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A Baby for Eve
Maggie Kingsley


Enter into the world of high-flying Doctors as they navigate the pressures of modern medicine and find escape, passion, comfort and love – in each other’s arms!Her baby dream come true?Nurse Eve Dwyer hasn’t set eyes on Dr Tom Cornish in twenty years. Why has he come back to Penhally Bay now, after she’s built a life for herself and lived through her pain for the baby they never had and Tom never knew about? Because he wants Eve. After a lifetime of running, he’s finally realised he’ll never love anyone more.But the flood waters are rising in Penhally, and Tom is called to head a rescue. He has little opportunity to make amends with Eve. Is it too late, or is there still a chance for them to have the happiness and family they both deserve so much?BRIDES OF PENHALLY BAY Bachelor doctors become husbands and fathers – in a place where hearts are made whole.







Welcome to Penhally Bay!

Nestled on the rugged Cornish coast is the picturesque town of Penhally. With sandy beaches, breathtaking landscapes and a warm, bustling community—it is the lucky tourist who stumbles upon this little haven.

But now Mills & Boon


Medical™ Romance is giving readers the unique opportunity to visit this fictional coastal town through our brand-new twelve-book continuity… You are welcomed to a town where the fishing boats bob up and down in the bay, surfers wait expectantly for the waves, friendly faces line the cobbled streets and romance flutters on the Cornish sea breeze…

We introduce you to Penhally Bay Surgery, where you can meet the team led by caring and commanding Dr Nick Tremayne. Each book will bring you an emotional, tempting romance—from Mediterranean heroes to a sheikh with a guarded heart. There’s royal scandal that leads to marriage for a baby’s sake, and handsome playboys are tamed by their blushing brides! Top-notch city surgeons win adoring smiles from the community, and little miracle babies will warm your hearts. But that’s not all…

With Penhally Bay you get double the reading pleasure… as each book also follows the life of damaged hero Dr Nick Tremayne. His story will pierce your heart—a tale of lost love and the torment of forbidden romance. Dr Nick’s unquestionable, unrelenting skill would leave any patient happy in the knowledge that she’s in safe hands, and is a testament to the ability and dedication of all the staff at Penhally Bay Surgery. Come in and meet them for yourself…


Maggie Kingsley says she can’t remember a time when she didn’t want to be a writer, but she put her dream on hold and decided to ‘be sensible’ and become a teacher instead. Five years at the chalk face was enough to convince her she wasn’t cut out for it, and she ‘escaped’ to work for a major charity. Unfortunately—or fortunately!—a back injury ended her career, and when she and her family moved to a remote cottage in the north of Scotland it was her family who nagged her into attempting to make her dream a reality. Combining a love of romantic fiction with a knowledge of medicine gleaned from the many professionals in her family, Maggie says she can’t now imagine ever being able to have so much fun legally doing anything else!

Recent titles by the same author:

A WIFE WORTH WAITING FOR

THE CONSULTANT’S ITALIAN KNIGHT

A CONSULTANT CLAIMS HIS BRIDE

THE GOOD FATHER



Dear Reader

When my editor phoned to ask if I’d like to take part in an exciting new Medical™ Romance series called Brides of Penhally Bay, I said, ‘Ummm…who, or what, is Penhally?’ The minute she told me about the fictitious Cornish town I was interested. Then, when she told me the names of the other authors who would be taking part, I was hooked. But it was when she told me in what way she’d like me to contribute I knew I would never be able to say no.

There was Tom Cornish, for a start. On the surface this man has it all. Good-looks, a high-powered job as head of operations at the worldwide rescue team of Deltaron, and the complete dedication of his team. But does Tom really have it all? And what about Eve? She and Tom haven’t seen each other in twenty years, and she’s now a dedicated, responsible nurse, a pillar of the community. But she has a secret. A secret which will rock Tom on his heels and change both his and Eve’s life for ever.

I confess I grew to love both these characters. They got into my head, and into my heart, and when I finally said goodbye to them it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. They’d become friends. People I’d both laughed with and cried with. People I desperately wanted to help. And one of the joys for me as a writer has been that all the writers who contributed to the series had the same aim. We all wanted to create something really special to commemorate Mills & Boon’s one hundredth birthday. I think we succeeded with the Penhally series, and I hope you do, too!

Best wishes

Maggie




A BABY FOR EVE


BY

MAGGIE KINGSLEY




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHAPTER ONE

A WRY smile curved Eve Dwyer’s lips as the door of St Mark’s Church creaked open then closed again. Somebody was cutting it fine. Very fine. Another five minutes and the wedding ceremony would have begun, and curiously she glanced over her shoulder to see who the latecomer might be only for the smile on her face to freeze.

It was him. His thick black hair might be lightly flecked with grey now, and there were deep lines on his forehead that hadn’t been there twenty years ago, but Eve would have recognised the man walking rapidly towards an empty seat near the front of the church anywhere. Tom Cornish was back in Penhally Bay and, if she hadn’t been sitting in the middle of a packed pew, surrounded by her colleagues from the village’s medical practice, Eve would have taken to her heels and run.

‘Good heavens,’ Kate Althorp, the village’s senior midwife, whispered from Eve’s left. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

Other people were muttering the same thing, Eve noticed, seeing the number of heads suddenly craning in Tom’s direction, the nudges people were giving their neighbours. Not the younger members of the congregation. They wouldn’t remember a Dr Tom Cornish but those aged over forty-five certainly did, and not very kindly if the frowns on some faces were anything to go by.

‘Is that who?’ Lauren Nightingale asked from Eve’s right, but Kate didn’t have time to answer the physiotherapist.

The organist had launched into the wedding march, which meant the bride had arrived. A bride Tom Cornish wouldn’t have known from a cake of soap, Eve thought, gripping her order of service card so tightly that the embossed card bent beneath her fingers. Both Alison Myers and her bridegroom, Jack Tremayne, would have been children when Tom had last been in Penhally Bay so why was he here, and why had he come back when he’d always sworn he never would?

‘Doesn’t Alison look lovely?’ Lauren sighed as the girl walked past them, radiant in a simple long gown of cream satin.

Alison did, but any enjoyment Eve might have felt in the occasion had gone. The flowers in the church, which had smelt so sweet just a few minutes ago, now seemed cloying. The crush of bodies, which had once felt so companionable, now simply felt oppressive, and even the sight of Jack and Alison’s small sons, walking solemnly down the aisle behind Alison, failed to give her pleasure.

‘Eve, are you OK?’

Kate was gazing curiously at her, and Eve faked a smile.

‘I’m fine,’ she murmured. ‘It’s just a bit…crowded.’

The midwife chuckled. ‘Penhally loves a wedding. A christening’s good, but a wedding is the only thing guaranteed to get the whole village out.’

But not Tom Cornish, Eve thought, stiffening slightly as she saw him half turn in his seat. Tom who had once said marriage was a prison he had no intention of ever inhabiting. Tom who’d said he wanted to be free, to travel, and was damned if he was going to rot away in the village in which he had been born.

‘Oh, aren’t they sweet?’ Lauren exclaimed as Alison’s three-year-old son, Sam, and Jack’s equally young son, Freddie, held out the red velvet cushions they were carrying so everyone could see the wedding rings sitting on them.

‘Yes,’ was all Eve could manage as a collective sigh of approval ran round the congregation.

Why was Tom here—why? She’d read in a medical magazine a few years back that he’d been appointed head of operations at Deltaron, the world-famous international rescue team, so he should have been somewhere abroad, helping the victims of some disaster, not sitting in the front pew of St Mark’s, resurrecting all her old heartache, and anger, and pain.

‘Eve, are you quite sure you’re OK?’ Kate whispered, the worry in her eyes rekindling.

‘I…I have a bit of a headache, that’s all,’ Eve lied. ‘It’s the flowers—the perfume—strong smells always give me a headache.’

Kate looked partially convinced. Not wholly convinced, but at least partially, and Eve gripped her order of service card even tighter.

Pull yourself together, she told herself as the service continued and she found her eyes continually straying away from the young couple standing in front of Reverend Kenner towards Tom. For God’s sake, you’re forty-two years old, not a girl any more. Tom probably won’t even remember you, far less recognise you, so pull yourself together, but she couldn’t. No matter how often she told herself she was being stupid, overreacting, all she wanted was to leave. Immediately.

‘Eve, you look terrible,’ Kate murmured when Jack and Alison had walked back down the aisle as man and wife, and everyone in the congregation began to get to their feet. ‘I have some paracetamol in my bag—’

‘Air,’ Eve muttered. ‘I just… I need some fresh air.’

And to get as far away from here as I can before Tom sees me, she added mentally as she hurried to the church door and out into the sunshine. She wasn’t tall—just five feet five—so, if she was quick, she could lose herself amongst the congregation, then hurry down Harbour Road and go home. She’d tell everyone at the practice on Monday she’d had a migraine, and her colleagues would understand, she knew they would. All she had to do was keep walking, not look back, and—

‘Eve Dwyer. By all that’s wonderful, it’s you, isn’t it?’

His voice hadn’t changed at all, Eve thought as she came to a halt, moistening lips that had suddenly gone dry. It was as deep and mellow as it had always been, still with that faint trace of Cornish burr, and she wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard him, but she couldn’t.

‘Eve Dwyer,’ Tom repeated, shaking his head in clear disbelief as she turned slowly to face him. ‘I never expected to run into you within minutes of coming back to Penhally. It’s Tom Cornish,’ he added a little uncertainly when she stared up at him, completely unable to say a word. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me?’

How could I? she wanted to reply, but she didn’t.

‘Of course I remember you, Tom,’ she said instead. ‘You’re…you’re looking well.’

He was. Up close, she could see he was heavier now than he had been at twenty-four but on him the extra weight looked good, and the grey in his hair, and the lines on his forehead, gave his face a strength it hadn’t possessed before, but it was his eyes that took her breath away.

For years those startlingly green eyes had plagued her dreams, teasing her, laughing at her, and she’d told herself that time and absence had created an unreal image of him, but they were every bit as green as she had remembered, and every bit as potent, and she had to swallow, hard.

‘So…’

‘So…’

They’d spoken together, and she felt a tingle of heat darken her cheeks.

‘I didn’t realise you knew Alison and Jack,’ she said to fill the silence.

‘Who?’ He frowned.

‘The couple whose wedding you’ve just been at,’ she declared, moving swiftly to one side so the people who were still leaving the church could get past her.

‘Never met either of them in my life,’ he said.

‘Then why come to their wedding?’ she asked in confusion.

‘I arrived in Penhally just before twelve o’clock, found the place deserted, and when I asked at the shop I was told everybody was probably here.’

Which still didn’t explain why he’d come.

‘Tom—’

‘Tom Cornish.’ Kate beamed. ‘What in the world brings you back to Penhally? I thought you were still in the States.’

For a second Tom stared blankly at the midwife, clearly trying to place her, then grinned. ‘Kate Templar, right?’

‘Kate Althorp now, Tom.’ She laughed. ‘Have been for years.’

And he hadn’t answered Kate’s question either, Eve thought.

‘Are you coming to the reception?’ Kate continued, waving to Reverend Kenner as he hurried towards his car. ‘It’s a buffet at The Smugglers’ Inn so there’ll be plenty of food, and I’m sure Alison and Jack would be delighted to meet you.’

‘And I’m sure Tom has better things to do than go to a reception that will be packed with doctors and nurses who’ll only end up talking shop,’ Eve said quickly, and saw one of Tom’s eyebrows lift.

‘I can talk shop,’ he said. ‘I’m a doctor, too, remember, so I can talk shop with the best of them.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Afraid I might embarrass you by smashing up the furniture, getting drunk and insulting all your friends?’ he said dryly, and she crimsoned.

‘Of course not,’ she protested, though, in truth, she wasn’t one hundred per cent sure about the insults. ‘I just thought…’ She came to a halt. A small hand had slipped into hers. A hand that belonged to a little girl with long blonde hair who was staring up at her eagerly. ‘Tassie, sweetheart. Where in the world did you spring from?’

‘I’ve been out here since the wedding started,’ the ten-year-old replied. ‘Sitting on the wall, listening to the music.’

‘Oh, Tassie, love, why didn’t you come inside the church?’ Eve exclaimed, her gaze taking in the girl’s thin and worn T-shirt and her shabby cotton trousers, which weren’t nearly warm enough to withstand the cool of the early October day. ‘There’s quite a breeze blowing in from the harbour—’

‘Don’t feel the cold,’ Tassie interrupted, ‘and I’m not really wearing the right sort of clothes for a wedding. Her dress is pretty, isn’t it?’ she added, gazing wistfully towards the lychgate where Alison and Jack were having their photographs taken.

‘Yes, it’s very pretty,’ Eve murmured, her heart twisting slightly at the envy she could see in the little girl’s brown eyes. Eyes which had always seemed too large for her thin face even when she’d been a toddler. ‘Tassie, does your mother know you’re here?’

‘She said I was to get out from under her feet, so I did. She won’t be worried.’

Amanda Lovelace probably wouldn’t, Eve thought with a sigh, but that wasn’t the point.

‘Tassie—’

‘I was wondering whether I could come to the reception?’ the girl interrupted. ‘I heard Mrs Althorp say there would be lots of food, so could I come? I won’t be any trouble—I promise.’

Eve’s heart sank. Normally she couldn’t refuse Tassie anything. The child had so few treats in her life, but she didn’t want to go to the reception. She didn’t want to go anywhere but home.

‘Tassie, the reception’s not really for children,’ she began. ‘It’s more a grown-up thing.’

‘Nonsense!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘My son Jem will be there and he’s only nine. And Alison’s son Sam and Jack’s son Freddie are both going, and they’re only three, so I’m sure Tassie would enjoy it.’

‘Perhaps,’ Eve declared, ‘but I really don’t think—’

‘Oh, I do, most definitely,’ Tom interrupted. ‘If Tom Cornish can be given an invitation then I think this half-pint should have one, too.’

‘But her mother won’t know where she is,’ Eve protested, all too aware she was losing this argument, but determined to give it one last try. ‘She’ll be worried.’

Tom delved into his pocket and produced his mobile phone.

‘Not if we use the wonders of modern technology,’ he declared. ‘Give her a quick call, and then I’ll get to take two beautiful women out to lunch.’

Tassie giggled, and Eve sighed inwardly. There was nothing left to say—no argument she could come up with—and when she reluctantly took the phone Kate beamed.

‘That’s settled, then,’ the midwife said as Eve made her call then handed back the phone to Tom. ‘Tom, Eve can show you how to get to The Smugglers’ Inn if you’ve forgotten where it is, and…’ She stopped in mid-sentence as a dull, metallic thud suddenly split the air followed by the sound of breaking glass. ‘What the…?’

‘Sounds like someone’s just backed into something,’ Tom observed.

‘And no prizes for guessing who the “someone” is.’ Kate groaned as Lauren clambered out of her car, her hand pressed to her mouth.

‘Oh, come on, be fair, Kate,’ Eve protested. ‘The cars are parked really close to one another. Whose car did she hit?’

Kate frowned. ‘Don’t know. It’s a metallic blue Range Rover, not from around here by its number plate, so my guess is it belongs to some flash holidaymaker.’

Tom cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I’m the flash holiday-maker, so who is the “she” who has just reversed into my car?’

Kate looked uncomfortably at Eve, and Eve bit her lip.

‘Lauren. She’s our practice physiotherapist, and a really lovely woman, but quite dreadfully accident prone.’

And currently absolutely mortified, Eve thought as Lauren hurried towards them, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes worried.

‘I was certain I had enough space to reverse,’ she exclaimed, ‘absolutely certain, but… Does anyone know who owns the blue Range Rover?’

‘Tom does,’ Eve replied. ‘Tom, this is Lauren Nightingale.’

‘Not Florence?’ he said, and Eve rolled her eyes.

‘Tom, Lauren must have heard that joke about a million times.’

‘A million and one now, actually,’ Lauren said, ‘but that’s not the point. I’m so sorry about your car—’

‘From the looks of it, your Renault’s come off worse,’ Tom interrupted, gazing critically at his car, then at Lauren’s. ‘You’ve scraped quite a bit of paintwork off your tail, whereas you’ve only broken my indicator light cover.’

‘Which I will pay for,’ Lauren insisted, digging into her bag. ‘I have my insurance certificate in here—’

‘Look, how about I simply send you the bill for the repair, and we don’t involve our insurance companies at all?’ Tom suggested. ‘That way you won’t lose your no-claims bonus.’

‘Are you sure?’ Lauren said uncertainly, and, when Tom nodded, she extracted a notebook and a pen from her bag. ‘You’ll need my address for the bill. It’s Gatehouse Cottage. That’s—’

‘The cottage at the bottom of the drive that leads to the Manor House.’ Tom smiled when the physiotherapist looked at him in surprise. ‘I was born in Penhally, lived here for the first twenty-four years of my life, so I know where everything is.’

‘Where are you staying so I can contact you?’ Lauren asked.

‘The Anchor Hotel,’ Tom replied, taking the notebook and pen from Lauren, ‘but I won’t be there long so you’d better have my London address.’

His London address. So he didn’t live in the States any more, Eve thought as she watched him scribble in Lauren’s notebook, and he wasn’t going to be staying in The Anchor for long, but did that mean he was moving back into his old home in Penhally, or what?

‘You’re staying at The Anchor Hotel?’ Kate said before Eve could ask the questions she so desperately wanted the answers to. ‘Very posh.’

‘You mean, you’re amazed they let anyone called Cornish through the door?’ Tom said with an edge, and Kate coloured deeply.

‘Of course I didn’t mean that!’ she exclaimed. ‘I just meant…’

Her voice trailed away into awkward, embarrassed silence, and Eve came to her rescue.

‘Kate, shouldn’t you be making tracks for The Smugglers’?’ she said. ‘Alison and Jack headed off a few minutes ago, and they must be wondering where you are.’

‘Oh. Right,’ the midwife declared with a grateful smile and, as she and Lauren both headed for their cars, Eve turned to Tom, her expression sad.

‘So, it still pushes all your buttons, does it, even after all these years?’

Tom’s face tightened.

‘Only in Penhally,’ he said, then forced a smile as he noticed Tassie gazing up at him in obvious confusion. ‘Well, half-pint, what are we waiting for? If we don’t get to the reception fast all the best food will have gone.’

‘Are we going in your car?’ the little girl asked. ‘The one that got hit?’

‘We can walk,’ Eve said hurriedly. ‘The Smugglers’ isn’t far—just up the road.’

‘We drive,’ Tom insisted. ‘If I’m taking two gorgeous women out to lunch then we go in style, even if my car is missing one indicator light cover.’

Walking would be better, Eve thought. Tassie would leap about as she always did, pointing things out to Tom, which would mean she wouldn’t have to talk to him, but she could hardly insist on them walking. Tom would wonder why, and if Tom was the same man she had known—and she strongly suspected he was—he would badger and badger her until she told him.

‘In style it is, then,’ she declared, striding determinedly towards his car before she lost her nerve.

‘Can I sit in the front?’ Tassie asked, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other, her fine blonde hair flying about her shoulders, and Tom shook his head.

‘Surely you know royalty always rides in the back behind the chauffeur?’ he replied.

‘But I’m not royalty,’ the little girl pointed out, and Tom smiled the smile Eve knew could charm the birds off the trees.

‘Today you are,’ he said, helping Tassie up into the Range Rover. ‘So, where to, ma’am?’

‘Smugglers’Inn, as quick as you can, driver,’ Tassie declared with an imperious air that was completely ruined when she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

‘That was kind,’ Eve murmured, as she got into the front seat, and Tom slipped into the driver’s seat beside her.

‘It’s only manners to open a door for a lady,’ he replied, and Eve shook her head.

‘I meant it was kind of you to be so nice to Tassie.’

‘She’s a nice kid.’

‘Not everyone sees that,’ Eve observed, then managed a smile when Tom stared at her curiously. ‘Do you honestly remember where everything in Penhally is, or do you want directions for The Smugglers’?’

‘I haven’t forgotten anything about Penhally,’ he said abruptly, then grimaced as a slight frown creased Eve’s forehead. ‘Sorry. An hour back in the place, and already I’m defensive. No, I don’t need directions,’ he added as he drove out of the car park and turned left. ‘The Smugglers’ is at the top of Mevagissey Road.’

Odd, she thought as he drove north, that he should remember that. They’d never been to the inn when they’d been younger. It had been too expensive for them when he’d just qualified as a doctor and she’d just finished her nurse’s training, and yet he’d remembered where it was. What else did he remember? she wondered, but she didn’t want to go down that particular memory lane. It was fraught with too many dangers, too many complications.

‘How long have you lived in London?’ she said, deliberately changing the conversation. ‘I mean, I thought you were still in the States,’ she continued as he glanced across at her, ‘but you gave Lauren a London address.’

‘I haven’t lived in the States for the past ten years,’ he replied. ‘I have a flat in London now, and an apartment in Lausanne overlooking Lake Geneva.’

‘Sounds—’

‘Posh?’ he finished for her dryly, and she shook her head at him.

‘Lovely—I was going to say lovely,’ she said, and Tom shrugged.

‘They’re just places I stay in between trips, not proper homes. Homes have people you love in them. Wives, children.’

Don’t ask, she thought as she stared out the windscreen at the trees flashing by. Trees that were beginning to lose their leaves under a sky that was as blue as only a Cornish sky could be. She didn’t need to know, and it was better if she didn’t, but she couldn’t help herself.

‘You’re not married, then?’ she said, glancing across at him.

‘Nope,’ he replied, braking slightly to avoid the rabbit that had dashed out in front of them. ‘Never found anyone prepared to put up with the kind of erratic work patterns my job demands. At least, not for any length of time.’ His green eyes met hers. ‘What about you?’

She shifted her gaze back at the trees.

‘No, I’m not married.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Tom, are you planning on coming back to Penhally to stay, or…?’

‘I’m only here until Monday. I have things to do—sort out—then I’ll be off again.’

A surge of relief engulfed her. Monday. This was Saturday. She could cope with that. If she should accidentally meet him again tomorrow, she’d be pleasant and friendly, talk about everything and nothing. She’d managed to keep silent for all these years so she could keep quiet for one more day because what good would it do to tell him? Telling him wouldn’t change anything, alter anything, make it less painful.

‘Eve?’

He was staring curiously at her, and she managed to smile.

‘I read in a magazine a while back that you’d been made head of rescue operations at Deltaron,’ she said. ‘You must be very pleased.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s certainly a whole different ball game when your desk is the one the buck stops on. What about you?’ he asked. ‘Still nursing?’

She nodded.

‘I actually just started work in Penhally last month,’ she said. ‘Before that I worked in Truro and Newquay, but Alison—the girl you don’t know whose wedding you were just at,’ she added, and saw Tom smile, ‘is pregnant so I’ve temporarily taken over her position as practice nurse in the Penhally surgery.’

‘Which means if she comes back after her maternity leave, you’ll be out of a job,’ Tom observed.

‘Not for long,’ she said briskly. ‘There’s a big shortage of nurses in the UK so I’ll get something else pretty fast.’

‘But you’d rather work here, in your home village.’

It was a statement, not a question, and her lips curved wryly.

‘Well, you always did say I had no imagination.’

‘Did I say that?’ He shook his head. ‘God, I had a big mouth when I was twenty-four, didn’t I?’

‘Uh-huh,’ she replied, and he laughed. ‘Actually, although you don’t know Alison or Jack,’ she continued, ‘you do know Jack’s father. It’s Nick Tremayne.’

‘Nick Tremayne, the doctor?’ Tom declared.

‘The very same,’ Eve answered. ‘He’s the senior partner in the Penhally surgery now, and my boss.’

‘Are you telling me I’ve just been to the wedding of the son of somebody I went to med school with?’ Tom groaned. ‘God, but now you’ve made me feel old.’

Eve chuckled. ‘Do you remember when we thought anyone older than forty was decrepit?’

‘And anyone over fifty might just as well be dead.’ He nodded. ‘Shows how little we knew, doesn’t it?’ His eyes met hers again. ‘Eve—’

‘Are we almost there yet?’ Tassie chipped in from the back of the car. ‘I’m starving.’

‘In other words, quit with the talking,’ Tom said ruefully, ‘and drive faster.’

‘Something like that.’ The little girl giggled and, as Tom grinned across at Eve, and her own lips curved in response, her heart contracted.

No, she told herself. No. The past is past, nobody can ever go back, and if you allow yourself to be sucked back into his world he’ll only hurt you again, and this time you might not survive.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tom asked, his green eyes suddenly puzzled, and Eve shook her head.

‘Just hungry, like Tassie.’

‘Eve—’

‘We’re here!’ Tassie interrupted with a shriek as the grey-stoned façade of The Smugglers’ Inn suddenly came into view. ‘And look at all the cars. I hope there’s room inside for us.’

And I hope it’s standing room only, Eve thought, so I can hide myself in the crush, but Tom must have read her mind because as she got out of the car he took her arm firmly in his.

‘Now we eat, and socialise, right?’ he declared.

‘You go ahead,’ Eve replied. ‘I just need…’

She waved vaguely in the direction of the door leading to the ladies’ cloakroom, but it didn’t do her any good.

‘We’ll wait for you, won’t we, Tassie?’ Tom said, and Tassie beamed, leaving Eve with nothing to do but obediently disappear into the ladies’ cloakroom.

At least it was empty, she thought with relief as she walked in. Company was the last thing she wanted right now, and quickly she washed her hands then pulled her hairbrush out of her handbag. Lord, but she looked awful. White face, panic-stricken brown eyes, her shoulder-length brown hair slightly windswept, and…

Forty-two, she thought bleakly as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. I look forty-two. OK, so that wasn’t old, but nothing could alter the fact that she was heavier than she’d been at twenty-two, that there were faint lines at the corner of her eyes, and her hair wouldn’t be brown if Vicki at the hairdresser’s didn’t tint it every six weeks.

Impatiently, she dragged her hairbrush through her hair. What did it matter if she didn’t look twenty-two any more?

Because I would like to have looked as I did when he last saw me, her heart sighed as her eyes met those in the mirror. Because it would have shown him what he lost when he walked away from me, and it was stupid to feel that way. Stupid.

‘Feeling any better now?’

Eve whirled round to see Kate Althorp standing behind her, and forced a smile.

‘Much,’ she lied, and Kate shot her a shrewd glance as she ran some water into a sink and began washing her hands.

‘It must have been quite a shock to see Tom again.’

‘A surprise,’ Eve said firmly. ‘It was a surprise, that’s all, seeing him back in Penhally.’

‘Yes, but you and he were quite close before he went to the States, weren’t you?’

Close. What an, oh, so very British, euphemistic way of saying ‘lovers’, Eve thought wryly, and of course Kate would remember she and Tom had spent that summer together. Kate was in her forties, too, and nothing stayed a secret for long in Penhally unless you really worked at it, and Tom hadn’t given a damn about what people thought.

‘Kate, I was twenty-two, he was twenty-four,’ Eve declared, injecting as much careless indifference into her voice as she could. ‘We shared a short summer romance, that’s all.’

‘Which wouldn’t make it any the less painful when it ended,’ Kate Althorp said gently.

The midwife saw too much—way too much—and Eve picked up her hairbrush again.

‘Water under the bridge years ago,’ she said. ‘We’ve both gone our separate ways since then, led very different lives.’

Or at least Tom had, Eve thought as Kate looked for a moment as though she’d like to say something, then dried her hands on a paper towel and left the cloakroom. Tom had gone off to the States, full of determination to succeed, and he had, whereas she…

She squeezed her eyes shut. He was not going to do this to her. She had spent all these years rebuilding her life into something to be proud of, something that mattered, and she was not going to let his presence tear it all down, make it seem worthless.

‘Enough, Eve,’ she said as she opened her eyes and gazed at her reflection again. ‘The past is past. Don’t resurrect it.’

Except it wasn’t that easy, she realised as she walked out of the cloakroom, and found Tom and Tassie waiting for her, grinning like a pair of conspirators.

‘Tassie was convinced you’d slipped down the toilet,’ Tom declared. ‘I told her we’d give you another five minutes, then I’d go over the top in my capacity as head of rescue operations at Deltaron.’

‘Promises, promises,’ Eve said lightly, and Tom’s grin widened.

‘You think I wouldn’t—or couldn’t?’ he replied.

‘I think we should eat,’ she said firmly, refusing to be drawn, but he knew what she was doing.

She could see it in the glint in his eyes. The familiar half daring, half challenging glint which had appeared in the past whenever he’d been about to do, or say, something completely outrageous, and a faint unease stirred in her. An unease which must have shown on her face because he smiled.

‘I’m a mature man now, Eve,’ he declared. ‘No fights, no arguments, I promise.’

And he was as good as his word.

For the next hour Tom charmed his way round the crowded room as only he could when he wanted to. Of course it helped that most of the people at the reception were newcomers to the village, but even when some of the older villagers cut him dead he didn’t rise to the bait. He simply moved away with a wry smile to gently reassure Lauren about his car, then make Chloe Mackinnon, the village’s other midwife, laugh as her fiancé, Dr Fawkner, stood by, watching protectively.

‘He’s changed, hasn’t he?’ Kate observed, nodding towards Tom who was now engaged in an animated discussion about fund-holding practices with Dr Lovak.

‘Tom always could string more than two words together, you know,’ Eve said more caustically than she’d intended, and Kate’s eyebrows rose.

‘I never thought he couldn’t,’ the midwife replied. ‘Just as you also know I never thought he got a fair deal in Penhally.’

‘Still won’t, judging by the reaction of some people,’ Eve said, nodding across to a small group of villagers who were throwing deep frowns in Tom’s direction.

‘People have long memories and old prejudices. I’m not saying they’re right,’ Kate continued as Eve opened her mouth to interrupt. ‘In fact, the longer I’ve lived, the less inclined I’ve become to judge anyone, but don’t forget Tom has friends here, too, as well as detractors.’

Name one, apart from yourself, Eve was tempted to say, but she didn’t.

‘I must get Tassie home,’ she said instead. ‘She’s beginning to look tired.’

Tom clearly wasn’t because the minute Eve began to make her way through the throng he was instantly at her side.

‘Trying to run out on me, are you?’ he said, and she shook her head at him.

‘It’s time I took Tassie home,’ she replied, sidestepping quickly as Freddie and Sam dashed past them, slipping and sliding on the polished wooden floor, whooping at the top of their lungs.

‘Regular little bundles of fun, aren’t they?’ Tom said with amusement as the youngsters scampered off.

‘You used to hate kids,’ Eve reminded him. ‘Said they should all be kept indoors by their parents until they were teenagers.’

‘Yeah, well…’ Tom glanced back at the two boys. ‘Do you ever find yourself wishing you’d had children?’

Eve stared fixedly at the wedding cake sitting on the table by the window.

‘No point in wishing, Tom,’ she said. ‘It’s better to deal with the here and now.’

‘I guess so,’ he said, then smiled and waved to Tassie. ‘But I still think I’d like to have kids.’

‘And I think it’s way past time Tassie went home,’ Eve said through a throat so tight it hurt.

‘Eve—’

‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t Tom Cornish. And what brings Penhally’s local-boy-made-good back to Cornwall?’

Eve glanced over her shoulder to see Nick Tremayne standing behind them, and smiled.

‘Tom,’ she began, ‘this is—’

‘Nick Tremayne.’ Tom grinned. ‘No need for an introduction, Eve. I would have recognised this old reprobate anywhere. Good to see you again, Nick, and still doctoring, I hear.’

‘And you’re still globetrotting with Deltaron if all I’ve read about you is true,’ Nick replied with no smile at all.

‘You’ve been following my career?’ Tom said lightly, but Eve could see a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. ‘I’m flattered.’

‘Oh, even in a sleepy little backwater like Penhally, we have the internet and satellite television now,’ Nick replied, ‘which means I’m all too aware of your exploits.’

‘Tom is just back for a short visit,’ Eve said, glancing from Tom to Nick, then back again uncertainly. Lord, but the animosity emanating from Nick was so patent it could have flash-frozen fish. ‘He’s leaving on Monday.’

‘Back to singlehandedly, heroically saving the world, I presume?’ Nick declared, and what little smile there had been left on Tom’s face disappeared completely.

‘If you want heroes, Nick, then it’s the people who live in the countries my team and I go into to help who deserve that title,’ he said tersely. ‘They’re the ones who have to tackle the long-term effects of any disaster.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Nick observed, ‘but they don’t get the credit, do they? Because they get left with the boring, tedious stuff, like rebuilding their country, while you swan off on yet another photo opportunity.’

‘Now, just a minute,’ Tom began, his face darkening, and Eve caught hold of his sleeve quickly.

‘Tom, we really do have to get Tassie home,’ she said. ‘She’s very tired, and I told Amanda we’d make sure she wouldn’t be too late back.’

For a moment she didn’t think he was going to come with her. He certainly didn’t look as though he wanted to as he glared at Nick, and Nick glared back, then he nodded reluctantly.

‘Right,’ he said, then added, ‘See you around, Nick,’ before he strode out of the room, leaving Eve and Tassie with nothing to do but hurry after him.

‘I thought you said you and Nick Tremayne were friends?’ Eve protested when she caught up with him in the car park.

‘I thought we were, too,’ Tom replied, ‘but I’ve clearly done something to rattle his cage. Any idea what?’

‘None at all,’ Eve said. ‘He can certainly be a bit brusque at times, but he’s not normally so…so…’

‘In your face?’ Tom shook his head as he helped Tassie clamber into his Range Rover. ‘Kate Althorp sure had a lucky escape.’

‘From what?’ Eve asked in confusion.

‘From marrying him. Don’t you remember how close Kate and Nick were at school?’ he continued as Eve looked at him in surprise. ‘Everyone was certain they’d get married.’

‘Well, they didn’t,’ Eve replied. ‘Kate married James Althorp.’

‘So I gathered.’ Tom frowned as he switched on his ignition. ‘Which I have to say I find surprising. Don’t get me wrong,’ he added. ‘James was a nice enough bloke, but I’d have thought he was a bit too laid back for Kate, which only goes to show you never can tell. Nick married that girl he met at med school, didn’t he? Anne…Isabel…’

‘Annabel.’

‘Yeah, that was her name. Nice girl, she was, too, as I recall.’

‘She died nearly three years ago now,’ Eve replied. ‘Her appendix ruptured and because she’d taken aspirin she bled out and there was nothing anyone could do.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Tom declared, ‘but I still reckon Kate had a lucky escape.’

But Nick isn’t normally like that, Eve thought with a frown, as Tom drove them down the winding road back into the village. The senior partner could certainly be sharp and cutting if he felt people weren’t pulling their weight, but she’d never seen him verbally attack somebody for no reason, and yet that was exactly what he’d done this afternoon.

‘Where does Tassie live?’ Tom asked as they drove down Harbour Road.

‘Just off Morwenna Road, but if you drop us at the post office we can walk from there,’ Eve replied.

‘But that will still leave you quite a distance to walk,’ Tom protested.

‘All to the good,’ Eve said calmly. ‘I need some exercise after what I’ve eaten.’

‘But—’

‘Drop us at the post office, Tom.’

He sighed but, after he’d crossed the Harbour Bridge, he obediently pulled up at the post office.

‘Thanks for the ride, mister,’ Tassie said when she and Eve got out of his car, and he smiled and ruffled her hair.

‘Could you make yourself scarce for a couple of minutes, half-pint?’ he said. ‘I need to talk to Eve.’

‘Tom, Tassie really does have to go home,’ Eve began as the girl obediently skipped down the road for a few yards, then waited. ‘The wind’s getting up, and she’s not dressed for the weather—’

‘I was wondering whether you’d like to come out with me tomorrow?’ he interrupted. ‘We could have lunch, and you could show me the sights of Penhally.’

‘Tom, you were born here, you know what the sights are,’ she protested.

‘There’s bound to have been some changes—new developments—since I was last here,’ he argued back, ‘and I thought—perhaps for old times’ sake?’

She didn’t want to do anything for old times’ sake. Two postcards, that’s all he’d sent her after he’d left for America. One from New York, saying he was homesick and lonely, and another one from California six months later, saying he’d applied for a job with Deltaron. After that, there’d been nothing. Not a card, or a letter, or a phone call, for the past twenty years during which she’d got on with her life, and if it hadn’t been the life she’d planned, dreamed of, it had been a satisfying life, and now he was back, and she didn’t want him to be back.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said firmly. ‘I have things to do tomorrow.’

‘Please.’

If he had been smiling at her with that old gotta-love-me smile she would never have wavered, but he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked uncharacteristically unsure, uncertain, and Tom Cornish had never been unsure of anything in his life.

‘I can’t do lunch,’ she said hesitantly. Won’t, more like. ‘As I said, I have things to do tomorrow.’

‘Half a day is better than none,’ he said. ‘Do you still live in Polkerris Road with your parents? I’ll pick you up at two o’clock—’

‘Three o’clock,’ she interrupted. ‘And I’ll meet you outside your hotel.’

He looked disappointed, then he nodded.

‘OK, three o’clock it is,’ he said, then to her surprise he added quickly, ‘You will come, won’t you?’

The uncertainty was back in his eyes, big time, and a slight frown creased her forehead.

‘I said I’d come,’ she pointed out, ‘and I will.’

Though God knows why, she thought as she joined Tassie and the two of them began walking down the road together.

‘He’s nice,’ Tassie observed, hopping from one paving stone to the next in some sort of elaborate game only she understood.

‘Tom can be very nice when he wants to be,’ Eve replied noncommittally.

‘He told me you and he were best friends when you were younger,’ Tassie continued with her usual directness, and Eve manufactured a smile.

‘It was a long time ago, Tassie.’

‘He still likes you. I can tell. In fact,’ the girl added, ‘I bet if we turn round right now he’ll be watching you from outside the post office.’

‘Tassie,’ Eve began in consternation, but the girl had already stopped and was looking over her shoulder.

‘Told you so,’ Tassie said.

‘He’s watching us?’ Eve said faintly.

‘See for yourself if you don’t believe me,’ Tassie declared, and Eve shook her head, feeling her cheeks prickle with heat.

‘I’ve got to get you home.’

‘Chicken.’ Tassie laughed.

Self-preservation, more like, Eve thought, walking on determinedly. I don’t owe him anything, not after all these years.

But you’ve still agreed to meet him tomorrow afternoon, haven’t you? a little voice mocked at the back of her mind, and she groaned inwardly.

She must have been out of her mind.


CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS strange, Tom thought as he leant back against the grey-stoned wall of the Anchor Hotel and breathed in deeply. He’d been all around the world in the course of his work, and yet no air had ever smelt quite the same as the air did in Penhally Bay.

And nobody had ever looked quite like Eve Dwyer, he decided when he heard the faint sound of footsteps in the distance, and turned to see her walking down Fisherman’s Row towards him wearing a cherry-red sweater and a russet-coloured skirt, her brown hair gleaming in the early October sunshine.

Lord, but she’d scarcely changed at all. She still had the same cloud of brown hair, the same long, curly eyelashes, and even the same two dimples which peeked out when she smiled. Perhaps she was slightly curvier now than she had been when at twenty-two, but it suited her. It suited her a lot, he decided as his gaze swept over her appreciatively.

‘Am I late?’ she said, her brown eyes apologetic when she drew level with him.

He shook his head, and breathed in deeply again.

‘You know, I think I would recognise Penhally air even if I was blindfolded.’

‘You mean the pong of old seaweed and fish?’ she said, her eyes dancing.

‘I meant the tang of the sea, as you very well know,’ he said severely, then his lips curved. ‘And there was me thinking you’d still be a romantic.’

The light in her eyes disappeared, and a shadow replaced it.

‘Gave up on romance a long time ago, Tom. So…’ She spread her hands wide. ‘Where do you want to start?’

‘Start?’ He echoed, still puzzling over what she’d said about giving up on romance.

‘You said you wanted a tour of Penhally,’ she reminded him. ‘So, do you want to go north towards the lighthouse first, or down to the lifeboat station?’

‘The lighthouse, I think,’ he said. ‘You always used to go there when you wanted to think, didn’t you?’

She shot him a surprised glance.

‘What an odd thing to remember,’ she said.

‘Oh, my mind’s a regular ragbag of odd bits of information,’ he replied lightly as she crossed the Harbour Bridge back into Fisherman’s Row and he fell into step beside her.

‘Of course, not many fishermen live in Fisherman’s Row any more,’ she declared. ‘In fact, there aren’t many fishermen left in Penhally full stop. Too few fish to catch nowadays, and too many quotas, to make it a viable way of life.’ She waved to a dark-haired young woman who had come out of one of the cottages to scoop up a ginger cat. ‘That’s Chloe MacKinnon. You met her yesterday at Alison and Jack’s reception.’

‘Midwife like Kate, yes?’ Tom frowned. ‘Works in the village practice, and is currently engaged to, and living with, Oliver Fawkner?’

‘That’s the one,’ Eve said as the woman waved back and disappeared into her house. ‘You met Oliver at the reception, too.’

‘I remember.’ Tom nodded, then chuckled. ‘You know, if one of the local midwives and a practice doctor had been living together when I was last in Penhally, they’d have been tarred and feathered then run out of town.’

‘Times change even in Penhally, at least for some things,’ she murmured, and before he could say anything she pointed across the harbour to where a pretty cottage sat high on the hill. ‘That’s where Kate lives. Her house must have one of the best views in Penhally.’

‘Right,’ he said, shooting her a puzzled glance.

‘Dr Lovak used to live in Fisherman’s Row,’ Eve continued as they walked past the library and into Harbour Road, ‘but he and his wife, Melinda, moved out into the country in the summer. I guess with a baby coming they wanted more space.’

Tom was sure they did, but talking about where the members of the village practice lived was not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d asked Eve to meet him today, and if she was going to spend the whole afternoon pointing out the homes of her colleagues it was going to be a very long afternoon indeed.

‘Eve—’

‘I’m sorry,’ she broke in, turning to face him, her expression contrite. ‘I know I’m babbling a load of boring drivel, but the thing is…’ She lifted her shoulders helplessly. ‘We don’t know each other any more, and I don’t know what to say, or talk to you about. I know we were…close…in the past, but—’

‘Us meeting again is fast turning into your worst date ever,’ he finished for her, and she coloured.

‘Maybe not quite that bad, but we’re practically strangers now, Tom, so why did you ask to see me again—what was the point?’

Good question, he thought, but how could he tell her that part of him had hoped to find her happily married so he could finally squash the dream that had haunted him for years—that he could somehow go back, change things—while the other part had hoped she was still single so he might be given another chance at happiness.

She would say he wasn’t making any sense, and maybe he wasn’t. Maybe nobody could—or should—ever try to go back.

‘Look, I won’t take offence if you just want to give this up, and go back to your hotel,’ Eve continued.

If her eyes hadn’t met his when she’d spoken he might have been tempted to accept her suggestion, but, lord, she really was as lovely as he’d remembered, and how could he have forgotten her eyes weren’t simply brown, but had tiny flecks of green in them? Because he’d forced himself to forget, he thought with a sigh, spent so many years trying not to remember, until a year ago, when…

Don’t go there, his mind warned. It’s better not to go there.

‘Tom?’

She looked awkward and uncomfortable, and he forced a smile.

‘Of course I don’t want to go back to the hotel,’ he said. ‘Leastways, not until you’ve pointed out Nick’s house and I’ve thrown a brick through his window.’

She gave a small choke of laughter. ‘I thought you said you were a mature man now?’

‘OK, I’ll see if I can capture some greenfly and let them loose on his roses instead,’ he said, and when she laughed out loud he linked his arm with hers, and began walking again. ‘Eve, I know it’s been a long time since we last met,’ he continued, ‘but it simply means we’ve a lot of catching up to do. And speaking of catching up,’ he added when she said nothing, ‘are you quite sure you don’t know why Nick appears to consider me dog meat?’

‘I thought you might know the answer to that,’ she observed, and he shook his head.

‘I knew him at school, and met him a couple of times when I went to med school, but he was a few years older than me, and his friends tended to be the more studious type, whereas mine…’ He grinned down at her. ‘Tended to be a little rowdier.’

‘I bet they were,’ Eve said dryly.

‘How many kids does Nick have?’ Tom asked, and Eve smiled as they reached the end of Harbour Road and turned towards the lighthouse.

‘He and Annabel had three of a family. Lucy and Jack, who are twins, and Edward. They’re all doctors.’

Tom pulled a face. ‘All of them! I don’t think I’d want any kids of mine becoming medics, would you?’

He’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t know why, or how, but her face had suddenly closed up completely, and he longed to hug her, or say something totally outrageous to bring the smile back onto her face, but no words occurred to him, and as for hugging her… In the past he wouldn’t have thought twice, but even thinking about doing it now made him feel ridiculously awkward, as though it would be too forward which was crazy when he remembered what they’d once meant to one another.

‘Odd time of day for a church service,’ he said, deliberately changing the subject as they passed the church and the sound of enthusiastic singing drifted out.

‘It’s not a service,’ Eve replied. ‘Reverend Kenner runs a club for the village youngsters on Sunday afternoons. Daniel’s a nice man. A good one, too.’

‘Single, is he?’ Tom said, feeling a spurt of something that crazily felt almost like jealousy.

‘Daniel’s a widower like Nick, with a seventeen-year-old daughter.’

And she didn’t look any happier, Tom thought as they walked on to the lighthouse. In fact, she looked even more strained and, in desperation, he pointed out to sea to where the wreck of the seventeenth century Spanish galleon, the Corazón del Oro, had lain for the past four hundred years.

‘Remember when we wished we could dive down there, find loads of gold coins, and make our fortune?’

‘Except neither of us could swim, so it was a bit of a nonstarter,’ she replied. ‘Still can’t swim, which is a dreadful admission for somebody who lives by the sea. What about you?’

‘I had to learn for my work so they sent me on a course and, believe me, being in a class of five-year-olds when you’re twenty-four, and five feet ten inches tall, doesn’t do a lot for your ego.’

Her lips twitched. ‘You’re making that up.’

‘Scout’s honour,’ he protested, and she laughed.

‘Tom, you were thrown out of the Scouts for disruptive behaviour when you were thirteen.’

‘OK, so maybe I was,’ he said, relieved to see her smile again, ‘but I honestly was stuck in a kids’ class. My boss reckoned it would concentrate my mind wonderfully, and it did. I always wondered why your dad didn’t teach you to swim, what with him being a sailor.’

‘He was too busy trying to make a living. My mum wanted me to learn, but you had to pay for lessons, and…’ She shrugged. ‘Money was always tight when I was a kid.’

‘Are they still alive—your mum and dad?’ he asked, as they turned and began walking back from the lighthouse.

She shook her head.

‘My dad died of cancer fifteen years ago. Never would give up his cigarettes, though Mum nagged him like crazy about it. My mum died of a heart attack five years ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said gently. ‘I know they were apoplectic that summer when we started dating, but I liked them.’

‘So did I,’ she murmured, and Tom swore under his breath.

Hell, but she had that look on her face again. That bleak, almost haunted look as though he had conjured up memories that would have been better left buried.

‘Look, why don’t we go down to the beach?’ he said quickly. ‘Have a walk along the sand.’

‘I’m not really dressed for it, Tom,’ she replied, pointing down at her shoes. ‘My heels will get stuck.’

‘Then take your shoes off,’ he said. ‘Take off your stockings, too, and you can paddle if you want.’

‘Tom, it’s October,’ she said. ‘It’s too cold to paddle.’

‘Rubbish,’ he said, steering her firmly towards the steps that led down to the beach. ‘It’s a gorgeous day.’

It was, too, Eve thought as she stared up at the sky. Seagulls were wheeling and diving overhead, their white feathers standing out in sharp contrast to the clear blue sky, and there was a deceptive warmth in the air despite the fact that it was October. Soon it would change. Soon it would be winter and the green-blue sea would become grey and stormy, sending breakers crashing onto the white sand, and only the very toughest would walk along the shore, but today there was enough heat in the day to make it pleasant.

‘If you hurry up,’ Tom continued as he sat down on the top step, and began pulling off his shoes and socks, and rolling up his trousers, ‘we’ll have the beach to ourselves—just the way you used to like it.’

How had he remembered that? she thought with surprise, and he’d also remembered she used to sit at the foot of the lighthouse when she wanted to think. They were such little things—such inconsequential things—and yet he’d remembered, and the water did look tempting, so very tempting, but she could just imagine what the gossipmongers would say if somebody saw her.

Eve Dwyer went paddling with that Tom Cornish yesterday. Paddling, and with that Tom Cornish.

‘Tom, maybe we should just go back into the village,’ she began, and his green eyes danced as he looked up at her.

‘Eve, I’m not suggesting we go skinny-dipping. Though I’m game if you are.’

Her lips curved in spite of herself.

‘In your dreams,’ she said.

‘Chicken.’

He was the second person to have called her that in twenty-four hours, and she discovered she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit. OK, so skinny-dipping was completely out of the question but, hell’s bells, even in Penhally she could surely paddle if she wanted to, and she discovered she wanted to.

‘OK, move over,’ she said, and he slid across the step so she could sit down beside him.

‘So, are we paddling, or skinny-dipping?’ he said, and, when she gave him a hard stare, his eyes glinted. ‘Pity. I was kind of looking forward to shocking the good people of Penhally.’

‘I bet you were,’ she said dryly as she unbuckled the straps of her shoes and slipped them off. ‘Right. Turn your back while I take off my stockings,’ she added, and when his mouth fell open, she said, ‘I’m not having you staring at my thighs, and making snarky comments about cellulite, so turn your back.’

‘I don’t even know what cellulite is,’ he protested, but he did as she asked, and when she eventually stuffed her tights into her skirt pocket and stood up, he said, ‘You’re an idiot—you know that, don’t you?’

‘Probably,’ she agreed, picking up her shoes by their straps, and walking down the steps. ‘So, are we walking or not?’

He shook his head at her as he followed her down the steps.

‘You didn’t used to be so shy,’ he observed, and a stain of colour spread across her cheeks.

He was laughing at her, she knew he was, remembering all the times he’d seen her completely naked, and she bit her lip, waiting for him to point that out, but he didn’t.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget you dancing and singing on this beach,’ he said instead, completely surprising her. ‘It was the height of summer—the place was packed with tourists, and families from the village—and suddenly you began singing that Whitney Houston song at the top of your lungs.’

‘“I wanna to dance with somebody”!’ she exclaimed with a choke of laughter. ‘I’d forgotten all about that. I got into such a row with my mother after Audrey Baxter told her I’d made a public spectacle of myself.’

‘Audrey Baxter would say that,’ he replied with feeling as they began walking along the beach.

‘And you told me I had no taste,’ she reminded him. ‘That if I wanted to sing, then I should have sung one of Bruce Springsteen’s songs because he was the only singer worth listening to.’

‘Still is,’ he insisted, and when she rolled her eyes he laughed, and said, ‘Do you still have that dress?’

‘What dress?’ she said in confusion.

‘The red dress you wore that day. It had a big wide skirt, and puffy sleeves, and when I first went to the States I couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing Chris de Burgh singing “The Lady in Red”, and every time I heard it I thought of you, singing on this beach.’

‘Did you?’ she said faintly, and he nodded.

‘You wouldn’t believe how homesick I got whenever they played that song.’

But not homesick enough to write to me, or phone me, she thought, but she didn’t say that.

‘I’m afraid I threw the dress out years ago,’ she said instead.

‘Pity,’ he murmured, picking up a pebble and sending it skimming across the water in front of them. ‘I always liked that dress, and the little red boots you used to wear.’

‘My pixie boots!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’d forgotten all about them, too. I loved those boots. Couldn’t wear them now, of course.’

‘Yes, you could. You’ve still got great legs. Great figure, too,’ he added.

‘Not that good,’ she said, feeling the wash of colour on her cheeks return as his gaze swept over her. ‘Years ago I could eat whatever I wanted and never put on a kilo. Now I just have to look at a cream cake, and, pouf, on goes the weight.’

He grinned. ‘Well, you’re looking good from where I’m standing.’

So was he, she thought. With the sun on his face, and the wind ruffling his hair, he looked exactly like the town bad boy he’d been all those years ago, whereas she…

What had she been back then?

Naïve, yes. Trusting, most definitely, but mostly so full of dreams, and hopes, and plans. Tom had been the same, but her dreams hadn’t been the same as his. He’d wanted to get as far away from Penhally as he could, to live a life of adventure and excitement, and she… She’d simply wanted him.

‘Let’s have some fun,’ he’d said when he’d come back to Penhally as a fully qualified doctor that summer, and she’d been so happy because he’d finally asked her out that she’d chosen not to believe him when he’d told her he would be heading for the States at the end of September.

He’ll change his mind, she’d told herself, and for four wonderful, glorious months they’d walked, and talked—lord, how they’d talked—and they’d made love. She’d been a virgin when they’d first started going out and he’d teased her about it, said a woman could have just as much fun as a man without fear of the consequences, and she’d gone on the Pill to be safe, and then after four far too short months he had left.

‘What are you thinking about?’

She looked up to see him gazing at her quizzically, and managed a smile.

‘I was just wondering where the last twenty years had gone,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it, and sometimes just a few months.’

‘And I can’t believe you’re still single,’ he observed. ‘The men in Penhally must be either blind, or stupid, or both.’

‘I almost got married once,’ she replied, kicking the sand in front of her so it sprayed out as they walked, ‘but…’

‘It didn’t feel right?’

‘Something like that. What about you?’ she asked. ‘Were you never tempted to take the plunge?’

‘I’ve had a couple of semi-serious relationships, but…’ He shrugged. ‘My work makes it difficult because I never know where I’m going to be from one day to the next.’

‘Maybe you’re just not the marrying kind,’ she said. ‘Some people aren’t.’

He stared out to sea, then back at her, and to her surprise he looked suddenly wistful, almost sad.

‘And maybe I simply got my priorities all wrong.’

His eyes were fixed on hers, refusing to allow her to look away, and her heart gave an uncomfortable thump. This conversation was getting too personal, way too personal, and she had to change it. Now.

‘Last one to reach the end of the beach is a wimp,’ she said, and, before he could reply, she was off and running, her bare feet flying over the sand, her skirt billowing above her knees, her shoes swinging from her hand.

From behind her she heard him shout a spluttered protest, but she didn’t stop. She just kept on running and when she heard his footsteps begin to thud behind her she suddenly, and inexplicably, began to laugh.

To laugh like the girl she’d once been. The carefree young girl who had once sung on a beach, feeling nothing but the joy of being alive, and she knew she probably looked like a demented lunatic, but she didn’t care. For this moment—for just this one moment—with her hair streaming in the breeze, and the taste of the sun and the sea on her lips, she felt like that girl again, and it was wonderful.

‘You cheated!’ he exclaimed when he caught up with her, and grasped her by the waist, spinning her round so fast she had to catch hold of his shirt to prevent herself from toppling over.

‘Sore loser,’ she threw back at him, laughing breathlessly as she pushed her hair away from her face. ‘You’ve been spending far too much time behind a desk.’

‘Too much time…?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll make you pay for that remark, Eve Dwyer.’

‘Oh, no, you won’t,’ she said, turning to run again, and he made a grab for her, and she jumped back to escape him, only to let out a yell as she ended up ankle deep in the sea. ‘Oh, my God, it’s freezing.’

‘Serves you right.’ Tom laughed but, when she scooped up some water and threw it at him, he splashed into the water after her. ‘Play rough, would you? OK, you deserve a complete ducking for that.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ she cried, trying to evade him, but he caught her round the waist again and swept her up into his arms.

‘You think?’ he said, deliberately lowering her towards the water, and she shrieked and threw her arms round his neck.

‘Tom, no!’

He grinned. ‘OK, if you don’t want to be ducked, you’ll need to pay a forfeit, and I think you know what that forfeit is, don’t you?’

A kiss. The forfeit had always been a kiss when they’d dated and, as Eve stared up into his, oh, so familiar face, she realised with a stab of pain that even after all that had happened, even after all the heartache and desolation, she wanted to kiss him, and the thought appalled her.

‘Tom, let me go,’ she said, but he didn’t hear the strain in her voice.

‘Nope, not a chance,’ he said. ‘The forfeit, or the sea. Your choice.’

‘Tom, please.’

‘Make a decision—make a decision,’ he insisted as he whirled her round in his arms, but she didn’t have to.

She had suddenly seen what he hadn’t, and she tugged desperately on his sleeve.

‘Tom, we have company.’

‘Company?’ he repeated, then swore under his breath as he followed her gaze. ‘Oh, wonderful. Bloody wonderful. Is that who I think it is?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Eve said, through gritted teeth, and when Tom quickly put her down she splashed out of the sea, feeling completely ridiculous and stupid, as Audrey Baxter walked towards them.

‘Tom Cornish,’ Audrey declared the minute she drew level with them, her faded brown eyes alive with curiosity and speculation. ‘My heavens, but I never thought to see you in Penhally again.’

‘Us bad pennies have a nasty habit of turning up again, don’t we, Mrs Baxter?’ he replied dryly.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t call you a bad penny, Tom,’ Audrey declared. ‘You were a little wild, to be sure—’

‘I think the words you used to shout after me when I was a teenager were, “You’re heading straight to hell in a handcart, Tom Cornish”.’

Audrey patted her steel-grey curls and shook her head at him reprovingly.

‘That was a long time ago, Tom.’ She shifted her gaze to Eve, making her all too aware that her hair must be sticking out all over the place, and the hem of her skirt was wet. ‘I see you and Nurse Dwyer are getting reacquainted.’

Tom moved up the beach a step. ‘We are, but now I’m afraid we have to be going.’

‘I thought you might have come back to Penhally two years ago, Tom, when your father died,’ Audrey continued. ‘I know you didn’t always get on—’

‘And I think your dog’s looking for you,’ Tom interrupted, pointing to the brindle and white greyhound which was splashing in the water further up the beach.

‘Looking for crabs, more like,’ Audrey replied. ‘He loves them.’

‘Indeed,’ Tom declared, ‘and now if you’ll excuse us…’

But Audrey wasn’t about to let him leave so easily.

‘I hear your father left you his house in Trelissa Road?’ she called after him, and Tom turned slowly to face her, his expression tight.

‘What a very knowledgeable little community Penhally is,’ he said, the sarcasm in his voice so plain that even Audrey couldn’t miss it, and Eve grabbed his hand quickly, not caring that Audrey’s eyes followed her action.

‘Tom, we really do have to be going,’ she insisted, and determinedly she urged him back up the beach, but it wasn’t over as far as he was concerned.

‘Nothing changes, does it?’ he spat out when they reached the steps leading off the beach, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Audrey was watching them. ‘Twenty damn years, and nothing changes. I could be the Prime Minister of Britain, and in Penhally I’d still be Tom Cornish, that drunkard, Frank Cornish’s, son who no decent family ever wanted their daughter dating.’

‘Tom—’

‘If you’re going to say Audrey meant no harm, you can save your breath,’ he interrupted, sitting down on the step and beginning to drag on his socks, heedless of the fact that his feet were still covered in sand. ‘And if you were going to ask me why I didn’t come back for my father’s funeral, you can save your breath on that one, too.’

‘I know why you didn’t come back, Tom,’ she said gently, ‘and Audrey… There’s no question she can be an interfering busybody, but your father’s dead and gone. Don’t let him keep hurting you.’

‘He left me his house, Eve,’ he said furiously. ‘After years of battering me from pillar to post until I was big enough to hit him back and make it count, he had the gall to leave me his house.’

‘Maybe…’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘Maybe he was trying to make amends, at the end?’

‘If I believed that for one second,’ he retorted, ‘I’d go round and torch the bloody place myself. No guilt gift can ever make up for the fact he hated me from the day I was born. Time and time again, he’d tell me of all the things he could have done—would have done—if my mother hadn’t become pregnant, and her family hadn’t forced him into marrying her, and when she died he hated me even more.’

‘I know,’ she said, sitting down beside him, aching at the pain she saw in his face, feeling a different kind of pain in herself, but he rounded on her furiously.

‘No, you don’t. You have no idea of what it’s like to live with a man whose dreams you’ve shattered. No idea to feel, even as a seven-year-old child, that it would have been better if you’d never been born.’

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘You’re right. I don’t know.’

Silently she brushed the sand from her feet, then pushed her feet into her shoes, but when she made to stand up he put out his hand to stop her.

‘You’ve forgotten your stockings.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ she replied, and, for a second he said nothing, then he thrust his fingers through his hair, and she saw his hands were shaking.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice so strained it almost broke. ‘So sorry for yelling at you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said.

‘It’s not,’ he declared. ‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and I’m sorry, too, that Audrey saw you in my arms. I know what this place is like—the gossip, the innuendo…’

‘It’s all right, Tom,’ she insisted, and saw a small smile creep onto his lips.

‘I’ve always created trouble for you, haven’t I?’ he said.

‘Of course you haven’t,’ she lied. ‘And now, come on,’ she added, ‘or we’ll be completing this tour of Penhally by moonlight.’

‘Which would really set the local tongues wagging, wouldn’t it?’ he declared as he fell into step beside her. ‘Audrey—’

‘Forget her,’ Eve ordered as they began walking back down Harbour Road, and he shook his head.

‘This is a professional observation, not a personal one,’ he replied. ‘Her colour’s very high.’

‘She has angina, and she’s hopeless about remembering to use her glyceryl trinitrate spray. “I keep forgetting, Nurse Dwyer”,’ Eve continued in a perfect imitation of Audrey’s voice. ‘I don’t think she realises, or will accept, how serious her condition is.’

‘Denial can be a form of self-protection when people are scared,’ Tom observed, kicking a pebble at his feet so that it ricocheted down the street in front of them. ‘If they don’t think about it, it hasn’t happened.’

It was true, Eve thought, but denial had never worked for her. All the denying, and pretending in the world, had never made it go away for her, and when they reached Harbour Bridge she came to a halt.

‘Tom, why did you come back?’ she asked. ‘You always said you wouldn’t, so why are you here?’

For a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer, then he shrugged.

‘My dad’s solicitor has been bending my ear about the house, wanting to know whether I want to sell it, or rent it out.’

‘You didn’t have to come back to Penhally for that,’ she pointed out. ‘You could just have told him over the phone.’

‘I suppose,’ he murmured as he stared down at the river Lanson flowing gently under the bridge beneath them, then he grinned. ‘OK, you’ve rumbled me. I thought it might be interesting to see Penhally again.’

He wasn’t telling her the truth. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.

‘Tom—’

‘What happened to the cinema?’ he interrupted. ‘It used to be up there, in Gull Close, didn’t it, on the right-hand side of the river?’

‘It was on the left-hand side of the river, in Bridge Street, but it closed down years ago,’ she replied, all too aware that he was changing the subject, but she had secrets so she supposed he was entitled to secrets, too. ‘People gradually stopped wanting to go so much once they had television in their own homes.’

‘I took you to see RoboCop.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘I did, too,’ he insisted as they began walking again. ‘I remember us kissing in the back row.’

‘Must have been someone else. Come to think of it,’ she added wryly, ‘it undoubtedly was someone else considering you were Penhally’s answer to Casanova.’

‘I was not,’ he replied, the grin reappearing on his face.

‘Yes, you were!’ she exclaimed. ‘Even when we were at school, every girl fancied you like mad despite you having the most dreadful reputation.’

‘You didn’t.’

Oh, but I did, I did, she thought, but you never noticed me. It was only when you came back from med school that summer that you realised I was alive.

‘That’s the Penhally Bay Surgery,’ she continued, deliberately changing the conversation, and Tom let out a low whistle as his gaze took in the large building to the left of the Serpentine Steps.

‘I remember when the doctor’s surgery was that pokey little place in Morwenna Road,’ he observed.

‘Nick’s made big changes since he took over the practice,’ Eve replied. ‘And he’s making even more, as you can see,’ she added, pointing to the scaffolding at the back of the surgery. ‘In less than a week Lauren will have a state-of-the-art physiotherapy suite, and we’ll have an X-ray room, and even more consulting rooms.’

‘Well, he may have grown into a grumpy old so-and-so,’ Tom said, ‘but at least he wants the best for his patients.’

‘He does,’ Eve said, ‘but you haven’t told me anything about yourself, your work with Deltaron.’

‘Not much to tell,’ he said.

‘There’s bound to be,’ she said, but he wasn’t listening to her. He was already crossing the road, heading for the children’s play park and playing field. ‘Tom, where are you going?’

‘I fancy a swing,’ he shouted back, and though she shook her head she followed him.

‘Big kid,’ she said when she’d caught up with him.

‘You’d better believe it,’ he replied, then frowned slightly as he looked up at the new houses on the hill, then down at the older buildings clustered round the harbour. ‘It’s odd, but it seems so much smaller than I remembered it.’

‘Hicksville. That’s what you used to call Penhally,’ she said. ‘“There’s a whole world out there, Eve, and I want to see it, be a part of it.”’




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