Kathy opened the bathrobe and bibs and cosmetics from Jess and Dusty. And then, from Ben, she received baby things. A full layette. Tiny, practical clothes, nappies, baby blankets, everything a baby could need and more.
Kathy gasped and sobbed and promptly had another contraction. This time she held onto Jess as if she was drowning.
A big one.
‘Oh,’ she said as she came out of it. ‘I thought…me and Mike could buy this stuff. But now… Oh, when my baby comes…’
She put the contraction aside and went back to Ben’s package.
Ben had got it right again, Jess thought. Kathy had obviously done no baby planning at all.
Jess should have thought this through. Normally she would have.
Ben had been distracting her.
He still was distracting her. He was sitting on the bottom veranda step, in the sun in his boxers. Looking…stunning. He was opening his gift from Jess and Dusty.
Two books, courtesy of Aunt Rhonda.
Vintage.
Thrilling Adventures for Boys, Volume One.
Thrilling Adventures for Boys, Volume Two.
He checked them out and then looked at Jess with a very strange expression.
‘What?’ she said, feeling suddenly…breathless.
‘You read my Santa list.’
‘I did not.’
‘You’ve been talking to my secretary.’
‘Right,’ she said dryly, and burrowed behind the settee to check on Pokey.
Pokey was looking very intent. Very intent indeed.
Jess went to stroke her and she snapped.
‘She’s allowed to snap,’ Kathy said. ‘If she’s feeling like I’m feeling. Oh, my…’ She gasped. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said as she launched into another contraction. ‘You open your gifts, Jess.’
So Ben helped Kathy hold her gas mask while Jess opened her gifts.
First was a tissue-box cover from Dusty, made in school, carried all the way from London, only a little bit bent.
She knew she’d use it for ever.
There were also soaps from Kathy, with the resort signature cassowary on each tablet.
‘It’s a bit last minute,’ Kathy told her, breathless and apologetic. ‘But I love the bathrobe. You didn’t pinch it, did you?’
‘No! You didn’t pinch the soap?’
They grinned at each other. Friends.
Christmas.
There were crimson parrots in the trees above the veranda, squawking their hearts out. The sea was glittering through the trees.
Jess was sitting by Kathy’s settee, holding her hand when needed. Ben started helping Dusty wheel along the veranda rail. She felt… She felt…
‘There’s an envelope in the bottom of your stocking,’ Ben said, off-handed, and she caught herself and fumbled in the pillow case for the envelope and ripped it open.
And gasped and dropped it.
Ben grinned, made sure Dusty’s hands were steady on the rail, stooped, picked it up and handed it to back to her.
‘It’s actually from Nate,’ he said, still off-handed. ‘Via Uncle Ben.’
She lifted it again and stared. Cautiously.
Two cheques for amounts that made her eyes water.
‘Don’t you dare rip them up,’ Ben said, as she hovered over doing exactly that. ‘As I said, they’re from Nate. His share of my father’s fortune came to me. I haven’t touched it. So I made a few phone calls, enquiries about average amounts a normal dad would be expected to pay for child maintenance in similar circumstances. Then I multiplied it by ten years and that’s the first cheque, personally made out to you. Nate can never repay you in full for giving him a son, but I wish he could. He doesn’t know…he’ll never know what a gift that is. The other cheque is the remains of Nate’s money. That’s to go into trust for Dusty.’
And then he went back to helping Dusty as if the conversation was over. Done with.
Jess stared at the cheques. Thought maybe they could move out of their tiny hospital apartment. Thought she shouldn’t take them. But the way Ben had said it…
She knew that she would.
‘Why are you crying?’ Dusty demanded, looking astounded, and finally she managed a smile.
‘I’m not. I’m just…happy.’
‘That’s ’cos it’s Christmas and you’ve got us,’ he said wisely. ‘And cool presents. Ooh, hooray, here’s breakfast. Doughnuts. Can you fit in a doughnut as well as toast, Kathy?’
‘Yes,’ said Kathy.
Jess looked up to Ben. He was watching her. Just…watching.
She thought of the bleakness of Kathy’s Christmas if she’d been alone. Now, here she was, in full labour but surrounded by Christmas, surrounded by people who cared. By Dusty learning to skateboard. By Pokey having puppies. She thought of the bleakness of their last Christmas, her mother in hospital, knowing the outcome, knowing they’d had to move out of her mother’s little house to pay the bills.
She remembered snow and sleet and being alone.
Ben was watching her. Smiling. Asking a question with his eyes.
And she knew what the question was.
If she could just take that step… Find the courage to answer.
Courage.
It was too soon. Far too soon.
Maybe I’ll put Ben on my Santa list for next year, she thought, feeling panicked. Feeling like she was on an edge and the edge was crumbling. A whimper.
‘I think Pokey’s puppies are coming,’ Dusty said. Unnoticed, he’d dived under the settee to take a look. ‘Oh, yuk…’
‘Oh…’ Kathy moaned, and clutched Jessie’s hand.
The edge receded. Thank heaven for professional need.
Dr Jessica McPherson, in her pink frilly pyjamas on Christmas morning, was suddenly all professional.
Just as well. Anything else left her feeling dizzy.
Pokey’s four puppies were born at twenty-minute intervals with no trouble at all. Pokey allowed Ben to check each little airway. He needed to break one membrane around the nose, but each pup was perfect.
Four puppies, who looked just like their mother. Three boys, one girl, just as predicted. Marge hadn’t known who—or what—the father was but by the look of these, they might almost be pure bred.
‘So you were discriminating in your choice of lover,’ Jess murmured, feeling emotional. She’d been feeling emotional all morning. She was getting more emotional by the minute.
‘She’s a good girl, our Pokey,’ Ben said.
He’d dressed. Jess had also managed to duck away to pull on jeans and T-shirt. She and Ben were more or less taking it in turns to be Kathy’s carer, but there was no need to make it formal. Yes, the animals had to be fed. Dusty needed to be picked up every time he fell over. Pokey needed care.
But it was all happening around Kathy’s bed.
The birth was getting closer. Ben rigged up sheets from the rafters that could be let down and taken up every time there was a need for privacy, but apart from brief examinations Kathy didn’t want privacy. She was as comfortable as they could possibly make her. Her makeshift bed overlooked the rainforest and the sea. She had two obstetricians on hand. The paediatrician back at the resort had been put on standby, but there wasn’t the least hint he might be needed.
She was four centimetres dilated. She was using the gas but she was still in control.
But emotion was starting to cut in, too. ‘I wish Mike…’ she murmured, over and over, and finally, in mid-contraction, her wishes became pleas.
‘Mike…’ It was a yell. And after that, every contraction ended up as a yell to an absent partner.
And then, at two in the afternoon, just after they’d finished a very odd Christmas dinner, eaten on the veranda, with Kathy eating only a little mango and lemonade but wanting to see everything and demanding stuff be kept for after…
Mike came.
Jess thought it was the hotel buggy come to pick up the dishes.
She’d been under the settee when
she heard it arrive, with Pokey, who was now allowing herself to be stroked, who was conceding that she’d like a little Christmas dinner herself.
She emerged and there was a kid standing by the buggy. Kid just turned to man. Long and lanky, weathered, a bit too skinny. Jeans, tough work shirt and work boots. Looking scared.
‘Is this…?’ he started. ‘Kathy…’
‘Mike!’ Maybe it was another contraction. Maybe it was recognition but either way the word came out as a long and desperate scream.
And Mike forgot everything else. He was up on the veranda, gathering his woman into his arms like she was everything that ever mattered in the world and nothing could matter ever again.
The day wore on, with momentum of its own.
They had the screens up now, permanently. Kathy’s contractions were less than a minute apart, and what little attention she had left over was all on Mike. They were cocooned behind the sheets. Mike, amazingly, was coaching her in breathing.
‘I’ve been reading books,’ he admitted, sounding almost shamefaced. ‘And is that the gas mask? Kathy, love, maybe you could…’
Kathy could. With Mike there she seemed ready for anything. Even birth.
‘Call us if she wants to push,’ Ben told them. ‘We’ll check on you every ten minutes.’
Dusty was out on the edge of the clearing, lying flat on his back, gazing with his new field glasses at the parrots up in the trees. He’d be sleepy, Jess thought. She was feeling sleepy herself.
Ben took her hand.
They were looking out over the sea. The sun was warm on their faces.
She should pull away.
She didn’t.
‘Why did you decide to be an obstetrician?’ she asked, trying to make it friendly. Trying to act like the link between them wasn’t something momentous.
‘And not a money-grubbing billionaire like my father? Or playboy like my brother?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘You didn’t.’ There was a moment while she thought he wasn’t going any further, he was simply holding her hand, staring out to sea. But then… ‘It was other people’s families,’ he said at last. ‘I always felt like I was on the outside, looking in. For some reason medicine fascinated me; it was always what I wanted to do. But I remember my first birth. I was a raw intern, working in a public hospital. The obstetric ward was frantic. We had a mum come in at three in the morning. Her husband worked night shift at a metal fabrication company; they’d pulled him off duty. He was filthy. He had no one to care for the rest of the kids so he brought them all in, three littlies under ten, all in cheap pyjamas, half-asleep. Mum didn’t make it to the delivery room—halfway there she delivered on the gurney. I was called out to help. No one else made it. I remember handing the babe to Mum, and then watching them. A family. The reaction to that baby… They had so little and this new little baby was all any of them wanted. I just…wanted more.’
‘Yet you decided…’
‘That I could never take the risk for myself,’ he said. ‘Coward, that’s me. But watching from the outside…’ He glanced back at the veranda where it was obvious another contraction was in full swing. ‘I never cease to love it.’
Her heart was twisting. Every single sense was telling her here was something wonderful. Someone wonderful.
Someone she could hold.
Ben was just holding.
‘So how about you?’ he asked, and she had to force herself to think what he was asking, think what he wanted to know.
Why was she an obstetrician?
‘I wanted to be a vet,’ she said, simply and surely. ‘But I knew because of Mum’s illness I could never leave London. My patients of choice weren’t in London.’
‘Snakes?’
She grinned. ‘And lions,’ she admitted. ‘They were a bit thin on the ground around London, and medical school was closer to home than vet school. Anyway, I got the marks, so I became a doctor. But I was still…drifting. Then Dusty was born. For me it was like life started from that moment. I held him in my arms and I thought birth was the most awesome thing in the world. It still is. Will that do for a reason?’
‘It’ll do for me,’ he said, and the grip on her hand tightened.
She should pull away. She should…
She did nothing of the kind.
‘So,’ she said at last, and she was beginning to really struggle. ‘Mike. Weipa. There’s another explanation I want.’
‘Business-class fares from Weipa,’ he told her. ‘Courtesy of my dad. Good old Dad. When Kathy said there’d be no seats left she didn’t factor in business class. Then a helicopter to the island. There’s nothing you can’t get with money.’
‘I guess…there isn’t.’
‘Except what I most want in the world. You do know that I love you,’ he said, and the world stood still.
‘You can’t,’ she managed. It was really hard to get the words out. ‘You’ve known me for less than a week.’
‘It took less time than that to fall in love.’
‘It’s Dusty, isn’t it?’ she said frantically. ‘You said yourself…you want a family.’
‘Not true,’ he said evenly. ‘Families scare me stupid. I never thought I could try. I’ll admit I’m falling for Dusty, but now…if you were standing on a desert island, just you, no links to my life, no links to Dusty, I believe I’d still love you.’
It was enough to give a girl pause. It was enough to make a woman want to sink…
‘Owww…’ The scream cut through the stillness and Ben grimaced. Kathy’s time was getting close.
They needed to return.
‘In my next life,’ he said, ‘I’m planning on being an accountant. No interruptions. But this lifetime… If you marry me you’ll have to put up with babies all the time.’
‘I’m not marrying you,’ she said, breathless. Panicked. ‘And even if I was, I’d have my own babies.’
‘Our own babies.’ He smiled. ‘That’s fine by me.’
‘No!’ It wasn’t what she’d meant. He knew it.
He was still smiling and her heart was twisting…
‘Doctor…’ It was Mike and he sounded panicky. ‘She’s pushing.’
The medical imperative.
‘We’ll resume this conversation later,’ Ben said, striding back to Kathy. ‘Do you want to take Dusty out of earshot? Kathy sounds like she’s going to use her lungs to push.’
‘Dusty’s an obstetrician’s kid. He’s spent a whole lot of his life in waiting rooms outside birthing suites when I’ve just needed to pop in and check. He knows there’s screaming and screaming.’
‘He’s a great kid.’
‘Go and welcome another great kid into the world,’ she said, a trifle unsteadily. ‘And we’re not discussing anything more about us personally. Nothing at all.’
It wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped. Kathy moved into second stage and nothing happened.
The fear and loneliness of the last few months had taken its toll, Jess thought, as had the fact that Kathy had worked to the end. She was too thin. She was tired. She simply didn’t have the energy to push.
In Jessie’s big London teaching hospital Kathy might find herself whisked off for a Caesarean, especially as there was no equipment other than a stethoscope to monitor the baby. But Ben appeared totally unfussed. He used the stethoscope to check the baby’s heartbeat but he seemed to do it almost as an extension of checking Kathy. There was no hint to Kathy that he was worried.
As Kathy grew more panicked he took her hands. He waited for the next contraction to pass, and then he moved deliberately into her line of sight, holding her so she had to look at him. She was wild eyed and frantic.
He simply held.
‘Kathy, you can do this,’ he said, strongly and firmly. ‘But your baby needs you to stop panicking, now.’
‘I can’t… I can’t…’
‘You can,’ he said, in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘I know it hurt
s like hell. We don’t have drugs here to help you so you need to do this on your own. But the pain you’re feeling… Imagine there’s a pumpkin in there trying to get out. Your body’s squeezing and squeezing. There’s about a quarter of an inch extra room it needs, it’s hurting every time you push, but if you can just manage one or two mighty heaves…’
‘I can’t!’
‘You must because while the pumpkin’s still in there, it’ll keep on hurting. One mighty push, it’s out and the pain’s on the other side. Over. That last little bit, Kathy, it’s so close you can touch it. Use the time between contractions to gather your strength and then when your body pushes you go for it. Push with everything you have, push through the pain and then there’ll be no pain. I promise. I know it’s like biting on a broken tooth, but at the end you won’t have a broken tooth, you’ll have a pumpkin.’
‘A pump—’
‘I mean a baby,’ Ben said, hastily, and smiled, and she almost managed to smile back.
She met his eyes. He looked at her calmly and surely, and then he slipped her hand back into Mike’s.
‘Okay,’ he said, moving to the far end of the bed, to where he needed to be to catch a pumpkin. ‘You have you two up your end of the bed, pushing, and you have Jess and me at this end, waiting to catch. Mighty effort, Kath, love. Push!’
She pushed.
She stopped screaming and pushed again.
She pushed once more. Yeah, okay, a scream, but… ‘Here’s the head,’ Ben said, jubilant. ‘Black hair!’
‘A black-haired pumpkin,’ Kathy moaned, and pushed once more, fiercely, strongly, with everything she had, and one perfect little girl slid out to greet the world.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
It wasn’t exactly a restful Christmas afternoon. Animals still needed feeding. Babies needed caring for. Half the resort staff seemed to find an excuse to pop over and see the action.
One baby girl, two dazed, proud parents, four puppies, a resort full of animals.
What a Christmas!
The hotel buggy appeared at dusk with turkey sandwiches, mango trifle and champagne. They ate like they were starving. What had happened to their midday meal?
They could have Christmas pudding for breakfast.
Dynamite Doc or Christmas Dad? Page 16
