'Dr Donovan, I'm Mr Kaye, from Human Resources. I have these forms for you. I want to process them at once. Could you see to them now?'
Jenny saw Mike look at the man and she didn't like the expression on Mike's face. But he merely held out his hand and said, 'Leave them with me. I'll do them when I can.'
Mr Kaye shook his head. 'I really need them now. I'm sure you have time and we're very busy in our office. You can deal with these... students later.' There was dislike in the word 'students'.
Mike looked at Mr Kaye. A hand went up and caressed the scar on his cheek. Jenny stared at the two and even though she was hardened she shivered at the expression on Mike's face. He turned to the two trainee midwives and said, very pleasantly, 'Would you excuse me for exactly thirty seconds?' Then he turned to Mr Kaye, took him by the arm and marched him down the corridor.
Jenny saw them coming, stepped inside a classroom door. She left it partly open so she could, quite unashamedly, listen. Mike's voice was a snarled whisper. Jenny had only ever heard him be pleasant so it came as a shock.
'Listen, you little jobsworth. Our job here is healing the sick and training others how to do it. Everything else comes second to that. Filling in forms comes bottom of my priorities. Now, I will fill these in, when I have time and when I have finished the important part of my work. But for now, go away and file some paperclips and don't bother me!'
Two sets of footsteps. Mr Kaye set off rapidly. Mike went back to talk to the two nurses. Jenny wondered.
'How did I do, miss? Did I pass my practical?' Mike sat in Jenny's office, completely at ease.
'You passed your teaching assessment. Definitely. I hope you don't come to regret the offer you made about answering questions.'
'I won't. I meant every word. Asking questions is the best way of learning. I'm glad you're pleased.'
'I'm not so pleased about the next bit, with the man from Human Resources. Just which school of charm did you go to? That clerk was only doing his job. Why pick on him?'
Imperturbably, Mike glanced at the sheaf of papers in his hand. 'Doing his job? He was enjoying it too much. He didn't realise the importance of what those girls were doing, he was a paper-pushing bully. And, most important, I've already filled in those forms once—in triplicate, as required. He's lost them. Sister Carson, excessive paperwork in hospitals has caused more trouble than most of the viruses I know.'
She sighed. She had to agree with him. Paperwork was the bane of her life. But she'd never thought to challenge any of the Mr Kayes around her. They seemed to work to their own set of rules.
'It's lunchtime,' Mike went on. 'Would you like to come over to the hospital canteen with me? I'll buy you an egg sandwich.'
She shook her head. 'I bring my own sandwiches with me. I sit here and work, and drink lots of coffee.'
'Ah, dedication. If I go out and buy my own sandwich, will you let me work in your office? I think I need to access some of your files. And perhaps you might spare me a coffee too?'
'All right. But I'm not going to spend the time chatting. I do have work to do.'
'Perfect. I'll fetch my sandwich. Back in ten minutes.'
She made the coffee while he was gone, found a spare mug and then sat thinking about him. So far today he had acted like the complete professional. Their two previous meetings had been acknowledged but that was all. Jenny found that a bit disturbing. She wasn't sure what she did want from Mike. She suspected it was a little more than this bland acceptance of her. And he wanted to work in her office.
He returned with his sandwich, she poured him a coffee and showed him where her files were. Then they both settled down to work. Both worked in silence, apart from the occasional rustle of papers.
Her job was important. She had to write assessments of all her students. Later on these assessments would be shown to the students and discussed. It was a vital part of her work; she had to get it right. But just now it was hard to concentrate.
And after a while she found his very silence irritating. She glanced at him; he was absorbed in his work.
He was a handsome man, she thought, lean and muscular. A bit older than her but not by much. Every time she saw him she thought he was dressed well, dressed correctly for the occasion. She liked his voice. She wondered what it would be like if he... Don't think that way! He was just a doctor in her room.
Eventually she could stand the silence no longer. Her voice was snappy as she said, 'You could have worked somewhere else, you know—why my room? You don't need to be here, there are other places far more comfortable. And don't say that you need to refer to my files. So far you've only looked at the one. You could have borrowed it.'
Why did she sound so irritated?
He swung round on his stool. He didn't seem either annoyed or amused. Instead, he looked pensive. He looked at her and after a while said, 'I wanted to be in the same room as you.'
'Why? In case you needed to ask me questions about the course?'
He took a while to answer. Then he pointed to a little mirror, it was one out of her handbag, she had left it flat on the bench. Now it was propped against the back wall. 'Every now and again I look at you in that mirror. It pleases me, you have a lovely face. And you have an aura. When I'm near you I can feel you, feel your warmth.'
She was bewildered. 'What are you talking about? I'm not a warm person; everyone knows I'm supposed to be cool. And this is only the third time we've met. How can you want to be near me?'
'Only the third time we've met? But I can remember every second of those times. And did you know, at the party, just how long I spent looking at you? Before I'd even spoken to you? Jenny, I've never met anyone like you before.'
'This is silly! You can't just... just... form an attraction like that! It takes time. And anyway, what about me? I'm... I'm not sure I...' She didn't know what to say.
He stood, came over to her, picked up her hands in his. It was the lightest of grips but she felt she couldn't make him let go.
'What about you, Jenny? The three times we've met, haven't you felt something between us? Jenny, try to be honest—to me and to yourself.'
It was a challenge. She made a supreme effort, managed to draw her hands from his. 'I don't think about men much at all,' she said. 'I'm happy as I am. I made that decision a while ago.'
'I'm not men. I'm me, an individual. Someone you've just met. And decisions can be altered.'
Her voice was almost a wail. 'But I don't want to change. I told you, I'm happy the way I am. I can do without the heartache.'
'Heartache. Interesting word. Tell me why you used it.'
'No.'
A single short word, but he accepted it in its certainty.
He seemed to be thinking, and Jenny didn't know quite what to do, think or say. Not ten minutes before she had been reasonably content in her life. Now this man had thrown that contentment into question.
'We'll be working together much of this week,' he said after a while. 'I've got a couple more lectures to give and I gather I'm going to be seeing you on the antenatal ward. So far I've got next Saturday off. How about you?'
'I get most weekends off, unless I volunteer for an awkward shift like a Saturday night or something. I often do that. But I'm off this weekend. Why?' She wondered if she ought to ask. 'I hope you're not going to ask me out. Because the answer will be no.'
'Are you afraid of me or afraid of yourself?'
It was a question she didn't want to answer. She kept silent.
After a while he said, 'I need exercise. Real exercise, not pushing machines in a gym. I need to walk.' He smiled at her—it was such ah infectious smile! 'In this hospital I just walk into a ward. A lot of my time recently I've had to climb two or three thousand feet before I can reach a clinic. And I miss it! You've got walking boots, haven't you? And I'll bet you haven't used them for a while.'
The two questions threw her. 'Well, yes, I have got boots, and it is a while since I went on a long walk. I... used to walk a lot. Not
recently, though. But I told you, I don't go out with men. And I don't mix business with pleasure.'
He went on as if he hadn't heard her. 'I want to walk out of the Conway valley, up and around a lake in the hills. You won't be walking with a man, just a person. A friend even. Think of it like that. I suspect you'll love it.'
When she thought about it, the idea of a walk in Snowdonia was attractive. And he was right; she hadn't been out for quite a time. Not even a proper holiday for three years...
'How would we get to the Conway valley?' she asked, knowing she was weakening.
He shrugged. 'I'll hire a car. I'm going to buy myself a new one soon, I just haven't got around to it.'
'If we go, we can take my car. Or are you too proud to be driven by a woman?'
She wondered if he knew this was a test.
If it was a test, he passed it. He laughed. 'In Peru I had the experience of a woman older than me carrying my rucksack because the altitude was too high and I just couldn't breathe. I'm not proud. We'll decide on details later. So, you will come?'
She wasn't even sure herself why she said yes. Perhaps it was because she quite liked Mike, perhaps it was because she'd realised that her life recently had been rather dreary and she deserved a change. And a walk in the hills sounded good. But...
'Mike! This is just two friends going for a walk together. Nothing more.'
'Whatever else?' he asked.
Straight afterwards Mike said that he'd got the facts he needed from her files and there were a couple of things that he'd better check with the consultant. Once in the corridor he let out a great sigh of relief, took out his handkerchief and ran it over his hair. That meeting had been close! He'd tried to appear calm. But if only she knew just how tense he had been!
Still, she'd agreed to spend a day with him. That was a success.
It had been a deliberate decision on his part. Either he could stay as an amiable colleague of Jenny's and try to interest her little by little, or he could try shock tactics. He'd decided on the second. It was a natural thing for him to do. And he didn't want her to see him as just another man she had to work with.
He still wondered why she'd agreed to go with him. Perhaps at long last the ice maiden was thawing out. And as for two friends just going on a walk... well, they would see.
And he still thought she was the most gorgeous thing he had seen in years.
As ever, at home that evening Jenny was working on her computer. She had finished the six-monthly assessments of her students and was checking them against previous assessments to see if there were any problems that needed to be addressed. Apart from the situation with Ann Mallon, which was being monitored, there were none.
She hadn't needed to work. It was displacement activity. Just a way of avoiding thinking about something that was troubling her. Thinking about Mike. How had he persuaded her into going out for the day with him? She didn't go out with men. How had he got her to change her mind?
Her thoughts wouldn't go away so finally she closed the students' files and gazed sightlessly at her screensaver. Silver birds flying over blue seas did nothing for her. What should she do about Mike?
Had it started with that first kiss—only three nights before?
Her thoughts were in turmoil. Then she remembered a technique she had learned, of all people, from her Guide leader many years before. Problems became simpler if you wrote them down.
On her computer Jenny created a spreadsheet—the oddest use of a spreadsheet format she could remember. As the title she typed 'Jenny Carson—Love Life'. There were five columns: Mike's name, his age, her age, for, and against. Then, with a giggle, she started to fill in the columns.
When the columns were nearly finished, she looked over what she had got down.
First real boyfriend ever—Jack Mayhew. He had been seventeen, she had been fifteen. For? Well, at that age you just had to have a boyfriend. Everyone had one. And Jack had been both good-looking and older, she had been proud to be seen out with him. Besides, he'd helped her with her science homework. Against? Well, the usual male thing. He'd wanted more than she'd been prepared to give. But she had loved kissing him. A thought flashed through her mind: How long had it been since she had enjoyed being kissed that way? Mike had kissed her. But only quickly.
Jenny shook her head. She had parted more or less friends with Jack. In fact, she had lost him to an older, more experienced girl. Lisa Quist had been nineteen-—even older than Jack. And it had been said that Linda was willing to... well, that was years ago.
On to the next one. When training as a nurse, a young doctor, Martin Meres. An earnest, eager, nervous young man. For—they'd got on well, had shared interests. But there had been no real passion there. When he'd found a post at a distant hospital they'd written to each other. But only for a while.
Next, Lennie Rossiter. He had been a junior registrar and with him for the first time she'd felt the power of real emotions. What he'd felt for her had both thrilled and frightened her. For—she had been sure that she loved him, physically at least. Against—she hadn't been sure that she'd liked him. One night he'd taken her for granted, they'd argued and after that she'd dropped him.
He'd tried to get her back but she wouldn't have him. He had been really angry with her and had taken his revenge by telling stories about her. She'd hated that.
Interesting. Whatever happened, she was certain that Mike would never do anything like that. Why was she so certain?
There were a couple more men. One was a hospital manager, one was from the outside world—a solicitor. She had very much liked them both, but she hadn't felt that passion for them that she felt she was ultimately capable of.
Then she'd met Peter Murphy. She'd thought—she'd known—that this had been the man who could give her everything she needed.
She printed his name on the paper. Then she looked through the rest of the list and deleted every name. All the rest were irrelevant. Peter was the biggest thing—the only thing—in her emotional life. He would take a lot of getting over—if indeed she ever did get over him.
When she thought of him, she shivered. And she promised herself that, whatever else happened, she would not let Mike Donovan get too close to her.
In fact, she had to work with Mike the next day when he was conducting his rounds on the antenatal ward. Jenny had arranged for four of her midwifery students to shadow the doctor, the SHO and the ward manager as they checked on all the patients and decided on the future pattern of care.
'They're new, this is their first time in hospital,' she said to Mike. 'If they can just observe, afterwards I'll answer any questions they might have.'
'Like I said in my lecture, I'll happily answer questions. Just so long as they're asked at the appropriate time.'
'No one will say a word to you in front of a patient. They have been told that several times. But if you want to talk to them as you're walking, great.'
Jenny didn't go on the ward round, it was busy enough already. She sat in the ward manager's room and looked through the patients' notes. It stopped her thinking about Mike.
Eventually the ward round was over. With the ward manager Jenny arranged for her four students to each shadow a nurse. This time they would be encouraged to speak to the patients, to try to provide some of the comfort and support that was so necessary to women who could be anxious. And afterwards Jenny would ask them what they had noticed, what questions they had.
She believed in the importance of time on the wards, and had a suspicion that the modern plan of a programme of initial lectures and classes was no substitute for practical time. But she didn't say this too loudly to her university colleagues.
Mike hadn't come back to the ward manager's office. Apparently he wanted to chat—informally he said—to one of the patients. Jenny wondered if he'd come and chat to her. Then she went on with her work.
Things altered quite a bit ten minutes later.
A nurse popped her head round the door and said, 'Jenny?
If you feel like being a referee, you might like to go on the ward. I think our new Dr Donovan is going to kill one of the fathers.'
'Kill him? That's a bit extreme.' Jenny sighed. For some reason there often seemed to be an excess of trouble with fathers in the antenatal ward. Perhaps they were worried or stressed. Postnatal ward was much quieter. 'Which father?'
'Mr Brent. The doctor has taken him out of the ward into the rest room.'
Mr Brent. If something nasty happened to Mr Brent, Jenny wouldn't be too worried. When he came in he tended to be drunk—even in the afternoon. Or he'd been taking something even worse. And when Jenny had undressed his white-faced wife, she had found bruises that certainly did not come from 'falling against the furniture'.
But she wasn't sure that Mike was the right person to deal with Mr Brent.
'She hurried down the ward to the little side room that the nurse indicated. Mike was standing, his face black with anger, his arms folded, staring down at a smaller figure who was sitting uncomfortably in a low easy chair. As Jenny watched, Mr Brent tried to struggle to his feet. Mike put a hand on his shoulder, pressed him down again.
'I haven't finished with you yet,' he said. 'You may talk to people how you like in your own home, but you don't do it in my ward. Especially, you don't speak to your wife that way. She's about to go through a painful and disturbing process. She needs support. And more than that, you speak to my nurse politely. If she can't answer your questions she'll refer you to me. Now, do you understand me?'
'You can't speak to me like that! I'll report you.'
'I can speak to you like that, I just have done. In future, when you want to come on this ward you'll have to wait outside until we can arrange for a member of Security to come in with you. Get that?'
Jenny blinked at what happened next. Mike's hand dived into Brent's pocket, came out with a small packet of white powder. He looked at it, looked at Brent.
Jenny could see Mike's face. There was such an expression of hatred on it that for a moment she wondered if the nurse had been right and Mike was going to murder one of the fathers. And she saw the fear on Brent's face too. Mike said nothing. She saw him struggle for control and eventually he seemed calmer. A bit calmer.
A Very Special Midwife Page 3
