Now she was working with another doctor. It so happened that she'd never met him before. She was sure he'd be a good doctor. But for reasons she couldn't quite force herself to admit, she found him disturbing.
This was silly! She couldn't fall for a doctor on her first day working with him. And normally she was happy and busy with her work, she didn't seem to have much time for men. But he was so attractive— that blond hair, the rugged, thoughtful face... She shrugged, unlocked the first filing cabinet in her office and started to check through the latest case notes. She was here to work.
In exactly an hour she knocked on his door. She knew that this was a relationship she had to get right. In the hospital there had been a variety of doctors and if she didn't get on with one then it hadn't mattered too much. But she'd have to work closely with this man. It was important that they got things right from the start. That he knew what she could and what she could not do.
She thought she had got into the right frame of mind when she heard his invitation to come in. She would be composed, professional, attentive. But when she opened the door, saw his face light up and that wonderful, wonderful gold hair—well, things seemed a bit different.
He stood, offered her his hand and smiled. 'It seems that we've been working together already,' he said, 'and working very well, too. But now may I formally welcome you to the clinic. I'm Dr Tom Ramsey. Sometimes we'll have to be formal—I suggest "Midwife" and "Doctor". But I hope you'll call me Tom and you're...Maria, is it?'
'Yes, Maria.' She nodded. 'It's good to meet you... Tom.'
Tom waved her to a seat, sat down himself. 'I hope you'll be happy here,' he said. 'Personally, I'm very glad to see you, we need a midwife desperately. And James is happy you're here, too. I worried about him settling in here, but you've made it easier for him.'
'He seems a nice little boy,' Maria said. She knew she had to be cautious here, be tactful. 'But I don't think I'll see too much of him. I've just qualified, I'm still learning. I want to concentrate on midwifery, not...not paediatrics.'
She knew what she had said had been clumsy and hoped desperately that this man wouldn't mind too much. She wanted to work with him. But she had to indicate to him that in no way could she become a particular friend to James.
'That's very understandable,' he said after a moment. 'And I like people who know what they have to do. Now, three times a week we'll work together when I run a clinic. I'll be here most of the rest of the time, but you'll be on your own, running the ante-natal and the post-natal classes, making home visits and all the usual checks. But, remember, we are a team. You can interrupt me at any time if you have a query. And I'll do the same with you. Happy with that?'
'Very happy,' she said.
'There'll be things you need to know in the next few days, the way we work and so on. I'm afraid that as yet I haven't written any kind of formal induction programme. I'd like to write one. Perhaps, when we get this clinic fully organised, we could work on it together?'
'I'd like that,' she said.
'But until one is written—as I said—drop in any time.'
The interview seemed to be at an end. At this stage there was nothing more they had to say to each other, but she didn't want to go. And for some reason she felt that he didn't want her to go either. It was something unspoken, but they seemed to feel happy just to be with each other.
She sat there a while longer. Then, perhaps a little sadly, she said, 'I suppose I'd better go. I've got my first set of new mums coming in half an hour.'
'Fine. But, remember, I'm always here.'
Maria hurried to her room, checked over the notes for her first visitor and set out the trolley with everything she would need. Ten minutes to wait. She thought about her new boss.
It wasn't right that a man should have hair like that! And it was even longer than hers—though she had had hers cut brutally short. And inevitably he had the blue eyes to go with the golden hair. Large, dark blue eyes. He didn't have a pretty or feminine face. He had a tough face. For quite a young man there were more lines than she would have expected. It was the face of a man who could take decisions, no matter what the consequences.
She had noticed that after the first welcoming smile he hadn't smiled too much. He was pleasant but there was a reserve there. Well, reserve was good. James had said that his mother had died. Maria wondered how and when that had happened. Not that she could ask, of course.
Tom was a fit man, too. Maria could tell by the way he walked, by the trimness of his waist. Altogether, a very attractive man. The kind of man she would like to see more of. But she could not. For the moment, Maria felt she just couldn't cope with a four-year-old boy, especially one as sweet as James. Somehow she had managed this morning. But it was a situation to be avoided.
Maria forced herself to stop thinking about Tom and concentrated on the notes for her first patient.
It might have surprised her to know that Tom was thinking just as hard about her.
Maria had come very well recommended. Tom had asked for someone mature, who had several years in the profession, who was experienced. Ideally, someone who had children of her own. Jenny had told him that Maria was as good as anyone who had been working as a midwife for years. And she had told him things about Maria's past that had made him instantly sympathetic.
Unconsciously, he realised, he had still been half expecting a motherly, middle-aged woman. Instead he had got a tall, willowy beauty with penetrating grey eyes and a mouth that gave him feelings that he hadn't known in years. A pity her dark hair was cut so severely. But she was a beauty. He shook his head. His life was complicated enough already.
Maria had a good morning. At first it was a little difficult, she wasn't quite sure where everything was, and of course all the people she saw were new to her. But it was work she had done before, work she enjoyed, and there seemed to be more time to talk individually to her patients. There was no sense of being in some kind of people machine, as there occasionally was in hospital. This work was more intimate. And she liked it.
She had finished by twelve and already had a list of questions she wanted to put to Tom. Nothing too troublesome, just little matters of procedure she wanted to sort out. So she went to his office again.
'Maria! How has the first morning gone?' He seemed very pleased to see her. He pushed aside the pile of papers he was working on, stood and waved her to a chair.
'It's gone well. Just a few little details I want to sort out with you. For a start, there's a couple of patients I'd like you to look at some time. Nothing serious but...'
It took them perhaps ten minutes to sort out her queries. There were no major problems. She enjoyed talking to him, working towards solutions with him. And when everything was finished she felt again that she didn't really want to leave. But... 'Well, that all seems fine,' she said, rather reluctantly. 'I'd better leave you to get on with things.'
'No need to rush off—unless you have to. I thought we might chat a while.'
'I'm always ready to chat,' she said lightly. 'What do you want to talk about?'
He looked apprehensive. 'I want to be straightforward with you,' he said. 'Jenny told me that you had a little boy, and that he died. I wanted you to know that I know. And I sympathise more than you can imagine.'
Maria sat silent. She liked him for his honesty, that he could bring things out into the open. 'There's not much to say,' she said. 'Just so you understand that little boys make me remember. And it hurts.'
'I can see that.' He didn't say anything for a moment, and she found herself searching those dark blue eyes. There was sympathy there, and she thought that she could see a sadness, an acknowledgement that he had suffered, too.
He gave her a wry look. 'You think it'll get easier,' he said, 'you think the pain will go in time. Well, perhaps it does. In time.'
Then he smiled at her, and the effect was astounding. The sadness they had just shared was banished. There were other, better things in life.
'Now, let's start on something different,' he said. 'Why did you want to be a midwife?'
'Easy answer. My son was ill in a Spanish hospital and I got to know a lot of the nurses there. They seemed devoted to the job and they seemed to get a kick out of it. So when... when my son died, I wanted to do something similar myself. Not to repay anything, you understand, but to get a similar joy myself.'
'But why midwifery?'
'Well, I wondered what kind of medicine I'd like best. And I thought of the one branch of medicine where most of the time there was a happy ending. I love seeing the joy on a woman's face when she sees her child for the first time. Having my son was the best thing that ever happened to me.'
'I know the feeling,' he said.
There was silence for a moment, but both were happy with it.
'I don't talk to many people,' she said.
'Sometimes it helps.'
She tried to get her thoughts in order, to work out what to tell him, what was not really relevant. 'I had a baby just before my nineteenth birthday,' she said. 'A baby boy.'
He nodded.
'I was young and stupid, the father disappeared and now I can barely remember his face. I had my baby, and I was determined to keep him. It was hard, but somehow I managed. And after a while things improved for me. I got a job in Majorca as a kiddie rep for a holiday firm, I could do that and look after my baby. I had a tiny apartment in a hotel. The Hotel Helena. I had friends to help me and I loved the work and I got promoted. For three years I was happy.'
She drank water from the glass he had poured her, the words were sticking in her throat. 'These are the bare facts,' she said, 'I don't need sympathy and I don't need help.'
'I'll remember that.'
'My son developed a neuroblastoma. It was a rare case, in the brain. By the time the doctors realised that there was something seriously wrong it had spread to the spinal column and the bone marrow. There was no hope of surgery so the hospital tried the usual drugs, vincristine and so on. But we all knew that only a miracle could save him. And we didn't get one. He took six months to die.'
'He was just James's age,' Tom whispered. 'I can imagine what you felt.'
Looking at his sorrowful face, she suspected that perhaps he could imagine her pain.
'And so now you find it hard to deal with young children?' he asked.
'I find it difficult. I'm fine with babies, I love them. But when they're three, four years old.. .1 look at them and I think of my son. And that hurts more than I can tell you.' She smiled bitterly. 'One last thing. My son was called James, too.'
For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Then, to Tom's obvious irritation, his phone rang. And to Maria's relief, it was obviously an important call.
'I'll leave you,' she whispered, and made her escape.
* * *
Back in her own little office she wondered just what she had done. So few people knew about her dead son—she had rarely talked about it. Why had she suddenly decided to confide in Tom—a man she had only just met?
She had to admit it—she was attracted to him. That was as much as she would admit to herself. Just attracted to him. Not merely because he was the best-looking man she'd met in years. There was some feeling between them that she couldn't define. Some mysterious force pulling them together. It was as if they were soul mates. And soul mates shared things.
Then she told herself she was just being fanciful.
That afternoon Maria went to visit one of her new patients who had decided to have her baby at home. Having your baby at home was fairly common—Maria wasn't sure whether she approved or not. Certainly it was often a comfort to the mother—hospitals could be impersonal places. But for a midwife it was good to know that, if something should go wrong, there was expert help available within a couple of minutes.
She pulled up outside number 43 Lashmere Close. It was a new little house down a cul-de-sac in the middle of the housing estate.
As it was winter, the garden was bare, but Maria saw that the fallen leaves had been brushed up, the shrubs and lawn kept very tidy.
As she walked up the path she noted the pristine new net curtains, the highly polished brass doorknob and letterbox. This was a very well-kept house.
Inside all the furniture was new, neat and also polished. And the thirty-eight weeks pregnant Sally Chester was as neat and as organised as her new house. She insisted before they start that she fetch Maria a cup of tea. Tea came on a tray spread with a white embroidered cloth. There were biscuits on a plate, and smaller plates to put them on. And there were napkins.
Maria couldn't help wondering what Sally would do when she had to cope with the inevitably messy business of having a baby.
'This is the first real home of my own,' Sally said, a glint of determination in her eyes. 'I've always wanted a home and a family together, so I decided to begin by having my baby at home, and Brian, my husband, agrees. Other people have tried to put me off the idea. You're not going to do that, are you?'
'Just so long as you understand the risks and the difficulties,' Maria said. 'But I've looked through your notes and everything seems to be going well.'
'We can have a look at the nursery in a minute. I've had it painted in pink and light blue stripes, 'cos we don't care if it's a boy or a girl.'
'Very nice,' said Maria. 'But I'm more interested in the bedroom where you intend to give birth.'
'Well, we have an en suite bathroom. Brian has moved all the extra furniture into the spare room so there'll be plenty of room for you to work. And Brian will make us tea and coffee as we want it.'
'You seem to have thought of everything,' Maria said faintly. 'Now, can we go up to this bedroom? I'd like to examine you.'
'Of course. But would you like another digestive biscuit first?'
There was the usual examination. Perhaps the most important part was the general chatting, so that Maria could assess just how confident and ready Sally was. Then she checked BP, pulse and temperature, felt the lie of the baby, the size and whether the head was engaging. All the signs seemed to suggest that everything was fine.
With a hidden smile, Maria doubted that any new arrival would be allowed to upset Sally's carefully laid plans.
So far Sally had been the perfect mother-to-be. Perhaps the birth would be absolutely straightforward. But Maria wondered if underneath all the careful organisation, the calmness, the perfect control, there might be a problem. Sally was just too good to be true.
She didn't go back to the clinic after her visit, instead went straight back to the nurses' home. As she thought back over her day she decided that she was going to love this kind of work. By their nature, hospitals tended to be enclosed institutions. Being a community midwife meant she was out more in the real world. And she liked that.
She also thought about Dr Tom Ramsey. She thought she was going to enjoy working with him. She wondered again why she had chosen to confide in him—but it was not something she now regretted. She trusted him. And that was as far as she would allow herself to think.
CHAPTER TWO
After four days working at the clinic Maria was even more certain that she enjoyed the work. She wasn't part of a team of midwives any more, she was the only one. Tom had evidently decided to leave her to it, apparently content that she would ask him if she needed help. So she made most of her own decisions and that made her feel wanted and trusted. The second thing that made her content was that the work was so varied. Every day seemed to bring something new.
And there was a good staff. Molly Jowett, the receptionist, knew everybody and almost everything. She had been receptionist at the old clinic before this new one had been built. The lady who ran the crèche, June Roberts, was also friendly. She dropped in to see Maria and asked for a lesson in face-painting. Maria pleaded pressure of work, said she would do it later. On her own she had somehow managed with James, although it had been a strain. But she couldn't face the idea of working with a class full of young children.
> Tom was pleasant, too. He always put his head round her door to say good morning. He dropped in from time to time during the day. He never referred to what she had told him, and she was glad. She had confided in him, told him things about herself that few people knew. She didn't mind him knowing, but felt that perhaps they ought to get to know each other better. She had always been cautious with people.
On her second day there he brought in a painting that James had done especially for her. It showed the two of them holding hands, walking from the car to the clinic front door. Maria quickly taped it to one of her cupboards.
'You've made a hit there,' Tom said. 'He's hoping to see more of you. But if it's hard for you...?'
'Give me time,' Maria said. 'I'm settling in here but it's still all a bit hectic. I'd like to be friends with him. If I can cope.'
'There's no hurry,' Tom said.
On Friday morning she was bleeped by Sally Chester. All of the patients who were going to give birth at home were supplied with bleepers and told to use them at any time. Maria rang her straight back. Sally was as confident, as in control as ever. She was in labour. Contractions were now ten minutes apart. She had phoned her husband who had previously told his work that he'd be called away, he was coming home now. Perhaps soon would be a good time for Maria to come. 'I'm on my way,' said Maria. If all new mothers could be as efficient as Sally!
Fortunately she had a more or less free afternoon, otherwise she would have had to draft in another midwife from the hospital to take over her work. She collected her bag, put her head round Tom's door and told him where she was going. 'I'll phone for another midwife from hospital to come and help with the delivery,' she said.
There always had to be two midwifes at a home birth.
'From what you've told me, it should all be straightforward,' Tom said. 'I've got every confidence in you.' Then he looked rather troubled. 'Just one thing. Instead of sending for another midwife, would you mind if I came to assist you? Just to assist. I know you're in charge and I have no intention of taking over.'
A Child To Call Her Own Page 2