wriggled off Tom’s lap. ‘Joey,’ she said softly.
Tom stole a last kiss, then went to scoop his nephew off the beanbag. ‘Come on, sweetheart. You’re sleepy. Let’s get you home.’
To Flora’s surprise and pleasure, Joey didn’t wriggle out of his arms and actually let Tom carry him to the car.
‘See you tomorrow, Flora,’ he said softly. ‘And thank you.’
Flora still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened: that Tom had actually sat with her on his lap, had kissed her and told her he thought she was gorgeous.
She pinched herself. It hurt. So she wasn’t dreaming, then.
And the flowers he’d brought her were still on the table. She hadn’t even put them in water yet; she’d been too caught up in the way Tom had cradled her on his lap and kissed her. She smiled and put the flowers in a vase—and she was still smiling when she fell asleep that night.
On Friday evening, Tom had news. ‘I’m going to do the show-and-tell at Joey’s class next week.’
‘That’s great—he’ll enjoy that.’
‘And there’s something else—I play football in the local emergency services league. Our team’s having a “dads and sons” match on Sunday morning, when I’m off duty. I’m going to take Joey; will you come with us?’
‘I’ve never been to a football match.’
‘Because you hate football? ‘
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, it’s not really my sort of thing.’ And she’d been utterly hopeless at sport at school—always the last to be picked for any team.
‘Ah, but this is different. And Joey and I could do with someone standing on the sidelines cheering for us,’ Tom said.
Put like that, how could she refuse?
Then she thought of something. ‘So you’re working tomorrow?’ Being Saturday, Joey wouldn’t have school.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to bring Joey over?’
‘I can’t impose on you like that.’ Before she could protest that it was fine and she didn’t mind, he added softly, ‘Kevin’s parents are coming down to see him for the day. Actually, they’re coming this evening and staying overnight, so I’d better get back and sort my place out, because it’s a tip.’ He smiled at her. ‘The match on Sunday starts at ten so we’ll pick you up at half past nine, OK?’
‘Half-nine it is,’ she agreed.
He kissed her swiftly but very, very sweetly. ‘Sorry I have to go so soon—I would rather stay with you, but Joey needs to see his grandparents.’
‘Of course he does. I understand, Tom.’
‘I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.’ He stole a last kiss. ‘We’ll see you on Sunday morning.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
O N S UNDAY, Tom picked Flora up at half past nine on the dot and drove her to the playing field. She felt ridiculously shy as she climbed out of his car. Tom seemed to know everyone; people were coming up all the time to talk to him or clap him on the back and ask how many goals he thought he’d score in the match. And she didn’t know a single one of them. Nobody from Penhally was here; this was a completely different crowd to what she’d been expecting. The only person she could see that she recognised was Megan Phillips—and Megan was standing on the sidelines, shoulders hunched and hands in her pockets, her body language making it very clear that she didn’t want to talk to anyone.
This was awful. Just like one or two of her mums had confided to her about the baby and toddler group, the first time they’d been—everyone else knew each other and had bonded into a little group, and they weren’t part of it. Flora wasn’t part of this group, either.
Her advice to her mums had been to take a deep breath and start talking to someone, and they’d soon find something in common.
What a hypocrite she was—she couldn’t even follow her own advice. She didn’t have a clue what to say. What did she have in common with these glamorous women in their tight jeans, fashionable boots and waxed jackets? She couldn’teven go
Tom stole a last kiss, then went to scoop his nephew off the beanbag. ‘Come on, sweetheart. You’re sleepy. Let’s get you home.’
To Flora’s surprise and pleasure, Joey didn’t wriggle out of his arms and actually let Tom carry him to the car.
‘See you tomorrow, Flora,’ he said softly. ‘And thank you.’
Flora still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened: that Tom had actually sat with her on his lap, had kissed her and told her he thought she was gorgeous.
She pinched herself. It hurt. So she wasn’t dreaming, then.
And the flowers he’d brought her were still on the table. She hadn’t even put them in water yet; she’d been too caught up in the way Tom had cradled her on his lap and kissed her. She smiled and put the flowers in a vase—and she was still smiling when she fell asleep that night.
On Friday evening, Tom had news. ‘I’m going to do the show-and-tell at Joey’s class next week.’
‘That’s great—he’ll enjoy that.’
‘And there’s something else—I play football in the local emergency services league. Our team’s having a “dads and sons” match on Sunday morning, when I’m off duty. I’m going to take Joey; will you come with us?’
‘I’ve never been to a football match.’
‘Because you hate football? ‘
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, it’s not really my sort of thing.’ And she’d been utterly hopeless at sport at school—always the last to be picked for any team.
‘Ah, but this is different. And Joey and I could do with someone standing on the sidelines cheering for us,’ Tom said.
Put like that, how could she refuse?
Then she thought of something. ‘So you’re working tomorrow?’ Being Saturday, Joey wouldn’t have school.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to bring Joey over?’
‘I can’t impose on you like that.’ Before she could protest that it was fine and she didn’t mind, he added softly, ‘Kevin’s parents are coming down to see him for the day. Actually, they’re coming this evening and staying overnight, so I’d better get back and sort my place out, because it’s a tip.’ He smiled at her. ‘The match on Sunday starts at ten so we’ll pick you up at half past nine, OK?’
‘Half-nine it is,’ she agreed.
He kissed her swiftly but very, very sweetly. ‘Sorry I have to go so soon—I would rather stay with you, but Joey needs to see his grandparents.’
‘Of course he does. I understand, Tom.’
‘I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.’ He stole a last kiss. ‘We’ll see you on Sunday morning.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
O N S UNDAY, Tom picked Flora up at half past nine on the dot and drove her to the playing field. She felt ridiculously shy as she climbed out of his car. Tom seemed to know everyone; people were coming up all the time to talk to him or clap him on the back and ask how many goals he thought he’d score in the match. And she didn’t know a single one of them. Nobody from Penhally was here; this was a completely different crowd to what she’d been expecting. The only person she could see that she recognised was Megan Phillips—and Megan was standing on the sidelines, shoulders hunched and hands in her pockets, her body language making it very clear that she didn’t want to talk to anyone.
This was awful. Just like one or two of her mums had confided to her about the baby and toddler group, the first time they’d been—everyone else knew each other and had bonded into a little group, and they weren’t part of it. Flora wasn’t part of this group, either.
Her advice to her mums had been to take a deep breath and start talking to someone, and they’d soon find something in common.
What a hypocrite she was—she couldn’t even follow her own advice. She didn’t have a clue what to say. What did she have in common with these glamorous women in their tight jeans, fashionable boots and waxed jackets? She couldn’teven go
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