Family for the Children's Doc

by Scarlet Wilson

‘Do what?’

  ‘Talk about things... Talk about being on my own with Hannah.... Talk about how I wonder if I’m doing things right all the time.’ He leaned forward and pressed his hands into his face. ‘Talk about if I’m letting her down.’

  ‘You’re not letting her down.’ The words were out instantly. ‘Why do you think that?’

  She could see something flit across his eyes. Guilt. Doubt. This was clearly a man who felt he’d let someone down before. The first person to enter her head was his wife. He was a widower. No one had really told her any details. She just knew his wife had died from some kind of terminal disease just after having Hannah. Why would he think he’d let his wife down?

  He hadn’t answered and she tried to push past what she’d just seen in his eyes. ‘You put too much pressure on yourself, Joshua. Every friend I’ve got who’s ever had a child spends their time endlessly worrying that they’re getting it wrong. Haven’t you realised yet that the whole world is just muddling through?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Even the ones who have pre-made meals for a month and a huge blackboard with everything written on it in their kitchen.’

  Joshua’s face relaxed into a smile and he visibly shuddered. ‘Okay, I’ve never done that.’

  ‘See?’ Clara smiled. ‘You’re not doing too badly then.’

  There was something nice about seeing him a little more relaxed than normal. He seemed to settle into the contours of her sofa. ‘I’m sorry you got a fright tonight,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you give me the number of your flat, and your mobile number, so if Hannah ever appears again I can let you know where she is.’

  He pulled a face. ‘It won’t happen again. I’m sorry. Keep the key card. I shouldn’t still have it. Of course I shouldn’t. To be honest, I’d just forgotten about it.’ He looked at his daughter and Clara’s heart panged at the clear look of love in his eyes. ‘I’ll talk to Hannah tomorrow. I’ll tell her she shouldn’t come down here.’

  Clara shook her head. ‘You don’t need to do that. She’s welcome to come down here if I’m in.’ She gave him a smile. ‘To be honest, I liked the company. London’s kind of lonely. And it was the best book I’ve read in ages.’

  ‘You’re finding London lonely?’

  ‘Kind of. You know, we’re in a busy hospital, it’s a busy city, you can’t turn around without bumping into someone but...’ she let her voice trail off for a second while she collected her thoughts ‘... I miss my best friend, Ryan. I miss my old cottage with the sheep that press their faces up against the window.’

  Joshua let out a loud laugh. ‘What?’

  She grinned. ‘Text Georgie; she’s been there over a month. She’ll know all about it by now.’

  His smile stayed for a few seconds, then faded. ‘I guess Hannah’s missing her auntie. She spent a lot of time here. Georgie was Hannah’s partner in crime; the two of them used to gang up on me.’

  Clara raised her eyebrows. ‘Sounds like a job I could embrace,’ she said cheekily. ‘No, honestly, she can come down any time. If you think she needs to hang about with a female for a while or—’ she chose her words carefully ‘—if you need a break and I’m not working, just give me a call.’

  She could see the conflict in his eyes. Joshua Woodhouse didn’t accept help easily. He was wavering. After a few seconds his eyes connected with hers. The setting sun was streaming oranges and reds through the glass across the room. It was like being held in some kind of spell. Her breath was stuck somewhere inside her chest. It was the first time in for ever that she’d felt some kind of connection with someone.

  And she knew it was ridiculous. Joshua was her boss. And, apart from work, she didn’t think they had anything in common. But seeing him like this—exposed, worried, vulnerable—it was a far cry from the confident, smooth consultant she saw at work. This was a normal guy. One who was juggling a million balls in the air and trying to stay afloat. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough leeway. Maybe she’d been too quick to take offence at some of his words.

  ‘That’s a really kind offer,’ he said. His gaze hadn’t left hers. It was steady. And though it was only a few words, it felt like so much more.

  He paused then added, ‘My nanny left around the same time as Georgie and my short-term replacement isn’t working out as well as I would have hoped.’

  Clara nodded. ‘Well, think of me as another option. It’s not a problem.’

  She wasn’t sure if this was her imagination or not, but she could swear there was something in the air between them. A weird kind of buzz. A smile danced across her face. There was something nice about this, relaxing. There hadn’t been much opportunity, between the two of them, to have some quiet time like this. The hospital was so busy—and she found him so frosty at work—that they’d been like ships passing in the night.

  Her heart gave a little skip as Hannah adjusted herself on Clara’s lap. Clara swallowed, wondering if she was mixing up her feelings about motherhood with what she sensed in the air between her and her boss. That could be dangerous. And confusing.

  But Joshua was still looking at her. She wasn’t imagining that. And, as his face started to crinkle into a smile, she was sure she wasn’t misreading the flicker of attraction in his eyes. She’d never pried into his life before. She hadn’t felt the urge. But all of a sudden she wanted to know everything.

  ‘And if you ever need an emergency babysitter for on-calls, remember, I’m just down the stairs.’

  He stood up and leaned close, her nose catching the spicy scent of his cologne as his arms entwined with hers to pick up Hannah. For the briefest of seconds the tiny scratch of stubble on his cheek brushed against hers and she sucked in a breath, feeling her eyes widen as they met his.

  His hand and arms were against the curves of her body as he grasped his daughter and he halted for the briefest moment. For a second their lips were mere inches apart and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. From this close she could see the tiny flecks in his blue irises and just how long his lashes were—completely unfair for a guy.

  ‘Thank you, Clara,’ he said huskily in a voice that seemed to ripple over her skin.

  ‘Any time,’ was her automatic reply.

  He pulled back, lifting Hannah from her arms and heading out of the door of her apartment back to the lift. Her legs took a few seconds to move and by the time she reached her own door she only had a chance to give a brief wave.

  ‘Got to stop meeting like this,’ she whispered as the smooth steel doors slid closed.

  Her heart was thudding in her chest as she shut her own door and leaned against it. Had that all really just happened?

  She drew in a few quick breaths as she crossed the room, pausing to pick up the abandoned storybook still sitting on her sofa. Her hand ran over the back of the sofa, feeling the warmth from where Joshua had been sitting.

  This had really just happened.

  She kept moving, sitting down on the modern cream chaise longue next to the balcony and pulling up her legs to her chest. Part of her felt warm and fuzzy, matching the glow streaming in from the sunset outside. But part of her was a little muddled.

  She’d started to feel a bit better—about everything. Work, the change of scene, her life, and what the future could hold.

  Spending time with Hannah tonight had cemented something in part of her brain. She definitely wanted to be a mother. Whether she had a man in her life or not, if it were possible, she’d love to have children in her future. But was it something she should pursue now, or later? She wasn’t getting any younger. Treatments were tough. And expensive. She had to be realistic about things.

  But should she really push away the chance of meeting a man she could love and spend the rest of her life with? Would any guy she met want to date a woman who was happy to go and do IVF on her own to have a child?

  Things were so complicated. She didn’t want to view any po
tential dates as father material. She wanted to keep things separate in her brain, and in her life. But was that realistic?

  She leaned back on the chaise longue and sighed, letting the warm orange glow bathe her face in its dimming light.

  For the first time in for ever she’d felt a spark of something. She hadn’t even felt that when she’d been dating Harry six months ago. This was different. This was something that made her skin tingle, her blood pulse and the tiny hairs on her body stand on end.

  It made her mouth curve automatically upwards.

  Could it really be a ‘thing’?

  She let out a groan. She was going to have to exercise the thing she struggled with most—patience. And just wait and see.

  Darn it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JOSHUA’S HEAD WAS in knots. One of his doctors had quit. Well, not actually quit. He’d had to leave due to a family emergency back in Portugal. But he’d made it clear he regretfully couldn’t come back, and the space in the rota seemed to be multiplying by the second. Two others had been struck down by the norovirus which was currently storming its way through the hospital, their paediatric anaesthetist had chickenpox—so severe he’d be lucky not to be admitted to ITU himself—and one of his junior doctors was expecting, and it turned out she had one of the worst cases of hyperemesis gravidarum he’d ever seen.

  His pager sounded again and he muttered, ‘I swear, if that’s someone else sick...’

  ‘You’ll what?’ Clara appeared at his elbow, a smile on her face, even though he knew she was run ragged covering here, there and everywhere.

  ‘I’ll probably run and hide,’ he admitted. ‘We’re too many staff down already.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘Don’t you have a clinic?’

  Clara nodded. ‘But Ron’s contacted them all, and I’m seeing them up here rather than at the other side of the hospital. It means that I can keep an eye on the assessment unit too.’

  Joshua stopped walking and looked at her for a second. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  Clara grinned up at him. He breathed in and it was a little shock to the senses. She was wearing that perfume again that reminded him of a garden after a rainstorm. It made him lose the ability to concentrate—hardly good for today.

  They’d come to some kind of truce. He couldn’t quite understand why she’d started off pushing all his buttons in the wrong way, but now he’d taken time to take a step back, be patient and leave his judgement unclouded, he actually quite liked her.

  She’d been so good about Hannah, particularly when he’d burst into her apartment. The conversation that night had seemed to put them on an uneven balance—one that could easily teeter in one direction or the other.

  But she’d rapidly proved herself at work. The rest of the staff liked her, and she seemed clinically sound. On the few occasions he’d brought Hannah into work, Clara had gone out of her way to chat to her and spend time with her. Auntie Georgie’s flat had quickly become Clara’s place, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

  But, more than that, she was just...there. It was as if his senses picked up whenever she was around. He could hear her laugh before he walked through a door, sense her presence in the ward before he ever set eyes on her. She was patient with anxious parents. Good with teenagers. Magical with the terrible twos.

  His brain was trying to deal with the fact that he was enjoying her being around. Maybe it had been that first glance. The shock to the system, realising he’d noticed how attractive she was. The colour of her lips. The curve of her hips.

  Sure, he’d dated a few women over the last year or so. But none that had been special to him. None that had given him that suck-in-your-breath-for-a-moment feeling. He’d kind of forgotten what that felt like and had thought himself incapable of feeling like that again.

  Maybe it was his history. He’d got used to being on his own. It was hard to learn how to trust again when his trust had been so badly broken. It was harder still when he’d loved the person who’d broken his trust completely, and she had loved him. He’d thought he was over things; he was sure he was ready to get back out there. But the slightest hint that the person he was dating wasn’t being completely up front with him was enough to send him in the other direction without a second’s hesitation. It didn’t matter that it was ridiculous. Everyone was entitled to their privacy. But he just couldn’t shake off the underlying conviction that was buried deep down inside of him—a relationship meant no secrets, no lies. It wasn’t just his own heart he had to protect now; it was Hannah’s.

  But Clara? She was dancing around the edges of those thoughts on a pretty permanent basis. Which was a shame, as she was only here for six months and there was no way he’d introduce a potential girlfriend to Hannah unless he thought she might be important.

  So it was easier to keep Clara in a different kind of box—one where he didn’t think about her that way.

  But sitting on the sofa with her a few weeks ago had pushed hard at those boundaries. She was easy with the touching; it came so naturally to her. She probably didn’t realise it had been a long time since someone other than a parent or his sister had touched his hand in that kind of way. With affection. With care.

  Clara stopped walking, spinning around until she was facing him. ‘You didn’t think of it because your brain doesn’t function that way.’ She gave a good-natured shrug. ‘You’re a man. Multi-tasking is a whole new language to you.’ She gave him a wink as she walked away. ‘Anyhow, I’ll never admit it was Ron’s idea.’

  He laughed as she disappeared through the doors. Clara was full of quips. And he liked that. He liked her sense of humour. It reminded him not to take life too seriously, and he needed that when some of the days here were tougher than others.

  Half an hour later she was back, her expression serious. She didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Help,’ she said quickly, ‘I need a second opinion on a kid.’

  He was on his feet in seconds. ‘No problem—what’s wrong?’

  He started walking with her as she rattled off the child’s symptoms and her suspicions. ‘Lewis Crawley is seventeen months—temperature, abdominal pain, drawing his knees up to his chest, jelly stools, vomiting bile...’

  He put his hand on her arm. ‘Clara, stop. What is it? This sounds like a textbook case. Why are you worried? You clearly know what’s wrong.’

  She was the palest he’d ever seen her. Jittery even. Not the cool doctor who’d diagnosed a weird and wonderful disease in the first week he’d worked with her.

  ‘I... I just want a second opinion. And we don’t have our normal anaesthetist. Who will take the case? Who will do the surgery?’

  Joshua stopped and put both hands on her shoulders. ‘Do you know this kid?’

  She shook her head, and he could see the gleam of un-spilled tears in her eyes.

  He had no idea what was going on here. And he’d have to get to the bottom of it. But, in the meantime, if this toddler had intussusception and the bowel had telescoped inside itself it was a surgical emergency.

  ‘Okay, let’s see him.’ The examination took moments. Clara was right with every call. He could see she was trying to keep her emotions in check, so he went back over things with the parents to satisfy himself that they understood what was happening. Then he contacted the surgeon on call for the day, and phoned an alternative paediatric anaesthetist.

  Clara typed up the notes as he spoke, recording every extra detail. She’d done everything she could—even ordered all the tests and completed the emergency consent form with the parents.

  On a normal day, Joshua would have given any colleague a second opinion and then left them to carry on. But this wasn’t a normal day. And he wasn’t going to leave her.

  He waited until both the surgeon and anaesthetist had come up to the ward, and the theatre staff had appeared to take Lewis and his parents down to surgery, then he glan
ced around to make sure there were no eyes upon them, slid his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the nearest room, closing the door behind them.

  The nearest room was the stationery cupboard, not the best venue for a discussion like this. He took his arm away and turned to face her. ‘Okay, Clara, you did everything perfectly. Tell me what’s wrong.’

  She was shaking—her body was actually shaking—and he watched as she dissolved into tears, muttering a curse under her breath.

  Her head was shaking, but her face was covered with her hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just...’ she took a deep breath and dropped her hands and her gaze ‘...panicked.’

  The word struck him as odd for Clara to choose. She was a member of staff who’d proved herself clinically competent over the last six weeks, and panic wasn’t something he’d seen in her before.

  ‘Tell me why you panicked,’ he said steadily. He had to unpick this. If she needed support, it was his job to offer it.

  She leaned back against one of the shelves in the cupboard, taking a few moments before she lifted her dark gaze to meet his.

  ‘I didn’t expect this to happen.’ Her hands were still trembling and instinct made him reach out and take one of them in his own.

  ‘What happened?’ His voice was almost a whisper, just willing her to continue.

  Her eyes closed and she rested her head back. ‘I had a kid, older than Lewis, back in Edinburgh. I wasn’t at work.’ She winced. ‘I had norovirus.’

  Just like today—two staff off with norovirus.

  ‘By the time I got into work early the next day, I saw there had been a kid admitted overnight. He might have been a bit older, but the symptoms were all there. A locum had been covering for us and had dismissed intussusception and was querying a grumbling appendix and had ordered a scan for the next day.’

  She swallowed and a tear slipped down her face. ‘I knew what was wrong with him as soon as I saw him. We got him to Theatre as soon as we could, but...’ she shook her head ‘...part of his bowel was necrosed. Dead. He ended up with a permanent stoma.’