CHAPTER ONE

      ‘HE’S gorgeous!’

      Jo looked down at the baby girl in her arms and smiled. ‘Mmm—but he’s a she.’

      Sue propped her arms on the edge of the crib and laughed softly. ‘Not the baby, idiot. Him. Our Dr Latimer.’

      ‘Oh, him. He’s come in, has he? Such dedication to duty on New Year’s Day.’ Jo laid the baby down on her side, covered her up and straightened. ‘I was just tucking up our first baby of the year. I nearly missed her arrival—in a bit of a hurry, weren’t you, sweetheart?’

      The baby ignored her, and so did Sue.

      ‘You ought to see him—six foot something, dark hair, laughing grey-blue eyes…’

      ‘Sounds like a cliché.’

      Sue gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Look, Jo, he’s perfect. Just what you need—’

      ‘Whoa there! Steady on.’ Jo stopped what she was doing and met her friend’s eyes. ‘What I need,’ she pointed out carefully, ‘is calm, stability, security—’

      ‘Fun, laughter, a social life—’

      ‘A pension—’

      ‘Pension!’ Sue exploded. ‘Why do you need a pension? You’re twenty-nine!’

      ‘Thirty—and because, as I’ve just proved, I’m getting older.’

      Sue made a rude noise and bent over the baby. ‘Hi, sweetheart. Welcome to the world of pensions and premature ageing. It’ll be your birthday next week at this rate, you wait and see.’

      Jo swatted her with the file and went out into the corridor, hiding her grin. ‘You’re impossible. I’m not interested in Dr Latimer. For all we know he could be married…’

      ‘Uh-uh. Single—not even divorced.’

      ‘So why’s he taken a job in a quiet little seaside town in Suffolk? He’s probably got totally unacceptable habits, or halitosis.’

      Sue followed her down the corridor to the nursing station. ‘No halitosis…’

      ‘And of course you got close enough to find out.’

      ‘Oh, yes. Matron introduced us. I swear, if I wasn’t already married…’ She paused. ‘He’s lovely, Jo, really.’ Her eyes grew serious. ‘He is. You wait till you meet him. He could be Mr Right.’

      ‘I’m sure he is—for someone, but that someone isn’t me, Sue. I don’t believe in happy ever after.’

      Sue propped herself against the wall and watched as Jo dropped the file back into the trolley. ‘So have an affair.’

      Jo laughed. ‘In Yoxburgh? Got any more good ideas?’

      ‘I mean it. It’s time you got out and had a bit of fun. I think it’s amazing that you’re as normal as you are, the life you lead. You’re closeted up like a nun—and what about Laura? Is she going to grow up thinking that men are a bad idea and living alone is the norm?’

      Jo shook her head in disbelief and turned towards her friend.

      ‘Leave it, Sue, please. Laura and I are fine. We don’t need anyone else. I know you’re only trying to help, but we’re quite happy the way we are.’

      Sue shrugged. ‘Have it your own way.’

      ‘I will. We’re fine.’ Jo sighed inwardly. It wasn’t 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 empty—well, they were few and far between, and she had plenty of friends to pass the time with.

      She didn’t 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 care—

      Lord, how maudlin!

      ‘Stop matchmaking, Sue,’ she told her friend firmly. ‘Anyway, haven’t you got anything better to do?’

      ‘Oh, tons—all my PNs. You can tell me what you think of him later. See you!’

      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 sister—and him. At least, she imagined it was him—and, yes, he was gorgeous, she supposed, if your taste ran to that sort of thing.

      Tall, dark, handsome, clichéd—the 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.

      ‘Ah, Jo—perfect timing.’

      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 didn’t do that to her!

      Matron smiled, holding out her arm to welcome her to the group. ‘This is Jo Halliday—she’s the senior community midwife. You’ll be seeing a lot of