A Mother's Secret

The little girl waved her hand. ‘Come and see my new room, it’s beautiful.’

Gemma tucked her hair behind her ears and thrust the pile of clothes she had in her hands towards him. Her embarrassment was still apparent, but it was clear she intended to get past it. ‘You might as well make yourself useful. These are Isla’s. Just hang them up in her cupboard.’

For a second he was stunned. Then a smile crept across his face. It wasn’t any more presumptuous than he’d just been. Maybe he’d just met his female equivalent?

He followed the little red-haired girl into the house and fumbled with her clothes. Most of the hangers had tangled together and some of the dresses landed in a heap at his feet as he tried to slot them in the wooden wardrobe.

‘Careful with this one. It’s my favourite.’

She held up a pale blue dress with some obvious netting underneath. A little-girl princess-style dress. The kind of thing his sister would love.

He took the dress and carefully put it on a hanger. ‘There we go. Do you want to hang it up yourself?’

She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her. ‘No. Mum says that’s your job.’ Like mother, like daughter.

‘How old are you, Isla? It is Isla, isn’t it?’

She smiled. One of her front teeth was missing. ‘I’m five. I’ll be going to the big school after the summer.’

He nodded. ‘There’s a lovely primary school just around the corner. I’ll show you it later if you like.’ He pointed to her tooth. ‘Did the tooth fairy come?’

She rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. ‘No, silly. The tooth fairy only comes if a tooth falls out by itself.’

He straightened his back. ‘Why, what happened to yours?’

She sighed. She’d gone back to her dolls and had obviously lost interest in him now. ‘I got it knocked out when I was playing football.’

He blinked. So the little curly-haired redhead who liked princess dresses was actually a tomboy?

Gemma appeared at the door with another pile of clothes, which she started automatically hanging in the wardrobe. ‘I can see Isla’s entertaining you with her terrifying tales.’

Logan gave a slow nod. ‘Football?’

Gemma nodded. ‘Football. Is there a team she can join?’

‘At five?’

‘Yes. She was in a mixed team back in Glasgow. They played in a mini-league.’

Logan leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘I think the primary school has a football team, but I’m sure it’s the primary six and sevens. We can ask at the surgery, someone is bound to know.’

Gemma finished hanging her clothes and turned around. ‘I’m not really sure what you’re doing here, Logan. I certainly won’t be ready to start work for a while. Look around. My contractor hasn’t appeared and one of the windows is broken.’ She ran her hand through her tangled hair. ‘And I have no idea where to start with that one. The estate agent isn’t even answering her phone.’

Logan glanced at his watch. ‘That’s because it’s a Thursday and it’s two o’clock. Nancy Connelly will be getting her hair done.’

Gemma’s chin almost bounced off the floor. What did she expect? Logan had spent most of his life on this island and could tell her the ins, outs and daily habits of just about everyone.

She started shaking her head. ‘Well, that’s not much use to me, is it? I would have thought she would have the courtesy to call me and let me know that my property had been damaged. I’m going to have to find out who can do replacement windows around here, and then I’m obviously going to have to find an alternative contractor since the one I’ve paid hasn’t done his job.’

It sounded like the start of a rant. No, maybe that was unfair. She’d just arrived on a strange island with her little girl and probably wanted to get settled in straight away. At least she’d planned ahead. Her cottage was supposed to be ready just to walk into, and the reality was she wasn’t supposed to start at the GP surgery for another few weeks. He was going to have to appeal to her better nature—and just hope that she had one.

He put up his hands. ‘Whoa. I’m sorry. I should have got to the point but you’re a bit like a whirlwind around here. Harry Burns was your contractor. The reason the work hasn’t been started is because Harry had an MI last week—just after he’d delivered your paint to start decorating. The reason the window is broken is because he was up on a ladder, cleaning out your guttering, when he fell off.’

Gemma put her hand up to her mouth. ‘He had a heart attack here? At my house? And why on earth was he cleaning my guttering?’

Logan shrugged. ‘Because that’s just Harry. He saw it needed doing, and thought he would help out. He was lucky. He usually works by himself, but his fourteen-year-old grandson was with him that day. He called us and we were lucky enough to get him to the hospital in time.’

Gemma took a deep breath. ‘Do you have facilities for things like that? I thought most of the emergency stuff had to go to the mainland?’

Logan picked his words carefully. He didn’t want to vent his frustration on their new doctor. It often took newcomers a while to adjust to what could and couldn’t be done on a small island. ‘We can treat MIs with rtPA—the same as they would get in a coronary care unit. What we can’t do is an immediate angioplasty to find the problem. So we treat the clot, ensure they’re stable then transfer them to the mainland for further treatment.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Your new window should be on the two o’clock ferry. We ordered it last week and they said they would supply and fit it today.’

There it was. A little colour appearing in her cheeks. She blushed easily—obviously embarrassed about her earlier almost-rant of frustration.

‘Oh, I see. Thank you.’

Logan knew he should probably stop there. But he couldn’t. He cared about the people on this island. ‘Do you have to have the work done straight away? Can you wait a while? Harry is already upset about the window. If he hadn’t had a heart attack I can guarantee the job would have been done perfectly for your arrival.’

Gemma looked around her. Isla seemed oblivious to the décor. The walls were marked here and there, with the odd little dent in the plasterwork—all things that Harry had been paid to fix. Did it really matter if she had to wait a few weeks for the house to be painted, and for her feature wall to be papered in the living room? Who else was going to see the house but her and Isla?

In an ideal world, her room would have been painted before she laid the new carpet, but she wasn’t prepared to wait. Which was just as well as the men were almost finished. They were poised outside, waiting to try and fit her sofa through the window.

She placed her hands on her hips as she took a few steps down the corridor. The place really wasn’t too bad. It just needed freshening up. ‘I suppose it’s not the end of the world to wait a few weeks. I guess Harry will need around six weeks to make a full recovery. But I don’t want him to be pressured into working before he’s ready. Maybe it would be less pressure on him if he knew someone else had done the job?’

He understood her reasoning. It was rational. It was also considerate. But this woman had obviously never met Harry Burns.

He shook his head; he couldn’t help a smile appearing on his face. ‘Actually, if I tell Harry someone else is doing it, his blood pressure will probably go through the roof and he’ll have another heart attack.’

She smiled. A genuine smile that reached right up into her warm brown eyes. ‘Well, I guess that would never do, then, would it?’

He shook his head. She was mellowing. She seemed a little calmer. But then again, she’d just moved house—one of the most stressful things to do. That, along with the fact she was about to start a new job, meant her own blood pressure was probably through the roof. He was leaving out the most obvious fact. The one that it seemed highly likely she was a single parent.

There was no sign of any man. And all the clothes packed into the back of the little red car were obviously hers and her daughter’s.

His curiosity was definitely piqued. But he couldn’t show it—not for a second. On an island like Arran they’d have him huckled up the aisle in the blink of an eye and all his mother’s cronies would have their knitting needles out and asking about babies.

‘About work...’ he started. That was better. That was the reason he was here.

‘What about it?’ she said absentmindedly, as she opened a drawer and started emptying a bag of little-girl underwear into it. ‘I think I’m supposed to meet Sam Allan next Tuesday. He’s the head of the practice, isn’t he?’

‘Normally, he is.’ Logan chose his words carefully and let the statement sink in.

Her eyes widened and she turned around. ‘Oh, no, what are you about to tell me?’ He could tell from the tone of her voice that she knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

‘About Sam...’

‘What about Sam, Dr Scott?’ She folded her arms across her chest.

He almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. Did she have any idea how identical her daughter was to her? Even though the hair and eye colour was obviously different, their expressions and mannerisms were like mirror images of each other.

‘I think you should start calling me Logan. We’ll be working together enough.’

He could see her take a deep breath. He liked this woman. And as soon as he had a minute he was going to go back to the surgery and read her résumé. He could only hope that her paediatric skills would be transferable to their GP practice.

‘Sam Allan managed to fall down Goat Fell earlier today. It’s about the hundredth time in his life, but this time he’s been a little unlucky.’

Her eyes narrowed. Goat Fell was the highest peak on the island. ‘How unlucky?’

‘Unlucky enough to break his leg.’ He couldn’t keep the sound of regret from his voice. Sam Allan was one of his greatest friends. ‘Sam’s problem is he’s nearly seventy but thinks he’s still around the age of seventeen.’

Her words were careful, measured. ‘Then, Logan, I guess it will be you I’ll be meeting next Tuesday instead.’

Logan scratched his chin. Stubble. He still hadn’t had time to shave. That must be around two days now. He must look a sight. Time for the bombshell.

‘Actually, I was kind of hoping you could start now.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU ARE JOKING, right?’

He shook his head and lifted his hands. ‘Nothing like the present time to get started.’

She looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘Look around you, Logan. Do I look like I’m ready to do any kind of GP surgery right now?’ She pointed at the cottage. ‘I haven’t unpacked a thing. My removals men are still here. I’ve got a broken window. And I haven’t even started to look for childcare for Isla.’ Her hand lifted up to her face. ‘Oh, no.’

‘What?’

‘Sam Allan was going to put me in touch with some people who might have been able to help with Isla. He’s not going to be able to do that now.’

Logan felt a little twist in his gut. He could picture in his head exactly who Sam might have had in mind. And he wished he’d talked to him about it first.

Logan’s mum was as desperate to be a grandparent as his sister was desperate to be a mother. He didn’t have a single doubt that Sam would have volunteered her as a surrogate granny for Isla.

And, after having met Isla, he knew instantly they would be a perfect match. His mother would love the little girl who had an old head on her shoulders. And Isla would love the fact that she could have his mother’s undivided attention.

So, why did it make him squirm a little?

His mother had been lonely these last few years. The unexpected death of his father ten years ago had been a bombshell for them all. One moment playing golf on a summer’s day, next moment an aortic aneurysm had killed him instantly. Logan had just completed his first year as a junior doctor and taken up a post in a medical unit in Glasgow. Guilt had plagued him.

If only he’d come home the week before, the way he’d been supposed to. Maybe he would have noticed some minor symptoms that could have alerted him to his father’s condition. The looks on the faces of his mother and sister as they’d met him from the boat would stay with him for ever. He hadn’t been there when his family had needed him most.

He’d always put his dad on a pedestal, and even to this day he still missed him. He’d been a fantastic father. Smart, encouraging, with a big heart and an even bigger sense of humour. Filling his shoes as the island GP had been a daunting task. Even now, some of the older patients referred to him as ‘young Dr Scott’.

His mother had probably always imagined she would have a house full of grandchildren at this point. Something to fill her days, keep her busy and keep her young.

But things just hadn’t worked out that way for Claire, or for him.

He’d been an ‘almost’. He’d seriously dated a woman with a gorgeous little boy for six months a few years back. All his fears about doing as good a job as his dad and having enough hours in the day had almost been pushed aside. Until Zoe had decided island life wasn’t for her and she was leaving. Saying goodbye to little Ben had ripped his heart out. And he’d never dated a woman with children since.

Too difficult. Too many risks.

At least with introducing Isla it would take the pressure off him for a while. And it might even take the pressure off his sister Claire. Seven failed IVF attempts had just about finished her, and now the strain of the adoption process wasn’t helping.

It should be a perfect solution all round. Only it just didn’t feel that way.

He took a deep, reluctant breath. ‘Don’t panic. I think I might know who Sam was going to recommend.’

‘Who? Is it someone reliable? Someone safe? I can’t just leave my daughter with a perfect stranger. And I’m not sure how quickly I’d want to do it anyway. I was only supposed to be working one day in the surgery. We should have some time to settle in together. Have some time to meet the person and make sure I think they are suitable. Will I get references for childcare?’

She was rattling on. It seemed to be her thing. Whenever she got anxious, she just started to talk incessantly.

He put up his hand and tried to stop the smile appearing on his face. ‘Oh, you’re safe. I think I can give her a reference—it’s my mother.’

She stopped. ‘Your mother?’

He nodded.

‘Oh.’ First time he’d seen Gemma stunned into silence.

‘Well, I guess that will be okay, then. Providing, of course, she’s happy to do it—and Isla likes her, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Isla likes who?’

Isla had appeared next to them.

Logan knelt down. ‘My mum. She’s going to be your new surrogate granny. If you like her, that is. It means your mum will be able to work in the surgery for a while.’

It was the strangest thing. The little girl opened her mouth to say something and, from the corner of his eye, he could see Gemma shake her head. ‘We’ll talk about it later. Go inside, Isla.’

Logan straightened up and stretched his back with a loud clicking sound. What was going on?

‘Eurgh!’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Orthopaedics not your thing?’ He gave his back a shake. ‘What can I say? Years of abuse from sailing.’

‘You sail?’

‘Just about everyone on Arran sails. That’s the thing about staying on an island.’

She looked out over the water. ‘I suppose. Listen, about starting right away. I only agreed to do one day a week. I don’t know how much help I’ll actually be to you.’

He nodded. ‘I know. When are you supposed to start your paediatric hours?’

‘The week after next. I’d timed it so we would have a little time to settle in and sort out childcare and things.’

He could hear the tone in her voice. The gentle implication that she really didn’t want to do this. She wanted time to settle herself and her daughter. But he was desperate. The surgery was currently bursting at the seams. And would be for the next few weeks—there was no way a replacement GP could be found on an island like Arran.

He scratched his chin. ‘We might be able to rearrange things. The health board are used to there being issues on Arran—and looking at flexible options. How would you feel about deferring your start date for the paediatric work? Sam will be off for at least six weeks. It would give us a little more leeway.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘I get the impression you’re not really listening to me, Logan. Don’t you know how to take no for an answer?’

He tried not to laugh out loud. ‘Only in personal circumstances. Never in professional.’

She gave a little sigh and held up her hand. ‘If, and only if, I like your mother and Isla likes her, I’ll agree to help you out. But not today, definitely not today.’

‘Tomorrow afternoon? That surgery is a stinker.’

He was chancing his luck, but it was the only way to survive in these parts.

‘You make it sound so appealing.’

‘Oh, go on. You know you want to.’

‘What about the health board stuff?’

He waved his hand. ‘I’ll sort that. You’ll cover until Sam comes back?’

She nodded. ‘Four weeks only. Three days a week. I need to start my paediatric hours soon or they’ll forget why they employed me.’ It was almost as if she were drawing a line in the sand.

‘And a few on-calls for the hospital?’

A soft pink teddy bounced off his head. ‘Only if there’s absolutely nobody—and I mean nobody—else that can do it. I’d need to wake up Isla and bring her in the car.’

‘Understood.’ He held out his hand towards his latest lifesaver.

‘Welcome to Arran, Dr Halliday.’

* * *

Gemma opened her eyes. Curtain poles were going to be an issue. It was only five-thirty and sunshine was streaming through her bedroom window. She made a mental note. First thing, see if anywhere on the island sells curtain poles.

She rolled over in her bed and tried to stifle a groan. Second thing. Don’t let perfect strangers steamroller you into starting work early.

She should be having a leisurely day with Isla, sipping tea and sorting out some boxes. Instead, she’d be introducing her daughter to a potential babysitter and getting a guided tour of the local Angel Grace Hospital and GP surgery. She must be mad.

‘Mummy, are we getting up now?’

She smiled. Isla seemed to have an internal radar and knew whenever her mother’s eyes flickered open. Gemma pulled back the cover and swung her legs out of bed. ‘Tea and toast?’

‘Tea and toast,’ Isla said, in her most grown-up voice.

* * *

Three hours later they were standing in front of a cottage with pretty flowered curtains. The blue front door opened and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist stuck her head outside. ‘You must be Isla,’ she said immediately. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I was just about to start some baking. Would you like to help me?’

There was the quick nod of a little head and Gemma was summarily dismissed. Moments later Isla was standing on a wooden chair at the kitchen sink, washing her hands, a little girl’s pink apron tied around her waist.

Gemma hesitated at the kitchen door. ‘Mary, thank you for this. Are you sure you don’t mind? Would you like me to stay to give you a chance to get to know each other a bit better?’

She’d had a chance to have a long conversation on the phone with Mary Scott last night. Logan had been right. His mother seemed delighted to look after Isla and had asked Gemma about her interests so she could plan ahead.

A floury hand was waved. ‘We’ll be fine. Go on and get to work.’

Gemma grabbed a piece of paper to write down her mobile number. ‘Here’s my number. Call me about anything—anything at all.’

‘We’ll be fine, Mummy. Go and meet Logan. I liked him.’ Gemma felt her face flush, and could see the not-so-hidden smile on Mary’s face. She dreaded to think what was going on in her head. Isla had lifted a glass jar of sultanas and was ready to pour them into Mary’s mixing bowl.

Children were so much more relaxed. So much more at ease than adults. Her stomach had been in a permanent knot since last night at the thought of starting work early and having to meet the rest of her new colleagues. Isla didn’t seem to have any such worries.

Gemma picked up her car keys again. ‘Okay, then.’ She dropped a kiss on Isla’s head. ‘See you later, pumpkin. Be good for Mary and I’ll pick you up in a few hours.’

The surgery was only a five-minute drive away and the hospital five more minutes along the road. If she needed to get there in a hurry, she could.

The practice was buzzing as she entered. Patients were already sitting in the waiting room, with a number queuing at the reception desk. Gemma hesitated and then joined the queue, waiting her turn until she reached the front.

The receptionist, with long brown hair in a ponytail and a badge that read ‘Julie’, gave her a friendly smile. ‘Are you a holidaymaker? Need an emergency appointment?’

‘No, I’m Gemma. Gemma Halliday, the new doctor. I’m supposed to be meeting Logan Scott here today.’

The smile faltered for the briefest second as Gemma felt the young receptionist’s eyes quickly run up and down her body. Should she have dressed more formally? Her pale pink shirt and grey skirt had suited at her last job. Maybe things were a little more formal in Arran?

The girl leaned backwards in her chair. ‘Logan!’ Her shout was like a foghorn. ‘Our new doctor’s arrived. Get out here.’

‘He’ll just be sec,’ she said, as she picked up a pile of patient notes and disappeared through a door behind her.

Gemma turned slowly. She could feel every set of eyes in the room studying her. All potential patients. Giving her the once-over. She took a deep breath and smiled nervously. ‘Hi, there.’ Her normally steady voice came out as a surprising squeak. This would never do.

She jumped as a hand settled in the small of her back. ‘Hi, Gemma.’ Logan’s voice was low, husky. Not what she expected in the middle of busy waiting room. She shifted a little. ‘I take it my mother and Isla are getting along famously?’

She nodded. ‘How did you guess?’

His hand pressed into her back, guiding her away from the watchful eyes in the waiting room and towards one of the consulting rooms. ‘My mother could hardly contain her excitement. She spent most of last night deciding what the two of them could bake together.’

Gemma smiled. ‘Yip, they were both on their way to being covered in flour when I left.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘Doesn’t your mother have any grandchildren of her own.’

Something flitted across his eyes. ‘Not yet.’

What kind of answer was that? She instantly felt uncomfortable for asking the question. She watched as Logan poured coffee into two cups and handed one to her. He must have a wife or a partner and be trying for a family. Her eyes fell to his hand. No ring. But, then, these days that meant nothing. Lots of men didn’t wear rings.

His hand gestured towards the chair opposite his as he took a seat. He gave a professional kind of smile. It seemed it was all business with him here. That cheeky demeanour she’d witnessed the day before didn’t seem to feature.

‘You can see we’re already starting to get busy. This is just the start of the season. Arran’s population doubles in the summer months.’

She nodded. ‘I had heard that.’ She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Did you clear it with the health board about me working here for the next month?’

He gave her a smile as he gritted his teeth apologetically. ‘Six weeks, actually. They agreed you can start your paediatric hours when the school session starts again.’

Her brain started to whirr. This was a new colleague. But he obviously didn’t know her at all. People making assumptions about her made her temper flare. He could have consulted her first.

She took a sip of her coffee and looked at him carefully. Logan Scott was probably used to being a force to be reckoned with. On a small island like this, he probably pretty much got his own way. It was clear to Gemma that at some point they would lock horns.