A Surgeon, A Midwife - A Family

by Gill Sanderson

  'Danielle Benson, aged twenty-one. Two kids, one boy Derek aged three, the second, Kylie, just a year old. I operated on Kylie. She seems to be doing well now.'

  'Husband?'

  'Wayne. He's been a waste of space, in and out of small-time trouble, in and out of prison. But I thought he was improving. The thing is, Danielle tries. She loves the kids to bits. She has a couple of cleaning jobs and all her money goes on the kids.'

  'What pills was she talking about?'

  Jack laughed, without much humour. 'As if she didn't have enough to worry about. She's got high blood pressure, it rocketed after Kylie was born. She's on hypertensives and if she takes her medication she's all right.'

  Miranda nodded. 'I know. And if she doesn't take the pills, she still feels fine. So why carry on taking them? And then, she doesn't know, but...'

  'Possibly nothing. Or possibly a heart attack or a stroke. I see you've been there before.'

  Danielle lived in a large multi-storey block of flats, not too far from the Landmoss clinic. A small figure in tight jeans and an extra-large sweater, she wrenched open the door the minute Jack tapped on it. 'Oh, Mr Sinclair. I'm so glad you've come! It's Wayne and he promised that he would...'

  Jack eased her back into the living room. 'Good to See you, Danielle,' he said, 'Now, this is Miranda Gale, she's a midwife and a colleague of mine. The first thing we do is I want to have a look at you. Then you can make us some tea and we'll have a talk. Quietly and without getting excited.'

  Miranda looked around. Danielle's living room was immaculate. The furniture was old but polished, there were photographs of the children on the walls and a few knick-knacks and ornaments were displayed on the mantelpiece and shelves. It was a pleasant room to be in.

  'Have you been taking your pills?' Jack asked.

  Danielle looked shamefaced. 'Missed them this morning,' she muttered. 'I was excited with Wayne coming out and all. But I took them later. It's all his fault he...'

  'Sit over there and roll up your sleeve,' said Jack. 'I need to take your blood pressure, then listen to your heart. And you try to calm down. We can sort things out. Do you mind if Miranda here takes a look at the kids?'

  'They're asleep. Derek's been that excited at seeing his dad and...'

  Jack took her by the arm, led her to a chair. 'Sit down, close your eyes, take a couple of deep breaths. We can sort things out.'

  He nodded to Miranda. 'First door on the left. They're lovely kids.'

  They were. It was a tiny bedroom, but there were toys there, pictures of numbers on the wall and shelves filled with neatly folded clothes. Derek, the older, was firmly asleep, and one-year-old Kylie was just starting to grizzle. Miranda waited a moment, then picked the baby up. She was obviously not going to settle.

  Back in the living room Miranda saw a side of Jack she'd not seen before. Previously she had thought him pleasant but aloof, keeping most people at a distance. Now she saw just how friendly and approachable he could be. Danielle was crying. And Jack was comforting her.

  Miranda felt just a little embarrassed. She had offered to come to help Jack, and had hinted that she thought that he couldn't cope with life in the raw. Now she saw she was wrong. Jack knew exactly how to comfort and reassure Danielle.

  Miranda sat quietly in a corner and cuddled Kylie. She liked having the child so close to her, feeling the warmth and smelling that unique baby smell while she listened to Danielle's tearful story.

  'He came out of prison yesterday. He swore he wouldn't go back, said he didn't need to do drugs no more, he'd been on a programme. He'd get a job—if he could. And you know, Mr Sinclair, I've been working myself. I've been putting a bit aside every week, so we could have a good Christmas. And then this afternoon a couple of his old pals came round and he went out with them. And when he'd gone I looked in my drawer, where I keep my extra money. And he'd taken the lot.'

  Jack looked thoughtful. 'I thought he was on the right path, Danielle,' he said. 'I'm surprised. I thought he might have changed at last.'

  'Well, he hasn't!' A clearly angry Danielle tried to keep her voice low. 'He's as bad as he was before, only worse. Now I just want rid of him.'

  Miranda had heard many stories like this before. Being a district midwife was not just about babies.

  'I wonder if you ought to—' Jack started, when there was the sound of a key in the door. The door opened and in walked Wayne. He was a thin, red-haired man, looking very apprehensive. He looked more apprehensive still when he saw Jack. 'Oh. It's you, Mr Sinclair,' he said.

  'Where's my money? I worked for that money to give us a Christmas, and you...' Danielle hurled herself across the room, to be caught expertly by Jack. 'Danielle! Sit down and listen!'

  To Miranda's surprise, Danielle did as she was told.

  'This is not my problem,' Jack said to Wayne. 'If you want, I'll go. But I have a medical responsibility to the children, and I shall have to report that I'm not very happy about things here. Now, I can tell you've had a drink, but I doubt you've been taking drugs.'

  'I'm not doing drugs! I've been on a programme and I'm sticking to it!'

  'So where is Danielle's money?'

  Wayne slumped onto a chair. 'You don't know what it's like inside. I owed these people some money and they aren't people you cross. There was just enough to pay them off, so I did.'

  'You paid them off in full?'

  'In full. In fact, there's a bit left, a fiver.'

  'A fiver!' Danielle screamed. 'There was over two hundred in that drawer that I've saved, and my week's housekeeping as well!'

  Wayne looked hunted. 'I'll get it back to you. Somehow.'

  'Somehow? You haven't even got a job. Who'll employ you?'

  'I know someone who'll employ him,' said Jack. And there was silence in the room.

  Jack took out one of his cards, wrote an address on the back of it and handed the card to Wayne. 'That's a firm on the Dock Road. Get there before eight tomorrow and ask for Mr Callow. He's an old friend of mine, I'll ring him tonight. He'll give you work. It'll be hard and the pay isn't much at first, but it's work.'

  Miranda looked at Wayne, who seemed unable to believe his luck. 'Thanks,' he mumbled. 'Won't let you down, Mr Sinclair.'

  'It wouldn't be me you were letting down. It'd be Danielle and the kids.'

  Then Jack reached for his wallet, took out a bundle of notes. Miranda couldn't help it, 'Jack,' she muttered, 'I wonder if...'

  But he looked at her, a hard, deliberate look, and she said nothing more. Here he was in charge and she realised that he knew what he was doing.

  He said, 'This is a loan. Eighty pounds housekeeping for you, Danielle, twenty for you, Wayne, you'll need some money to travel. Pay me back, twenty pounds a week—OK?'

  'We're not taking your money,' Danielle snapped. 'We don't need charity.'

  'You don't need money, your children do! And you're not getting charity, you're getting a loan! Right?'

  'Right,' muttered Danielle. 'And you can count on it, you'll get it back.'

  'Then we'll be off. Miranda, perhaps Wayne would like to hold Kylie now.'

  Rather reluctantly, Miranda handed the now sleeping baby over. Jack had a couple more words with Danielle and then they were gone.

  As they made their way down the stairs, Miranda sighed. 'I was wrong,' she said. 'You didn't need me, you knew exactly what to say and what to do and you did it.'

  'I was glad you were there. You holding the baby meant I could concentrate on Danielle. And you seemed very taken with young Kylie.'

  'She's a lovely baby. Jack, you lent them money. And we were told to never never never lend money to patients. I wanted to say something but... I didn't.'

  'I'm glad. I know it was a risk. But sometimes in life you've got to take a risk. And I think this one was worthwhile.'

  They walked out of the entrance to the car. With a smile she asked, 'Surgeons take risks?'

  'I said in life, not in surgery.' He glanced at his watch. 'Now, I
'd like to say thank you in some way. Would you like to stop off somewhere and have a drink?'

  She thought. Yes, she really, desperately would like to have a drink with Jack. She was getting to know him, she was getting to like him. Perhaps in time they could... But she'd made arrangements!

  'Well, I really would,' she said. 'But I've already arranged to go out with Annie and the others from the department. Annie won't go until I'm home to go with her.' She looked at him, hoping he could see how hopeful she was. 'Jack, we're going to the Red Lion together. Why don't you come along, too?'

  'Because of you I have changed a bit,' he said. 'But don't rush me.'

  *

  Fifteen minutes later she was in her bath. Annie had phoned her to say she was going to be late so there was no hurry. So Miranda lay in her bath and pondered.

  She had to think about Jack. She had to think about what he was doing to her. She had come to the Dell Owen Hospital determined to start afresh, to throw herself into both the professional and the social life. Well, she was loving the work. But the social life?

  No need for false modesty, she knew she was attractive. So far, two men had invited her out. Nothing too exciting—one had invited her for a drink at the Red Lion, the other had asked if she'd like to go to a party with him. One was a SHO, the other a nurse. They had been friendly, casual invitations and she had quite liked both men. If she had accepted either invitation perhaps something might have come of it.

  But, although she wanted to be part of the hospital social life, she hadn't accepted. And the reason was Jack. The two young men were fine. But compared with Jack, they were children. She had to admit it. She was attracted to Jack—but slightly frightened as well. Could she cope with his intensity?

  Then she laughed ruefully to herself. Why worry if she could cope? So far he had been friendly but had shown no great indication that he was really interested in her. Or had he?

  Miranda didn't know what to expect when she was summoned to his room two days later. Just a note in her pigeonhole—could she call in to see him when it was convenient?

  He was sitting there in his usual dark suit and white shirt. She realised it was his uniform. Other doctors might have coloured shirts, bright ties. But Jack Sinclair would hide behind formality.

  'I gather that on Saturday you're going to a conference in Leeds,' he told her, 'on Problems with TPN.'

  TPN was total parenteral nutrition. Occasionally, often after surgery, an infant would be unable to take in sufficient nutrition by mouth. The answer was to feed the child through a catheter that led straight into a vein. There could be problems, often to do with nursing care. There was a risk of blood-borne infections because there was a direct opening into the bloodstream. And there could be problems with the solution that was being fed into the vein.

  'That's right,' she said, slightly surprised. 'How did you know?'

  'I'm going myself and I got the attendance list this morning. You know there are some separate sessions, one for nurses and the other for doctors?'

  'I know. I'm looking forward to learning something.'

  'Good. So am I. How are you going to get to Leeds?'

  'I'll take my battered old car. It'll get me there.' She grinned. 'Why? Do you want a lift?'

  'Actually, I wondered if you would like a lift. I'm driving up, too, and it seems foolish to take two cars.'

  'Yes, I would like a lift,' she said after a moment's thought. 'Thank you very much.'

  'I'll enjoy taking you. Now, I'll pick you up at eight. Where do you live?'

  Why did she feel so elated when she left his room? It was only a colleague being helpful to another. Wasn't it?

  * * *

  Jack stared at the door that Miranda had just closed and wondered what he had just done. It had not been a sudden decision, he had thought about it all the previous night. So much so that in the end he had got angry with himself. Why worry so much? This was only offering a colleague a lift to a conference. Nothing more than that.

  But Jack had never deceived himself. When she had said she would come with him he had felt a sudden rush of pleasure, far more than was justified by a colleague just accepting a lift. He had also seen the spark of excitement in her eyes when she said she'd come.

  He had told her when they left Danielle Benson's flat that sometimes people had to take a risk. Now he was taking a risk. For a long time now—perhaps too long— he had been the cool one, carefully detached from any kind of emotional life. Was he about to change? He didn't know.

  Then he realised he was thinking just about himself. What about Miranda? All he could tell himself was that she attracted him more than any woman had done in years.

  *

  'He's giving you a lift to a conference?' Annie looked at her friend in amazement. 'To the best of my knowledge, he's never taken anyone anywhere before.'

  'He said it was foolish to take two cars. Perhaps he's concerned about the environment.'

  'Environment? That's a new name for it. He's giving you a lift because he fancies you. And because you're the best-looking woman in the department.'

  'That's a nice thing to hear,' Miranda said, rather pleased with the compliment, 'but I don't think our surgeon is over-concerned with looks. He's far too serious.'

  'Perhaps you're right.' Annie took Miranda's hands in her own, squeezed them a moment and then let go. 'One thing to remember, though—when you're a surgeon you have to have absolute confidence in yourself. I've watched him working, there's an intensity, a concentration to him that's almost frightening. Whatever he does, he does to the limit. And I suspect that'll include falling in love.'

  'Annie! I'm going to a medical conference with him and there'll be a hundred other delegates there! This is not a day for romance.' Miranda wondered if she sounded sufficiently convincing.

  'Perhaps that's not your intention—or his. But things can change very rapidly. Just how attracted to him are you?'

  This was a question that had been occupying Miranda's mind. 'I'm still recovering from one disastrous love affair,' she said slowly, 'and I'll have to live with the consequences of that for the rest of my life. But Jack.. .he wakes feelings in me that I thought were dead. And perhaps they were better that way.'

  Annie rose and hugged her friend. 'Good luck,' she said. 'You'll need it.'

  What to wear when you're going to a medical conference with your consultant? Formal or festive? Bright coloured or sombre? Difficult choices. Annie helped her.

  She was dressed and waiting for him at half past seven next morning. He arrived, as she'd guessed he would, precisely at eight. In his sleek black sports car. It matched his suit.

  She was wearing a burgundy-coloured dress with a short suede jacket. She felt smart but professional. She wasn't expecting him to comment. But when he saw her he said, 'Miranda, you look good in scrubs or uniform. In a dress you look gorgeous.'

  She looked at him in genuine surprise. 'Well thank you, kind sir. I didn't know you did compliments.'

  'One of my less well-known skills. Shall we go?'

  He drove with the same skill as he operated— precisely, expertly, safely. They quickly negotiated the suburbs and headed along the motorway towards Leeds. Miranda had never been driven in such a luxurious car before, and rather liked it. And she liked the feeling of confidence that Jack gave her. She knew she was safe with him. Well, safe from a road accident.

  Miranda found the conference hard work, but she liked it. With TPN, first there was the danger of sepsis, of infection getting straight into the bloodstream. This was of particular interest to nurses, since they were in charge of the day-to-day welfare of their charges. The second danger was more subtle. No parenteral food could offer the complete nutrition that the baby needed. And sometimes the baby's immune system would reject the injected fluids. To combat this, an amino acid called glutamine could be used, which suppressed the immune system. But then there were other undesirable side effects.

  The first couple of hours were joint se
ssions, for both doctors and nurses, and Miranda found some of the scientific concepts were new to her. But after a break they split and she found the practical sessions for nurses to be very useful. She learned a lot, knew that in future she'd be a better children's nurse.

  Jack enjoyed the conference, enjoyed being with Miranda. He too had learned quite a bit. But there was no doubt that her presence had made a reasonable day into a very good one. He thought she had enjoyed it, too, and was as sorry as she was when the conference ended.

  They started for home. He liked driving, liked the feeling of being in control of the powerful car. And it was uncanny, Miranda guessed what he was thinking. 'A bit different from my antique rustbucket, isn't it?' she asked.

  They felt the same things at the same time. He remembered what she had said about love when they had been in the little side ward. That it could be felt, recognised, without there needing to be anyone speaking. Not quite the same thing. But.. .the two of them seemed to get on so well.

  He hadn't intended to do it, the decision was a sudden one. Just when they were at the top of the Pennines he turned off the motorway onto a side road. Suddenly they were away from the bright motorway lights and into the darkness of the moors. Then they turned off the side road onto something that was little more than a track.

  Miranda was curious. 'Where are we going?' she asked.

  'Just a little diversion, we'll only be fifteen minutes or so. Something I want to show you.' They stopped and he went on, 'Only a few yards walk from here. I...I often come here when I'm passing at night.'

  'On your own?'

  Now, that was an interesting question and it raised other questions but he avoided thinking about them. 'I very seldom have anyone with me when I come this way.'

  He was still not quite sure why he had brought Miranda there.

  He locked the car and side by side they walked up the track. At times their hands brushed, but he didn't reach out to take hers. Perhaps he would on the way back, he thought. Perhaps things would be different between them then.