A Very Special Midwife

by Gill Sanderson

  A VERY SPECIAL MIDWIFE

  Gill Sanderson

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  It happened the first time that he saw her.

  It was a Friday evening, and he was to start his new job promptly on Monday morning at the Dell Owen Hospital. But John Bennet, his new obs and gynae consultant, had suggested that he come to the party at the hospital social club.

  'It's for the newly graduated midwives, Mike,' he had said. 'There'll be a lot of the people there that you'll be working with. Meet a few of them informally first. Always a good way to start.'

  Mike had agreed with him. He was new to the hospital, new to the district for that matter, and after five years abroad, he felt new to the country. He wanted to get the feel of the place. And after some time at the party he knew he was going to like it. He felt at ease here, as if he was among friends.

  For the first hour he had sat at John's table and chatted to other senior members of staff. Then he had decided to mingle. There was dancing to quite a good group and perhaps later on he would ask someone to dance, but first he would just amble around and look at the people he would be working with.

  He wasn't a vain man but he couldn't help noticing one or two interested glances from obviously unattached girls. Well, there were more women than there were partners for them. Perhaps, in a few minutes...

  Then he saw her.

  At that moment his life altered. He wouldn't have thought that just one glimpse of an attractive face and body could have had such an effect on him. But it did. And he was lost; he had no idea what to do. It was madness, this couldn't be happening to him!

  What was he to do? He couldn't just stand and stare at her; he had to have some kind of plan, some means of getting to know her. To give himself time to think, he went to the bar and waited to ask for a glass of wine. And he stared at the mirror behind the bar and, unseen, watched her that way.

  When he was given his wine he walked, apparently casually, to stand in the shadow of a pillar and sip his drink. And he looked at her, trying not to be too obvious but unwilling or unable to take his eyes from her. She was gorgeous!

  He hoped she wouldn't notice him, see his all too obvious interest. Well, not yet.

  She was talking to a small group, a couple of younger women, an SHO and Ellie Crane, a senior registrar he had met who had been sitting at the consultant's table. That would give him the right to walk up to the group, to ask to be introduced. But not yet. For a while he wanted just to look at her.

  She was tall for a woman, with raven hair now flowing down to her shoulders. Her dress was a simple grey one. He knew nothing about women's clothes, but this dress seemed rather plain for a party.

  But it worked well. The plainness only emphasised the graceful feminine lines of her figure.

  And her face! He noted large eyes, a generous mouth—just details. In her face there seemed to be a reserve. There was a melancholy about her, even when she smiled. Some kind of mystery. He knew he had to meet her, find out her story.

  Usually, he knew, he tended to be brash. It was a fault. At times he would storm into a situation when waiting and thinking might have been better. But this time he would show more care. Making sure that the girl wasn't moving, he walked back to the consultant's table.

  'Everyone's having a good time,' he said, apparently casually. 'People here know how to enjoy themselves. By the way, who's that girl talking to the SHO and the registrar? Have I met her?'

  He knew very well that they had never met before.

  John shook his head. 'Not yet. But you will. She's one of our stars, belongs half to the local university and half to us. She's the university senior tutor for the midwifery course and she also works on the obs and gynae wards. Moves from one to the other. She's good, dedicated to her job. Her name's Jenny Carson.' John stood. 'Want to meet her? In fact, I've scheduled you to do some lecturing for her. I'll take you over and introduce you.' Then he sat down again. 'Too late. Looks like she's going. She never stays very long at parties.'

  Mike watched her saying her goodbyes. He didn't want her to go. He'd seen her, now he wanted to meet her. But he realised there was something else he really had to know.

  'Going home to her family perhaps?' he asked, as casually as he could.

  'No, not married or anything like that. Apparently no interests apart from work. Concerned solely with her job, dedicated to it. That's the kind of nurse I like. Mary, good to see you!'

  Someone else had come to claim the consultant's attention.

  'See you in a couple of minutes,' Mike said, and quickly slipped away. He wanted to see this Jenny Carson before she left. They were going to work together so he could introduce himself. He might catch her before she left the building. And if he talked to her he might be able to understand his feelings.

  Once or twice Mike had worked high in the Andes, at altitudes where the air was so thin that his heart had seemed to rattle in his chest and it had been difficult to drag in enough oxygen. He had a similar feeling of desperation now.

  Jenny decided she was ready to leave. She wasn't a party person, not now. And when she looked at the eagerly gyrating twenty-one and twenty-two-year-olds, she decided that, at thirty-two, it was time she went.

  Of course, she'd had to come. This was the newly graduated midwives' celebratory party, there were girls here she had shepherded over the past four years. She was pleased with their success, quietly proud of her own part in it. She had congratulated everyone, danced with the consultant and a couple of senior members of staff, had politely refused an offer to go out to dinner. But now it was time to go.

  For the last five minutes she had been chatting to her two prize students—Lucy Stephens and Maria Wyatt. Both had been offered jobs at the hospital, both had accepted. Jenny was glad. The hospital would benefit from employing them. But now she would leave them to enjoy themselves. Her computer waited; she had work to do.

  She picked up her coat from the cloakroom, about to walk out of the club and then she stopped. Just outside were a couple, passionately kissing. If Jenny opened the door she would have to brush right by them. She didn't want to do that, she'd taught the girl and knew she would embarrass her. Jenny sighed. She supposed she could wait a minute.

  She didn't hear anyone walk up so it was a bit of a shock when a male voice spoke right behind her. Cheerfully it said, 'Isn't young love wonderful? I wish I were young again.'

  A man talking cheerfully about love. This wasn't a conversation Jenny wished to continue. Suspiciously she turned and looked at the man who had spoken.

  He was tall, bronzed, a relaxed, easy look to the way he stood. His lightweight grey suit and dark blue, open-necked shirt were casual but elegant. But as Jenny gazed at him, she had another shock. Across his left cheek, from temple to chin, there stretched the whiteness of a scar. The wound that caused it must have been a vicious one indeed. However, it wasn't too disfiguring. But Jenny wondered whether if he wasn't smiling—as he was now—he might look dangerous. He was the kind of man who made her suspicious, but grudgingly she had to admit that he was attractive.

  'Do I know you?' she asked, politely but coolly.

  He held out his hand. 'Not yet. My name's Mike Donovan, I'm the new obs and gynae senior registrar. Apparently part of my job once a week is to lecture some of your students. I was hoping we might have a couple of words about the work. I'm a bit lost.'

  Well, if it was work Jenny was very happy to talk to the
man. She took the proffered hand. 'Jenny Carson, Dr Donovan. I'm looking forward to working with you.'

  And, in fact, she thought she was. This man had a presence, a good voice. If he knew his stuff, he'd be a good lecturer. And if John Bennet had appointed him, he would know his stuff.

  'Call me Mike. You're Jenny. Look, if you don't have to rush off, could we sit somewhere and you could tell me what's involved? I've been in South America for the past five years. I've done a fair amount of training midwives there, but many of them couldn't speak English and much of our equipment was a bit rudimentary. This is going to be different.'

  It seemed a reasonable request to make. But this was really a party and he was a good-looking man. Not a good combination. And she wondered about the polite but undeniably admiring way he was looking at her. Still...

  'I think I can stay for a few more minutes,' she said. Then she wondered why she had said it. She should have gone straight home.

  She had to admit that he got things done. Within moments of her accepting he had escorted her back to the party room, had found a table for two in a secluded corner and had somehow obtained a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  'Just one glass, I'm driving,' she said. 'Now, what do you want to know?'

  'Tell me what academic standard the students start at, what kind of tests they've taken before you offer them a place.'

  He was certainly efficient. His questions were good. After fifteen minutes he knew exactly what was needed of him, exactly how he had to deliver it. And that pleased Jenny; he'd be a worthwhile colleague.

  'I'm a lot clearer and happier now,' he said. 'I'm glad we've had this talk. Now I know what to do when faced with a group of eager young students demanding knowledge. Work over, Jenny. Now, would you like to dance? I'd love to dance with you.'

  It came as a surprise. She had been so immersed in talking about work that she'd almost forgotten they were technically at a party.

  'No,' she said, almost automatically. Then she looked at the swaying bright dresses on the dance floor, the ripple of lights. It did look fun. And she realised she'd been rather rude. 'I don't dance much,' she said.

  'It's easy. In South America dancing is a way of life. I used to love it. Sure you won't try?'

  He was persuasive but gentle, she liked that. And one dance wouldn't hurt. And they were going to work together. So she danced with him, and in moments was transported to a different world.

  She had told him she didn't dance much, and that was true of the past three years. But before that she had never been happier than on a dance floor. And Mike took her back to those times, he was so good! At first he led her carefully and she found it easy to anticipate what he was going to do next. Soon she found herself slipping into old habits. She gave herself to the music, moving her body with a lack of restraint that caused surprised looks from the other dancers.

  There was a long chord from the group on the dais. 'And now,' the leader shouted, 'Latin America time? Let's samba!'

  Jenny made to walk from the floor. 'Don't think I can do this,' she said.

  He held her back. 'But I can and I can show you. The samba is a dance for carnival. At carnival time everyone wears something new—even the poorest girl can afford something, even if it's only a brightly coloured scarf. This crowd looks like a carnival crowd. Look at the colours!'

  'I don't look bright,' she said.

  'Then you must show people that you feel bright. By dancing. Come on, you can sense the rhythm, just follow my steps. I know you can do that.'

  So she did. And after a couple of minutes she was transported again, to a land of music and brightly coloured scarves.

  The music stopped. To her amazement she and Mike were clapped by the others on the floor. She blushed. 'My students are amazed that the old woman can dance at all,' she said.

  'You're not old. Don't ever put yourself down. And your students clapped because they were happy for you and knew you were happy. Now, shall we—?'

  But she knew it was time for her to go. She had acted out of character for too long; she had to revert to the old, serious, distant Jenny Carson.

  'I think I'd better go home now,' she said. 'It's been nice meeting you, Dr Donovan—Mike—but I have things to do.'

  'If you really must, of course. I'll walk you to your car.'

  She was glad that he didn't try to insist that she stay, and so she didn't object when he walked to her car with her.

  It was interesting to observe him as they walked out of the club. He took a deep breath, stretched back his shoulders, thrust his arms out to the side. The simple physical act of walking seemed to give him pleasure. He seemed a man who enjoyed moving, who was happy in his body. Not like— Don't think that way!

  'It's still quite early,' he said as they crossed to the car park. 'I don't suppose I could take you out to dinner?'

  'It's kind of you to ask but no. I have refused one invitation already—and really, I try to keep my professional life and my personal life apart.'

  'I see. A general principle or because of something that happened in the past?'

  He was too bright! He had no right to ask that! And he must have seen the momentary look of pain on her face because he quickly said, 'Sorry. Asking impertinent questions is a nasty habit of mine. I'm trying to stop.'

  They walked to her car in still companionable silence and as she unlocked the door he said, 'You know, I've not bought a car yet. You could drop me off somewhere.'

  She grinned. 'Mike, I'm not a fool. I've met men who wanted to be dropped off before. Why don't you go back to the party and dance? There are lots of nurses there who are dying to meet a man like you. But I've enjoyed talking to you. Goodnight.'

  She held out a hand for him to shake. He took the hand, quickly lifted it and kissed it. He said, 'I won't go back. There won't be another woman there like you.' He said it smilingly, almost as a joke. Then, before she realised what was happening, he leaned forward and swiftly kissed her lips. 'Stolen kisses are the sweetest,' he said. 'Goodnight, Jenny.'

  He stood back as she slammed her car door and started the engine. Then he raised his hand as the car moved away.

  Jenny couldn't get her mixed thoughts in order. She ought to be angry with him. Why wasn't she? He'd kissed her. She hadn't been kissed like that by a man in over three years. Why had she let him kiss her? She had to be brutally honest with herself. She hadn't really objected.

  She could like him as a colleague. She suspected he'd be very competent, very hard-working. But he had this casual air, as if life were a bit of a joke. And Jenny knew very well that life was hard.

  She just couldn't be attracted to him. She was Jenny Carson; everyone knew she wasn't interested in men. But she had quite enjoyed the dancing.

  Mike watched the disappearing taillights and took a deep breath. Perhaps he shouldn't have kissed her. For a moment there the old Mike Donovan had come out, the Mike who would take a chance and go for what he wanted at once and dismiss the consequences.

  Not a good idea right now. He wanted so desperately to get to know Jenny Carson—he should have been more cautious, taken his time. One stolen kiss might have ruined any chance of them getting closer. And made it hard for them to work together.

  But perhaps not. When he had kissed her he had first seen panic flare in her eyes. But then there had been something else. An acceptance perhaps—if a grudging one.

  Perhaps it hadn't been too bad an idea. Perhaps this was some kind of a beginning.

  Saturday morning, Mike felt that life was good.

  He sat in the kitchen of his sister Sue's house, wearing, as ordered, an apron. On his knee was his nephew, three-year-old Sam. Known as Slippery Sam, Sam could wriggle out of anyone's grasp. But for the moment he was happy to sit on Uncle Mike's knee and eat enormous amounts of cereal. Sue was boiling breakfast eggs.

  'I know you tend to fall in love every five minutes,' Sue said. 'Practically every letter you sent home had details of a different girl. But this is a bi
t quick even for you.'

  'I didn't fall in love with them,' Mike protested. 'I just enjoyed their company. I made it clear that I was passing through, that whatever there was between us had to be short.'

  'Yes. I've heard that before, it's every man's excuse. Now, what about this girl you met yesterday?'

  He trusted his sister as much as anyone he knew, but for the moment he wasn't going to tell her exactly how he felt. For a start, it was all a shock to him too.

  'Well, I'm not in love with her either. Not yet. I just found her very attractive and very good to talk to. You say you don't know her?'

  'It is one of the largest hospitals in Europe. I work part time in A and E, apparently she works in Obs and Gynae. Of course I don't know her.'

  'Well, do you know anyone in Obs and Gynae? Anyone you could phone?'

  Sue sighed. 'I've got a friend there. I suppose I could phone and ask if she knows anything. But I'm not promising anything.'

  'Great. I could always rely on my big sister to keep me out of trouble. You say you want to go to the town market today?'

  'Yes. You can either take Sam to the park or the pair of you can come with me.'

  'Train!' shouted Sam through a mouthful of cereal. 'Uncle Mike's taking me on the train in the market.'

  'Looks like town,' said Mike. 'You shop, we'll have an ice cream each. And Sam can go on the yellow train.'

  Jenny was in an odd mood. She had come to the town centre to go shopping, but there didn't seem to be much that she wanted. Perhaps she just needed to keep moving. Now she was in the indoor market, vaguely looking at a clothes shop.

  When she was working as a college lecturer she could wear a uniform or not. She chose a nurse in charge’s uniform which she also wore on the wards. Since she didn't have much of a social life, she tended most of the rest of her time to dress in shirt and jeans. So she didn't have much need for any fancy clothes.

  Now she had stopped at a small shop that sold nothing but belts and scarves. A vast, colourful collection of silk scarves.

  She didn't need a silk scarf. For winter she had a couple of woollen scarves that did her quite well. Why should she need a silk scarf? And then she had to own up to herself that it was because of what Mike had told her the previous night, about even the poorest girl being able to afford a bright silk scarf for carnival. Well, there was to be no carnival in her life. But she could afford a silk scarf.