Margaret McDonagh - Virgin Midwife, Playboy Doctor

‘Oliver, I think you should talk to Lauren. She knows much more than I do about Chloe’s past…not that she’ll divulge any secrets. But she might have some better advice on how to gain Chloe’s confidence.’ Kate hesitated, her gaze assessing. ‘If you’re serious about this. Chloe’s not a temporary kind of girl.’

‘I know that.’ Oliver frowned, seeking a way to explain feelings he scarcely understood himself. ‘I came here to begin a different life, Kate, to settle down. This is new to me, but I’d like the chance to get to know Chloe, to see what develops. She affects me in ways I’ve never experienced before.’

‘Then I think you’ll find Lauren and I will do all we can to help.’

A slow smile curved Oliver’s mouth as hope flared inside him. He didn’t imagine wooing Chloe was going to be easy, not from the subtle, mysterious hints Kate had given him. He wasn’t even sure of himself, of what he was getting into. But giving up on Chloe was not an option.

Kate stood outside Nick’s imposing stone built house, situated at the opposite end of the village to her own whitewashed cottage. Was she doing the right thing? She had managed to sound confident when she had told Chloe of her plans, but much of that bravado had evaporated. It was impossible to explain how hurt she was. Nick had genuine cause to be angry at the way he had found out about Jem—overhearing her confidential confession to Eloise that day at the surgery must have been a shock—but she didn’t feel it excused his behaviour towards her since. Today he had taken the easy way out in his eagerness to avoid her, but in doing so he had drawn Chloe, Oliver and a host of patients into their personal disagreement, and that wouldn’t do.

Having worked up a fresh head of indignation, she walked along the path to the single-storey extension where the top half of the yellow-painted stable door stood open. Inside the expensively fitted kitchen, all wood and granite and steel, Nick stood at the island unit, his back to her. Before she lost her nerve, she rapped on the door. Nick swung round in surprise, his face creasing in a scowl of displeasure, the expression in his eyes cooling, leaving her in little doubt that she was not welcome. Tough.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded, voice harsh.

‘We need to talk, Nick.’

He folded his arms across his chest, withdrawing into himself. ‘We have nothing to talk about.’

‘You’re wrong.’ As he turned and left the room without another word, she reached over the lip of the door and opened the bottom half, swinging it open and following him into the main part of the house, finding him in the airy sitting room. ‘Don’t walk away from me!’

‘You’re trespassing.’

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Usually slow to ire, Kate wanted to shake the man. ‘How long are you going to keep this up? It isn’t going to go away by ignoring it.’

Nick faced her, his scowl deepening. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t want to talk about it. I feel betrayed, I—’

‘ You feel betrayed? That’s rich. For once in your life stop and think how other people might feel. How I might feel.’ Her hands clenched to fists at her sides. ‘What we did, Nick, we did together. It was a terrible time, we needed each other. Then we both admitted it was wrong and we never spoke of it again. I had the guilt of betraying James while he was out there, dying, his body never found. How do you think it was for me, coming to terms with losing my husband, discovering I was pregnant from my one night of comfort with you? What was I supposed to do? Come and tell you and Annabel about it? Or would you rather I had sprung it on you a few years later while you were going through your own desperate grief at losing your wife? When would have been the “right time”, Nick?’

He looked surprised at her outburst but no more approachable. ‘I don’t know. I don’t have any answers. What do you expect of me?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all,’ she shot back, knowing she had long ago given up expecting anything from the man she had always loved but who had chosen another woman over her, a woman for whom he was still grieving.

‘What about Lucy, Jack and Edward?’ he demanded, naming his grown-up children. ‘What do you think this will do to them?’

‘I have no idea. All I do know is that they are adults, exceptional people who have their own lives and responsibilities. You can tell them or not, as you think fit. What really worries you? That they’ll think less of you?’

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Nick turned away to stare out of the window. ‘My relationships with all three of them haven’t been easy.’

‘No.’ Kate resisted pointing out that he was largely to blame for that. It wouldn’t help the current situation. ‘The person who most concerns me is Jeremiah. He’s only a child. I don’t want him hurt.’

‘I repeat, what do you want?’ he challenged, swinging back to face her, his expression fierce.

Kate held her ground. ‘I have no intention of making demands on you, or of publicly outing you as Jem’s father. If you would like to spend more time getting to know him until you decide what you want to do, that’s fine with me, but I won’t have him hurt, used or tossed aside if it gets too much.’ Taking advantage of Nick’s continued silence, she pressed on. ‘At work, I want you to at least be civil. It isn’t fair on the other staff, or the patients, that you treat me like a pariah. Today was embarrassing for everyone, especially Chloe and Oliver. And it isn’t right for people like the Trevellyans and the Fiddicks that you put our personal business before their medical needs. They are your patients, Nick. We have to see their journeys through with them, even if you cut back some of your other antenatal work for patients not on your list. We’re adults. We made adult decisions, adult choices, adult mistakes. We have to bear the consequences like adults,’ she finished, the fight draining out of her.

A muscle pulsed along Nick’s jaw and he evaded her gaze. They stood in tense silence for several moments until Kate could bear it no longer. Her shoulders slumped. She knew him well enough of old to know he wasn’t about to unbend, not until he had time to think things over for himself. If only she didn’t still care for him, if she didn’t still love him, despite all their ups and downs and all that had happened in their years of friendship.

‘Think about it, Nick,’ she advised quietly. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

She was shaking, her pulse racing from the fraught encounter, as she walked back towards the centre of the village. Finally she was passing the library and approaching the cluster of six cottages known as Fisherman’s Row, which occupied the last of the space before the harbour bridge and the turning to Bridge Street. Forcing back the threat of tears, she stopped outside one of the colourful old cottages and rang Chloe’s doorbell.

With Jem safely occupied, kicking a ball around the small enclosed garden at the rear of her cottage, Chloe dried her hands and went to answer the front door.

‘Hi,’ she greeted, stepping back to let Kate enter, noticing the glisten of unshed tears in her brown eyes and the paleness of her face, presumably evidence of her recent encounter with Nick. ‘Come on in. I’ve just made some fresh lemonade.’

‘OK.’

‘Jem’s out at the back. He’s been fine. He wore Pirate and Cyclops out in no time,’ Chloe chattered on, gesturing to the two cats curled up asleep side by side in an armchair.

Kate managed a smile. ‘Thanks, Chloe. For everything.’

‘No problem.’ Returning the smile, she poured two glasses of the ice-cold, tangy drink and handed one to her friend. ‘Would you like to sit a while?’