The Midwife And The Single Dad

by Gill Sanderson

  Perhaps he noticed her surprise. ‘We are to be colleagues and we’ve got to work together,’ he said gently. ‘But we’re also old friends and so we’re entitled to kiss each other when we meet.’

  ‘Old friends,’ she agreed. ‘And it’s good to be back, Ben.’ She knew her voice was hoarse but there was nothing she could do about it. And, in an action that surprised her as much as him, she leaned forward and kissed him in turn. Quickly, of course. But on the lips. And the two of them looked at each other in surprise again.

  Alice tried not to show it but felt a definite sense of relief. She and Ben were going to get on. She had wondered how she would cope if for some reason Ben blamed her for them having to part all those years ago. But it hadn’t been her fault, not really. Or had it? She just didn’t know.

  Time to move. He grabbed her bag, lifted it easily. Ben Cavendish was not a man to trundle a wheelie bag. ‘You’re a few days early,’ he told her. ‘The trust told me that you were coming to settle in before starting work but I’m afraid we’re not quite ready for you yet. Your clinic is more or less done and most of the supplies have been shipped in. But the builders have to put the finishing touches to your flat. There’s some decorating to do and, more to the point, some plumbing to fix.’

  He was leading her down the companionway, swinging her case as if it were a toy. ‘Now, that’s my vehicle.’ He pointed to a decidedly battered-looking Land Rover. He led her to it, then stopped and looked cautiously at her.

  ‘So there’ll be nowhere for you to sleep for a while. We could find a bed-and-breakfast place for you or a room in a hotel, but I wondered…’ He hesitated then quickly said, ‘I wondered if you’d like to stay with me, just for a few days until the work is finished.’

  The idea shocked her, she felt her heart begin to beat faster. Stay with Ben? She had not expected this. It would be…

  Her doubts must have shown on her face, because he rushed on, ‘Sorry, it’s a silly idea, there’ll be no difficulty in finding you a place and—’

  ‘Wouldn’t your wife mind me staying?’ Alice had to ask.

  His reply was clipped, remote. ‘I have no wife. I’m afraid we’ve parted. She’s been gone for quite a while and the divorce is now through.’

  It took Alice a moment to get over the shock. Then she gazed at Ben’s face but she couldn’t read him any more, his face seemed expressionless. Was there sadness when he talked about his long-gone wife? Did he miss her, still love her? Alice just could not tell. So she contented herself by asking, ‘So you live as a bachelor?’

  A more cheerful reply. ‘No. I have a housekeeper, Mrs McCann. She lives in and she’s marvellous.’

  Ben, divorced? It was all too much for Alice to take in. She knew she had to be careful here but she did so want to know more. ‘It must be hard, getting divorced,’ she ventured. ‘Pretty painful.’

  His reply was curt. Obviously he didn’t want to talk about it. ‘It was painful. And ultimately unnecessary. Perhaps if things had been different, if I’d have been a different kind of man…’

  Unnecessary? Did that mean that he still had feelings for his ex-wife? And why should he want to be a different kind of man? But by the bleak look in Ben’s eyes Alice guessed that further questions would be resented. In time she was determined to know more, but for the moment something more pleasant. She thought she had recognised the name of the housekeeper. ‘Mrs McCann?

  Mother of Elsie McCann who we were at school with? She used to run the post office?’

  ‘That’s the one. Being my housekeeper is only a temporary thing, she’s got bad arthritis and she’ll move in with her daughter in a few months. I’ll have to find someone else then. She’ll be hard to replace but people will rally round.’

  Alice remembered this. On the island people did rally round. This was not like the isolation of London.

  She realised she had not answered his question. Well, she hadn’t been expecting it. It was all a bit bewildering, perhaps she ought to think about it first. Was it really a good idea and what if…? But even as she wondered she found herself saying, ‘If you’re sure I’ll be no bother, then I’d really like to stay with you. But only for a while. I don’t want to be any trouble.’

  Then she felt a slight sense of shock. She hadn’t intended to agree so quickly, she had intended to consider the idea first. But the words had just seemed to come out of their own accord. She felt apprehensive—but apprehensive about what? Perhaps she was still a bit tired.

  ‘So it’s settled, then,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Good. Climb in.’

  He threw her bag into the back seat and she found herself next to him as they drove off. She liked sitting high above the other vehicles.

  She just had to say it. ‘This is a bit different from the bicycles we used to ride together.’

  ‘Very different. But the Land Rover is very efficient.’

  She got the impression that for the moment he didn’t want to remember their youth together and he was silent as they negotiated the busy streets around the harbour. So she looked round. Changes in the past fifteen years? There had been quite a few. The shops seemed busier, there was now a supermarket. Some of the older, almost derelict buildings had been renovated. And there were more people on the streets.

  ‘Things have changed,’ she said to him. ‘And there seem to be more younger people around.’

  He nodded. ‘The economy is taking off. Partly European money. The place is coming to life again, more babies are being born here and more young people are staying. Which is why we need this new clinic you’re going to set up. We hope not to have to send for the helicopter so often, we want to be able to deal with our own medical emergencies.’

  ‘Right. Sounds good.’ Then she was silent again and soon they were out of town. The place had grown—but not too much. It was still only a small town. Memories came crowding back, she realised how much she had missed being here.

  ‘So you have Mrs McCann as a housekeeper? Do you really need someone to look after you? I would have thought you quite capable of looking after yourself.’ Alice had thought about this, felt herself quite surprised.

  His answer was grim. ‘I could lead the bachelor life. In some ways I would much prefer it. But I need someone to look after Fiona in the days and at nights when I’m called out.’

  ‘Fiona?’

  ‘Fiona, my daughter. She’s nearly five.’

  ‘You have a daughter?’

  ‘I do, and she’s the centre of my life. I love her.’

  Alice had never expected this, this was the greatest shock so far. She had coped—or had expected to cope—with Ben having a wife. Though there had been a slight feeling of disappointment. But a daughter? Well, if a wife, why not a daughter? It seemed eminently understandable. But Alice just hadn’t thought about it.

  Ben had a child. She did not, though once she had expected one. The thought hurt.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHE had noticed the alteration in his voice when he’d spoken of Fiona. There was tenderness, obvious love. He had never spoken to her like that, even when they had been close as teenagers. But Alice grudgingly had to admit that they had been much younger then. Their capacity for emotions might not have been limited but their ability to express them certainly had been.

  ‘It’ll be nice to meet your daughter,’ she said, hoping that her voice didn’t betray exactly what she was feeling. Not that she was quite sure herself what she felt. Surely not jealousy? She decided to change the subject. ‘Where are we going? You don’t live in your parents’ old house, do you?’

  He shook his head. ‘I wanted to get a bit out of town but be handy. So I bought a place and spent far too much money on having it renovated. But now I love it. Wait and see, I think you’ll love it too.’

  As he spoke they turned off the main road—not that it was a main road by London standards—and onto something much more narrow. There was only space for one vehicle, with the occasional passing place. She remembered the road
—and then she guessed where they were going. ‘Ben! We’re going to Taighean dhe Gaoithe!’

  ‘We are. It’s my home now.’

  Taighean dhe Gaoithe was Gaelic for Face of the Storm. It was an apt name. Two minutes later she saw it. There was a dip in the cliffs and there, facing the beach, was the house. She knew that it had been built in Victorian times as a hunting lodge. It was in weathered grey stone, it looked tough but beautiful. She realised what a wonderful position it was in—it was private but only twenty minutes’ drive from town. And the view!

  ‘We used to come here when no one was in and wonder what it was like inside.’

  His reply was curt again. ‘We did. I remember well.’

  He didn’t seem very keen to remember their old times together. But for the moment Alice didn’t care. ‘It seems odd, driving along here with you,’ she said. ‘It’s odd because it seems so familiar. As if the past fifteen years had just slipped away. When we parted we thought that it would only be a matter of weeks before we met again. And yet… I’m sorry we lost touch, Ben. And we had such plans. It was my fault.’

  He shrugged. ‘Fault doesn’t come into it. We were young, we didn’t know what we wanted, didn’t know what life was like. Then we learned.’

  ‘We certainly did.’ It sounded as if Ben had had as hard a time as she had. Such a pity! She decided to remain silent for a while, take in the view.

  Eventually the car pulled up at the front of the house. The great oak front door opened and a little girl ran out.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ Ben jumped out of the Land Rover, ran to meet his daughter. He picked her up, swung her round until she laughed with joy. She was dressed in red shorts and a T-shirt with a giraffe pictured on it. She had the same thick dark hair as her father and, best of all, she had her father’s grey eyes. Too early to tell—she still had the chubbiness of childhood—but Alice thought she was going to be a beauty. A beauty like her mother? Alice thought, and was surprised at the irritation this idea caused her.

  Now Ben put his daughter down, held her hand and led her towards the vehicle. Feeling unsure, Alice stepped out of the car and waited. Why was she nervous about meeting a child? She had met many after all. When the two got closer she bent down and smiled.

  ‘Fiona, this is an old friend of mine,’ Ben said. ‘I’d like you to call her Auntie Alice.’

  ‘Hello, Auntie Alice,’ Fiona said doubtfully, after a pause.

  ‘Hello, Fiona. Aren’t you a lovely little girl.’ On impulse Alice leaned forward and kissed Fiona on the cheek. Then she frowned. Even in this summer weather, the cheek felt warm. Too warm? But, then, Fiona had obviously been running about.

  ‘And this is Mrs McCann,’ Ben went on. ‘I’m sure you remember her.’

  Alice stood, took the older woman’s outstretched hand. ‘I do indeed. Mrs McCann, it’s Alice Muir. I’m sure you remember all those heavy medical books you used to get for me from the mainland.’

  ‘Yes, I remember them. And I’m pleased to see you’ve made good use of them. Alice, it’s good to see you back home after all these years.’

  ‘How’s Fiona been all day, Mrs McCann?’ Ben asked.

  Mrs McCann frowned. ‘The better for seeing you. But she’s been a bit out of sorts. And it’s got worse as the day’s gone on. Quiet, you know. And she’s not eaten much at all. Not like her.’

  Ben picked up his daughter and she nuzzled into his neck. Alice leaned forward, put her hand on her forehead. She looked at Ben, raised her eyebrows. ‘A bit feverish?’ she asked. ‘Is there anything going round?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘It’s summertime. There’s lots of visitors, trippers, they bring business to the island but they also bring their germs with them. We often have an increase in minor illnesses among the locals. You’re a children’s nurse, what do you think I should do?’

  She was pleased he had asked her opinion. ‘Get her to take things easy, no excitement or undue running about. Plenty of fluids, plenty of rest, don’t worry too much if her appetite goes. At night, perhaps children’s paracetamol to calm her fever. If it only started this morning, don’t be surprised if things get a bit worse.’

  ‘Just what I would have said.’ Ben grinned. ‘Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll get your case.’

  ‘You carry Fiona and I’ll get the case. She doesn’t want you to put her down.’

  Fiona obviously agreed. ‘Want to be carried,’ she said, wrapping her arms firmly round her father’s neck. Their love for each other was so obvious that Alice felt a slight touch of envy. Nobody loved her like that.

  * * *

  Alice loved the inside of the house. Years before, when they had been certain the house had been uninhabited, she and Ben had crept up to the windows, tried to peer through the gaps in the drawn curtains. All they had been able to manage had been glimpses of ornate woodwork, fancy plastered ceilings. Now she could see it in all its splendour. The woodwork, the plasterwork were still there. But the rest of the décor was in light pastel shades and the furniture was modern. It made a wonderful contrast.

  Alice had obviously been expected as there was a bedroom with its own en suite waiting for her. ‘I gather that you’ve been travelling more than a bit today,’ Mrs McCann said. ‘If you’d like to freshen up there’s towels there ready. If you want to come downstairs in half an hour or so, we can all have a cup of tea with Fiona before Dr Cavendish puts her to bed.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Alice said. ‘And, yes, I am feeling a bit travel worn.’

  She had a quick shower and noted approvingly that the Victorian plumbing had been replaced by something modern. There was even a hairdryer—now, that was thoughtful. Though she had packed one of her own. Now, what to wear? She had travelled in jeans and a light jacket, trainers on her feet, an outfit more practical than elegant. Perhaps it was time for a change. She found a pretty floral summer dress, treated herself to a touch of make-up. She wasn’t really sure why. She just felt like being…not attractive but smart.

  The four of them sat round a large table in the kitchen. There was tea and buttered scones for the three adults, a small meal for Fiona. And Fiona had got worse in the past half-hour. She would hardly eat, she was argumentative, tearful. She didn’t know whether she wanted to sit on her father’s lap or in her chair. She had to be moved from one to the other.

  ‘She’s not usually like this,’ Ben whispered. ‘She can be a sweet child.’

  Alice smiled. ‘I’m a children’s nurse. I know what to expect. May I hold her for a while?’

  So Fiona was transferred to Alice’s lap and was promptly sick all over Alice’s new dress.

  Ben and Mrs McCann looked on in horror. ‘Fiona, are you all right?’ Ben asked anxiously, and held out his arms for his child.

  Alice shook her head warningly. ‘Leave her with me,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing serious about this. I should have known better, should have expected this. Now, if there’s an apron I can borrow, I’ll take her to the bathroom.’

  The phone rang in the hall. ‘It’s Wednesday evening,’ Ben said gloomily. ‘It’s supposed to be my evening off.’ He went to answer it.

  Mrs McCann was sponging down Alice’s dress. ‘If you’re all right holding her for a while, I’ll go and fetch the wee one’s pyjamas,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll see to that dress.’

  ‘Let me take her to the bathroom and undress her,’ Alice said. ‘Where is it?’

  Mrs McCann led her down the corridor.

  Being sick had quietened Fiona. She slumped peacefully on Alice’s shoulder and Alice overheard Ben’s conversation. ‘Another fit, you say? Fell and cut his head…? Stopped the bleeding? Yes, I’ll come out and have a look. But don’t worry too much, Mrs Melling. I’m sure things will be fine…’

  A moment later he came into the bathroom, just as Alice turned on the taps. ‘Alice, how do you think Fiona is?’ he whispered.

  Alice poured water over the little girl’s head. ‘I suspect it’s just a minor upset. It’l
l be over very quickly. You’re a doctor, you should know that.’

  ‘I do know it. But if you had a child of your own, you’d know how hard it is to be the detached medical observer.’

  ‘I guess so,’ she said. She didn’t have a child of her own. He wasn’t to know just how much this remark hurt her.

  ‘This is not the way I wanted to greet you,’ he went on, ‘but I have to go. One of my patients is an epileptic—he’s hurt his head and his mother worries overmuch. I’ll have to go and see. It’s a pity really. I’ll have to ask Mrs McCann to babysit. Usually on Wednesday she goes into town to see her family, but she knows there are these emergencies and…’

  Alice checked the temperature of the water in the bath, ran in a little more hot. ‘I’ll babysit,’ she offered. ‘I think Fiona and I can be friends now and I am a nurse. So I’ll finish bathing her, put her to bed and read her a story. You and Mrs McCann can both go out.’

  ‘I can’t ask you to do that! You are a guest here.’

  ‘You’re not asking. I’m volunteering. Now, just sit here and splash water over your daughter while I go and change out of this dress.’

  ‘But, Alice—’

  ‘Ben! You know very well that for all concerned it’s the obvious thing to do.’

  He looked at her a moment. ‘You always were decisive, weren’t you? You made up your mind what had to be done and then you did it, even though it hurt.’

  She wondered what he was referring to. Their parting perhaps? But now wasn’t the time to go over old times. She just said, ‘I’ll be right back down.’

  It didn’t take long to organise things with him and Mrs McCann. Ben went out first then Mrs McCann showed Alice all that she needed to know. The housekeeper was quietly but obviously pleased that she could go out—even though she was more than willing to stay if she was needed.