Twice as Good

by Alison Roberts

  It was the faint smell of singeing that roused Janet from the melancholy the memory left her with. She brushed the tears from her cheeks with irritation.

  ‘You got over that years ago,’ she reminded herself harshly. ‘There’s no reason to dredge it all up again.’

  Except now there was every reason, thanks to Jamie McFadden. Why had he come here? It was too awful a prospect to consider that he might have come looking for her. If she was going to cope with this at all she would have to assume it was simply a bad card in the hand fate had dealt. It was only temporary and she’d told Jamie she could cope. Janet had coped with a great deal over the last seven and a half years. She was an expert.

  Her expertise in coping with her sons was called on heavily the following morning and it was harder than usual, thanks to her late night and a very poor sleep.

  ‘Why can’t we have Pop Tarts for breakfast?’ Adam demanded.

  ‘Turn your T-shirt out the right way,’ Janet instructed. ‘And brush your hair. Rory, where are your shoes?’

  ‘I can’t find them.’

  ‘They were on the back step last night.’ Janet frowned at Adam who stamped out of the kitchen to attend to his hair. She turned back to Rory. ‘Have you looked for your shoes?’

  ‘Yes. Why can’t we have Fruity Loops for breakfast?’

  ‘Because you’re having porridge.’

  ‘Porridge sucks.’

  ‘Mum!’ Adam wailed from upstairs. ‘Where’s my hairbrush?’

  ‘Where you left it,’ Janet shouted back. ‘Hurry up. Breakfast is ready.’

  The boys sat down reluctantly at the small kitchen table. Three bowls of porridge steamed vigorously and sat untouched, like a scene from Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

  ‘Ben’s rat has had babies,’ Rory informed Janet.

  ‘Mmm.’ Janet tried to sound enthusiastic. ‘Eat up. It’s nearly time to go.’

  The twins both reached for the sugar bowl at the same time. The resultant scuffle left a sticky layer of brown sugar over the table. Janet intervened when they both lunged for the milk bottle. She poured it herself.

  ‘That’s too much milk,’ Rory said disgustedly. ‘Yuck!’

  ‘Ben said we could have a baby rat, Mum.’ Adam took a mouthful of his porridge.

  ‘Did he?’ Janet had finished her breakfast. She put the bowl into the sink and began to wipe the sugar from the table top.

  ‘Can we?’

  ‘No.’ Janet moved back to the bench and started sorting out the lunch box supplies. The sandwiches had been made last night when the ironing had been completed.

  ‘Can we have a dog instead, then?’

  ‘No.’ Janet added fruit and muesli bars to the boxes.

  ‘Why can’t we buy lunch?’ Adam asked petulantly.

  Janet sighed. This was a routine they went through every second day. Why couldn’t the boys discover it was boring on top of being ineffective? ‘Because it’s too expensive.’

  ‘Ben has fish and chips every day.’

  ‘Ben will get fat, have a lot of pimples and end up with early heart disease.’ Janet glanced at the boys. Rory was making roads with his spoon through his half-eaten porridge. She removed the bowls. ‘Go and wash your faces and clean your teeth. Make sure your homework books are in your bags. And, Rory—find your shoes. We’re leaving in two minutes.’

  It took five minutes to find the shoes, which Janet discovered sitting on the back step in full view. It took another five to get the boys into the car. They ran through the school gates just as the bell was ringing and Janet was five minutes late for her 9 a.m. start at St David’s.

  Outboard was sitting on the reception counter, surveying the mercifully empty waiting room. Sandy Smith smiled brightly.

  ‘Morning, Janet.’

  ‘Morning, Sandy. Have you recovered from yesterday?’

  Sandy rolled her eyes. ‘I think so. I hope today’s a bit quieter.’

  ‘Bound to be.’ Janet wasn’t going to tempt fate again. ‘Is Oliver here yet?’

  ‘Yes. He’s in the staffroom with Jamie.’ Sandy looked away but Janet detected a faint rise in her colour as she mentioned their locum’s name. Janet’s heart sank. That was all she needed. A smitten eighteen-year-old reminding her of how she’d felt when she’d first met Jamie McFadden. How even mentioning his name had quickened her pulse rate and made it difficult to concentrate on whatever task she’d been assigned. Thank goodness she didn’t have to cope with feeling attracted to the man any more.

  Hearing the rich sound of his brogue moments later, Janet dismissed the skip of her pulse as trepidation. She carried on to the staffroom resolutely.

  ‘Morning, Jamie. Morning, Oliver. How was Sophie this morning?’

  ‘Not too bad. Still throwing up. She’s going to ask the air hostess for a supply of those paper bags to take to the exams.’

  ‘Poor thing.’ Janet opened the refrigerator to put away the yoghurt she’d brought for her lunch. At the periphery of her vision she could see Jamie sitting at the table. His body posture was relaxed, his hands idly mangling the tubing of a stethoscope. Janet shut the fridge door firmly enough to make the contents rattle. How on earth could just the sight of a man’s hands be responsible for a wave of sensation that felt horribly like physical attraction? Because she knew those particular hands and what they were capable of doing to her body? Had been capable of doing, Janet reminded herself grimly. Past tense. The only emotion their presence should evoke now was embarrassment. And maybe that’s what it was. That would explain why her cheeks felt so warm.

  ‘All quiet on the Western Front?’ Oliver queried.

  ‘So far.’ Janet nodded politely at Jamie. ‘Maybe you’ll get an idea of a more normal day at St David’s today.’

  ‘I’ll cope,’ Jamie responded. His smile was bland. ‘I’m ready for anything after yesterday.’ The intense scrutiny he was subjecting Janet to belied his casual tone and smile. Janet drew in a quick breath. Was that a challenge she was receiving? Or an invitation? Oliver had noticed an undercurrent as well. Unseen by Jamie, he winked at Janet, who almost groaned aloud. Instead, she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘What time slot do you want set aside for repeat prescriptions today, Oliver?’

  ‘Make it 11.30. If there are any house calls needed I’ll do them at lunchtime.’ Oliver turned to Jamie. ‘We don’t charge patients for an appointment when they just need a repeat but we like to do a quick check and have a chat to make sure there are no problems with side effects and so on. We can generally fit in as many as are needed in half an hour.’

  ‘Are house calls standard practice?’

  ‘No. Only emergencies or our rest home and terminally ill patients.’

  ‘I’ll need a good map if you want to send me out. I’m hopeless at navigating.’

  ‘Just toss a coin at the intersections.’ Janet was horrified when the suggestion popped out. Jamie’s glance in her direction was instantaneous and intense. What was she trying to do? Stir up old memories and make things even more difficult? Oliver hadn’t noticed anything untoward.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured Jamie. ‘If you do need to go out you can take Janet with you.’

  That’ll be the day, Janet thought fiercely. She’d run a mile before she sat in a car alone with Jamie McFadden. She had every intention of avoiding even being alone in a room with him if possible. Thank goodness for the patients. Janet’s morning began quietly but quickly picked up momentum.

  Mrs Crowe’s diabetic ulcer needed dressing. She was also due for her six monthly check of weight, blood pressure, pedal pulses and eyes. It was Jamie who popped in to conduct the examination with an ophthalmoscope.

  ‘Have you done the Snellen chart?’ he asked Janet.

  ‘Of course. There’s actually been an improvement since Mrs Crowe’s last test.’

  ‘New glasses,’ their patient explained. ‘They’re wonderful.’

  Jamie smiled at Mrs Crowe. ‘Makes a differ
ence, doesn’t it? Can you take them off for a wee minute? I just want to shine this bright light in your eyes and check that your diabetes isn’t affecting the blood vessels. Look straight ahead and fix your eyes on an object. Try not to blink.’

  Jamie leaned close, steadying Mrs Crowe’s head with one hand. The ophthalmoscope was held against his own eye and he moved his head and the instrument together as though fused into a single piece of equipment. Janet could sense his level of concentration and couldn’t resist the opportunity to study his face.

  It was a very Glaswegian face. Rather craggy, with strong features and almost harsh lines. A menacing face when angry. It was the humour in those brown eyes and the mobility of his mouth that brought Jamie’s face to life and made it so attractive. There were more lines around his eyes now, and a furrow on his brow that suggested frowns had become nearly as familiar as the smiles she remembered. Had life hardened Jamie McFadden and chased some of the humour away? Jamie looked up suddenly and Janet flinched, caught out in her scrutiny.

  ‘Mrs Crowe’s eyes look fine,’ he reported. ‘I’ll make a note on her file. Are you taking any bloods?’

  ‘Yes. We’re watching Mrs Crowe’s cholesterol level carefully at present.’

  ‘Good.’ Jamie straightened, handing the ophthalmoscope to Janet. ‘That’s you, then, Mrs Crowe.’ He nodded at his patient, before catching Janet’s gaze again. This time she was ready. ‘Anything else you need me for at the moment?’

  ‘No.’ Janet held the gaze. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

  Fortunately, that remained the case for the rest of the morning. Janet saw Mrs Terence who needed a new supply of nicotine replacement patches and encouragement in her smoking cessation programme. She syringed old Mr Shaw’s ears, took blood to measure the digoxin levels in Brian Talley’s blood, re-sterilised all the minor surgery equipment and spent some time on the phone, chasing down a twelvemonth-old CT scan result that Oliver wanted for a new patient.

  Oliver went out to make a house call during the lunch-break and Janet ate her yoghurt quickly, knowing that Jamie was still seeing a patient. She would look after the front office while Sandy had a break and hopefully she would avoid any time alone with Jamie. Making a cup of tea to take with her, Janet was interrupted by the phone call Sandy redirected to the staffroom.

  ‘Hullo, Madeleine.’ Janet was on first-name terms with the headmistress of the boys’ school. The amount of contact they’d had since the twins had begun their education meant they knew each other rather well. Janet’s heart sank as Madeleine Banes spoke. She recognised a major issue when it was broached. What had the boys been up to now?

  ‘Have you got time to come down to school for a chat today?’ Miss Banes asked casually.

  Janet observed Jamie’s entry to the staffroom with some dismay. She could hardly request time off to visit the local primary school for half an hour without Jamie wondering what her involvement might be.

  ‘It’s a little difficult today, Madeleine,’ Janet said apologetically. ‘What’s the problem exactly?’

  ‘It’s the boys’ reading,’ Madeleine explained. ‘Their teacher’s just done some testing and she’s rather worried. I mentioned a reading recovery programme to you a while back. I think we need to get the boys some specialist help but I don’t want you to get alarmed about it. That’s why I thought we should have a chat.’

  ‘How serious do you think it is?’ Janet stepped to one side of the bench as Jamie reached for a teabag and a mug. At least it sounded as if she could be discussing a medical condition.

  ‘The basic skills are in place, such as handling books, using visual clues and left-to-right eye movement. It’s the basic vocabulary and initial consonant skills that are a problem. And the comprehension.’

  ‘Ah.’ Janet tried to sound professionally detached. ‘That does sound like a problem.’

  ‘It’s not that they’re at all slow,’ Madeleine continued. ‘If anything, they’re too bright. They can’t be bothered trying to work out what a word actually is so they just make up substitutes. They can rattle off a story in no time flat.’ Miss Banes laughed. ‘The ones they come up with are often better than the original. Especially Rory’s. He’s very imaginative.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Janet watched Jamie add sugar to his tea. He cast a sidelong glance at her, then moved to the table, picking up a copy of the GP Weekly.

  ‘Unfortunately, it’s not reading,’ Miss Banes said sadly.

  ‘No.’ Janet wanted to wind the conversation up. She felt nervous, having Jamie so close. ‘I think you’re absolutely right, Madeleine. Some specialist attention is called for.’ There. That sounded very medical. ‘Is there anything else you need from me at present?’

  ‘Ah …’ The headmistress sounded faintly puzzled. ‘Well, once the programme is under way we’d like to get you involved. Reinforcement at home is vital.’

  ‘Of course,’ Janet agreed. ‘I’m more than happy to do that. It’s not a field I’ve had much experience in, though.’

  ‘A lot of it is just showing interest and providing encouragement,’ Madeleine said warmly. ‘You’re a great mother, Janet. You do that by instinct anyway. I know it’s not easy, being a single parent, and you’ve got quite a handful there.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s nice to get the encouragement myself. Thanks for calling, Madeleine. I’ll look forward to hearing how things go.’ Janet finished the call, congratulating herself on failing to arouse any suspicions in Jamie. Perhaps keeping the children a secret would be easier than she’d feared.

  Her confidence lasted until after 4 p.m. The after-school rush kept them all busy, with ear and throat infections being the order of the day for the doctors. Janet was labelling another throat-swab sample when Jamie entered the treatment room.

  ‘I need the tympanometer again,’ he told her.

  ‘It’s over there beside the autoclave.’ Janet put the plastic tube holding the swab into a sample bag and sealed it.

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘Oh.’ Janet looked around the room. ‘It must be here somewhere, unless Oliver took it when I wasn’t looking.’

  Sandy Smith appeared in the doorway. She was advertising some urgency with her message. ‘Mrs Carpenter’s on the phone,’ she told Janet anxiously. ‘She says the boys have just burnt down her garden shed and could you please come and take them home?’

  Janet gasped. ‘Are they hurt?’

  ‘She says they’re fine. There’s a policeman talking to them. They’d like to talk to you as well.’

  ‘Tell her I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ Janet quickly scribbled on the sample bag and stapled the request form to the top. As Sandy scurried away, Janet became aware of the stunned immobility of the man standing nearby.

  ‘The boys?’ Jamie pronounced incredulously. ‘You have children?’

  ‘Yes.’ Janet flashed him a defensive glance. There was no point in trying to keep them a secret now, but there was no way Jamie McFadden was going to find out the whole truth. ‘I have two boys.’

  ‘Two?’

  Janet was rapidly clearing her bench. ‘Last time I counted,’ she agreed casually.

  ‘And who’s Mrs Carpenter?’

  ‘The babysitter,’ Janet informed him tightly. She could see what he thought of her mothering skills. No need for telepathy here—it was written all over his face. And no wonder. Had burning the shed down been an accident … or arson? Janet turned to leave but found her arm gripped. She tried to shake free. Jamie McFadden had no right to touch her. She could feel the intensity in the vice-like grip and met Jamie’s stare defiantly—daring him to ask any more personal questions. He did.

  ‘You’re still using your maiden name. How was I supposed to know you were married?’

  ‘I’m not,’ Janet snapped. ‘Being unmarried is hardly an effective contraceptive, unfortunately.’

  ‘Bit careless, letting it happen twice,’ Jamie said incredulously. ‘How old are these boys?’

  ‘Five.’ The lie was act
ually quite difficult to get past her lips. Janet found herself succumbing to the childish gesture of putting her free arm behind her back and crossing her fingers. ‘Nearly six,’ she added, for good measure.

  ‘What—both of them?’

  ‘They’re twins.’ Janet’s tone became sarcastic. ‘You know, when two babies are born at the same time?’

  She could see the rapid calculations going on in Jamie’s brain as he slowly released his hold on her arm. As long as he believed the ages she’d given, he couldn’t possibly associate these children with himself.

  ‘What about their father?’ Jamie still sounded stunned.

  Janet rubbed at her arm. She could still feel the imprint of Jamie’s fingers. Then she turned away abruptly, reaching for the bag she’d tucked under her desk. ‘Their father was never interested and will never have anything to do with them. I’ve managed fine so far.’

  ‘Sounds like it,’ Jamie murmured. ‘Do they often burn down buildings when you’re not looking?’

  ‘This is none of your business, Jamie.’ Janet kept her voice low, her eye on the treatment-room door. ‘Nothing to do with me is any of your business,’ she added vehemently. ‘You’re here for six weeks and then you’ll disappear from my life—again. The less we have to do with each other in the meantime, the better.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE silence around the dinner table was oppressive.

  The reheated, leftover sausages were unappealing despite the gravy Janet had used to disguise them. No wonder the twins were eating as slowly as humanly possible. Janet put down her own fork.

  ‘How could you?’ she asked again sadly. ‘How could you do it?’

  ‘We didn’t mean to, Mum.’ Adam’s wide brown eyes filled with tears. ‘It was an accident. We were just playing with the magnifying glass and the paper.’