerful need to tell him she loved him, that she’d been wrong to react the way she had when they’d kissed, and that love could see them through this together. But that was the last thing he would want, or need, at the moment – yet another woman complicating his life.

Never mind, she told herself. Love was giving, not receiving. She loved Tom Carlyle, and she was going to give him all she could in the way of help. She had no right to expect anything in return.

Chloe attacked the emails and paperwork which had built up that afternoon in her absence, and it was only when she felt droplets on her hands on the keyboard that she noticed her cheeks were wet.

Chapter Eleven

The approach came out of nowhere that afternoon, and was all the more frightening for it.

Chloe had done all she could for the day, as regards both her work and her investigation into Tom’s predicament, and she decided to spend some time with Jake. He was clamouring to go outside, so she strapped him into his pushchair and set off on a variation of her usual walk around the lanes near the cottage.

The brilliant late-afternoon light bathed the fields, picking out and enhancing the bright colours of wild flowers. A soft summer breeze ruffled the grass and brought with it the distant lowing of cows. Such peace around us, Chloe thought, and yet such turmoil within our hearts and our lives. It was the story of the human race, she supposed.

There was very little traffic on this particular road, so every vehicle was noteworthy. The one approaching in the distance was travelling slowly enough that Chloe had plenty of time to move over to the side with the pushchair. As the car drew nearer, Chloe saw there was something vaguely familiar about it. It was a red Mercedes, not a common sight around Pemberham.

The car slowed ten yards ahead of her, then stopped. Chloe assumed it was somebody from out of town, wanting to ask directions, until the driver’s door opened and a woman stepped out.

She was tall, with expensively teased and highlighted blonde hair, a poised, slender figure, and dark sunglasses perched on regal cheekbones. Chloe recognised her immediately.

Rebecca.

The woman stood by her car, her head tilted back a fraction, her feet slightly apart and clad in chic if precarious-looking high heels. One hand rested on her hip, the other on the roof of the car. It was an assured pose, arrogant and aggressive in equal measure.

‘Chloe Edwards.’

It was a statement, not a question. Chloe said, ‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘You need to back off.’

Chloe glanced around her. ‘You’re standing in front of me, and you’re saying I need to back off?’

‘You know what I mean.’ The woman’s voice had an edge to it. It was an educated voice, one that was used to being paid attention to and obeyed.

Chloe said, her own voice as steady as she could manage, ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.’

Rebecca crossed one elegant ankle in front of the other. ‘But you know who I am.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘”Of course”.’ Chloe didn’t think she had a particularly distinctive accent but Rebecca succeeded in mimicking it uncannily. ‘I suppose you would know who I was. Conspiring with your boyfriend to keep my daughter away from me.’

‘Tom’s not my “boyfriend”’, Chloe said, unease starting to creep up her back. She glanced down at Jake in the pushchair but he was asleep. ‘He’s a friend, that’s all.’

‘A friend who gropes his female patients, it seems,’ Rebecca said, her voice like a whiplash.

‘Yes, well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Chloe retorted. She immediately regretted saying it. She didn’t want to inflame the situation, just wanted to get away from this woman as quickly as she could.

Rebecca took a step towards her, then another, her heels clicking on the tarmac in the quiet haze of the afternoon. Chloe stood her ground, though her instinct was to turn the pushchair aside and interpose herself between her son and Rebecca. She scanned the surroundings again. There wasn’t another living soul in sight. How unbalanced was the woman, she wondered? Was she likely to attack Chloe, even with her son present? Chloe felt her pulse