Second Chance With The Single Mum

Can their unexpected reunion...

...become a longed-for family?

In this London Heroes story, Dr. Alistair Duvall’s stunned when ex-wife Raina Elliot walks back into his life, needing help for her daughter, who has an amputation. After the heartbreak of losing their own baby, Alistair’s not prepared for the adorable little girl to capture his heart. And seeing Raina again rekindles a spark that never quite died... Can Raina convince him he can be the husband and father he wants to be?

Cursed with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. A degree in English Literature followed by a career in computing didn’t lead directly to her perfect job—writing romance for Mills & Boon—but she has no regrets in taking the scenic route. She lives in London: a city where getting lost can be a joy.

Also by Annie Claydon

Saving Baby Amy

Forbidden Night with the Duke

Healed by the Single Dad Doc

From Doctor to Princess?

Firefighter’s Christmas Baby

Resisting Her English Doc

London Heroes miniseries

Falling for Her Italian Billionaire

Second Chance with the Single Mum

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Second Chance with the Single Mum

Annie Claydon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09000-1

SECOND CHANCE WITH THE SINGLE MUM

© 2019 Annie Claydon

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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To Joan, with love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

THE BENCH WAS shaded by trees, making it a pleasant place to sit on this hot summer’s day. Raina Eliott was feeling anything but comfortable.

She could see the doorway of The Watchlight Trust’s headquarters from her vantage point in the small leafy square, surrounded by three-storey Georgian houses, most of which had been converted to offices. She’d been watching it for the last hour, trying to pluck up the courage to go inside.

Asking a charity for help wasn’t so difficult, was it? Nice people worked for charities. People who understood. But when one of those nice people who understood happened to be your ex-husband, everything became so much more complicated.

If she’d been asking for herself then it would have been simple. Raina would have hesitated at the door, and then walked away. But she’d promised to do her best for Anya, and at the moment, The Watchlight Trust wasn’t just the best option, it was about the only option.

‘Call yourself a mother?’ She muttered the words to herself. Calling herself a mother was about the only good thing that had happened in the last few years, and was usually accompanied by a tingle of pleasure and the temptation to gather Anya up in her arms and hug her tight. And if she did call herself a mother then she had to do anything for her child, however difficult it was. She’d completed the charity’s application form, and added all the supporting documents. Delivering them was just a matter of dropping them off at the reception desk.

She pulled the large manila envelope from her bag, staring at the address she’d written.

Alistair Duvall, Director

The Watchlight Trust

That was the stumbling block. Should she ask to speak to Alistair, to explain? And what exactly was there to explain? That she wouldn’t have got back in touch with him after five years if it hadn’t been for Anya? That she hoped he’d put their shared history out of his mind?

‘Do it. Just deliver the envelope.’ It wouldn’t make any difference whether she spoke to Alistair or not, he’d know who she was as soon as he read the application. If he had a problem with working with his ex-wife then he’d just reject it.

Raina got to her feet, catching her breath as the door of The Watchlight Trust’s offices opened. Two women appeared, stopping on the steps to talk to the man behind them. Alistair.

Still as handsome. Dark blond hair, cut a little shorter now and it suited him. He was smiling, and Raina imagined that the quiet warmth in his golden eyes was still there. His shirt was open at the neck, the sleeves rolled up, and just the sight of him made her feel as if her heart had stopped.

Alistair had followed the women down the steps, still talking, and they’d parted on the pavement. He looked at his watch and then made his way in the opposite direction. Maybe her heart had stopped, because Raina stumbled, zombie-like and unthinking, across the road towards him.

‘Alistair...’ His name caught in her throat and he kept walking. One more try...

She caught up with him, brushing his arm with her fingers. Alistair turned and she saw shock contort his face.

‘Raina?’ The idea that he would feel nothing at seeing her again was now impossible. He was staring at her, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

Raina swallowed hard. ‘Alistair... I’m on my way to deliver something to you...’

Raina didn’t blame him for looking at the envelope with mistrust. The last envelope she’d sent him had been their divorce papers. There was nothing for it but to grasp the nettle, however much it stung.

‘I... It’s an application form. I have a daughter, Anya, and I want to apply to have her included on the prosthetics project that you’re running with The Watchlight Trust. If you can forgive me enough to look at it, that is...’ Suddenly it seemed more than she had any right to ask.

‘I should be the one asking for your forgiveness.’ He was looking at her thoughtfully.

‘I don’t think that’s true.’ She shivered in the heat of the sun. Alistair might not want to talk about it, but neither of them could deny that she was the one who’d walked out on him.

Suddenly he came to his senses. This was the Alistair she knew, a man who could make the right decision in a moment, and would always use his humanity in doing so.

‘If your daughter needs us, then we’re here for her, Raina. Nothing else matters.’

‘Thank you. Anya’s three years old, she’ll be four soon and...’ Raina saw a pulse begin to beat at the side of Alistair’s eye. The maths wasn’t difficult, and Anya had been conceived just months after their divorce.

Raina took a breath. She needed to start at the beginning, however much that beginning hurt. ‘She’s Andrew and Theresa’s child. They were killed in the same road accident where Anya lost her left hand and part of her forearm. I’ve adopted her.’

Alistair’s eyes flared with shock and then softened again. ‘I’m so sorry, Raina. I liked your brother and his wife very much, they were good people.’

‘I...should have let you know...about the accident. I’m sorry...’

‘You had more than enough to deal with. Don’t give it another thought.’

Raina was trembling so much that all she could do was to hold out the envelope, hoping that Alistair would take it. He looked at his watch again, as if maybe that would tell him something, and gave her a tight smile.

‘Look, I’ve just got out of a long meeting, and I was about to pick up a sandwich. Why don’t you walk with me? I’d like to hear a bit more about Anya and what you feel she needs from us. Then give me that.’ He gestured towards the envelope.

‘Yes. Thank you, Alistair.’ Raina stuffed the envelope back into her bag, and he began to walk towards the coffee shop at the far corner of the square.

Alistair must need to gather his thoughts as well. She had presented him with one shock after another, and it was hardly fair. He was silent, clearly dealing with it all in the way that Alistair always dealt with things. Quiet, measured and uncommunicative.

He held the door of the coffee shop open for her, and the coolness of the air-conditioning made her shiver. Sitting on a park bench and drinking takeaway coffee for an hour was catching up on her, and Raina excused herself, making a welcome dash for the ladies’ room.

‘That’s the worst of it over...’ She whispered the words as confidently as she could, trying to persuade her own reflection in the mirror over the basin. But the reflection was having none of it and Raina couldn’t help but agree. Something told her that she hadn’t even scratched the surface yet.

The divorce had been bitter. Raina’s pregnancy had been unexpected, and her own joy had blinded her to Alistair’s concerns about whether they were ready, and how they would manage financially. Then sudden pain had turned into the nightmare of discovering that the pregnancy was ectopic and the baby couldn’t be saved. Alistair had retreated into himself, showing only concern for Raina and hardly mentioning their lost child. The suspicion that he might think, deep down, that this was all for the best had poisoned everything, and as she’d recovered her strength, Raina had raged at him, venting her own pain.

It was only after she’d left him that Raina had found out about the infection. It had meant that one of her fallopian tubes had had to be removed, and since the other was partially blocked, she’d be unlikely to ever conceive again. And now she had to go out there and persuade Alistair that she could work with him, and he should give Anya the chance she so badly needed. Raina splashed cool water onto her cheeks, dabbing them dry with a tissue from her bag.

She’d thought that Alistair might spend the time choosing a sandwich, but instead he was holding two cups of takeaway coffee. Putting one into her hand, he gestured towards the door.

‘Would you mind if we walked? I’ve been shut up inside all morning...’

‘Walking would be nice.’ At least it would give her something to do with her feet. And the coffee would give her something to do with her hands. All she needed to worry about now was her tongue. She took a sip of the coffee. Plenty of frothed milk and a little sugar. It should be no surprise that Alistair remembered the way she liked it, but still it was a shock, reminding Raina of the scale of the task she’d taken on. Being with Alistair would be an exercise in remembering all the things she’d tried so hard to forget.

* * *

Alistair had almost jumped out of his skin when he’d seen Raina. How many times had he thought he’d glimpsed her in a crowd, and then looked again to find it wasn’t her? But this was no ghost.

Alistair guessed that if she’d had any options that didn’t involve him, she would have taken them. He should remember that. Despite her obvious agitation, she looked well. When he’d last seen her she’d had rings of fatigue under her eyes, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. But now she was more the way he’d first seen her, a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty who’d taken his breath away. Divorce clearly suited her.

It was a bitter thought. It knocked him off balance even more than the music in the coffee shop, which rendered him almost completely deaf and had changed his mind about sitting down to talk. He needed to be able to hear everything that Raina was saying.

The pavement was only a little better, but if they avoided the main roads, the traffic noise wouldn’t be too distracting. If he stayed on her left side, then his ‘good’ ear could catch most of what she said.

‘You’ve read about the project on our website?’ Of course she had. Raina was nothing if not thorough.

She nodded a yes, maybe voicing it too, and Alistair slowed his pace to a stroll. Watching the words form on her lips would help fill in the gaps in his hearing.

‘Then you’ll know that this project marks the start of a new and important expansion in the activities of The Watchlight Trust. Up till now, our primary focus has been on helping people in the accident and rescue services, but we’ve always known that many of the techniques we use have a much wider application. My co-director, Gabriel DeMarco, and I have been working towards realising that potential for some time now.’

He was practically quoting from the website, and she’d read that already. But in a world that had suddenly turned upside down he might be forgiven for finding a few solid facts reassuring.

‘Our development team is currently housed in our offices, and we have medical services based at our own clinic next door. Our long-term aim is to create a separate division of the charity, whose remit is to explore innovative technologies and make them available to patients.’

‘It’s a bold step. And one that will benefit a lot of people.’

Alistair had thought so too. And then sudden hearing loss had turned his working day into a miasma of half-heard sentences, a constant struggle to keep up. Gabriel had done his best to help, but it had only made Alistair feel even more useless, relegated to standing by and watching while others made the bold steps that it took to realise the project that meant so much to him.

But now he had a purpose. Raina was unaware of the nature of the challenge she’d thrown at him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t rise to it and find a way to help her.

‘We’re still refining our product and procedures, and we’re hoping to be able to learn with the parents and children we select for the pilot project.’

‘I’d welcome the chance to learn, and to contribute as much as I’m able as well.’

Staring at her lips had its disadvantages. He could make out what she was saying better, but it reminded Alistair of all the other times he’d studied her face. Locked in each other’s arms, immersed in each other...

Enough! There was no going back, and the present was more than enough to deal with. Alistair forced his thoughts back to the child. She was what mattered.

‘Has your daughter been fitted with a prosthetic yet?’

‘Yes, six months ago. It took some time for it to be made, and the first one she was given didn’t fit properly, so we had to wait again for it to be adjusted. By the time we did get it right, Anya was determined she didn’t want it, however much we tried to encourage her. 3D printing is a much faster and more flexible process and I think it may be more appropriate for Anya’s needs.’

‘So tell me why you think she should have one.’ Alistair stopped walking, facing her so that he could concentrate on Raina’s answer. It was the question he’d asked every parent and he’d received a variety of replies.

Raina smiled, suddenly sure of herself. ‘I don’t think she should do anything. I want her to have a choice about if and when she uses a prosthetic, and she won’t have that choice unless she learns what she can do with one. She’s starting to reach out into the world, and I want her to know about the different options she has.’

Raina pressed her lips together, tilting her jaw slightly. The look was so familiar to him that Alistair had to swallow a smile. Raina had made up her mind, and she was challenging him to disagree, but what she wanted for her daughter was exactly in line with his own thinking.

‘That’s our approach too. We believe that the speed and low cost of 3D pr0.inting can help us address some of the issues involved with children who have previously rejected prosthetics, but we’re not limiting our expectations to any one outcome.’

‘Neither am I. I just want...’ A car roared past, drowning out the rest of the sentence.

‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you.’

‘I want Anya to be happy and fulfilled. That’s the only expectation I’m not giving up on.’

He should have known that, without having to ask. Raina was a good doctor, and she never gave up on anyone. How could she be expected to give up on her own daughter?

Alistair started to walk again, and their route took them onto the main road, which ran along the bank of the Thames. He motioned Raina towards the crossing, noticing that her lips were moving and wondering if she was saying anything of any importance. He decided not to ask. He’d save the I didn’t hear for when he knew it was needed.

The wide pavement on the other side of the road was bordered by the river, and Alistair looked for a quiet place that they might sit. His head was buzzing, and he’d made his way towards a bench, standing in the shadow of Cleopatra’s Needle, before he realised where they were.

‘I have half an hour. Can you meet me on the bench by the river?’

One or the other of them had brought coffee then, too. They had been young doctors working long shifts and they’d needed the caffeine and the fresh air almost as much as they’d needed the love that had been in each other’s eyes.

It was too late to move now. Raina had sat down next to him, sipping the last dregs of her coffee. He shifted around on the bench so that he was facing her.

‘We’re hoping to involve parents very closely in this project. Would that be a problem for you time-wise?’

Raina shook her head. ‘I’ve taken a few years off work to care for Anya. She’s my only priority, and I can spend as much time as it takes to make this a success.’

She’d had such a promising career, and Raina had put that all on hold. It didn’t much surprise Alistair, but he felt shamed by it. He wondered whether he would have thought twice about doing the same.

‘Can you tell me a little about your daughter?’

‘Well, as I said, Anya’s three years old. And she’s beautiful...’ Raina smiled suddenly. ‘She’s becoming so curious about the world. Look...’

She took her phone from her pocket, flipping through photos. Alistair was about to tell her that he didn’t need to see photographs when Raina held out the phone.

A little girl, with dark curls and brown eyes, smiling gleefully as she inspected sea shells on a beach. She was so like Raina that it almost hurt to look, but in that moment he knew that if things had been different, and this had been his and Raina’s child, he would have given up everything for the little girl as well.

The temptation to tell her right now that she and her daughter had a place on the pilot scheme almost overwhelmed him. But there was a process, and all applications had to go through the assessment procedures.

‘And you’ve completed your application?’

‘Yes, and all the supporting documents are there too. I’ve spoken with Anya’s consultant about it, and he thinks that it’s a way forward for her. The kind of prosthetics you’re producing aren’t widely available yet and when I showed him your website he agreed that The Watchlight Trust’s patient-led approach made your scheme a very good option for Anya.’

She pulled the large manila envelope with his name on it out of her bag, opening it and taking out a folder and handing it to him. The application was neatly bound together with typed pages, which no doubt gave all the details about her daughter’s injury and her medical needs. But the front page gave little doubt about what Raina thought was most important. This photograph showed the little girl with crayons and a drawing pad. Raina’s whole focus was on what she could do, and her potential to do more.

Suddenly he realised that Raina had been speaking...

‘Sorry...what was that?’ It was tempting to just smile and nod when he didn’t hear something, and ninety per cent of the time that worked well. But the other ten per cent of the time it wasn’t what people were looking for in an answer.

‘I just said...that I want to thank you. For talking to me about Anya.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He went back to flipping through the papers. He’d learned that most people responded well when he told them about his deafness, but something stopped him this time. Maybe Raina’s attitude, so positive despite all she’d been through. His own problems didn’t matter.

He went to look up at her and jumped suddenly as he heard the sound of rushing water coming from the road behind him. Before he knew what he was doing he stretched out his hand to shield Raina.

Then he realised that the sound was coming from the river. Staring at it, trying to marry the sound with what he saw, he jumped again as he felt Raina touch his arm lightly.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah... I should be getting back to the office, though.’ He didn’t have that much to do there, and a small voice at the back of his head was telling him that this wasn’t the first time he’d retreated into his work to avoid a difficult conversation with Raina. Alistair dismissed it, taking one last swig from his coffee cup.