Free Saving Willowbrook by Anna Jacobs Page A

stay, so I’ll manage. I can take my painting things into the living room while this room is being repaired.’
    â€˜Surely there’s somewhere else you can go? Isn’t your cousin still out at Willowbrook? She’ll have room for you.’
    â€˜I’d rather stay here, where I can walk to my evening work at the pub.’
    She decided to change the subject. ‘Home for a visit?’
    â€˜No, home for a while. Dad’s partner’s resigned and the practice is too big for one person.’
    â€˜You, a GP?’
    He smiled. ‘Why not? A and E training is perfect for the job, and anyway, I need a change.’
    His face took on that shuttered look she’d always hated. Oliver could conceal his feelings better than anyone she’d ever met. She should know. His wooden expression had been much in evidence during the time they were splitting up.
    â€˜If you’re sure you can manage tonight, I’ll come back tomorrow.’
    She watched him walk away, got angry with herself for doing that and slammed the front door shut – which was a waste of time with a gaping hole in the corner of her house.
    She looked round the studio, of which she’d been so proud, and tears welled in her eyes. This was a backward step.
    So was the return of Oliver Paige. It’d taken her years to get him out of her system – and he still crept into her dreams occasionally, damn him! Why did he have to come back to Chawton?
    She couldn’t imagine him as a GP. He definitely didn’t have a bedside manner, or much tolerance of fools. Maybe his return was only temporary until his father found another partner. Maybe he was marking time between jobs.
    She sighed as she started to clear up the mess. Worst of all, Oliver was just as good-looking as ever, damn his baby blue eyes and honey-coloured hair.
    After the meal, Ella and Cameron lingered at the table, sipping her best cooking port in a companionable silence as they watched the moon’s reflection in the lake. The conservatory was shadowed, apart from their small oasis of brightness, and when he went to switch the remaining light off, she made no protest.
    â€˜I often sit here in the dark in the evenings,’ she admitted, her voice quiet, her body still and relaxed.
    â€˜The view is just as beautiful by moonlight as by day. Did you grow up here?’
    â€˜Yes. We Turners have lived here for centuries.’
    She smiled at some memory and Cameron marvelled at how softly tender that smile was. There was something so very attractive about the quiet warmth of her, though she had been magnificent in her anger. She was too thin, though, and her clothes hung rather loosely on her. She looked as if she’d be the better for a good rest. ‘Are your parents still alive?’
    â€˜Dad died a while ago. Mum’s remarried. What about yours?’
    â€˜They’re in Toronto. But only until next year. Then they’ll move to London. Dad’s nearing the end of his working life, but he’ll probably continue to manage the occasional project for the company after he retires. I don’t think he knows how to do anything else but work, actually.’
    â€˜Where did you grow up? I can’t quite place your accent.’
    â€˜That’s because there’s a bit of everything in it. When I was a kid, my parents hauled me all over the world, wherever Dad happened to be based. I’ve spent most of the last decade based in the UK, but doing projects in other countries.’
    â€˜Do you enjoy moving around?’
    â€˜I used to.’
    â€˜But not now?’
    â€˜No, not any more.’ He cocked one eyebrow at her and grinned. ‘You haven’t asked me if I’m married?’
    She’d been dying to. ‘And are you?’
    â€˜No. Never have been, either. But I’ve cohabited a couple of times, one of them for two years. My lifestyle didn’t help. Nothing acrimonious about the