him.’
Jack looked startled, almost shocked. ‘He’ll be here as soon as that?’ He stared ahead for a moment, watching his daughter splashing energetically in the pool, then he said slowly, ‘So I suppose you’ll be fixing a date for the wedding, then?’
He watched her eager and excited expression, and she laughed. ‘Oh, I expect so, as soon as possible. And, of course, you’ll be best man, won’t you? I know Damian would want you to be.’
A look of slight embarrassment crossed his face. ‘He may have other plans. I don’t want to assume that he wants me…’
‘Nonsense!’ declared Francesca. ‘He was Susan’s brother and I know that he would want to include you in the ceremony. If Susan had been alive she would have been my bridesmaid—now it would be wonderful if Abby could do that for me instead. I’d love that and I’m sure she would, too. She’d look adorable in a special dress…’
Jack’s expression cleared and he smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘If you’re sure you want a four-year-old hanging onto your train. It could be dangerous!’ He shot a look at his watch, then called out to his daughter, ‘Come on, Abby—time to go to Sam’s party now. Let’s put your dress back on!’
Abby ran obediently out of the pool, giggling as some other children splashed her with water. ‘I’m coming!’ she yelled. ‘I’m going to get you all wet in a minute!’
Jack caught his daughter in his arms and hugged her. ‘You wouldn’t do that to Daddy, would you?’
‘Yes, I would,’ she shouted. She looked up at Francesca impishly. ‘Are you going to take me to the party, too?’ she asked.
Francesca was about to say that she’d be happy to stroll along with them when Jack interjected quickly. ‘Francesca’s given up a lot of her day already, Abby. She’s got a life of her own, you know, things she’s got to do without us! And when she’s married to Damian, we won’t see her as much as we do now.’
Abby’s underlip jutted out crossly. ‘I want her to come,’ she muttered. ‘Everyone else has mummies with them as well as daddies. They’d think she was my mummy…’
A shadow crossed Jack’s strong face. ‘You’ll have to make do with me, sweetheart,’ he said gently.
‘I really don’t mind coming with you, Jack,’ said Francesca, her heart going out in sympathy to the little girl.
Jack’s eyes flicked momentarily across to Francesca, meeting hers for a fleeting moment, an unreadable expression crossing his face. Then he shook his head. ‘No, no,’ he said briskly. ‘No need for that. I’ll see you at St Mary’s on Monday. Thanks again for your help today. Come on, Abby, love, I’ll carry you across the park.’
He strode off with the child in his arms, and Francesca watched them go with a funny feeling of regret—she loved being with them and, she had to confess, being a mother-figure to little Abby. She’d half hoped that she and Jack could have gone and had a cup of tea while Abby was at the party—it would have been good to have had a chat, discuss the branch of the family business Damian was hoping to set up when he returned home, and also talk about Abby and her new school. She was surprised that Jack hadn’t suggested it—they often spent Saturday afternoon together.
She turned and walked slowly back to the little terraced house she rented at the edge of the common, somehow feeling rather flat and deflated. Then she shook herself mentally. Jack was right—she had a life of her own, and Damian would be back soon. She wouldn’t have to rely on Jack to help her when anything in the house needed doing, and equally she wouldn’t be able to act as his escort when he needed someone to go to the theatre with or to a supper party with close friends. She’d got used to a certain way of life when Damian had gone to South America—and now, after six months, things would have to change!
Francesca paused at the doorstep and looked back across the park, where Jack’s diminishing figure could just be seen disappearing amongst the trees. She’d got to know him well these last few months and they’d become really good friends—he was so trustworthy and such fun. She wondered whether it was too soon after Sue’s death to find a girlfriend for him. Nevertheless, she would keep a lookout for a suitable girl and perhaps they could go out as a foursome. Feeling cheered by that thought, she went into the house.
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU JUST WOULDN’T believe what it was like last night—just completely scary. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!’
Corey Davidson flopped down on the pub bench, and Francesca Lovatt looked up from the letter she was absorbed in reading. ‘What, Corey?’ she said absently, then her face cleared. ‘Oh, yes…the speed-dating evening. I thought it was supposed to be fun?’
Corey groaned, her round face a picture of dejection. ‘I’m just no good at thinking of questions to ask people I’ve nothing in common with. You know I hate all sports and every man there seemed to be heavily into football, golf or tennis…’
‘Perhaps you ought to join a tennis club, then,’ suggested Frankie, putting the letter back in her pocket with a sigh and feeling slightly sick from the shock of its contents.
Corey scowled. ‘No fear. And it was deeply humiliating, too—I didn’t get anyone wanting my phone number!’
‘Did you want any of their phone numbers?’ enquired Frankie, unable to help smiling at her friend’s comically woebegone face, despite the news she’d just received.
‘No,’ admitted Corey. She looked enviously at Frankie. ‘You’re so lucky to have Damian—did you fix a date for the wedding when he was over?’
Frankie swallowed hard. ‘Not yet…You know he had to go back to South America unexpectedly when the manager of the factory died, so he was only here for a few days.’ She bit her lip and looked sadly at her friend, then added slowly, ‘Actually, I’ve just had a letter. He…he doesn’t know when he can come home—and he doesn’t want me to go out there because of the unrest in that area at the moment. And…well, there is something more…’
Her voice trailed off and Corey put her hand sympathetically on Frankie’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Frankie. Here am I, rabbiting on about my ghastly evening and you’ve got worries of your own. You must be fed up.’
Frankie pushed the letter towards Corey. ‘Read the last part,’ she said. ‘It was quite a shock I can tell you.’
‘Not before I get us both a drink,’ declared her friend, jumping up from the bench. ‘I have a feeling it’s bad news and after the day we’ve had in A and E we need a pick-me-up—preferably alcoholic!’
She pushed her way through the crowded bar and Frankie leant back on her seat and closed her eyes for a second, propping her tired legs up on the table crossbar to relieve the pressure on her feet. It had been a long day in Casualty and she wasn’t at all sure that coming to the crowded smoky atmosphere of the Drover’s Arms had been the best idea, especially after reading Damian’s letter. Perhaps the full import of it hadn’t hit her yet because she felt rather numb, detached almost from what Damian had said.
Corey returned with two white wine spritzers and looked at Frankie’s pale face and the dark rings under her eyes. ‘You look knackered Frankie—have a swig of this,’ she declared, handing over the drink.
‘I do feel shattered,’ admitted Frankie. ‘But you must be as well—we were run off our feet after dealing with that multiple RTA this afternoon. We’re so short-staffed at the moment, especially now Larry Higson’s left.’
‘Yeah, it’s a shame about Larry taking off. It can’t be much fun for you, being the only registrar on the unit sometimes. Anyway, help is at hand—someone’s coming in his place tomorrow. I met him at lunchtime.’
Frankie raised her brows. ‘I’m glad to hear that,