A Surgeon for the Single Mom

‘No!’ Effie exclaimed, a shrill note of panic echoing through her voice.

‘Effie, what does it tell your daughter that you’re putting up with this landlord messing you around? Taking advantage?’

He might not have intended it, but what he’d said played on every insecurity she had.

‘I don’t need someone to swoop in and save me,’ she growled. ‘I’ve been taking care of my daughter alone for thirteen years. I don’t need a...a...stranger telling me he knows best.’

‘For pity’s sake, this isn’t some test as to whether you’re a good mother or not,’ he countered. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you aren’t both absolutely freezing and miserable?’

She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides. ‘We can cope. We’ve put up with worse.’

‘I don’t doubt it—more’s the pity!’

His voice was too even, too level, and somehow that got under her skin all the more. Her temper—which she’d kept hidden away for more years than she could remember—began to flare.

‘We don’t need you charging in thinking we need saving. Offering us your goodwill like we’re some charity case. Suggesting we can’t manage.’

‘It wasn’t an offer,’ he replied grimly. ‘Or a suggestion.’

‘Really?’ Effie could barely contain her incredulity. ‘You’re that high-handed you think you can just order me and my thirteen-year-old daughter to come and stay with you and I’ll obey? As if that doesn’t set a worse example to her than anything else?’

‘Fine.’ His jaw pulled taut. ‘Then I’m at least calling the creep to find out exactly what’s going on.’

She couldn’t possibly have articulated what it was in his expression that rooted her to the spot. That made her whole body shiver so deliciously despite everything. And before she could analyse it further he’d turned from her, pulling out his mobile phone. It was only when he began speaking that she realised with whom he was having his rather commanding one-sided conversation.

Goodness, he must have saved the number when Nell had given him their landlord’s contact details. She should react. Stop him. Grab the phone and take control. Awkwardly, stiffly, she reached her hand out, but abruptly his face darkened menacingly as he growled into the

phone.

‘Asbestos?’

Effie froze solid. She was watching and listening, but unable to move or to say a word. Her brain was apparently not even capable of understanding Tak’s side of the conversation, save for the fact that she would be eternally grateful his barely contained rage wasn’t remotely directed at her.

Finally, he terminated the call with a grim sound. All she could do was wait. Immobile. Barely even breathing.

‘It seems your flat is located directly below the plant room,’ he bit out at length. ‘It seems that since the last conversation, he found asbestos in the lagging around the pipes. It’s going to need to be cleared out immediately—which means taking your ceiling down to get to the pipes.’

She felt as though she was fighting to swim through treacle. ‘Okay, but that won’t take long, surely? It’s a small flat. Pulling out a bit of insulation might take a day? Two?’

‘They’ll have to remove the ceilings from your entire flat, clear out the lot, re-insulate, board the ceilings, then plaster then. You’re talking a minimum of a week. Then there’s still the week or so to replace all the pipework in your flat.’

‘Two weeks?’ it would eat up all her savings, and then some.

‘It isn’t just that, Effie. Your landlord is going to need surveys, HSE approval, and then find a fully licensed contractor to remove the asbestos. You’re talking a minimum of six weeks—and that’s assuming he can find someone available to start straight away.’

The ramifications came at her almost in slow motion. ‘Nell and I are going to have to move out?’ Her voice didn’t even sound like her own.

‘Yes.’

‘For six weeks?’

‘At least.’

‘No!’ Effie exclaimed, unable to cover the note of panic in her tone. ‘How dare you? You...you’ve no right.’

There was a note in her voice which threatened to betray the fact that it wasn’t just her pride talking, but rather her flip-flopping traitorous heart. A note which gave away just how wickedly tempting his offer was.

‘I didn’t create this, Effie.’ He sounded unperturbed. ‘I didn’t put the asbestos there.