‘The floor?’ Eve said, puzzled, and Molly laughed.
‘When did you last see a normal, natural birth?’
‘Um—probably ages ago,’ Eve confessed, and Molly patted her hand.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll try and make sure you get to see plenty before I vanish on maternity leave in a fortnight, so Hugh doesn’t spend his entire time filling your head with interventionist ideas.’
‘Is he likely to?’
Molly chuckled. ‘No, not really. He does everything he can to let people give birth without interference, to the point when even I might be starting to worry, but he’s like Sam—in there and sorting it fast when it needs it. And he’s got an excellent safety track record, so I’m inclined to trust him.’
‘Do you work with Sam?’ she asked, curious about their work-home partnership, and Molly laughed again, shaking her head.
‘Not if I can help it. We just take it home if we do, and carry on arguing over the supper table. Mostly we agree, and Sam’s a fantastic doctor, but, then, I’m biased.’
‘You should be, as he’s your husband,’ Eve said with a smile, and Molly chuckled.
‘Probably. We go back a long way. Did Hugh tell you?’
She shook her head. ‘No. He said you were a fascinating woman and you’d tell me yourself.’
‘Fascinating?’ She smiled. ‘Maybe. I’ve had two babies for other people—carried implanted embryos for them. The second was for Sam and his first wife.’
Eve felt her jaw sag, and hastily recovered herself. ‘Really? How incredible—I’ve never met a surrogate mother before.’
‘Well, you have now. And it was amazing. A bit hard at the end—especially with Jack. I really didn’t want to hand him over, but when they put him in Sam’s arms…’ She shrugged. ‘Somehow it all seemed right then. I knew he’d be OK with Sam.’
But not the mother. How interesting—and also interesting that she sounded like she’d been in love with Sam even at that point, although she hadn’t said so in as many words. But to hand over the baby…
She gave a little shiver. ‘I can’t imagine going through all that and giving my baby away.’
‘It wasn’t my baby. I said that over and over again, both times, and it was the only thing that got me through it some days. The first time I didn’t know if I could, but my own daughter Libby had brought me and my husband so much joy, and when he died, I thought it was something I could do for someone else. So I had Laura, and Libby knew all about her, and we’re still in touch, so it was OK.’
‘So how did Sam find out about you being a surrogate mother? Did you work together?’
‘No, not then. I met him when I visited another surrogate mum in hospital. She was his patient, and he’d talked to her about it. His wife couldn’t carry a child, but was desperate, he said, and she’d asked him to make enquiries. And that was it. I agreed, stupidly fell in love with him, gave him his child and tried to put it out of my mind. But I could never forget Jack—or Sam. And then he started working here, and we met again, and that was it. His wife had died in an accident, I’d been widowed for years, and we were both free. It seemed the obvious thing to do, to get married, and then we had Bonnie. She’s two now.’
‘And now you’re having another one, which will be your…’ she did a quick mental tot-up ‘…fifth pregnancy?’
Molly groaned and chuckled. ‘For my sins. My poor old body will never be the same again.’ But she said it cheerfully, as if it didn’t really matter, not compared to the joy of bringing a child into the world, and Eve felt a little lump forming in her throat.
One day, she promised herself. Only a few more years, a few more mountains to climb, a few more targets to meet, and she could think about it. She’d have her family one day, when she was ready, but in the meantime she was a doctor, and for now that was more than enough to make her happy.
‘And Hugh’s in charge of your antenatal care?’ she said, getting back to business.
‘Yes, poor man,’ Molly said with another smile. ‘I wouldn’t want his job, not with Sam hovering over him and checking every decision he makes. I’ll have to make sure I have a nice, uncomplicated delivery when you’re on duty, so you can come and enjoy it and have a bit of light relief. Talking of which, fancy a cup of tea? I’m off duty now, and the kids are taken care of, so for once I’ve actually got time to sit down and have a civilised conversation.’
Eve nodded. ‘That would be wonderful. In fact, if you can tell me anything about where I should live and how I go about finding an appropriate letting agent, it would be fantastic, because I’ve got to get somewhere by Monday, and although Sam was kind enough to offer to let me stay with you—Did you know that, by the way?’ Molly smiled and nodded, and Eve continued, ‘I think you’ve probably got enough on your plate and, anyway, I’d quite like to get sorted. Being officially homeless is very unsettling.’
‘Oh, I agree. Although you’re more than welcome, but it’s not the same as a place of your own, and the kids are a bit full on until you’re used to them. Let me get my bag and we’ll go and grab the paper from the newsagent’s in Reception and study it. It’s property day today and there’s usually a big rental section. You might be lucky and find something straight away.’
So that was it. They settled down over tea and pored over the adverts, and Molly told her about the various areas, and within half an hour she had an appointment with an agent to view a river-front apartment with a balcony and dedicated parking.
It wasn’t cheap, but it sounded lovely and it sounded safe and it was five minutes from the hospital, and they were all high on her list of priorities. Apart from which, it was available immediately.
She took it, one glance at the flat enough to convince her, and by the end of the day she had a new job, a new home and, in Molly, a new friend.
Not a bad day’s work, she thought, and then drove back to her brother’s house, packed up all her possessions and drove back to Audley the following day, Friday, collected the key from the letting agent, signed all the legal stuff and moved into her new home with a huge sigh of relief.
Finally, after the hell of the last two months, her life was back on track, and for the first time in ages she was actually looking forward to the future.
Hugh spent the weekend tearing his hair out.
The kids were a nightmare—no surprises there, then, and when had parenting ever been easy?—and when he finally got ten minutes to himself late on Sunday afternoon he stuck his head out into the garden and realised that the winter had gone, spring was here and the weeds were having a field day.
Good. He could get stuck into them, rip them all out and burn off a bit of his frustration.
‘Dad? There’s someone called Eve on the phone for you,’ his daughter Lucy yelled through the window, and he stripped off his gardening gloves and went back in, shocked at his eagerness.
‘Eve?’ he said, picking up the receiver, and her voice, soft and hesitant, came down the line and went straight to his heart—literally. His pulse speeded up, he felt the pounding in his neck, in his head—Damn. Everywhere!
So much for dealing with his frustration!
‘I’m so sorry to ring you at home, but with the short notice and everything we didn’t really arrange when and where I should find you tomorrow. I got your number from Molly Gregory. She suggested I ring you. I hope that’s OK?’
‘Of course it is.’ More than OK. It was bloody fantastic, and if he’d had a working brain left that fact would have worried him sick, but he was too busy listening to her voice to listen to reason. ‘Look, this is probably too short notice, because I expect you’re still unpacking and settling in, but are you doing anything this evening?’
Her laugh was music to his ears. ‘No. There’s a limit to how long it takes to arrange the few things you can get in a car and I’ve been here since Friday. Why?’
‘I thought you could come round here for supper, and we could talk through anything you’re worried or unsur
e about.’ And he could get to see her again, without an audience, because the kids were going out and he’d have the place to himself.
He felt his gut tighten with anticipation, and held his breath waiting for her reply.
‘Oh. Well—that would be lovely,’ she said. ‘If you’re sure? It’s not very much notice.’
‘It’s enough, if you don’t expect cordon bleu. Seven?’
‘Fine.’
He gave her the address and directions, and as he cradled the phone, a silly smile tugging at his lips, Lucy said, ‘So who’s Eve, then?’
He jerked up straight, then rammed his hands in his pockets, wandered over to the fridge and opened the door, trying hard to school his expression and look casual. ‘My new registrar. She’s coming over to talk shop.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘And we could do with some peace. Still want to go to Amy’s?’
‘You said I couldn’t! You said I had to stay in and get an early night.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. You can have an early night at Amy’s.’
She snorted, and he levelled a finger at her. ‘Don’t push it. I just want a chance to talk to Eve without constant interruptions and arguments, and if you get to spend the evening with Amy on the back of it, if you’ve got any sense, you’ll shut up and take advantage of it. All right?’
‘All right!’ she said with a grin, and went out chanting, ‘Dad fancies Eve, Dad fancies Eve.’
‘Who’s Eve?’ Tom asked, strolling in and looking deeply curious.
Hugh scrubbed his hand round the back of his neck and scowled at his daughter’s retreating back.
‘My new registrar—and I do not fancy her!’ he retorted, conscious of the lie but deeply unwilling to lay himself bare to his increasingly hard-to-fool children. Lord, was nothing sacred?
‘Whatever,’ Tom said. ‘Can I stay at Kelly’s tonight?’
‘No. You’ve got school tomorrow, and you’ve got exams coming up after Easter.’
‘Dad, they’re months away.’
‘Not that long.’
‘Well, can Kelly stay the night, then?’
‘What—here?’
‘Yes, here.’
He gave up and shut the fridge door. ‘No. You can go out with her this evening, and then when you leave whichever pub you’re taking her to, you can drive her home and come back.’
‘Yeah, but that’s the thing, you see, Dad. It’s Rick’s birthday and I want to have a drink and I can’t if I’m driving.’
‘Then you’ll have to put Kelly in a taxi or walk her home.’
‘Why can’t she just stay here?’
‘Because you have to go to school tomorrow and, whatever you say, I know you haven’t got all your stuff ready and haven’t finished your homework. And, besides, I’ve got better things to do all night than listen to creaking boards while you two sneak around.’
‘Sneak around?’ His son sat down at the kitchen table and laughed at him. ‘You really think whether she stays here or not makes any difference? Get real, Dad. I’m nearly eighteen. Wake up and smell the coffee.’
And he walked out, leaving Hugh staring after him, his heart sinking.
History repeating itself?
Wake up and smell the coffee, indeed! He swore softly but comprehensively, yanked the fridge door open again and stared blindly at the contents. Why on earth had he complicated things so much by asking Eve to come here? He could have gone to her, met her somewhere, taken her out for dinner…
No. That was even more complicating. This could at least be passed off as two colleagues getting together to discuss work issues.
And pigs flew.
He snatched Parmesan cheese, a bag of peppers, a red onion, some cherry tomatoes and a bag of frilly lettuce from the fridge, shut the door and hunted for a new jar of pesto. Keep it simple, he told himself. Pasta in pesto with roasted vegetables and a tossed salad. Simple.
He was rapidly getting the feeling it was the only thing about this day that would be.
Eve checked her notes, checked the road name and drove slowly down the tree-lined street. Here—35, with a light over the front door and clear brass numerals. A big Victorian house, painted a soft yellow, with two gables facing the road and a dark red front door in the centre with a fanlight over the top, it looked smart, but at the same time friendly and welcoming. There was a light on in the hall and it showed off the beautiful old stained-glass panels in the door, obviously of the same period as the house and giving it a wonderfully cosy feel.
She parked the car outside and got out, feeling a little nervous. It was definitely a family house, and she could hear music through the upstairs window on the right.
That sort of music, the sort that only teenagers could bear to listen to. She wondered how old his children were, and what his wife was like, and how she might feel about having a strange woman suddenly foisted on her on a Sunday evening when she’d probably rather sit down with a glass of wine and do nothing.
She told herself that the sensation she was feeling at the thought that Hugh was married couldn’t possibly be disappointment; she didn’t want to get involved with a man at this stage in her career, especially not her boss.
But there’d been that look they’d exchanged after she’d closed for him on Thursday after Jeannie’s operation, a brooding look full of heat and promise and a connection so powerful she couldn’t possibly have imagined it.
Could she? But, in any case, there was no way she’d act on it! After the kerfuffle with the professor, her colleagues were way off limits, and as for her boss—well, a married man with a growing family was right off the scale!
‘Eve.’
She looked up, saw him standing beside the car, a smile of welcome in his eyes, and she opened the door and got out, glad to see he was dressed as casually as her. She’d wondered if her jeans and jumper would be too low key, but after dithering around with her wardrobe for hours…
‘Hi again,’ she said, wondering why her heart was suddenly misbehaving. She really needed to listen to her own advice. She wasn’t interested in him. At all! She looked around and groped for practicalities. ‘Will my car be OK here?’
He shrugged. ‘We’ve got streetlights, it should be fine, but you can put it in the drive if you want. It’s up to you, but Tom’s going out in a minute and we’ll have to shuffle the cars if you do. It’s not a problem, though. Want me to get the keys?’
She shook her head and smiled wryly, wondering who Tom was. His son? Surely he wasn’t old enough to have a son who was driving already? Heavens, he was wearing well! ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ she replied, dragging her thoughts back to the car parking. ‘It looks a deeply respectable neighbourhood.’
He laughed. ‘Oh, it is. Frightfully respectable. We lower the tone, I’m afraid. Come on in. It’ll be quieter when Tom goes out. We’re on our own for the evening, so we should be able to deal with all your questions and I can tell you a bit more about the hospital.’
We as in him and his wife, or we as in him and her, just the two of them?
She felt a flicker of nerves, but it was the two of them, it seemed, because no one else appeared. No wife to greet her in a flurry of expensive perfume and thinly disguised intolerance, and take the edge off this stupid anticipation she was feeling. Unfortunately.
Hugh led her down the hall and past the bottom of the stairs into the kitchen, a lovely bright room with doors opening into the garden. It was a little chaotic, reflecting the clutter of family life, and the notice-board on the wall was overflowing. She wondered who kept track of the family social calendar, and felt sorry for them. It looked a nightmare.
‘Have a seat, I just need to put the pasta on. Red, white or something soft?’
‘Oh—soft, please, I’m driving.’
He poured her a glass of pressed apple juice, bitty and cloudy and packed with flavour, and she sipped it and made appreciative noises and watched him shred salad and shave Pa
rmesan cheese with a wicked-looking implement.
A younger version of him stuck his head round the door after a couple of minutes, grinned at her and said, ‘Hi, there. I’m Tom. You must be the new registrar. Welcome to the madhouse.’
‘Thank you.’ She returned his smile, registering the fact that Tom must be his son, if looks were anything to go by, and apparently old enough to drive, amazing though it seemed. His next words confirmed it.
‘I’m off, Dad. I’ll leave the car at Kel’s and we’ll walk into town from there.’
‘You come back here tonight,’ Hugh said, pointing the cheese slicer at his son, and she guessed she was coming in in the middle of an argument. A prickle of unease settled in her spine, and she shifted in her chair, paying undue attention to her drink.
‘Lucy’s out for the night,’ Tom protested.
‘I don’t care about that. I’m not talking about your sister, I’m talking about you.’
‘Yeah, whatever. See you.’
‘Tom, I’m warning you—’
But the front door banged, leaving them in silence, and after a second Hugh sighed heavily, muttered, ‘Kids!’ under his breath and headed for the fridge.
It could have been a scene from her teens, she thought, and shook off the memory. Her teens weren’t something she wanted to dwell on, especially not tonight.
‘You OK with pasta and pesto, by the way?’ Hugh was saying. ‘I meant to ask you earlier.’
She nodded, suddenly terribly conscious of how alone they were, but she needn’t have worried, because Hugh seemed to be going out of his way to keep it friendly and casual. He kept a safe, respectable distance, there were no loaded looks and if she’d had the sense to worry about his motives, his manner would have put her at ease immediately.
So she relaxed, and by the time they’d eaten a simple but messy meal of roasted Mediterranean vegetables, springy spaghetti in pesto and disobediently frilly lettuce, their chins were covered in oil and the ice was well and truly broken.
‘Sorry, I could have chosen something a little more dignified to eat,’ he said with a grin, and then frowned thoughtfully. ‘You’ve got pesto on your chin,’ he murmured. For a moment she thought he was going to lean over and wipe it with his napkin, but she collected herself and got there first.
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