The Noble Doctor

by Gill Sanderson

  'I can feel the elbow!' she said to Mike. 'Would you like to...?'

  Mike came over, ran his fingers over Astrid's abdomen. 'Just carry on, Lucy, you're doing fine,' he said. Then he moved to where Marc had clapped his arm around the terrified Kevin's shoulders and smiled at Astrid. 'All will be well,' said Mike.

  And at that moment, Lucy eased the forearm into place. 'We can carry on now,' she said to Marc. 'Will you come and apply traction to the baby's head? Upwards this time?'

  She looked at Mike. Now he was in charge. He could tell her to stand back, but he just nodded and said, 'I'll hang around here a bit longer, if you don't mind. Things seem straightforward now.'

  Minutes later, the baby was delivered; a fine healthy baby boy. Astrid and Kevin were delighted. Altogether, a good result.

  An hour later they drank coffee in the nurses' room. It was impossible to be reserved with each other after an emergency like that. They had worked together as a tight team, had anticipated each other's wishes. They had been successful, perhaps saved a baby's life. It was a good feeling and it bonded them. Perhaps only for a short time but, while it lasted, it was good.

  'We work well together,' she said.

  'We've always been good together.'

  Then he stood and she saw him, almost deliberately, assume the same blank face with which he had greeted her recently. They were back to the distant relationship they had had before—the relationship that he had carefully dictated.

  'I'd better go and write up my notes,' he said. 'Sometimes I do more writing than medicine.' And he left.

  Lucy went to the cloakroom, washed her face. She could feel the tears coming. For a while then they had been back to the way they had been before they had parted. And it had been so good.

  Marc phoned her in the early evening about three days later.

  'I thought you'd like to know. Late last night Simone went into labour early and eventually had to have a Ceasarean. But she's produced a little girl and mother and child are doing well. She's going to call her Lucille.'

  'That's a nice name,' said Lucy.

  'There have been frantic phone calls between her family and here. I'm in the middle, trying to mediate. Simone says that if her parents come to visit her, she'll refuse to see them.'

  'Post-partum mothers are always a bit upset,' said Lucy. 'Just give her time.'

  'Yes.'

  He paused, and even though he was on the other end of the telephone line, Lucy thought she knew how he looked. He was harassed, in doubt. But he continued.

  'Simone seems to have very much taken to you. She asked if you'd call in to see her. She'd like to talk.'

  'I'll drop into see her if you like. I know she's been a trouble to you but I rather took to her.'

  'She took to you.'

  'Just one thing. I don't want to visit her when you'll be there.'

  'That is understandable.' She couldn't read his voice. 'Would you like to visit in the evening of the day after tomorrow?'

  They agreed that Lucy would visit and Marc would stay away.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucy had visited Castle Hospital, of course, but never worked there. It seemed odd to go into a postnatal ward as a visitor, carrying flowers and looking anxious. She felt that she should be in uniform, helping these busily hurrying nurses and midwives. She felt out of place.

  'I've called to see Simone Romilly,' she said to a passing nurse.

  'Are you family?'

  'Just a friend. In fact, I'm a midwife who helped her.'

  The nurse winced, then pointed to the end of the ward. 'Good luck,' she said. 'I'm sure you know you'll need it.'

  Lucy hid a grin. Evidently Simone hadn't changed.

  But there was one big difference that was at once obvious. Simone was no longer purely self-centred. She now doted on the tiny bundle in its cot by her bed.

  'Hi, Lucy! Look at my baby—isn't she just the most gorgeous thing?'

  Lucy ran a practised eye over the tiny form. 'She looks pretty good,' she said.

  'I'm calling her after you,' Simone said. 'Lucy into Lucille.'

  'Why me? Why not your parents? Isn't that the French custom?'

  'Because you were there for me, they weren't.'

  'I gather they would have liked to be with you,' Lucy said. 'You'll have to make up some time you know. And Lucille will need grandparents.'

  'Hmm. We'll see. I've got plenty of time to think about the future. Let's consider the present.' Large blue eyes regarded Lucy closely. 'Why did Marc pick you to come to see me in the middle of the night?'

  Lucy felt uneasy. 'We've worked together. And he knew I was... available.'

  'Is that so? Have you known him long?'

  'Just a week or two. But I gather that you've known him all your life.'

  'Yes. And surprisingly I get on with his mother, Tante Clotilde. Has he invited you to Montreval yet?'

  'No,' said Lucy flatly. 'But I've heard him talk about it and I don't want to go.'

  'I like it but not many outsiders do. I'm not surprised he didn't invite you after the evil Genevieve.'

  'The evil Genevieve?' Lucy asked, trying to conceal her interest.

  'She came one Christmas. I thought Marc was quite keen on her. At first she was keen on him. Or perhaps she wanted to be the Comtesse de Montreval, or perhaps she thought there'd be a lot of skiing. There's no skiing. After dark there's nothing. Anyway, Genevieve lasted three weeks then she paid a taxi driver in the village to drive her to the nearest railway station. Didn't say goodbye but left Marc a note saying the place wasn't for her.'

  'I see,' said Lucy. A couple of things made sense now. But she was angry that Marc should have judged her as being no better than this Genevieve. Still... who was to say that she was?

  'And after Auguste's death Marc was carrying an awful lot of guilt,' Simone went on.

  Lucy frowned. She remembered that Auguste was Marc's brother who had died. 'What guilt?' she asked. She didn't want to pry but... yes, she did.

  Simone seemed to want to chatter on. Perhaps she was lonely. 'It was the reason he gave up medicine for three years. When Auguste died, Marc felt he had to run the estate for a while.'

  Now Simone looked genuinely upset. 'Auguste loved the valley and the estate, every wet inch of it. He was never happier than when he was working on it. He was in charge and he loved it. Marc was to leave and be a doctor. Then, one summer, the two of them were working on a steep hillside with a tractor. Auguste told Marc that he could go into the village, there was a birth that he might be able to help with.'

  Lucy saw a tear run down Simone's cheek.

  'Then the tractor overturned and Auguste was trapped and crushed. But he didn't die at once. If Marc had been there, he might have been saved.'

  Lucy blanched at the horror of this story. 'So that's why Marc feels he has to go back?' she said.

  'There's been a Duvallier in the valley for the past five hundred years. Of course he does. Now his mother is running the place, but it's always been agreed that Marc would take over. He has to.'

  'I see,' said Lucy.

  She had learned a couple of facts she wished she had known before. They would have made Marc's decision more understandable. Though it still was unforgivable. But just a little, she could feel sorry for him. Just a little.

  'I'd better go,' she said. 'I'll come back in a couple of nights to see you again.'

  'Will you come with Marc?'

  'I don't think so,' Lucy said.

  A week later Lucy was called to Jenny Donovan's office.

  'Have a seat, Lucy,' Jenny said, 'Help yourself to a drink first.'

  Lucy poured herself a coffee then looked curiously at the other person in the room. What was John Bennet doing here?

  'You've been a full-time paid midwife for over a year now,' said Jenny. 'How's it going?'

  'I'm enjoying it and I'm learning all the time,' said Lucy.

  'Getting wide experience?'

  Lucy thought of the diff
erent jobs she had done in the past few months. 'You could say that,' she agreed.

  'We're getting good reports on you,' John said. 'You're an asset to the department. Now how well do you know Simone Romilly?'

  'Simone Romilly? Dr Duvallier's cousin? I've just met her once or twice.'

  'Once under rather intriguing circumstances, I gather,' said John. 'However, you made a considerable impression on the young lady. Which is more than anyone else has.'

  Lucy looked at him warily. Where was all this leading? 'What's this to do with me?' she asked.

  John steepled his hands. 'Her consultant at the Castle Hospital phoned me—in fact, he's a friend of mine. This is all unofficial, you understand. Simone had a hard birth but has made an excellent recovery.

  However, there are now psychological problems. And they are made considerably worse by the fact that there is this ongoing row with her parents. The social workers have been in to see her and have got nowhere. The consultant daren't discharge her. And yet he desperately needs the bed.'

  'Simone likes her own way,' Lucy agreed.

  'Yes, Miss Romilly is an awkward customer. But she has told the consultant she will move out of the hospital. She will go—not home, but to the home of her aunt, Dr Duvallier's mother. Apparently they get on well. Madame Duvallier is willing to take Simone, to look after her.'

  'The problem seems to be solved,' Lucy said. 'How does it concern me?'

  Calmly, John said, 'Miss Romilly won't fly. She says it scares her. The only way she will go home is if Marc drives her across France and you go with them as accompanying midwife.'

  Lucy was enraged but somehow she managed to contain her anger. 'Too bad,' she said. 'Tell Dr Duvallier I'm just not interested. He can find someone else to accompany his cousin.'

  She could see that Jenny was at first surprised at her reply. But then she frowned and nodded as if she understood. So now another person knew her secret!

  John remained calm. 'The suggestion has not come from Dr Duvallier,' he said. 'In fact, he knows nothing whatsoever about it. The suggestion came from my colleague at the Castle. He believes this would be in the best interests of Miss Romilly and her child, and it would also free up a bed. I said I'd put it to the two people involved—you and Dr Duvallier. The decision is entirely yours.'

  'You haven't asked Dr Duvallier? He knows nothing about this?'

  'Nothing,' said John. 'But let's ask him now. He's waiting for me in the next office.' He lifted Jenny's phone, dialled a number and said, 'Would you come through, Marc?' Then he looked at Lucy, his expression placid.

  It was obvious that Marc didn't know what was going on. He came in, looked surprised to see Lucy there. Then his face settled into the set expression that she knew so well.

  'You wanted to see me?' he said to John.

  'Indeed I did. I've been in touch with your cousin's O and G consultant at the Castle Hospital. Your cousin, Simone Romilly, says she will go back to France to stay with your mother. But you and Midwife Stephens here will have to take her. I presume you will travel in your car.'

  Lucy saw Marc's face go white with anger. 'It's an imposition to try to drag Midwife Stephens into my family affairs. It's not fair to her. My cousin is a conniving, manipulative wretch.'

  'True,' John said amiably. 'They think exactly the same at the Castle. But the medical and psychiatric opinions there are that her condition and that of her baby would improve if she got what she wanted.'

  'Impossible,' snapped Marc. 'Midwife Stephens just cannot be asked to be involved.'

  Lucy decided that it was time that she made a decision. She didn't like having her fate decided by other people. 'If it is in the best interests of the mother and the baby... I'm not happy but I'm willing to go.'

  'You wouldn't be leaving your job,' said Jenny. 'Escorting babies is part of it. And we can arrange with the Castle that they pay for you.'

  'Dr Duvallier, now it's up to you,' John said to Marc. 'And may I say that I think it in the best interests of all concerned—especially the baby—if you agree. But it will have to come out of your holiday time.'

  There was silence. Now he knows what it's like to be trapped, Lucy thought. Whatever he wants, he daren't go against a statement like that from his consultant.

  Finally Marc said, 'That is a very kind offer, Midwife Stephens. I know what it must have cost you. Of course, I accept. When will my cousin and her baby be ready to be moved?'

  'Tomorrow,' said John.

  Lucy walked across to her room at the end of her shift, wondering what she had done. After their break-up she had tried to avoid Marc, and when they had to speak it was kept short and professional. But each time she saw him it was the same. She felt a great surge of emotion—part anger, part sorrow, part love. How could he have deserted her? Why had she agreed to be close in his company for three or four days?

  It was to get her used to the idea of them being apart, she decided. If they worked closely together, they would become nothing but colleagues again, being lovers would be in the past.

  It would hurt, but ultimately it would be good for her. But there was one thing she had to remember. Whatever happened, she must never, never, never hope to have him back. That way lay madness.

  Chapter Nine

  The great black Mercedes headed down the M6. Good thing it was so big, Lucy thought. She wouldn't want to be cramped.

  The four of them were surprisingly comfortable. Marc was driving, Simone by his side, seat reclined, apparently asleep. Lucy was equally comfortable in the back seat, with the baby in the carrycot firmly strapped by her side. In the boot were three small suitcases, one each for the adults.

  Simone had objected strongly that she could not possibly manage with only one tiny suitcase. But Lucy and Marc had insisted. They needed the room for the pram, the cot, baby clothes and all the other necessities that the baby could need.

  'It's surprising how quickly you can organise things when you put your mind to it,' Marc said quietly to her. 'I wouldn't have thought it possible.'

  'It's only really a long weekend for me. If you can arrange for me to be taken to Lyon, I can fly back to Manchester and be home again in four or five days.'

  'You won't be tired by having to sit in a car for hours on end?'

  'I went to Spain by coach once,' she said, 'A nonstop trip of twenty-four hours.'

  He winced. 'This trip will be a little more civilised than that.'

  She was pleased that she could talk to him in this casual, offhand way. Perhaps the trip wouldn't be too harrowing for her. And she had forgiven Simone. Simone was just... Simone. She didn't function as other people did.

  She leaned forward, looked down at her charge. 'You all right, Simone? Comfortable?'

  'I'm asleep,' muttered Simone. 'Leave me alone. I just want to sleep.'

  'Simone has a reputation for always sleeping on long journeys,' Marc said dryly. She'll sleep all the way if you let her.'

  'Anyone nursing needs all the sleep they can get. We'll be up at three this morning while you're in your bed.'

  She had wondered how she would conduct herself so close to Marc. But, of course, she wouldn't be too close. They had a mother and child with them. It was hard to think of two more efficient chaperones.

  She said, 'I'd like the chance for Simone to feed the baby and change her in two and a half hours or so. Can you arrange that?'

  'No problem. There'll be a motorway stop somewhere.'

  'I'll take Lucille into the Ladies'. They always have a changing station there.'

  'There is in most Men's these days,' he said, which surprised her. But, then, why not?

  'When will we cross the Channel?' she asked. She had left all the travel arrangements to him. Her job was solely to look after the mother and child. And so far it had been easy.

  'We're booked to go through the Channel Tunnel at nine tonight, although we might get there a little earlier. Once through the Tunnel I've booked us into a hotel that is only ten minutes' drive away
. But if you don't mind, we'll live on coffee and sandwiches until we get to the hotel.'

  'You should know, I'm a midwife, I eat in hospitals,' she told him. 'That's practically my regular diet. Will you want me to drive at all?'

  'No!' He was emphatic. 'Not that I don't trust you. But I think that we all should have our own jobs.'

  'As you like,' she said, yawning. 'But now I think I'll join Simone and sleep. I was up late last night.'

  She wondered if she'd be able to sleep. But she wriggled and got comfortable and closed her eyes. This was the third time she had slept while Marc had been driving. Always she had felt comfortable, happy to leave it all to him.

  Before she managed to doze, she thought that it was odd—she was going to France, with Marc. Once she had wondered whether it would be a trip that they would ever make together. How would she get on with his mother? Well, now she was going to France with him. And she didn't have to get on with his mother. And so far she was coping.

  It happened after about half an hour. They passed a heavy lorry or something, the car shook slightly and she opened her eyes. She found that she was staring straight into Marc's eyes—in the rear-view mirror, that was. She wasn't sure of his expression, but it altered at once and he looked away. She was sure that the mirror hadn't been tilted that way before. He had altered it so he could look at her. She wondered why. But his expression had been odd. Half sad, half longing. She went back to sleep, she didn't want to think about it.

  It was a surprisingly easy journey. They stopped at three-hour intervals. Simone fed the baby. Lucy checked her and then took her to change her if necessary. Marc accompanied her, carrying the expensive carrycot and then waiting outside the cloakroom. Then they all had the promised coffee and sandwiches.

  By the end of the day, as they were approaching the tunnel entrance, Lucy was weary with travelling. Simone and Lucille both slept almost solidly. And Marc drove on in stolid silence.

  She thought this was good. She didn't want to be forced into any kind of intimacy with him. If he didn't talk, then she wouldn't be reminded of how things had been between them. She could manage.