The Midwife And The Single Dad (10 page)

A much happier Ann had gone home and Alice waited for the phone call that she knew would come. And in time Ben did phone. His voice was hopeful. ‘Alice? I saw Ann passing my window, she looked happy. Did you find out what was wrong?’

Alice hesitated, but this had to be said. ‘Now you have to trust me. If there’s a problem then I have dealt with it.’

Silence from the phone. Then, ‘I’m Ann McCann’s GP and I’m concerned about her.’

‘I just told you, Ben. You have to trust me.’

There was another silence and then he said, ‘Trust. That’s a word that you’ve used a lot recently. You’ve felt that your trust has been abused. Well, I won’t do that. Fair enough, I do trust you. And, Alice, thanks for your help.’

Alice put down the receiver. More and more she was realising that not all men were like Sean Evans. Ben wasn’t. And she loved him for it.

Later that afternoon she went on another visit to one of the little settlements. Since she now lived over the job, she really enjoyed it when she had a reason—not an excuse—to go driving round the island. The women in the town had no difficulty walking to see her, but a fair proportion of the population lived in far-flung cottages and farms. There were no buses so people relied on their own transport. And if their husband needed the vehicle during the day…

She enjoyed her trip out, this was the furthest she had ever been. Near the town there tended to be visitors exploring their little bit of wilderness, but few of them got this far. Some distance from town she crossed a long section of boggy land, glad to use the four-wheel-drive. Often the surface of the road was covered with stagnant water, occasionally the water was deeper than she had realised. She didn’t like it. Water belonged in streams and the sea, not on roads.

Eventually she came to the islet of Calvag. She stopped before crossing to it. Years ago she and Ben had cycled this far but they had decided to go no further than this. Careful or afraid? She wasn’t sure which.

There was a shallow stretch of sea between the mainland and the island, and to get to the island it was necessary to drive across a fifty-yard causeway. The causeway had been built many years ago, now parts of it were crumbling. There was talk of European money being available to rebuild it but it hadn’t appeared yet. At low tide the causeway stood proud of the water. At high tide the sea washed over it—but only deep enough to cover the bottom of a vehicle’s tyres. In good weather, that was. In bad weather, things could be different.

Alice had checked the tides, knew that everything should be fine. And the sun was shining and the mountains stood clear. All would be well.

There was a little row of cottages, only four of them inhabited. She was visiting Eleanor Reay, a primigravida thirty weeks into her pregnancy. The usual pencilled notes told Alice that at the moment there was no husband with her. He was one of the many who had to work away—in his case, on the ferries. He got home for a longish stay once a fortnight and had arranged for time off when the birth was imminent.

It was Alice’s first visit to Eleanor, she felt a little guilty at not having visited her so far. But Eleanor didn’t mind, she was happy where she was. ‘I get on well with the other people here, even though they are mostly a bit older than me.’

‘You don’t get lonely?’

Eleanor laughed. ‘Well, soon I’ll have a baby to keep me company, won’t I? No, I don’t get lonely. Did I hear that you used to work in London?’

‘For the last fifteen years.’

Eleanor shook her head. ‘I’ve only been once and I knew it wouldn’t suit me. All the noise and the smell and so many people! There’s just no peace there. And I like to live here because of what the land can give me. See those pictures?’ She pointed to a set of pen-and-ink drawings of seabirds, lined neatly on one wall. Alice had noticed them when she’d come into the living room but hadn’t liked to go over and look at them. Now she did. ‘They’re lovely,’ she said, ‘so precise.’

‘I draw them and I sell quite a few. Drawing keeps me from being lonely.’ From a drawer she took a large album. ‘You know how a lot of people keep a set of photographs of their baby, showing how it’s growing? Well, I’m going to do something different. I’m going to do a set of drawings. See, I’ve done the first one. Twenty weeks before birth.’

Alice had never seen anything like it. Eleanor had obviously worked from the ultrascan of her baby, taken at twenty weeks. But somehow she had taken the vague image and turned it into a living thing. There was love in the drawing. ‘I think that’s wonderful,’ she said, and meant every word.

So far Eleanor was turning out to be the perfect mother-to-be. She was eating well, resting properly, keeping her body fit. She practised relaxation every day. She knew exactly what to expect, had read every book suggested to her. Only one thing to decide now.

Alice was hesitant. Eleanor was so obviously happy with her lonely home. It would be possible for her to come out here and deliver the baby but it would mean leaving her work for some time. That would make things difficult as there would be no one to take her place. ‘Have you any thoughts about the delivery?’

Fortunately Eleanor was very practical. ‘I’d love to have the baby here,’ she said, ‘but I realise that would be selfish. So will you book me into your new birthing unit?’

‘Happy to,’ said Alice gratefully. ‘I’d like to stay here with you but…you’re right. It would be difficult.’

Alice felt happy as she set off back. Eleanor was the perfect primigravida. She knew what to expect and was prepared for it. If only all mothers-to-be were like her!

The tide had turned when she re-crossed the causeway, tzzhe water higher. Alice smiled. She didn’t mind. Perhaps she was getting over her irrational fear of water.

‘This is Soalay weather,’ Ben said next day. ‘We know what to expect.’ He was standing beside her outside the surgery, both were looking up at the mountains. They couldn’t see the mountain peaks, which were shrouded in mist. And there was dampness in the wind that blew against them. ‘It’s going to rain.’ He was stating the obvious.

They were standing by his Land Rover. Alice was in her uniform, of course, but she threw a set of heavy waterproofs and a pair of Wellingtons into the car. They could well be needed.

It was the afternoon and she was going out with Ben again. He was going to check on the progress of a woman who had a broken arm as there was some suggestion
of infection. She also had a child who needed injections. Ben had suggested that this was her work so they could drive out together. It would be a good idea not to make their patients both come into town.

Alice had agreed that it would be a good idea. But she wondered because if he really did need her, he could have given the injections. Perhaps he just wanted her company? The thought made her feel warm inside.

‘Fiona was asking when we’d see you again,’ he said as they drove out of town. ‘She’s quite missing you.’

‘I’m missing her. My flat is lovely and I’m very happy there but I remember staying at Taighean dhe Gaoithe and…’

Then she stopped. She couldn’t really tell a man just how much she had enjoyed living with him in his house. It might seem a bit…forward.

This was the first time they’d been really alone together for any length of time since her cut-short dinner party. The first time they’d been alone since he had kissed her. Nothing had been said about it. She wondered if it had been just one isolated incident that was of no importance to him and would be quickly forgotten. She hadn’t forgotten it. And she thought—hoped—that he hadn’t either.

Today they drove to the opposite end of the island, the hillier end. And as they left the town, the expected rain started. Steady at first, but then a definite downpour, rattling on the windscreen and making it hard to see what was ahead. Ben switched on the lights. Alice decided not to say anything as he needed to concentrate. But it was a pity. She thought they needed to talk.

They reached the farmhouse that was their destination, managed to park right by the front door and then dash inside without bothering with their wet-weather clothes. And everything else went well. There was no problem with the broken arm, the little boy who needed the injections stood there and accepted them calmly, the household was happy and healthy. One quick mug of tea and they were on their way.

‘Ahead of schedule,’ he said, ‘that’s unusual.’

‘In medicine, every job takes twice as long as the time allowed for it,’ she quoted. ‘But this was the exception that proved the rule. Did you know that in that saying, the word “proved” meant tested?’

He glanced at her, disconcerted. ‘No, I didn’t. But now the saying makes sense. Alice, did you know that you still have the power to surprise me?’

‘Good,’ she said.

If anything, the rain was even harder now and they were bumping slowly down a narrow road along the side of a narrow valley. And, as had happened so often recently, she remembered something. A flash of complete recollection, as if what had happened had happened yesterday, not sixteen years before.

‘Stop here,’ she said when they were halfway down the valley. ‘Stop here, pull in by that big rock.’

He was shocked by the urgency of her tone.’ Why? Are you all right? Not sick or anything?’

‘I’ve never felt better. But pull in anyway.’

He did as she urged him and when they’d stopped she leapt out of the car, dashed for the shelter of the big rock. After a moment he joined her. The rock was undercut,
they were standing, sheltered from the rain, in what was almost a cave. The rain hung like a silver curtain over the cave entrance.

They stood, silent, irresolute, looking at each other.

After a while he said, ‘You have that look in your eye. I suspect that you have memories of this place.’

‘Don’t be shy with me, Benjamin Cavendish! You remember this rock very well! We came here when we were cycling together.’

‘We covered most of this island while we were cycling. What was special about this place?’

But she knew by the half-smile on his face that he did remember. Her voice was dreamy as she said, ‘I was just getting to know you. We’d come up here on our bikes and it started to rain. It wasn’t raining like this, we knew it was only a shower so we came here to shelter. And then…’

‘And then I kissed you,’ he said. ‘I had wanted to for so long.’

‘And I had wanted you to kiss me. But I wasn’t as forward then as I was now.’ She looked at him expectantly.

‘Give me a moment to catch up,’ he said. He took her by the arms, pulled her closer to him. Then he kissed her—on the forehead.

Was that it? she wondered. What about two nights ago? There had been so much more passion then.

But then he had been in a hurry. They had more time now. He slid his arms round her but still held her only loosely. He kissed each cheek then but, still holding her, moved back a little. ‘I love looking at your face,’ he said. ‘I see the young girl, the first girl I ever kissed
with any real intent and I felt so much for her. Now I see not a girl but a woman, who is older but who is even more lovely than the girl—if that is possible.’

‘That’s a nice thing to say. Now you can kiss me properly.’

He did kiss her and it seemed to last for ever. And behind them the rain spattered on the bare rocks and they seemed locked in their own little world.

After a while their lips parted and they stood cheek to cheek and talked a while. Their bodies were still crushed together and she could feel the throbbing of his heart against her breasts. She could feel the equally wild throbbing of her own heart! What was he doing to her?

‘So now what?’ he asked, his voice tense. ‘What do you want of me? This is so good—but I’m not sure that it’s a very good idea.’

She didn’t want to talk—she didn’t want to think. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again and just to feel. Couldn’t they wait just a few moments more before they had to enter the real hard world and talk? So she leaned forward and kissed him again. His arms tightened again round her. And, yes, they could wait a few moments more.

But in time the talking had to start. She had to answer his questions—
so now what
? And his other question—
what do you want of me
? She wasn’t sure she knew the answer to either.

‘I don’t know what I want of you,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what I want in general. This has happened three or four times since I got back here on Soalay and since I met you again. Memories jump back that are so real.’
She felt confused. ‘And they’re not like the memories of my parents or my schooldays or how I was happy enough. All my strongest memories are of you. I wonder if I’m trying to get back the feelings I had for you all those fifteen years ago.’

‘We were young, we didn’t know what we had. We didn’t know how wonderful it was. I shouldn’t have talked you into going to London. I let you go.’

‘It was my decision!’ she protested. ‘I knew what I was doing.’ Then there was a pause and she had to add, ‘No, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was going to train in Edinburgh so I could be near you, and then I got that offer from Royal Harriwells in London. I didn’t expect it. But it was the best midwifery training school in Britain.’

‘You had to take it. And I could have tried to find a place in London—but I didn’t. So we parted. We promised to keep in touch but…’

It had been a long time ago but she remembered it so well. ‘I suppose that what happened was inevitable,’ she said. And both of them fell silent.

At first, of course, they had kept in touch. But for both of them there had been the excitement of living in a big city. And for both of them the demands of work had been hard. So perhaps it had been inevitable that they would drift apart. The letters, the phone calls had grown more infrequent. And eventually, after some months, an honest letter from Ben. He had met a girl on a course, was seeing something of her…he thought it right that Alice should know. She had replied kindly they had to get on with their lives, they could remain friends. But they had drifted even further apart. Letters
had become more and more infrequent, after two years only Christmas cards. And then even they’d stopped.