The Doctor's Love-Child

by Barbara Hart

  ‘No, not with Patrick.’

  ‘One of the girls at the hospital, then?’ her mother enquired.

  Helen couldn’t bring herself to admit who her date was, knowing that her mother would strongly disapprove.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it later,’ she said.

  By the time she’d fed and bathed Robert and settled him in his cot, Helen was feeling the strain of the working day pressing down on her.

  She decided to treat herself to a relaxing bath. Pouring in the contents of a small bottle of aromatherapy liquid—a Christmas gift from an aunt—she slid under the delicious-smelling bubbles and enjoyed the very pleasant sensation of pampering herself in the bath’s restorative warmth.

  With her hair freshly washed and her skin tingling with scented cleanliness, she set about deciding what to wear for her dinner date with Andrew. She agonised over whether to wear a skirt or trousers or, as it was a warm evening, a dress. In the end she settled on what she considered was a smart but casual look—a round-necked black three-quarter sleeve dress and a black-and-grey summer jacket, both of which she’d recently bought in the sales at bargain prices. She looked good, she decided, her weariness and tension having floated away down the plughole with the bath water.

  When Andrew arrived she was already waiting at the door, having decided it would not be a good idea for him to meet up with her mother. Dorothy, as Helen had predicted, had expressed great disapproval of her going out with Andrew, muttering ominously, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing!’

  They drove out of the city, heading northeast up into the moorland that could be seen on a clear day from the centre of Milchester.

  ‘I’ve been recommended a great little place for us to go to tonight,’ he said. ‘It’s in the hills with lovely views. And the food’s pretty good, too.’

  ‘Who recommended it to you?’ asked Helen for no particular reason. She just wanted to chat at this stage in the evening about unimportant things.

  ‘One of the theatre sisters was telling me about it,’ he replied. ‘That attractive redhead, Margie Whittaker. Do you remember meeting her at the dance?’

  Helen remembered meeting her. She also remembered the way Patrick hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the woman!

  ‘Yes,’ said Helen. ‘I remember Margie.’

  Half an hour later they arrived, and she had to admit that Margie’s taste in pubs couldn’t be faulted. It had formerly been an old coaching inn and was in the most idyllic setting, with fine views across a large reservoir. Inside was a cheery bar and three very snug oak-beamed rooms divided by thick stone walls.

  They selected a table near one of the bow windows which had a magnificent view of the wooded reservoir with the hills behind it and the setting sun streaking blood-red across the water.

  Helen was suddenly transported back to her childhood.

  ‘I remember coming here once before,’ she said, the view bringing back the past in a flood of memory. ‘I’d been hillwalking with my father and we called in here for refreshments. He always planned our walks to include a pub with his favourite beer.’ Helen smiled at the recollection, but there was a tinge of sadness in her voice.

  ‘You spent a lot of leisure time with your father, didn’t you?’ remarked Andrew. ‘I envy you that. My father always seemed so wrapped up in his work, so conscientious about everything. He barely had time for family life at all.’

  He reached out and touched her hand, entwining her fingers in his. It was a comforting gesture but Helen realised she mustn’t read too much into it. They sat in companionable silence as they waited for their meal to arrive, gazing out of the window at the glorious view and the sunset. She’d forgotten how easy he was to be with. She’d been secretly worried that, after all the harsh words that had passed between them, they would have nothing to talk about that wasn’t going to be contentious. She was wrong. The time passed extremely pleasantly and before she knew it she was looking at the menu again, wondering if she had room for pudding.

  ‘I’ll just have coffee,’ she said eventually.

  ‘The same for me,’ Andrew told the waiter.

  When they were left on their own, Andrew broached the subject that had been on both their minds.

  ‘Chicago,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to tell you what happened?’

  Helen nodded.

  Andrew started. ‘I was working as an orthopaedic surgeon in a specialist hospital in the city,’ he said, folding his hands together and leaning on the table. ‘We used to get a lot of sports people coming to us with injuries, knees in particular—ACLs and patella injuries.’

  ‘Your speciality,’ added Helen.

  ‘Indeed. One of the patients on whom I operated had the usual ACL injury but unusually it was in both knees. I told the patient, who insisted on having both knees done at the same time, that rest was vital in order that the repair should be successful.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Helen, stirring milk into her coffee.

  ‘However,’ said Andrew, ‘the patient didn’t do as I’d instructed and as a result the operation wasn’t a success. I was sued for negligence to the tune of several million dollars.’

  ‘Good grief!’ she exclaimed. ‘I realise American courts award massive sums in damages but, even so, I would have thought that was a bit steep.’

  ‘The patient claimed that a very promising golfing career had been ruined. The claim took into account all the winnings that would have accumulated over the next few years.’

  ‘And would the patient have made a top professional golfer, do you think?’

  Andrew gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. ‘I very much doubt it. I was operating on a very mediocre player, I later discovered, one who had no chance of winning a title at club level let alone on the professional golf circuit.’

  ‘Was it very stressful for you?’ asked Helen, adding, ‘Silly question. Of course it must have been stressful. I can’t think of anything worse than being accused of medical negligence. I shudder at the very thought.’

  Andrew took a drink of his coffee then looked into the far distance before speaking.

  ‘Medical negligence, malpractice, misconduct…those were the things I dreaded above all else. It was what ruined my father’s life. He refused to fight it, imagining that because it was a false accusation everything would be all right in the end. But that’s not the way of the world…that’s not the way it works out in medicine. If you’re innocent of any wrong-doing you have to stand up and fight for your good name.’

  Andrew’s hands were clenched so tightly around his cup that his knuckles had turned white.

  ‘I’d forgotten about your father,’ Helen said quietly.

  ‘It was because of his experience that I felt so strongly about the false accusation against me. The Chicago hospital advised against fighting the claim. Our insurers will pay out, they said. They do it all the time. Just think of the bad publicity if you lose.’

  ‘That’s true enough,’ said Helen. ‘It could have ruined your career and—’

  ‘You can’t give in to blackmail!’ he stormed. Then, realising he’d raised his voice, he lowered it again. ‘Sorry, Helen, but you can’t go through life always taking the easy option. You have to fight for what you believe is right.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said.

  There was a pause.

  ‘I suppose that’s why you rushed off to Chicago like you did last year?’

  ‘That’s right,’ he confirmed. ‘My only regret was that I didn’t feel I could tell you about it at the time just in case…just in case I lost.’

  ‘You could have told me!’ Helen looked at him with accusing eyes. ‘I wish you had. I really do.’

  Andrew looked into the distance, his face an unreadable mask. How close to the truth she’d come. It was like having a knife turned in him. If only he’d told her at the time, perhaps she would be marrying him and not Patrick.

  ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing,’ he said. ‘At the ti
me I thought you were a young doctor on the verge of a brilliant career, so why should I risk involving you with my problems?’

  So, mused Helen, it was as Jane had surmised! Andrew had been acting honourably, not wanting to risk dragging her down with him.

  ‘Andrew,’ she said, feeling emotional, ‘I wish I’d known.’

  ‘You’re quiet,’ he said on the drive home. ‘Feeling OK?’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Just a little tired after a long day’s work.’

  ‘Don’t forget to thank Patrick for me, will you?’

  ‘Patrick?’

  He touched her hand fleetingly. ‘For allowing me to take out his fiancée.’

  Helen realised with a jolt that she hadn’t given one thought all evening to the man she was going to marry. ‘He’s very easygoing,’ she replied. ‘And very understanding.’

  ‘Sounds like Mr Wonderful,’ said Andrew.

  Was he being sarcastic? She couldn’t tell.

  She decided to take his remark at face value. ‘Yes, he is pretty wonderful,’ she said.

  ‘In that case, there was something else I wanted to mention to you,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy a trip to Norfolk? Do you think Patrick will be easygoing about that as well?’

  ‘Norfolk?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Do you remember me telling you that I owned a house down there?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, recalling a much earlier conversation. ‘In the village where you grew up. And I told you that I used to go sailing on the Broads with my father.’

  She sighed at the memory. ‘I love Norfolk.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Before I leave for the States, I’m planning on going down to sort out what I’m going to do with the house. I wondered if you’d like to come along for a couple of days?’

  Helen hesitated. Did she really want to spend a couple of days alone with him? The answer was a definite yes, but she also knew she would weaken and they’d probably end up in bed together again…just like Seattle. And what would that achieve? Only further heartache when he flitted off back to America.

  It was as if he’d read her thoughts. ‘You needn’t worry about my behaviour, if that’s what’s on your mind. I shall act like a perfect gentleman. I have no intention of trying to seduce a woman who’s in love with another man.’

  ‘Not like at the dance, then?’

  ‘Not like at the dance. That night, I was convinced you didn’t love Patrick. I now accept that you probably do.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You win some, you lose some!’

  He said it flippantly but it hurt him, nevertheless. Hurt him to admit that Helen didn’t love him, she loved Patrick. The more he saw her, the more he wanted her. She’d become a part of him—it was as if she acted as a major artery to his heart. But he now accepted that some things were never meant to be—and, barring a miracle, that seemed to be the case with him and Helen. But he was hopeful she’d come to Norfolk with him. It would be torture having her under the same roof and not touching her! However, he was an honourable man and intended to keep his word.

  Helen was desperately keen to go, but there was Robert to consider.

  ‘I’d like to come, of course,’ she said. ‘But I can’t really leave the baby with my mother for two whole days…’

  ‘Bring him along. You did say that I could see him whenever I wanted,’ said Andrew, grinning. ‘Well, I want to take him to Norfolk to show him his ancestral home!’

  CHAPTER TEN

  THEY set off early as it was a long drive from Milchester to Norfolk. The car boot was packed to overflowing with baby equipment and supplies, leaving space for little else.

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve taken him anywhere overnight,’ said Helen as she squeezed in yet another pack of disposable nappies between the portable cot and the folding buggy.

  ‘Mustn’t forget these,’ she said, pointing to the two doctors’ bags and their own overnight cases.

  ‘No room in the boot,’ said Andrew, placing them in the back of the car. ‘Now, you keep your eye on these,’ he said to Robert, who gurgled back at him.

  ‘Do you know,’ said Andrew settling himself into the driver’s seat, ‘I swear that child understands every word I say?’

  Helen fastened her seat belt. ‘If he does, it’s more than I do!’ she said, grinning widely.

  Starting up the engine, he grinned back at her. ‘I think the breakdowns in communication have been on both sides, Dr Blackburn. But we won’t risk spoiling our little excursion by dwelling on that now.’

  They stopped on the way for a picnic lunch and Helen fed and changed Robert. He then went to sleep as they continued their journey. After another hour’s driving the landscape changed and they were greeted by the distinctive Norfolk sight of summer fields ablaze with poppies.

  ‘I remember it so well!’ exclaimed Helen. ‘Dad and I used to come sailing here every summer—and although it’s years since I’ve been, it hasn’t changed a bit.’

  ‘It is a beautiful part of the country,’ said Andrew. ‘A beautiful part of the world. I’m glad you like it, too.’

  They drove into a particularly scenic village with a large green surrounded by pretty houses and cottages.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said, driving past a stone church and turning down a small lane.

  ‘Your house is in this village?’ asked Helen.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Andrew. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s absolutely heavenly,’ she said as he pulled up outside an attractive stone and flint house.

  ‘It may look heavenly,’ said Andrew grimly, ‘but as far as my father was concerned it was a living hell.’

  ‘Not the house, surely? Not this lovely house in this idyllic village?’

  ‘The house was fine,’ said Andrew, ‘but it was where he was living when all hell broke loose when he was falsely accused of misconduct. Instead of having the confidence to confront it head on, he just gave up and let the strain of it get to him. He was a virtual prisoner in the house, not daring to step outside in case people were talking about him or pointing at him.’

  ‘Is that why you want to sell it, because it has such bad memories for you?’

  ‘Partly. And I just wonder how much time I’ll be able to spend here in the future.’

  Andrew got out of the car and went around to her side, helping her out.

  Robert had started to stir. Helen picked him up and they walked up the small path to the house.

  ‘Is it all shut up?’ asked Helen, peering through one of the windows. She noticed dust-sheets over some of the furniture but apart from that it looked as if it was still lived in.

  ‘An elderly aunt who lives in the village keeps an eye on it for me. And a gardener comes once a week to mow the grass and tidy the flower-beds and that kind of thing.’

  He opened the front door and stepped inside. ‘Just checking there are no burglars or squatters,’ he said, before beckoning her in.

  They walked through into the kitchen, a lovely sunny room overlooking a pleasant little garden. On the table were a couple of supermarket bags and a note. Andrew picked it up and read it.

  ‘Good old Auntie,’ he said. ‘I told her we were coming up and she’s left everything ready for us. Food in the bags and in the fridge and the beds have been aired.’

  Helen walked around the house, holding Robert as she looked in each room.

  ‘This is where your daddy grew up,’ she told him, feeling as if she’d stepped back in time.

  Andrew came up the stairs with their bags. He put her bag and Robert’s cot in one room and his own bag in another.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ he asked when they were downstairs again.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Helen. ‘And then I’ll give Robert his bottle.’

  ‘May I do that?’ Andrew asked as he filled up the kettle with cold water from the tap.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Feed Robert. I’ve never given a baby a bottle before, but I’ve seen it done on te
levision!’ he joked.

  Helen made up the milk formula and handed the bottle to Andrew who was holding Robert on his knee. ‘You just have to make sure the milk fills the teat. Otherwise he’ll take in lots of air and give himself a tummyache.’

  She sat down opposite them and drank her tea. It was a moment she’d treasure, she told herself, watching Andrew feed his son. This was going to be a very special couple of days when, for possibly the only time in their lives, they would be like a real family…just the three of them under one roof, playing house.

  Later, when Robert had settled down after his feed, they put him in his buggy and pushed him out for a little walk in the sultry evening air.

  ‘Would you mind if we called in on my aunt some time?’ asked Andrew. ‘I phoned her yesterday and said that we might.’

  ‘Oh, you must,’ insisted Helen. ‘You wouldn’t have come all this way without seeing her, would you?’

  Andrew took the handle of the buggy from Helen. ‘Of course I would be calling in to see her. I just didn’t know if you wanted to get involved in the visit as well.’

  ‘I’d love to meet her,’ said Helen sincerely. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Isabel,’ said Andrew. ‘She’s my father’s sister and a leading light in the local church. I thought we’d call in now as she doesn’t live far away.’

  ‘Great,’ said Helen.

  ‘There’s only one thing,’ said Andrew cautiously. ‘Can we pretend that we’re married? You see, Auntie Isabel is very religious and wouldn’t approve of this.’ He waved his arms to take in all three of them.

  ‘Oh,’ said Helen in surprise. ‘So, what will you say? How will you introduce me?’

  ‘I won’t make a big thing of introductions,’ said Andrew. ‘In fact, I’ve already told her about you and Robert and she just jumped to the conclusion that we were married.’

  ‘But I’m not wearing a ring,’ said Helen. ‘Won’t she notice that?’

  ‘Just tell her you’re the modern type who doesn’t believe in wearing wedding rings.’ He cast her a roguish look. ‘Anyway, she’ll be so taken up with seeing her great-nephew that she probably won’t even notice a minor detail like a missing ring.’