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His brain was in overdrive. There was no way he could leave them here. Not now he’d seen it. Not now he’d smelled it.
This was about work. He was prioritising the needs of the labour suite above all others. That was what he was telling himself right now, but that was the only way he could make sense of the possibility that had just flown into his head.
‘You have to get her out of here. A child with asthma can’t possibly stay in an environment like this.’
This time she was blinking back tears. ‘What choice do I have?’ She sounded exasperated, her hand curled protectively around her daughter.
‘You can stay with me.’ The words were out before he even had a chance to think properly.
It made no sense. It made no sense whatsoever. He was a bachelor. After the last fourteen months he liked his solitude. His home was his salvation.
‘What?’ Bonnie straightened up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, you and your daughter can stay with me—until you find something more suitable, of course. I have space in my house. You can stay with me.’
‘No. No, we can’t do that.’ She was shaking her head. ‘We don’t even really know you.’
A wave of embarrassment came over him. After his behaviour this morning it was understandable that she was wary.
He took a deep breath. ‘Look, Bonnie, I’m sorry about this morning. I know I came across as difficult.’ He shook his head. ‘But that’s just me. It probably wasn’t the ideal first meeting.’ He held out his hands. ‘But there’s absolutely no way I’m letting you spend the next few days here with your daughter. Not while her health is at risk.’
It took a few seconds for the initial shocked expression on her face to disappear. Her tense shoulders gradually relaxed and she nodded slowly. Relief. That was what she was feeling now. It was palpable in the air all around them. The frown had disappeared from her brow and her blue eyes were focused clearly on him.
‘You really mean it?’ She seemed really hesitant.
It was clear she couldn’t believe it. ‘Freya and I can stay with you for a few days?’ She glanced around her. ‘We don’t need to stay in this mouldy motel room?’
‘Just until you find somewhere suitable.’ From the expression on her face any minute now she would jump for joy.
‘Of course.’ Parts of his insides were doing strange twisting things. Making him think the word no but not letting it come out. This was work. They’d found a new temporary ward sister who needed a short-term solution for accommodation. It was logical. That was all.
‘That’s such a weight off my mind. Thank you, Jacob. Will your wife or partner be okay with this? The last thing I want to do is foist myself and a five-year-old on someone unexpectedly.’
Jacob gave the tiniest shake of his head. ‘No wife. No partner.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘No time.’ He squirmed a little saying those words out loud. Most single guys would probably be delighted to declare their freedom to the world. But for some reason it made him sound so isolated.
‘And it won’t be too much of an inconvenience to you?’ Her voice rose a little at the end of the sentence, as if she were worried at any minute he might change his mind.
‘How much trouble can a five-year-old be?’ He was giving her a half smile as a whole surge of wariness swept over him. He had absolutely no experience with five-year-olds. He didn’t even know how to have a conversation with one. He tried to rationalise things out loud. ‘It makes sense. We need a ward sister to get on top of things in the labour ward. The last thing you need is for your daughter to be sick and to spend your time at work worrying about where you’re staying. It’s logical.’
She held out her hands. ‘You’ll need to give us a few minutes to pack. Thankfully we didn’t really have a chance to unpack last night.’
* * *
It was almost as if Bonnie went into automatic pilot. She started pushing things haphazardly into a large blue case, then sat on it to close it. Now he’d made the offer it was clear she couldn’t wait to get out of here—no matter how temporary the solution. And the truth was, he couldn’t wait to get out of here either.
‘Here,’ he said, gesturing her to move. ‘Let me. I’ll push down and you can snap it shut.’
It did only take her a few minutes. But by the time she was finished there were four bulging suitcases for the car as well as the car seat. He gave her a wink. ‘Just as well I brought my four-by-four and not my sports car. How on earth did you get down from the train with these?’
Something juddered through him. Had he just winked at her? What on earth was wrong with him? Since when did he do things like that?
This woman was having a strange effect on him.
But Bonnie didn’t seem to notice. She just looked a little sheepish. ‘It’s a bit hard trying to ram all your worldly goods into some suitcases. Particularly when your five-year-old wants to bring all twenty of her favourite cuddly toys.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve got some stuff in storage as well at my mum and dad’s. Once we find somewhere to stay I’ll send for it.’
He picked up the first two cases and carried them out to the car. All of a sudden he felt as if he’d put his foot in his mouth. He wasn’t trying to offend her. He’d spent the last year so focused on his treatment and keeping the department running that he hadn’t bothered much with social niceties. Maybe it was time to start paying attention again.
Bonnie went to pay her bill as he loaded the last two cases into the car. ‘You shouldn’t have paid anything. That place is a disgrace.’
She strapped Freya back in and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Don’t. He wanted me to pay for the whole week because we’ve left early.’
‘I hope you refused.’
She gave him a wink. ‘Of course I did.’
He started the car with a smile. Just as well he hadn’t been driving. He’d have probably swerved off the road. She had seen the wink and had taken it as intended—in good humour. Thank goodness. He couldn’t afford to tiptoe around someone who would be staying in his house. He must have been crazy inviting her to stay. She must have been crazy to accept. Either that, or she was desperate.
And he already knew that she was.
He had to keep remembering that. Otherwise his mind might start to drift in other directions. He’d never shared his house with a woman before. Let alone a woman and child. He was used to his own space. This had disaster written all over it.
His stomach started to churn a little. This was the craziest thing he’d ever done. He knew that his house was tidy—Monday was the day his housekeeper came. He’d texted her earlier and asked her to pick up some food for him. His fridge was currently bare. It was hardly hospitable to invite a mother and child back with not even a drop of milk in the fridge.
There. That was better. A mother and child seemed a much safer thought than anything that involved the name Bonnie.
He pulled up outside his Victorian town house. It had just started to rain and Bonnie pressed her nose up against the glass. ‘Please tell me you only own part of that.’
He opened the car door. ‘Nope. It’s all mine. Including the ancient kennel in the back garden.’
He felt a little surge of pride in his heart that she liked his house. It was very traditional for Cambridge. Set in a residential area, in the middle of the city, the three-storey town house was just moments away from the river and college boathouses.
‘You have a dog?’
Freya. He’d almost forgotten she was there. She had that expression on her face again. The little frown line across her forehead. She was standing in the rain staring up at the bay window at the front of the house. He pulled her hood up over her head. ‘No. Sorry, I don’t. I just have a really old kennel.’
He popped the boot and lifted out the first two cases, then walked up the path and deposited them at the doorway while he fished for his keys. ‘Give me a sec,’ he said as he opened the door and turned off the alarm. ‘Go inside. I’ll get the other cases.’
The rain was getting heavier now and it only took a few seconds to wrestle the other cases from the back of the car and get inside. He closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.
Home was usually his sanctuary. The place he came back to after work or treatment, closed the blinds and ignored the world. Chances were, he wouldn’t get to do that any time soon. Thank goodness his treatment was over. Now he just had to wait for his results.
Bonnie had picked Freya up and carried her through the long corridor and turned left into the main lounge. He heard the little suck in of breath. What did that mean?
He dumped the cases at the door and followed her into the lounge. She spun around to face him. ‘Wow. This place is just yours? It’s gorgeous.’ She set Freya down on the floor and walked over to the fireplace. ‘This is just amazing. Does it work? Do you have a real fire on a winter’s night?’ She crouched down and touched the tile work around the fireplace.
He’d always been proud of his home, but for the first time he felt a little regretful. He touched the marble surround. ‘No. I’ve never had the chimney swept. It is apparently in working order. I just never got around to it.’ He pointed to the walls. ‘I do have the original cast-iron radiators. So don’t worry. You won’t be cold.’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m not worried about being cold.’ She looked down. ‘The floorboards are gorgeous too. Are they original?’ She knelt down and ran her hand along the floor. He was learning quickly that Bonnie was a very tactile person.
‘I sanded them down. It took about a year to do the whole house.’
She nodded in approval. ‘I noticed the gorgeous geometric floor tiles on the way in too. I always wanted a hallway with those.’ She looked a little lost in her own thoughts, then gave a little shrug. ‘I’d be happy just to have a hallway right now.’
‘Those tiles were hidden under the ugliest shag-pile carpet you’ve ever seen.’
She gasped. ‘Really?’ Then shuddered. ‘What a crime to cover those up.’
‘It probably saved them from being ruined. I’ve had them all coated now with something that should mean they last the next hundred years.’
She took a look around her. ‘I’ll never be able to afford a place like this. You’re so lucky.’
Lucky. Now there was a word he’d never use to describe himself. Over the course of such an eventful day he’d realised how easy it was to be around Bonnie. Now it struck him how little she actually knew him. How little most of the staff at CRMU actually knew him. He could count on one hand the people he’d actually trusted with his secret. They knew how much he’d struggled this last year. How frustrated he’d been when he couldn’t deal with patients because of the type of chemotherapy he was undergoing. How much he wanted just to get back to normal and do his job the way he always had.
Lucky. Maybe he was lucky. His cancer was treatable. Other types weren’t. He’d managed to undergo his treatment quietly with only one day off work sick. Good planning had played a huge part in that. Having a cancer treatment team who were willing to allow him to start chemotherapy on a Thursday evening, which meant the after-effects didn’t really hit until the Friday night, meant he could still work, then spend most weekends in bed to allow himself to recover.
But he still didn’t feel lucky. His mother certainly hadn’t been. She’d had the same type of cancer that he had—non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It was generally thought that it wasn’t an inherited disease. But tell that to the families where more than one person had it. There was just so much still to learn about these diseases. So many genes in the body where they still couldn’t determine their purpose.
But his last treatment was finished now. In a few weeks’ time he’d have his bloods rechecked to see if the treatment had worked and his cancer was finally gone. The whole black cloud that had been hanging over his head for the last fourteen months would finally be gone. Maybe. Hopefully.
Bonnie was still walking around. She had a little look of wonder on her face. As if she really did love the place. She stood with her back to the bay window and looked across the room. A smile lit up her face. She was obviously seeing something that he didn’t.
‘This place must be so gorgeous at Christmastime. I can just imagine it.’ She spun around and held out her hands. ‘A huge tree at this window that everyone out on the street can see.’ She walked towards the fireplace again. ‘One of those green and red garlands for the mantel, with some twinkling lights.’ She turned back to the window. ‘And some old-fashioned heavy-duty velvet curtains around the window.’ She touched the white blinds that were currently in place and gave a little frown. ‘Do you change these at Christmas? It’s such a gorgeous bay window. You should make the most of it.’
He could almost hear the shutters clanging into place in his brain. He saw it. The pictures in her head that would never be in his. Never. He didn’t do Christmas—hadn’t since he was a young boy.
She couldn’t possibly know. She couldn’t possibly understand. He and his father had literally watched the life being sucked out of his mother. She’d died around Christmastime and the season celebrations had been a permanent reminder ever since. He hated Christmas. He’d always offered to work it, and since most of his colleagues had children they’d always been happy to accept his offer. He’d never hung a single decoration in his home. He didn’t even own any.
He could see her gaze narrow ever so slightly as she looked more critically now around the whitewashed room with white window blinds. Apart from the wooden floor, the only thing that gave the room some colour was the dark leather suite.
He’d always loved his house. It suited his needs fine. He didn’t want to accommodate anyone else’s opinions or tastes.
He walked back out to the hall. Away from the look of expectation on Bonnie’s face. Away from her smiling, overactive imagination. ‘I don’t really have time for Christmas, or to decorate. There’s not much point. I’m always on duty at the hospital anyway. Come on, I’ll show you both where your rooms are.’
He didn’t even wait to see if she was following him. Just picked up the first two cases and headed to the stairs. Bonnie still had that glazed expression on her face. She touched the banister. ‘This must be beautiful with tinsel wound around it.’
He swept past her on the staircase. ‘Not going to happen. Not in this house.’ He was done being subtle. She hadn’t picked up on the first clues. He was going to have to hang a sign saying ‘No Christmas’ above the mantelpiece. What did it matter anyway—by Christmas she wouldn’t be here. Not in his house anyway.
He paused at the landing, ignoring her puzzled expression and cutting her off before she had the chance to speak. ‘There’s three bedrooms on this floor—one of which is mine—and two bedrooms and a bathroom on the floor above. I think you and Bonnie might be better up there. More privacy for you both.’
More privacy for me too. He didn’t want to wander along the hall half dressed to find a little red-haired girl with her disapproving glare.
He started up the other flight of stairs before Bonnie really had a chance to reply. The housekeeper had definitely been in today. The doors of both rooms were open and he could smell the freshly laundered linen on the beds. He put the cases in the first room that had a double bed. ‘I’m assuming you’ll sleep in here and Freya next door. There’s a single in there. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall.’ He walked along the corridor and flicked the light switch in the white-tiled bathroom. He hadn’t really thought about it before. Just about everything in this house was white.
He watched as Freya walked suspiciously into the single room, her eyes flitting from side to side. She looked at the single bed covered in a white duvet, the chest of drawers, and then turned around and walked back to Bonnie, wrapping her arms around her waist and cuddling her tight.
Her actions gave Jacob a start. There was nothing wrong with this room. It was fine. Why didn’t she like it? He took a few seconds and looked again. Maybe the room was a little stark. Maybe it wasn’t exactly welcoming for a little girl. But how on earth would he know what a little girl would like? It wasn’t as if he’d had any practice. The kids he was generally around were only a few days or hours old.
‘Maybe you’d like to sleep in with your mum?’ He had no idea where that had come from. Chances were, he’d just committed some huge parenting faux pas. He was just struggling to understand Freya’s reaction to the perfectly acceptable room.
Bonnie looked up and shot him a grateful glance. ‘We’ll play it by ear. Thank you, Jacob.’
He gave a relieved nod. ‘Sorry, I didn’t show you the kitchen or the back sitting room. It has a more comfortable sofa—and another TV and DVD player.’ A thought darted into his brain. ‘The only place I’d prefer Freya stay out of is my office downstairs.’ The place was full of research about non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Statistics for everything, including the most successful forms of treatment. Freya wouldn’t be able to read any of that but Bonnie would if she followed Freya in.
‘Absolutely no problem.’ Bonnie had wound her hand through Freya’s hair and was stroking the back of her neck. Did she know she was doing it? Or was it just a subconscious act?
‘There’s some food in the kitchen. Help yourself to anything that’s in the fridge, freezer or cupboards.’ He glanced at Freya. ‘I’m not quite sure what Freya will like but my housekeeper picked up some groceries for me today. Or you could have some toast if you prefer?’
He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. This had been his craziest idea yet. A woman who was practically a stranger and a child who was clearly uncomfortable around him—and he’d invited them to stay in his home.
For the first time in a long time, Jacob Layton felt well and truly out of his depth.
* * *
Jacob was waiting for an answer. He had that anxious look on his face again. The one that kept appearing every few minutes. It was clear he wasn’t used to having people in his house and she realised just what an inconvenience this must be to him. Her stomach flip-flopped with guilt. He must have regretted his offer as soon as the words had left his mouth.
But he seemed so anxious to please. It was almost cute. And she could bet that Jacob Layton had never been described as cute before.
She swallowed. She’d kill for a cup of tea right now. But it just didn’t seem right to walk into someone else’s kitchen and make yourself at home. ‘I didn’t mean to put you to so much trouble, Jacob. Please apologise to your housekeeper for me. I didn’t mean to give her additional work.’
He waved his hand. ‘You haven’t. She shops for me on occasion anyway. I’m just not sure how much she’ll have got as I didn’t know I’d have guests. Check the fridge. I’ll go and get your other cases.’ He disappeared down the stairs as she stared at the bulging cases in the white room. Her blue case looked ready to explode. It was so out of place in here. A huge splash of colour against the stark white room. Thank goodness for the wooden floorboards. They added a little warmth about the place.
She shuffled over to the case, Freya still attached to her waist. It was clear her little girl was feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation. And to be truthful—she was too.
He had no idea what he’d let himself in for. Once she opened those cases his beautiful, pristine house would never look the same again. It wasn’t that she was messy—she would never be messy staying as a guest in someone’s house. It was just—once she opened the cases—things would start to get everywhere, as if they had self-migrating powers. And she wasn’t quite sure how Jacob would feel about that. She let out a sigh and sat down on the bed, pulling Freya along with her. The comfortable mattress almost swallowed them up.
This place was a thousand times better than the motel. Here, she wouldn’t be worried about Freya’s asthma flaring up. The house was warm without being too hot. It was clean. It was spacious. They had their own rooms—they almost had their own floor.
Money. The thought came out of nowhere and she sat bolt upright. She hadn’t offered him any money. There was no way she could stay here rent-free. It was quite obvious that Jacob was putting himself out for them. She would have to find a way to bring it up. But she had a bad feeling about how it would go.
Jacob. It was strange being in his house. His home. But that was just it. It didn’t really feel like a home.
The white everywhere made it seem almost clinical. She would have imagined him staying in some brand-new luxury penthouse flat—not an old Victorian town house. It was beautiful. There was no doubt about that, and she hadn’t even seen the kitchen yet.
But there were no pictures. No family photos. He hadn’t even mentioned his family yet. There was no little sign of ‘him’ anywhere in the house. Who was Jacob Layton?
She ran her fingers across the bedspread. That was what was wrong. This was a beautiful house. But it didn’t feel like home. Why?
A house like this should exude warmth, character. And Jacob’s house wasn’t like that. She had the overwhelming urge to change the curtains in the lounge, to buy some different bedspreads for the white rooms and to add some accessories—some red towels in the white bathrooms, some pictures along the walls in the hall. A splash of colour was just what this place needed. She shook her head. This wasn’t her home and she should just be grateful to have somewhere to stay. It was none of her business how Jacob chose to decorate his beautiful home.
‘Come on, pumpkin. Let’s leave the cases for now and go and find some dinner.’ She took Freya’s warm hand in hers and led her downstairs, blinking as she entered the kitchen. Just as she expected. White and chrome, all gleaming and sparkling.
But there was one nice little touch. The worktop wasn’t granite like most designer kitchens. The worktop was a thick wooden polished surface that led to a deep white Belfast sink. It offset the rest of the white and chrome, giving the kitchen a little more warmth.
There was no kitchen table, just a central island with high black bar-style stools. She positioned Freya carefully on one and looked in the freezer. No—not a single thing.
She frowned and opened the fridge. Two steaks. One steak pie, some bacon, some eggs and two carefully wrapped bundles from the fishmongers. One labelled as cod in breadcrumbs. Even the fish fingers were posh round here.
Jacob appeared at her back as she was hunting for some oven trays and baking foil. ‘Are you getting on okay?’
She nodded and smiled. ‘We decided to eat first and unpack later. We both had first days today and we’re pretty wiped out.’
He opened a cupboard and took out some wine glasses, then glanced at Freya and swapped one for a tumbler. ‘Would you like some wine?’
She shook her head. ‘Honestly? I’m just too tired. I’d love a cup of tea though. And I still need to empty our cases. Could you show me where the washing machine is? I’d appreciate it if we could do some laundry.’
He stood up and opened a few cupboards. ‘My housekeeper always buys some fruit and some biscuits—they’re in here. Tea and coffee is here. If you turn the red button down on the tap you’ll get boiling water.’
‘From the tap?’
He nodded. ‘Saves boiling the kettle—’ he glanced sideways ‘—and it’s too high up for Freya to reach. There’s a proper cappuccino maker next to the oven if you prefer.’ He gave a little smile. ‘To be honest there’s too many buttons. I’ve never used it. But the instructions are there—you’re welcome to christen it if you wish.’
He pointed behind her as he ducked into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of diet cola. ‘Utility room is through there. There’s a washing machine, tumble dryer and dishwasher, as well as another toilet and the door to the back garden. Freya’s welcome to play out there if it’s warm enough.’ He gave a little grimace. ‘I think the only thing you’ll find out there is an old football.’