Carol Marinelli – The Midwife's One-Night Fling: The Midwife's One-Night Fling / Baby Miracle in the ER (страница 18)

Freya herself didn’t understand.

She liked it that there was no risk of getting overly involved with Richard.

The break-up with Malcolm had been tricky. He’d kept messaging and coming round, turning up wherever she went, wanting to talk, to see if they could give it another go.

Well, she wouldn’t be having that problem with Richard!

It was rather freeing.

* * *

It was nice to dress up and go out. She hadn’t brought much with her, but she had a nice copper-coloured dress, and with heels it was dressy enough. Her hair was still rather wild from going to bed with it damp last night, so Freya wore it up and then added a dash of lipstick.

She glanced at her phone as she put the lipstick back in her bag, and then decided she’d do well to leave the phone at home, to prevent herself from replying to Richard.

She had no idea what she would say anyway.

Freya headed to the Tavern bar, and she felt herself tense a little as she walked inside. It was Friday night in Cromayr Bay, and that meant there was a fair chance Malcolm would be there. But thankfully there was no sign of him, and a moment or two later Alison arrived.

The Tavern really was gorgeous—a boutique hotel just off the main street, it was set high on a hill and offered a stunning version of Freya’s favourite view of the Firth.

They climbed the steps to the restaurant and were shown to their seats by a waitress. Then Gordon, the owner, came over.

‘Are you two here for a last trip down memory lane?’

‘Something like that.’ Freya smiled.

‘I remember you coming here when you passed your midwifery exams—och, and for your eighteenth too...’

‘I’m going to miss the old place.’ Alison sighed.

‘Well, hopefully you’ll love the new one just as much,’ Gordon said, and then he talked them through the menu.

They made their choices—which was tough, because there was lobster brought in from the pots just that afternoon, and there was Dornoch lamb, as well as Freya’s favourite, game pie. But she’d had that the last time she was here...

‘I’m going to have the lamb, please,’ Freya said.

‘And I’ll have the spelt and mushroom risotto,’ Alison said.

Freya had wine, and Alison a mocktail, and they chatted about Freya’s move to London.

‘So, have you made any friends there yet?’ Alison asked.

‘Not really,’ Freya admitted. ‘They’re very cliquey...’ she started. Only that wasn’t quite right. They were all very nice. ‘I don’t know what it is. I try, I just don’t seem to fit in. Richard says I’m too subtle.’

‘Richard?’

‘A friend,’ Freya said.

‘So you have made one.’

‘A temporary one.’ Freya said. ‘He’s being interviewed for a plum new job in a private hospital.’

‘In London?’ Alison checked.

Freya nodded. ‘And he’ll get it—he’s brilliant.’

‘Well, if it’s in London that doesn’t have to stop you from being friends. So you do have one.’

‘I guess...’

Alison smirked, because she knew Freya well, and from the little flush on her cheeks it was clear to her he was more than just a friend.

‘It’s just a temporary thing,’ said Freya.

‘Why?’

‘Because temporary is all he does.’

‘But that’s not like you.’ Alison frowned.

‘Well, maybe it is. Look, we’ve been out a couple of times, and both of us know that it won’t be going any further, and that actually suits me just fine.’

‘Why?’ Alison asked again.

‘It just does,’ Freya said, and gave an uncomfortable shrug.

She wasn’t ready to tell Alison she was thinking of coming home for good once her contract was up, but thankfully then their meals arrived.

The lamb was delectable and the conversation became easier. Alison chatted about her and Callum’s tenth wedding anniversary, which was soon coming up.

‘Can you believe it?’

‘Not really.’ Freya laughed. ‘It feels like just a couple of years ago that I was your bridesmaid.’

‘Are you coming home for your thirtieth?’ Alison asked.

‘I think so,’ Freya said. ‘Though I’m doing all I can not to think about that.’

They had a wonderful night catching up. Although not about the things that hurt.

As Freya walked down the hill for home the air was salty, and despite the late hour the sky was still dusky. It was so much lighter here than in London. But autumn would soon close in.

It was one of the reasons she’d come home.

Tomorrow she had to speak to the estate agent about house prices and things, as soon the families renting for summer breaks would fade away and her little slice of potential heaven would be going on the market.

It would be a relief, Freya told herself. The rentals covered the mortgage, but there was a lot of work to be done on her home.

A lot.

She let herself in and smiled at the pretty flowers she’d set by the window. Then she made herself a hot chocolate, frothing the milk in her coffee machine, and took herself to bed.

Freya rarely closed the curtains. There was nothing between her little cottage and the water, and the sight of the bridges always had her in awe. They were miles away, of course, but it looked as if fairy lights had been expertly strung in the sky, and the new Queensferry Crossing was magnificent.

Tomorrow she was catching up with a few friends, and then there was a huge Sunday dinner at her parents’ house to look forward to.

And then she thought about Alison and what she’d said about ‘temporary’ not usually suiting her. Perhaps now it did.

She took out her phone and read again the text he had sent.

Freya liked Richard.

A lot.

From the moment she had first seen him he had captivated her.

Yet she wanted to keep things breezy and light.

Or rather, she had to.

And not just because Richard Lewis had told her that it was the only way they could be. It was also because this place was home. Not London.

Freya had made up her mind now—she would not be selling her home.

* * *

He’d noticed her lack of response to his text.