'And who was this man you were sort of engaged to?'
'Ken Lassiter, a doctor at my hospital. He was outgoing, noisy, the life and soul of every party. He was always in charge. My job was to be silent and admiring. I was looking forward to marriage and children, while he was in no great hurry.'
She wiped a tear from her face, toughened up her voice. 'I knew he was drunk when we got into the car but I didn't object too hard, that wasn't my job. But sometimes I still wonder if somehow I killed him. A girl who was tougher would have refused to let him drive. But, as ever, I went along with things. After the crash I got lots of money in compensation. But it's never enough! And when I came round in hospital I vowed that never again would I be subservient to a man. I'd change my appearance, become a different person. And coming here, coming to a large city, that was going to be part of the change.'
He kissed her again. 'I like the new you,' he said.
Of course, there was more to her accident, but she didn't want to tell him now. She just couldn't—though she knew she was storing up trouble.
He must have realised that she didn't want to talk any more for a while. He hugged her, held her close to him and she felt that she was blissfully happy just lying there. But after a while it struck her that the conversation had been a bit one-sided.
'You know about me—what about you?' she asked. 'Why haven't you been snapped up? You told me earlier that you had been...entangled and you didn't like it.' Then she giggled, 'Look at the way I'm lying here now. I'm entangled with you.'
'In a much nicer way. You know I'm kept very busy. But there have been girlfriends from time to time.'
'The hospital gossip is that you go out with glamorous women who like appearing in the papers.'
He sighed. 'I'm afraid there's a bit of truth in that. But I just go out with them. At the time we both know there's nothing serious in the affair.'
Miranda wriggled, felt the warmth of his body against her face. 'I'm not glamorous. Is your taste changing?'
'Apparently. Miranda, work keeps me busier than any man ought to be. I don't seem to have much time for a social life or even to think about the future. But if I did, I imagine it would include someone like you.'
'Jack! For now we're just getting to know each other. No long-range plans...'
'I didn't say planning,' he pointed out. 'I said imagining.'
'Very true.' She pulled herself closer to him, felt the muscles of his arms about her, smelt the cleanness of his shirt. 'You know what?' she mumbled. 'I've had a lovely day. But it came after a hard week and because I'm warm and comfortable and happy, I'm almost falling asleep. But tell me more about your future. What do you want to achieve? What do you want most in the world?'
For a moment he was silent, lost in thoughts that, to Miranda, seemed rather sad.
'Like you wanted, marriage and children,' he said quietly. 'Ideally four kids, but who knows?'
Miranda tensed, then forced herself to relax. She should have expected something like that. She knew how much he loved children.
'Four's rather a lot,' she managed to murmur. 'Settle for three?'
'If I had to.'
She yawned, pushed herself upright. 'Jack, you don't know how much I've enjoyed being with you this evening,' she said. 'But now I'm too tired to even think. And I'm not going to fall asleep on your lap.'
He kissed her yet again, stood himself. 'I'd better go,' he said. 'It's not likely that I'll be called out—but just in case, I'll get some sleep. Miranda, I've enjoyed today more than any day I can remember. I'll look back on it and think of it as a beginning.'
Somehow she could smile. 'I think we started before today,' she said.
As Jack drove home, he thought about Miranda and everything she'd told him. She was amazing to have coped with so much tragedy in her life. She was so strong, yet so vulnerable, too. He found himself aching to heal her pain, make her happy.
'Coming from you, that's rich,' he murmured. Had he ever made anyone happy? His patients, yes, the families of babies he had successfully operated on, yes. His mother, brother and sister—they loved him as much as he loved them. But anyone else? Certainly not Veronica.
Miranda made him happy. When he was with her, she made him forget about the past, forget that he believed he'd never trust again, never love again. With her, he finally felt he had hope for the future.
Miranda liked working with Jack's sister and she remembered how Annie had told her that the three Sinclairs were called the good, the bad and the ugly. Miranda had already decided quite definitely that Jack wasn't ugly. She had only seen Toby from a distance, but he seemed to be cheerful, happy, smiling, a fantastic doctor. He wasn't really bad, he wasn't a womaniser, he wasn't a serial seducer. He had a gift—or a curse. Every woman he smiled at seemed to fall for him.
And now Miranda could see why Carly—Toby's twin, Jack's sister—was called the good. She was soft-voiced, gentle, totally unlike her two brothers. There was a physical resemblance—they all had the large grey eyes, dark hair, were tall and long-legged. Miranda had liked her at once.
They were working together in the postnatal clinic, checking over the mums and new babies, making sure that all was well. Usually it was happy, enjoyable work.
It was three days after her trip to the conference, after Jack had stayed to tea and they'd had their talk. The Sunday following the talk he had phoned her. He had been called into hospital for an emergency case that would take quite a while to deal with. But he had been thinking of her.
'I've been thinking of you, too,' she had said. 'I'm wondering if I ought to apologise for dumping my troubles on you. Telling you about my accident,' she had added hastily.
'Friends are for dumping on, Miranda. I would have been angry if you hadn't told me.'
'Are you my friend?'
'I want to be your friend and I'd like to be more. But at the moment I'm a bit confused.'
She had listened to his voice, trying to analyse it. He certainly hadn't been the cool, dispassionate surgeon any more, there had been warmth in his tones.
They had chatted for a couple for minutes but she was glad when the call had ended. She didn't know where they were going—but they seemed to be going somewhere.
And now she was working with his sister.
'I'm glad to meet you,' Carly said when they had a minute's respite. 'I gather you've been out with my stern big brother, Jack. It's about time he met someone like you.'
'We didn't really go out together,' Miranda explained. 'Just to a conference. And he stayed for tea afterwards.'
'I know, Annie told me. But I saw him when he came out of Theatre on Sunday and he was smiling. He said he'd had a great time at the conference. And that must have been you. Now, what's this next case?'
This was to be the last check carried out by the hospital and was quite a detailed one. After this, if all was well, care of the mother and baby was handed over to the GP and the local health visitor.
'Name is Sophie Vesey,' said Miranda, handing over the notes. 'There doesn't seem to be anything seriously wrong with her. I'll get her in if you want to look through these.' She went into the waiting room.
Other mothers and babies had formed little groups, were chatting among themselves, comparing notes. Sophie sat by herself, rocking the baby in her pram with one hand, a glossy magazine held in the other.
'Morning, good morning.' Sophie smiled at them as Miranda ushered her into the consultancy room. 'I gather this is the last time we'll meet.'
'Well, I hope so,' said Carly, and the three of them laughed.
Sophie was slim, appeared confident. She was older than average for a primigravida but had obviously decided that having a baby was no excuse for letting standards slip. She was modishly made up, with bright red lipstick. Her hair had been recently styled, her clothes recently bought. However, there was something about her that made Miranda vaguely apprehensive. But she couldn't quite decide what.
This was an interview that was best tak
en slowly. Carly started by chatting generally about how Sophie felt, what problems there had been. 'No problems at all,' Sophie said brightly. 'People warned me about how hard this would be. And I've had no trouble whatsoever. And baby Harry here is a darling.'
Both Carly and Miranda were surprised at this cheerfulness.
'You're getting enough sleep?' Miranda asked. 'A lot of new mums feel tired all the time.'
'I cope. I just don't seem to need so much sleep as I did.'
Now, that was unusual.
Miranda checked baby Harry first, he was in great shape. Then she helped Sophie get undressed and there was the normal examination. All seemed well. Then there was the internal, to check the cervix, the uterus, the pelvic floor. All fine there, too. And through all of this, Sophie kept up a good-humoured conversation, telling them how happy she was.
'You can get dressed now,' Carly said eventually. 'You seem in fine shape. Er...Sophie. You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, but have you started having sexual relations with your husband yet? Is all well there?'
'No problems whatsoever. If anything, things are better than they were.'
'Well, you seem to have had a perfect pregnancy,' Carly said. 'I don't think we need to see you again.'
'There's the Edinburgh scale,' Miranda said. 'If Sophie wouldn't mind filling it in, it would give us some idea of just how good a perfect pregnancy can be. A sort of control.' She glanced at Carly, who nodded for her to continue. After all, Miranda had seen more pregnant women than Carly had.
'The Edinburgh postnatal depression scale,' Miranda explained to Sophie. 'You fill in answers to ten questions—just about how you are feeling. Obviously, it's not necessary in your case but we like to see healthy women as well as those who have problems. Why don't you take it outside and fill it in at your leisure?'
Sophie laughed. 'I'm going to get full marks, you know,' she said. 'But I'll do it.' She took the form Miranda handed her, bent down to kiss her baby and wheeled the pram out of the room.
There was a moment of silence. Then Carly asked, 'Miranda, have I missed something? I've never seen a more cheerful mother.'
'Neither have I,' said Miranda. 'But there's something wrong. She's too good to be true. Carly, I hope you don't mind, but could we have another doctor in? Just for five minutes?'
'I'll fetch Jack,' said Carly. 'I know he's in his room.'
'Jack? But he's a surgeon.' Miranda hadn't expected this.
'Jack knows a lot more about people than he lets on. Don't let him fool you.'
He doesn't need to fool me, Miranda thought, I think I'm fooling myself. But he might be able to help Sophie.
He came into the room with his sister. As usual, when she saw him for the first time, her heart gave a little thump. But this was just because he looked so gorgeous, she told herself. Just a reaction to his masculinity. Purely hormonal, nothing to do with feelings.
'Carly tell me that we've got the perfect postpartum mum,' he said with a smile. 'And you're not happy with her?'
'You know, I'm beginning to agree with Miranda,' Carly said thoughtfully. 'She is too perfect. It just isn't normal.'
'So this is a test. What explanations could there be?'
Then it suddenly came to Miranda. She blurted out, 'I've just remembered, I heard her talking and I know what her husband does. He's a dispensing chemist:'
The examination room suddenly seemed cooler. Not one of the three spoke for a moment and then Carly said, 'With access to all sorts of drugs.'
'I'll go and fetch her in, shall I?' suggested Miranda. 'See if she's finished the test.'
'Good idea,' said Jack. 'Carly, do you mind if I do the talking for a while?'
'I'm always willing to learn from an expert, big brother.'
There were ten questions on the Edinburgh test. For each question there were four options. For questions like Have you felt worried and anxious for no very good reason? the options were: No! Not at all; Hardly ever, Yes, sometimes; Yes, very often. And Sophie had done extremely well. As Miranda had guessed, she had scored top marks on every question. For a slightly older woman who had just given birth, this was more than remarkable.
Jack looked at the results and smiled encouragingly at Sophie. 'You seem to be coping extremely well,' he said.
'No problems at all. Not one.'
'That's good to hear. Husband quite supportive?'
'He's as delighted as I am.'
'And he can manage without sleep just as you can?'
Just for a moment Sophie looked defensive. 'Well, he has to work long hours, you know,' she muttered. 'And we have our own business.'
'Of course. You're just a bit unusual, Sophie. We seldom see women as cheerful as you so soon after the birth of a first child. They're happy, of course—but usually tired as well. I wonder how you keep yourself so bright. Can you give us any reason? We'd really like to know.' Jack smiled encouragingly.
Sophie didn't answer at first. Then she said, 'I'm just lucky, I suppose.'
'Good. Now, I think we'd like to see you again in about a week if that's all right. And one more thing— I'd like the midwife here to take a blood sample.'
'Why do you want a blood sample?' Sophie's voice was suddenly sharp. 'It's been tested enough, there's nothing wrong with my blood.'
Jack's voice was gentle. 'Just a normal precaution. We want to do the best for you and the baby.'
'What will you test for?'
'Anything that might harm you or the baby. Remember, you're still breastfeeding. Anything that you take might pass into the baby's system. Not a good idea. What might we find, Sophie?'
It was a gently spoken question, but it seemed to hang in the air like a threat.
Sophie burst into tears. 'My husband will be so mad! He didn't know. But I was so tired, and so depressed, that I went into the dispensary. I knew what to take and I helped myself. It won't harm the baby, will it?'
'What did you take, Sophie? Don't worry, we can sort things out, but I'd like you to stay here for a night or two and have you talk to some people. And I'm sure your husband won't be too angry with you. Now, what did you take?'
'Amphetamines,' sobbed Sophie. 'Having a baby in the house was harder than ever I thought and I couldn't sleep and I thought just one or two wouldn't hurt. And they made me feel all right.'
'We'll see if we can find something else,' said Jack.
Miranda and Carly had other appointments; it didn't do to keep their patients waiting too long. Jack said he'd see to the admission of Sophie.
'Thanks, Miranda,' Carly said when they had a rare moment of peace together. 'You saw something that I didn't. You were great.'
Miranda shrugged and grinned. 'I'm older than you and I've seen more cases,' she said. 'Another year or so and you'll be able to spot things like that automatically. Anyway, I wasn't sure.'
'I'm learning,' said Carly.
But Jack wasn't so easy to convince. He was waiting for her when she finished her shift. 'Spotting that Sophie was on something was a smart piece of diagnosis,' he said as they strolled down the corridor together. 'She had Carly fooled and she would probably have fooled me if I hadn't been warned.'
'Just experience,' Miranda said uneasily. 'I'm a midwife, I've seen a lot of new mums.'
'You knew she was on something, didn't you? On some drug or other?'
'Yes. Well, I guessed.'
'At some time you must have had quite a bit of experience of that kind of thing.'
She didn't want to carry on with this conversation, it was getting dangerous. She certainly didn't want to carry on with it now, in a hospital corridor. 'You come across all sorts in a hospital,' she said. 'Now, I'm needed in SCBU. See you, Jack.'
CHAPTER FOUR
That evening Miranda was alone in the flat when Jack rang her doorbell. She hadn't been expecting him; she was surprised. She was pleased to see him but wished he'd have given her a bit of notice. She was dressed in housekeeping mode—tatty jeans and T-shirt, a sc
arf around her head. 'Come in, Jack! This is an unexpected pleasure.' She waved at her outfit. 'Sorry about the mess I'm in. I'm fighting the dirt devils.'
He grinned. 'You look fine to me. Nice to see so much of you.'
All right, it was an old and a tight T-shirt. She resisted the urge to fold her arms over her chest and led him to her living room.
He looked at her thoughtfully. 'It's a flying visit. It's just that I got some results a few minutes ago and I thought you might be interested.'
'Results? You could have phoned me.' Then she realised what she had just said and hastily added, 'Though I'm very glad you did come. It's good to see you. What results?'
'Sophie Vesey. We've got the psychiatrist looking at her, she thinks she can sort Sophie out. We checked her blood. If she'd continued taking amphetamines at the rate she was taking them, the results could have been very serious. Especially for the baby. But clever of you to notice how she was.'
There was an invitation there, it was her choice to accept it or not. All right, she was on home ground, she could make a choice. She'd tell him. 'You know I had a car accident. My fiancé was killed by my side. Well, as I recovered.. .the surgeon in charge of me said that they'd done a fair job of putting my body back together. But.. .not my brain. The spirit that made me, me.. .that had been damaged, too. So for a while I was a psychiatric outpatient. And I saw other patients and I got to recognise various kinds of behaviour.'
She didn't know why he did it, but she liked it. He put his arms round her, gave her a quick hug. 'The spirit that made you, you. It's recovered, I can tell.'
'I hope so.' Miranda looked at him in what she thought was a not too challenging way. 'Now, I'm changing the subject,' she said. 'And the mood. I'm glad you called round. I've got a present for you. I've been wondering if I'd ever get the chance to give it to you.'
She went to her bedroom and brought him a small parcel. It was wrapped in gold paper, tied with crimson ribbon and had a large bow on top. He looked at it thoughtfully. 'Why do I deserve a present?'
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