A Surgeon, A Midwife - A Family

by Gill Sanderson

  Time to move over to Theatre and start scrubbing up.

  But as he walked through the department he detoured a little to look in on the side ward where he knew Miranda was working. No special reason, he didn't intend to talk to her, just to look at her through the ward window.

  She was on her own, a baby clasped in her arms. Her head was bent, she was smiling at the child, and her lips were moving. Like so many of the midwives, she talked to her charges. But she looked so happy, so at peace. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

  He remembered how Annie had started to tell him about Miranda. She had said that something had happened to her...and then had stopped. Obviously a confidence. For a moment he wondered what Miranda's story was. Then he dragged his eyes away, pulled himself together and headed briskly to Theatre.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She hadn't intended to creep up on him. She was starting her shift and she found Jack alone in a side ward, holding one of the babies.

  Perhaps he had just picked up little Scott to examine him, Scott's parents were coming in to take him home, perhaps he wanted to make one last inspection. But there was a real gentleness in the way that he was holding the baby, more emotion in his expression than Miranda had ever seen him show. Except when he had been playing a lion.

  He looked up and saw Miranda. Instantly his features rearranged themselves and he was the cool, dispassionate surgeon again. 'Just making a last check,' he said, carefully placing little Scott back in his cot.

  'There's no need to explain. I love holding babies, too,' she said. 'And though they're so young and so tiny, I know they can feel that love.'

  'You think that love is some strange, intangible force that can pass from parent to child? Even a child as young as this?'

  She realised his question wasn't trying to mock what she had said. He genuinely wanted an answer. 'I'm certain of it. Aren't you?'

  'Well, there have been studies that suggest—'

  'Forget studies! This is to do with how you feel, not how you think. Everyone's been so close to someone that they know they are loved. Haven't you?'

  He didn't answer, and suddenly she realised just how personal her question was. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'That's not the kind of question I should ask.'

  'Perhaps not, Miranda. But it's OK.'

  She looked up, saw his smile and realised that he was teasing her. 'So do I get an answer, then?'

  His smile disappeared. But there was sadness rather than anger in his face.

  'I think I recognise the love you're talking about,' he said. 'Yes, perhaps I have felt it. A long time ago.'

  Then his expression changed, became professional again. The slight intimacy between them was now over, they had work to do. 'I believe the parents are in the waiting room,' he said. 'Could you bring them through, please?'

  'Of course.'

  Sarah and Peter Downs had both been almost speechless at the knowledge that the child they had longed for was now going to live after all. It had been a hard birth, a baby with so many difficulties. And these had been remedied, repaired, by this man.

  As she held Scott, Sarah was smiling, as if she'd been given something that she'd never believed she'd have. And—it was not at all unusual—her husband was in tears. Not taking her eyes off her son, Sarah said, 'You did this for us, Mr Sinclair. It was all down to you. You saved our baby's life.'

  'Not at all. It was a comparatively simple operation and was entirely a team effort. Now, you've been given details of how to look after young Scott here. Don't be frightened by how small he is, he's going to grow. And if you ever have the slightest worry, phone here straight away. I wish you all the best—you've got a lovely little boy there.'

  Jack shook hands with Sarah and Peter and left.

  'I'll take you downstairs now.' Miranda smiled. 'It'll also give me a chance to say goodbye to Scott.'

  Half an hour afterwards Miranda put her head round Jack's office door. 'The Downs have gone. They were so happy,' she said. 'When she held her baby she was crying with joy, and...she wanted to give you something. Something special.'

  Then she caught herself. She'd been getting on with Jack quite well, they were getting to know each other—professionally, of course—perhaps even getting to like each other. She admired his surgeon's skill, felt he approved of her competence as a midwife and children's nurse. But as yet they were feeling each other out. No one could call them close friends. Though—surprisingly—she thought they might become friends.

  'Something special?' he asked. 'A box of chocolates is fine but I don't really approve of gifts from parents to...'

  Well, she was only passing on a message. 'Mrs Downs wanted to give you a big kiss. So she asked me to pass it on to you.'

  Then she realised what she had said and went bright red. 'No! I don't mean that she wanted me to kiss you. I mean she wanted me to pass the message... Oh, no.' She winced. This was not the way to further her career in the Dell Owen Hospital. Perhaps he thought it was a come-on from her. And it wasn't. She did not, not, not want a relationship. Not for quite a while yet.

  Afterwards, she realised that he had handled an embarrassing situation of her making well. He laughed and said, 'Well, whatever Mrs Downs wants, Mrs Downs should have. If you don't mind, that is.' And he offered her his cheek.

  Her face flaming, Miranda kissed his cheek. Chastely. Well, what other way could you kiss a cheek?

  But she enjoyed being close to him. She remembered how he had smelt when he'd come into the staff lounge at Landmoss, a mixture of expensive aftershave and body warmth. He smelt just like that now.

  'But I think you probably shouldn't make a habit of passing on kisses for people. People might start to wonder.'

  'Yes, they might. I think I'll go now.'

  She wondered what her friends would say if she told them that she had just kissed the aloof Jack Sinclair. Then she thought of something else. He had asked— well, offered himself—to be kissed. He certainly hadn't had to. Was that usual?

  * * *

  Miranda met Annie for coffee again that lunchtime. They hadn't seen each other since the previous day.

  'I went to see Jack yesterday, expecting a real telling-off,' Annie told her, shaking out her dark curls. 'And, in fact, I deserved it. But he was really nice. Got me to sit down, gave me a coffee, talked about my career. When you get underneath that cold exterior, he's quite pleasant. He asked about you.'

  'Oh, yes? What did he want to know?' Miranda tried to speak carelessly, hoping her friend wouldn't notice her very real interest.

  'Nothing much. Just a general enquiry. He thinks you're a good nurse.'

  'I do my best,' Miranda said. But was that all he thought about her?

  'He seems to have changed a bit,' Annie went on. 'Not the same cool man he was before. Perhaps he met someone in America, and she's having a softening influence on him.'

  'It's a possibility,' Miranda agreed, then she firmly changed the subject.

  After lunch she found some advertising brochures in the nurses' rest room. The hospital was regularly inundated with expensively printed advertising material. There were a couple of them that, just possibly, ought to be seen by a doctor. Perhaps she'd drop them into Jack's office. See what he thought.

  'Come in, Miranda,' he said after she had hesitantly knocked. He smiled as she entered. 'If you're not in a hurry, would you like a coffee?'

  'I would like a coffee but I am in a hurry. Unfortunately.' She placed the advertising material on his desk. 'I just wondered if these might be of any interest to you.'

  She blushed slightly as she said this. She suspected that he knew it was just an excuse to come to see him.

  'I'll look at them later. Have you time to sit down?'

  In fact, she hadn't. In precisely five minutes she was due to relieve a midwife who had been on the morning shift and would be anxious to get home. 'No, I'm afraid not.' Then, daring, she added, 'But I'd like to some other time.'

  This was the new Miranda Gale. She'd
never have been so forward eighteen months ago.

  But Jack didn't seem to mind. 'Good.' He looked at her and from his expression she couldn't work out exactly what he was feeling. Was he laughing at her? Did he want something from her? Was he just curious about her? Whatever, his expression now made her feel uncomfortable.

  'You extracted a promise from me yesterday,' he said. 'And I always try to do what I have promised. So am I being more pleasant?'

  'You've only been trying for two half-days but perhaps you're improving. And I think that people you work with are a bit more at ease. And our babies are just as well looked after.'

  He growled. 'They'd better be. Any lowering of standards and I... Are you laughing at me?'

  'I see the old Jack Sinclair hasn't disappeared yet,' she said.

  'He might be less trouble than the new Jack Sinclair.

  Tell me, Miranda, what do you know of the law of unintended consequences?'

  She frowned. 'The what?'

  'The law of unintended consequences. It states that whenever you change something, no matter how good your intentions, there is a chance that something entirely unexpected will happen.'

  'So?'

  'So you want me to change. How do you think that will affect you personally? What consequences might there be for you?'

  She was feeling flustered now. 'No consequences. Why should there be?'

  'Who knows?'

  He stared at her imperturbably and went on, 'And this morning you kissed me. And I liked it—and so did you. Could that have unforeseen consequences?'

  'That was a kiss from Mrs Downs,' Miranda quavered, knowing this was one of the most stupid things she had ever said. 'It was only on the cheek.'

  'Of course it was. There was absolutely no feeling for me on your part. Was there?' He looked at her, his face bland, enquiring.

  'Well, not really, I... It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing... I just thought...'

  She knew she was red-faced with embarrassment and when she looked up she saw he was smiling at her. He was teasing her! She wouldn't have too much of that. Not any more. So she said, 'Jack, it was only a kiss on the cheek. But, yes, I enjoyed it. Did you?'

  Then her mouth dropped open and she gasped, 'Did I ask you that?'

  'Only we two are in the room,' he said. 'You must have done.' He picked up the brochures she had brought in. 'Thanks for these. I'll look at them later.'

  'And I've got work to do.' She was glad to escape. Only as she hurried down the corridor did she realise he hadn't answered her question. Had he enjoyed being kissed by her? She was being ridiculous.

  Jack closed his eyes as Miranda left his office, letting the brochures fall on the papers he had been reading before she'd knocked on his door. Teasing aside, yes, he'd enjoyed that kiss, even if it had been only on the cheek. Enjoyed the brief closeness and warmth. The delicate scent of her as her lips had brushed his skin. Enjoyed it far too much.

  Miranda Gale intrigued him, more than intrigued him. But it had been so long since he'd let someone get close to him. And not only that, she was a colleague. If people started to notice something between them, the hospital grapevine would go into overdrive.

  He'd had enough of being talked about, gossiped about. That's why he kept himself to himself and his colleagues at arm's length. So why was he breaking his strict rule—did he want to risk being the talk of the hospital again? His aloof façade was there to protect him from all that. Work and pleasure he kept distinctly separate. Veronica had taught him that lesson.

  Crossly, he shoved the magazines aside and tried to concentrate on his papers. But despite his rigid control, the memory of Miranda's blue eyes closing as she'd reached up to him, her soft lips gently pressing to his skin, refused to go away.

  Miranda worked happily for the next two hours. It was simple but absorbing work, specialling two babies who needed constant care. Connor Jones and Shannon Castle needed hourly obs, hourly feeds. She was see-sawing Connor's milk, gradually increasing the amount of milk and decreasing the glucose drip. She had to make sure he could tolerate the increased volume—but so far he was doing well and seemed to be enjoying the feeling of a full tummy for the first time. It made the job worthwhile.

  Shannon had developed jaundice. She was under phototherapy lights to allow the lights to break down the bilirubin tingeing her skin yellow. Left unchecked, excess bilirubin could lead to brain damage.

  And as Miranda worked she thought about Jack. There was a sense of possibilities, a wondering about the way he had looked at her. Now he knew she was a woman. She could tell by the way his eyes had hooded slightly, by the easy way he'd smiled. She wondered what he had meant when he had talked of the law of unexpected consequences. There was obviously an underlying message for her. And the talk about kissing!

  She had to be careful. Her life over the past few months had been full of hurt. And though there was something drawing her to Jack, she didn't want to risk that again. And she still felt that gaping sense of loss.

  For a moment she busied herself with the baby in her care, tried to control the tears that were welling in her eyes. She was getting better! She was learning to cope, think about something else!

  She did think about something else. And she realised that every time she saw Jack she was more aware of the lean body, the face she had called craggy. How anyone could call him ugly...

  She had finished for the day and was alone in the sisters' room. She'd just finished handover, briefing the midwife who would take over from her. Now it was home and a well-deserved rest... The phone rang. Miranda sighed. You couldn't ignore a ringing telephone in an obs and gynae department.

  'I want Jack Sinclair! Where is he? I want Jack Sinclair!'

  The speaker sounded like a young girl. And she also sounded hysterical.

  'I'm sorry, Mr Sinclair is operating,' Miranda said cautiously. 'There's absolutely no way he can be disturbed. I'm Miranda Gale, I'm a midwife here. Can I help you with anything? Or would you like to talk to someone else?'

  'No, you can't help me. Nobody can help me, I want Jack Sinclair. I want him now!'

  Miranda didn't like the note of desperation in the voice. 'I'm afraid that's quite impossible,' she said. 'He's in the middle of a long operation on a very sick baby. I just wouldn't dare to go and speak to him. But I will as soon as he finishes.'

  That appeared to make some sense to the girl. 'Suppose another hour or two won't matter,' she mumbled. 'Things can't get any worse. Pills don't help and—'

  'What pills?' Miranda was instantly alert.

  'I said they don't help. Nothing helps, there's nobody can help. Just forget it. I—'

  Miranda thought the girl was about to ring off, so she said urgently, 'I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. And the address is...?'

  'I'm Danielle Benson. He knows my address.' And then there was the burr of the replaced receiver.

  Miranda sighed. It wasn't unusual to get half-hysterical phone calls at the hospital. Jack presumably knew this girl so all she had to do was leave him a note for when he came out of the operating theatre. But Miranda wasn't going to do that. She'd wait and tell Jack in person. She wasn't quite sure why.

  He looked tired when he came out of Theatre, sat slumped in his scrubs in the changing room, and the look he gave her was distinctly cool. But when he saw her expression, his demeanour changed. 'Miranda, you look serious,' he said. 'Have I done something wrong?'

  She sat by him. 'Not quite,' she said. 'A girl—or a woman—phoned about an hour ago, demanding to talk to you. You alone, no one else would do. Then she rang off. Name was Danielle Benson. She mentioned pills.'

  Jack sighed. 'It's not my case any more. Danielle had a baby with a pyloric stenosis. I operated on her and the baby survived. Apparently she's doing well. The baby was my responsibility for a month and then Paediatrics and Social Services took over. But for some reason Danielle fastened on me. Thought I'd saved the life of her baby so I could do everything for her. She's rung several times.
I've reassured her and told her to get in touch with her social worker or her GP, but she refuses.'

  Miranda frowned. 'So are you going to see her now?'

  He looked unhappy. 'One of the biggest mistakes a doctor can make is getting involved with the personal lives of his patients.'

  'I know that. But you are going to see her, aren't you? She sounded desperate.'

  He shrugged. 'I'll phone her now and promise to call round later. There's not a lot I can do but I can be there.'

  'Would you like me to come with you?'

  Surprised, he looked at her. 'Is that an offer of help?'

  'I used to be a district midwife in Leeds and I worked some of the hardest districts there. I'm used to hard cases.'

  'Why should you want to come with me?'

  'This problem should be something I'm good at. You're a surgeon, you've got vast scientific resources, dozens of willing helpers, your skills are concentrated on a tiny unconscious baby. But all that is exact. You forget, a lot of medicine is messier than surgery. People are more awkward than bodies. You should know that hospitals only solve about half of people's problems.'

  He grinned at her. 'Well, that puts me in my place. Miranda, I'll accept your kind offer of assistance. I'll meet you in Reception in half an hour.'

  Miranda hurried off, she didn't know what exactly she might need—if she would need anything—but she borrowed a district midwife's bag. It made her feel complete.

  Then she wondered why she had volunteered to help Jack. She hadn't intended to do it when she'd passed on the message. But when she'd seen the black hair tumbling over his forehead, messed when he'd taken off his cap, and when she'd seen those tiny lines by his eyes and heard that deep voice, she'd wanted to spend time with him. No, she wanted to help him. She told herself firmly that that was all. And there was a baby who might need help.

  Then she wondered if she was being wise. She couldn't afford to get.. .attached to Jack. Not that way. It would be a disaster for both of them. But an offer of help between friends was fine.

  He had changed into a short coat, looked tougher than normal. Miranda had offered to drive, and as she drove, he told her about the case.