Caroline Anderson - Nothing Left to Give

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Cover

Title Page Nothing Left to Give Caroline Anderson www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Copyright

THE surgery was modern, purpose-built and a huge improvement on her last place of work. Instead of a tatty, litter-strewn pavement and a door straight off the street, the path from the car park to the entrance led through a landscaped garden filled with carefully tended roses, and the air was heavy with their scent.

In the distance Beth could hear farm machinery—haymaking? Probably not; it was the middle of September. Harvesting, then? She didn’t even know that much about the countryside, and yet here she was, in Barnham Market in Suffolk, about to be interviewed for a part-time temporary job that she wasn’t even sure she wanted.

She stifled a disbelieving laugh. She didn’t really know what she was doing there at all—except that she had no job now, and this would at least give her the chance to find out if she liked living in the country, by no means a foregone conclusion since she had never done it before.

In fact her total contact with the country consisted of a few picnics in the company of a load of townies who knew no more about it than she did!

She sighed and locked the car. Oh, well, she was here now; she might as well have the interview.

The interior of the practice was light, airy and filled with plants, a far cry from the last place with its dreary rooms and scuffed lino floors. Here, rich blue-grey carpet tiles covered the floor in the reception area, and the chairs looked comfortable, grouped around a big table stacked neatly with magazines from Country Living to Farmer’s Weekly. There were two women sitting in the waiting-room, both obviously pregnant, and a toddler under a table chattering happily to a big yellow teapot. There was probably an ante-natal clinic going on.

She went up to the glass hatch into the reception office and smiled at the pretty middle-aged receptionist. ‘Hello, I’m Beth Turner—I’ve got an interview at three with Dr Pendragon.’

Oh, yes—take a seat, would you? Dr Pendragon will be back in a minute—he’s just had to go out on a call. He shouldn’t be long. The nurse’ll be free soon.’

She went obediently and sat down, among the pregnant women and the scattered toys, and pondered her fate.

Could be worse, she thought as she eyed the child. London had been, after all. Nothing, but nothing could be worse than that—the incessant traffic, the noise, the smell—really, she thought, you’d imagine you’d get used to it after all these years, but no. Not her, at any rate. She still loathed the noises, and as for the traffic fumes ——

‘Read.’

She blinked. The toddler pushed the book into her hand, climbed on to her lap and waited expectantly, his grubby cherub’s face turned up to hers. A familiar pang shot through her, but she ruthlessly ignored it.

‘No, darling—–’

She turned to the mother. ‘It’s all right—really. I don’t mind.’

‘Are you sure?’

She nodded, and the little boy pushed the book at her again. ‘Read!’

‘Say please.’

‘Peese.’

She dredged up a smile and opened the book. ‘Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Thomas —’

Me Thomas.’

She looked at him. ‘Are you? Isn’t that funny, both of you called Thomas!’

He plopped his thumb in his mouth and nodded, snuggling back down against her, and she turned back to the text again. She was barely started when a nurse appeared at her elbow.

‘Miss Turner? I’m Julie Rudd, the practice nurse. Would you like to come through to my room and we can have a chat?’

Beth slid the reluctant Thomas to the floor, handed him the book and followed her through the big double doors into the corridor outside the surgeries. ‘Sorry Dr Pendragon’s still out—he’s usually very reliable, but things don’t always go according to plan.’

Beth nearly laughed. If things had gone according to plan, she wouldn’t be here now. She smiled her understanding.

‘Cup of tea?’

‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’

‘We may as well go in Gideon’s office—he’ll be back any time now, I expect. Never mind, perhaps we can get started without him. Here, take a seat for a second, I’ve put the kettle on.’

While she waited for Julie to return, Beth looked round. You could tell a lot about a man from his office, she’d discovered, and Gideon Pendragon was no exception. For one thing he didn’t try and hide his family, she thought with a little twist of almost-forgotten pain. There were pictures on the desk—a boy in his late teens, dark, strikingly good-looking; a girl of about twelve, with the same fine dark looks and superb bone-structure; and a little girl, only three or so, with a moppet of fluffy blonde curls and brilliant blue eyes above a cherub’s smile.

‘Lovely kids.’

Beth jumped and turned. She had been miles away, in London with Matthew and the family he had denied.

‘Yes—yes, they are.’

She took the cup of tea and sat back in the chair, preparing to be grilled. It didn’t happen. Julie asked a few very general questions, flicked through her application and smiled.

‘I can’t think why you want to work here, but as far as I’m concerned you’re heaven-sent,’ she told Beth. ‘Since Stephanie left last week I’ve been rushed off my feet, and you’re available now, aren’t you?’

Beth nodded. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Good. That’s brilliant. When Gideon comes in I’ll tell him to rubber-stamp you.’ She laughed and stood up. ‘Will you excuse me? I’ve got an asthma clinic at four and I really ought to go and prepare some worksheets for the group. He won’t be long—help yourself to more tea.’

She went, pulling the door to behind her, and left Beth alone in the surgery. She didn’t have more tea. For some reason she discovered she was nervous, and another cup would have sat heavily on her butterflies. Perhaps I should, she thought with a soft laugh. Maybe it would drown them.

She looked at the photos again, picking up the one of the baby and tracing the froth of curls thoughtfully with a neat, pink-tipped finger.

Gideon, she thought, rolling the name round on her tongue, tasting it. Gideon Pendragon. Unusual name. A mixture of old Cornish and American mid-west, hard, reliable, yet with a dash of excitement.

She gave a snort of laughter. He was probably short, fat and balding!

He was also late.

She put the photo down and paced across to the window. She was getting irritated. Couldn’t someone else have gone out on the call for him? It really wasn’t good enough. It was nearly four o’clock already!