The Midwife And The Single Dad (3 page)

‘I’
M A
happy man now,’ Ben said. ‘There’s nothing I need. I love the island, I love my work. And most of all I’ve got my daughter and I love her most and there’s no way I can lose her. My life’s centred on her, like I said, I’m a happy man.’

‘You’re lucky,’ Alice said with feeling. ‘Being happy isn’t easy. But a single man with a child? Does everyone on the island know that you’re divorced?’

Suddenly his face was grim and Alice wished she hadn’t asked. ‘Everyone does know. But no one really knows why. No reason why they should, it’s my affair. Still, what they don’t know they make up. You know that’s the way people are here, they’re interested. But the other side is that there’s always help if you need it.’

Alice grinned. ‘Remember the two of us going on a cycle ride down to Brochel Point? It started to rain. We knew it would be over quite soon so we sheltered in that old barn.’

He sighed. ‘I do remember! It got sunny again after fifteen minutes so we were able to carry on.’

‘And both sets of parents knew that we’d been in the barn together before we even got home.’

He nodded. ‘There’s no keeping a secret here.’

‘But it’s nice to know that you belong.’

Somehow the conversation seemed to have veered from being about Ben’s divorce. There was still a lot more Alice wanted to know about Ben’s wife. And wasn’t she entitled to? After all, so many years ago she had vaguely thought that she would be his wife. Still, that wasn’t something that she could really say.

It was later in the evening. Ben had come back from seeing his patient, gone in to see his sleeping daughter, stared at her a while and then kissed her. He agreed with Alice that Fiona had some kind of not too serious infection. Then they had eaten in the kitchen, a casserole that Mrs McCann had left in the oven. And now they were sitting relaxed in the living room.

Alice was sitting with her back to the end of a leather couch, her legs stretched out along it, her shoes on the floor. Ben was sprawled in a matching easy chair, with his feet on a pouffe. In the corner a child alarm recorded the grunts and murmurs from the sleeping Fiona.

It was nearly dark but the curtains were undrawn. And through the window there was a view of the sun setting crimson into the now grey sea. It was so beautiful, Alice thought. Was there a view in London to compare with this? For the moment she felt happy, at peace with the world.

Ben walked over to her, filled her glass with more white wine. ‘My marriage was a disaster,’ he said as he moved back to his chair, ‘but you don’t want to hear about that.’

In fact, Alice very much wanted to hear about it but she thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to say so right now. So she merely said, ‘I’d like to know if you want to tell me some time. But it can’t be too much of a disaster since you’ve got Fiona.’

Ben smiled. ‘True. I have my daughter, Fiona Alice Cavendish, the best thing in my life.’

I wonder if he ever thought that I was the best thing in his life, Alice asked herself but obviously she said nothing. Instead, ‘Fiona
Alice
Cavendish? Why Alice?’

His voice was calm. ‘I always liked the name.’

Alice felt miffed. She’d given him the chance of saying something nice about her. Perhaps just something about the memory of happy youthful days with her—and he had ignored it. However…

Then there was silence, a grim silence, and Alice regretted asking him about the divorce. After a moment she gently said, ‘Ben, I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t remember you as an angry person.’

He sighed. ‘I don’t want to lumber you with my troubles. But I want to make a point to you. I’m telling you so you won’t expect me to be the old Ben. I’m a different man, Alice. I’m harder, not the adolescent I was fifteen years ago. Perhaps I’ve grown up. I don’t trust people the way I used to. I especially don’t trust women who talk about love.’

He stood, walked towards her. ‘Your glass is empty. Let me fill it.’

Alice blinked, she hadn’t even noticed herself drinking.

The two of them sat quietly for a while. Ben apparently was calming down but Alice found herself getting
more angry. This was the man she once had—years ago—hoped to marry. His child should have been hers. She wondered further. Ben seemed to have made as big a mess of his life as she had of hers.

It was Ben who first voiced what they were both obviously thinking. ‘Who would have thought all that time ago that we would finish up like this?’

Alice felt the urge to be a little more positive. ‘We’ve both got the careers we wanted. We’re both happy in our work—well, I am and I think you are. You’re obviously very happy with Fiona. But…’ Her voice trailed away.

He had always listened carefully. ‘But what?’ he asked.

‘Just but.’ She didn’t know what to say and he now had that alert look that she remembered so well. What could she say? And then she was saved as the baby alarm sputtered into life. Fiona was crying.

Ben jumped to his feet. Alice said, ‘Ben, let me go. I can tell that cry, she’s not going to go back to sleep easily. You’ve had a hard day, you look worn out. And I’ve had things easy.’

‘But you’re a guest here.’

‘Ben! Let’s get one thing straight. We’ve both got specialities and this one is mine. In this I’m more experienced than you, I’ve nursed hundreds of children who are in this state. I’m better at this than you are, Ben, and I expect you to recognise it.’

He shook his head and smiled. ‘What did I say to you earlier about you used to be decisive? I understated the case. Yes, I am tired. And if you can get my little girl off to sleep, that would be wonderful.’

Alice nodded and left.

It wasn’t easy getting Fiona to sleep again. She was hot so Alice sponged her down gently, then put her in fresh pyjamas. Still no sign of sleep—so of all things Alice tried singing to her. She had done this before. Not a good idea if you had more than one child in a ward—but if you were one to one sometimes it worked well. She sang a couple of lullabies that had been sung in the islands for years. And Fiona slept.

Ben crept quietly into the bedroom when Fiona was nearly asleep. Alice put her finger to her lips, waved at him to be silent and to sit on the single bed in the corner of the room. And soon Fiona was asleep.

Alice went to sit by Ben. ‘She’s going to have a bad night,’ she said. ‘She’s going to wake often, probably be sick again. She’s going to need attention so I think I ought to sleep the night in this bed to be near her.’

‘I can’t ask you to do that!’

‘You didn’t ask. I offered. Ben, you know it makes sense. You’ve got to work tomorrow, I don’t. I suspect this fever will be over by then, Fiona will be quiet and sleep most of the day. If I want, I can sleep through the day as well.’

‘But I’m her father! You’re a guest.’

‘You’ve said that already. Looking after Fiona will make me feel that I’m earning my keep. Besides, I want to look after her.’

Ben looked at her speculatively for a moment. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll accept your offer.’

He went over and looked down at his sleeping child. Alice wondered at his expression and then she remembered. Once he’d looked at her the same way.

Not exactly the same, but similar. And always when he’d thought she wasn’t looking at him. As if everything he could want in life was there. Alice shrugged, angrily. She must be tired too, having foolish thoughts like these!

They decided that Fiona could be left alone a little longer and went down to the now dark living room. For some reason they didn’t turn on the lights, but sat there with only the light of the moon reflected off the sea. Alice was pleased that all she could see of Ben was the vague shadow of his body. She didn’t want to have to look at his face, she thought she could read too much in it. And who knew if she was reading right?

Ben seemed to sense her mood, to realise that knowing he had been married and was now divorced had disturbed her. After a while he said, ‘I’ve no right to feel disappointed with my life. I’ve made a bit of a mess of things—but I’ve got my work and I’ve got Fiona. That’s more than a lot of people have. Perhaps I should be grateful.’

Alice liked him for what he had just said, but she felt a bit left out of things. So the only reply she could make was, ‘Perhaps you should.’

Ben seemed to hear the implicit criticism in her voice. He asked, ‘Who or what have you got that is important, Alice? What is dearest to you?’

‘I’ve got this job that I’m very much looking forward to. In a year’s time I’ve been promised a job in London. I’ve got my career and that is enough.’

‘But you have nobody special?’

‘You mean have I got a man in tow? No, I have nobody. Like you’ve I’ve tried it and it didn’t work. So
being without is the way I like it, being alone saves trouble and energy.’

‘That seems a bit extreme. How did you—?’

Alice sighed quietly to herself. She was tired, she didn’t want this conversation. The last thing she needed was to share her feelings with a man who had just told her that he didn’t trust people the way he used to. Why had he picked that word ‘trust’? It meant so much to her.

She was saved by Fiona again. There was another wail from the baby alarm. She said, ‘Why don’t you go up to her bedroom and stroke her head for a while? I’ll go to my room, get ready for bed and come there in twenty minutes. I noticed that the bed was made up so I can get straight in.’

‘Right,’ he said.

Alice went to her room, had the swiftest of showers. Now, what to wear? She only had a small selection of clothes with her, all she had to sleep in was a long T-shirt with the words ‘Cuddle me, I’ve had a hard day’ printed on the front. It would have to do. She put it on, wrapped her dressing-gown around her. Not the woollen one she would wear in winter but a light silk gown. She had been expecting to sleep in her own bedroom or a hotel. This gown clung to her, she felt just a touch exposed as she walked down the corridor.

Ben had got Fiona nearly to sleep. He looked at Alice, she thought she saw a flash of something in those wonderful grey eyes—but it was dark in the room. Perhaps she had been mistaken.

He said, ‘My room is right next door. If there’s any problem—’

‘Ben, I’ve told you I’m fine. Now, switch off the baby alarm and go to sleep.’

One long last look at her and he was gone.

Alice went over to look at the sleeping Fiona and shook her head. This is not the way I had anticipated looking after Ben Cavendish’s child, she thought. Then she went and slid into her bed.

There was one last thought. Why had Ben been so keen to offer her an explanation of his past? To tell her that he wasn’t the old Ben, but a much harder version who would never trust a woman again? Was he trying to warn her against something? Or perhaps trying to strengthen his own resolve? Perhaps there were memories of feelings for her that he wanted to repress before they came back. Now, that was an interesting thought.

And what about her feelings for him? Well, there were feelings—but she didn’t want to think about them too closely. He was still a very attractive man.

Time she went to sleep.

S
HE
was woken up three times in the night but she had learned the nurse’s trick of going straight back to sleep when it was needed. Fiona was at her worst at three in the morning—but after the last ten minutes of crying, it was obvious to the trained eye and ear that she was improving.

She was a little put out however when she had to be gently woken by Mrs McCann—cup of tea in hand. ‘How’s the bairn?’ she whispered.

Alice blinked weary eyes, swung her legs out of bed and reached for her dressing-gown. She padded over, felt Fiona’s forehead. ‘Getting better,’ she said. ‘Fever is definitely down. Today she’ll be a lot better. We’ll let her sleep as long as she wants.’

‘Dr Cavendish says would you like to go back to your own room and stay in bed a while? I’ll look after Fiona for the rest of the day.’

Alice shook her head. ‘No. I’m a nurse, I’m used to getting up in the night. I’d best get up now. Besides, I’m here to work, not sleep.’

Mrs McCann looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I thought you were a guest. But I prefer someone who will work.’

You’d not find that kind of comment from a housekeeper in London, Alice thought with a secret grin.

Mrs McCann went on, ‘I’ll serve you breakfast in twenty minutes with the doctor.’ Then she tiptoed over to look at the sleeping Fiona and was gone.

Alice went back to her own room, quickly showered and dressed. Today a dark linen trouser suit, she wanted to look slightly formal. And as she dressed she thought about the last twenty-four hours. She felt a bit…not uncomfortable but unsure of what she was doing. Whatever she had expected, it had not been this. She had been thrown into Ben’s family life and she wasn’t sure it was good for her. Of course, it was good to see something of Ben, and she really liked Fiona. But she needed to take charge of her own life again.

She went back to have a quick look at the still sleeping Fiona, and while she was rearranging the bedclothes there was the gentlest of taps on the door. It was Ben, dressed in dark trousers, white shirt but with no tie.

Alice felt a sudden tightness in her chest. There was the shock of recognition, a brief remembrance of feelings now fifteen years old. There was also the recognition that Ben was now different—but still a very attractive man. She thought she would have to be careful. She had just got over being betrayed by a very attractive man. Got over?

She sniffed. Stupid thoughts so early in the morning!

‘Are you sure you’re all right, getting up?’ Ben asked after he too had been to peer at his daughter. ‘Mrs McCann said you were determined to.’

‘I am. I’m fine. And Fiona seems a bit better to me. She’ll be all right in Mrs McCann’s care today.’

With the most tender of fingers Ben stroked a curl from Fiona’s forehead. ‘Did you have a disturbed night?’

Good, they were playing doctor and nurse, not Ben and Alice. Right now this was the way she wanted it. ‘Not too bad. She woke up three times. I got her back to sleep quite quickly each time.’

‘Quite quickly?’ he asked with a small smile, and she realised that he didn’t quite believe her.

‘Nothing I couldn’t cope with. I feel fine now.’

There was silence for a moment as he studied her and then he said, ‘Breakfast is ready when you are. Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to take it easy?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t come here to take things easy. I came here to work. Are you going to the surgery this morning?’

He nodded. ‘Just as usual.’

‘Could you take me into town? Drop me off at the clinic where I’m supposed to work? I know I’m early but I’d like to look around.’

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ he said.

It was what she wanted. Or what she needed, which was different. She felt that her life since her return had been too wrapped up in Ben and his family. It had happened by accident. But now she needed distance, needed time to remember who she was.

Yesterday, on the drive out of town, she had been too shocked at meeting Ben to pay too much attention to her surroundings. Now, as they drove back, there was time to
look around. First, a careful study of the hills that backed the town. All the locals did this first thing in the morning as the hills tended to reflect what the weather was going to be. And today the weather was going to be fine.

Once again, memories came crowding back, she couldn’t help herself. She had to talk to him, to share. ‘Look, that’s where I had a puncture in my bike tyre. On our first trip out to see the house. We hadn’t known each other very long—well, not that well. You showed me how to mend the puncture, putting the inner tube in that stream so the bubbles would show where the hole was.’

She was silent a while and then said, ‘You never see people mending punctures in London. Well, not by the roadside. I suppose they must have them.’

‘I suppose so. I think I remember the puncture,’ he said shortly.

But now she remembered more than the flat tyre. ‘It was warm. When it was mended we sat in the sun for a while.’

Then she decided not to say any more. They had done a little more than just sit in the sun. He had kissed her once or twice already. But then he had…and with her definite compliance… It had been only a childish fumble but it had been exciting and frightening and so good. A different age! In London she had dealt with girls of that age who were now having their second child.

Glancing sideways at him, she saw the set face. Obviously he remembered too. But he wasn’t going to remember it with the same joy as she did. Why not? After a while he said, ‘They were good times, but we were young then. We have more sense now.’

‘It would be nice to think so,’ she said.

Then there was silence as they drove the rest of the way into town.

On the outskirts of town they passed a large old house that had been home to Ben and his father. A surgery had been built onto the side of it. But now the house had been extended even further, the garden had been converted into a car park and there was a sign that said ‘Mountain View Hotel’.

‘Your old house is a hotel?’ Alice queried.

Ben laughed. ‘We have to move with the times. You’ll find the new surgery much more convenient.’ And, ten minutes later, she did.

They drove into the forecourt of a set of buildings that were obviously new, but faced with the local grey stone. Alice looked on approvingly. ‘Welcome to Soalay Medical Centre,’ Ben said. ‘That entrance is to my little kingdom—the surgery. Over there is your entrance and your part. There’s the clinic, and next to it your new birthing unit, with your flat built over the top. So we’re together but separate. We even have separate receptionists—though you will share yours with the district nurse.’

‘Together but separate,’ she echoed. ‘Right.’ She wondered if he was talking about their relationship as well as their places of work. She didn’t know.

‘I’ll take you in and introduce you to Morag Watson, she’s the district nurse here. She’ll show you around. Then I’ll leave you with her because I’ve got morning surgery. Meet for a coffee at lunchtime?’

‘I certainly won’t need any lunch after that breakfast,’ she said.

Ben had a ritual at work. He arrived early, said hello to his receptionist and picked up any messages. Then he sat alone in his room, drank a large coffee, read his mail and thought about the day ahead. Although he was always busy he gave himself just fifteen minutes—and usually found it fifteen minutes well spent. And today he had more to think about than usual.

He had to think about Alice. When he had first seen her yesterday, windblown on the deck of the ferry, he had been amazed at how memories of the past had come hurtling back. He had not seen her for fifteen years, she had slowly passed out of his memory. His life had been full, he’d had other things to think about. But suddenly it had all come back. He remembered her as a schoolgirl and him as a schoolboy. They had worked together on their science homework. They had quartered the island on their bikes. And then he remembered their youthful fumblings. A voyage of exploration that now came back to life with a force that was almost painful. A kiss then had been so sweet! When she had talked about mending the puncture he had known that the puncture had not been the thing uppermost in her mind. That had been the first occasion he had slid his hand under her shirt and… What would that be like now? He mustn’t think that way!

He drank his coffee, tried to calm himself. Alice was different now. He could still see the schoolgirl she had been, but she had changed. Some of the gawkiness had gone, her curves had matured, she was now a woman, not a girl. He suspected that the haircut that looked so simple and artless was quite expensive. It was quite different
from the close crop she’d had when younger. Her face too had changed. He suspected there was sadness there—or perhaps just experience. Then it struck him. Her face had always been attractive—perhaps in an unformed way—but now she was classically beautiful.

Today was unusual. Every morning he had a cup of coffee and it lasted the fifteen minutes he needed as his thinking time. But now the coffee-cup was empty and he needed another—after just five minutes. Things were bad.

He fetched himself another coffee and sat at his desk again. He just wasn’t facing up to the present situation. He had been instantly attracted to Alice when he had seen her again. But was this just a hangover from the feelings of his youth? And another thing. He was divorced. Getting divorced had hurt, he had tried, really tried, because he thought that marriages should last. So now he was wary, the last thing he needed was another love affair. He remembered the expression—‘on the rebound’. Well, he was a man, not a tennis ball.

Then he had to smile. For a moment he had been thinking that all he had to do was decide himself what happened between he and Alice. But what were her thoughts? She’d made them very clear. The last thing she needed was a man. She felt exactly the same as he did. There was no problem.

Alice had intended to look around her new premises, perhaps look at her flat and see how it was getting on. She wanted to ease herself into her new job. She thought she needed a bit of time alone to see what she was about to do. But she wasn’t to be alone. The person with whom
she would share the new premises was already there. Ben made the briefest introductions and then left.

There was no problem. Alice knew at once that she was going to get on with Morag Watson, the district nurse.

Morag was in her fifties and in spite of having spent eight years on Soalay had lost none of her Glasgow accent. ‘Born in Glasgow, trained in Glasgow, worked in Glasgow,’ she told Alice. ‘Then I thought I’d come to the islands and take things easy for a while. Easy? It would have been easier joining the Scots Guards.’

She hustled through the set of her own well-appointed rooms, showing Alice where everything was kept. ‘Now, I’m hoping there’s going to be no territorial problems with medicines and dressings and rooms and things like that. I want to use anything of yours that I haven’t got and I’m expecting that you’ll make free with what is technically my—’

There was banging that appeared to come from the front door. ‘I suspect we’re in business,’ Morag said as they hastened to open it. ‘Come on, you might be able to help.’

‘But I can’t help. I’m not insured yet and—’

‘Are you going to tell that to that child who is wailing outside?’

At the front door was a tearful, white-faced mother, obviously shocked, clutching an even more tearful child. ‘I know you’re not open yet,’ she sobbed as Morag opened the door, ‘but…’

Morag pulled the woman inside. ‘Take the child,’ she said to Alice.

The woman went on, ‘Angus there pulled at the kettle
when I was not looking. I jumped to grab him but he spilt boiling water all over his chest and my hands.’

‘We can see to it,’ Morag said. ‘Now, come through and sit down in the clinic. Alice, can you deal with Angus there?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Alice, reaching for the child. Morag was right. There was no way she could worry about insurance when there was a child in pain and she had the means to deal with that pain.

‘You’re Mrs Allan, aren’t you?’ Morag was saying. ‘Eileen Allan? I’ve seen you in the clinic here. Tell me, Eileen, what did you do when you first got scalded? Did you put any ointment or anything like that on the burns?’

‘No. I saw this programme on television, it said just put the hurt bit under cold running water. So I did that.’

‘How long for?’

Eileen looked confused. ‘Just for a minute. Till my hands felt cold and Angus’s chest seemed cold too.’

‘If it ever happens again, leave them there longer,’ Morag said. ‘Now, sit down here, don’t worry about things, you’re both going to be all right. And here’s a blanket to wrap round you, we don’t want you getting cold.’

She turned to Alice. ‘There’s a gown hanging in that cupboard, it should fit you. Gloves and the burns kit are here. Everything OK?’

‘No problem. I’ve done this before.’ Alice knew that she could cope—easily. She hadn’t expected to start work today, but she could. She fetched the gown and gloves.

‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ she said to Angus, ‘I know it hurts now but we can soon make that hurt go
away.’ It was important to try to soothe Angus, make sure he wasn’t afraid that things were going to get worse.

‘Is he going to be all right?’ Eileen’s tearful voice came from behind her. ‘Is my baby badly hurt?’

At the sound of his mother’s anxious voice, Angus started to cry more than ever.

‘Nurse Muir will look after Angus and do a good job,’ Alice heard Morag say, quite sharply. ‘Now, stop worrying about him and let me look at these hands. Did you know that when I started nursing, the doctor told me to put honey on burns?’

‘Honey?’ asked a startled Eileen, ‘Why on earth use honey?’ Alice grinned. Morag knew how to divert someone who was interfering with a situation.

Quickly she checked Angus’s little body but the only injury was to the chest. She diagnosed the scald as superficial and partial—partial because the total area injured was less than the area of his hand. The skin was red and moist, it looked granular. And it hurt—which was a good thing. A burn that didn’t hurt was serious. The nerves were deadened.