Doctor and Son

by Maggie Kingsley

  ‘I don’t think one late night will do him any harm.’

  ‘I guess not.’

  She took a gulp of her coffee, and then another. ‘Do you—?’

  ‘Have you—?’

  They’d spoken together, and he smiled. ‘You first.’

  ‘I was only—I was just going to say I hope the visiting consultant doesn’t give you too much hassle.’

  ‘I expect I’ll survive.’

  Which pretty well ended that as a topic of conversation, she thought, and it wasn’t a topic of conversation for a night like this anyway. It was stupid, and irrelevant, and boring.

  Say something clever and witty, Annie, she urged herself. If she didn’t, he was going to think she was about as interesting as yesterday’s news, but the trouble was she was, so nervous. Nervous of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, looking like an idiot.

  ‘What…what were you going to say before I interrupted you?’ she asked in desperation.

  ‘I was just thinking about your brother. He seems very good at organising other people, and yet…’

  ‘He’s thirty-two, flits from girlfriend to girlfriend and is currently unattached.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what David wants. I don’t think he knows either.’

  ‘Do you?’

  His eyes were fixed on her and her heart seemed to be suddenly jammed in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe, hard to do anything.

  ‘I…Would…would you like another coffee?’ she said. ‘It won’t take me long to boil the kettle again, and—’

  He caught her hand in his before she could move, and laced her fingers in his.

  ‘Annie, irrespective of your brother’s suggestion, nothing is going to happen tonight that you don’t want or feel comfortable with, OK?’

  His voice was deep, velvety in the stillness, and she stared down at their meshed fingers and swallowed, hard.

  ‘I know that, but I…I don’t know what I want. At least I do—sort of—but it’s been four years, and the thought of—’

  ‘Annie, look at me.’

  Slowly she lifted her head. There was understanding in Gideon’s eyes. Understanding and, to her surprise, uncertainty, too.

  He was as nervous and as unsure about this as she was, she suddenly realised, and that gave her the courage to whisper, ‘Hold me, Gideon.’

  He drew her into his arms, held her against him so that she could feel his thundering heartbeat and then kissed her. Gently at first, teasing her lips apart to open for him, and then more thoroughly, and heat began to build in her. A low, throbbing heat that started at the pit of her stomach, then rippled out in wave after wave of aching desire.

  I want him, she thought as she threaded her fingers through his hair, returning his kisses with a depth to match his own. I want him, she realised as his fingers came up and cupped her breast, his palm hot and hard through the fine silk of her dress.

  ‘Oh, Annie, tell me to stop,’ he said hoarsely against her cheek, ‘because if we do this for much longer I’m not going to be able to stop.’

  She didn’t want him to. She felt alive with longing, and wanting, and the last thing she wanted was for him to stop.

  ‘Make love to me, Gideon,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, his voice ragged, uneven. ‘Annie, I want you. I want you so much, but I need you to be sure—for you to have no regrets.’

  Her only regret was that she hadn’t met him sooner, she realised as she led him through to her bedroom and he gently took off her clothes and then his own, but she wouldn’t have had Jamie if she had, and she could never regret him.

  With their clothes gone, there was no time for regrets anyway. No time for anything but the joy and wonder of holding him, of having him hold her. Of the feel of his hard, masculine strength against her as he lowered her to the bed, the touch of his hands and lips, caressing, coaxing, teasing, so that the heat began again, spiralling and spiralling, until she was pleading, ‘Now, Gideon, take me now.’

  And he did, balancing himself on his forearms as he entered her, driving slowly at first, then faster and faster, his breathing harsh and unsteady in her hair as she moved beneath him, arching her hips against him, striving to reach the final culmination, and then suddenly the whole world exploded and she screamed out his name and her entire body convulsed around him.

  A few seconds later he gave a low guttural cry, and his whole body shuddered and jerked against her as he reached his own climax, then he laid his head on the pillow beside her and she held him as he spilled deep within her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked gruffly when he eventually lifted his head, and she nodded back at him wordlessly.

  All right? Wonderful would have been closer to the truth. Wonderful, and fulfilled, and stupidly—ridiculously—close to tears.

  As though sensing it, he rolled over carefully, taking her with him so her head was cradled on his chest.

  ‘All the way over here in the car I kept telling myself, Take it slowly, Gideon, don’t pressurise her,’ he said softly. ‘But then…’

  ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘Gideon…’

  ‘This is just the start, Annie,’ he said, kissing her hair and holding her tight. ‘For you and me, this is just the start.’

  And as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she believed him.

  It was dawn when Annie woke. Four years of motherhood had got her into the habit of waking early, but when she opened her eyes and saw her clothes lying scattered about the bedroom the last thing she felt like was a mother.

  Gideon had gone, of course. Some time during the night he’d woken her and made love to her again, and then he’d told her he would have to leave early for the Belfield. The government bigwig was due that day, and he wouldn’t put it past him to arrive early.

  She sighed and turned over, not wanting to get up but wanting to hold onto the memory of last night for just a little longer, and blinked.

  There was a flower by her pillow. A winter pansy. For a second she wondered where on earth he could possibly have got it until she remembered her landlady had a whole border full, and a laugh escaped her. A laugh that warmed and cheered her as she reluctantly got out of bed to get ready for work. A laugh she was all too aware she was going to need when she reached the hospital, and the inquisition began about her presence at the dance with Gideon.

  But not immediately, she realised when she opened the door to Obs and Gynae and almost fell over a sweeper and two cleaning ladies.

  ‘What the—?’

  ‘I know—I know,’ Liz said, seeing her, ‘but it’s got nothing to do with me. The powers that be upstairs have decided that in honour of our visiting consultant we’ve got to look like one of those glossy adverts for the NHS instead of the grim reality.’

  ‘What’s he like, this consultant?’ Annie asked, carefully sidestepping one of the cleaners.

  ‘No idea. He arrived before I started my shift, and he’s been closeted with Gideon in his consulting room ever since.’

  Damn, and she’d wanted to have a word with him to thank him for the flower, and just simply to see him again.

  ‘And talking about being closeted,’ Liz continued, her eyes gleaming. ‘What’s this with you and Gideon? I want all the gory details of how you got together, when you became an item. I want everything.’

  So did Helen. So did practically every patient on the ward. Quite how they’d all got to know she’d been Gideon’s partner for the St Valentine’s Ball was beyond her, though she could have made a pretty shrewd guess.

  ‘I’m just so very pleased for you and Mr Caldwell.’ Jennifer beamed, clearly already mentally booking the wedding reception and honeymoon. ‘He’s such a lovely man, isn’t he—such a very special man? He deserves to be happy.’

  And Annie muttered something incoherent in reply, and was wondering if her cheeks would ever return to their normal colour again when Kay said the same thing. Mrs Simpson, who had only been in the place five minutes did, t
oo.

  Sylvia was the only patient she managed to have anything like a near normal conversation with, but that gave her no pleasure at all.

  ‘I don’t want to disturb the nurses and doctors in the intensive care baby unit,’ she said when Annie asked her if she’d visited her son that morning. ‘And I’m feeling a bit tired today.’

  ‘I could get one of the porters to wheel you along there,’ Annie suggested. ‘And you most certainly wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. In fact, I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you.’

  ‘Perhaps later,’ Sylvia muttered. ‘After lunch.’

  And perhaps never if nobody forced her, Annie thought with a deep sigh. She’d have to speak to Gideon about the woman, visiting consultant or no visiting consultant.

  ‘Hey, what’s wrong with my favourite junior doctor?’ a deep, velvety voice murmured behind her. ‘She’s looking decidedly down in the mouth, and we certainly can’t have that.’

  She turned to see Gideon smiling down at her, and felt a slow blush of colour covering her cheeks as she realised that every eye on the ward was fixed on them, and every ear was straining to catch their conversation.

  ‘Could I have a word with you in private, please, Mr Caldwell?’ she asked.

  ‘In private?’ he echoed, puzzled.

  ‘I think it might be better, don’t you?’ she said pointedly, shooting a glance sideways towards Kay, who was obviously hanging on their every word, and Liz, who appeared to be taking an inordinate interest in the chart on the end of Mrs Simpson’s bed.

  ‘Ah. Right.’ He nodded. ‘Come with me, Dr Hart.’

  A collective sigh of disappointment went up from the ward as she followed him out into the corridor, and by the time the door was safely closed his cheeks were almost as dark as hers.

  ‘Good grief, has it been like this all morning?’

  ‘Think yourself lucky you’re stuck with the government man,’ she said. ‘I thought my brother was bad enough, but this lot…’

  ‘Are you sorry about last night?’

  His eyes caught and held hers, and she shook her head. ‘Not a bit. Thank goodness they only know we went to the dance together, because if they knew about the rest…’

  He chuckled, glanced over his shoulder, then bent his head and kissed her. A kiss that was all too tantalisingly brief. ‘On account,’ he murmured when she protested.

  ‘Can I see you tonight?’ she asked. ‘I could ask David if he’d mind babysitting again…’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t. In fact, it looks like I’m going to be stuck with our visiting consultant until he leaves.’

  ‘He expects you to work nights?’ she gasped.

  ‘There’s really no other time we can get through all the data he wants to see unless I give up operating and doing any ward rounds during the day, which isn’t a practical option.’ He cupped her chin in his hand and smiled as she gazed at him unhappily. ‘One week. Ten days tops, Annie, and then…’

  ‘I’d far rather have the “and then” now,’ she said wistfully, and he laughed.

  ‘So would I.’

  ‘What’s he like—this slave-driving consultant?’ she asked after he’d kissed her again, this time not nearly so briefly.

  ‘Younger than I’d thought. Tall, blond, handsome. In fact, I guarantee every woman in the hospital will be half in love with him by the beginning of next week.’

  ‘Not this one,’ she replied. ‘This woman prefers the tall, dark, brown-haired type.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said, his lips quirking, then he sighed. ‘I’ve got to go. I only stepped out for a breather from all the facts and figures. Did you really want to talk to me, or were you just wanting an escape, too?’

  She shook her head, and quickly told him about Sylvia.

  ‘OK, I’ll phone the hospital psychiatrist right away, and have him come down. The quicker this is resolved, the better.’

  The quicker the visiting consultant left, the better, Annie thought as she watched Gideon disappear down the corridor.

  Ten days. It sounded like a lifetime, but she could wait. She’d already waited a lifetime for a man like Gideon Caldwell, so she could wait a little longer.

  The rest of the morning sped by in an exhausting round of examinations and note-taking. It wasn’t helped, of course, by the fact that they were now two doctors short on the ward instead of just one, but luckily no major emergency developed so at least she and Liz were able to grab their afternoon coffee-break before they went back into the fray.

  Not that she got much relaxation over her coffee. Not with Liz quizzing her about the whys and wherefores of her turning out to be Gideon’s mysterious partner for the St Valentine’s Ball.

  ‘I just hope it works out for the two of you—I really do,’ the sister declared as she led the way back to the ward. ‘Gideon deserves the best, and so do you.’

  Right now Gideon needed a rest, Annie decided, seeing him at the top of the ward, talking to a tall, blond-haired man. He looked tired, and harassed, and she wasn’t surprised. An entire morning spent discussing facts and figures with some visiting bigwig couldn’t have been much fun. Especially as he hadn’t got much sleep last night, she realised, colouring slightly at the memory, only for every trace of colour in her face to instantly disappear when the blond man suddenly turned round.

  ‘Wowee,’ Liz breathed beside her. ‘Who is that, and can I have him gift-wrapped, please?’

  Annie had thought the same when she’d first met Nick Henderson at the Manchester Infirmary. Had thought him the handsomest man she’d ever seen. He was still handsome, she noticed, his blond hair gleaming under the ward’s fluorescent lights, and she felt physically sick.

  ‘Oh, terrific! Gideon’s going to introduce him,’ Liz exclaimed with delight, her fingers automatically going up to tidy her red curls. ‘Now, hands off, Annie. I saw him first.’

  And she wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there, Annie thought as she saw recognition slowly dawn on Nick’s face as he came down the ward towards her. She wanted to run out the door and never come back. But most of all she wanted to know why he had to come back into her life now, just when she was about to get it together.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Nick said, reaching out to grasp both her hands the minute they’d drawn level. ‘Annie Hart. Good grief, I haven’t seen you in—Good heavens, it must be almost five years.’

  Four years and four months to be exact, she thought. Not that she was counting. Like hell she wasn’t.

  ‘Hello, Mr Henderson,’ she said, extracting her hands deliberately, and Nick smiled. The smile which had once been able to turn her knees to water. They weren’t water now, but they were none too steady either.

  ‘Hello yourself, Annie,’ he said warmly, then turned to Gideon with an even bigger smile. ‘Sorry about this, Mr Caldwell, but Annie and I knew each other years ago at the Manchester Infirmary.’

  ‘I see,’ Gideon murmured.

  ‘Annie Hart.’ Nick shook his head in amazement, as though her appearance was as delightful and as unexpected as an unscheduled visit from Halley’s comet. ‘I still can’t believe it. Here of all places. We must have dinner together one evening. Talk about old times.’

  Like hell they would. ‘How’s your wife?’ she asked, and saw his smile slip momentarily.

  ‘I’m afraid Lucy and I divorced a couple of years ago. These things happen, but at least we parted amicably.’

  And pigs might fly. He’d always said Lucy hadn’t understood him, but it looked like she’d finally wised up.

  ‘Do you still want to take a look at the patient input levels for last year, Mr Henderson?’ Gideon asked. ‘Or would you rather—?’

  ‘Oh, we’d better get to the figures. That’s what I’m here for after all,’ Nick said expansively. ‘But I won’t forget about that dinner date, Annie. You can depend on it.’

  She didn’t give a damn about his dinner date. She didn’t give a damn about him, but what she did care abo
ut—deeply cared about—was the puzzled, questioning look Gideon gave her as he walked away with Nick.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘I WANT a holiday,’ Liz declared when Annie arrived in the staffroom for the start of her morning shift. ‘Better yet, I want a transfer.’

  ‘Things rough again this morning?’ Annie murmured as she hung up her coat.

  ‘If you mean are Helen and Tom still running around like headless chickens, and is Gideon still snapping at everything and anyone that moves, then, yes, things are rough.’

  Five days, Annie thought as she reached for her white coat. Nick had only arrived at the Belfield five days ago, and yet gone was the happy, relaxed atmosphere which had once been so characteristic of the obs and gynae ward, and in its place was discord and unhappiness.

  It had been inevitable, of course. Nobody liked their work examined and criticised, or being forced to endure time-and-motion studies to see if their work could be performed more efficiently, but the problems that Nick’s arrival had caused were much deeper than that, far deeper.

  ‘Are you quite sure you and Gideon haven’t had a row?’ Liz continued, watching Annie as she put her stethoscope in her pocket, checked her notebook, then dragged a brush quickly through her hair. ‘I know this Henderson bloke has been hassling him about the numbers of operations we perform, and patients we see at the clinics and Outpatients, but the way Gideon’s been behaving lately…It’s not like him. It’s not like him at all.’

  It wasn’t, Annie thought irritably, and the trouble was, everyone thought they’d had a row. Even the patients out on the ward.

  ‘Never let the sun go down on your wrath, Dr Hart,’ Mrs Simpson had said pointedly. ‘That’s what my old mum used to say, and she was married sixty years.’

  ‘I’ve always found that the secret to a happy relationship is to apologise, even if you’re not in the wrong,’ Kay had told her, concern plain on her plump face.

  Good grief, even Tom had put in his pennyworth when they’d been operating one morning. ‘Whatever the problem is, Annie, talk about it. More relationships bite the dust through couples not talking to one another than for any other reason.’