‘No...no, not since I saw him that day at the Seafarer when his father was taken ill.’ Sophie hastily tried to calm him. It was true. She hadn’t seen him. She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d phoned the Manor House the next day to find out how Lord Branscombe was faring. After all, it had been an innocent enquiry—she’d expected to talk to Charlotte, and it had been a shock to have Nate answer the phone.
‘I haven’t seen him,’ she said again, calmly, concerned that her father was still looking tense, his fingers gripping tightly on the arms of his wheelchair, ‘so I assume he’s busy visiting his father and talking to the Estate Manager to see how they can keep things jogging along.’
‘Hmmph.’ He slumped back in his seat. ‘I don’t want either of us to have anything more to do with that family. James is an arrogant, self-centred womaniser and his son is likely no better.’
‘We don’t know that Nate is like that,’ she said in a reasonable tone. ‘He hasn’t been around here for any length of time these past few years, has he, so how can we judge him?’
‘He can’t escape heredity,’ her father said flatly. ‘It’ll be in the genes. That’s all you need to know. Besides, he upset you... I know you and he argued but you were broken-hearted when he went away.’
‘It was a bad time. You were injured and struggling to come to terms with being disabled and I was confused and lashed out.’ Sophie sighed inwardly. She understood her father’s dislike of the Branscombes and his hostility towards them. After all, he’d worked for Lord Branscombe for years and had suffered in the end because of it, but it was hard for her to share his animosity towards the son. Her mind drifted back to that last conversation she’d had with Nate.
He’d been more than pleased to talk to her that day when she’d telephoned the Manor House. Despite his troubles, his voice was warm and welcoming, sending little thrills to run along her spine. Just hearing him had made her feel that he was close by, almost as though he was in the room with her. She’d been concerned for him, though, wondering how he was bearing up, and tried to keep her mind on the business in hand.
‘They’re assessing my father in the Coronary Care Unit,’ he’d said when she asked about Lord Branscombe. ‘I think they’re planning on removing the blood clot and putting a stent in one of his arteries. It’s looking as though he’ll be in hospital for some time.’
They’d talked for a while and he said, ‘I’m sorry things turned out the way they did—both for my father and for selfish reasons... It was good seeing you again, Sophie. I’m sorry our get-together came to such an abrupt end.’
‘Yes...though I wasn’t expecting you to turn up that day or I—’ She broke off.
‘Or you’d have gone out of your way to avoid me.’ She could hear the wry inflection in his voice and she flinched, knowing what he said was the truth.
Seeing him again had stirred up all sorts of feelings inside her that she’d thought were long since forgotten...or at least pushed to one side. But she didn’t want to go there again—to start up something that would only end in distress.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she sought for a way to bring the conversation to an end. ‘I’m sure your father’s in good hands, Nate. He’ll be glad to have you by his side as he recovers.’
‘Yes, he seems calmer, knowing I’m here for him.’
‘That’s good.’ She hesitated, cautious about getting more deeply involved with him, and then said, ‘I should go. Maybe I’ll see you around.’
‘Sophie, couldn’t we—?’ Nate started to speak but she quickly cut the call before she could change her mind.
‘Bye.’ She had no idea what he must have made of her rush to get away, but he already knew she was trying to keep her distance from him.
‘Anyway,’ her father was saying, ‘it looks as though the tenancies could be at risk if what the papers say is true.’ His brow was furrowed with anxiety. ‘I’ve grown used to living here since the crash—I have wheelchair access, handrails... I don’t want to have to move...to have to go through the upheaval all over again...’
‘It probably won’t come to that,’ she said, trying to soothe him. ‘I suppose we’re all in much the same boat—my place is rented too. But, as far as I know, the press stories are just speculation. It’s too soon yet for anything to have been decided.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ He glanced at Charlie, snoozing in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Thanks for taking him out for me every day. It’s good of you and I do appreciate what you do for me—I know how hard you work.’
She smiled at him and stood up to clear away the breakfast dishes. ‘I like to keep an eye on you. I was worried when you had that chest infection, but you look so much better now.’ She finished tidying up and then glanced at her watch. ‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have a date first thing with those gorgeous little babies in the Neonatal Unit.’
‘Ah...that’s the bit you like best of all about your job, isn’t it? Looking after the tiny infants.’
‘It is.’ She gave him a quick kiss and a hug, patted a sleepy Charlie on the head and headed out of the door.
She drove to work, following the coast road for a while, uplifted as always by the sight of the wide, sweeping bay and the rugged landscape of cliffs and inlets. After a mile or two she turned inland, driving along a country road until gradually it gave way to suburbia and eventually the local town came into view. She parked the car at the hospital and made her way inside the building.
There was one baby in particular she was eager to see this morning. Alfie had been born prematurely at twenty-seven weeks and had been looked after in Intensive Care for the last couple of months. She’d followed his progress day by day. Now that he was a little stronger and in a better stage of development, Sophie had been able to withdraw his nasogastric feeding tube and she was keen to see how he and his mum were coping with him taking milk from a bottle. They’d had a few attempts at feeding him over the last couple of days, but so far it hadn’t been going too well.
‘Hi there, Mandy,’ Sophie greeted the young woman who was sitting by the baby’s cot, holding the infant in her arms. She looked down at the tiny baby, his little fingers clenched, his pink mouth pouting, seeking nourishment. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’
Mandy smiled agreement, though at the moment the baby was squirming, crying intermittently and obviously hungry. The nurse on duty brought a bottle of milk and handed it to Mandy, who gently placed the teat in her baby’s mouth.
Alfie sucked greedily, gulped, swallowed and forgot to breathe, causing him to choke on the milk, and Mandy looked anxious. ‘He keeps doing that,’ she said worriedly.
‘It’s all right, Mandy,’ Sophie said softly. ‘It’s something they have to learn, to remember to breathe while they’re feeding. Sometimes they stop breathing for a few seconds because the heart rate is a little slow—as in Alfie’s case—but we’ve added a shot of caffeine to his milk to give him a little boost. There’s supplemental iron in there too, because being born prematurely means his iron stores are a bit low.’
‘Will he always have this low heart rate?’ The young mother was full of concern for her baby.
‘No, no. Things will get better as he matures. In the meantime, the caffeine will help. You can relax. He’s doing really well.’ Sophie lightly stroked the baby’s hand. ‘Look, he’s sucking better already.’
She left the unit a few minutes later, after checking up on a couple of other babies, and then went along to the Children’s Unit. An eleven-year-old girl had been admitted a couple of days ago, suffering from septicaemia, and she wanted to see how she was doing.
‘Sophie—I was hoping I might catch up with you at some