‘You’re not behaving very well, are you?’ Jamie growled.
Rory’s grin vanished abruptly. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Accidents don’t happen when you behave yourselves. Sit there,’ Jamie ordered firmly, pointing to the window-seat. ‘Boys that are nearly six years old should be capable of sitting and waiting without causing trouble.’
‘Oh, no!’ Janet muttered under her breath. Her feet began to move. She knew it was too late but she had to try. ‘Adam! Rory!’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth is going on? What happened to that curtain?’
The twins had scrambled to comply with Jamie’s order to sit on the window seat but they ignored their mother. Their small faces were mutinous.
‘We’re not nearly six,’ Rory said indignantly. ‘We were six on our last birthday.’
‘Rory’s right,’ Adam added. ‘We’re going to be seven soon.’
Jamie said nothing. He looked away from the two small faces and turned, very deliberately, to face Janet.
‘Is that right?’ he murmured casually. His gaze speared Janet. ‘You were quite right, Janet.’ Jamie’s voice was too low to be overheard by the other waiting patients. He aimed his words with icy precision.
‘We should have a talk.’
CHAPTER SIX
THE rights and wrongs of the situation were painfully clear.
James McFadden had the right to know that he was the father of the twins. The twins had the right to know who their father was. Janet was in the wrong. She was entirely to blame and the arguments she’d effectively mustered in her defence over the years had gone out of the window the instant she’d seen the three of them standing together in the waiting room.
Jamie also had the right to be angry. It was all too easy to see the situation from his point of view. It didn’t matter now many other relationships—or children—Jamie had had. The twins were his sons and he had been denied knowledge of their existence. He had missed nearly seven years of their lives.
Janet shivered. The fire had burned out long ago and she should have gone to bed then but what was the point? Her fear of the inevitable confrontation with Jamie made the prospect of sleep highly unlikely. What would he demand of her? And what was she prepared to give?
‘Oh, God,’ Janet groaned softly. What if he decided he wanted custody? It did happen in some cases when the mother was deemed unfit. Jamie had been at St David’s for four days. In that time he’d heard about the boys incinerating Mrs Carpenter’s shed, had seen their mother unaware of their exact whereabouts for a considerable period of time after school and had observed their unruly and destructive behaviour in the waiting room.
It would also be very easy for him to discover their learning difficulties at school and their relatively deprived living conditions at home. A damp, cold house that contributed to winter ills. A garden that was far too small for two boisterous boys to play in. Any solicitor could have a field day painting the dismal picture of the life Janet provided for the twins. Could she afford to defend herself?
She couldn’t afford not to defend herself. There was no way Janet was going to give up any part of her sons. She would fight any attack James McFadden mounted, tooth and nail. The attack would come, there was no doubt about that. And Janet would be ready for it.
She was ready for it as soon as she stepped through the door of St David’s on Friday morning. She had even anticipated the look of contempt she received from Jamie and she didn’t flinch at the controlled fury she sensed beneath the stare. Janet straightened her back. Any time, her body posture suggested. She was ready.
The readiness wore off during the morning, however. How could patients come and go with their minor ailments and complaints, oblivious to the detonation waiting to happen? How could Oliver and Sophie cope with their patient load, thinking that all was finally running smoothly after a difficult week? And why was Jamie biding his time, calmly charming patients and staff? Even Outboard had taken to following him at every opportunity and it was Jamie’s lap the cat chose when the staff gathered for a break at lunchtime.
Janet was a nervous wreck by then. She hoped no one would notice that her hands were trembling as she made herself a cup of tea. Intending to take the drink back to her room, Janet was dismayed by the level of concern Oliver’s tone indicated.
‘Come and sit down, Janet. You look like you’ve had a tough morning.’
‘I’ve got a few things to get on with.’ Janet tried to excuse herself. ‘I’m leaving a bit earlier today.’
‘Sit!’ Oliver commanded. ‘We don’t have a single patient on the premises at the moment and anything else can wait.’ He looked more closely at Janet. ‘Are you not sleeping well at the moment?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, Oliver.’ Janet avoided looking at Jamie. She smiled at Sophie instead. ‘More to the point, how are you, Sophie?’
‘Awful,’ Sophie admitted. ‘I haven’t thrown up today but I still feel like I’m going to all the time.’
‘Nothing worse than nausea,’ Jamie sympathised. ‘Did you get morning sickness, Janet, when you were expecting the twins?’
Sophie looked from Jamie to Janet, her surprise at Jamie knowing about the twins evident. Janet tried to sound casual.
‘Not really.’
‘You were lucky,’ Oliver observed. ‘It can be even more of a problem with twins.’
‘Everything’s more of a problem with twins.’ Janet smiled, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. She could feel Jamie’s cool stare. Was he waiting for more evidence of her inadequate mothering skills? ‘I mean, not a problem exactly. It’s just more … noticeable.’
Sophie was watching Jamie. ‘The twins are never a problem,’ she declared. ‘They’re terrific kids.’ She hesitated briefly. ‘Have you met them, Jamie?’
‘I had the pleasure yesterday,’ Jamie said blandly.
Janet stood up hurriedly. ‘That was one of the things I needed to do—arrange for someone to come and fix the curtain rail. I am sorry about that, Oliver.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Oliver assured her. ‘It’s not as if we ever close those curtains. I think we’ll just take the other one down as well and let some more light in.’
Sophie rose to follow Janet. ‘I must go, too. I want to pay a quick visit to Mr Collins before he goes home from hospital today. I’d better drop in on Pagan and make sure she’s behaving herself as well.’
‘Hang on!’ Oliver jumped to his feet. ‘I want to get our first-aid kit out of the car. It’s high time I updated it and I may as well take advantage of a quiet spell.’
Janet shut herself into the treatment room, knowing her respite would be brief. Sandy was having the afternoon off as a reward for having coped so well with her first week full time, and Janet would have to juggle reception duties with her own tasks. She would just wait a few minutes until Oliver came back inside and reduced the chance of an unchaperoned encounter with Jamie. Janet wasn’t ready for the confrontation any more. She needed time. Preferably a lot of it.
A minute ticked past. Then another. Janet went to the side window of the treatment room and peered out. She could see down to the car park at the back of the old house. Oliver and Sophie were standing beside their car. The first-aid kit was open on the bonnet and the two doctors appeared to be scrutinising and discussing its contents. Janet watched anxiously, so intent on her desire to see Oliver head back inside that she didn’t hear the door open and close quietly behind her.
‘Am I the boys’ father, Janet?’
Janet jumped at the voice behind her. She turned quickly, her face pale. After hesitating for a long moment, she nodded mutely.
‘Do Adam and Rory know they have a father?’
‘Yes, of course they do.’
‘What have you told them?’
‘That their father lives in Scotland. That we don’t live together because …’
‘Because what, Janet?’ Jamie had his back against the door. His arms were folded and his face looked as
though it had been carved from granite.
Janet’s mouth went dry. She tried to swallow. Jamie’s lip curled fractionally. ‘Never mind. What I really want to know is why you lied to me.’
Janet found her voice. ‘I didn’t!’
‘You told me you weren’t pregnant.’
‘I didn’t think I was. I got my period on time. I even had another one.’
‘Really.’ The word was blatantly scornful. Janet felt the blood return to her face with a rush.
‘It’s true.’
Jamie took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I can’t help that. It’s still the truth.’
‘And I still don’t believe you.’ Jamie’s gaze held Janet pinned. ‘To think that you accused me of lying and decided that I was untrustworthy.’ He snorted incredulously. ‘And all the time it was you being dishonest and manipulative. Maybe you’d planned on solo parenthood all along and I was just a convenient stud.’
Janet could feel her anger gathering. Giving her strength. She was telling the truth. How dared Jamie not believe her?
‘Did it not occur to you that I had the right to know?’
‘Of course it did. I was going to tell you. I tried to ring you in London but you … you didn’t answer the phone. Your …’ Janet paused, trying to sort the jumble of angry thoughts into coherency. What had Sharlene been to him at that point? His flatmate? Lover? His fiancée?
‘You’re lying,’ Oliver accused her quietly. ‘Again.’ He shook his head. ‘You never had any intention of telling me. Any intention of communicating with me at all.’
‘I did!’ Janet insisted. She could hear the telephone ringing in the office.
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you answered the letter as well.’
‘What letter?’
Jamie’s expression was disgusted. ‘Don’t try telling me you never received it. I know you got it. Sharlene told me she’d make sure you did.’
Janet gaped at him, dimly aware that the phone had stopped. Jamie knew about that letter? Perhaps even encouraged the writing of it? ‘You mean … about the baby? About getting married?’
‘Amongst other things.’
‘Yes, I got the letter.’ Janet’s voice was stronger now. Her tone was clipped. ‘The message was perfectly clear.’
‘And did you answer it?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Janet shook her head slowly. ‘What more was there to say, Jamie? It was finished.’
‘But it wasn’t finished, was it, Janet?’ The phone was ringing again. The sound grew suddenly more strident as Jamie wrenched the door open. ‘It’s still not finished,’ he warned Janet. ‘Not by a long shot.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Janet demanded. She was ready to fight now. That he could accuse her of lying and almost in the same breath admit that her reasons for not trusting him had been justified was quite unbelievable. ‘Just what do you intend trying to do, Jamie?’
‘I haven’t decided.’ Jamie’s tone was cold, his face set. ‘I’ll let you know when I have. In the meantime …’ Jamie turned away ‘… why don’t you answer that damned telephone?’
Janet did answer the damned telephone. She barely registered listening to the caller’s tale of woe and she made the appointment automatically. She felt furious. She’d been telling the truth and Jamie had no intention of believing her. Being falsely accused wasn’t something that had happened to Janet since she’d been a child. It was so unfair and she had no means of proving her innocence. She hated Jamie McFadden. Just as much as he obviously hated her. What a mess!
Janet stared at the telephone as it began ringing again. A line of thought was trying to untangle itself and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to. Jamie had been this angry at her once before. When she hadn’t believed him. She’d known him quite well enough to recognise the anger as genuine. Now she was experiencing it herself and she knew why. It was because the accusation was unjustified. She was innocent. But that line of reasoning couldn’t be applied in retrospect to Jamie. Or could it? Janet had been wrong in her decision not to let Jamie know about the twins. Was that the only thing she had been wrong about?
The phone was still ringing as Oliver breezed through the front door, carrying his first-aid kit. ‘Aren’t you going to answer that, Jan?’
Janet pushed her confusion firmly aside. She reached for the receiver. ‘Good afternoon,’ she said stiffly. ‘St David’s Medical Centre. Janet speaking.’
For a large man, Jamie made himself remarkably unobtrusive for the remainder of Friday afternoon. Janet was far too busy to allow personal problems to interfere with her duties. It was a relief to concentrate on work. Sophie returned by mid-afternoon, looking much brighter. Janet made her a cup of tea. Oliver and Jamie came into the staffroom as Sophie sat down at the table.
‘Pagan’s fine,’ she reported. ‘She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed in the ward, meditating to keep her blood pressure down. She says she only needs to keep it up for a few more days until the star signs are exactly right and then it doesn’t matter even if she has to have a Caesarean. They might induce her next week if things stay stable.’
‘How’s Mr Collins?’ Oliver queried.
‘Going home. Says he feels better than he has for years. He says he’ll come in on Monday with a copy of his discharge summary so you can have an in-depth discussion about future monitoring.’
Oliver grinned. ‘Hey, Jamie. Are you planning on coming back on Monday?’
Jamie raised an eyebrow. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
Oliver chuckled. ‘I thought this last week might have put you off St David’s somewhat.’
Jamie’s smile was relaxed. Janet was already moving towards the door but she knew he was watching her. She could feel the gaze like a touch between her shoulder blades.
‘I’m not put off that easily, Oliver. I have every intention of sticking it out.’
‘Good for you.’ Oliver was smiling broadly. ‘In that case, let me tell you about your new patient for Monday morning.’
‘Oliver—you wouldn’t!’ Sophie giggled.
Janet cleared the door, moving more rapidly. She could still hear Oliver’s warm approbation.
‘This man is a champion,’ he declared. ‘If anyone can win with our Mr Collins, it’s our Dr McFadden.’
Our Dr McFadden. So he was one of them now. Janet gritted her teeth. And he was a winner. What would that make Janet? The loser?
The weekend passed too swiftly. Janet’s time with her sons was precious. Even the minor irritations of sibling arguments, sabotage of her housekeeping efforts and occasional accidental destruction seemed unimportant. Monday morning arrived and the boys were unusually keen to go to school. Janet was less than keen to return to St David’s. Jamie had had a whole weekend to plan his campaign. Would today be when he chose to inform her of his decisions?
Sophie didn’t look well again and Oliver was clearly worried about his wife.
‘I thought complete bed rest over the weekend would help, but it hasn’t,’ he told Janet. He pulled a file from his in-basket. ‘If this keeps up much longer I might admit her to hospital for a few days. She’s bordering on dehydration.’
‘Has she seen a specialist about it?’
‘No.’ Oliver brightened a little. ‘We thought it was too early to choose one but that’s a good thought, Janet. I’ll arrange something today.’ He spotted the arrival of Mr Collins and beat a hasty retreat from the reception area.
Sandy was fascinated by Mr Collins’s account of his ‘near death’ experience.
‘I was up in that corner, lassie,’ Mr Collins told her, pausing to indicate the portion of the ceiling beside the broken curtain rail. Janet noted that Mr Collins’s vocal volume control appeared to have been adjusted. It was the first time she’d ever heard him talking so quietly. ‘I could see them working on me,’ he said softly in awe. ‘Dragging me back from the brink.’
‘Really?’ Sandy’s eyes were round. Her tone was as hushed as that of Mr Collins. ‘Was that when you heard the music?’
A small queue had formed behind Mr Collins. Janet decided it was time to intervene. ‘Perhaps I could take your blood pressure, Mr Collins, while you’re waiting to see the doctor. You should really be sitting down.’ Janet glanced at the manila folder her patient was holding. ‘Is that your discharge summary?’
‘It’s a copy of everything that went into my medical records,’ Mr Collins told her proudly, ‘including a detailed account of my angioplasty procedure. I know Dr Spencer will want to see it.’
‘Actually, it’s Dr McFadden who will be seeing you this morning, Mr Collins. He’s our locum.’
‘A locum?’ Mr Collins looked alarmed. ‘But he won’t know anything about my history!’
‘He’s an excellent doctor,’ Janet said soothingly. ‘In fact, it was Dr McFadden who helped us save your life when you arrested.’
‘Is that right? Part of the resuscitation team, was he?’
‘Aye.’ Janet nodded as she wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around Mr Collins’s upper arm. ‘You gave him a dramatic start to his stay with us. I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing how you are today.’
Mr Collins looked unconvinced. He eyed the inflating cuff. ‘Pump that up a bit further,’ he advised Janet. ‘You’ll find the systolic pressure about 160.’
Janet squeezed the bulb a few more times. ‘You must have been seen by a lot of doctors who didn’t know you in the hospital. Sometimes it helps to have a fresh perspective.’
Mr Collins nodded thoughtfully. ‘You could be right there, lassie. And I can fill him in. I know what I’m talking about.’
‘You do indeed, Mr Collins.’ Janet deflated the cuff. ‘One-sixty over ninety.’
Mr Collins sighed with satisfaction. ‘I’m thinking of getting my own sphygmomanometer,’ he told Janet, ‘so I can monitor my own blood pressure. What brand would you recommend?’
‘Ask Dr McFadden.’ Janet suppressed a mischievous smile as she unwrapped the cuff. ‘I’m sure he knows much more about the technical specifications than I do.’
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