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She fished knives and forks out of a drawer and sat down at the table, pushing aside the piles of journals and books to make room for the plates. ‘I can’t remember. I might have had something at some point. So what’s your opinion on Harriet?’ She pushed cutlery across the table and poured some water. ‘Do you think she is depressed?’
He wondered if she even realised that she was talking about work again.
Did she do it on purpose to avoid a conversation of a more personal nature?
He picked up a fork and tried to summon up some enthusiasm for the meal ahead. It was a challenge. For him a meal was supposed to be a total experience. An event. A time to indulge the palate and the senses simultaneously. Clearly, for Alice it was just a means of satisfying the gnawing in her stomach.
Glancing down at his plate, he wondered whether he was going to survive the experience of Alice’s cooking or whether he was going to require medical attention.
She definitely needed educating about food.
‘Is Harriet depressed? It’s possible. I’ll certainly follow it up.’ He cautiously tasted the burnt offering on his plate and decided that it was the most unappetizing meal he’d eaten for a long time. ‘Postnatal depression is a serious condition.’
‘And often missed. She was fine after the twins but that’s not necessarily significant, of course.’ Alice finished her toasted cheese with brisk efficiency and no visible signs of enjoyment and put down her fork with an apologetic glance in his direction. ‘Sorry to eat so quickly. I was starving. I don’t think I managed to eat at all yesterday.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Perfectly. We had a bit of a drama in the bay. The lifeboat was called out to two children who’d managed to drift out to sea in their inflatable boat.’ She broke off and sipped her drink. ‘I spent my lunch-hour over with the crew, making sure they were all right. By the time I finished I had a queue of people in the surgery. I forgot to eat.’
To Gio, who had never forgotten to eat in his life, such a situation was incomprehensible. ‘You need to seriously rethink your lifestyle.’
‘You sound like Mary and Rita. I happen to like my lifestyle. It works for me.’ With a fatalistic shrug she finished her water and stood up. ‘So, Dr Moretti, what can I tell you about the practice to make your life easier? At this time of year we see a lot of tourists with the usual sorts of problems. Obviously, on top of the locals, it makes us busy, as you discovered today.’
All she thought about was work, he reflected, watching as she lifted a medical journal from the pile on the table and absently scanned the contents. She was driven. Obsessed. ‘Do you do a minor accident clinic?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and dropped the journal back on the pile. ‘David and I tried it two years ago but, to be honest, there were days when we were swamped and days when we were sitting around. We decided it was better just to fit them into surgery time. We have a very good relationship with the coastguard and the local paramedics. Sometimes they call on us, sometimes we call on them. We also have a good relationship with the local police.’
‘The police?’ His attention was caught by the gentle sway of her hips as she walked across the kitchen. Her movements were graceful and utterly feminine and from nowhere he felt a sharp tug of lust.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to talk sense into himself.
They were colleagues.
He’d known her for less than a day.
‘Beach parties.’ She lifted the kettle and filled it. ‘At this time of year we have a lot of teenagers just hanging out on the beach. Usually the problem’s just too much alcohol, as you saw this morning. Sometimes it’s drugs.’
To hide the fact that he was studying her, Gio glanced out towards the sea and tried to imagine it crowded with hordes of teenagers. Tried to drag his mind away from the tempting curve of her hips. ‘Looks peaceful to me. It’s hard to imagine it otherwise.’
She rested those same hips against the work surface while she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘They don’t come down this far. They congregate on the beach beyond the harbour. The surf is good. Too good sometimes, and then we get a fair few surfing accidents, as you also noticed this morning. Coffee?’
Gio opened his mouth to say yes and then winced as he saw her reaching into a cupboard for a jar. ‘You are using instant coffee?’
She pulled a face. ‘I know. It’s not my favourite either, but it’s better than nothing and I’ve run out of fresh. One of the drawbacks of living out here is that both the supermarket and the nearest espresso machine are a car ride away.’
‘Not any more.’
‘Don’t tell me.’ She spooned coffee into a mug. ‘You’ve brought your own espresso machine.’
‘Of course. It was a key part of my luggage. Along with a large supply of the very best beans.’
She stilled, the spoon still in her hand. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Coffee is extremely serious,’ he said dryly. ‘If you expect me to work hard, I need my daily fix, and if today is anything to go by then I’m not going to have time to pop up the hill to that excellent bakery.’
She scooped her hair away from her face and there was longing in her eyes. ‘You’re planning to make fresh coffee every morning?’
‘Si.’ He wondered why she was even asking the question when it seemed entirely normal to him. ‘It is the only way I can get through the day.’
