‘I want to get off,’ she said firmly, and he stopped, so her feet were just off the ground and their eyes were locked.
‘Count the petals on a daisy, Daisy,’ he said softly, and let her down.
She got off. ‘They have an even number,’ she said expressionlessly, and walked away.
He watched her packing up the picnic, and with a quiet sigh he got off the see-saw and took Florence to play on the slide. He didn’t know what to do. He loved her. She loved him, and she loved Florence. If only she could believe in them, then maybe he could dare to hope…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HIS pager went off just as Florence was settled in her bed.
Daisy had gone home as soon as they’d got back from their picnic. ‘Call me if you need me,’ she’d said, and walked out, leaving Florence confused and disappointed, because she’d wanted Daisy to read her a story. Even Tabitha, sunning herself in the garden, had looked confused when she disappeared.
And it was his fault, apparently. Well, that didn’t surprise him. The atmosphere between them had been fraught since the moment he’d come home from the hospital, and apart from a brief interlude in the playground, it hadn’t improved since.
So she’d gone home—to regroup, presumably, and rant about him in private—and he’d put Florence to bed. He’d really hoped he wouldn’t need her, so that she could have some time away from the situation to chill out and destress, but the pager wasn’t on their side.
He was reaching for the phone to call her when she knocked on the door and walked in. ‘I heard the pager,’ she said flatly. ‘I hope you aren’t going to be long, I wanted a bath tonight.’
‘Have one here. I could be ages, judging by the look of this. It’s a breech that’s on a go-slow, so fill the bath and take your time. There’s wine in the fridge and Florence is in bed.’
Wine. That was all she needed, on an empty stomach. But the bath? Oh, yes. She went back to her house, grabbed her things—bubble bath, her razor, deodorant, moisturiser, body butter—she was really going to go for it, and if he was back in ten minutes, tough, because she wasn’t in the mood to hurry. At all.
She ran the bath, thought why not, went and got a glass of wine and slid under the bubbles. Bliss. There were no candles—maybe not a good idea with a child in the house, but a luxury she longed for. She glanced mournfully at the wall, picturing her bathroom on the other side of it, her sanctuary.
This room was clean, efficient and masculine, dominated by a huge walk-in shower, and his things were all over it. His dressing gown on the back of the door, his toothbrush on the basin. A pair of jeans had been chucked in the corner, next to Florence’s tiny little pink knickers and a T-shirt with a frog on it.
Oh, damn you, Ben Walker, damn you and your gorgeous little daughter and your ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ nonsense. She had no idea how many petals there were on a daisy, and she was absolutely not counting them!
She sipped the wine, sighed and slid a little lower under the bubbles. Mmm. Better. Half an hour of this, and maybe she’d feel a lot less fraught and a little bit more reasonable.
‘Daisy?’
The house was in darkness, except for the nightlight spilling from Florence’s room. He put the hall lights on and went up to check, but there was no sign of her, just Tabitha curled up in a ball at the foot of Florence’s bed, next to the frog cushion. He ought to move her, he thought, but then he shrugged. He’d had cats on the bed all his childhood and they’d never done him any harm. He pulled the door to, and paused outside the bathroom to listen.
Nothing.
‘Daisy?’ he murmured, and tapped very lightly so as not to wake Florence, but there was no reply.
Where the hell was she? She was supposed to be looking after Florence, and she’d clearly gone home—and some time ago, because it was dark outside now, and it was three hours since he’d left, so she hadn’t just nipped out to fetch something from next door or the lights would still be on.
But there were no lights on in her house, either, and she wouldn’t just leave Florence, she wasn’t irresponsible. Had she had an accident? Surely she couldn’t still be in the bath?
He opened the door quietly, and his breath left him in a soft huff of relief, mingled with regret and a deep and painful yearning.
Oh, Daisy.
She was in the bath, her eyes closed, fingers loosely wrapped around a wine glass balanced precariously on her sternum, and through the very few bubbles that still floated on the surface, he could see her chest rising and falling gently, rocking the half-full glass with every breath.
Sleeping Beauty meets the Siren on the Rocks, he thought, and walked up to her, perching on the edge of the bath and staring down at her, mesmerised. God, she was gorgeous. Even like that, with her mouth hanging slightly open and her fingers round a wine glass, looking for all the world like a lush.
He smiled fondly and eased the glass out of her fingers, waking her abruptly. Startled, she sat up, clutching her arms across her chest and staring at him with wild eyes as the water sloshed and settled. Then she let out her breath on a gasp.
‘Ben! Gosh, you scared the living daylights out of me. Is Florence all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ he said, stifling a smile. ‘Why don’t you get out of there and dry off and come downstairs and I’ll get you another glass of wine. Have you eaten tonight?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not yet. What’s the time? The water’s freezing.’
‘I’m not surprised, it’s ten o’clock. I’ll call a takeaway. What do you fancy?’
She looked at him, her lips parting slightly, her eyes unreadable in the soft flood of light from the landing. He thought she might be blushing, and it made him want to smile. Or kiss her.
‘Anything. Go away, Ben—and shut the door behind you!’ she squeaked, her modesty returning as she woke up properly.
He left her with the tatters of her dignity, changed his trousers because they’d got soaked when she sat up so abruptly, and went downstairs to phone for a takeaway. Even if he had to go out again before it arrived, she could eat, and if she was feeling mellow maybe she’d even save him some.
She came down a few minutes later, wrapped in her dressing gown and looking tousled and delectable. She smelt gorgeous, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been crabby,’ she said, before he could do anything so rash. Just as well. And maybe it would make sense to talk.
‘Why have you? Because I gatecrashed your picnic?’
‘Partly,’ she admitted. ‘It took it from me babysitting to something else, something we’d agreed we wouldn’t do any more. And then when we got there, there was all that silly nonsense with the daisies.’
‘What silly nonsense was that?’ he asked, perfectly serious, and her heart thumped in her chest.
‘You were pushing my buttons, Ben.’
‘I was telling you that I still love you.’
She felt her eyes fill, and looked hastily away. ‘Ben, we can’t—’
‘Why can’t we? I’ve been thinking about it a lot—endlessly, in fact. About why you’re so worried about us. And I don’t think it’s anything to do with Florence—’
‘I don’t want to hurt her!’
‘But you won’t. She adores you, Daisy, and you adore her. And I know you’ll never hurt her.’
‘But she will be hurt—when we split up, she will be hurt.’
‘What if we don’t?’
She turned slowly and looked at him. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying maybe we didn’t give ourselves enough time. Maybe we didn’t get to know each other well enough. As far as Daisy’s concerned, you’re just a friend of mine who lives next door and does stuff with us occasionally. If we give ourselves another chance, spend some time alone together, without changing anything with Florence, then maybe we could learn to trust each other. Maybe we could make it work.’
‘And if we can’t?’
‘Then she won’t be hurt any more than she is now, and at least we will have tried.’
She felt a tiny stirring of hope, but she didn’t dare let it grow. Not just yet.
‘What about Jane? What will she think?’
‘Don’t worry about Jane. I saw her yesterday when I picked Florence up, and Peter arrived while I was there. He’s there for the weekend, and he scooped Florence up and gave her a big kiss hello, and she hugged him and called him Uncle Peter. And Jane took me on one side and told me that they’re thinking of getting married. And Florence doesn’t seem even slightly fazed by him being around.’
‘Are you?’ she asked, reading his eyes carefully, because Mike would have gone into orbit if his wife had even looked at another man, but Ben just shook his head.
‘Why would I be? Except in so far as it affects Florence, and it really doesn’t seem to. She clearly likes him, and Jane’s been in love with him for years. He wouldn’t marry her before because he was in the army bomb disposal team, and he didn’t want her ending up a widow. We met at a mutual friend’s wedding a few months after they split up, and I think she’d decided then that it was time to move on. And I was there, physically and mentally sound, single, ready for a permanent relationship, and I had decent career prospects. And if she couldn’t have Peter, then I ticked all the necessary boxes. And then she forgot to take her pill one day and got pregnant.’
‘So you married her.’
‘Yes. She was having my child, and to be honest she ticked the boxes for me in the same sort of way. Matt tried to warn me that it wasn’t enough, but he had his own problems at the time and I ignored him, because following his heart didn’t seem to have done him any good. And after we were married, I realised he was right. Jane was lonely, she wanted to come back here to be near her family, and of course she missed Peter. He’s from round here, too, and I think that was a big part of her wanting to come back.’
‘Did you know about him?’ she asked, appalled that he might have found out after they were married—or at least, after it was too late.
‘I did by then. She’d realised she didn’t love me, and she didn’t want to be with me. She said it wouldn’t be good for Florence anyway to have unhappy parents who were stuck with each other in a relationship that was going nowhere. I didn’t agree at the time, I thought she was using me and maybe had all along, but maybe I agree now, now I can see that it works. Anyway, we split up and she moved up here, and as soon as I could get a job in the area, I was to move closer so I could share Florence’s care. And in the time it took for that to happen, Peter came back into her life.’
‘But I thought he was still in the army?’
‘He is, but he’s just reaching the end of his commission and he’ll be UK based now to the end, but you’ve only got to see them together to see how well it works for them. I know they’ll be all right, and he’s a thoroughly decent guy.’
Her heart was thumping. ‘So—you’re not worried about Florence being upset by you having a relationship with me? If—if we felt it could work? I mean—really work.’
He gave a fleeting smile, and grazed her cheek gently with his knuckles. ‘No. Not at all. Not now I know you, because I know you’d never hurt her. Jane says she talks about you all the time and seems very fond of you, and if we don’t involve her any more than we already have until we’re both utterly sure about it, then I can’t see it’ll do her any harm. And I can’t go on like this, Daisy. I really miss you, and I really want to see if what we’ve got could work. I’m not on call after tomorrow, and Jane’s better now, so Florence will be back there from tomorrow night.’
And they could be alone. It was written in his eyes, in the longing and hope she could read there so clearly, and it echoed the longing she didn’t dare give a voice to.
‘Please give me a chance,’ he went on, his voice serious. ‘Let me prove to you that this can work. Give me this coming week—and next weekend. Maybe Jane can have Florence and we can spend some time together doing fun stuff.’
‘I might be working.’
‘You aren’t. I changed the rota.’
She opened her mouth to tell him not to interfere, and then she caught the uncertainty in his eyes.
‘OK,’ she said, capitulating, but with reservations. ‘We’ll try. This week. I don’t know about the weekend yet.’
‘Just don’t rule it out.’
He hugged her briefly, but before her arms could come up and circle him and hold him to her heart, the knocker sounded.
‘That’ll be our food,’ he said, and let her go, and she sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes.
What on earth had she just done?
She woke up on Monday morning tingling with anticipation. Ben had been called out again Sunday night and he’d sent her home.
‘Tomorrow. I don’t want any interruptions,’ he’d said, with a promise in his eyes, and she’d gone home to bed alone. It was lovely to sleep in it again, after a week on Ben’s sofa bed, and she woke refreshed and looking forward to going to work for the first time since their breakup.
Ever since then she’d been avoiding him, trying to keep out of his way, and when they’d been forced together there’d been a tension that she was sure everyone would have felt.
But now—now it was back to how it had been, working together seamlessly through the ward round and the routine of the morning, then Mel and Adrian Grieves came into the antenatal clinic for their check-up scan on the monoamniotic twins. They were twenty four weeks now, and although there was a loose tangle that didn’t seem to want to untangle, both twins were growing well, their heartbeats were strong and healthy, and Ben was happy.
So were the parents.
‘Are they viable now?’ Mel asked, and Ben pulled a face.
‘At a push. I wouldn’t want to deliver them yet, not for at least eight more weeks, but they would stand a chance now, yes.’
The tension went out of her, and her husband squeezed her shoulder as her eyes welled with tears. ‘I’ve been so scared for them. It just seems to have been such a long time.’
‘Well, it isn’t over yet, but we’ll have you in in a few more weeks—maybe two? The cords are tangled, and I do have a little bit of concern, but at the moment they’re fine and I’m happy to leave them. If they get another loop in that tangle, I’ll want you here, so maybe from next week have a bag in the car with you, just in case. OK?’
She nodded, looking almost excited, as if for the first time she dared to let herself believe it could be all right.
‘Do you think they’ll make it?’ Daisy asked Ben when they’d left.
‘I hope so. I want you in charge of them when she’s admitted. Daily scans, Doppler three times a day, at least, and really close scrutiny. If she feels they’re moving a lot it could be because there’s a problem, so I want her checked again then, day or night.’
He broke off and met her eyes searchingly. ‘You will be here, won’t you? Until we deliver them? I really want you in charge of the day-to-day running of this case, even if we…’
‘Don’t you trust Evan?’
‘Trust? Yes, of course I do, he’s a box-ticker and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them, but I don’t think he’s right for Mel. I want you,’ he said quietly. ‘Mel knows you, and so do I. And you don’t have an ego so you won’t try to go it alone if you’re worried.’
She gave a wry little laugh. ‘Fair point. But there aren’t any jobs for me to go to anyway, so even if we decide it doesn’t work, you’ll be stuck with me for a while, so, yeah, I’ll be here.’
His gaze didn’t flicker from her eyes. ‘Good, because I feel we could be getting somewhere now. Give us time, Daisy. Please. And have a little faith in me.’
She felt her smile slip, and nodded. ‘I will. And whatever happens, I’ll stay for the twins at least.’
He levered himself off the edge of the desk and took her shoulders in his hands. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, and folded he
r into his arms for a brief and gentle hug. Then dropping a kiss on her hair, he eased away and swatted her lightly on the bottom. ‘Off you go, Dr Daisy, before I do something unprofessional to you halfway through the antenatal clinic. And I’m cooking for you tonight, by the way.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said, and went off to find her next patient, her heart lighter than it had been for weeks.
He sent her off for a relaxing bath in her lovely sanctuary when she got home from work, and when she came down, the dining room was transformed.
He’d cooked her a meal, laid the table, lit candles—but they didn’t get that far. He poured her a glass of wine, handed it to her and kissed her fleetingly, then the wine glass ended up on the table and she ended up in his arms.
‘Oh, Daisy, I’ve missed you so damn much,’ he said raggedly into her hair, cradling her close. ‘Missed having you to myself, missed spending time alone with you doing nothing in particular, just being with you. And it feels so good just to hold you.’
She lifted her head and looked up into his eyes. ‘Will supper keep?’
He went over to the hob, drained the potatoes, turned off the heat under the casserole and came back to her. ‘It will now,’ he said, smiling as he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her lingeringly. ‘Did you have anything special in mind?’
They ate later, with the candles burned down and the casserole well and truly tender, and Tabitha mugged him for scraps which he gave her without question.
‘You shouldn’t feed her at the table,’ she said disapprovingly, but in fact she was glad he did, glad he didn’t mind the cat, because she was spending more and more time next door, and on Saturday night she’d slept on Florence’s bed. And if—
Don’t jump the gun! she warned herself, and put another scoop of his delicious casserole on her plate.
‘No!’ she told the cat and put her on the floor. ‘You see what you’ve done?’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Mmm. Turned her into a normal cat. What a shame. Do you want these green beans, or shall I finish them?’
Tempted by Dr. Daisy Page 15
