Christmas with the Single Dad

by Louisa Heaton

  He waited for her to sit and then he looked her over. A little pale, though her cheeks were flushed. Her pulse was probably elevated. Her blood pressure rising. What had made her so anxious? He was intrigued. But he’d learnt a valuable trick as a doctor. Silence was a wonderful tool. People would feel compelled to fill it. They’d start talking. Eventually.

  So he waited, noting how white her knuckles were as they clutched the bag upon her lap.

  And he waited.

  She was looking at anything but him. Checking out the room as if it were new to her before she finally allowed herself to glance at his face. Her cheeks reddened in the most delightful way, and she was biting her bottom lip as she finally made eye contact.

  ‘I need some sleeping pills. Dr Preston told me to come again if I needed a repeat.’

  Ah. There we go!

  ‘You’re not sleeping well?’

  Her cheeks reddened some more, and again she averted her eyes. ‘Not really. Look, I’m needed back at work, so if you could just write me a prescription? I don’t want to keep my clients waiting.’

  Nathan Jones sat back in his swivel chair and appraised her. He was curious as to why she needed them. ‘Sleeping pills are really a last resort. I’ll need a few details from you first of all.’

  The flash of alarm in her eyes was startling to observe. And if she twisted the strap of her handbag any more it would soon snap.

  Sydney shook her head. ‘I don’t have long.’

  ‘Neither do I. So let’s crack on, shall we? Eight minutes per patient can go by in the blink of an eye.’ He was trying to keep it loose. Casual. Non-threatening. This woman was as taut as a whip.

  She let out an impatient breath. ‘What do you need to know?’

  ‘Tell me about your sleep routine.’

  Does your husband snore? Does he toss and turn all night, keeping you awake? Wait... What the...?

  Why was he worrying about whether she had a husband or not? He wasn’t looking to go out with this woman. She was a patient! At least for now. He had no doubt that the second she bolted from his consulting room she would make sure she never had to see him again!

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Is it regular?’

  ‘I work long days at the veterinary surgery across the road from here. I’m the only vet there, so I’m on call most nights, and since the new homes got built I’ve been busier than ever.’

  ‘So you get called out a lot?’

  ‘I do.’

  He nodded and scribbled a note. ‘And are you finding it difficult to drop off to sleep?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Worried about your beeper going off? Or is it something else?’

  She looked at him directly now. ‘Look, Dr Preston has given me the pills before. I’m sure he won’t mind if you give me some more.’

  She didn’t like him prying. He glanced at her records, his eyes scanning the previous note. Yes, she was correct. She’d been given sleeping pills by Dr Preston this time last year...

  ‘...due to the sudden death of the patient’s daughter three years ago, patient requested tranquillisers...’

  He felt a lump of cold dread settle in his stomach as he read the notes fully.

  She’d lost her child. Sydney Harper had lost her daughter and she couldn’t sleep when the anniversary of her death got close. It happened every year. Oh, heavens.

  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, mentally apologising.

  ‘I...er...yes. I can see that in your notes.’

  How terrible. The most awful thing that could ever happen to a parent. And it had happened to her and he was trying to poke around in her despair when it was clear in her notes why she needed the pills. But would he be being a good doctor just to give them to her? Or would he be a better doctor if he tried to stop her needing them? They could be addictive...

  ‘I’m sure he won’t mind if you give me some more tablets.’

  Nathan had a daughter. Anna. She was six years old and she was all he had in this world. He couldn’t imagine losing her. She was everything to him right now. What this poor woman had been through...! No wonder she looked the way she did.

  ‘I can write you a prescription, but...’ He paused. ‘Have you ever been offered counselling?’

  She looked directly at him, her demeanour suggesting she was about to explain something to a child. ‘I was. And I did go to start with. But it didn’t help me so I stopped going.’

  ‘Perhaps you weren’t ready for it then. Would you be interested in trying it again now? It might help you with this sleeping issue. I could arrange it for you.’

  The computer whirred out the prescription and he grabbed it from the printer and passed it over to her.

  ‘Counselling is not for me. I don’t...talk...about what happened.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the problem?’ The words were out before he could censor them. He bit his lip with annoyance. Too late to take the words back. He needed to cover their crassness. And quickly. ‘Have you tried a different night-time routine? Warm milk? A bath? That kind of thing?’

  But she’d stood up, was staring down at him, barely controlling the anger he could see brewing behind her eyes. ‘Are you a father, Dr Jones?’

  He nodded solemnly, picturing his daughter’s happy, smiling face. ‘I am.’

  ‘Have you ever experienced the loss of a child?’

  He could see where she was going with this, and felt horrible inside. He looked away. ‘No. Thankfully.’

  ‘Then don’t tell me that warm milk—’ she almost spat the words ‘—will make me better.’ She spun on her heel and when she got to the door, her hand on the handle, she paused, her head low, then glanced over her shoulder, her teeth gritted. ‘Thank you for my prescription.’

  Then she left.

  He felt as if a hurricane had blown through the room.

  He felt winded. Stunned. He had to get up and pace, sucking in a lungful of air, running both hands through his hair before he stood and stared out of the window at the sparrows and starlings trying to take food from the frozen feeders hanging outside. The smaller birds were carefully picking at the peanuts, whereas the starlings were tossing white breadcrumbs everywhere, making a mess.

  No, he had not experienced the same pain that Sydney had gone through. He would never want to. But he did know what it felt like to realise that your life had changed for evermore.

  People dealt with tragedies in different ways. Some found comfort in food. Some in drink or drugs. Some kept it all inside. Others found it easy to talk out their feelings and frustrations. A few would blindly choose to ignore it and pretend it had never happened.

  He felt deflated now that she’d left his room. Sydney Harper was intense—yes—and hurting—definitely—but there was something about her. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

  It bothered him all day. Through seeing all his patients. The chest infection, the sprained ankle, a case of chicken pox, talking someone through using his asthma medication. His thoughts kept returning to his first patient at his new job.

  Sydney Harper.

  Beautiful. Elegant.

  Fragile.

  And then it came to him. The reason why he couldn’t forget her. The reason he kept going over and over their interaction that morning.

  I’m attracted to her.

  The thought stopped him in his tracks. No. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—be. He had nothing to offer her. Besides, he had a child to take care of. Clearly!

  No. That way danger lay.

  He doubted he would ever see her again. Not as his patient. She had clearly wanted to see Dr Preston, and the way she’d stormed from the room had left him feeling a little bit stunned. He’d never had a patient walk out on him like that.

  A fi
ancée, yes.

  The mother of his child, yes.

  But never a patient.

  * * *

  Sydney strode from the room feeling mightily irritated with Dr Jones, but not knowing why. Because she had the prescription she needed. She’d obtained what she’d wanted when she’d made the appointment. But now that she was out from under Dr Jones’s interested, unsettling gaze she felt restless and antsy. Almost angry. As if she needed to go running for a few miles to get all of that uncomfortable adrenaline out of her system. As if she needed to burn off some of the inner turmoil she was feeling. As if she needed to let out a giant enraged scream.

  Averting her gaze from the people in the waiting room, she went straight back to Reception and leant over the counter towards Beattie the recetptionist—the owner of a moggy called Snuggles.

  ‘Beattie, I’ve just been seen by Dr Jones. Could you make a note on my records that when I make an appointment to see Dr Preston—my actual doctor—that I should, indeed, see Dr Preston?’

  Beattie looked up at her in surprise. ‘You didn’t like Dr Jones?’

  Her jaw almost hit the floor.

  ‘Like him? Liking him has nothing to do with it. Dr Preston is my GP and that is who I want to see when I phone to make an appointment!’

  Beattie gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, Syd. Dr Jones offered to see you as Dr Preston was overrun and he knew you were in a rush to get back to work.’

  Oh. Right. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Well, that was very kind of him, but...’

  It had been very kind of him, hadn’t it? And what was she doing out here complaining? Even though she’d got what she needed.

  Deflating slightly, she relaxed her tensed shoulders. ‘Next time just book me in with Richard.’

  ‘Will do. Anything else I can help you with?’

  Not really. Though a niggling thought had entered her head... ‘This Dr Jones that I saw today... Just a locum, is he? Just here for the day?’

  She tried to make it sound casual. But it would be nice to know that she wouldn’t be bumping into him in the village unless she had to. Not after she’d stormed out like that. That wasn’t her normal behaviour. But something about the man had irritated her, and then he’d made that crass suggestion about warm milk...

  ‘No, no. He’s permanent.’ Beattie’s face filled with a huge grin. ‘He moved to the village a week ago with his daughter. Into one of the homes on the new estate.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Thank you.’

  Permanent. Dr Jones would be living here. In Silverdale.

  ‘Please don’t tell me he’s got an aging pet dog or anything?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But you’ll run into him at the committee meetings for the Christmas market and the village nativity.’

  What? She’d only just decided to return to those meetings. Had been looking forward to them!

  ‘Why?’

  Beattie looked at her oddly. ‘Dr Preston is cutting down on his commitments now that he’s nearly retired. He’s asked Nathan to take over. You didn’t like him? We all think he’s gorgeous! Have you seen him smile? I tell you, that man’s a heartbreaker!’

  A heartbreaker? Not if she had anything to do with it.

  Sydney grimaced, but thanked Beattie once again and left the surgery, pausing to wait for traffic to rush by so she could cross the road over to her own practice.

  The new doctor was going to be on the Christmas committee. And she’d just agreed to go back. To help. She’d told them she would be there. Her heart sank at the thought of it as she neared her place of work.

  Silverdale Veterinary Surgery was a relatively small building, comprised of two old cottages that had been knocked through inside and transformed from homes into a business.

  Sydney loved it. It was clinical and businesslike, but still retained its old-world charm with white walls and large exposed oak beams and, outside, a thatched roof. There were even window boxes, which she’d learnt to tend. They overflowed with primulas and pansies in the spring, but right now were hung with dark green ivy and indigo lobelia. And no fairy lights. Even if everyone else seemed to think it was okay to start decorating for Christmas in November!

  She’d never been a green-fingered person. Not before she’d got married. But when Olivia came along the little girl had loved being in the garden and growing pretty things. Although Sydney had managed to kill the first few plants they’d got, they’d eventually learned together and their flowers had begun to thrive. There’d been nothing she’d liked better than to watch Olivia use her pink tin watering can to water them each evening, when it was cool. And Syd’s talent with flowers had not gone unnoticed around the village either. She’d often been in charge of the flower stalls at the Christmas market each year.

  When she’d been involved, anyway.

  She pushed through the door and saw that her waiting room was pleasingly busy. There was Mr Shepherd, as expected, with his Great Dane, Sara with her new kitten, and no doubt in the box by Janet’s feet were her two ferrets, Apollo and Zeus.

  ‘Morning, everyone! Sorry to keep you waiting.’

  Her anxiety was gone here. This was her home turf. Her safe haven. The place that she controlled. Was in charge of. Where there were no surprises. Well, nothing life-changing, anyway. Not to her. Here she could cure illnesses. Make things better. As much as she could.

  Her clients waved and smiled and said good morning, too. They weren’t too bothered about waiting for her. And she appreciated them for that.

  In the staff room, she put on her green veterinary top and prepared to start work.

  This was better.

  This she could do.

  This she was in control of.

  * * *

  Nathan stood in the playground, surrounded mostly by mothers waiting for their children to come out of infant school. As always, he felt like a complete fish out of water here. All the mothers stood in little groups, chatting and laughing. They all knew each other. And him...? He was the lone male, feeling awkward. Sure that he was standing out like a sore thumb.

  He could feel their eyes on him. Judging him. Assessing him. Were they talking about him? Could they see his awkward gait? His limp? Could they see what was wrong with him? It feels like they can. He almost felt as if he was carrying a huge sign naming his condition around his neck.

  Silverdale Infants had seemed the perfect place for Anna when he’d first come to the village for his job interview. He’d scouted the place out and asked the headteacher to give him a tour. He’d walked through the school with her, looking in the classrooms, seeing the happy children and their paintings, listening to them singing in assembly and watching as they’d sat for storytime in their impossibly small chairs. He’d genuinely felt his daughter would be happy there. It had a good vibe. The head was a nice woman and Miss Howarth, Anna’s teacher-to-be, seemed really lovely and welcoming.

  Nathan had just had his first day in his new job and this had been Anna’s first day at her new school. He could only hope that it had gone as well as his own day, and that she would come running out with a big smile on her face. Then, perhaps, the lump of anxiety in his stomach would disappear and they’d be able to go home and he’d cook dinner.

  Nathan hated being away from Anna. Giving her into the care of someone else. But he had to work and she had to learn—and weren’t schools considered in loco parentis?

  He was grateful for the flexible hours his new job afforded him. Since Gwyneth had left them he’d had to become both father and mother to Anna. And he didn’t think he was doing too badly. Anna seemed happy enough, only occasionally asking why she didn’t have a mummy, like other children. Those days were hard. When he could see the hurt in his daughter’s eyes. And when it happened he would curse Gwyneth inwardly, whilst outwardly he would throw everything he had at mak
ing his daughter happy.

  He just couldn’t give her the mother that she wanted. He wasn’t ready to be with someone new. To open himself up to possible hurt and betrayal. To being left again. And why put Anna through the hope of getting to know someone when they might walk away and break her heart, too?

  He didn’t bad-mouth Gwyneth to Anna. It wasn’t up to him to tell Anna how to feel about her mother. Anna might want to find her one day and see her. Talk to her. Ask her things. Did he want Anna to grow up resentful and hating her mother? No. Even if it was hard for him. Because Gwyneth had abandoned them both. And that hurt. Not so much now, but it still caused pain whenever he thought about his and Anna’s future.

  He sighed as he thought about his mistake in getting involved with Gwyneth. She’d been so much fun to begin with, but—as was sometimes the way with relationships—they’d both realised something was missing. And then they’d discovered she was pregnant...

  Life was short. And he would not have Anna spending hers moping about for a mother who had no interest in her whatsoever. He was only sorry that he hadn’t noticed Gwyneth’s shallowness earlier on. Before he’d got in too deep.

  The school bell rang and he braced himself. Now he’d know. Had it gone well?

  Crossing his fingers in his jacket pockets, trying not to shiver in the late November cold, he looked for her familiar face amongst the mass of children pouring out through the door, all of them almost identical in their little green jumpers and grey skirts or trousers.

  Then he saw her and his heart lifted.

  ‘Daddy!’

  She was smiling. Beaming at him as she ran to his open arms, clutching a painting that was still slightly wet. Nathan scooped her up, hefting her onto his hip, trying not to grimace at the pain in his shoulder.

  ‘What do we have here?’ He glanced at the painting. There were daubs of brown and green that he guessed was a tree, and to one side was a large black blob with ears. ‘Is that Lottie?’

  Anna nodded, grinning, showing the gap where her two front teeth were missing. ‘Yes!’

  Lottie was their pet rabbit and his one concession to Anna’s demands to fill their house with pets of all shapes and sizes. Anna adored animals, and ever since she’d started at nursery had plagued him with requests for cats or dogs or parrots or anything that had fur, feathers or a cute face.