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of ironing my own things.’

      ‘Yes. I’m sure you are,’ she told him, ‘but you are not going to tell me that my mum doesn’t do your ironing. I know her too well for that.’

      ‘Yes. Ruth does do my washing and ironing. It was part of the deal when I moved in.’

      ‘And so I’m taking her place.’

      ‘So it would seem,’ he commented dryly.

      This sort of domestic scene was the very thing he wanted to avoid, he thought as he went upstairs to change out of the suit he’d worn at the surgery.

      He didn’t want this forced intimacy to become too cosy.

      To begin with, Kate was too forthright and pushy. The absolute opposite of how Lucy had been. She had been gentle and amenable, with long silky hair and a piquant face. Life without her was an empty thing. Yet the woman downstairs ironing his shirts wasn’t to blame for that. It was just that he didn’t want any more complications in his life than he had already.

      There was the business of her mentioning the vacancy at the surgery. The more they were thrown together the more she might see it as a reason for him to offer it to her, and he wasn’t going to be manipulated.

      They had a meal of sorts. Eating together at the kitchen table, pizza and a fruit flan that Ruth had put in the freezer. Short of being downright rude there was no way he could have avoided it. But once they’d cleared away he said, ‘I’m going upstairs for a while to unwind. If I don’t see you later, sleep well.’

      Once in his room he lay down on top of the bed and picked up a book that he’d half read, but he couldn’t settle into it. He felt restless and it was all because of Kate downstairs, who, if she had something to say, came out with it.

      She had barged into his life just a short time ago and ever since he’d felt as if his organised existence was being threatened. Yet Kate was vulnerable too in her own way. Trying to cope with being surplus to requirements for some low-life who had strung her along. She didn’t deserve that.

      She’d got the message, Kate thought when he’d gone. In a roundabout sort of way he was telling her to keep her distance. That enough was enough, and she couldn’t blame him.

      If she needed employment it was up to her to look for it instead of expecting it to be handed to her on a plate. But she was going to have to move out of the area if Daniel didn’t want her in the practice.

      She glanced through a magazine, watched some television half-heartedly, and finally decided to go to bed for lack of anything else to do. The days were stretching ahead emptily and she wished that Gran was better and her mother was home.

      Ruth had never liked Craig. She’d thought he had a wandering eye and sadly she hadn’t been wrong.

      They’d drifted into a relationship, working long hours together, snatching quick meals. Talking shop sometimes, and at others letting the close environment they worked in shut out everyone else, so that it had been as if there had only been the two of them.

      The odd thing was at this troubled time in her life the fates had sent another man into it, and the more she saw of Daniel the more Craig was becoming a shadowy figure. Yet she knew nothing about the GP who had taken Peter Swain’s place in the village’s health centre.

      He was far too attractive for the women he met to overlook deep hazel eyes and hair as dark as ebony curling neatly above his ears, yet he was alone and seemingly un-attached.

      Surely he must have someone, somewhere who cared for him. A wife or a partner, a mother, or a sister. Or was the house he was having built by the river just for himself?

      One thing was sure. She wasn’t going to ask him. She’d already floored him twice in one day by her determination to give away the wedding dress and almost in the same breath asking him about the vacancy at the practice. It was more than likely that he thought she wasn’t exactly broken-hearted if she was job-hunting two days after her arrival and disposing of the dress that must have meant a lot to her at the same time.

      She kept her tears for when she was alone in the dark hours of the night. The feeling of not being wanted hurt so much that she had to push it to the back of her mind when she was with Daniel in case she made a fool of herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel that she was looking for a shoulder to cry on.

      Getting up off the sofa, she began to walk slowly upstairs, having given up on seeing him again before morning, but as she reached the landing the door of his bedroom opened and he was framed there, dressed in a thick sweater and jeans with a sheepskin jacket over the top.

      ‘Hi,’ he said warily. ‘You aren’t going to bed, are you?’

      ‘Yes,’ she told him flatly. ‘There doesn’t seem much else to do.’

      ‘It’s only half past nine.’

      ‘So?’

      She looked pale and lost and he weakened, saying, ‘I’m going down to the pub for an hour. Do you want to come?’

      He couldn’t believe he’d said it when the words were out. This wasn’t keeping Kate at a distance. Her expression had brightened but she was hesitating.

      ‘That would be nice,’ she said, ‘but I hope that everyone doesn’t start asking questions about why I’ve come back to live. I presume my mother will have told some people that I’m engaged and they’ll be curious because it wasn’t someone local, but I don’t want to suddenly be the focus of attention.’ Kate sighed. ‘It hurt a lot to have my trust betrayed. The fact that I won’t be wearing the wedding dress or honeymooning abroad is disappointing, but delightful as those things are, they’re just the trappings of a wedding. It’s knowing that the person you’re marrying can be trusted to love and cherish you that matters. With Craig that was never going to happen, so I suppose I should consider myself to have had a lucky escape, but it doesn’t make the pain go away.’

      ‘I can believe that,’ Daniel said gravely, finding himself wishing that he knew her well enough to offer comfort. ‘But, Kate, you will have to face the people around here some time, so why not get it over and done with?’

      She smiled for the first time since they’d met on the landing. ‘Yes. Why not? At least I’ll have you for moral support.’

      ‘You will indeed,’ he promised, and thought that it was a long time since he’d felt so protective over anyone, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be like that.

      A diversion was called for and, remembering little Billy Giles, he asked her, ‘Have you ever seen or treated anyone with Sydenham’s chorea, rheumatism of the central nervous system?’

      She frowned thoughtfully. ‘I know what it is, but I’ve never treated anyone with it. Although I do believe I once saw someone whose life had been blighted by it.’

      ‘So go and get your coat and make sure that you wrap up warm. It isn’t long since you were ill, so don’t take any chances, and you can tell me about it while we’re walking to the pub.’

      Kate nodded and went into her room to quickly get ready while Daniel waited downstairs. Then they stepped out of the house and began the pleasant walk towards the pub.

      ‘So why are you asking about Sydenham’s chorea?’ Kate asked immediately. ‘You haven’t got a patient with it, have you?’

      ‘I might have, and it’s very much on my mind. A young boy who from the sound of it has had a severe throat infection, came to see me this morning with his mother. He was making uncontrollable neck movements all the time and I suspect that it is the jolly old St Vitus’ dance as it used to be called way back.’

      ‘What makes you think so? The twitching of the neck?’

      ‘Yes, that, and also what happened when I tested him in the same way that a neurologist once did on a patient that I’d sent to him with the same kind of problem.’

      ‘What

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