The Midwife And The Single Dad

by Gill Sanderson

  So in fifteen minutes Alice had the house and Fiona to herself. She didn’t regret offering to babysit, this was how the islanders were. They helped each other. But she wondered later what she would have thought as an eighteen-year-old if she could have seen the future. Yes, she could—she had—imagined the future, sitting reading a bedtime story to Ben’s daughter. But she would have been the mother.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I’M A happy man now,’ Ben said. ‘There’s nothing I need. I love the island, I love my work. And most of all I’ve got my daughter and I love her most and there’s no way I can lose her. My life’s centred on her, like I said, I’m a happy man.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Alice said with feeling. ‘Being happy isn’t easy. But a single man with a child? Does everyone on the island know that you’re divorced?’

  Suddenly his face was grim and Alice wished she hadn’t asked. ‘Everyone does know. But no one really knows why. No reason why they should, it’s my affair. Still, what they don’t know they make up. You know that’s the way people are here, they’re interested. But the other side is that there’s always help if you need it.’

  Alice grinned. ‘Remember the two of us going on a cycle ride down to Brochel Point? It started to rain. We knew it would be over quite soon so we sheltered in that old barn.’

  He sighed. ‘I do remember! It got sunny again after fifteen minutes so we were able to carry on.’

  ‘And both sets of parents knew that we’d been in the barn together before we even got home.’

  He nodded. ‘There’s no keeping a secret here.’

  ‘But it’s nice to know that you belong.’

  Somehow the conversation seemed to have veered from being about Ben’s divorce. There was still a lot more Alice wanted to know about Ben’s wife. And wasn’t she entitled to? After all, so many years ago she had vaguely thought that she would be his wife. Still, that wasn’t something that she could really say.

  It was later in the evening. Ben had come back from seeing his patient, gone in to see his sleeping daughter, stared at her a while and then kissed her. He agreed with Alice that Fiona had some kind of not too serious infection. Then they had eaten in the kitchen, a casserole that Mrs McCann had left in the oven. And now they were sitting relaxed in the living room.

  Alice was sitting with her back to the end of a leather couch, her legs stretched out along it, her shoes on the floor. Ben was sprawled in a matching easy chair, with his feet on a pouffe. In the corner a child alarm recorded the grunts and murmurs from the sleeping Fiona.

  It was nearly dark but the curtains were undrawn. And through the window there was a view of the sun setting crimson into the now grey sea. It was so beautiful, Alice thought. Was there a view in London to compare with this? For the moment she felt happy, at peace with the world.

  Ben walked over to her, filled her glass with more white wine. ‘My marriage was a disaster,’ he said as he moved back to his chair, ‘but you don’t want to hear about that.’

  In fact, Alice very much wanted to hear about it but she thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to say so right now. So she merely said, ‘I’d like to know if you want to tell me some time. But it can’t be too much of a disaster since you’ve got Fiona.’

  Ben smiled. ‘True. I have my daughter, Fiona Alice Cavendish, the best thing in my life.’

  I wonder if he ever thought that I was the best thing in his life, Alice asked herself but obviously she said nothing. Instead, ‘Fiona Alice Cavendish? Why Alice?’

  His voice was calm. ‘I always liked the name.’

  Alice felt miffed. She’d given him the chance of saying something nice about her. Perhaps just something about the memory of happy youthful days with her—and he had ignored it. However…

  Then there was silence, a grim silence, and Alice regretted asking him about the divorce. After a moment she gently said, ‘Ben, I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t remember you as an angry person.’

  He sighed. ‘I don’t want to lumber you with my troubles. But I want to make a point to you. I’m telling you so you won’t expect me to be the old Ben. I’m a different man, Alice. I’m harder, not the adolescent I was fifteen years ago. Perhaps I’ve grown up. I don’t trust people the way I used to. I especially don’t trust women who talk about love.’

  He stood, walked towards her. ‘Your glass is empty. Let me fill it.’

  Alice blinked, she hadn’t even noticed herself drinking.

  The two of them sat quietly for a while. Ben apparently was calming down but Alice found herself getting more angry. This was the man she once had—years ago—hoped to marry. His child should have been hers. She wondered further. Ben seemed to have made as big a mess of his life as she had of hers.

  It was Ben who first voiced what they were both obviously thinking. ‘Who would have thought all that time ago that we would finish up like this?’

  Alice felt the urge to be a little more positive. ‘We’ve both got the careers we wanted. We’re both happy in our work—well, I am and I think you are. You’re obviously very happy with Fiona. But…’ Her voice trailed away.

  He had always listened carefully. ‘But what?’ he asked.

  ‘Just but.’ She didn’t know what to say and he now had that alert look that she remembered so well. What could she say? And then she was saved as the baby alarm sputtered into life. Fiona was crying.

  Ben jumped to his feet. Alice said, ‘Ben, let me go. I can tell that cry, she’s not going to go back to sleep easily. You’ve had a hard day, you look worn out. And I’ve had things easy.’

  ‘But you’re a guest here.’

  ‘Ben! Let’s get one thing straight. We’ve both got specialities and this one is mine. In this I’m more experienced than you, I’ve nursed hundreds of children who are in this state. I’m better at this than you are, Ben, and I expect you to recognise it.’

  He shook his head and smiled. ‘What did I say to you earlier about you used to be decisive? I understated the case. Yes, I am tired. And if you can get my little girl off to sleep, that would be wonderful.’

  Alice nodded and left.

  It wasn’t easy getting Fiona to sleep again. She was hot so Alice sponged her down gently, then put her in fresh pyjamas. Still no sign of sleep—so of all things Alice tried singing to her. She had done this before. Not a good idea if you had more than one child in a ward—but if you were one to one sometimes it worked well. She sang a couple of lullabies that had been sung in the islands for years. And Fiona slept.

  Ben crept quietly into the bedroom when Fiona was nearly asleep. Alice put her finger to her lips, waved at him to be silent and to sit on the single bed in the corner of the room. And soon Fiona was asleep.

  Alice went to sit by Ben. ‘She’s going to have a bad night,’ she said. ‘She’s going to wake often, probably be sick again. She’s going to need attention so I think I ought to sleep the night in this bed to be near her.’

  ‘I can’t ask you to do that!’

  ‘You didn’t ask. I offered. Ben, you know it makes sense. You’ve got to work tomorrow, I don’t. I suspect this fever will be over by then, Fiona will be quiet and sleep most of the day. If I want, I can sleep through the day as well.’

  ‘But I’m her father! You’re a guest.’

  ‘You’ve said that already. Looking after Fiona will make me feel that I’m earning my keep. Besides, I want to look after her.’

  Ben looked at her speculatively for a moment. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll accept your offer.’

  He went over and looked down at his sleeping child. Alice wondered at his expression and then she remembered. Once he’d looked at her the same way.

  Not exactly the same, but similar. And always when he’d thought she wasn’t looking at him. As if everything he could want in life was there. Alice shrugged, angrily. She must be tired too, having foolish thoughts like these!

  They decided that Fiona could be left alone a little longer and wen
t down to the now dark living room. For some reason they didn’t turn on the lights, but sat there with only the light of the moon reflected off the sea. Alice was pleased that all she could see of Ben was the vague shadow of his body. She didn’t want to have to look at his face, she thought she could read too much in it. And who knew if she was reading right?

  Ben seemed to sense her mood, to realise that knowing he had been married and was now divorced had disturbed her. After a while he said, ‘I’ve no right to feel disappointed with my life. I’ve made a bit of a mess of things—but I’ve got my work and I’ve got Fiona. That’s more than a lot of people have. Perhaps I should be grateful.’

  Alice liked him for what he had just said, but she felt a bit left out of things. So the only reply she could make was, ‘Perhaps you should.’

  Ben seemed to hear the implicit criticism in her voice. He asked, ‘Who or what have you got that is important, Alice? What is dearest to you?’

  ‘I’ve got this job that I’m very much looking forward to. In a year’s time I’ve been promised a job in London. I’ve got my career and that is enough.’

  ‘But you have nobody special?’

  ‘You mean have I got a man in tow? No, I have nobody. Like you’ve I’ve tried it and it didn’t work. So being without is the way I like it, being alone saves trouble and energy.’

  ‘That seems a bit extreme. How did you—?’

  Alice sighed quietly to herself. She was tired, she didn’t want this conversation. The last thing she needed was to share her feelings with a man who had just told her that he didn’t trust people the way he used to. Why had he picked that word ‘trust’? It meant so much to her.

  She was saved by Fiona again. There was another wail from the baby alarm. She said, ‘Why don’t you go up to her bedroom and stroke her head for a while? I’ll go to my room, get ready for bed and come there in twenty minutes. I noticed that the bed was made up so I can get straight in.’

  ‘Right,’ he said.

  Alice went to her room, had the swiftest of showers. Now, what to wear? She only had a small selection of clothes with her, all she had to sleep in was a long T-shirt with the words ‘Cuddle me, I’ve had a hard day’ printed on the front. It would have to do. She put it on, wrapped her dressing-gown around her. Not the woollen one she would wear in winter but a light silk gown. She had been expecting to sleep in her own bedroom or a hotel. This gown clung to her, she felt just a touch exposed as she walked down the corridor.

  Ben had got Fiona nearly to sleep. He looked at Alice, she thought she saw a flash of something in those wonderful grey eyes—but it was dark in the room. Perhaps she had been mistaken.

  He said, ‘My room is right next door. If there’s any problem—’

  ‘Ben, I’ve told you I’m fine. Now, switch off the baby alarm and go to sleep.’

  One long last look at her and he was gone.

  Alice went over to look at the sleeping Fiona and shook her head. This is not the way I had anticipated looking after Ben Cavendish’s child, she thought. Then she went and slid into her bed.

  There was one last thought. Why had Ben been so keen to offer her an explanation of his past? To tell her that he wasn’t the old Ben, but a much harder version who would never trust a woman again? Was he trying to warn her against something? Or perhaps trying to strengthen his own resolve? Perhaps there were memories of feelings for her that he wanted to repress before they came back. Now, that was an interesting thought.

  And what about her feelings for him? Well, there were feelings—but she didn’t want to think about them too closely. He was still a very attractive man.

  Time she went to sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE was woken up three times in the night but she had learned the nurse’s trick of going straight back to sleep when it was needed. Fiona was at her worst at three in the morning—but after the last ten minutes of crying, it was obvious to the trained eye and ear that she was improving.

  She was a little put out however when she had to be gently woken by Mrs McCann—cup of tea in hand. ‘How’s the bairn?’ she whispered.

  Alice blinked weary eyes, swung her legs out of bed and reached for her dressing-gown. She padded over, felt Fiona’s forehead. ‘Getting better,’ she said. ‘Fever is definitely down. Today she’ll be a lot better. We’ll let her sleep as long as she wants.’

  ‘Dr Cavendish says would you like to go back to your own room and stay in bed a while? I’ll look after Fiona for the rest of the day.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘No. I’m a nurse, I’m used to getting up in the night. I’d best get up now. Besides, I’m here to work, not sleep.’

  Mrs McCann looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I thought you were a guest. But I prefer someone who will work.’

  You’d not find that kind of comment from a housekeeper in London, Alice thought with a secret grin.

  Mrs McCann went on, ‘I’ll serve you breakfast in twenty minutes with the doctor.’ Then she tiptoed over to look at the sleeping Fiona and was gone.

  Alice went back to her own room, quickly showered and dressed. Today a dark linen trouser suit, she wanted to look slightly formal. And as she dressed she thought about the last twenty-four hours. She felt a bit…not uncomfortable but unsure of what she was doing. Whatever she had expected, it had not been this. She had been thrown into Ben’s family life and she wasn’t sure it was good for her. Of course, it was good to see something of Ben, and she really liked Fiona. But she needed to take charge of her own life again.

  She went back to have a quick look at the still sleeping Fiona, and while she was rearranging the bedclothes there was the gentlest of taps on the door. It was Ben, dressed in dark trousers, white shirt but with no tie.

  Alice felt a sudden tightness in her chest. There was the shock of recognition, a brief remembrance of feelings now fifteen years old. There was also the recognition that Ben was now different—but still a very attractive man. She thought she would have to be careful. She had just got over being betrayed by a very attractive man. Got over?

  She sniffed. Stupid thoughts so early in the morning!

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right, getting up?’ Ben asked after he too had been to peer at his daughter. ‘Mrs McCann said you were determined to.’

  ‘I am. I’m fine. And Fiona seems a bit better to me. She’ll be all right in Mrs McCann’s care today.’

  With the most tender of fingers Ben stroked a curl from Fiona’s forehead. ‘Did you have a disturbed night?’

  Good, they were playing doctor and nurse, not Ben and Alice. Right now this was the way she wanted it. ‘Not too bad. She woke up three times. I got her back to sleep quite quickly each time.’

  ‘Quite quickly?’ he asked with a small smile, and she realised that he didn’t quite believe her.

  ‘Nothing I couldn’t cope with. I feel fine now.’

  There was silence for a moment as he studied her and then he said, ‘Breakfast is ready when you are. Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to take it easy?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t come here to take things easy. I came here to work. Are you going to the surgery this morning?’

  He nodded. ‘Just as usual.’

  ‘Could you take me into town? Drop me off at the clinic where I’m supposed to work? I know I’m early but I’d like to look around.’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea,’ he said.

  It was what she wanted. Or what she needed, which was different. She felt that her life since her return had been too wrapped up in Ben and his family. It had happened by accident. But now she needed distance, needed time to remember who she was.

  Yesterday, on the drive out of town, she had been too shocked at meeting Ben to pay too much attention to her surroundings. Now, as they drove back, there was time to look around. First, a careful study of the hills that backed the town. All the locals did this first thing in the morning as the hills tended to reflect what the weather was going to be. And today
the weather was going to be fine.

  Once again, memories came crowding back, she couldn’t help herself. She had to talk to him, to share. ‘Look, that’s where I had a puncture in my bike tyre. On our first trip out to see the house. We hadn’t known each other very long—well, not that well. You showed me how to mend the puncture, putting the inner tube in that stream so the bubbles would show where the hole was.’

  She was silent a while and then said, ‘You never see people mending punctures in London. Well, not by the roadside. I suppose they must have them.’

  ‘I suppose so. I think I remember the puncture,’ he said shortly.

  But now she remembered more than the flat tyre. ‘It was warm. When it was mended we sat in the sun for a while.’

  Then she decided not to say any more. They had done a little more than just sit in the sun. He had kissed her once or twice already. But then he had…and with her definite compliance… It had been only a childish fumble but it had been exciting and frightening and so good. A different age! In London she had dealt with girls of that age who were now having their second child.

  Glancing sideways at him, she saw the set face. Obviously he remembered too. But he wasn’t going to remember it with the same joy as she did. Why not? After a while he said, ‘They were good times, but we were young then. We have more sense now.’

  ‘It would be nice to think so,’ she said.

  Then there was silence as they drove the rest of the way into town.

  On the outskirts of town they passed a large old house that had been home to Ben and his father. A surgery had been built onto the side of it. But now the house had been extended even further, the garden had been converted into a car park and there was a sign that said ‘Mountain View Hotel’.

  ‘Your old house is a hotel?’ Alice queried.

  Ben laughed. ‘We have to move with the times. You’ll find the new surgery much more convenient.’ And, ten minutes later, she did.

  They drove into the forecourt of a set of buildings that were obviously new, but faced with the local grey stone. Alice looked on approvingly. ‘Welcome to Soalay Medical Centre,’ Ben said. ‘That entrance is to my little kingdom—the surgery. Over there is your entrance and your part. There’s the clinic, and next to it your new birthing unit, with your flat built over the top. So we’re together but separate. We even have separate receptionists—though you will share yours with the district nurse.’