The Doctor's Baby Surprise - An Accent Amour Medical Romance

by Gill Sanderson

  The work of the clinic had to go on. But the knowledge of the death seemed to hang heavy over the building. The staff carried on with their work, smiled, and joked when it was necessary. But voices seemed a little muted.

  Annie drove back to her flat. She felt tired. She had the usual bath and then sat on the couch with the usual hot drink. The living room was spotless; she thought of yesterday’s orgy of cleaning and smiled wearily. How to deal with an excess of emotion? Clean everything. She was too tired to clean anything now.

  It was Caroline’s death that was hurting her. She’d been through this before. She was a doctor; she had to tread that thin line between feeling and detachment. It was right and proper to feel sympathy for your patients. It made you a better doctor. But you could not share in all their grief. There were so many patients, so much pain, distress, and death. You had to accept that, do what you could but be well aware that you could not do too much. Still, it was hard. Especially when it was a child who died.

  Then she realised. She was thinking of the new baby in her life. She was thinking of Charlie—and Toby. And somehow Charlie had connected with Caroline. He was a baby, he was vulnerable. He too could…

  She’d left the ward in a hurry. It might have been better if she’d gone with a couple of the nurses to the Red Lion. She needed someone to talk to, to share her feelings with.

  Toby would be ideal.

  They weren’t to meet again until late this evening when she went round to his flat. He was going to take Charlie to see Carly. But Annie wanted to be with him now. He wouldn’t have set off for Carly’s yet, so she could phone him for a chat. She picked up her phone, put it down. Let him have some peace. Then she picked up the phone and rang his number. She was doing something for him. He could do something for her. All she wanted was a friendly couple of words.

  ‘Annie, good to hear from you. How’s things?’ His voice was warm and friendly; he seemed genuinely pleased that she had called.

  ‘Everything’s fine. I just wondered how you got on today.’

  She had tried to keep her voice cheerful but evidently she hadn’t succeeded. She could hear the concern in his voice when he asked, ‘Is everything all right, Annie? You sound a bit… unhappy? You know, if you’re having second thoughts about our arrangement I—’

  ‘It’s not that. I want to look after Charlie. It’s just that I did my stint on Nightingale Ward and Caroline…’ Her voice trailed away.

  He knew at once. ‘She died. I’m sorry. We’ve been expecting it, Annie, but it’s always a shock.’ He was silent a minute and then went on. ‘It’s a terrible thing to say but I feel more understanding now I have my own child. I really didn’t know what I was talking about before.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she said.

  He was silent again. Then, ‘It happens,’ he said. ‘We’re taught to distance ourselves when we see people ill or dying. We’re taught to be sympathetic but not get too involved. And mostly we manage that. But every now and again a case comes along where it just doesn’t work. You know it’s foolish to feel but you just do. Is that the way you feel about Caroline?’

  ‘That’s the way,’ she said, grateful that Toby understood exactly how she was feeling. How well he seemed to know her…

  ‘Look, Annie, Charlie and I are going round to Carly’s tonight. I didn’t invite you because, well, you’re doing so much for us already. I thought you might need time to yourself. But you know Carly would be delighted to see you. And so would I.’

  ‘No, Toby, I can’t do that. You go and—’

  ‘Can you hear that knocking at your front door?’ he interrupted.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Well, it’s Charlie and me. Or if it isn’t, it will be in about fifteen minutes.’

  He arrived with Charlie in exactly fifteen minutes. She let him in without speaking and then moved back to her couch and just sat there.

  He seemed to divine her mood. He said nothing himself, just made her a mug of tea. They sat side by side on her couch, drinking tea.

  After a moment, with a gentle hand he started to stroke her hair.

  ‘Toby…’ She tried to move her head away.

  ‘I’ll stop if you want.’ He didn’t stop and she said nothing. And after a while she found it soothing. Her breathing calmed back to normal. She took a tissue from her desk, wiped her tears, blew her nose. Then, still silently, she fetched them both some more tea and offered him one of her biscuits.

  He didn’t say anything, for which she was glad. Just the gentle regular stroking of her hair.

  In their short affair they had been many things to each other. Their passion had blazed and then been extinguished. They had become friends and now she had agreed—in the weirdest way—to become a foster parent to his child. But there had never been occasion for him to be kind, to be comforting to her. She had not realised just how good at it he was. She drank more tea, sat up straight. ‘I’m better now,’ she said.

  He stroked her hair for a moment longer then took her hand, held it between his two. His grip was warm, and again comforting.

  Suddenly it struck her. Toby was comforting her, and yet his home circumstances were much worse than hers. He had suddenly become guardian of a child he’d known nothing about, after a truly awful marriage. And his mother was very ill—in fact, dying of brain-stem cancer.

  ‘How can you be so nice to me when things at home for you are so much worse?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘You get used to anything in time.’

  ‘Do you?’

  His answer took quite a long time, and when eventually he spoke it, his voice was bleak. ‘No.’ he said. Then he shook his head. ‘That wasn’t very helpful, was it?’ he asked. ‘Annie, Caroline’s death has upset you, but at least you’ll come to accept it in time. And I think the state you’re in is a bit to do with me. The past few days have been fraught for you. You’ve helped me so much that I’ll never be able to repay you. Now I don’t think you should be on your own this evening. So you will come to Carly’s with me, won’t you?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ she said. And she realised she meant it.

  After that she felt a bit better. They chatted about anything but missed out medicine and families and their own relationship. Afterwards she couldn’t remember a single thing that had been said. Occasionally there was a small shock of realization that she was sitting here with Toby in her flat, talking inconsequentially, just as if he were an ordinary friend. Next door was the bedroom where they had… And in that room, at the moment, was his child. Not her child, not their child, his child. At times it was a thought that was hard to bear.

  But she was almost starting to feel better. And then, without knowing why, she found herself in tears again. Why?

  ‘The hurt comes round time and time again doesn’t it?’ he asked gently. ‘You think it’s gone, you think you’ve conquered it, but then it springs up back.’

  ‘Something like that,’ she choked. She wondered if he knew that the pain she was feeling had two causes. One was the death of Caroline, the other was himself.

  ‘You must be patient.’ They were sitting side by side on his couch. He slid his arm round her neck, pulled her head down onto his shoulder. ‘Just relax,’ he said. ‘Emotion makes you tired.’

  So she half sat, half lay with her head on his shoulder and they said nothing for a while. And slowly she grew calmer. For a while anyway she was with Toby. Being comforted and reassured in his arms. And that was the only place she wanted to be right now.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Toby drove into the parking space at the back of his flat, pulled in next to Annie’s car. He switched off lights and engine and for a moment sat without moving. He could see light shining through the curtains of his flat. His flat. It seemed odd.

  He had been to sit with his mother, just for an hour or so, and now it was as if he was a married man coming home to his wife and family. Annie had now moved in, bringing with her a bag of clothes, her books, other things she
knew she’d need. She was keeping on her own flat but this was going to be more than a quick stay. He shook his head. He had never envisaged anything like this ever happening to him.

  He let himself in. There were delicious cooking smells coming from the kitchen, he could hear Annie opening the fridge door, clattering pans. And in the comer of the living room his son, playing in his playpen. He went over to look.

  ‘All well?’ he called to Annie.

  ‘Everything is fine,’ she called back. ‘Charlie’s had a bottle and we’ll eat in about fifteen minutes. Would you like a mug of tea?’

  ‘Please,’ he said. He took off his jacket, scooped up Charlie and sat down in an armchair for a cuddle.

  Annie brought over his tea. ‘How was your mother?’

  He shrugged. ‘We all know she hasn’t long to go. But she’s in no pain. We think that she can possibly hear, understand what we’re saying. So we talk to her. When I hold her hand she sometimes seems to squeeze it. And it seems as if she’s trying to smile.’

  ‘What do you talk about?’

  ‘Family life. Holidays together. Sometimes I talk to her about my father. He died when I was eight but I remember him well.’

  Annie’s voice was quiet. ‘Did you miss him?’

  ‘I still do. But I suppose his death brought the rest of us together. We were… are… very close to my mother.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’m close to my parents.’

  ‘I would have liked her to see or to hear Charlie. But we talked about it and decided not to say anything about him.’

  ‘My parents would love a grandchild,’ Annie said. ‘They keep dropping hints. Now, chicken curry all right for you?’

  Wonderful,’ said Toby and kissed Charlie on the forehead. He wondered if Annie’s remark about her parents had been intended to be as pointed as it had felt.

  Toby said he enjoyed her curry, and Annie noted he certainly ate enough of it. Afterwards he made her sit down while he stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. And then they had to pay attention to the little snorts and wails coming from Charlie, who was waking up. He would need feeding and then bathing.

  Annie made his evening meal while Toby fetched the changing mat, the fresh clothes, and the bowl of warm water. Then he picked up his son and held him on his knee. ‘Going to have the same colour hair as your father,’ he said. ‘Like you, I was blond at first—but it went dark.’

  Charlie gurgled that he was happy with this.

  Eventually he was fed and bathed and put down to sleep. A job well done. ‘Doesn’t it take time?’ Toby said, fondly stroking his son’s head.

  Having cleared away before, they went to sit in the living room, side by side on the couch, listening to the occasional contented gurgle coming through the baby monitor.

  What should they do now? Annie wondered. What did ordinary couples do at this time? Not that they were an ordinary couple. They had been thrown together by circumstances and now had to find a way of living together.

  ‘I could stay here and babysit,’ she offered finally. ‘If you’d like to go to the Red Lion or somewhere, have a drink with a few pals.’

  ‘Thanks for the offer but I’d rather stay here. Do you want to go out?’

  Annie shook her head. ‘I’m happy here,’ she half lied.

  And so, like many couples in their situation, they turned on the television. This was just unreal, Annie felt. Were they playing at happy families or what?

  Charlie woke up; they could hear his screams through the intercom. ‘He’s been moved about too much over the past few days, meeting a lot of new people,’ Annie said. ‘Even babies can feel unsettled. He just wants comfort.’

  She went to pick him up, started to rock him. After a minute the screaming diminished a little—but didn’t end completely. So Annie started to sing to him. Then she walked up and down, singing, rocking.

  She could feel Toby watching her but deliberately didn’t look at him. ‘Shall I take him?’ he asked after a while.

  Annie shook her head. ‘He’s drifting off now. I’ll go back into your room and put him down there.’

  They had decided that whoever was going to look after the baby in the night should have him in their room. They would have alternate nights and tonight was going to be Toby’s turn.

  She stood in Toby’s bedroom, glanced around curiously. He had tried to make it a bit of a home, as she had. There were photographs of his family—and one large one of him that she hadn’t seen, of him in a white judo suit. He looked so—masculine in it. She sighed, carefully laid Charlie down.

  ‘Haven’t seen that picture of you in your judo suit,’ she said when she returned to the living room.

  He shrugged. ‘You know I don’t have much time for it any more. I used to be very keen and still keep my hand in now and then. But with Charlie I suppose I’ll have to drop it completely now.’

  ‘Don’t give up anything until it’s absolutely necessary,’ she counselled. ‘At the moment all you can see is the work. Your life will settle down after a while.’

  And for want of anything else to do, she sat by him and watched television again.

  Her sense of unreality grew even greater. Her entire life seemed different. She was watching television with Toby, not drinking with him in some bar, having a witty conversation. They weren’t out somewhere, doing things. They were both tired so they weren’t working. They were just together, but it seemed to her that they were together under false pretences. This should have been something that they both actively wanted, not something forced on them by circumstances. But reluctantly she had to admit it to herself. She was enjoying being with him.

  She’d had a hard day and she was tired. ‘Think I’ll go to bed,’ she said after a few minutes more. ‘I’m getting myself a hot drink—want one?’

  ‘Please. Want a shot of whisky in it?’

  ‘Don’t think so. I might get to like it too much.’

  She made two hot milk drinks, brought him one. ‘Goodnight then, Toby. It’s, been a different kind of day, but we’ll get used to it.’

  ‘Night, Annie.’

  They looked at each other. She wondered if she should kiss him goodnight—just on the forehead, of course. She saw him obviously wondering the same thing, saw him starting to rise from his seat.

  She didn’t want him to kiss her! Well, she did. But she was not going to let him. Who knew what it might lead to? She turned quickly and went into her bedroom. It was only a small room and she wouldn’t be in it very long, but she had tried to make it hers by bringing in photographs and a few personal items.

  She finished her drink, went for her bath, laid out clothes for the morning. Then she climbed into bed. Outside she could hear Toby, deliberately moving quietly, he had turned off the television so as not to disturb her.

  In the dark she decided she had enjoyed her first evening of domesticity. She had done little but it had made her happy. She remembered her own childhood, the certainties she had enjoyed. There had been rituals she had worked out with her own parents. She’d kissed both every night, and still did when she went home. Her dolls were safely waiting in a cupboard. Her child—if and when she had one—was going to feel the same happiness she had felt. She thought of Toby, was sure that he’d had a similar happy childhood. She knew his father had died early but she could still feel the great love he felt for his mother.

  She turned the light off but although she was weary she couldn’t sleep. Thoughts drummed around her head. She had been happy as a child. She felt that Toby had been happy as a child. Couldn’t he feel it? That he, she, and Charlie could be happy together? Maybe not.

  Tears started to trickle down her cheeks. She heard the click of doors outside her room. Toby was going to bed.

  After a while the tears stopped. She had told Toby she would stay two months. She would stick to that but a lot could happen in two months. He might even see how happy they could be together. If he didn’t recognise that happiness then they were no good for each o
ther. That decision made, she could sleep.

  Annie was in bed so he might as well go to bed himself. Toby entered his bedroom, looked down at his son. To one side was a table with everything that he might need in the night. Toby undressed quietly, made his way to the bathroom. When he came back the baby was grunting, making the noises that babies made. Of course he had heard babies before, on the wards, where there was usually someone else to deal with them. It was so different from having your own baby, one that was relying so completely on you for everything.

  He was tired but, of course, he couldn’t sleep. He thought about how his life had changed in just over a week. Now he almost felt married. Well, domesticated. And so, of course, he had to think about Annie.

  He realised he had rather enjoyed his quiet evening with her, though he had not expected to. It was so different from the livelier nights he was used to. The time he had spent with his dying mother had made him rather low; coming back to Charlie and Annie had cheered him up.

  He owed so much to Annie, how could he repay her? Of course, he knew what she wanted. She wanted a permanent relationship and, he had to admit, it seemed an attractive idea. But then he remembered how happy he had been with Gail. How certain he had been that it was something that was going to last for ever. He daren’t risk another such happening. Apart from anything else, what would it do to Charlie?

  Charlie woke up in the middle of the night. Toby tried just rocking the cot at first, but soon decided that this wasn’t enough. He climbed out of bed, fed, and cleaned Charlie, rocked him a while and then laid him back down. Charlie wasn’t having that. He yelled again. Toby picked him up, remembered how Annie had calmed his child. Well, he could sing too. Quietly he started.

  Further down the corridor the lightly sleeping Annie heard the words. She came awake at once, knew what was happening. Should she go and help? No. But she wanted to. She was dressed quite decently in a long T-shirt and… No! She put her head under her pillow, clutched the sides round her. She would not think of Toby in his dressing gown, in his bedroom, how grateful he might be and…