Carrying the Single Dad's Baby

by Kate Hardy

  ‘That’s kind of you, but it would be greedy of me to eat here every Sunday,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘We can take turns. So we can come to you, next time,’ Iain answered, his eyes sparkling.

  How had this happened? Daniel wondered. Iain hardly knew Beatrice. Shouldn’t he be shy and hardly saying a word, instead of chattering away as if he’d known her for ever? This was just what he wanted to avoid: his son getting close to someone who probably wasn’t going to stick around.

  As if it was written all over his face, and Beatrice had noticed, she said gently, ‘That would be nice, because we’re friends, your dad and me. Just like he’s friends with Josh and Sam and Hayley at the hospital, because we all work together.’

  ‘Oh,’ Iain said, but he seemed to accept it.

  But, as Beatrice talked to Susan about art and Iain about school, she sparkled, and Daniel found himself spellbound by her.

  ‘The crumble’s excellent,’ Susan said. ‘So were your brownies—thank you for sending me one via Iain. So your parents have a café as well as an orchard?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Beatrice said.

  He already knew that her family was posh. He had a feeling there was more to it than a café, and he could she was sidestepping the issue.

  ‘My parents had a café in Glasgow,’ Susan said. ‘An ice cream café. My great-grandparents came to Glasgow from Italy, between the wars, and started the business. My grandparents and then my parents took over.’

  ‘So you have a brother or sister who runs it now?’

  ‘Cousin,’ Susan said. ‘I’m an only one—like Daniel. But I always wanted to do art. And there’s Daniel with medicine. And who knows what Iain will do?’

  ‘I’m going to be a footballer, Granny,’ Iain said, rolling his eyes. ‘And I’ll play for Scotland and England. And then I’m going to be an astronaut and go to the moon in a rocket.’

  She ruffled his hair. ‘You can do anything you put your mind to. I know you have a niece with a pony, Bea, so you’re not an only child.’

  ‘I’m the youngest of three,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘And your siblings, they’re involved in the café?’

  Susan steadfastly refused to meet Daniel’s gaze, so she completely ignored his mouthed, ‘Stop grilling her.’

  ‘They’re involved in the family business,’ Beatrice said with a smile. ‘We just get the odd scientist in a generation—I’m the one in ours. I take after our great-great-uncle. I was tiny when he died, and I always wish I’d had a chance to get to know him because he’s the one who built the telescope in the cupola.’

  Iain’s eyes went wide. ‘You’ve got a telescope?’

  ‘At my parents’.’ She nodded. ‘I used to spend hours watching the stars. If I hadn’t been a doctor, I might’ve been an astronaut.’

  ‘That’s what I want to be, after I’ve been a footballer,’ he said. ‘Can I show you my rocket Granny painted on my wall?’

  ‘Later,’ Daniel said.

  ‘Can I come and see your telescope?’ Iain asked.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Beatrice told him.

  ‘A telescope in a cupola,’ Susan said thoughtfully.

  Yes. Daniel had picked that up, too. An architectural feature that, on a family home, marked that family out as more than just ordinarily posh. He had a nasty feeling that his son’s original assessment of Beatrice Lindford might be right.

  ‘What’s a cupola?’ Iain asked.

  ‘It’s a dome on a roof,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘Like the big one on St Paul’s, the place where we whispered to each other from opposite sides and could hear each other?’ Daniel said.

  ‘Do your parents live in a church?’ Iain asked.

  Beatrice smiled. ‘No, sweetheart, they don’t.’

  ‘Well, it must be a really big house if it’s got a dome,’ Iain said. ‘Is it a castle? Because you talk like a princess and you’ve got long golden hair like the princess in the story.’

  Beatrice blew out a breath. ‘Yes, it’s a castle, but I’m not a princess.’

  Her family lived in a castle. So the chances were she had a title of some sort. Which put her even more out of his reach, Daniel thought. So much for the orchard and a café: they were clearly part of an estate. A café that perhaps meant her family home was a stately home open to the public?

  ‘Do you know the Queen? And Prince Harry?’

  ‘No.’

  Iain looked disappointed. ‘My mum likes Prince Harry.’

  ‘Everyone likes Prince Harry,’ Beatrice said with a smile. ‘Now, once we’ve had our tea and I’ve done my share of the washing up, can we play with your train set?’

  ‘Yay!’ Iain said.

  Daniel was still trying to process it when he helped them build the train track. She was a senior doctor. A woman who had a title. And yet here she was, playing trains on the floor with his son, looking as if she belonged. She’d made friends with his mother almost immediately. She’d wielded a dishcloth in his kitchen.

  He and Beatrice were worlds apart. They couldn’t possibly have a future.

  Or could they?

  * * *

  After Beatrice had left and he’d put Iain to bed, Susan made them both a cup of tea.

  ‘I like her,’ she said. ‘A lot.’

  ‘Don’t get ideas, Mum. We’ve been through this already. We’re colleagues. You heard her say it yourself.’

  ‘You don’t look at each other like colleagues.’

  ‘Our backgrounds are too diff—’ He stopped and grimaced. ‘That came out wrong. I wasn’t having a pop at you, Mum.’

  ‘I know. And you have a point. Her family home is a castle. She might not be a princess, but she can probably trace her ancestors all the way back to William the Conqueror—whereas you don’t even have your father’s name on your birth certificate and you come from working-class stock. But that doesn’t matter. I’m proud to be a Capaldi.’

  ‘So am I, Mum.’

  ‘And if that sort of thing does matter to her, then she doesn’t deserve you. Though I don’t think that sort of thing matters to her.’

  ‘We’re not dating, Mum,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Maybe you should. Jenny found happiness again. There’s no reason why you can’t, too.’

  Panic flooded through him. But what if it went wrong? ‘There’s Iain. He’s had enough disruption in his life. I’m not prepared to let anyone into his world, only for them to leave him high and dry.’

  ‘Iain adores Bea. And I like her, too. She might be from a posh family, but she’s down to earth. She’ll get on the floor and play trains with Iain, she’ll do baking with him and not mind about the mess, and she’s not a haughty mare who won’t even pick up a dishcloth—I think you’re troubling trouble before it troubles you, and that’s never a good thing.’ She folded her arms. ‘You like her.’

  He sighed. ‘Yes, I like her.’

  ‘Then do something about it. If you want to protect Iain—not that I think he needs protecting from Bea—then I’ll babysit and we don’t need to tell Iain where you’re going. See how things go.’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘It’s not as easy as that. She doesn’t want to get involved either. She’s focusing on her career.’

  ‘The way I’ve seen her with Iain today, she’s all about family. I think someone’s hurt her—as badly as you got hurt with Jenny.’ She put both hands up in a stop gesture. ‘I’m not blaming Jenny for anything. I know she was ill. But both of you came out of that marriage with scars. All credit to the pair of you that you never let Iain be aware of them.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Daniel sighed. ‘I think Beatrice and I will just be colleagues. Maybe friends.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Susan said.

  ‘Really, Mum. I can’t take that risk. For Iain’s sake.’

  ‘I
think,’ Susan said, ‘you’re scared and you’re hiding behind your son.’

  He couldn’t argue with her, because he knew she was right. ‘I’m not ready,’ he said.

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘I don’t think she’ll hurt you. There’s something about her. An inner strength.’

  ‘Maybe.’ But he was pretty sure that Beatrice had been hurt, too. And he hadn’t been a good enough support to Jenny. He’d let her down. What was to say he wouldn’t let Beatrice down, too, if things went wrong?

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘I’M SORRY ABOUT the grilling,’ Daniel said when he saw Beatrice in the staff kitchen the next morning.

  ‘No problem.’ She smiled at him. ‘I liked your mum.’

  ‘Thanks. She liked you, too.’

  The fact that both Daniel’s son and Daniel’s mum liked her was a really positive thing; but she couldn’t let herself think that this thing between her and Daniel could have a future. He, Jenny and Iain had had a rough time with Jenny’s postnatal depression; Daniel didn’t need to risk a repeat of all that with another woman who’d suffered badly with depression. So she needed to get her head back in the right place and not let herself dream of what might have been. It wasn’t going to happen. The only thing they could offer each other was friendship—and that would have to be enough.

  ‘Iain hasn’t stopped talking about your telescope.’

  ‘I’ll sort something out so he can come and see it.’ Which was being kind to a small child; it had nothing to do with arranging to spend more time with Daniel.

  ‘Won’t your family...?’ He looked awkward.

  ‘Mind? No. It’s fine. Anyway, I guess we need to get on. Patients to see,’ she said brightly.

  She knew she was being a coward and avoiding him. But she managed to get herself back under enough control during the morning so that for the rest of the week she treated him exactly the same way she treated Josh and Sam and the rest of the team. As a colleague who was becoming a friend, now she’d settled in to her new job. Repeating silently to herself that he was her colleague and nothing but her colleague seemed to be working.

  Until Thursday afternoon, when they were both rostered to Resus and she answered a call from the paramedics.

  ‘Hello, Resus. Beatrice speaking.’

  ‘Beatrice, it’s Dev Kapoor. We’re at an RTC.’

  Road traffic collision. That covered a whole range of cases; but, given that he was calling in, it clearly was a more serious one. ‘OK. What have you got for us?’

  ‘A guy who may or may not have whiplash and a bump to the head. We’re getting another crew out to him, because I’m less worried about him than the other patient: a pregnant woman who’s bruised and panicking.’

  Beatrice went still. She’d been here before. Nearly five years ago. Except she’d been the one needing the ambulance, not the one on the team treating the patient. With an effort, she got herself back under control and managed to keep her voice steady as she asked, ‘How far along is her pregnancy?’

  ‘Twenty-eight weeks,’ Dev said.

  Oh, God. Twenty-eight weeks. The same as her own had been. But she couldn’t afford to think about that now. She needed to compartmentalise it and put her patient’s needs first. ‘Have you examined her?’

  ‘Yes. Her uterus is woody, and I can’t feel the baby. I’m thinking possible abruption. I’ve put a line in and put her on oxygen.’

  ‘Good call. I’ll talk to the maternity unit and get them on standby. Thanks, Dev. See you when you get here.’

  ‘ETA about ten minutes,’ he said.

  Everything he’d described sounded like the classic symptoms of placental abruption. A tear in the placenta that pulled it away from the uterine wall. Such a little, little thing.

  And it had ripped her life apart.

  She took a deep breath. Not now. She needed to get the right specialist support. Support that would hopefully mean this poor woman wouldn’t have to go through the same nightmare that Beatrice had struggled through, nearly five years ago.

  She called up to the maternity unit. ‘Hi, it’s Beatrice Lindford from the Emergency Department. Are any of the consultants available? I’ve got a mum coming in with a suspected abruption.’

  ‘I think I saw Alex Morgan go past a few seconds ago—hang on and I’ll try and find him for you,’ the midwife who’d answered the phone said.

  It felt like for ever, but finally the phone was picked up again.

  ‘Alex Morgan speaking. How can I help?’

  ‘Alex, it’s Beatrice from the Emergency Department. I’ve got a mum coming in with a suspected abruption. She’s twenty-eight weeks. Her uterus is woody and the paramedics can’t feel the baby. They’re bringing her in now; she’ll be here in the next ten minutes. I don’t know how big the abruption is—whether we’ll need to just admit her for monitoring, or whether we’ll need to deliver the baby early and get the neonatal special care team involved.’

  ‘I’ll call the neonatal team and get them on standby, and I’ll come down,’ Alex said.

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’ She turned to Daniel and filled him in on the situation.

  ‘I’ll get the portable scanner,’ Daniel said.

  ‘And a Doppler, please,’ Beatrice added.

  A few minutes later, Dev came in with their patient on a trolley. ‘Jessica Rutherford, aged thirty,’ he said, and talked them both through the treatment he’d given Jessica on the way.

  Jessica was white-faced and clearly panicking.

  Beatrice knew how that felt, but strove to push it behind her. Jessica needed help, and her own emotions just weren’t necessary right now. The Lindfords had always managed to keep a stiff upper lip; she was going to follow the family line rather than following her counsellor’s advice to talk it through. There was a time and a place.

  ‘Hello, Jessica. I’m Beatrice Lindford and this is Daniel Capaldi, and we’re going to be looking after you this afternoon. I’ve got someone from the maternity team coming down to see you, too. Can you tell us what happened?’ she asked.

  Jessica took the oxygen mask off so she could talk. ‘There was a guy on a motorcycle driving behind me, weaving from side to side and getting a bit too close to me.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘When he finally overtook me, he was still weaving from side to side—I don’t think he was drunk, more like he was young and showing off. I kept my distance, because I had a funny feeling about it, but then he tried to overtake the car in front, misjudged it and had to brake suddenly. I managed to brake and stop before I hit him, but the car behind me didn’t stop in time.’

  Beatrice knew what that felt like, the shock of a car crashing into you when you were stationary. Again, she pushed the thought away. Not now. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been through something so scary. Can you tell us how you’re feeling, Jessica—any pain anywhere, anything that doesn’t feel quite right?’

  ‘My back hurts, but I don’t care about that. It’s the baby,’ Jessica said, the pitch of her voice rising with anxiety. ‘I haven’t felt him move properly but I don’t know if it’s because I’m panicking because the guy in the ambulance said he couldn’t feel it, or if, if...’ She choked on the words.

  If her baby hadn’t made it.

  Beatrice squeezed her hand. ‘You’re here and we’re going to help. Anything else?’

  ‘My bump. It feels tender, like—like a bruise, I guess.’

  Beatrice could also see tell-tale bleeding on Jessica’s jeans: another likely symptom of an abruption. Jessica didn’t appear to be going into shock, so hopefully it was a small abruption rather than a very serious one. Especially as Alex still hadn’t arrived from the maternity department. Something had clearly held him up; she really hoped he’d manage to deal with it and get here in the next couple of minutes, or send someone else in his place. ‘Daniel, can you get someone to chas
e Alex up?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure,’ he said.

  ‘Jessica, I’d like to examine your bump and give you a scan to see what’s going on with the baby, if that’s all right?’

  Jessica’s brown eyes were wide with worry. ‘Is my baby going to be OK? The paramedics couldn’t feel him and he’s not moving.’

  ‘You’re in pain and your uterus will feel hard in this sort of situation, so it’s difficult for them to feel the baby, and as you said you’re worried sick so you’re thinking the worst,’ Beatrice reassured her. ‘Let me put the Doppler on—it’s a machine that uses sound to pick up your baby’s heartbeat and it doesn’t hurt. Would you mind pushing your top up for me and pushing the top of your jeans down so I can check the baby’s heartbeat? And then I’d like you to put the oxygen mask back on for me.’

  Jessica did as she asked, and Beatrice checked for the heartbeat. Please let it be there. Please don’t let this be like what happened to me.

  She only realised that she was holding her breath when they heard a nice, steady clop-clop: the baby’s heartbeat.

  ‘That’s sounding good—a nice, steady heartbeat,’ she said, smiling at Jessica. ‘Did the paramedics call anyone for you?’

  Jessica pulled her oxygen mask to one side again. ‘Yes. My husband’s coming in.’

  ‘Good. I can see there’s some blood on your jeans,’ Beatrice said, ‘but that could be for several reasons, so don’t assume the worst. I’m going to do a scan first, and then we’ll be able to see if we need to do an internal exam. The scan is identical to the one you had for your dating scan and your twenty-week scan, so you know what to expect. I’m afraid our gel tends to be a bit cold because we don’t have all those huge scanners in the room to warm everything up, but it’s not going to hurt. If anything does hurt, I want you to tell me straight away, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ Jessica said, still looking worried, but the high-pitched edge of panic in her voice had gone.

  Daniel came back over. ‘Alex has been held up, but someone from the unit will be with us as soon as they can.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Can you do the gel for me?’