Free From Single Mum to Lady by Judy Campbell Page B

life, but Abigail is secure and happy—and, of course, she’s my priority. It’s important that she has stability in her life—a proper home, not a stopgap until I can get something permanent.’
    Patrick nodded. ‘You must have been having a few sleepless nights,’ he murmured.
    He leant back in his chair and looked at Jandy perceptively—the determined tilt of her chin, the steady look of purpose in her eyes. He admired the way that she had managed to get her life on an even keel again despite all her difficulties—his offer of the house would be a godsend to her. But he hadn’t realised the ghastly story behind the fact that she was a single parent. How cruel would it be to risk upsetting her little boat and drawing her into his complicated life? If she took the house they would be bound more closely together—and would that be wise?
    ‘And what made you take up nursing?’ he enquired lightly, changing the subject.
    Jandy smiled. ‘Someone gave me a nurse’s outfit when I was little, and somehow the idea of becoming a real nurse got a hold of me. I must have been mad—it’s hard to bring up a child on my salary!’
    ‘But you enjoy your work and your sister helps you with your little girl?’
    ‘Yes—I’m very lucky, and Abby adores Lydia. And you?’ she asked. ‘Was your father a doctor? That often seems to inspire people to take up medicine.’
    ‘No. My father is…well, he’s a farmer really and loves the land. I think he’d have liked me to have taken it up too, but my brother and I were impatient to do our own thing.’
    ‘I heard you say you were living with your father?’
    ‘For the time being,’ Patrick replied lightly. ‘My little girl loves living in the house.’
    ‘And whereabouts…?’
    ‘Oh, not too far away—reasonably convenient.’
    There was something about his voice—a studied vagueness—as if he had suddenly pulled the shutters down about any more information on his personal life, and Jandy flicked a look of slight surprise at him. She was perceptive enough to realise that there’d been a slight shift in his attitude towards her—as if he’d stepped back a bit. She felt slightly hurt, as he’d asked her about her past and she’d been frank with him. It seemed he was less eager to confide in her and she’d obviously taken too much for granted. She took the hint and stood up quickly.
    ‘I’ll look forward to seeing the house on Saturday, then,’ she said briskly. ‘And thanks for the coffee and rescuing me from those yobs. I’d better get back or Karen won’t be too pleased.’
    Patrick toyed with his coffee spoon, watching Jandy go out of the canteen, the light catching her burnished hair, now done up in a neat coil at the back of her head. He’d only known her a week or two, and yet he was beginning to feel he’d known her for many months. They had much in common, and perhaps they could have helped each other heal the wounds they had from the past—but he wasn’t ready to commit to anyone yet.
    He sighed heavily. If he didn’t put the brakes on things, his relationship with Jandy might turn into a rerun of what had happened in London in the months after Rachel had died.
    Gazing unseeingly across the table, the ghastly loneliness of that time came flooding back to him, and how easily he’d hurtled into a relationship with someone he’d known only briefly. He’d been vulnerable, hating the thought of being alone, feeling deeply guilty that he had caused his wife’s death. Tara had been a shoulder to cry on, deeply sympathetic, limpet-like in her determination not to leave him alone. By the time he had realised he was only desirable to her because of his family background, and that she had absolutely no interest in his little daughter, indeed was irritated by her, it had been almost too late to extricate himself from the engagement he’d been coerced into.
    He didn’t think that Jandy was the type of girl to be impressed because of who he was—it