Wish Upon a Star

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘Marvellous. Thank you so much for today. You were my present from Father Christmas,’ Ruth joked as she checked on the number of delivery packs. ‘I was expecting to struggle through Christmas with no staff, and suddenly they called me out of the blue and said that they had a midwife available.’

  ‘I was relieved to get work,’ Miranda confessed, running a hand over her bump and pulling a face. ‘I thought you might not want me.’

  And then she would have been in trouble because she needed every penny she could save. Pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to work at all…

  ‘You’re fit and healthy. That’s all that matters. See you tomorrow.’

  Miranda grabbed her jumper and jacket and walked slowly to the set of railings where she’d left her bike. She was so tired, she wanted to cry. Her legs ached, her head throbbed and her eyelids drooped. All she wanted was her bed. At least she’d be too tired to notice the grimness of her surroundings, she thought as she walked across the badly lit car park. She doubted she was even going to find the energy to undress.

  She’d just stooped to take the lock off her bike when a smooth male voice came from directly behind her.

  ‘Running away, Miranda?’

  Not having expected to see anyone, she gave a cry of alarm and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Oh—you frightened me.’

  It was Jake and he was leaning against the railings, watching her, his handsome face cold and unsmiling.

  ‘Why?’ His tone was as chilly as the weather. ‘Expecting someone else, perhaps? Your husband?’

  Tall and broad-shouldered, his blue eyes glittered dangerously in the darkness and he looked nothing like a respectable consultant. Nothing like the kind, reassuring man she’d seen calming Gail and Lucy earlier.

  The anger in his eyes was unmistakable and her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch.

  She hadn’t anticipated that he’d be angry when he discovered that she was pregnant, but neither had she anticipated the fact that she’d see him again.

  They said that your sins always caught up with you and it seemed as though her sin, although small, was currently biting at her heels.

  She should never have gone home with him and she definitely shouldn’t have kissed him.

  She ignored the tension in his jaw and the question in his eyes and tried to turn the conversation to safe ground. ‘You were amazing in Theatre.’ She’d hoped that reminding him that they were colleagues would be sufficient to encourage him to back off, but his gaze didn’t shift from hers.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about work, Miranda.’ His blue eyes were hard. ‘I want to talk about what the hell you were doing, spending the day with me yesterday—kissing me—when you’re pregnant with another man’s baby!’

  She didn’t even have enough energy to defend herself.

  A freezing gust of wind howled across the car park and a few flakes of snow wafted past her face. She was cold, tired and she still had to cycle the two miles home. The last thing she needed was confrontation. And she didn’t need to think about a kiss that she’d spent one whole night and day trying to forget.

  ‘Can we talk about this another time?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was thin. ‘We can’t.’

  ‘All right.’ She turned to face him, so tired that her own temper started to bubble up. ‘For a start, I didn’t kiss you—you kissed me.’

  ‘So this is my fault?’

  How could she ever have thought he was a nice man? Looming over her now, he looked tough, intimidating and just about as far from nice as it was possible to be.

  She was a lousy judge of men, she decided with no small degree of self-derision. Lousy.

  ‘I didn’t say it was your fault.’

  ‘Good. Because I may have kissed you but you kissed me right back. What’s your excuse? Are you going to blame the atmosphere? Or the alcohol you didn’t drink? Where was the father of your baby while you were kissing me?!’

  ‘Damn you, Jake!’ Exhaustion and disappointment made her temper break loose. For a moment she’d thought he was different. Special. ‘You know absolutely nothing about my life! And one kiss doesn’t give you the right to moralise on a subject about which you know nothing!’

  She swayed slightly and he swore softly and gripped the tops of her arms with strong hands.

  ‘Look at you, you’re exhausted! What are you trying to do to yourself, Miranda? Yesterday you were walking on your own in the middle of nowhere in lousy weather and today you’ve just worked a ridiculously long shift. You’re pregnant. You should be looking after yourself and the baby.’

  His words were the final straw. She was looking after herself and the baby. She had to because there was no one else to do it.

  ‘I’m perfectly aware of my responsibilities towards the baby,’ she spat, wriggling her arms out of his grip and glaring at him. ‘That’s why I turn up at work even though I’m exhausted. Not all of us have the luxury of being able to spend our pregnancy lazing around in bed. And my life is none of your business.’

  ‘You keep making it my business.’ He moved towards her, his blue eyes glittering in his handsome face. ‘It was my business when you tried to half kill yourself on a mountain yesterday and it was my business when you spent the day with me and kissed me. And it was my business today when you were working on my unit.’

  She backed away and wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop the shivering. She was going to have to find another job. This was never going to work. Suddenly she just wanted to go home. If the tiny flat that she’d rented could be classed as home. ‘Fine. I made a mistake, walking on the mountains without checking the weather, I admit it. And I admit that I should never have gone home with you, but you wouldn’t take no for an answer and it seemed harmless enough at the time. Obviously it wasn’t, but you know what they say about hindsight.’ She turned and pulled her bike away from the railings. ‘Now, I need to get home.’

  ‘On that?’ He stared at her bike in disbelief and her answering glance was loaded with derision and disillusionment.

  ‘Yes, on this. We’re not all the fortunate owners of a Porsche, Mr Blackwell. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I expect we’ll see each other tomorrow.’ Unfortunately. She was tempted to call the agency and ask them to send her somewhere else but she knew that there wasn’t anywhere else. This was the only obstetric unit for miles around. And she wasn’t in a position to move again. She had to think of the baby now. She had to put down roots—make a home for them both.

  A feeling of warmth spread through her and a rush of protectiveness. The same feelings she’d had from the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant. Given the circumstances, she probably should have been appalled, but she’d been thrilled and delighted. Excited. Of all the things she regretted in her life, becoming pregnant wasn’t one of them.

  ‘That’s it?’ He reached out and gripped her handlebars so that she couldn’t go anywhere. ‘That’s all the explanation you’re prepared to give me?’

  The warmth inside her faded. ‘What do you want me to say?’ She gripped the bike tightly, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing in her head. ‘That I’m a slut who kisses men even though she’s six months pregnant? There we are—I said it. I behaved badly.’ Her tone was flippant and slightly bitter. ‘I shouldn’t have gone home with you and I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘Because you were pushy and because I—’ She broke off, struggling to explain something that she hadn’t even managed to explain to herself. Why had she gone home with him? ‘It was Christmas Day. I didn’t want to be on my own.’

  ‘Why would you have been on your own? Did you have a row with your husband?’

  Husband? ‘No!’ She didn’t want him thinking that of her. ‘I’m not married.’

  ‘Partner, then.’

  Partner? What a joke. ‘Mr Blackwell.’ She tugged at the bike so that he was forced to let go. ‘I think we should just forget the whole thing now. I’m grate
ful to you for rescuing me and giving me somewhere nice to spend Christmas Day. But it’s history. Christmas has a way of doing funny things to people. If you don’t believe me, just think about the increase in suicides and all the people who make utter fools of themselves at office parties. We all go a little mad at Christmas. And now I need to go home.’ Before her aching, exhausted body gave up the ghost and slithered to the ground.

  His mouth was set in a grim line. ‘Is he waiting for you?’

  Why was he persisting in this line of questioning? ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I want to know what sort of man would let his girlfriend climb alone in the mountains in the middle of winter and then let her vanish for a day and a night without calling the police.’

  The same sort of man that didn’t care that he’d made a girl pregnant.

  Miranda gritted her teeth and gave another shiver. She didn’t want to think about him. He wasn’t worth it. She and the baby didn’t need him. They didn’t need anyone. ‘My life isn’t your business.’

  ‘You made it my business when you forced me to rescue you from a mountain and when you kissed me back.’ He was glaring right back at her. ‘You can’t cycle home in this weather. Why isn’t he picking you up?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, why do you care? Goodnight, Mr Blackwell.’ She tried to push past him but his powerful, athletic frame blocked her path and he muttered something under his breath and then lifted her bike.

  ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift home. Your bike can go on the back of my car. It isn’t the first time.’ He strode across the car park with her bike and she stared after him in a mixture of misery, temper and frustration. And consternation.

  She didn’t want him to give her a lift home. She didn’t want to give him the chance to question her further or find out anything about her.

  ‘Miranda!’ Having fastened her bike, he turned, his glance impatient. ‘Get in the car before you freeze.’

  Short of bodily wrestling the bike away from him she had very little choice but to stalk across to him and climb into his car. Again. Her mind was working overtime. She needed to find a way out of this situation and she needed to do it fast. There was no way that he could be allowed to drive her home. It would stimulate more questions that she had no intention of answering.

  ‘All right, give me directions.’ He slammed the door shut, slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Not far,’ she said vaguely. ‘Turn right out of here and then take the first road on the left.’ She felt several wriggly movements from the baby and put a hand on her stomach with a soft smile. It was as if he or she was reminding her that she shouldn’t give away too much.

  Jake stared at her for a moment and then his mouth tightened and he reversed out of his space. ‘You look pale.’

  ‘Do I?’ It was probably the shock, she thought numbly. The shock of seeing him again, mingled with the worry of having to reveal details of her life that she didn’t want to reveal. Suddenly she was struck by inspiration. ‘Take the second road on the right. That’s it. If you drop me here, that’s fine.’

  He slowed the car. ‘Here?’

  ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t where she lived but he didn’t need to know that. ‘Thanks.’

  He pulled up and removed the bike from his car, glancing at the row of large Victorian houses. ‘Is this where you live?’

  ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she said quickly, ignoring his question and taking the bike. ‘And I’m sorry about yesterday and everything. If it’s OK with you, I’d just like us both to forget it ever happened. I’ll see you at work, Mr Blackwell. Thanks a lot.’

  ‘Hold on a minute, you can’t just—’ He was interrupted by his mobile phone and he cursed softly as he reached into his pocket and answered the call.

  Silently thanking the hospital for choosing to call at that precise moment, Miranda climbed onto her bike, made sure that he wasn’t looking in her direction and then silently pedalled away from him into the darkness.

  Fifteen minutes later, in a very different part of town, she let herself into her tiny flat, propped her bike against the wall of the gloomy living room and yanked off her gloves.

  Relieved that he obviously hadn’t managed to follow her, she locked the door firmly behind her, dragged herself the few steps to the bed and sat down. She eyed the damp patch on the wall with resigned humour.

  ‘It’s a good job you’re not born yet, hotshot.’ She rubbed a hand over her stomach, talking to the baby as she often did. ‘At least you can’t see where we’re living. I promise to do better than this by the time you make an appearance but, in the meantime, at least I’m saving money for us both.’

  She pushed away thoughts of Jake’s spacious, comforting living room. She wasn’t going to think about his fabulous bathroom and she wasn’t going to think about the flickering fire or the deep, comfy sofas. And she most definitely wasn’t going to think about that kiss.

  It had been a stupid, wild moment and it wasn’t going to be repeated.

  She could hardly blame him for being annoyed. He’d judged on appearances, and hadn’t she done exactly the same thing herself in the past? Wasn’t that why she was in this situation? The facts at his disposal suggested that she’d deceived him and she, of all people, knew exactly how that felt—remembered only too well the sharp, vicious pain of discovering the depth of someone’s deception.

  Part of her wanted to defend herself, blurt out the whole truth so that he realised just how wrong he was, but what was the point of that? It didn’t matter what he thought of her, she reminded himself. In fact, it was probably a good thing that he had a low opinion of her. It would stop him pursuing her further.

  She gave a laugh of self-mockery. What man in his right mind would pursue a woman who was six months pregnant? She toed off her shoes and wriggled her aching feet. Not a man like Jake Blackwell, that was for sure. He clearly lived in fairy-tale land. He saw a pregnant woman and assumed she had a caring partner somewhere. If only…

  For a moment she remembered Jake’s skill and kindness with the women on the unit. Then she remembered the warm, tumbling feeling in her tummy when he’d kissed her, and buried her head in the pillow with a groan. Why had she kissed him?

  It was bad enough having been self-indulgent enough to go back to his house, but to have kissed him was unforgivably stupid. And now she was paying the price. Her long-dormant body was well and truly awakened. Her body and brain were disturbingly unsettled. She wanted things she shouldn’t want and could never have.

  She sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes in a determined gesture. She needed to put Jake out of her mind. Tomorrow at work she’d be brisk and professional and she had no doubt that he would be the same. Now that he knew that she was pregnant, why would he take the trouble to pursue her?

  They’d shared a kiss and now he was annoyed because he felt that she’d deceived him. And that suited her fine because she didn’t want his approval. Really, she didn’t.

  By tomorrow the damage to his ego would have faded and she’d be just another member of staff. And that was what she wanted. Absolutely.

  Too tired even to take her clothes off, she flopped back onto the pillow, pulled the duvet over herself and fell into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE unit was already busy when she arrived the next morning.

  ‘I can’t believe the number of women who came in last night,’ Ruth muttered as she checked the whiteboard and added another name. ‘I’m going to need you in Room 3, Miranda, if that’s OK. Daisy Priest. Really nice lady, but it’s her first baby and she’s a bit nervous. Her waters have broken but she’s still only two centimetres dilated so I think you’re in for a long one. Mr Hardwick is her consultant, but she’s not very likely to need him.’

  There was something in Ruth’s tone that made Miranda give her a second look, but the older woman had already hurried on to the next topic. From her own point of view, Miranda was reliev
ed that Jake wasn’t Daisy’s consultant. Not that he was likely to get involved in a normal delivery, but at least it meant that she was guaranteed a day where she didn’t have to bump into him. A day to gather herself together after the conflict of the previous day.

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Call me if you need any help. Oh, by the way…’ Ruth gave a quick frown ‘… she has a doula called Annie, with her. Nice lady. She’s been in here before.’

  Miranda nodded, knowing that a doula was someone who accompanies a woman in labour, giving her emotional support during childbirth. “OK. Thanks, Ruth.”

  ‘No problem.’ Visibly stressed by pressure of work and lack of staff, Ruth hurried off to greet a woman who had just been transferred from the antenatal ward and Miranda walked down the corridor to find Daisy.

  She was a woman in her twenties with a mass of curling blonde hair, and she was deep in conversation with an older woman who seemed to ooze calm and serenity.

  Miranda introduced herself and Daisy looked at her anxiously.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me bringing Annie, my doula. I know that not many women do, and—’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Miranda reassured her quickly. ‘Actually, where I trained in London, quite a few women used doulas. I think it’s lovely for a pregnant woman to have the extra support.’

  ‘It’s just that I wanted someone familiar with me,’ Daisy explained, ‘and my husband Callum is hopeless with anything medical. Useless. He’s downstairs in the shop, buying us a stock of magazines, because he couldn’t stand witnessing a contraction. How pathetic is that?’

  Miranda smiled and picked up Daisy’s notes from the table. ‘It can be very hard for a man to watch his wife in pain,’ she said quietly, ‘and I quite understand the need for a familiar and friendly face while you deliver.’

  She knew from past experience that doulas were there to ‘mother the mother’ rather than offer advice on delivery and she had no problems at all with Annie being part of the process.