4
Florence
Florence was chatting to Rose when the new doctor walked in the surgery. Just for a moment she was quite taken aback by his youthful look. His glasses gave him a sophisticated appearance, and his pale-green shirt and dark trousers gave off neat vibes.
Suddenly, she felt a little dizzy, as it dawned on her she’d met this man before. Three years before. In London. There was a party. A friend’s thirtieth bash at a swanky hotel. They had danced. Flirted. Spent the night together in one of the plush rooms. She never saw him again. Only knew his first name.
She watched as he guided the little girl he was with over to a side room, then stepped away as he approached Rose.
‘You, me, Merlin, staff meeting as soon as we close, please, Rose.’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’ asked Rose, eyes innocent but knowing.
The doctor went to speak, but then noticed Florence.
Florence placed her notepad and pen in front of her chest as leaf-green eyes peered her way. ‘Florence Leyland, reporter for Island News , local rag.’ She flashed a smile, then pulled it back when she realised she was over-smiling.
The doctor cleared his throat as a small smile was returned. ‘Stefan Bedford. Doctor. Dr Bedford, erm…’ He cleared his throat again, then turned to Rose before looking back at Florence.
‘I’m writing an article about Dr Tully’s retirement, but I’ve been hearing about you and your…’ She tapped her pen on her chin as she mulled over which word to use.
Stefan had his eyebrows raised, obviously curious to find out what was coming next.
Florence simply gave a curt nod. ‘Not the best first impression.’
A small choke of a sound came from Rose.
Stefan kept eye contact with Florence. ‘I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you don’t mind, I have patients to see.’
Florence scanned the empty waiting area, thinking of the wonderful impression he had left on her during their one-night stand, and how disappointed she had been waking alone the next morning.
‘Next one is in half hour,’ said Rose, smiling at them both.
Stefan glanced at the door to his examination room. ‘Well, I’d better get prepared.’ He gave a brief nod to Florence, then went to turn.
‘Couldn’t I interview you?’ she asked, almost toppling into him as he came to an abrupt halt.
‘What for?’ He took step back. ‘I’m a GP, not a celebrity. And I can assure you, I have nothing that would make a thrilling story for your readers. So, if you don’t mind.’
‘Rudeness,’ said Florence, writing down the word, knowing full well those gorgeous green eyes of his were peering at her notes.
‘I beg your pardon?’
She rolled her eyes up slowly to meet agitation in his gaze, which amused her somewhat. ‘Not very helpful,’ she added to her notepad.
‘I hope that’s not about me. I—’
‘Cold,’ she mumbled, scribbling away.
‘I am not.’
Florence lowered her pad, tapping her perfectly manicured pink fingernail on the paper. ‘I think I have all I need.’
‘I don’t think you do.’
‘You can read my article online in the morning.’ Florence turned and glanced over her shoulder, flicking her hair for good measure. ‘I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, Dr Bedford, but, honestly, you’re quite standoffish, and…’
You don’t even remember me .
There was no way she was bringing up their shared past. If he had no memory of their night, then she would wipe it away too. She really thought she’d met someone nice and had hoped it was a beginning for them.
‘Erm, what is that little girl doing alone in there?’ She pointed at the closed door, knowing Dr Tully wasn’t inside, and no nurses were on duty that day.
‘She’s my daughter.’
Florence was truly dumbstruck. That child had to be around eight or nine. ‘Are you married?’ she asked, her voice breaking. Before he could reply, she held up a palm. ‘Never mind. None of my business. Bye.’ And with that, she made a dash for the front door.
It certainly was good to inhale some fresh air after feeling so suffocated in the surgery.
‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered, sprinting away in case Dr cheating Bedford came after her.
Even on the tram ride back to her office all she could do was curse him, and herself. Over and over, she told herself it wasn’t her fault. He hadn’t mentioned a wife, kids. How was she supposed to know?
As the tram glided along by the river, thoughts turned to her ex-fiancé. It was only a short time after her night with Stefan that she agreed to marry Gavin. He’d always liked her, and was from a well-to-do family, which had pleased her gold-digging mother, but her decision had come more from lack of self-worth, rather than love.
Lots of her old friends married within their rich circle for position, name, a chance to brag. She’d seen her own mother wed five times just to stay in the game. There had been endless talk about who was who, and who was a good enough match.
Florence had only been welcomed into Gavin’s family because her mum was in bed with some businessman of the year type, highly valued in his own field. If it wasn’t for her mother’s scheming and manipulation of rich men, their family life would have never been filled with posh schools, designer clothes, private chefs, stately homes, and horses.
Thanks to scandal, fraud, and prison, all Florence had now was the life she had created for herself in Pepper Bay. At least that was something no one could take from her, and she was perfectly happy until the blast from the past showed up.
‘Oh, flipping crumbs,’ she muttered as she flopped to her desk.
Zeke popped his head out of his office. ‘All okay?’
Florence snapped up straight. ‘Yep. Got a story to write for tomorrow’s news.’
‘Ooh, best get it done quickly then.’
‘On it.’ She hovered her fingertips over the keyboard, nerves rattling, throat clogging, and palms sweating. That lowlife piece of scum wasn’t getting a welcome to town story, oh no. Whoever opened Island News in the morning would read all about the new, unhelpful, unsociable, Dr Stefan Bedford. The great big fat cheat. Perhaps she wouldn’t put that last bit.
As soon as she submitted her article over to Zeke, she sat back, wrists burning from speed typing, and relaxed her jaw. ‘Good luck to you, Doc. And your wife.’
‘This is good stuff,’ Zeke called out.
Florence sat up. ‘Perhaps I should remove the line about there being a Mrs Bedford.’
‘Nah, the readers will want to know about her too. Although, after what you’ve written, I’m not sure she’ll make many friends.’
Florence frowned. ‘I didn’t make her sound bad.’
‘No, you didn’t, but the Bedfords might not get many invites for tea.’ Zeke sighed loudly. ‘On the flip side, the locals might feel sorry for her having such a miserable git of a husband.’
Florence definitely felt sorry for her, whoever she was.