âHEâS gorgeous!â
Jo looked down at the baby girl in her arms and smiled. âMmmâbut heâs a she.â
Sue propped her arms on the edge of the crib and laughed softly. âNot the baby, idiot. Him. Our Dr Latimer.â
âOh, him. Heâs come in, has he? Such dedication to duty on New Yearâs Day.â Jo laid the baby down on her side, covered her up and straightened. âI was just tucking up our first baby of the year. I nearly missed her arrivalâin a bit of a hurry, werenât you, sweetheart?â
The baby ignored her, and so did Sue.
âYou ought to see himâsix foot something, dark hair, laughing grey-blue eyesâ¦â
âSounds like a cliché.â
Sue gave an exasperated sigh. âLook, Jo, heâs perfect. Just what you needââ
âWhoa there! Steady on.â Jo stopped what she was doing and met her friendâs eyes. âWhat I need,â she pointed out carefully, âis calm, stability, securityââ
âFun, laughter, a social lifeââ
âA pensionââ
âPension!â Sue exploded. âWhy do you need a pension? Youâre twenty-nine!â
âThirtyâand because, as Iâve just proved, Iâm getting older.â
Sue made a rude noise and bent over the baby. âHi, sweetheart. Welcome to the world of pensions and premature ageing. Itâll be your birthday next week at this rate, you wait and see.â
Jo swatted her with the file and went out into the corridor, hiding her grin. âYouâre impossible. Iâm not interested in Dr Latimer. For all we know he could be marriedâ¦â
âUh-uh. Singleânot even divorced.â
âSo whyâs he taken a job in a quiet little seaside town in Suffolk? Heâs probably got totally unacceptable habits, or halitosis.â
Sue followed her down the corridor to the nursing station. âNo halitosisâ¦â
âAnd of course you got close enough to find out.â
âOh, yes. Matron introduced us. I swear, if I wasnât already marriedâ¦â She paused. âHeâs lovely, Jo, really.â Her eyes grew serious. âHe is. You wait till you meet him. He could be Mr Right.â
âIâm sure he isâfor someone, but that someone isnât me, Sue. I donât believe in happy ever after.â
Sue propped herself against the wall and watched as Jo dropped the file back into the trolley. âSo have an affair.â
Jo laughed. âIn Yoxburgh? Got any more good ideas?â
âI mean it. Itâs time you got out and had a bit of fun. I think itâs amazing that youâre as normal as you are, the life you lead. Youâre closeted up like a nunâand what about Laura? Is she going to grow up thinking that men are a bad idea and living alone is the norm?â
Jo shook her head in disbelief and turned towards her friend.
âLeave it, Sue, please. Laura and I are fine. We donât need anyone else. I know youâre only trying to help, but weâre quite happy the way we are.â
Sue shrugged. âHave it your own way.â
âI will. Weâre fine.â Jo sighed inwardly. It wasnât a lie. They were happy, more or less. Sometimes they were happier than others, but most of the time they rubbed along all right, and if there were nights sometimes when the bed seemed cold and emptyâwell, they were few and far between, and she had plenty of friends to pass the time with.
She didnât admit to herself that passing the time was all she did, putting one foot in front of the other, taking the days one at a time, shuffling on towards retirement and the hereafter with little enthusiasm for anything but Laura and the mums and babies in her careâ
Lord, how maudlin!
âStop matchmaking, Sue,â she told her friend firmly. âAnyway, havenât you got anything better to do?â
âOh, tonsâall my PNs. You can tell me what you think of him later. See you!â
Jo watched her go despairingly. She had a few postnatal checks to do herself, but first of all, since Dr Latimer was in the building, he could make himself useful.
She quickened her stride, bustling down the corridor towards the entrance, and as she rounded the corner she almost fell over a group of people standing clustered in Reception.
Matron, the receptionist, a nursing sisterâand him. At least, she imagined it was himâand, yes, he was gorgeous, she supposed, if your taste ran to that sort of thing.
Tall, dark, handsome, clichédâthe stuff of fiction. As far as Jo was concerned, though, he was just a man like all the others.
Then he looked at her, those storm-grey eyes meeting hers and holding, and, like a display of baked beans in a supermarket, she felt as if someone had yanked out a tin from the bottom row and tumbled her into a heap at his feet.
âAh, Joâperfect timing.â
She blinked, breaking the spell, and looked away. To her astonishment she was still standing, rather puzzled by the strange hiccup in her heart rate and the fizzing in her veins.
Not because of him, surely? Men just didnât do that to her!