Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,9

almost done anyway, as it happened. As he joined the short queue at the checkout, Kelly said, ‘Who are they? That lady and that boy?’

‘Mrs Edwards and Jake.’

‘I know that.’ She didn’t quite roll her eyes. ‘But who are they? Are they your friends?’

Kelly hadn’t quite grasped the notion of “patients” yet. Tom said, ‘They’re people from Daddy’s work.’

Chloe was already outside, whirling Jake in the air so that he squealed. Tom raised a hand and ambled over, Kelly at his side. The little group made their way to his Ford and he retrieved the monkey, which Jake pounced on with a yelp.

Chloe put out her hand. ‘Thanks again.’

He smiled. ‘All part of the service.’

Had that come out wrong? She retrieved her hand, her own smile fading a degree or two. With a small wave she turned and made her way with son and laden trolley towards her own car.

Not wanting to stare, Tom began to load daughter and shopping into the Ford. Had he come across as lecherous? He didn’t think he tended to, and nobody had ever accused him of it. Had she read some innuendo in the word “service”? Or was he just being oversensitive, seeing hostility in someone whose approval, if he was honest with himself, he thought he’d rather like?

Shaking his head not for the first time at the mysteries of the human species, he set off for home.

***

After a final check of her email to see if the editor at the Pemberham Gazette had responded to the article she’d submitted – he hadn’t, apart from an nitial acknowledgement of receipt, but then again it had been less than twelve hours since she’d sent it, for goodness’ sake – Chloe closed her laptop and took her cup of tea over to the small sofa. Jake had been in bed for an hour, and wasn’t likely to wake until morning if past experience was anything to go by. She settled herself into the comfort of the sofa and drew her legs up under her. From where she was sitting she could see distant hills, dark against the twilight sky. A red sky at night... She supposed around these parts, there were indeed shepherds who took such sayings to heart.

It was times like these that Chloe found the most difficult. The evening stillness, when there was no Jake to distract her, no work deadline to engross her attention. At these times it was hardest to keep the brooding at bay.

She picked up a copy of the local newspaper, both for its content and from a professional point of view, to familiarise herself with its style; but she’d bought it when they had arrived, two evenings ago, and had already read it from cover to cover. Chloe tried her novel, one she’d been meaning to get round to reading for months now, but found herself going over the same page time and again, the sentences failing to take hold. At last, giving in to the inevitable, she cast the book aside and allowed herself the indulgence of memory. It was the only way she’d get any sleep later on.

It had all happened almost a year earlier, in June. Mark had come home from work one evening – he was a partner in a City legal firm, dealing mainly with tax law – in an uncharacteristically bad temper. After he’d snapped at her and Jake for the third time, she’d frowned her puzzlement and he’d stopped short and apologised.

Once Jake was in bed he said, ‘Sorry about tonight. It’s this headache. Woke up with it and it’s been there all day.’

She asked if he’d tried various anti-inflammatories, and he said he had, without success. Moving behind him, Chloe massaged his neck, but felt none of the usual knots of tension there.

It turned out that the headaches hadn’t started that morning, but had been present for a few weeks now, on and off. Never a complainer, Mark hadn’t mentioned them to Chloe. But while they normally passed after a few minutes, the initial sharp stabbing fading to a dull ache which gradually disappeared, that morning Mark had woken with a lance of agony behind his eyes and very little relief through the day.

‘It’s been getting in the way of work today,’ he admitted. ‘I haven’t been concentrating, I’ve let things slip.’

Chloe picked up the phone handset from a nearby coffee table. ‘I’m calling the doctor.’

‘I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow –’

‘You need attending to now.’

‘No.’ He made a grab