The Midwife And The Single Dad (4 page)

In the burns kit there was paediatric paracetamol syrup, Alice gave him a dose and then made a note of what she had done. She covered the burn with the recommended powder and then a loose dressing. The skin was the natural barrier against infection in the body. Far too many burns resulted in a more serious infection.

‘There you are, Angus,’ she said, tucking a blanket round him. ‘Just lie there and sleep if you can. We’re going to keep you here for a while and then you can go home with your mummy and everything will be all right.’

She looked up, saw Morag silently pointing at a drawer. Alice opened the drawer and grinned—there was a set of tiny teddy-bear badges, each teddy bear with a bandaged arm and leg. She took a badge. ‘And this is for you for being brave,’ she said.

Angus looked down proudly as she pinned the badge to his coat.

‘Angus is fine now,’ Alice said to Morag and Eileen. ‘The burns should have healed in ten or twenty days.’

‘So we’ll all celebrate,’ said Morag. ‘Three cups of tea and an orange juice.’

Just before lunchtime there was a call for Alice from Ben’s receptionist. Ben would have to work through his lunch-break so there would be no time for coffee. Could she stay with Morag? And there had been a phone call from Mrs McCann. Fiona was quiet but doing fine.

‘There’s always work here if you look for it,’ Morag said. ‘Especially for Dr Cav. He seems to go out of his way to look for work so I’m hoping you’ll make his life easier. Anyway, enough of medicine—come and look at your flat. It’s still like a building site but you can get some idea.’

Well, it had been a building site but now it was nearly finished. Alice thought it was wonderful—compared with the nurses’ accommodation in London it was a palace. It was in an extension of the main building, on the first floor above her new birthing unit. She had her own living room, kitchen and bathroom. There was a big bedroom and a smaller one that could be used as a study. The furniture seemed to be tasteful but unfortunately it
was piled up in the centre of the living room and covered with a large white sheet. A decorator was working industriously, painting the living-room walls a pleasant shade of yellow.

‘Be about another week before we’re finished, ladies,’ he said. ‘There’s a bit of plumbing to sort out and then the carpets to fit.’

‘I’ll be watching you, Henry Chappel,’ Morag threatened. ‘Make sure you do a good job.’

‘Don’t I always?’ The painter winked at Alice.

‘You’re not bad,’ Morag allowed. ‘But we’ll be in every day to see how you’re getting on.’ When they had gone downstairs she asked Alice, ‘What do you think of the place?’

‘I think it’s wonderful. And who chose the furniture? It’s just right.’

‘Dr Cav chose it. Said he’d seen too many medical buildings ruined by letting a committee choose stuff. Now, let’s go and look at your birthing unit.’

Alice had already seen the specifications of the unit, but it was different to see it already built. Her very own MLU—midwifery-led unit. There were two delivery rooms, an assessment room, a larger room to be used as a clinic. There was an ultrasound scanner—she had gone on a year-long course to be trained to use the machine.

‘You’re going to be your own boss in here,’ Morag commented. ‘Your new mums will be perfectly happy here, they’ll have individual one-to-one care. I bet once people hear about this place that the town birth rate will go up.’

‘I’m not sure that’s the purpose of the exercise,’ Alice said.

But she was very happy with the place. It fell in line with her own ideas about child-bearing—that the more personal the attention was, the happier the mother would be. Of course, she could only deal with comparatively simple cases. Anyone needing a Caesarean, for example, would have to be shipped to a hospital on the mainland. But most cases were simple and Alice could cope. In fact, there would usually be no need to involve a doctor at all. She was a registered midwife practitioner and so could prescribe the drugs she thought necessary.

Morag led her outside. ‘And last of all—your own private ambulance. Though you’ll use it most for your usual calls.’ It was a long-wheelbase Land Rover, fitted with a bunk and a special carrier for a newborn.

Alice inspected it, open-mouthed. ‘I never expected anything like this!’

Morag nodded happily. ‘Good, isn’t it? Dr Cav fought for it. Said he didn’t want to have to order any more helicopters from the mainland for medical emergencies. Said that this would be safer—and cheaper too in the long run. That man can be convincing when he puts his mind to it. Ever driven anything like this before?’

‘Never. I’m more used to driving an old van at fifteen miles an hour through the streets of London. I even thought I might have to turn into an old-fashioned midwife and travel everywhere by bike.’

‘Those times are gone,’ Morag said half sadly. ‘Are you going to be happy here?’

‘Very. I can’t wait to move in and get started.’

They walked back to Morag’s clinic. ‘So d’you fancy working this afternoon? I’ve been having to cover a lot of the midwife’s work and my own work has suffered a bit. There’s three pregnancy examinations you could do.’

‘I’d love to,’ Alice said, and then hesitated. ‘There’s just one thing. I need to know that I’m insured. That it’s all right for me to work. I’ve got to be covered. I’m not supposed to start for a week.’

Morag looked at her curiously. ‘I’m not asking you to do anything drastic,’ she said. ‘No deliveries or anything. Just simple examinations.’

‘I’d still like you to phone Ben to make sure it’s OK.’

Alice could see that Morag was a bit surprised by this, even a little hurt. Then she looked at Alice shrewdly. ‘You’ve got a reason for asking, haven’t you? A definite reason, something that happened not too long ago?’

Clever of her. Alice thought. But she merely said, ‘I’ve learned that it’s always best to be covered. Tell you what, let me phone Ben and explain. He can phone the trust and get things sorted out.’

She didn’t like bothering him but it was something she felt needed to be done. When she got through it was obvious that Ben didn’t think there was a problem either. But he said he’d ask his receptionist to get in touch with the trust and ask their opinion. And fifteen minutes later he phoned back. ‘You’re covered. Have a good afternoon. What do you think of your new home?’

‘Ben, it’s wonderful! I couldn’t have designed anything better myself.’

‘I’m glad you’re pleased. I spent a lot of time working on the plans. Now, you’re coming back with me to stay tonight?’

She hesitated…but it was the obvious thing to do. ‘If you’ll have me,’ she said, ‘I’d love to.’

She found that she was looking forward to going home with him. Then she frowned. Why was she looking forward to it?

Fiona was still very tired but much better. When Alice and Ben got back to Taighean dhe Gaoithe she had been bathed and fed by Mrs McCann but allowed to stay up until she had seen Ben. He put her to bed while Alice sat in the living room and stared out to sea.

She wondered quite what she was doing there. Why was she feeling so comfortable, so much at home? She had come here to be mistress of her own fate, to have her own place to live, her own place to work. To be beholden to no one. And she’d promptly found herself living in the house of an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t a good idea.

A week until her flat was finished? Well, she supposed she could manage that. And then, when she’d moved in, perhaps she’d have a better perspective on things. Life at the moment seemed…odd.

However, a couple of hours later she was feeling slightly different. After a wonderful meal cooked by Mrs McCann (fish landed not three hours before) she was sitting with Ben again and staring happily out at the setting sun. ‘It’s been sunny every day I’ve spent so far in Soalay,’ she said. ‘All two of them.’

Ben laughed. ‘Don’t get carried away by that idea. You must remember the weather here. It can turn from sun to rain in the time it takes you to open your umbrella.’

‘I remember. I’ve packed my waterproofs.’

They sat there for a while longer in companionable silence. In the background were grumblings from Fiona’s baby alarm.

‘We both agree that she will probably sleep through tonight,’ Ben said, ‘so you can sleep in your own bed and I’ll have the alarm in my room as before. There should be no—’

‘She still might wake up,’ Alice said, ‘so I’d quite like to sleep in her bedroom again. Just in case. And if she does wake up a lot, I could do as you suggested and sleep in tomorrow morning.’

Ben looked at her and laughed. ‘You stay in bed tomorrow morning? Do you expect me to believe that?’

Alice sighed. ‘Perhaps not. But, Ben, I do want to sleep in her room tonight.’

She could tell he was thinking, she had forgotten just how shrewd he could be. ‘There are reasons you want to sleep in Fiona’s room?’ he asked quietly. ‘Special reasons?’

She didn’t answer for a moment. Then, ‘Yes, there are reasons. But I don’t want to go into them now. If it’s all right with you.’

‘It’s all right. And if you’re sure you don’t mind… I’m very happy for you to sleep there with her. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as her nurse.’

Alice felt warm at this. So he appreciated her. As a nurse.

They both gazed out at the setting sun again. After a while he said, ‘I only found out about a week ago that it was you who would be coming here. It gave me quite a shock. Our usual midwife-cum-children’s nurse has taken a year’s maternity leave and decided to stay with her husband’s family on the mainland. She said she knew that if she stayed here she’d still work—so it was better to leave. I have to agree with her. Anyway, the trust contracted with an agency to find a replacement, they found a Miss Prendergast. She was very well qualified but she’d spent most of her life working in a town-centre hospital. She was nearly sixty. I liked her but I didn’t think she was quite the ideal for a place where you need to be out and about all the time. Still, we needed someone desperately and I thought we could make things work. Then I got a message saying that Miss Prendergast had dropped out and that you were coming in her place. What happened to her, do you know?’

Alice had to giggle. ‘Sorry, it’s not really funny,’ she said. ‘But just a week ago Miss Prendergast was out walking her dog, tripped over the lead and fell and broke her leg. And I’d just signed on with the agency, offering them a year’s work anywhere. Anywhere as far from London as possible. And they offered me this position.’

‘Why was it important to be as far from London as possible?’

She wasn’t yet ready to explain it all to him. So she just shrugged. ‘I’d been there fifteen years. I needed a rest.’

She suspected that he didn’t entirely believe her. He had always been astute, always able to guess at her feelings. Still, it was a reasonable story.

‘So it was a complete coincidence that you came back to Soalay?’

‘Yes, it was a complete coincidence. And I didn’t know you’d be here until I’d signed the contract.’ She knew that he’d believe that. After all it was entirely true. ‘But I did wonder…can you ever come back to a place when you’ve left it apparently for good?’

‘So have you happy memories of here or not?’

Suddenly they were on dangerous ground. This was a question that could lead to trouble, lead to things being aired that they had both carefully tried to disregard. The peaceful atmosphere that had been in the room suddenly seemed charged with electricity.

She looked across at him, apparently at ease in his seat. He looked as casual as ever but she sensed that a lot would depend on her answer. But she had always tried to be direct. She had to be the same now.

‘Most of my memories are to do with you,’ she said. ‘And they are…happy memories.’

‘We were very close. And I…’

Then she sensed that he felt that he had to back away from anything that might be seen as a statement. An endorsement of the feelings that she knew he had then.

‘But we were children,’ he went on. ‘We didn’t know what we were doing, what feelings were, we didn’t know how the world worked. We had to get away into the wide world.’

‘It did us both good?’ she suggested. ‘It was something that we had to do?’

‘Perhaps.’

Then he said something that astonished her. ‘I felt
that I talked you into going to London—into our parting. I did think it would be good for you. But I always hoped you’d change your mind. I wanted you to come to Edinburgh with me, as we’d agreed. But once you had decided, that was it. I had to respect that.’

It was a shock. She had never known he’d felt that way! She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what she wanted to say. After a while she muttered, ‘I enjoyed the London course, I felt I learned a lot. Things could have been different but I…’

Her voice trailed away. What was the use of talking? She said, ‘I think I’m tired, I’ll go to bed now.’

His voice was soft. ‘Goodnight Alice. You know you don’t have to stay with Fiona, don’t you? I feel I’m putting on you.’

‘I want to stay with her.’

Perhaps she was more tired than she’d thought or perhaps because he had just shocked her by telling her how he had wanted her to stay with him. Was it a good time to share confidences? She just didn’t know. She had walked as far as the door before she made up her mind. Then she turned, walked back and sat down again.

‘I want to tell you one thing, just tell one simple thing. I don’t want any long explanation or discussion. I just want you to listen. Like a doctor and a patient. But I don’t want any medicine or suggested cure. I just want to tell you facts.’

‘I can listen.’ He was obviously intrigued.

‘About six months ago I had a miscarriage at twenty weeks. Just old enough to kick me, to let me know that he or she was there. It was a wanted baby—well, I wanted
it. In my time I’ve counselled lots of women about this. Telling them that things like this just happen. One out of every five conceptions results in a miscarriage. Often it’s nature’s way of telling you that this birth is not a good idea. I used to come out with all these platitudes and I believed in them. But when it happened to me I realised that I didn’t know what I was talking about. It hurts and it makes you afraid. So can you now understand why I want to stay with Fiona. She’s a lovely little girl.’