by Becky Wicks
The mother of their patient had short blonde hair cropped close to her head, and a scarlet red sports jacket zipped to the neck that belied the warm weather. Freya perched on the edge of the couch close to Lucas—so close he could have pulled her onto his lap. He could see a hint of her bare leg and the blue of her pencil skirt, and he suddenly ached to be back in bed with her again.
‘As Dr Van de Berg explained before,’ Freya said, just the sound of her voice causing momentary flashbacks to them writhing naked, early that morning, making the most of the ten-minute snooze button she’d just pressed on her alarm clock, ‘the minimally invasive procedure he performed on your pectus excavatum, or your sunken chest—’
‘I prefer the first one, my coach said it sounds like a magic spell—pectus excavatum.’
‘OK...well, the procedure went very well. The operation took only two small incisions and forty-five minutes of operating time, but even though you experienced much less pain, and minimal blood loss, and you’re healing much faster than you would have done if another doctor had performed a more invasive surgery, you have to remember, Valerie, your body still went through a huge trauma with this condition. You need to give yourself time to heal. I would advise you to postpone all training for at least three months.’
Valerie looked outraged, then close to tears. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled with Freya’s proposal. ‘Three months?’ She turned to her mother. ‘Mum, you know I can’t afford to leave it that long, the team needs me on board. I can’t take three months out. Coach will have to replace me. My life will be over.’
‘You just said I saved your life,’ Lucas interjected, arching an eyebrow.
Valerie opened her mouth to argue but closed it again.
‘I would listen to Dr Grey’s advice,’ he said into the teen’s narrowed green eyes. ‘Three months, no football. After that we’ll review the situation.’
Valerie swiped at her eyes, then stood dramatically. ‘I need to rehydrate,’ she announced, making for the door.
‘Stay off that Twitter thing!’ her mother called out. ‘Not everyone needs to know everything, you know.’
When she was gone, Mrs Maijer-Schrot exhaled the longest sigh he’d heard from anyone in weeks, including himself.
It hadn’t been the easiest of times following Martijn’s death. Losing someone to a heart problem was an unfortunate part of his role, one he had come to accept was bound to happen from time to time. But Martijn hadn’t been a patient, he’d been a friend, and worse than that he hadn’t known anything was wrong with Martijn. He doubted Martijn had known either.
Thinking about Martijn lying lifeless on the floor still rocked him into silent grief from time to time, even amidst the success stories. People knew him only as a highly skilled surgeon with an unprecedented success rate on paediatric patients like stubborn teenager Valerie, but no one here knew the concern he still felt over his inability to have helped poor Martijn three weeks ago. No one except Freya.
Seeing her face every day, working as a team at difficult moments like this, and burying himself in her most nights wasn’t eradicating his grief entirely, but it was like a soothing balm to his wounds. A convenient distraction. He wouldn’t allow himself to think beyond that right now, and he was certain she wasn’t either.
‘She wants to get a scholarship,’ Mrs Maijer-Schrot told them, playing with the zip of her jacket. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘She didn’t,’ Lucas said, watching Freya as she took his giant bouquet of flowers to the desk in the corner. She went about arranging them in the vase as they spoke.
‘She’s sports-mad, as if you didn’t know. It’s her life. She’s been talking about getting that scholarship for years. She’s worried that if she doesn’t she won’t be considered.’
‘She has plenty of time to think about that,’ he said.
‘She’s very ambitious,’ the woman enthused. ‘She isn’t used to hearing she can’t do something.’
‘We’ll have to see how she progresses. If she gets enough rest, there’s no reason she won’t be able to realise those ambitions.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Mrs Maijer-Schrot looked weary. Freya spoke now.
‘I’m not going to lie,’ she said, crossing back over to them. ‘One of the most difficult but most frequent questions I get asked by parents like you, wherever I am in the world, is what’s going to happen to their child—not just tomorrow, but in three to five years, and even beyond that. You’re not alone to wonder things like this, Mrs Maijer-Schrot.’
‘That’s absolutely right,’ Lucas added. ‘Parents ask me things like will their son or daughter live to take a solo trip, or walk down the aisle or, like Valerie, go to university. And most of the time unfortunately they really do anticipate those things not happening...’
‘Sometimes, they’re right to think that,’ Freya continued. ‘Especially in developing countries, where they can’t even afford to dream the kind of things we dream. In fact, I’m considering applying for a role at a hospital in Vietnam where there are a lot of kids Valerie’s age who might not have fared so well with her condition, for many reasons.’
Lucas heard the word Vietnam as though it came from a great distance, and he let the word sink into his brain, with everything it represented. Freya kept on talking, and he watched her pink lips, gritting his teeth.
‘Mrs Maijer-Schrot, my point is, we’re in a privileged position here to have been able to help your daughter. And Valerie is in a privileged position to have all the care she needs going forward, making it very likely her ambitions won’t suffer long term. We can’t make any promises, but...’ she turned to him now, but he didn’t look back at her ‘...she doesn’t seem concerned about her scars, which is a good thing...’
‘On the contrary, she’s proud of those,’ her mother said. ‘Did you not see her photos? I think she tagged you in some, Dr Van de Berg.’
‘Fortunately not. I don’t have much time for social media,’ Lucas answered abruptly, getting to his feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to my next appointment. I’m sure Dr Grey can finish addressing any remaining concerns you may have.’
‘Of course,’ Freya said with a slight frown.
He picked up his phone and notes from the table and again avoided her eyes.
He’d seen the printouts about the role in Ho Chi Minh on her cluttered dining table. She hadn’t tried to hide them, but she hadn’t thrown them out either. This only confirmed what he’d already strongly suspected. Their new sexual relationship was just a fling. Freya saw the end of it already, just as he’d been telling himself, so why did he suddenly feel so betrayed?
* * *
Freya heard his voice in the hallway before she turned the corner. Lucas was standing with his arms folded across his chest, talking to a woman she’d never seen before. The woman was older, animated, in her mid-sixties and tall. Her purple summer scarf and red cropped trousers were so bright they looked as if petals from the giant tulips had bounced off the white walls onto her. She was gesturing enthusiastically as she spoke, but stopped when she saw her, lowering her silver-rimmed glasses down her nose to check her name badge.
‘Oh, it’s Freya Grey!’she rejoiced. ‘Fred’s been asking about you. I’m Mira Van de Berg, Lucas’s mother. How wonderful to meet you.’ She extended her hand and Lucas stepped back. Mira’s grip was firm. Freya racked her brains. ‘Fred?’
‘My father,’ Lucas said, but he looked as surprised as she was. He lowered his voice, walked them both over to the corner. ‘Mum, how can Dad have been talking about Freya? He’s never met her.’
Mira put a hand on his arm, wriggling her eyebrows. ‘Your dad’s not entirely senile. He has his moments, yes, but other times he’s still very sharp. He said you were talking about Freya weeks ago, like you were interested in dating her...’
‘Mira, please, we’re at work.’
Lucas seemed to be struggling to maintain his usual dignified demeanour all of a sudden, but Freya couldn’t help laughing in spite of herself. She crossed her arms to mirror him, looked at him sideways. ‘Is that right?’
‘And I can see why,’ Mira said, taking off her glasses to emphasise another appraisal. ‘What a goddess you are. And a doctor too. I keep saying, Freya, that Lucas really needs to find himself a good woman, one who’s actually going to stick around and—’
‘OK, Mum, thank you. Aren’t you going to be late for the acupuncturist?’ Lucas took his mother’s arm and all but marched her towards the exit, but Mira was giggling now, and so was Freya.
‘Oh, don’t be so sensitive, Lucas.’ Mira stopped short by the door and removed her elbow from his grip, just as Ruud pushed through with Pieter. They both looked delighted to see her.
‘Mrs Van de Berg! How long has it been?’ they cooed in sync, and both guys made shows of air-kissing her cheeks and making small talk about the weather and loving her outfit.
‘She used to come in a lot to say hi, she has regular acupuncture appointments for her arthritis in the next building,’ Lucas explained to Freya. ‘But I think it’s her way of spying on me.’
‘You’re quite correct. I have no life of my own at all.’ Mira rolled her eyes at the obvious lie, then straightened the lapel of his coat. Pieter and Ruud exchanged amused looks before excusing themselves.
Mira Van de Berg was hilarious, and she was clearly a force of nature. She was at least five feet eleven, with short cropped grey hair, a husky laugh, and an infectious sense of humour. It didn’t take much to picture her making homes for imaginary elves.
‘I do like those boys,’ Mira said with a sigh when they were gone. ‘So very polite. I’d invite them to dinner too...’
‘No, don’t invite them to any dinners, Mum, they don’t know about Dad’s condition.’
Mira looked affronted. ‘Why not? Having a family member with Alzheimer’s is nothing to be ashamed of or to hide, Lucas. It’s not like he’s developed bubonic plague.’ She put a hand over her mouth suddenly, turning to Freya. ‘Are you not supposed to know either, for some reason?’
Lucas dragged a hand through his hair, then checked his watch. ‘Freya knows. But she’s the only one, and you know I’m not ashamed of him. I’m not the one who wants to put him in a home. There’s just a lot going on here right now and I need my team to know I’m on the ball.’
‘Well, Freya should come to dinner, then,’ Mira said, ignoring him. To Freya’s surprise the woman reached out and pressed a thumb to her upper cheek and wiped something away firmly in a motherly fashion she wasn’t used to.
‘You had a touch of mascara there,’ Mira said kindly, patting her arm. Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Lucas’s, warm, brimming over with love. The similarity stunned her into silence. ‘Listen, you must come over tonight. We’re making one of Fred’s favourites. I’m trying to remind him of all the things he loves, and I know he’d love to meet you after hearing so much about you...’
At the look on Lucas’s face, Mira held both hands in the air as if to surrender. ‘OK, OK... I’ll leave you to your work. See you both later, yes? Eight p.m.’
‘I um... I can’t, I’m sorry,’ Freya said, finally finding her voice. ‘I have to feed and walk the dog.’
‘Oh, bring him! Fred loves dogs,’ Mira enthused. ‘Lucas, do bring that lovely wine again—oh, and the cookbook you borrowed? Thank you. OK, see you both later.’
With that she bustled off and Lucas was left looking at his green shoelaces like they were the sole survivors of the hurricane that had just blown through.
‘So, you’ve been talking to your dad about me, have you?’ Freya said, surprised at how the thought made her feel warm inside, a new kind of affection that had nothing to do with lust or carnal desire, or any of the other things he’d been making her feel since they’d decided to indulge in their heated sexual encounters. A fling felt good, and well deserved. Even if he wanted nothing more, she’d be OK with that, she told herself. Probably...
Every time she thought about leaving, she felt torn. It was strange; she’d never felt like this before.
‘I’m surprised he remembers,’ Lucas said gruffly. To her shock he seemed suddenly colder, distant.
‘Is something wrong?’
His jaw was spasming, and she couldn’t read his guarded expression. She had a terrible, unsettling feeling that he was about to retract his mother’s lovely invitation, when she was quite excited to see the enigmatic Mira Van de Berg again.
An even more frightening realisation hit her next. She would care a lot if he didn’t want her there, and over the past few blissful weeks in his arms she had decided not to let real feelings get in the way of their fling.
She watched his face for signs of things he wasn’t saying. ‘Do you not want me to come to your parents’ house for dinner?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean, I want you there. I’ll only face Mum’s wrath if you’re not.’
‘Are you sure?’ She tried to read his eyes. He didn’t sound totally convinced.
‘I’ll pick you and Shadow up,’ he said resolutely, though he was looking at Joy approaching them now from the other end of the hallway.
‘In the boat?’
‘No. We need the car to visit my parents’ place. I’m pretty sure it’s not what you’re expecting.’
Before she could ask what he meant, he was gone, and Joy had stopped in front of her.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Violet is asking for you.’
‘I’ll go see her. Thanks, Joy.’
Joy held her back by her sleeve. ‘Did I just hear you say you were going to Lucas’s parents’ place?’
Freya held her breath. ‘Yes,’ she admitted after a moment. ‘His mother just invited me.’
Joy nodded, biting the corner of her mouth. ‘I had a feeling something was going on...the way you look at each other.’
Freya put her hands on Joy’s shoulders as her heartbeat rose to her throat. ‘I would have told you, but I don’t even really know myself what this thing is. I mean, other than a fling...’
‘Pieter told me already. I asked him why the vacuum cleaner was broken. I just didn’t want to believe him.’
Freya frowned. Pieter. She should have known.
‘You’d just better not hurt him,’ Joy warned, taking her by surprise. She put her hands over Freya’s quickly. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re friends, and you’re a good woman, the kind of woman he needs, maybe...’
Joy released her and sighed, as if coming to terms with the fact that her crush on Lucas would always be one-sided. ‘What do I know? Maybe all he wants is a fling this time. God knows, he went through enough with his last serious relationship.’
A wheelchair ploughed through the double doors, breaking them apart. The word ‘fling’ coming from Joy’s mouth was tugging at her heart suddenly. It was just a word, one that had carried no real weight up till now—she’d even said it herself. It saved her from having to face what she feared this thing between her and Lucas might turn into: something much deeper, something that would seriously hurt her if she lost it. But now it sounded even more shallow, considering everything else she and Lucas had shared.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘YOUR PARENTS LIVE in a windmill?’ Freya’s face was a picture as Lucas steered the car into the sweeping gravel driveway in Abcoude, about a fifteen-minute drive from busy Amsterdam. He hadn’t told her ahead of time about the unconventional family home. He’d guessed it would be a nice surprise for someone who hadn’t been in the Netherlands for as long as Freya hadn’t.
‘It was fully active in the eighteen-hundreds. They bought it after they got married and had it converted so, yeah, this is where we grew up.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Freya gushed as he let her out the
passenger side. Shadow squeezed through to the front seat and leapt out after her before he’d even had the chance to open the back door.
‘Everything you see is their property,’ he told her, as the dog bounded straight for the fence that had been keeping the neighbouring sheep out of the front garden for over thirty years.
The summer evening sun cast a warm light on the windmill’s white painted brickwork. It was all so familiar, but a sense of dread lingered low in his belly. Everything was not the same. His father was deteriorating, devoid of the freedom his car used to offer him. His memories were fading, twisting, colliding. No matter how cheerful his mother was trying to be. Tonight would be tough.
He put a hand on Freya’s lower back to guide her in her heels.
‘Welcome, welcome, good to see you again!’ Mira greeted Freya like a long-lost daughter. He realised it had been a pretty long time since he’d brought a woman home.
‘Mother, the cake smells incredible,’ he enthused, pushing the thought from his head as he circled an arm around Mira’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
‘It’s vegan,’ she said proudly.
He nodded at the eggshells on the counter. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, I didn’t use the yolks, just the whites,’ she explained. Freya hid a smile, and he rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head. Freya was dressed in a mid-calf-length dark green dress that hugged her waist with a wraparound tie, and tan-coloured shoes with a wedge heel. She looked hot as hell in heels. He would have to keep his hands off her tonight, though, with his family around.
He listened to her chatting with Mira about her casserole and fake vegan cake recipe, allowing the comfort of his old home to soothe his tired brain a moment. Freya was quite a lot shorter than his mother, but he liked her height compared to his family’s. He liked how small she felt in his arms, how she seemed to need him at times, when she was so damn independent to the rest of the world. He liked her altogether too much, considering she was already planning her escape.
