A Child To Call Her Own

by Gill Sanderson

  Maria was surprised. 'Of course you can come if you want. But you don't know something that I ought to know, do you? Is Sally in any kind of danger?'

  He shook his head vigorously. 'No, nothing like that, nothing at all. Every now and again I just like to observe a perfectly normal birth. Will you phone me when you think there's about half an hour to go?'

  'Whatever you want,' said Maria.

  In fact, she was rather annoyed at Tom's request. This was her birth—he wasn't needed. Was he checking up on her? He certainly hadn't done so yet. Still, if he wanted to assist, he could. If Sally agreed.

  She arrived at the neat house arid was let in by Brian. This was the first time Maria had met him. He was wearing the apron that midwives suggested that husbands should wear—and underneath it Maria could see a perfectly white shirt and some kind of college tie.

  'I have been helping my wife relax by holding her hand and comforting her,' he told Maria. 'The contractions are now three minutes apart and the waters have broken. I understand that I have to be in the room to reassure Sally with my presence.'

  Maria smiled to herself. Word for word, Brian was quoting from the sheet of suggestions and instructions that the hospital issued to all fathers-to-be.

  'Are you looking forward to being a father?' Maria asked.'

  Brian's mask slipped, just for a moment. 'I'm terrified,' he said.

  Maria smiled reassuringly. 'Everything will be fine,' she said, 'and I'll appreciate your help later on.'

  She went upstairs and checked Sally. Everything was proceeding well. 'I am managing the pain,' Sally said firmly. 'The relaxation classes were very good and now I am benefiting.'

  Another quotation, this time from the little booklet issued to mums-to-be.

  If all births were like this, Maria thought once again, her job would be much simpler. But she was still cautious. Sally was too good to be true.

  It happened half an hour later. Sally sent Brian downstairs, apparently to ensure that everything was clean and tidy. He did not want to go, protesting that everything was fine and that he wanted to stay. And the book said that he should stay. But Sally was determined. 'We'll call you when we want you,' she said.

  Maria felt the first touch of apprehension. There was a quaver in Sally's voice, she wasn't in control any more. And although her contractions were getting more frequent, and more painful, they were still apparently bearable.

  She stroked her patient's face. 'Everything's going well,' she soothed. 'It won't be long now and you'll have a beautiful baby.'

  'I'm frightened! I've done everything I can and I'm frightened! It'll be like my mother all over again!'

  As a matter of course Maria had checked, and had been told that both Sally's parents were dead. Sally had obviously not wanted to talk about them, they had been dismissed at once. But now this. 'What will be like your mother?' Maria asked cautiously.

  'My mother wasn't like me. She was a hippie—she carried on smoking and drinking throughout her pregnancy. And then my little brother. He just died, and I know it was her fault and I hated her for it. And now it's going to happen to me. Maria, will I be all right? Will my baby be all right? I've done everything that I should do.'

  Maria had wondered at Sally's iron self-control. Now she understood it. It was a reaction against her fear. Whilst offering the world a calm, composed, super-efficient face, underneath she had been terrified. It made her much more human.

  'No one could have done more than you,' she reassured, 'and everything is going well. Now, forget about your mother, concentrate on yourself and your husband and your baby. Everything will be fine.'

  It took time. But slowly Sally calmed down. Brian came upstairs and, as his instructions said, held her hand and comforted her. Maria sighed with relief.

  Labour progressed. In spite of Sally's fears, it was simple and straightforward but still emotionally demanding. A new life coming into the world! Maria felt proud and pleased to be helping.

  She had asked Sally's permission, and when she thought the birth was about half an hour away she phoned Tom.

  'Get another cup out for the doctor,' Sally gasped.

  Tom arrived, was given the almost compulsory cup of tea—and biscuits—served this time by Brian, Maria noticed wryly.

  There needed to be two midwives assisting at the moment of birth. Although Tom was an O and G registrar, Maria was in charge. Unless there were problems, the midwife was always in charge.

  Tom worked silently with her. Maria had wondered about this, the midwife and her assistant had to work together. They had to guess what was necessary, read each other's thoughts. And she and Tom made an instant, perfect team. That was unusual.

  And Maria could sense his pleasure at the work. There was a reverence in his attitude, a gentleness in his hands.

  Straightforward but always magical. Maria delivered Sally and Brian's baby. And for the second time Sally lost her iron self-control, 'My baby's been born, my baby's been born!' she screamed. 'Show me my baby!'

  'It's a little girl!' Brian gasped, a sob in his voice. 'We've got a daughter.'

  It was Tom's job to wrap the baby and then hand her to Brian, who, as instructed, took the baby and laid it on his wife's breast. A small, perfect little girl.

  Maria managed to glance at Tom's face and was struck by what she saw there. She couldn't quite make out his expression—there was half delight, half sadness—but he said nothing, and this was not a time to talk anyway.

  The placenta was delivered. After the birth there was a time for, if not relaxation, then calm. Tom quietly left, Brian was sent to make more tea and then bury the placenta where the roses were to be planted. And Sally lay there looking at her child with that expression that Maria had seen so often and loved so much. A kind of contentment, a pride that she had done so well. And an overwhelming feeling of love.

  Maria cleared up then she prepared to leave, saying she would return next morning. Brian had the telephone number, to be used for any emergencies. 'I have been told what to expect as normal, and what might be cause for alarm,' Brian said. 'I feel quite confident.' Then his composure broke again. 'Isn't she a gorgeous little girl?'

  'She's lovely,' Maria agreed.

  As she drove away she wondered with a smile if 43 Lashmere Close would ever be so tidy again.

  It wasn't too late so she decided to call at the clinic to write up her report. To her surprise there was a dim light on in Tom's room. She knocked and looked in.

  He was working at his desk, sitting in his shirtsleeves. The screen of his computer shone, there was a small lamp illuminating papers on his desk. His hair glowed golden in the dim light.

  He smiled when he saw her. 'Maria, come in and sit down! You must be exhausted.'

  'Just a bit now,' she agreed, taking a seat. 'I always get the adrenaline rush when there's a birth—but it's passing now. What are you doing here so late?'

  He shrugged. 'Paperwork to catch up on. My mother's come over to look after James for a while. It was a good birth, wasn't it?'

  'Perfect,' she agreed. 'I still don't know why you wanted to be there.'

  He didn't answer at once. Then he said, 'Being a doctor, you often get called in at awkward times, when there are problems. It's good to remind yourself that the great majority of births are happy, successful events.'

  'You seemed quite involved with it,' Maria said.

  She sensed some kind of reserve in him and she wasn't entirely convinced by his answer. 'I'm an O and G doctor, Maria. I have to get involved.'

  What he said made sense. But once again she couldn't make out his expression. He was looking at her—almost longingly? She didn't know. But although tired she was feeling happy, relaxed. A job had been well done.

  She had known him for less than a week, but she felt the afternoon's events had bonded them in some way. And she felt she wanted to see more of him. To see him outside work. She said, 'There' s a fundraising event at the hospital social club tomorrow night. Are you goin
g?'

  The question hung between them. He looked at her thoughtfully. 'I hadn't intended to,' he said. 'I don't usually go to that kind of function. Will you be going? Are you a party girl?'

  'Like you, I don't usually go. But a lot of the department will be there, it'll be a gathering of old friends. We're celebrating Jenny being able to walk again. I want to see that. You know about her accident?'

  'I do. And I can envy Mike his good fortune in finding someone like Jenny. They're a couple who deserve happiness.'

  'Well,' she went on, 'I'm going to the party. Why don't you drop in, too? If only for a while.'

  The desk light illuminated his papers, but left much of his face in shadow. She couldn't see his expression when he said, 'Do you want me to go, Maria? Would it please you to see me there?'

  She recognised that this was more than just a casual question. There was a slight tremor in her voice when she said, 'Yes. It would please me to see you there.'

  'OK, I'll come. Just for a while. I try to keep as much of my weekends for James, but I'll come to the party after he's gone to sleep.'

  'You'll enjoy it,' she promised.

  'Look who's just come in!' Jenny Donovan said, 'I never imagined I'd see him at a party.'

  Maria was one of a small group of midwifes and partners happily chatting at the social club. They all turned to see Tom enter.

  Seeing him gave Maria a thrill. He looked well— wearing a dark suit with a honey-coloured open-necked shirt—and then that burnished blond hair. Theirs was not the only group to notice him. More than a few heads turned for an apparently casual glance. He was a good-looking man.

  'Maria, you're working with him. Did you have anything to do with him coming?' Jenny asked.

  'I did tell him there was a party,' Maria admitted. She didn't want to tell anyone that she had persuaded Tom to come. 'Doesn't he go out much?'

  'Rarely,' said Jenny. 'He spends most of his time with his son.'

  'I'm going to ask him if he wants to join us,' Maria said. 'He doesn't seem to want to join any particular group. We wouldn't want him to feel lonely.'

  Her cheeks warmed as she felt Jenny's appraising glance. 'He doesn't look lonely,' Jenny said. 'But do go and ask him.'

  Jenny was right, Maria thought as she looked at Tom. He seemed quite cool and collected as he made his way towards the bar.

  For a moment she hesitated. She didn't want to be forward. Then she told herself that they were colleagues who worked together, that he had tried to make her welcome at the clinic. No, he had done more than make her welcome.

  She felt that there was something growing between them—she didn't know what but both of them were very cautious. So now she wanted to talk to him. Before she could change her mind, she walked over.

  'I'm so glad you came,' she said. 'This is a good cause. Do you want to come and join us?'

  He hadn't seen her approach him, he turned as she spoke. He smiled, but not in the reserved way he usually smiled at her. Instead, she saw the flare of interest in his eyes as he looked at her.

  She was wearing a wine-red halter-necked dress. Perhaps it was a bit revealing but, then, a girl didn't want to spend all her life in a midwife's uniform. Still, she couldn't help herself, she tugged at the top of the dress. And that, she supposed, made it more noticeable.

  'I'd love to join you,' he said. 'And I want to say hello to Jenny anyway. To thank her for finding you for the clinic.'

  Maria's cheeks warmed again.

  He kissed Jenny on the cheek, shook hands with Mike, Jenny's husband. Jenny said, 'It's great to see you here, Tom. You don't get out often enough.'

  'I was ordered here by my new midwife. She said I had to come so I did. Jenny, it's good to see you walking so well.'

  'If you've got help from your friends and your husband, you can get over anything,' Jenny said. 'When are we going to see you?'

  There was a great drum roll, ending in a blasting brass chord that echoed and seemed to go on for ever. Time to start dancing again. The DJ shouted, 'Sorry for you younger people, but we need something for the oldies—a waltz. And I want a special couple to lead it—Mike and Jenny!'

  There was another drum roll but this one was almost drowned by the applause. Maria watched as Mike offered Jenny his hand and she haltingly accompanied him onto the floor. Then the music started and they danced.

  'Now, that is really something good to see,' Tom said to Maria.

  She nodded. 'It is. I could cry but that's something I never do.'

  Jenny and Mike had circled the floor twice and now other couples were joining them. 'Would you like to dance?' Tom asked hesitantly. 'I haven't danced for over four years but I'm willing to try if you are.'

  'I'm not expert either. But I'd love to dance with you.' She offered him her hand and he led her onto the floor.

  They were dancing. He had his arm round her waist, his fingers resting on her bare skin. Their bodies were touching and when he stepped forward his thigh pressed against hers. She had forgotten just how intimate dancing could be. For a while she was content that he didn't speak, she needed to deal with violently conflicting emotions in her breast.

  She was enjoying this too much! Being held by Tom, feeling the strength in his fingers and arms, feeling the movement of his body next to hers, feeling the warmth of his breath on her face. She was enjoying it far too much! But for a while it was good to dream.

  She saw that they were attracting quite a few glances and realised that they were a noticeable couple. Perhaps her wine-coloured dress went well with his blond hair. Mischievously, she said, 'You should go out more often, a lot of people are looking at you. Every woman here envies you your blond hair.'

  He thought for a moment and then said, 'If anyone is looking then I suspect they're looking at you.' He went on cheerfully, 'You know, my hair's even longer than yours. Perhaps that's why people are looking at us.'

  'I used to have it longer. I prefer it short now, this style is more efficient.' She couldn't help it if her voice was curt. She didn't want to talk about why she had short hair.

  The waltz ended and to more applause Mike and Jenny left the floor. The DJ announced that he would be playing something a bit more lively. Tom raised his eyebrows and she shook her head. That wasn't for her, and so they went back to their small group.

  There was a lot of news to catch up on, a lot of people to see, and she lost track of Tom for a moment. He also had people to talk to. Then he came up beside her, took her wrist and gently drew her to one side. She liked it when he touched her.

  'I want to stay with you, he said, 'but I really must go. I've just had a phone call—James has rather a bad headache and I want to go to check up on him. I'm sorry to leave, Maria.'

  'I'm sorry you're going, too,' she said, then wondered if that was a bit too frank. 'But we'll see each other on Monday morning. At work.'

  'That thought will help me through the weekend,' he said. And then he was gone.

  Maria pondered. Just what had he meant by that last remark?

  While she was thinking, Jenny came up to her. 'My leg's aching a bit,' she said. 'Let's go and sit down for a while. We'll talk, just you and me.'

  She led Maria to a table in a quiet corner, somewhere where they wouldn't be disturbed. 'Just how well are you getting on with Tom Ramsey?' Jenny asked.

  'He's a good man to work with. Very calm. A bit reserved, but I like that. Do you know him well?'

  Jenny shook her head. 'Not really well. Like you say, he can be a bit reserved. I know he was born locally but he trained and worked in London. He was happily married, looking forward to the birth of his first child. And then his wife died.'

  'But his son survived.'

  Jenny nodded. 'Lord knows how he coped. Anyway, he took a job up here a year ago. His mother lives nearby and she helps him look after the child. He devotes his life to James. Mike says he's a brilliant doctor but he seems to avoid all social life.' She looked at Maria curiously. 'That leads us to another ques
tion. How come you managed to persuade him to come here?'

  'I just suggested it to him,' Maria protested. 'We didn't even come together and he's certainly left without me.'

  'I don't think he wanted to. I saw how he was looking at you. Earlier on he was asking about you. He seemed a bit more curious that one colleague asking about another, but he hid it very well. Are you interested in him?'

  'I could be,' Maria said with unusual frankness. 'In fact, yes, I am. But I'm frightened. And he's got James, and every time I look at James my feelings get all scrambled up. There was my James and now this one, and they're so much alike and yet they're different and...' Her voice trailed away.

  'Over the past four years you've built a shell around yourself,' Jenny said. 'Is Tom Ramsey starting to crack that shell?'

  'He might be,' Maria said after a while.

  Maria enjoyed the ante-natal clinic. First she ran a relaxation class and then saw the mums-to-be individually as the others drank tea and gossiped. She knew that a lot of friendships were formed at these classes. The people were neighbours, saw a lot of each other.

  They formed an unofficial support group for each other. At the moment all was going well for most of them, but those who were having problems could ease things by talking through them.

  Maria was just writing up the notes on the last patient when there was a phone call from Molly. 'I've got a late arrival who'd like to see you. She hasn't an appointment but do you think that you could squeeze her in?'

  Maria could tell by Molly's controlled tone that the person in question was listening in to the phone call.

  And that Molly felt that she should be seen. 'Send her along to get a cup of tea,' she said. 'I'll see her after I've finished with this patient.'

  'Lady's name is Tracy McGee,' Molly said and rang off.

  Maria finished with her current patient, smiled at her and said that all was well. Then she looked for the file on Tracy McGee. Tracy had missed her last three appointments. And lightly, in pencil, on the front of the file was written, 'Partner is no good. Drug abuse?'