A Very Special Midwife

by Gill Sanderson

  'You're dressed in green,' he said. 'I brought you this and it'll go well with green.'

  He handed her a white lily, a corsage in a cellophane box.

  'Mike, it's lovely!' She reached up to kiss him—just quickly on the cheek though. 'Come in for a minute—I'm almost ready. And you can see my flat.'

  In fact, she was completely ready. But she wanted him to come into her home. It was a gesture—to herself as much as to anyone.

  'I'd like to see where you live,' he said. 'There's a lot about you I want to know.'

  She showed him the flat, got him to stand on the stool so he could see her view of the sea, showed him the stripped bedroom—the bed was made—and had him admire the new wallpaper she had chosen.

  'I like it around here,' he said. 'In fact, I've been looking at property lists. I think I'm going to buy a flat here myself. I need somewhere with a long view—over the river or towards the Welsh hills.'

  'So we'll be neighbours?'

  'We'll be near each other. That'll be nice,' he said.

  Then they set off. He was taking her to dinner and Jenny thought that this might be one of the most important evenings of her life.

  Chapter Four

  She had offered to drive him again, he had refused absolutely. He would borrow Sue's car. He drove her up into the hills near Wigan, to a restaurant she had heard of but never visited. The food was superlative but afterwards she could hardly remember a thing she had eaten. She did remember that he got her a half bottle of champagne, and had two glasses of red wine himself. They talked, an easy, friendly conversation about families, about her work and his.

  'I still want to know why you aren't married,' she said after her second glass of champagne. 'I would have thought you'd have been snapped up years ago. You've told me about Inez Sanchez and about when you were four.'

  He shook his head, looked gloomy. 'My life with women hasn't always been easy,' he said. 'I've already bared my soul to you, told you the story of Lucy Tilling and the tinkling ball.'

  'I appreciate your disappointment. You have had a hard time, haven't you? Tell me another story of female perversity. What dreadful woman did what dreadful thing to you?'

  He thought. 'The next episode happened when I was quite mature. I wasn't a child, I was positively suave. A debonair lad about town.'

  'Aged?'

  'Well, thirteen. But a grown-up thirteen. And Marie Shaw was thirteen too. We developed an understanding and she asked me if I'd like her to wear a ring. She'd already got the ring—it had come as a free gift from some girls' magazine. It was a going steady ring, but since they weren't allowed to wear rings in school she'd have to wear it around her neck, inside her blouse, on a piece of string.'

  Jenny had to giggle. 'You started your love life earlier than me.'

  'I was a precocious child. Anyway, I quickly tired of Marie. Her pop groups weren't my pop groups. So I said we weren't going out together—steadily—and she wasn't to wear the ring. But she wouldn't give up. She said she would decide when things ended and I'd better watch out or she'd tell tales about what we'd done to her mates and her mother. I pointed out that we'd done very little, she asked who would believe me. Well, I couldn't have that.'

  Now Jenny had to force herself to stop laughing. 'I wonder you ever trusted a woman again. So what happened next?'

  'The piece of string came undone and the ring was lost. Marie said she felt she had to tell me that but it was a sign that our relationship was over. And a week later I saw her holding hands with a fourth-former. She'd gone up in the world.'

  'Women are like that,' Jenny said.

  He reached over the table, took the green pendant and dropped it inside the top of her dress. She could feel the coolness of it against her skin.

  'That's my going-steady ring,' he said. 'I want you to wear it.'

  She thought for a minute then took the pendant out again. 'I'll happily wear your going-steady ring,' she said. 'But I'm proud of it, I want people to see it.'

  'The dessert trolley?' a soft-footed waiter asked.

  Finally the meal was finished and she said no, she didn't want coffee. They drove home slowly, largely in happy silence, and she held his hand when it was safe. And then they were outside her flat. She had practised this, rehearsed it even, and yet the words were still hard to speak.

  'I knew you couldn't drink much because you were driving so I got something in. Would you like to come in for a drink? And I know it's silly after that wonderful meal but I got some supper too.'

  He stared straight ahead. 'I'd like that,' he said. 'But are you sure that—?'

  'I'm sure,' she said quickly. 'Now, come on up before I change my mind.'

  She made him take his jacket off, sat him on her couch and pulled the coffee table towards him.

  'I didn't know what to buy,' she gabbled, 'but I bought some red wine and some white wine and a bottle of whisky. Or there's coffee. And there's what they called a party platter, which needs microwaving. Just little bits of stuff. But we've just had a lovely meal and perhaps...'

  Her took her hands and kissed them. He'd done that before, she wondered if it was a South American custom.

  'Just sit here and relax,' he said. 'Or, better, find something to play on the machine over there, something restful. I'll open the wine and bring in a couple of glasses.'

  It was good to have him take charge. 'Sinatra suit you?' she asked anxiously.

  'I love Frank Sinatra. Now, don't worry. Everything will be fine.'

  The CD was already in the player, she'd been listening to it before. So she flicked the switch to turn it on. The opening bars of Come Fly With Me filled the room. Was that an omen?

  She sat only a moment. Then she strode purposefully to the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, slid off her tights, stepped out of her dress and hung it up. She put on her dressing gown, long, in some silver decorated fabric. It always made her feel luxuriously comfortable. Then she lit the candles she had placed around the living room and turned off the light. Only then could she sit down and relax. What would be would be.

  He came in a moment later, carrying a tray with the opened bottle of red wine and two glasses. There was rather a pleasant smell coming from the microwaved platter, and he'd brought two plates. He placed the tray on the table and sat beside her. She saw his eyes flick to her dressing gown but he said nothing.

  'I like the candles and the music,' he said. 'Makes everything restful. And this is a very nice wine.'

  Restful? She didn't feel restful.

  'The man in the shop recommended the wine,' she said. 'It comes from Chile and I thought that... I didn't know if you liked...'

  'I like it,' he said gently. 'I'd be happy just drinking water with you. But this is a good wine and we'll both enjoy it.'

  She wasn't sure what was to come. Her heartbeat was accelerating again, she was half hopeful, half terrified. Was this a good idea, would he think she was being forward? What would he think of her? If they... well, would she disappoint him?

  He seemed to guess her mood, her anxiety. He poured half a glass of wine, tasted it then offered it to her to drink.

  'That is good,' he said.

  She took the glass, tasted the wine. Perhaps it was good. She just didn't know.

  He took the glass from her, leaned across to kiss her gently on the lips. 'There's nothing to worry about,' he said. 'No need to hurry. All good things should be enjoyed slowly. Now, we'll sit here for a while, I'll hold your hand and we can drink our wine.'

  His words were calming. He leaned over again, kissed her neck. 'Just being a doctor,' he whispered. 'All I'm doing is taking your pulse. And this is a wonderful way to do it.'

  'My heartbeat is fast because I'm nervous,' she confessed.

  'No need to be nervous. For now we'll sit here and just be glad to be with each other.'

  So they sat there together and listened to Frank Sinatra. She ate a couple of small warm somethings, though she had no idea what she was putting into her m
outh. They drank and talked. He told her about medicine in Argentina, about the Amazon, about the Andes and about fighting off a condor with a six-foot wing span. And an ease crept over her.

  What was to be between them was now preordained. All would be well, all would be fine. And when she knew this, she knew what she had to do. For too long she had been a victim. Now she was her own person. She would show him this.

  He had taken off his jacket and thrown it over a chair. She reached over him, started to unbutton his shirt. He looked at her, said nothing. When the shirt was fully open, she slid her hand over his chest.

  'Now I can feel your heartbeat,' she said. 'And speaking as a nurse, I would say that yours is fast too.'

  'You've unbuttoned my shirt.' His voice was ragged, as if he wasn't sure what to say next.

  'And now I'm going to take it off,' she said.

  She eased the shirt upwards, slipped one sleeve from his arm and then the other. She threw the shirt on top of his jacket and he was naked to the waist. His body was as muscular as she had known it would be. Tentatively she leaned to touch him, sliding her hands over the powerful shoulders, the firm pectorals and the trim waist. When her fingertips grazed his nipples she heard his involuntary gasp.

  'You're as sensitive there as I am,' she whispered.

  'We'll have to see.' Half a threat, half a promise.

  He seemed to guess what she wanted, what she needed. This was something she was doing of her own free will. It was an assertion of her right to offer herself. So as she caressed him, he remained still.

  But not for long. His arm stretched around her, gathered her to him. Now his kiss was demanding, not the gentle invitation it had been before. Willingly, she opened her lips to him, lay back as he took her, his tongue seeking her sweetness. Now, for a while, he could be master. And her hands clutched his naked back.

  This was so good but she knew it was only a beginning. After a while he moved back, took her arms from around him. Then he reached for the zip of her dressing gown, slowly drew it downwards. The hiss of the plastic zip sounded awfully loud.

  He slid the gown from her, her gaze burning as he looked at her almost naked body. Then he stood, took her hands in his and lifted her to her feet. Slowly the gown fell, to become a froth of silver around her ankles.

  Now it was her turn to remain still while his fingers trailed along her arms, the upper slopes of her breasts, round to her back. He must have undone it because her bra fell to the floor. She was happy to stand there, knowing the effect she was having on him. Even in the dimness of the candlelight she could see the passion in his eyes.

  He threw his arms around her, kissed her again. Her breasts were crushed against him, his skin seemed to set hers on fire and she thought that never had she felt such urgency. Now the calmness, the ease they had both felt before had gone. She felt his hands on her hips, pulling at the flimsy lace there. She reached for his belt, pulled it free, so both of them could be naked. And as he clasped her to him again she felt his need for her. So good to be naked together.

  He was strong. He bent, reached behind her and swept her up into his arms. Then he carried her into her bedroom.

  Why had she turned down the cover, left on only the discreet bedside light?

  He laid her in the bed, yet one more time looked down at her. 'Jenny,' he said, 'I want so much to...'

  She guessed what he was going to say. 'It's all right, sweetheart,' she told him. 'I've taken care of things. We'll be quite safe. Now, come to bed with me.'

  Perhaps it was inevitable. Earlier he had told her that they had all the time in the world, now this didn't seem to be true. His kisses had been so good but now they weren't enough. And so his lips roamed down her body, fastening on the aching tips of her breasts so that her back arched and she moaned with ecstasy.

  But there still had to be more, she wanted to be his completely. Never before had she felt this need to give herself. She pulled him onto her, stared for a moment into his wide eyes and muttered, 'Now, Mike, please, I need you now.'

  Then his lips were pressed to hers. And they came together as she opened herself to him, took him, received him, felt his delight and returned it.

  Then it didn't take long. Her climax came as a surprise to her; she hadn't expected that so quickly. But together they reached the ultimate culmination, calling each other's name in a final statement of love.

  And then lay side by side, letting the evening air cool their fevered bodies, happy just to hold hands, to be with each other.

  'I don't know what to say,' he whispered to her. 'Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.'

  'Nor me. I just can't find the words. So go to sleep.' She lifted one of his hands to her lips, kissed it. 'Mike, do you know how happy you've made me?'

  'As happy as me,' he said.

  Jenny woke first, slowly as ever. She was lying on her side, vaguely aware that things had changed in her life and that she was happy about them. It would be good to wake up today. Then she realised that there was an arm around her, holding her breast. And there was a body pressed against her back and the warmth of someone's breath on the back of her neck. She was in bed with a man. Mike.

  She opened her eyes, glanced at her bedside clock. It was still early. No need to wake him, no need to get up, she could just lie here and remember the night before. And enjoy the warmth of his body next to hers.

  Last night had been special. First, most importantly, it had brought her together with Mike. Second, it had reinforced her new view of herself. She was confident, assured of her femininity. She was a whole woman again.

  Without thinking, she wriggled with joy. She hadn't intended to wake him but the hand on her breast tightened and he kissed the back of her neck.

  'I had rather a wonderful dream,' a voice said. 'Do you want me to tell you about it?'

  'If you want. I like dreams that are wonderful.' She stretched and rolled onto her back. He leaned over her.

  'Well, it involved you.'

  'What was I doing? Or what were we doing?'

  'I can show you if you like,' he said. 'To start with, I was kissing you.'

  They were both still half-asleep, the need they had felt the night before was not so pressing. And so they had time to explore each other's bodies, to discover what gave pleasure and how best they could both be happy. And then there was the inevitable crescendo, the need both to give and receive and for both another heart-pounding climax.

  'Now you can kiss me one last time and then we're going to sleep again,' she said.

  'If you'd like to stay in bed, I'll fetch you breakfast,' he said an hour or so later.

  'Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?' Perhaps she ought to be the perfect hostess but she was very comfortable just lying here with his arm around her.

  'I'll do it. I'm a lark, not an owl. Early to bed and early up.'

  'I take time to wake up.'

  'You could have fooled me earlier on this morning. Ow!'

  Jenny had prodded him in the waist with a hard finger. 'Earlier this morning,' she explained, 'was different.'

  Then she frowned. 'I've just been thinking. What will Sue say when she finds out you didn't come home last night? And what about her car?'

  'No problem. She told me I could have the car all weekend. And as to not coming home—well, I told her I might stay at the hospital.'

  'And she believed you?'

  'I suspect not. But we have your reputation to think of.'

  She giggled. 'I'm sure it's safe in your hands.'

  He leaned over in bed, kissed her on the nose. 'You've altered in the short time I've known you,' he said. 'You laugh more now.'

  'It's because I'm easier with myself,' she told him. 'Because the past isn't dragging me down any more. I've lost the past, I feel free. Today is the first day of the rest of my life and I'm looking forward to it.'

  For a moment he looked serious. 'Look, I know I have faults,' he said. 'I tend to rush things, when I see what I want I have
to go for it straight away. It's not always a good thing. But now I want to slow down. I want to take things steadily with you, enjoy you, see where we're going. Just so long as I can be with you every spare minute you have.'

  'I'll go for that, Mike. I've never felt this way before.'

  'Neither have I,' he told her. 'It's so good it's frightening.'

  She knew she was getting to love him, knew he loved her. But neither of them had used the actual word 'love'. It was as if they both wanted to wait, to put off making that final statement, that final commitment. The right time would come and both would know it.

  And there was another feeling growing in her. She admired him. The more she saw him at work the more she saw him as a dedicated professional. He might rush things in his private life, but no one could be more careful in his professional life. And he hated to give up on anything.

  The following Wednesday she invited him back to her flat for dinner. She would get back before him and cook for him. They weren't working together. She was still in the antenatal ward, he was working in SCBU—the special care baby unit.

  At half past six he phoned her. His voice was flat and she frowned as she heard it. Usually he was the most cheerful of men.

  'Sorry, sweetheart, I really am. But I suspect I'll have to miss dinner. I don't think I can get away from the unit.'

  This wasn't too unusual. Occasionally there were emergencies and then staff just rallied round.

  'If it's necessary, then it is,' she said philosophically, trying to hide her disappointment. 'What's the problem?'

  'An abandoned prem baby. She was found wrapped in an old blanket in some bushes in the park. A neonate, apparently delivered there in the bushes. The police are looking for the mother; she's likely to be in a bad way. They found the placenta, there could be retained products.'

  Jenny sighed. Most of her work was intensely rewarding—there was no thrill like seeing a mother proudly accompany her new baby out of the ward— but occasionally there were tragedies, glimpses of lives that were ruined from the beginning.