‘I can.’ Emily’s voice rose with astonishment. ‘I can do it. Mummy forgetted.’
Sarah laughed. ‘Perhaps I did. You’ll have to show me all over again.’ She knew very well that Emily was beginning to manage her clothes for herself, but even so she had to acknowledge that it wasn’t unusual for her to have trouble recalling the small everyday things that cropped up. There were still times when she felt confused, as though her mind was playing tricks on her.
She was getting better every day, though, and yesterday’s visit to the cottage had been something of a landmark achievement, albeit that it had been marred by her unexpected meeting with the good-looking doctor.
What must he have made of her? He probably thought that she was a strange young woman with a decidedly nonconformist manner. Then again, she had at least managed to recover her composure, and she had been able to talk to him as though her actions were perfectly normal.
Even Carol had to admit that she was stronger in all ways… Sarah frowned. All but the one that really counted.
It was a fact that she still didn’t know who she was, and her past remained a mystery to her. Much as she loved her daughter, it still seemed alien to her to have discovered that she was the mother of this beautiful child. These last few months had been like a rebirth, in every sense, and each day that passed brought with it new challenges.
‘See, Mummy? I done it myself.’ Emily shrugged into her T-shirt and beamed at Sarah, bringing her out of her reverie.
‘So you have. Clever girl.’
After breakfast, Sarah gathered up her bag in readiness for the day ahead, and then started to look around for her notebook. Her brow furrowed. She was sure that she had put it somewhere safe, in a place where she would easily find it.
‘Have you lost something?’ Carol asked. Emily’s foster- mother was stacking crockery in the dishwasher, but now she stopped what she was doing in order to glance quizzically across the kitchen in Sarah’s direction.
‘My notepad,’ Sarah murmured. ‘I thought I had left it on the top of the sideboard, but it isn’t there.’
‘I saw you sliding it into your document wallet last night,’ Carol said. ‘You said that you had finished writing your pieces for the local newspaper and you would drop them in to the office today when you went into town to see the estate agent.’
‘Of course I did.’ Sarah slapped a hand to her forehead. ‘I thought it would be easier if I kept everything together.’ She sighed. ‘I should have written myself a memo and stuck it on the fridge.’
Carol smiled. ‘Not to worry. You’re getting there, little by little.’
Sarah’s mouth made a crooked slant. ‘At least it’s not just me having problems if the mishap over the key is anything to go by.’
‘That’s true. The estate agent must have had a momentary lapse.’ Carol hesitated, sending her a thoughtful glance. ‘So, are you still set on taking on the cottage?’
Sarah nodded. ‘It isn’t in the best of shape, but I don’t see that I have any choice. It’s about all that I can afford until my job prospects improve—my freelance writing is beginning to bring in a modest income, but it isn’t enough to provide a terrific standard of living. At least the effort I’ll have to put in to make the cottage into a home will be good therapy for me.’ She frowned. ‘I just hope that Social Services won’t decide that it’s not a fit place for Emily.’
‘I doubt they’ll object. After all, from the sound of it, there isn’t anything too untoward about the property, apart from some damp in the kitchen. Besides, having a doctor living next door might turn out to be an advantage.’
Sarah made a face. ‘I don’t think he’ll see it quite that way. The impression I had was that he would much prefer to be left to himself and, to be honest, that actually suits me right down to the ground. I need some space so that I can clear my head.’
‘Not too much space, I hope?’ Carol was frowning. ‘I know you want to take on more work, and that you’re determined to go it alone, but you have to think of Emily in all this. She’s been through a lot, with you being away in hospital for a time, and the last thing she needs is for you to suffer a relapse. That’s why you have to remember that I’m here for you, for both of you.’
Sarah clasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I will. Like I said, I’m not going to be far away, and we’ll be back to pester you on a regular basis.’
‘That will be fine by me.’ Carol’s face creased into a smile. ‘Did the neighbour say where it was that he worked? Perhaps he’s a GP, with a practice nearby. That would be handy for you and Emily, wouldn’t it?’
Sarah felt a rush of heat ripple through her at the mere thought. Ben Brinkley as her GP? Heaven forbid. Even now she could remember with startling clarity the feel of his long body brushing against hers as he had helped her. Her whole system had gone into overdrive.
‘I don’t think I would be in any hurry to sign up on his list,’ she said on a husky note. She could well imagine that her blood pressure would soar sky high just as soon as she stepped into any surgery run by him. ‘I’d much rather settle for a more genial, fatherly type.’ She frowned. ‘Anyway, he was at home in the middle of a weekday afternoon, so I doubt he’s in general practice. Maybe he works shifts at the local hospital.’
That would make living near to him easier to handle, from her point of view. After all, it meant that he would probably be working some weekends, and that would narrow down the risk of her running into him, wouldn’t it?
A short time later, after she had dropped Emily off at nursery school, Sarah drove into the local town. Parking her car, she walked across the cobbled square, and headed for the estate agent’s office.
‘I’m so sorry about the trouble you had,’ the young man said, getting up from behind his desk and coming towards her. ‘I must have put the wrong label on the key. It was lucky for you that the neighbour happened to be around yesterday when you visited the property.’
Sarah stared at him. ‘I remember ringing you to tell you about the mix-up,’ she said, ‘but how did you know about the neighbour? I don’t recall telling you about him.’
‘No…no, he rang me.’ His expression was something between apologetic and awkward. ‘I think he wanted to check that you were who you said you were. The property wasn’t meant to have been put on the market for another day or so and he wasn’t expecting anybody to be viewing it.’
Sarah winced. Dr Brinkley was certainly thorough in his way of getting to the bottom of things. He’d obviously had doubts about her version of events and somehow that didn’t seem to bode well for their forthcoming relationship as neighbours.
‘But the cottage is still up for rent, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes, it is.’ His face brightened. ‘Are you interested in taking up the tenancy, then?’
‘I am. Do you have some papers for me to sign?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, yes…I’ll sort them out right away.’ Clearly, he was eager to finalise things before she had the opportunity to change her mind, and just a few minutes later Sarah left the office. In her bag, she had the correct set of keys, and all the necessary documentation for her new tenancy.
Was this the beginning of a new life? The thought was a little daunting, but at least she had made a start. Straightening her shoulders, she began to walk along the street, heading in the direction of the offices of the local newspaper.
‘Oh, no… Stop…stop… Slow down…’ A woman’s voice rang out, shrill with desperation, and she put up a hand as though to indicate that someone should stop.