The Midwife And The Single Dad (9 page)

There was one last thing she remembered—perhaps the most important thing. They were lying side by side, holding hands. Still in awe of what they had just discovered. But there was something she had to say to him. She had—they both had—the teenage fear of putting anything into words.

‘Alice, that was so wonderful,’ he mumbled. ‘I was hoping but I didn’t think it would be anything like this, and now I know that I…’

She leaned over, put a finger over his lips. ‘We’re both young, Ben. We’ll have careers to follow soon, we’re not to make any stupid commitments that we could regret later.’

He took her finger in his hands, kissed it. ‘I was going to say that I loved you and that I wanted to—’

‘No! You’re not to say anything! What we have just had is to remain on its own and perfect. We’re to keep it and treasure it but we aren’t to talk about it. Now you can kiss me again if you want.’

So he hadn’t said any more. And whatever her feelings were for him, she had kept them quiet too. That had been so many years ago. And now she wished she had said something then—or allowed him to say something. Allowed him to say that he loved her. Of course, now, fifteen years later, he still could say that he loved her. If he wanted to.

Her eyelids were closing, too much emotion was
tiring. She sipped the last of the champagne, cleaned her teeth and went to bed. But as she slipped into sleep one last thought crossed her mind. She had loved Ben fifteen years ago, though she had never said so. And now she was learning to love him again. She was asleep before she could take the thought further.

T
HE
thought was with her when she woke up next morning. She looked at the sunlight penetrating her curtains, heard the screaming of gulls. Common early morning experiences in summer. But why did they please her so much? Why did she feel so happy?

In fact, she felt the happiness before she worked out why. It had been her last thought the night before. That last minute realisation of something that should have been obvious much earlier. She was falling in love with Ben. Or falling in love with Ben again. Re-falling in love?

So what was she to do about it? Love wasn’t the reason she had come to Soalay, she had needed a refuge where she could find peace. Love didn’t bring peace. Especially if it wasn’t—as far as she could tell—returned.

She sighed as she climbed out of bed. At the moment there was nothing she could do. She would just have to wait and see. And work, of course.

That morning she held a clinic. Four pregnant women from town came in for routine checks. They were all in the last ten weeks of pregnancy and at that stage Alice
liked to see her patients at least once a fortnight. And she told them that if ever there was any cause for alarm to phone her.

They were just routine checks. Blood pressure, pulse, urine sample. More important was to listen to the foetal heart, to palpate the abdomen to ensure that all was going well with the baby. And the constant vigilance to avoid pre-eclampsia—an over-high BP and oedema or swelling, especially of the legs.

What Alice thought was probably most important was the talk she had with the mother-to-be. She would ask about diet, plans for the birth, fears that the mother might have. And it was amazing what important details could come out in the middle of what seemed to be just a casual chat. The trouble was, she sometimes heard things she didn’t want to hear.

The first three mums were fine. Two of them remembered her—vaguely. Alice enjoyed talking to them, felt she was doing her job. The fourth, Merryl Snaith, was a bit different. She was an incomer from the mainland, had been left a house by an old relation and decided to move in. She was a single mother and a bit flash for Soalay. The other mothers-to-be were a bit wary of her. She seemed to wear a bit too much lipstick for a visit to the midwife.

‘I’ve been seeing Dr Cavendish up to now,’ Merryl told her. ‘I decided that if we didn’t have a proper midwife then I’d rather see a doctor than a nurse.’

‘Nurse Watson has probably dealt with far more pregnant women than Dr Cavendish.’

Alice knew her voice was chill, she couldn’t help it.
But Merryl seemed neither to notice or to care. ‘Well, please, give the doctor my good wishes.’ A quick, alert look and then, ‘I heard that you’ve been staying with the doctor? Isn’t it a pity, him separating from his wife?’

Alice knew there was no possibility of keeping secrets on the island, little chance of stopping gossip.

‘I’m very fond of his little girl,’ she told Merryl. ‘I drop in at the house quite frequently to see her. Now, would you like to undress behind that screen and then lie on the couch?’

‘Whatever,’ said the disappointed Merryl.

But, still, she was happy with her morning’s work. She was doing what she liked, what she knew she was good at. And the Merryls of the world only made the other mums more appealing.

After she had finished her first set of examinations, her receptionist gave her a message. Could she phone Dr Cavendish, please? No panic, only when it was convenient. Alice knew when he tried to have his coffee-break so she rang him then. Of course, it would probably be something professional, perhaps someone he wanted to refer to her. Or perhaps he wanted to tell her about the excitement of the night before. Whatever it was, she could feel her heart beating faster and she knew that her cheeks were flushed. She loved talking to him! Still, she had to be professional!

‘All go well last night?’ she asked him. ‘I got your message from Sergeant Cullen.’

‘All went more or less well. I got to the harbour just in time, one man had a fractured femur and I had to reduce the fracture. Otherwise he could have lost the
leg. But we got him to hospital in time and he should be OK. No one who has been drinking should go anywhere near a fishing boat banging against a harbour wall!’

‘Seems to be an obvious truth. But how are you?’

‘A bit tired but that’s part of a doctor’s life, we all know that. Now, I’ve got a problem. I don’t know if it’s a personal or a professional problem and whether it’s for you or for me. Mostly I think it’s an island problem—where everyone knows everyone else. It’s not strictly your work, but I could do with a hand.’

‘Whatever I can do, I will.’ She felt a small thrill. He thought there were things that she could do that he could not.

‘Right. Remember a girl called Ann Fairing? She was in your class at school.’

Alice thought back and after a moment did remember. ‘Yes. She was a small, quiet girl. She was never a particular friend of mine but we got on well enough. I think we liked each other. People used to call her Mouse because she was so quiet. But I’ve not seen her or heard of her for fifteen years.’

‘Well I’ve seen quite a bit of her. She’s now Mrs McCann, our Mrs McCann’s daughter-in-law. She came in earlier today, claiming she wasn’t sleeping, the tablets I’d prescribed weren’t strong enough. She wanted the tranquillisers that I wouldn’t give her, she was worried about her husband, who’s a soldier away in the Middle East.’

‘And she’s worried about her husband getting killed? Well, that’s fair enough.’

‘I don’t think she’s worried about him getting killed. Apparently he’s got quite a safe job.’

‘Perhaps she’s just missing him? I could sympathise with that.’

‘Me, too. She’s got two young children but she seems to be coping with them quite well.’ Ben sounded puzzled, she thought. He went on, ‘She asked something quite peculiar. She asked if there was any way her prescriptions could be sent in by post. I told her there was no need, there was only one pharmacist on the island but she ought to know that he was very good. But it didn’t seem to please her.’

‘Odd,’ Alice said. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Well, she knew you were back. I told her that I could tell that there was something that she didn’t want to discuss with me—perhaps because I was a family friend. But why didn’t she drop round and have a word with you? I said it might be something to do with a specifically female problem and in that case you might be able to help. I’d like to know what’s wrong and I think you might be able to get it out of her.’

Suddenly, Alice felt in trouble. She could have done without this kind of problem. ‘Ben, are you asking me to do something that could be called unprofessional? It sounds like that. This is a terrible thing to say but I told you, I’ve just been through a hard time because I trusted a man—in fact, I loved him—and he betrayed me.’

There was silence. Then, his voice formal, he said, ‘Of course, Alice, it was very wrong of me to ask you. If she does come to see you, tell her it sounds like a problem for the doctor, not you.’

‘Ben! Don’t be silly! Of course I want to help. And you…you are nothing like Sean Evans. Look, leave it with me and I’ll do what I can.’

‘That’s the Alice Muir I thought I knew.’ And he rang off.

Then he rang back again five minutes later. ‘Alice, I don’t know whether this is good news or bad news—but you need to be proud of yourself.’

‘That’s nice,’ she said, feeling a little jerk of excitement at the compliment.

‘I’ve just heard from the mainland hospital, the people who have been looking at Albert Laws. They’ve found a meningioma on his sphenoidal ridge. The surgeon thinks he can excise it.’

‘A meningioma! That’s a benign tumour, isn’t it?’

‘It’s benign. But any tumour in the skull is going to cause problems. The operation will last ten or twelve hours.’

Alice shuddered. This was a branch of medicine she hadn’t dealt with for quite a while. ‘Well, I’m glad we got to Albert in time. How successful…? I mean…’

‘The surgeon is very hopeful and he’s known to be a good man. Seventy per cent of these cases died forty years ago, now we’re down to thirty per cent. That is good progress.’

‘And how is Freddie?’

‘It was Freddie who phoned me. Actually, he’s quite a devoted father. He doesn’t like being wrong—but he asked me to pass on his thanks to you.’

‘Well, that’s something. I think I’ll strike while I have the advantage. I’ll phone and tell him that he has
to make sure that Debbie comes into the birthing unit, instead of having a home delivery.’

‘Great idea. You’re a good nurse, Alice Muir,’ Ben said, and rang off. Alice felt a throb of delight at the praise.

She thought about Ann Fairing—now Ann McCann—all through her lunch-break. At first she couldn’t think of her as Ann, she had to think of her as Mouse. But then she realized this was now a mature woman with two children. Mouse had been a schoolgirl nickname—and not a very complimentary one. Now she must think of her as Ann.

When she sat at her desk again she looked through her notes and found the details of Ann’s two children—the injections they’d been given, the inspections they’d had. Not much wrong at all—but she could always make something sound a little worse. She rang Ann.

‘I see from his notes that your boy Alec had a bit of a problem with a rash that wouldn’t go away. Has it gone now?’

Ann’s voice was wary. ‘He’s had no trouble for a few months. Do you want to see him?’

‘I doubt that is necessary. But why don’t you call round for a chat? Could you come this afternoon? At any time?’

‘I think I’d like that. Yes, I’ll come.’

Alice frowned as she rang off. There was something wrong, she could tell from Ann’s voice.

Ann was nervous—it was more than that, Ann was worried to death. Her face was pale, she fiddled constantly with her handbag. She wouldn’t tell Alice why
she had come, instead she kept referring back to happier days at school. She wouldn’t talk about her husband and when Alice asked about him, she looked even more pale. But Alice felt that she loved him. So what could Alice do to gain her confidence?

Eventually Ann gave her a lead. ‘But why are you back here, Alice? I heard on the grapevine that you were doing really well in London. What brought you back to a little place like this?’

Alice decided that if you want to get you had to give. A confidence for a confidence. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Ann. I made a big mistake. The usual one—man trouble. I picked the wrong one. Then he got me into trouble at work and I felt I had to leave. And I’d just had a miscarriage so I needed a change. A haven. Somewhere where there was no trouble, and I think this place is it. I can be quiet and happy here.’

‘Quiet and happy,’ Ann said. ‘That seems good.’

Alice saw her flinch. ‘Why not tell me, Ann?’ she said. ‘I know there’s something wrong and you know that you’ve got to tell someone. Tell an old school friend.’

Finally Ann broke down. She burst into tears. ‘I didn’t really want to do it and I daren’t tell anybody. And Dr Cavendish is so nice but if I tell him it will go on his notes and they’ll be there for the rest of my life. Besides, he knows me and he’s a friend and I—’

‘You can tell me. I’m not a doctor, you’re not my patient, I don’t take notes. We’re just two old school friends catching up.’ Then Alice decided to take a chance. ‘But I do have some medical knowledge.’

Ann dried her eyes, took a larger handkerchief out of
her bag and blew her nose. Her voice still quavered but she was trying to make it stronger. ‘You know how you can love somebody and yet things just seem to go wrong?’

‘I know,’ said Alice. ‘And especially when you’re parted from each other.’

‘Well, I do love Alec and I always have but…he was away and I was lonely…’

It was a sad story, Alice thought, but perhaps not uncommon. Ann had met a visitor to the island. He seemed nice, they had a brief one-night stand. Afterwards she felt guilty but later on she felt more guilty. And terrified. The signs were certain. She had been infected by some kind of sexually transmitted disease. ‘And there’s this pain in my sides all the time. What if I’ve got AIDS, Alice? What about the children?’

Alice managed to keep her expression neutral. ‘No need to worry about that quite yet.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Did you say you were suffering from pain in your sides? Sort of lower in your body, pelvic inflammation, in fact?’

‘Yes. It’s a dull sort of pain but it seems to be there a lot.’

‘Right. Look, do you mind if I examine you?’

Alice wasn’t a doctor and knew she shouldn’t be acting as one. But still…the chances were that, working in one of the most cosmopolitan areas of London, she’d probably had more experience of this kind of disease than Ben. So she took Ann into the treatment room and examined her. Then she fetched a swab, took a sample. ‘I can do this for you now, but you will need further tests for other diseases. Just sit here and read a
magazine for a minute. I’ll fetch you a cup of tea and I’ll be back in a while.’

It wasn’t a kit that Alice used often. A home testing kit. She would much prefer to send samples to a large reputable laboratory and have the most definite diagnosis possible. But this kit was the latest state-of-the-art development and was guaranteed to be ninety-nine per cent successful.

Alice took the swab, followed the instructions. And then she sighed with relief. This was good news—of a sort. She went back to Ann. ‘You’ve got chlamydia. It’s nasty but if it’s caught early then it’s not too serious and I can get you the medicine to treat it sent in a plain envelope from the mainland. It can come here. It’s an antibiotic. As I remember, it’s doxycycline, a set of pills that you take for a week. And then you’ll be cured.’

‘You can do that for me? Alice, you’re an angel. Oh, and you won’t tell the doctor, will you? I couldn’t bear him to know.’

Alice saw the hope drain from Ann’s face as she didn’t at once give the hoped for answer. But then she made up her mind. ‘No, I won’t tell the doctor. I do think you ought to, I know he’ll be sympathetic. But I won’t tell him. OK? In the meantime, I’ll refer you to a genitourinary clinic on the mainland to be on the safe side.’