A Man of Honour

‘We’ve got the army already,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Ah, Tom, well done. Help yourself to a drink.’

He pulled the ring on a can of beer and propped his hips against the worktop beside Helen, but Ross didn’t let him linger.

‘Go and enjoy yourselves,’ they were told. ‘Here, give that to Helen to carry and take this lot down to the barbecue on your way—oh, and could you tell Lizzi I could do with a hand with the salad?’

They found his wife sitting on the grass with her sleepy daughter on her lap, talking to Bron Henderson and Clare Barrington, both obviously pregnant.

Helen introduced them to Tom and gave Lizzi Ross’s message, then Tom escaped to put the food down and talk to Oliver while Helen chatted to Bron and Clare.

‘Lizzi looks tired,’ Helen said thoughtfully, watching her as she made her way slowly up the steps.

‘She is—this pregnancy’s making her feel very sick and I think Sarah’s giving them the run-around at night,’ Bron commented with a wry laugh. ‘Dear God, do I know the feeling! Jamie’s being a holy terror at the moment, and heaven knows what it’ll be like when this one comes along. Still, Liwy will be at school in September so it won’t be so bad then.’

Helen grinned at Clare. ‘Just think, you’ve got all this to look forward to!’

Clare chuckled. ‘Yes, there are times when I think even sailing the Atlantic again couldn’t be as bad as motherhood! Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

She looked across the pool to where Michael was standing talking to Oliver and Tom, and the loving expression on her face brought a lump to Helen’s throat. How wonderful it must be to feel like that for someone and know it was returned, she thought wistfully, and found her eyes drawn to Tom.

He was laughing with the others, but at that moment he turned his head and caught her eye, and her heart turned over.

‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’

Helen turned back to Clare. ‘Hmm?’

‘Tom—he’s gorgeous—if you like dark-haired men, which of course I don’t!’

The girls all laughed, and Helen found her eyes drawn back to Tom again. Yes, he was gorgeous, but there was something else, some deeper quality that drew her against her better judgement.

She had found herself overpoweringly aware of him all week, almost to the point of being unable to concentrate on her job on occasions, and yet he had given her no hint that he returned her interest.

She sighed softly and turned back to the others, determined to ignore Tom and get him out of her system.

‘Sold the cottage yet?’ Bron was asking, but Clare shook her head.

‘No—we haven’t really had time to think about it. Michael only started at Ipswich last weekend, and we’ve been too busy sorting things out to worry about putting it on the market. I suppose I’d better do that next week.’

Helen’s interest was immediately caught. ‘Look, I’ve got an idea. Tom’s looking for a place, and I know he wants something old. Why don’t you ask him if he’d like to see it?’

Clare looked across at him. ‘Do you think he’d be interested?’

Helen shrugged. ‘Might be. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.’ Clare waved them over, and the three men strolled across.

‘What’s with the royal summons? Drinks run out or something?’ Michael asked as they approached.

‘No, no—Tom! Helen says you’re looking for a house, and we’ve got a cottage to sell. It’s only tiny, so it wouldn’t be any use if you’ve got a wife and six children tucked away somewhere, but it is quite lovely, miles from anywhere and beautifully done up —’

‘This is the soft sell, you notice,’ Michael interrupted, and Clare blushed and giggled.

‘Well, you know what I mean. It is lovely, Michael. I shall miss it.’

‘No, you won’t. My grandfather won’t give you time to miss it, and once the bump comes along you certainly won’t have time to mope. Anyway, Tom, as she says, the cottage isn’t big, but you’re more than welcome to have a look if you want.’

Tom nodded. ‘Please. It sounds wonderful, and size isn’t a problem, I’m on my own. When can I look at it?’

Clare and Michael exchanged glances. ‘Tomorrow morning?’

‘Fine. Can you give me directions?’

Helen saw Clare glance at her, then back to Tom. ‘Why don’t you get Helen to come with you? She knows the way, and it’s a bit tricky to find the first time.’

‘Helen?’

She met his eyes and shrugged. ‘Fine. No problem.’

‘Ten o’clock at the cottage?’

They all agreed, and then the conversation moved on, leaving Helen free to absorb Tom’s admission that he was on his own. That didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in her, of course, but it did mean he was free to pursue her if he wanted to. She would just have to wait and see if he did want to.

Lizzi joined them, followed by a trail of tiny children, with Ross bringing up the rear.

‘It’s like the National Childbirth Trust round here. Hoo-hoo-haaaah,’ he huffed, and they all chuckled.

Tom looked quizzically at Helen.

‘Breathing exercises for labour,’ she told him, and he nodded blankly.

Ross chuckled. ‘Not quite in your league, is it?’ he said. ‘Go and help yourselves to food—there’s a stack of cooked bits and pieces, rolls, salad, et cetera. Eat plenty, for God’s sake. There’s always masses left over.’

Tom pulled Helen to her feet and they wandered over to the groaning table beside the barbecue.

‘Oh, terrific—I’m starving!’ Tom confessed, and after they piled their plates up he led Helen away down the garden to a little orchard at the end. Then he lowered himself to the grass under the trees and patted the ground. ‘Sit down and tell me all about the Barringtons’ cottage.’

She settled herself beside him, taking a bite of her burger to distract herself from the sight of his hair-roughened thigh only inches from her knees. ‘Well, it’s called Rose Cottage, and it’s got roses climbing up it and a thatched roof and little latticed windows, and it’s absolutely enchanting. If I could afford to, I’d buy it, but I just don’t earn enough.’

‘Not fair, is it?’ Tom said quietly. ‘You work hard enough, God knows. It’s lovely to see you relaxing; you’ve been rushing about all week. Every time I’ve seen you you’ve been either bent over a patient or buried under a mountain of paperwork.’

She sighed. ‘Well, it’s been a bit hectic. You’ve been busy too.’

‘Mmm. Still, I’ve enjoyed it. Thanks for all the help.’

She turned her head slightly and looked at him. ‘You’re welcome.’

His eyes locked with hers, and for an endless moment they stared at each other, then he turned away and bit into his roll, and she found she could breathe again.

They ate in silence for a while, then Helen put her plate down and lay back on the sweetly scented grass.

‘Oh, heaven. I think I’ve eaten too much.’