Their Very Special Marriage. Kate Hardy

a small child from scratching the itchy spots was, well, almost impossible, Rachel thought. She’d tried reading the little girl’s favourite stories, letting Sophie loose with the CD-ROMs on Oliver’s old computer which they kept under the stairs for the kids to use, drawing pictures with her, reading more stories, doing jigsaw puzzles, reading more stories... And now Rachel was more shattered than if she’d gone in to the surgery. The house was a mess—she hadn’t even had time to hang the washing out, let alone tidy up—and Sophie was decidedly grumpy.

      ‘Daddy’s home!’ Sophie yelled.

      Since when was delirium a symptom of chickenpox? Rachel wondered. The usual complications were bacterial infection of the spots if they were scratched, ear infections, conjunctivitis and rarely meningitis or encephalitis—inflammation of the brain, which started about four days after the rash first appeared. Any signs of drowsiness, breathing problems, convulsions or a stiff neck and dislike of bright lights and Rachel would drive Sophie straight to the nearest emergency department.

      ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’

      ‘How’s my best girl?’ Oliver’s deep voice asked.

      Rachel blinked and glanced at the clock. Lunchtime. Oliver never came home at lunchtime. Ever.

      He walked into the kitchen, with Sophie sitting on his shoulders. ‘Hi,’ he said, giving Rachel the broad grin which had made her fall head over heels for him as a student.

      Despite the fear gnawing in her stomach—the fear that today was the day when Oliver would bring everything into the open and she’d learn something she really, really didn’t want to know—she couldn’t help smiling back. ‘This is a nice surprise.’

      ‘I can’t stay long—but I thought you’d be going stir-crazy, being cooped up at home, so if you want to go out and have a walk or something?’

      Her fairy godmother had definitely been at work. ‘Thanks. I could do with ten minutes to myself,’ she admitted. ‘Want me to make you a sandwich first?’

      ‘No need.’ Gently, he lifted Sophie from his shoulders and set her on the floor. ‘I brought supplies. Bacon and Brie baguettes to go, from the Red Lion. Plus the stuff to stop the itching. And something special for my little girl.’ He fetched a carrier bag from the hall, and fished out five comics for preschoolers.

      ‘Ooh, Daddy! Thank you!’ Sophie squeaked.

      ‘And for Robin.’ He put a puzzle magazine on the table, and Rachel blinked in surprise. Oliver had noticed that Rob liked doing puzzles?

      ‘And...’ He brought out a bottle of red wine and a DVD. A romantic comedy—the sort of film he absolutely hated and Rachel adored. ‘Something for us, tonight.’

      For us? He was actually planning to spend time with her tonight? Rachel was so shocked that she burst into tears.

      Immediately, Oliver put his arms round her and held her close. ‘Hey. It’s OK,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘Soph’s going to be absolutely fine. Don’t worry about work—the practice will manage without you for today, and I’ve got a locum to cover you from Monday. I’ve known Caroline Prentiss for years.’

      ‘Caroline Prentiss?’ The name sounded familiar, but Rachel couldn’t think why.

      ‘She’s just moved back into the area—she was looking for a locum job, so that’s all sorted. And I’ve asked Prunella to chase the lab for Megan’s serum results.’

      Which meant they’d get the results double-quick—everyone was scared of Prunella, except Oliver. ‘Thank you,’ Rachel muttered against his chest. ‘Sorry. I’m just being...’ Her voice tailed off.

      ‘You’ve been cooped up with a sick toddler all morning, and I don’t pull my weight in the house. It’s no wonder you’re feeling tired and tearful.’

      And relieved, Rachel thought. This was the Oliver she knew and loved: a workaholic, but one who still found time for those he loved. Maybe he was right. Maybe they’d just been at cross-purposes these last few months. Everything was going to be all right.

      ‘Why’s Mummy crying?’ Sophie wanted to know.

      ‘Because she’s feeling a bit out of sorts, too,’ Oliver said. He kissed the top of Rachel’s head, then stepped back. ‘Right, you. Go and get some fresh air for five minutes. I’ll make us a coffee, then we’ll have lunch together. Just like we should have done yesterday.’

      When he’d been too busy. And he was even busier today, covering for her as well as doing his own list. Guilt flooded through her. ‘You had to cancel things, didn’t you?’

      He shrugged. ‘They can wait.’ He smiled. ‘Five minutes. Or I’ll eat your baguette as well as my own!’

      She knew that look. Teasing, loving... Her husband was back. And he wasn’t—absolutely wasn’t—having an affair. He loved her, she loved him, and all was right with her world again.

      So why was there still that little niggle in the back of her mind?