‘Not really.’ Sally was still struggling to take in the news. The other doctors were OK, pleasant enough, but Roger Willis was her favourite. The practice wouldn’t be the same without him.
‘It was Emily’s idea.’ Roger refilled their wine glasses. ‘She spotted the ad in Pulse, organised a trip up to Skipton, even dragged me round the estate agents before I knew I’d got the job. We’d always planned to retire up there,’ he went on. ‘But this way we’ve got a few years of me working in the area first, becoming a real part of the community.’
‘That’s why we asked you over here this evening. We wanted you to be the first to know. Here, take a look at the place we’re buying.’ Bursting with excitement, Emily produced a glossy brochure. ‘All my life I’ve dreamed of living in a house like this.’
They were moving to Yorkshire and they expected her to be pleased about it. Sally’s heart was in her boots but she forced herself to take the brochure and look interested.
The place was spectacular, a sprawling converted farmhouse on a hillside with lovingly tended gardens and stunning views across the valley. There were five bedrooms, three of them ensuite, and a kitchen the size of a tennis court. There was even a granny annexe, a snooker room and —
crikey — an actual tennis court.
Sally said, ‘It’s fantastic. Can I come with you?’
Emily paused, a forkful of fish pie halfway to her mouth. ‘Really?’
Oh no, it was like the middle-aged divorced chap attempting humour in the waiting room this morning. ‘I was joking,’ said Sally.
‘Oh’ Emily’s face fell. ‘Shame.’
‘Sorry?’
‘No, my fault, you got our hopes up there for a minute.’ Emily waggled her free hand. ‘It’s just that the current receptionist is the wife of the chap Roger’s replacing. They’re moving down to Cornwall. So the practice needs a replacement ... but of course you wouldn’t want to leave London, silly of me to even think it! Although you’re welcome to come up and stay with us whenever you like. In fact you must! You’ll fall in love with the place, I know you will. The people are so warm and sociable, it’s like a different world up there.’
Sally gazed again at the photographs in the glossy brochure. Was this a sign?
Was Yorkshire a different world?
Was it fate that had brought Mr Allerdyce into the surgery this morning with his heart-warming tale of true love? She hadlooked through his medical notes after- his visit and discovered that the wife he adored was crippled with osteoporosis and confined to a wheelchair, but that with the help of the family Mr Allerdyce was able to care for her devotedly. Reading this and picturing the two of them together had sent Sally into the loo for another little weep. Honestly, it was a wonder she was able to see out of these eyes, they’d squeezed out so many tears today.
‘When we wake up in the morning we’ll look out of our bedroom window and see all that.’
Roger Willis proudly tapped the photograph of rolling green hills dotted with sheep.
Sally drank it in. Sheep. How many people could look out of their window in London and see sheep?
All Creatures Great and Small. That had been one of her favourite TV programmes. And she’d always had a secret weakness for Postman Pat. There were hills and sheep galore in Greendale.
Was this all simply a coincidence or could it be a sign that she was meant to live somewhere hilly and popular with sheep? Where men were men and true love still existed? Where people called you lass and made you welcome?
Heartbeat. Was that set in Yorkshire? Yes it was.
Where the Heart Is? Tick, ditto.
The Royal. Ha, yes, so was that. And there was a reason why so many feel-good cosy Sunday evening dramas were set in Yorkshire. It was because Yorkshire was a cosy feel-good place to live.
And there was a Harvey Nichols in Leeds .. .
‘Hello? Sally?’ Roger was holding the dish of fish pie, waving the ladle to attract her attention.
Having caught it, he said jovially, ‘What are you thinking? You’re miles away!’
‘I’m not.’ Sally moved her fork to one side, allowing him to spoon another helping of delicious fish pie onto her plate. ‘But you never know. I could be.’
’I’ve got some good news for you,’ said Sally.
‘Oh?’ Gabe halted in the doorway, clearly surprised to see her still up at one o’clock in the morning.
‘Great news. Happy news.You’re going to be thrilled. It might even make you crack a smile.’
Sally was drinking Pernod and water, which was unbelievably disgusting but she’d been in need of Dutch courage and there hadn’t been anything else alcoholic in the flat. Talking things through with Lola would have helped but Lola was away for the night, being wined and dined at a publisher’s dinner being held in a hotel in Berkshire.
She had to do this on her own. Well, with the aid of Pernod.
‘Go on then,’ said Gabe. ‘Thrill me.’
Having psyched herself up to tell him, Sally abruptly lost her temper.
‘See? See? You’re still doing it!’ Her eyes narrowed and her voice rose as Gabe chucked his jacket over the back of the chair. ‘Even now! I’m trying to tell you something that you’ll want to hear and you’re being all distant and sarcastic.’
‘I’m sorry. Right, I’m listening. See?’ Gabe made his face, deliberately blank. ‘Not being sarcastic at all.’
And now he was treating her like a child. Her stomach in knots, Sally blurted out, ‘Well, don’t worry, soon you can be as sarky as you like because I won’t be here to see it. I’m moving out.’
