Tempted by Dr. Daisy

by Caroline Anderson

  She turned over and thumped the pillow, blinking away the tears. It still hurt so much to think about. Two years! Two years she’d been with him, living with him, giving him everything she had of herself, and he’d thrown it back in her face. And the stupid thing was, she’d known something was wrong. She just hadn’t known what.

  No, she didn’t need another relationship like that to suck her dry. Once was enough, for any woman. She propped herself up and looked at the clock. Midnight. Too late to phone Amy in Crete. She’d be back on Wednesday. She’d talk to her then, get a little sensible perspective on it. God knows she could do with some.

  And in the meantime, she needed sleep. She flopped back down onto the pillows, stared at the ceiling and finally drifted off, the picture of Florence on his bedside table haunting her dreams.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE plumber arrived on the dot the next morning, and Daisy bumped into him on her way to the hospital a few minutes later.

  ‘He’s got his work cut out with this one,’ Steve said, jerking his head towards the house, and she laughed.

  ‘Tell me about it. Look after him for me, won’t you, Steve?’

  ‘Like that, is it?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘He’s my boss. I don’t want to be in trouble because my plumber takes the mick out of him with the bill.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, Daisy, you know that,’ he said. ‘Besides, the wife’s due in a few weeks. Don’t want to upset the delivery driver!’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ she said with a grin, and left him to get on. She met up with Ben in the antenatal clinic later in the day and relayed the conversation.

  ‘I’ll get the staff to look out for her. What’s her name?’

  Daisy shrugged. ‘Mrs Steve?’ she offered, and he sighed and smiled.

  ‘I’ll ask him. With any luck she won’t need us. I thought Evan was on with me this afternoon?’

  ‘He was, but he’s been called to the labour ward, so he thought you might want me.’

  Unfortunate choice of words. She felt herself colour, but Ben just smiled, one eyebrow tweaking a fraction, and stuck to the script.

  ‘Good. Could you give me a hand? It’s a bit hectic.’

  ‘Sure.’

  She was out in the waiting room calling for her next patient when a woman caught her eye and all her antennae went on red alert. She didn’t like the look of her at all.

  Pale and sweating, she was obviously in pain, and she was waiting to be assessed when Daisy spotted her. Veering away from her next patient, she asked her who she was, picked up her notes and took her into her room to examine her.

  She said she’d come in because she thought she was in labour, but Daisy didn’t think she was. Her abdomen was rigid, her pulse was raised, her blood pressure was falling and even though she had no external signs of bleeding, Daisy had a thoroughly bad feeling about her.

  ‘I’m just going to get Mr Walker to look at you, Debbie,’ she said with a smile, and leaving the door open and the midwife in attendance, she went in search of Ben.

  ‘Excuse me, could I borrow you for a moment?’ she said calmly, and he turned from his patient and met her eyes.

  ‘Can it wait a minute?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  He gave a curt nod and joined her outside the door a moment later, one eyebrow raised in enquiry.

  ‘Placental abruption, 34 weeks,’ she said succinctly, and he wasted no time.

  ‘Call Theatre, get Evan in there if he’s free yet, if not we’ll do it. Where is she?’

  ‘Cubicle 2. Her name’s Debbie Haynes.’

  She paged Evan, discovered he was still up to his eyes with a tricky delivery and went to tell Ben. By the time she got there Debbie was on a trolley and heading for the lifts, phoning her husband en route, and Ben was with her putting a line in as they moved. He waved her over, and she ran and joined them as the lift doors closed.

  ‘Good call. Can you assist?’

  ‘What about the clinic?’

  ‘It’ll run late,’ he said candidly.

  ‘OK.’ She smiled at the woman. ‘It’s all right, Debbie, you’re in safe hands.’

  Normally, it would have been a platitude. This time she meant it—assuming they were in time.

  She had a general anaesthetic, because time was of the essence, and even though Daisy thought she’d seen him do a section fast before, it was nothing on this. Like the well-oiled machine that it was, the team had sprung into action at her call and were ready for them. A runner with blood was on the way, a SCBU crib was in the room and an army of neonatal specialists descended on them, just in time to receive the dark, floppy baby from Ben’s hands.

  He swore softly, but there was no time to worry about the baby when the mother was bleeding out. He dealt with the placenta, then held a pressure pack firmly against the site while the drugs worked to contract her uterus, and gradually her blood pressure picked up.

  And then, out of the blue, she arrested.

  Ben swore again and looked at Daisy. She had the paddles in her hands already, the pads stuck on, the defibrillator charging.

  ‘Clear,’ she said, and he let go of the pressure packs and stepped back. Debbie arched off the table, and their eyes all locked on the monitor.

  ‘OK, we’ve got her back,’ the anaesthetist said, and in the background they heard the thin, mewling cry of a newborn baby.

  An audible sigh of relief filled the room as the tension was released.

  Ben put the pressure back on and shut his eyes briefly, and when he opened them they were brighter than she’d ever seen them. ‘OK, let’s make sure this bleeding’s sorted and then close,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Sounds like Debbie’s got a baby to meet.’

  ‘Well spotted.’

  ‘It was pretty obvious.’

  ‘No. You were observant,’ he said, giving praise where it was due—something he was sure Evan didn’t bother with. ‘She was going downhill fast, and you spotted her in the nick of time. Thank God she had the sense to come to the hospital for a check-up and didn’t just wait and see. It saved her life, not to mention the baby’s.’

  ‘No, you saved both of them,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve never seen a section done so fast.’

  Nor had he. ‘It’s not the neatest.’

  ‘It didn’t need to be neat. It needed to save two lives, and you did it. Thank God you were there. And anyway, it was neat. You wouldn’t let it be anything else.’

  ‘Rumbled.’ He smiled down at her and dropped the last set of notes on top of the pile. ‘What are you doing now?’ he asked as they left the clinic.

  ‘Going home,’ she told him wearily. The clinic was finished—well over time, due to their abrupt departure with the emergency, but that was the nature of obstetrics. Some things—some babies—couldn’t wait.

  His voice was a low murmur. ‘Fancy celebrating?’

  ‘Debbie’s baby?’

  ‘Debbie’s baby, my first week in a new job—us?’

  ‘I thought there wasn’t an “us”?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Of course there’s an “us”.’

  There was. Of course there was, he was right, but there wasn’t really supposed to be.

  ‘There’s a pub in Woodbridge,’ he suggested. ‘We could try that.’

  Rather than go public in their own patch?

  ‘Sounds good,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll book a table, then. Is it OK if I come round and have a shower before we go out?’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  Except they ended up sharing the shower, and he had to call the pub and move their reservation.

  They went in his car, which was, of course, a much nicer car than hers, and she guessed he’d had it since before the divorce. She settled back against the leather upholstery and sighed. ‘Nice,’ she said, and he laughed.

  ‘Yes. Luckily I managed to keep Jane’s hands off it. She doesn’t like automatics.’

  She found herself specul
ating again about their weekends. Speculating too hard, apparently, because he reached across and took her hand.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I was just thinking about your wife.’

  ‘Ex-wife. What about her?’

  She shrugged. ‘I know it’s stupid, and it’s none of my business, but—when you stay there, at the weekends…’

  He slowed abruptly, hitched up on the kerb and cut the engine. ‘No way,’ he said firmly, sounding appalled. ‘Did you seriously imagine—hell, Daisy! You think I’m sleeping with her?’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t be that unreasonable, would it?’ she said, trying not to let her insecurities show. ‘I mean, it’s not as if you haven’t done it before.’

  ‘Daisy, it’s over!’ he said, even more firmly, and he took her hand and wrapped it in both of his. ‘Jane and I are finished. We hardly even started. We never really loved each other, and the only reason I have anything to do with her is for Florence. Believe me, there is no chance of us ever having anything to do with each other ever again, not in a personal way. Besides, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion her old flame might be on the scene.’

  ‘Really? Does Florence know?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m aware. She shouldn’t. Jane knows that and she’s promised she’ll keep any relationships discreet. Not that it would be hard, if it is him, because he’s in the army and he’s away a lot of the time. And trust me, when he is, it’s no part of my duties to fill his shoes. I’ve tried that once before, and Florence was the result.’

  ‘They were still together?’

  ‘No. She was on the rebound from him, and very far from over him. I was there. She got pregnant. End of story.’

  Yikes. That was a bit of an info-dump she hadn’t expected, and she filed it away to think about later and told herself to relax. ‘Sorry. I was just—I mean—we didn’t specify anything in the rules about monogamy…’

  ‘Daisy, there aren’t any rules!’ he said, his thumb grazing the back of her hand gently. ‘Not really. We’re making it up as we go along, but—absolutely, monogamy is key. I’m not and never have been promiscuous, and I don’t intend to start now. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me for years, and I’m not going to sacrifice what I have with you by revisiting a relationship that was a disaster from start to finish!’

  She stared at him, and then started to smile. ‘I’m the best thing that’s happened to you for years?’

  ‘Without doubt, and with the exception only of Florence. And as you know, she has to come first.’

  ‘Of course she does. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I couldn’t respect you if you felt any different—and for what it’s worth, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, too.’

  Their eyes locked, and he gave a soft sigh and leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

  ‘Bless you,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re a sweetheart. I’m so sorry it can’t be more than this. You deserve so much more, and I just can’t give it to you, but I’ll never lie to you. That much I can give you.’

  She touched his cheek. ‘That’s all I want. I’m not really ready for more yet myself, and I’d rather have this than nothing,’ she told him honestly, and wondered how long she’d feel like that. A year? Two? Ten?

  Forever?

  She felt her future drain away, subjugated to the love of this man, and she straightened up in her seat and looked ahead. Love? Oh, God, no. The ‘L’ word was banned!

  ‘We’ll be late,’ she said, and he put the car in gear and pulled away, while she sat there and contemplated the fact that while she’d been keeping her head focussed on the ‘no complications’ part of the deal, her heart had apparently had other ideas.

  She was in love with him, and it was going nowhere, and all of a sudden she wanted to cry.

  Clare Griffiths, their pre-eclampsia patient Ben had delivered on his first day, was improving rapidly and now spent all her days sitting by her little son in SCBU, watching over him as he slowly grew stronger. They bumped into each other in the café on Wednesday, and Clare bought her a coffee.

  ‘Just to say thank you, although it seems a pretty pathetic thank-you for all you did.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything special,’ Daisy protested, but Clare shook her head.

  ‘It may not have felt special to you, but to me—you just took the time to talk to me, to explain what was happening, and Mr Walker—well, he was brilliant. So quick, so decisive, and I just—well, I felt safe with both of you looking after me, so thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ she said, touched by Clare’s words. ‘I’ll pass that on to him.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve already told him. He thinks you’re special, too.’

  ‘Does he?’ Daisy was startled, amazed that he’d discussed their private feelings with a patient, but Clare just smiled.

  ‘Oh, yes. He said so. He said he was very lucky to have you working with him, and that you were excellent.’

  She felt a little wash of relief. Of course he was praising her and backing her up to the patients. She was a member of his team. What else would he do? But she still felt a little glow of pleasure to know that he’d done it.

  ‘Well, you’re looking a lot better than, what—ten days ago?’ she said, changing the subject swiftly. Ten? Was that all it was since she’d met Ben? Amazing. ‘So, tell me all about Thomas. How’s he doing?’

  ‘Really well. Why don’t you come and see him on your way back?’ she asked, and Daisy hesitated for a second and then folded.

  ‘Do you know what? I’d love to,’ she said with a smile, and they walked in to find Ben there, standing by the crib chatting to one of the nurses as he looked down at young Thomas Griffiths with a tender smile on his face. He glanced up as they approached and his smile widened.

  ‘Clare—hi. Hello, Daisy. Come to see Thomas?’

  ‘I have. I thought I’d play hooky for a moment as it’s quiet. Is that OK?’

  ‘Of course it’s OK. He’s looking good, Clare, isn’t he?’

  ‘He is. I’m just about to get him out and feed him. Want to give him to me? I know you’re itching for a cuddle.’

  He chuckled. ‘Sit down, I’ll get him out for you.’

  He snapped on gloves and reached into the incubator, juggling the tubes and wires with careful, gentle hands while the nurse supported their weight, and little Thomas lay there cradled securely, fast asleep in Ben’s outspread fingers like a tiny doll.

  ‘There you go, little man,’ he murmured. ‘Here’s Mummy.’

  He settled the tiny baby gently in Clare’s arms, pausing to run a gentle finger over his soft, transparent cheek, and Daisy felt a huge lump in her throat. She’d seen him in Theatre with slippery little babies in his capable hands, passing them swiftly to the midwife—very swiftly, in Debbie’s case. She’d seen him deliver Thomas a little more slowly, but no less carefully. She’d seen him in the delivery rooms wielding the forceps or Ventouse with ludicrous ease and then handing the babies over to their mothers as if it was all in a day’s work—which of course it was.

  But here he was for no good reason, sneaking a cuddle with little Thomas, his big, strong hands cradling a tiny infant with such exquisite gentleness that she felt her eyes fill.

  Was he like this with Florence? Yes, of course he was. He’d be a fantastic father, devoted, patient, gentle— Florence was a lucky little girl.

  ‘He’s beautiful, Clare,’ she told her softly. She was aching to hold him, but he didn’t need over-handling, and besides, they had work to do, so they left her feeding him and headed back to the ward.

  ‘You know she thinks you walk on water,’ she said to him as they went, and he chuckled.

  ‘We aim to please,’ he said. ‘She’s looking good, isn’t she?’

  ‘Very. And the baby’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Utterly. Why do you think I went up there? Although having said that, I think they’re all gorgeous. I was talking to Debbie’s baby’s nurse a minute or so before you
came in. He’s doing well, too, and she seems to be getting there, thanks to you. He’s much stronger than Clare’s baby, but even so, that was too close for comfort.’

  ‘So where are you going now?’

  ‘Paperwork—unless there are any deliveries that need me? Any more babies I can legitimately cuddle?’

  ‘You’re just a softie under that big tough Yorkshire front, aren’t you?’ she said to cover her own emotions, and he laughed.

  ‘Absolutely. Why do you think I do the job? Right, I’ve got a huge pile of paperwork needing my attention, then I’m off to pick up Florence, talking of babies.’ He lowered his voice. ‘What are you doing later?’

  ‘Nothing. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration. I’m on call to the labour ward from nine tomorrow, so I’ll probably have an early night. If it’s anything like last time, it’ll be hellish.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Don’t rely on it. I probably won’t get away till late.’

  He nodded acknowledgement, then with a rueful grin he headed for the mountain of paperwork in the office, and she went home. Amy was back, and she had so much to tell her. She couldn’t believe so much had happened since Laura’s hen weekend, and she needed Amy’s take on it.

  And at some point in the future, she was sure, she’d need Amy’s support.

  Not that she was going to let herself think about that now. For now, she was happy just to be happy, and when it was over—well, she’d worry about that when the time came.

  ‘Are you home? I’ve got lots to tell you.’

  ‘Sounds exciting. Bring some food.’

  She raided her fridge and freezer, drove round to Amy’s house and let herself in, hugging her friend and standing back to look at her.

  ‘Wow, you’re brown! So how was Crete? Was it gorgeous?’

  ‘Utterly fabulous. What’s in the bag? I’m famished.’