A Single Dad to Heal Her Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  He smiled wryly. ‘And then suddenly I had time to stop and look out of the window and, yes, it’s amazing. There’s a balcony outside my bedroom and I sit there often, just staring out over the sea, listening to the gulls and the waves breaking on the shore and watching the world go by.’

  ‘I could do a lot of that,’ she said wistfully. ‘I love the sound of the sea. I’m not sure I’d swap it for my oasis, though.’

  ‘I wouldn’t, I love your garden. Mine’ll get there one day, I suppose, when everything’s grown a bit, but in the meantime I do have a great view so I’m not exactly deprived. And of course ultimately I’ll end up with both. So—scrambled, I take it?’

  ‘Of course.’ She dragged her eyes off the view and turned to face him with a smile. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  * * *

  He opened the folding doors across the front of the kitchen and they ate their club sandwiches perched at the breakfast bar.

  She licked her fingers, pushed the plate away and sighed contentedly. ‘That was amazing. I haven’t had a club sandwich that good for ages.’

  ‘Is that because it’s on your anti-cancer hit list?’ he asked, and she laughed and shook her head.

  ‘No, not really. It’s not great, and I wouldn’t do it every day, but in the grand scheme of things it’s not bad. Top of my hit list is sugar because cancer loves it apparently, followed by anything fed with hormones or too much Omega 6, plus high glycaemic index foods like white rice and flour and stuff like that, so no dairy, no cakes, no puddings, nothing with added sugar, although I do eat a lot of fruit. Oh, and loads of fresh veg and extra virgin olive oil and lots and lots of fish, and organic produce as a rule when I can, and I don’t drink alcohol any more. And I make sure I exercise and get lots of fresh air.’

  ‘Sounds pretty healthy.’

  ‘It is. I do draw the line at revolting super-green smoothies, though,’ she added with a wry grin, and he chuckled.

  ‘I can’t imagine why. Ugh.’

  ‘Ugh is an understatement. Have you ever had one? They taste like grass mowings.’ She put her mug down and swivelled round to face him. ‘Can I be cheeky and ask for a guided tour?’

  He shrugged and slid off his stool.

  ‘Sure. It’s not that exciting.’

  Well, it might not be to him, but a sea view like that was her idea of heaven and she was aching to see what he’d done with the rest of the house.

  He walked her through the downstairs first—a utility room, cloakroom, another sitting room that opened to the garden, with lots of toy storage and comfy sofas, the walls smothered in children’s paintings lovingly pinned up, all named and dated, and then on the opposite wall were framed black-and-white photos of the children, which gave her a pang of longing that she quickly suppressed.

  The children weren’t part of this, they weren’t relevant, only insofar as they governed what time she and Matt could spend together, so she hauled her eyes off them and followed him out of the room.

  He took her upstairs next and then, as if to turn the screw, he showed her the children’s rooms—a delicate blue, surprisingly, for Amber, and white with a mural of trains stuck on it for Charlie—then the guest room, which his mother used when he was on call, he said, and the family bathroom, obviously tastefully refitted, although the effect was trashed by the addition of about a million bath toys.

  She could hear the squeals of laughter, the splashing, the giggles, and the ache in her chest just grew worse.

  They’re nothing to do with you.

  Then finally he led her into his bedroom, and she heaved a silent sigh of relief because this was undoubtedly an adult room.

  It was the largest, as she might have expected, with a huge and incredibly inviting bed opposite a wall of glass giving a stunning view of the sea and sky, and it took her breath away.

  What would it be like to lie there with him, to make love in that huge bed with the sound of the sea drifting in through the open doors? To sit on the balcony and listen to the keening of the gulls, and then go back to bed and make love again...

  ‘That’s amazing,’ she breathed. ‘What an incredible room. You must get fabulous sunrises.’

  ‘I do, but I see them rather too often at the moment, considering it rises at four thirty at this time of year,’ he said drily.

  ‘That’s horribly early! Why are you awake then?’

  He gave a wry chuckle.

  ‘I’m not. It’s Charlie. Sometimes he wakes up needing to wee and won’t settle again unless he’s with me, but just lately I’ve been getting the bed to myself most nights, which is a real luxury. I still wake up, though. Habit.’

  She laughed, as she was meant to, but her mind was torn between the yearning to hold a little wakeful boy and cradle him back to sleep, and wondering what it would be like to wake up to the sunrise with Matt and make love with the first rays of light gilding their bodies...

  And then she glanced across the room at the chest of drawers on the far side, and stopped.

  Stopped thinking about the children, stopped fantasising about spending one of those uninterrupted nights with him in that huge and inviting bed, stopped wondering if he’d bought condoms, stopped thinking about his body underneath those shorts.

  Stopped thinking altogether, because there on the chest of drawers in a simple white frame was a black-and-white photo of a woman holding a sleeping baby in her arms, and tucked in beside her was a little girl with Matt’s eyes and her long dark hair. Amber, of course. She recognised her from the photos downstairs, but the woman... They were both smiling, and Livvy felt as if a giant hand had squeezed her heart.

  ‘That’s Juliet with the children,’ he said softly, his voice tender. ‘It was taken just after Christmas, five months before she died.’

  She swallowed and turned away, unable to look at it any longer because it felt such an intrusion into his privacy and grief. Before it had just been a bedroom, and Juliet hadn’t had a face, and now it all seemed much more real, the scale of his loss, the agonising grief he must have gone through, still be going through. The children’s grief and loss, the loss of their mother, irreplaceable and so much loved.

  She didn’t belong there...

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘Don’t be. She’s gone, Olivia. I know that. I still love her, I always will, but she’s gone, and I’m getting used to it. It’s just taking me a while.’

  She nodded, swallowing again, blinking away the sudden, stinging tears. ‘Dad phoned this morning and warned me not to get in too deep, said you couldn’t be in a good place right now. He was right, wasn’t he?’

  He gave a soft huff of laughter and turned away from the picture, ushering her out of the door and down the stairs.

  ‘That depends what you call good. I’ve sold our house in London, found a new home, a new job, a new life. I’m moving on, slowly but surely, so I’m in a better place than I was, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t want to go back to those early days.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry, Matt. It must have been awful.’

  ‘It was, but I’m getting there. Come and see the garden.’

  He opened a door at the end of the hall and went out, and she followed him slowly, wondering what she was doing there and how she’d got into this. And—the garden? That was such an abrupt change of subject...

  She stopped. ‘Do you want me to go?’

  ‘Go? No, of course not. Why would I want you to go?’ he asked, but then he turned and looked at her, and with a sigh he pulled her into his arms and hugged her, and she wrapped her arms around him and hung on.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FOR A WHILE he said nothing, then he gave a sigh and lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes troubled.

  ‘It’s not just your father who’s worried about us. I got lectured today as well,’ he said. ‘I met Ed on
my way home this morning while he was walking the dog. He’d been past your house earlier, seen the car there and knew I hadn’t been home, and of course I was in those clothes, so he said he was glad to see I was moving on but then told me rather pointedly that you have a kind heart and I’m not to hurt you by getting in too deep before I’m ready.’

  ‘You won’t hurt me,’ she said, not altogether sure it was true. Well, she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her. Whether the situation would hurt her was another question entirely, and one she’d rather not consider because she didn’t think she’d like the answer. Although if her reaction to the children’s pictures was anything to go by, she had her answer already.

  ‘I hope not. Ed also said he hoped I wasn’t using you and I told him I’m not. If I am it’s entirely unintentional, anyway, and if you feel I am, then for goodness’ sake tell me, because it’s the last thing on earth I want to do.’

  She lifted her hand and cradled his jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble against her palm, the flicker of a muscle in his cheek. ‘You’re not using me, Matt. Not in the least.’

  He turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm, then gave a wry little laugh and moved, putting a little space between them, although he held on to her hand, folding it inside his.

  ‘Good. I really don’t want to, which is why I didn’t buy condoms this morning. I didn’t want to railroad either you or myself into something rash, and now I’m regretting it.’

  She shook her head and gave him a wistful smile. ‘Don’t regret it. Just be sure you’re ready, Matt. There’s no hurry and I don’t want you doing something you’re not ready for, something that will make you feel disloyal to Juliet or that you’re cheating her or that I don’t measure up.’

  He frowned. ‘I wouldn’t feel that, Olivia, and I wouldn’t for a moment compare you to her. We had a good marriage, a brilliant marriage, and I wouldn’t for the world have had it end the way it did, but it has, and she’s gone, but I’m still here and so are the children, and we’re all entitled to a life, even if it’s a very different one from the one we’d thought we’d have. She’d be furious with me if I passed up any chance for happiness, however fleeting, and she’d be the last one to want me to be lonely. She would have hated that for me.’

  Livvy felt her eyes fill. ‘She sounds lovely. You must miss her so much.’

  He smiled sadly. ‘I do. I miss her every day, but life goes on, and I’m still alive, and since I met you I feel I’ve come out of the shadows and into the light again, and d’you know what? It feels good, Livvy. It feels really good, and that’s all down to you.’

  He led her to a faded, weathered bench tucked in a corner between the house and the newly planted shrubs, and patted the seat beside him.

  ‘Come and sit with me. This is a lovely bench, the only thing I have from our London garden, and I don’t spend anything like enough time on it any more, but all I can see from it now is emptiness and a lawn that needs cutting, so I look at the trees next door instead.’ He grinned wryly. ‘You have to tilt your head back a bit, so you can end up with a crick in your neck if you’re not careful.’

  She smiled and sat down beside him—had Juliet sat on this bench with him? Probably—and she looked at the trees for a moment, then her smile faded and she turned to face him, her mind still on Juliet and his tragic loss.

  ‘I don’t want to take you back into the shadows, but can I ask you something?’

  He turned his head and met her eyes. ‘Of course you can. You can ask me anything.’

  ‘What happened that day? How did you know she was ill?’

  He sighed and looked away again, back to the trees that seemed to give him comfort. ‘I didn’t,’ he said quietly. ‘I’d spoken to her the night before and she had a headache. The children had been noisy all day, she said, and her head was banging and as they were asleep she was going to get an early night. It didn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary, because she’d had the odd headache from time to time, as we all do, so I said good idea, went in to dinner, and I rang her in the morning for our usual catch-up and I couldn’t get hold of her.

  ‘It didn’t really worry me, I assumed she was busy with the children and she’d ring me when she could, and I had a breakfast meeting scheduled with your father and a few others so I showered and dressed and went down to the dining room, and then I still hadn’t heard from her, so I rang again, then I rang her mobile, then the house phone again, and Amber answered.’

  ‘Amber?’ she asked, shocked. ‘How old was she?’

  He shrugged. ‘Two and three quarters? Something like that. I could hear Charlie screaming in the background and I thought Jules must be dealing with a stinky nappy or something, so I asked to speak to her and Amber told me Mummy wouldn’t get up and she was talking funny.’

  ‘Oh, Matt,’ she murmured, feeling sick at the thought. ‘So what did you do?’

  He shrugged again. ‘What could I do? I was a hundred miles away and I didn’t know what the hell was going on, I just knew it wasn’t good. I couldn’t even ring the neighbours, I didn’t know their numbers, Jules had all that sort of stuff, so I asked Amber where her mother was and she said she was in bed, and Charlie wanted his bottle and she was hungry, too, so I asked her to take the phone to her mother and hold it by her ear, and Jules made this odd mumbling sort of noise and I knew then that it was really bad. I told her not to worry, that I’d get help and just hang in there, I’d be home as soon as I could.

  ‘Your father was with me by then, and he just took over. He’d heard what I’d said, seen my face, could hear Charlie screaming, and he dialled 999, told them the situation, handed me his phone and told me to direct them to the house, then took my phone off me and talked calmly to Amber while we headed back to our rooms. He packed his things and mine, still talking to Amber while I was on the phone to the police, and then he put me in his car and started driving.’

  ‘So where was your car?’

  ‘At home, because I’d gone by train, but I would have been in no fit state to drive anyway, so he handed me back my phone and drove like the wind while I talked to Amber again, and to the police on his hands-free until they got into the house, then they told me the paramedics were in and they were taking her to hospital, and Amber said a nice lady was there and she was going to get them breakfast, so I told her to be brave and look after Charlie and help the lady to find all their things and I’d see her soon, and then I rang Juliet’s mother and told her to get to the hospital, put the phone down and fell apart, and he just kept driving and talking to me, calming me down, keeping me sane.

  ‘He called your mother and got her to come down on the train from Suffolk, and they looked after the children with the police while I went in to see Jules in ICU. She was in a coma, one pupil fixed and dilated, and as I watched the other one blew and I knew she was gone. I never got to say goodbye, and that still hurts. If I’d known when I spoke to her that it would be the last time—’

  His voice cracked a little, and she reached out a hand and squeezed his wordlessly, because there were no words she could have used. He blinked and looked up, staring up at the trees and probably seeing something else entirely. Then he hauled in a breath and started again.

  ‘They did brain-stem tests but they were all dire, and in the end your father was the one who broached the subject of organ donation. He knew Jules and I were both doctors, and he knew her, knew what she was like, knew she wouldn’t have wanted her body to go to waste, and he was right to raise it with me, because she would have come back to haunt me if I hadn’t done it.’

  He swallowed. ‘I baulked at it at first, and then I thought of the people out there desperate for a transplant, and that maybe it would give them a chance to live a normal life, so I said yes, use everything they could, and I know her heart and lungs went to a teenager with cystic fibrosis, and her kidneys went to two people in their thirties with end-stage renal f
ailure. I don’t know about all the other organs, but I just know that in a way Jules is still out there somewhere, giving other people a chance at what she’d lost. That’s a huge comfort.’

  Livvy felt a tear slide down her cheek and swiped it away. How could he be so strong, so brave? She’d be in bits. He said he had been. Maybe he still was, and maybe her father and Ed were right?

  ‘Anyway,’ he added after a long pause, ‘your parents were wonderful, and without their kindness and support I don’t know how I would have got through that day. They stayed with the children until my mother came, and then I had to tell Amber her mother was never coming home. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life—’

  He broke off again, and she squeezed his hand, unable to speak.

  ‘So, anyway, that’s why I wanted to thank them. For that, and for all the kindness they’d showed us over the years, the welcome they gave Juliet when I was his registrar—all of it. I can’t even begin to explain how much it all meant, how much it still means, and I’ve never really told them.’

  She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, just leant over and hugged him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he wrapped her in his arms and held her for an age. And then finally he lifted his head and sighed.

  ‘Sorry. That was a bit heavy. I didn’t mean to spill my guts like that but you did ask.’

  She nodded, blinking hard. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I should have realised it wasn’t a simple question. I didn’t mean to make you dredge all that back up, I’m really sorry.’

  She felt his shoulders shift in a little shrug. ‘It’s OK. It’s never very far away. So, your turn now, talking of dredging things up. How did you find out you had cancer?’