A Very Special Surgeon

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘Heavens! Hasn’t she delivered yet?’ Kate looked alarmed. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Natalie nodded. ‘Contractions subsided. I got Omar Nahum to take a look at her and he said the baby was fine. “Just taking a sabbatical” were his precise words, I believe.’

  Kate laughed. ‘We’re so lucky to have Omar,’ she said, ‘and the mums adore him.’

  ‘And when they haven’t got Omar to drool over they have the delectable Mr Fielding—it’s no wonder they keep getting pregnant and coming back for more.’

  Kate didn’t answer, found she couldn’t because there was something, just some inflection of tone, when Natalie mentioned Tom that made her wary. It was almost as if Natalie was expecting her to comment or, even worse, that she was including her in the general female reaction to Tom. And Kate didn’t want that, it was the last thing she wanted and it had only come about since that absurd sharing of pizza and ice cream. She was beginning to wish it had never happened—it was causing too much trouble. First from her children, who couldn’t wait for the performance to be repeated, and now from Natalie, who seemed to be insinuating goodness knows what, and who should know better, knowing as she did how Kate had felt about Liam and how she certainly wasn’t ready—if she ever would be—to feel that way again.

  Maybe it was her, she told herself briskly as she took herself off to Maternity’s theatre in order to scrub up for Jane Fowler’s Caesarean. Maybe she was simply reading something into a situation that simply wasn’t there. And maybe it was because that thought was uppermost in her mind that she found herself being a little more brisk and efficient that morning, especially where Tom was concerned.

  In her theatre greens, clogs and mask, she was scrubbed and ready in Theatre by the time Tom and Matt Forrester arrived, also attired in greens and masks.

  ‘Good morning, Matt.’ She smiled at Matt Forrester. ‘How’s that gorgeous son of yours?’

  ‘Harry is brilliant.’ Kate knew Matt was grinning behind his mask. ‘There was never another child like him.’

  ‘You wait a few years,’ said Tom darkly. ‘Wait until he has you out on the rugby pitch early on a winter’s morning.’

  ‘Does Joe do that to you?’ Kate spoke without thinking then, seeing Tom’s surprised glance, wished she’d stayed silent.

  ‘It’s been known,’ he said dryly. ‘Ah, here comes our patient,’ he added, saving Kate from further embarrassment.

  Jane arrived on a trolley, having received her epidural in the anaesthetic room. Her husband Rick, who was also attired in greens, a cap and a mask, accompanied her. Both looked apprehensive and fearful as to what was about to happen. Kate stepped forward to reassure them, and while Jane was transferred to the operating table she led Rick to a seat alongside his wife, where he could observe if he wished and comfort Jane throughout the operation.

  ‘You both know Mr Fielding,’ said Kate. Turning to Matt, she said, ‘And this is Dr Forrester, who is a paediatric registrar. He is here to examine and monitor the baby as soon as it’s born.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Matt. ‘Do you know the sex of the baby yet?’

  It was Rick who answered. ‘No, we decided we didn’t want to know,’ he replied.

  ‘So we’re all in for a surprise, then,’ said Tom as the theatre staff erected a screen across the top half of Jane’s body and made the necessary preparations with cross-matching of blood and a link-up to a heart monitor.

  ‘You do know we shall be taking the baby down to the special care unit, don’t you?’ said Matt. ‘It should be a fairly good weight at thirty-four weeks, but just to be on the safe side we like to make sure.’

  ‘Will I be able to go down and see the baby fairly soon?’ asked Jane anxiously as Kate began preparing her abdomen for the incision.

  ‘Yes, as soon as you’ve had your stitches we’ll take you down,’ said Kate, ‘and if you wish, Rick can go straight away with the baby.’

  This seemed to satisfy Jane and she fell silent as Tom prepared to begin the operation. Rick had elected not to watch as the incision was made but as Kate moved forward to apply the diathermy instrument to control the bleeding and Tom began to deliver the baby, drawing it out of the uterus in a rush of water and blood, he couldn’t resist a look.

  ‘Jane, Richard,’ said Tom, ‘you have a son. Congratulations.’ As Kate clamped the umbilical cord Tom cut it, then Matt stepped forward and took the baby from Tom. He moved to the far side of the theatre where a nurse was waiting to assist him.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ Rick Fowler leaned over his wife and kissed her forehead.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ whispered Jane. ‘But the baby…?’

  ‘It’s a little boy, Jane. We have a son!’ There was a note of incredulity in his voice.

  ‘I know, but why is he so quiet? Why hasn’t he cried?’ asked Jane.

  ‘He’s with Dr Forrester,’ said Kate. ‘They will be clearing his airways to help him breathe.’

  As she spoke Tom removed the placenta and a nurse took it away to examine it to make sure it was intact and that no part of it had broken away.

  Jane still looked very anxious and it was only when a sudden wail from the baby broke the silence in the theatre that she relaxed and smiled. After Matt had finished his examination, he picked up the baby, wrapped him in a white blanket and carried him gently in both hands across to his parents.

  ‘Here he is,’ he said, ‘all present and correct. Just hold him for a moment, Jane, then he must go into an incubator.’

  With a look of absolute joy on her face Jane lifted her arms for her baby and very gently Matt placed him on her chest.

  ‘He is all right, isn’t he?’ asked Rick anxiously as he took one tiny hand in his and watched in awe as the baby’s fingers curled instinctively around his thumb.

  ‘He’s fine.’ Matt nodded. ‘But he may need a bit of help with his breathing, so we’ll put him in an incubator and take him down to Sister Forrester and her team. Are you coming with us, Rick?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ Rick nodded. Glancing back at his wife, he said, ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘One of us must go with our son. I can’t at the moment so it has to be you.’

  ‘Did he say Sister Forrester?’ asked Jane, as Matt and a nurse, together with the baby in an incubator and accompanied by Rick, left the theatre to go the short distance to the special care baby unit.

  ‘Yes,’ Tom replied. ‘Sister Forrester is in charge of the special care baby unit, and she also happens to be Matt Forrester’s wife. Now, tell me, do we have a name for the baby yet?’

  ‘Yes,’ murmured Jane, ‘it’s Jordan—Jordan Thomas.’

  ‘Ah, good names,’ said Tom with a smile as he prepared to close the incision in Jane’s uterus and abdomen. ‘Don’t you agree, Sister Ryan?’ His eyes met Kate’s over their masks.

  ‘Of course,’ she answered, then at something in the expression in those grey eyes she found herself looking quickly away. Once, not so long ago, it wouldn’t have bothered her, probably wouldn’t even have happened. Now it did, and she wasn’t even sure why.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KATE ate, paused and wiped the sweat out of her eyes. It was hot, too hot for gardening, but she had set herself the task of clearing the weeds from two of the large overgrown borders at the back of the house. Siobhan had been helping her to start with, albeit half-heartedly, but after only half an hour she had suddenly remembered something urgent that had to be done immediately. That had been nearly an hour ago and Kate hadn’t seen her since. Aunt Bessie had kept her well supplied with tumblers full of chilled, homemade lemonade but Kate knew her strength was flagging and that the heat would soon get the better of her. Maybe if she really put her back into it she could at least finish one of the borders, she thought, realising now that the idea of two had been far too ambitious. Bending over again, she began digging out the root of a particularly stubborn thistle. Aunt Bessie had wanted to get a man
in to do the garden but when Kate had seen what the charges were just for the smallest amount of work she had told her to forget it. Now, as the sun beat down on her shoulders and her back began to ache, she wondered if that wouldn’t have been the best option after all.

  ‘Mum!’

  She jumped, looked up sharply and caught her arm on the sharp prickles of the thistle. ‘Damn!’ she muttered under her breath.

  ‘Mum!’ The shout was even more urgent this time.

  ‘Yes?’ she called, at the same time sucking at the scratch on her arm, which was bleeding. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Phone!’ Siobhan’s head appeared from behind the hollyhocks. She looked flushed and excited. ‘It’s for you!’ she added breathlessly.

  ‘Well, couldn’t you take a message?’ Kate said irritably. ‘Tell them I’ll ring them back.’

  ‘No, Mum, you don’t understand. It’s him!’

  ‘Who?’ Kate frowned wondering who on earth it could be to reduce her daughter to such a state.

  ‘Him!’ said Siobhan again. ‘Mr Fielding!’

  ‘Mr Fielding!’ Kate blinked then stared at her daughter. ‘What does he want?’

  ‘I don’t know. He wants to speak to you! Hurry up—they might want to meet us again.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Siobhan.’ Kate straightened up and peeled off her gardening gloves. ‘It’s far more likely that he’s ringing from the hospital and it’s something to do with work.’

  ‘Does he usually do that?’ demanded Siobhan.

  ‘Well, no, I’ve never known him to, but—’

  ‘There you are then! Come on! Hurry!’ Siobhan turned and darted back into the house.

  ‘There’s always a first time,’ Kate concluded feebly, not that she believed it, not for a moment. Tom Fielding would never phone her at home—or any other member of staff, come to that—about work-related matters. She followed Siobhan into the house and up the stairs, answering Aunt Bessie’s raised eyebrows and questioning look with a shrug and a shake of her head. Her living room, with its stripped pine floors and deep coral walls, felt cool after the heat in the garden, while the tapestry cushions on the sofa offered a welcome refuge for her aching muscles, but there was to be no respite for Kate. Siobhan was hopping up and down with excitement and even a mildly curious Connor had left his games console—unheard of on a Saturday morning—to see what all the fuss was about.

  ‘Go on, Mum.’ Siobhan urged her to pick up the telephone receiver from where it lay on the sideboard.

  Taking a deep breath, Kate did so. ‘Hello?’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Kate?’ There was no mistaking Tom’s voice and she felt a little tingle deep inside, almost as if she had doubted that it really had been him on the phone. ‘Kate, it’s Tom. Tom Fielding. Look, I’m sorry to bother you, and on a Saturday morning as well. This is obviously a bad time—you were busy.’

  ‘I was gardening,’ she heard herself say, ‘but it’s OK—I was a bit out of breath, that’s all.’

  ‘Out of breath?’ He sounded surprised. ‘It must have been pretty strenuous gardening.’

  ‘No, not really, only weeding actually, but I had to come upstairs to answer the phone. I must be out of condition.’

  ‘You live in a flat?’

  ‘Not really—well, sort of…’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry for dragging you away.’

  ‘It was probably the excuse I was looking for to stop,’ she said. ‘Anyway, Tom, how can I help you?’

  ‘I was just wondering, well, we were wondering—Joe and Francesca that is—if you and Siobhan and Connor would like to come over. It’s so hot, and we have the pool where everyone can cool off. I will also be barbequing a few steaks later on and I thought, well, I just wondered if you’d care to join us.’

  Her first instinct was to say no, not to let this thing, whatever it was that had started the previous weekend go any further. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said slowly, at the same time watching Siobhan and seeing her face light up with undisguised pleasure. ‘I’m sure the children will be delighted,’ she heard herself continue weakly. ‘What time would you like us to come?’

  ‘As soon as you like,’ he replied. She thought he sounded pleased that they were coming but she couldn’t be sure. ‘I don’t think the weather is likely to change,’ he went on, ‘but you never know and it would be a shame to waste all this sunshine.’

  ‘All right,’ said Kate, ‘but you’ll have to tell me where you live.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Sorry, I was thinking you knew. It’s in a village called Lower Melbury—do you know it? It’s about ten miles west of Franchester.’

  ‘Yes, I know where you mean.’ Kate took the pen Siobhan handed her and wrote the name of the village on the pad beside the phone. ‘There’s a church there beside the green…and a duck pond.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Tom replied. ‘You take the turning to the left of the church and my house is the second on the right. It’s called Kingfishers—you can’t miss it.’

  ‘Right, well, thank you,’ she said. ‘We’ll be over in, what? Let’s see, about an hour or so?’

  ‘Fine, we’ll look forward to it. Oh, and, Kate?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Don’t forget your swimming gear.’

  ‘What?’ demanded Siobhan as Kate replaced the receiver.

  ‘He’s invited us over.’

  ‘Yes!’ Siobhan punched the air with her fist. ‘I knew it! I told you so, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, Siobhan, you did,’ said Kate helplessly. She still wasn’t convinced she’d done the right thing in accepting the invitation, but at the same time she wasn’t sure she could have coped with the fallout from her daughter if she’d refused. And really, when she thought about it, there wasn’t any earthly reason why she should have refused. It was simply a kind follow-up gesture to the couple of hours they had shared and enjoyed the previous weekend.

  ‘Are the others there? Joe and Francesca?’ asked Connor, a trifle anxiously, Kate thought, and she found herself wondering whether his enthusiasm was as strong as his sister’s. This family, after all, were complete strangers, or rather they had been until the bowling trip, and they quite obviously lived very different lives from their own, with their private schooling and expensive possessions.

  ‘Yes, the children are there,’ she replied. ‘Mr Fielding said you might like to swim in his pool—’

  ‘They have a pool?’ Siobhan’s eyes widened.

  ‘Apparently so, and he’s going to be barbequing later as well.’

  ‘Oh, brilliant!’

  ‘You’ll like that, Connor, won’t you?’ said Kate doubtfully. ‘Swimming?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘I like swimming.’ He had won badges at his school for freestyle and backstroke.

  ‘Well,’ said Kate, ‘we’d better get ready.’ She wasn’t sure how she felt about going, couldn’t imagine what Natalie and the rest of them at work would make of it—she and her children socialising with the likes of Tom Fielding and his family.

  ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t go,’ said Aunt Bessie stoutly when Kate went downstairs to tell her what was happening and voiced her misgivings. ‘You’re every bit as good as they are, and don’t you forget it.’

  ‘Oh, I know, I know,’ said Kate with a laugh. ‘You don’t understand, it isn’t that—it’s just that somehow we’re poles apart, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Only in terms of wealth and position,’ said Aunt Bessie. ‘Underneath all that, they have the same hopes and fears as anyone else.’

  ‘I just hope the others at work see it that way,’ said Kate.

  ‘You don’t think they will?’ Aunt Bessie frowned.

  ‘There will be those who will think I’m getting above myself,’ said Kate bluntly. ‘And there will be others who will read something into it.’

  ‘And does that matter?’ asked Aunt Bessie.

  ‘Yes,’ Kate replied solemnly, ‘because I don’t want that. I want the childr
en to have fun and that really is the only reason I’m going. I certainly don’t want anyone thinking there is anything else in it.’

  ‘Well, dear.’ Aunt Bessie smiled. ‘I think you should try and enjoy the day yourself. It’s about time you had some fun in your life again.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Kate. ‘What will you do today? Will you be all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will,’ Aunt Bessie replied firmly. ‘I have some letters to answer then I shall walk down to the post box to post them and I may even call in on Dorothy for a cup of tea.’

  ‘There’s the church,’ said Connor.

  ‘And there are the ducks on the pond,’ added Siobhan.

  The village scene was idyllic, as had been the drive through the Sussex country lanes and the other pretty villages they had passed. Here in Lower Melbury white posts linked with black chains surrounded the village green, while beneath an oak tree in the centre of the green ducks and geese preened themselves or slumbered in the cool shade of the branches, protected from the fierce midday sun. A row of thatched cottages stood beside the square-towered church, their gardens a profusion of colour, from hanging baskets overflowing with petunias and lobelia to huge tubs of scarlet and pink geraniums and multicoloured Busy Lizzie.

  ‘Here’s the lane,’ said Kate, slowing the car to walking pace as she negotiated the sharp bend to the left of the church, ‘and the house apparently is the second one on the right-hand side.’

  ‘Here’s the first one,’ said Connor. ‘The Old Rectory—it looks like the next one is some way up the lane.’

  They travelled on in silence for some distance then Siobhan gave an excited yelp. ‘There it is!’ she said. ‘Look, you can see the roof.’

  A high beech hedge surrounded the house and at the entrance a white-painted, five-bar gate was standing open. The name Kingfishers was inscribed in gold lettering on a black plaque on the top bar.

  ‘I’d say they were expecting us,’ declared Siobhan. ‘Go on, Mum, drive in.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I should,’ said Kate. The sense of unease that had hung over her ever since Tom Fielding’s phone call was stronger than ever, but even as she dithered Tom himself appeared in the drive.