‘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,