And that churning feeling in his stomach was telling him just how much he’d failed her. Some stranger—in a room somewhere—had done an assessment on his sister—and had seen the current underlying issues. Said the words that no one else would say. Questioned her current mental health.
He could have stopped this. He could have stopped her having to go through this.
If only he’d had the courage to sit her down and tell her to wait a while—to take some time.
Instead, he’d seen his sister, who was so desperate to be a mother she’d just moved on to the next option. The next rational possibility for her, without taking time to ascertain if she was ready for it.
He couldn’t have failed her more if he’d tried.
‘Where are you, Claire?’
Her voice wavered again. ‘I’m at home.’
He stood up. ‘Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
He was instantly angry.
Angry with himself. And angry with those around him.
He should have spoken to his sister. He should have seen how everything had affected her.
Instead, he’d spent the last few days focusing on his latest colleague. Thinking about the snatched glimpse of satin underwear. Thinking about long brown curls and a curvy frame. Thinking about the joy on his mother’s face as she got to experience being a surrogate gran.
He shook his head. That made his gut twist.
He didn’t have time for Gemma.
He had to focus on his family.
He had to focus on the needs of his sister.
Because right now they were the most important thing in the world.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS ALMOST embarrassing how early they were.
Gemma glanced at her watch—just after eight. Please let Mrs Scott be up already.
Isla was adjusting her bag of goodies in the seat next to her. Her array of toys that she’d decided to bring along today.
Getting Isla organised in the morning was usually like a military operation. It didn’t matter how much she’d arranged the night before. One shoe was always missing and Isla always wanted to change her outfit at least three times. At least she used to.
Getting ready to go to Mrs Scott’s seemed to take her all of two minutes. Hence the reason they were so early.
She pulled the car up outside the house and Isla opened her door and shot outside before she had a chance to speak. In two seconds flat she’d knocked on the door and opened it, shouting, ‘Hello, Granny Scott,’ at the top of her voice.
Gemma followed her through to the big kitchen, the heart of the family home. Mary was baking—already—and Isla was tying her apron around her waist as they spoke.
‘Good morning, Mary. I’m sorry we’re so early. I thought it would take longer to get Isla organised in the morning.’
Mary smiled and nodded towards the garden outside. ‘No matter, Gemma. You’re welcome any time. Go outside and say hello to my daughter Claire. There’s a pot of tea and some toast out there. Help yourself.’
Gemma smiled and glanced at her watch. Surgery didn’t start until nine-thirty. She had lots of time to kill and meeting Logan’s sister would be nice.
She walked out into the back garden. The early summer sun was already filling the sheltered garden with warmth. It really was a beautiful setting with the rich smell of Mary’s multicoloured rose bed filling the air.
She was always a little nervous meeting new people, which was strange for a doctor as she met new people every day. But professional and personal were very different. The last few years had made her guarded about revealing too much of herself to people she didn’t know.
‘Good morning,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Gemma Halliday, the new island paediatrician. I’m working with your brother Logan.’
The young dark-haired woman shifted in her seat at the sound of her voice and turned to meet her. She stood up and took Gemma’s hand. ‘Oh, how lovely to meet you. I’m Claire. My mum has told me so much about your daughter Isla.’
She lifted the teapot and gestured towards a cup. ‘Would you like some tea?’
Gemma nodded gratefully and sat down.
‘Thanks, Claire. That would be lovely.’
She was struck by how pale Claire was. Maybe it was that her hair was so dark, but her skin seemed rather washed out. Maybe belying some underlying condition?
She couldn’t be much younger than Gemma was herself, but Claire was quite thin, with dark circles visible under her eyes. And there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘So, what brings you to Arran, Gemma? And you’d better get used to answering that question, we’re a nosey bunch over here.’
Gemma laughed. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer the question without giving too much away. ‘I wanted to get away from the city. Isla’s about to start school and we lived in a really built-up area. I guess I decided that’s not where I wanted to bring up my daughter.’ She looked around the beautiful garden and shook her head. ‘We didn’t have anywhere like this to sit back home. It was time for a change.’
Claire took a sip of her tea. ‘You timed it well. Isla will make lots of new friends, starting school here.’
‘I hope so.’ She watched as Isla appeared at the back door, carrying a pile of washing that looked suspiciously like dolls’ clothes. There was a little rope strung between two trees and she took great care in pegging her washing to the line. She smiled. ‘Your mum has been a real blessing in disguise for me. My mum and dad died years ago and, to be honest, I didn’t really appreciate what Isla was missing out on. She was practically skipping this morning at the thought of spending time with your mum.’
There was a sad flicker across Claire’s eyes, her voice wistful. ‘My mum will be a wonderful grandmother. It just hasn’t happened yet.’
And she didn’t need to say any more. Because the look on her face said it all. That’s what it was. The sadness around Claire. The periphery
of a dark cloud sitting on her shoulders. Gemma recognised it so well. It had been the look of her friend Lesley for years and years.
Guilt twisted at her stomach. The permanent reminder of what she’d done.
This was bringing back painful reminders. She hadn’t been able to bear Lesley looking like this. The stress, the not eating, the weight loss, the depression. She hadn’t been able to bear the river of tears that Lesley had cried every month when, again, she hadn’t been pregnant. And the accumulation of all those things had resulted in her making the biggest decision of her life—offering to be a surrogate.
It was odd. She hadn’t been around anyone in the same position since. And the overwhelming rush of emotions at Claire’s predicament seemed to flood her. She had to be calm. She had to be reasonable. Most importantly, she had to be supportive.
She sipped her tea. ‘Well, give it time, Claire. You’re still a young woman. There are lots of options out there.’
Claire nodded and started spreading some butter on the toast, handing a slice over to Gemma. ‘Arran’s a fabulous place to bring up children. I hope you’ll like it here. How’s your house?’
‘Honestly? Better than I could have hoped for. I didn’t even view it before I bought it—except online, of course. It suits me and Isla perfectly. I’ve always dreamed of having a house that looked over the water. I can’t actually believe I’ve got it, I have to keep pinching myself.’
Claire smiled. ‘I took all those things for granted for so long. As a teenager I couldn’t wait to get off the island. But after a few years on the mainland I couldn’t wait to get back. I couldn’t see myself getting married and living anywhere but here.’
‘Is your husband an islander?’
She nodded. ‘And I hated him all the way through school. The frog took a number of years to turn into a prince.’
Gemma threw back her head and laughed. She liked this girl. She really did.
‘So what does he do?’
Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, you’ll meet him at some point—everybody does. Danny’s the manager of the island bank.’
‘And are you working right now?’