Now she had time to think of her night with Jack. It had been so good. In some strange spiritual way they fitted together—what pleased him pleased her. Nothing made her happier than making him happy. And she knew he felt the same way.
She thought of his birthday. He had said that he didn't celebrate it himself. Well, she would do it for him and they would enjoy it together. The question was how. And as she wondered, Toby came into the room.
He greeted her as he greeted so many people, a big beaming smile, an arm round her waist to give her a quick squeeze. He was pleased to see her, that was all. And now she was pleased to see him.
'Toby, a quick question. Which are the three best men's outfitters in town? And do they stay open late?'
Toby looked awe-struck. ' Not Jack? You're going shopping for him?'
'No. I'm going to take him shopping.'
Toby shook his head in disbelief. 'To think I should see this day.' He took out his notebook, wrote down three addresses. 'These are the best places I know.'
She looked critically at the list. 'They'll do very well,' she said. 'I hope he doesn't take too much persuading.'
'Just tell him that the sweater he so much admired came from the first shop. And he'll be hooked. What he really needs is—'
The door opened and in came Annie. She smiled at Miranda then her eyes flicked to Toby. 'Hi, you two,' she said casually. 'I wanted a coffee but now I remember where my notes were and I'll have to fetch them. See you.'
'Eat more fish,' Toby advised her. 'It's very good for the memory.'
'I'll remember that.' And Annie was gone.
Miranda looked thoughtfully at Toby—who was staring at the door and had suddenly lost his smile.
'Weren't you.. .close to Annie once?' she asked.
'Not close... Near might be a better word,' he said. 'Just for a while. I think Annie's a wonderful girl.'
Miranda wondered if she detected a touch of desolation in his words.
Jack was operating for most of the day. When she heard that he was back she went to his room. 'I've been wandering around with a silly smile all day,' she said. 'I still don't believe it. Did last night really happen? Will you kiss me again to prove that it did?'
He wrapped his arms round her, kissed her. Not a desperate, passion-led kiss—after all this was in the hospital—but the gentler kiss of one certain lover to another.
'It happened. And I feel a bit apprehensive. Things are going too well for me.'
'Don't worry, things can get even better.' She kissed him back. 'I'm going to take you out to celebrate on Saturday, when it's your birthday. Don't worry. It's not a birthday present, it's a you present. And it'll be a surprise.'
He still didn't seem too happy, but she ignored that. He'd come round.
'What about this evening?' he asked. 'Doing anything? If you want, we could—'
'I've got plans for you. The shops are open late tonight, we're going shopping for clothes. I'm turning you into a new man.'
'But I've already bought six coloured shirts!'
'We're taking things a step further.'
Saturday. Jack's birthday. She was taking him out, but this was not to be a birthday present. She still had a card in her handbag and if she thought the time appropriate, she would give it to him. But for the moment, this was just a day out.
He had said he didn't care to celebrate his birthday. She thought she knew why—birthdays meant other people making a fuss of you. And he liked to keep his distance from most people. Well, he did at the moment. But things were changing.
She had arranged to pick him up at his flat in the early afternoon. It was her treat so they'd go in her car. They were lucky with the weather. Although it was autumn, it was a glorious mild day. Just the kind of day for what she had in mind.
She had a surprise for him. They were going on a cruise up the River Weaver. She'd heard about it from another midwife who had said it was wonderful.
He came out of his flat in his new casual clothes, which they had bought together. Cord trousers, thin sweater, a leather jacket. He looked good enough to eat.
A quick kiss to say hello and they were on their way. 'Where are we going?' he asked.
'Told you. It's a surprise. Surprises are good for you.'
'Whatever you say. I'm in your hands.'
'We seem to have a lot in common. I think what I like you'll like.'
'You've already proved that. When you stayed the night.' She had to blush.
She felt warm and wonderful when she caught him looking at her in that appreciative way. And when they stopped at traffic lights, he stroked her hand. A small caress, but so welcome.
'When I first qualified as a midwife,' she told him, 'a gang of us went out together and we had a fantastic time. Well, I'm trying to recreate that feeling. Just a bit. Only it'll be more fun just the two of us instead of a couple of dozen.'
They drove out of town, over the great arched Runcorn bridge and down towards the motorway. Then she turned off across the greenness of the Cheshire plain. Eventually they came to a small town, and she navigated her way through it cautiously. 'I'm looking for a sign that shows the way to the marina,' she told him.
So far they had chatted happily but now he became quiet. 'Where are we going?' he asked. 'I need to know.'
Need to know? Seemed an odd thing to say, she thought. And his voice was different.
'A special not-birthday treat for you,' she said. 'A boat trip up the river.'
A very long pause. 'That's great. An interesting idea.'
She could tell that he was trying to hide his feelings but he wasn't succeeding. He wasn't happy. By now she was wondering. 'Jack, are you all right about going on the water? You won't get seasick you know.'
'Of course not, And of course I'm all right about the water. No problem.'
Her unease increased. She drove into the marina forecourt. There were rows of barges, an office, a small cafe. It all looked rather pleasant. But when he got out of the car Jack looked even less enthusiastic than he had sounded. In fact, there was a touch of whiteness on his cheeks.
'The scenery will be wonderful,' she said, aware that her voice was now slightly shrill. 'It's a nice time to come. There's a bar on board, we can have a drink as we travel. And there's a meal served when we're halfway there.'
'Sounds good.'
She wasn't having this. Something was wrong and she was determined to know what. They had decided. No secrets between them.
She took his hand, pulled him away from the car, round the back of the cafe where there was a bench they could sit on. It was secluded, no one could hear or see them. She took his hands, made him look at her. For once his expression was defensive.
'Jack, you mean a lot to me. I thought that we were getting together, that the old, distant Jack had gone. But I want to know and you're shutting me out. Jack, you owe me this. What's wrong?'
'It's a bit hard to talk about,' he said. 'I try to forget about it, but I'm not doing a good job today.'
It was the first time she had ever heard him sound uncertain. 'It's obvious that you don't want it so we'll forget the boat trip,' she said. 'We'll just walk along the river bank and you can—'
'No!' He pointed back the way they had come. 'We'll walk up a hill somewhere. Find a quiet bit of the Delamere Forest.'
'And we'll talk there?'
'If you wish,' he said.
She drove for a quarter of an hour in silence. From time to time she glanced at him but there was no way she could read his expression. So she felt fearful. It had been a brilliant idea. What had gone wrong? She clenched her teeth. Whatever it was, she could deal with it.
In time they found a deserted car park, a path ran from it up a hill. They started to walk. Very deliberately she took his hand, held it tight. He squeezed back. Well, that was a start.
At the top of the hill there was a tree trunk to sit on, a view over miles of the Cheshire plain. She remembered how he had liked the view from the top of the Penn
ines. This should suit him, too.
They sat side by side; she put her arm round his shoulders for a moment. 'Now, tell me,' she said.
'In fact, I was going to. Going to tell you today. Last Tuesday you told me all about yourself, and I wanted to do the same for you. I wanted to wait until my birthday and then we could laugh about things together.'
'You don't sound as if you're in a laughing mood.'
'Just the prospect of a trip by water put me off a little.' He took a deep breath. 'Miranda, remember I once told you that I'd been...entangled?'
'I remember it very well.'
'Well, it was the biggest mistake I've ever made or intend to make. I was more than entangled. I was married.'
This shocked her; she looked at him wide-eyed. 'I should have known that. Not that it makes any difference to us, but I should have been told.'
He took her hand. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart. Nobody else in the hospital knows except Toby and Carly and they know how I feel about it. How I want it kept secret.'
He sighed. 'I suppose that's why I'm not as...affable as I could be. I thought that if I kept people at a distance then I wouldn't get...entangled again.'
'You mean hurt. So tell me about it.'
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles abstractedly. 'Well, the comic bit first. My marriage came to an unfortunate end on a boat trip. On the Thames, in fact. And it was on my birthday.'
Miranda winced. 'And I thought that whatever I liked you'd like, too. Made a mess of things, didn't I?'
'You weren't to know. It was eight years ago today. I was a senior registrar in London, working on the neonatal unit and working all the hours that God sent. I'd just been offered a job here at the Dell Owen and I was looking forward to moving up to where I came from. I'd been married to Veronica for three years. She was a doctor, too, younger than me—in fact, she was still an SHO. Like a lot of medical people in those days, we were working so hard that we had a bit of a hurried wedding. Quick service, a few friends round, no honeymoon, straight back to work again.'
'I've been to a few of those,' Miranda said.
'Well, if I ever get married again, I want the full Monty. I want all my friends and family, a formal suit, a bride in a full-length white dress, a church with a choir and then a honeymoon. Miranda, a wedding should be something to celebrate!'
'I agree.' Miranda's voice was choked. She felt uneasy but she managed to hide her doubts. But there was one thing she had to ask. After a moment's silence, 'What did Veronica look like?'
'Very small, very slim, blonde hair. Always perfectly dressed, perfectly made-up. She wouldn't go out until she looked immaculate.'
'Right,' said Miranda. 'The opposite of me. So you're attracted to me because I'm a scruff?'
He smiled, leaned over to kiss her cheek. 'Among other reasons,' he said. 'Anyway, Veronica came from a wealthy family who lived in London. I'm not sure how she felt about moving out of. her posh house into my rather cramped little flat.'
Miranda felt that she'd have been more than happy to move into a hovel with Jack. But she said nothing.
Jack went on, 'I got this job at the Dell Owen. I was going to buy a biggish house and I thought we'd agreed to start a family. And I thought Veronica agreed. But we were both very busy and we didn't seem to see much of each other.
'Anyway, there was a big hospital party on a boat cruising up the Thames. There were a lot of parties like that. There was a bit of dancing, a lot of drinking. Veronica got drunk and she was making a bit of a show of herself, dancing with a consultant quite a bit older than her. I tried to tell her she was making a fool of herself. You know I hate scenes. But we had a big row on the boat. She screamed that she was leaving me, she apparently had been sleeping with the consultant for months. No way was she going up north. And the thought of having babies with me made her feel sick. I went to talk to the consultant and he must have thought I was going to kill him.'
Jack smiled bitterly. 'Not so. I was going to tell him that he could have Veronica with pleasure. And then—just to make things even more farcical—he jumped overboard. To get away from me. Imagine the gossip that caused. And I had to stay in the job for another three months.'
Jack stared up at the steel-blue sky for a moment. 'And since that time I've kept people at a distance. Kept my working life very separate from my private life. Until I met you.'
'What a birthday present I got you,' Miranda said forlornly. 'I couldn't have picked worse if I tried. Jack, I'm so sorry.'
His arm was already round her, he squeezed her and then kissed her. 'That boat goes regularly, doesn't it?' he asked. 'When's the next trip?'
'What?'
'We've told each other everything now. The past is behind us. And I always liked water. Let's go on the trip you promised me.'
'What...? But you'll feel...'
'I'll feel my past is dead and I'm with you,' he said. 'Now I have a future.'
'I think there's another trip in twenty minutes,' she said.
It was only a small operation, the repair of an inguinal hernia in a tiny boy. Some of his intestines protruded through the wall of his abdomen and would have to be eased back and the pouch they had made removed. Quite a simple operation. Miranda had worked an early shift that morning; this was the afternoon. Jack had said that if she wanted, she could observe again. Of course she wanted to observe. She loved the atmosphere in the theatre.
But this time was going to be different. After she had scrubbed up, Jack came over and said, 'A change of plan. You're going to be scrub nurse for me to get some training.'
'But what... ? But I... What about Charlotte?'
'Charlotte is going to sit by and watch. If need be, she'll correct you. But you're the official one in charge.'
'I don't know half as much as Charlotte!'
'I should hope not, she's been doing it for years. You'll be slower, you might get things wrong. But the surgeon in charge is/willing to make allowances.'
'I wonder why.'
So she was scrub nurse. And she thought she did.. .well, not brilliantly but adequately.
'You'll be good in time,' Jack told her afterwards, and she decided to take this as high praise.
She went home with him that night—these days she often did. And she cooked for him. Working in his kitchen was like being captain of a starship; there were so many knobs, controls, dials. But she learned. And she loved cooking there.
'That was a wonderful meal,' he said lazily after they had eaten. 'That beef stew and those baked vegetables were superb. Did you cook them or does that kitchen do them all for you?'
'That kitchen needs an expert cook like me!' She sniffed. 'And it wasn't a beef stew, it was a beef daube.'
'Sorry. What's the difference?'
'I'm not sure. Different pages of the cookery book.'
They were in his living room, sitting on the couch. He was sitting at one end with his legs stretched along its length and she was sitting between his legs, her back leaning against his chest. His arms were round her, his lips nuzzling her hair. She felt happy, complete.
'There's something I want to say to you,' he went on.
His voice appeared quite normal but he didn't speak for a while. So, sleepily, she said, 'What do you want to say to me, then?'
'I think that I love you.'
She tensed, twisted round in his arms to stare at him. 'What did you say?'
'I said I think that I love you. That's a bit feeble. I know I'm awkward at this kind of thing. For years I was used to keeping my emotions well hidden. You've taught me how to show them. You almost blackmailed me into showing them. But now I'm glad. And I think I'm sure I love you.' He looked faintly puzzled, as if surprised at what he had just said.
Miranda felt equally surprised. This was the last thing she had been expecting. She felt there ought to have been some kind of build-up to a declaration like this, some kind of indication as to the way he was thinking. Not just a statement out of the blue.
Q
uickly following this feeling came another. He loved her! He'd said so; it was the first time! And a joy she had never felt before rushed through her. He loved her! But the joy was quickly replaced by desolation.
She put a finger over his mouth. 'Don't say any more, Jack. Don't rush things. We agreed to take time to get to know each other, to take one day at a time.'
'I'm tired of taking one day at a time. I want to—'
'I know what you're going to say. But, Jack, remember! I can't have children.' Now the desolation was disappearing and in its place came a horror. She had been happy in her life with Jack, getting to know him, enjoying his company, sleeping with him. They had decided, for a while, to ignore the future. But now that future was here and it had to be dealt with.
'Jack, I tried not to let this happen. We can only have nowhere is no future for us. One stark fact. I can't have babies. And you need them.'
'I need you, Miranda! I can't imagine life without you now. Do you know how much I love you?'
She burst into tears. 'You can't,' she wept. 'Now what are we going to do?'
He pulled her head onto his shoulder, stroked her hair. 'We're going to carry on as we were before,' he said. 'We're going to get to know each other see as much of each other as we possibly can. So far in my life I've never put my happiness into the hands of someone else. But you I know I can trust.'
Then there came into his voice just a hint of the old, certain Jack. The man who was going to get his own way or there'd be trouble. 'Just two things different. One, now you know for certain that I love you. Two, we have a future together. Right?'
She managed a smile through the tears. 'Right, Jack,' she said.
If he was upset at not hearing that she loved him, he didn't show it. So she said nothing more. She couldn't raise his hopes.
It was to be a day of surprises. She was working on the ward when Jack grabbed her, kissed her quickly because no one was looking. 'Things are-changing,' he said. 'First of all, I'm going to Barcelona early tomorrow. Two days in a conference and then for ten days I'm going to work in a local hospital with a couple of Spanish surgeons. We've got ideas we want to exchange. But when I get back I'll need, and I'll be entitled to, a holiday. I want you to book some time off, five days should do. Little country girl, we'll fly to the metropolis and look at the sights. We'll go to London. Get away from constant work and pressure. And since we'll have plenty of time, we can think about our future.'
A Surgeon, A Midwife - A Family Page 11