A Child To Call Her Own

by Gill Sanderson

  He seemed distracted, as if the question didn't make any sense. Then he said, 'She seems to be fine, the paramedics are taking her straight to hospital. But are you all right?'

  'Yes! I said I'm fine and I am.'

  'Well, let's get away from here and we'll talk about it.' He put his arm round her shoulders, led her away from the now raging fire.

  'Maria, I've just been told—that was a mad thing to do! You could have been killed.'

  'But I wasn't.' Perhaps what might have happened suddenly struck her. She tried a joke. 'Were you frightened of losing your only midwife?'

  'Maria, when I heard that you were in that...that furnace, when I thought that you could be killed, I...' He shook her, almost in anger. 'How could you do such a thing?'

  She was shocked at the depth of feeling he was showing. This was Tom, calm, reserved, imperturbable Tom. And he was worried about her.

  'I'm all right,' she soothed. 'The odd scratch, that's all. The fire never got near me.'

  He looked at her, as if unable to believe what she was saying. 'I really do think you should go to hospital. Just for a check-up.'

  'No, Tom! I'm all right. Nothing wrong with me at all. I just don't want to go into hospital. I don't like fuss.'

  She saw he was calming down, but still in doubt about what to do with her. Finally he handed her some keys. 'These are the clinic keys. Walk over there and wait for me. I'm still a doctor, I've got to be certain there's nothing I can do here. But I want to be with you.'

  One of the firemen was standing nearby. Seeing that Maria was about to walk away, he came over and said, 'Standing orders are that this young lady should be seen by a doctor. But as you're a doctor, I suppose that's fine. But I'll walk her across to the clinic.' To Maria he said, 'In future leave that kind of rescue to us, we're trained for it. But I suspect you saved the little girl's life.' They walked across in silence.

  She went into Tom's office, found a blanket and wrapped it round herself. She sat in his chair. And then she burst into tears, something she never did. Perhaps she had saved the little girl's life. Well, that was something.

  Tom came in about half an hour later, sat opposite her and took her hands in his. 'I'm not needed any more,' he said. 'The paramedics there know more than I do. No more injured but Alice's mother arrived to see the fire and promptly had hysterics. Maria, you know you ought to be checked over in hospital.'

  'I'm all right. And I'm not going to hospital.' She hoped her voice was firm enough.

  She could tell what he was doing. He was trying to still the tremor in his voice, he was still terrified by what had happened—or what could have happened. But there might be a refuge in acting as a calm dispassionate doctor.

  'Either you go to hospital or I examine you now.'

  'Tom, I'm fine, I just need—'

  'The hospital or me!'

  So she followed him into the treatment room.

  He checked her pulse, breathing, BP, the usual things. He listened to her chest, concerned about the possibility of smoke inhalation. Then he sighed. 'You're a lot fitter than you ought to be. Now, let's look at those cuts on your legs. Take your tights off.'

  They were just scratches to her arms and legs, nothing too serious, but now feeling rather painful. He washed and dressed them, decided there was no need for suturing. Then he said, 'Physically there's no great cause for alarm. But I think that you're still shocked, you ought to be watched overnight. Is there anyone you could stay with? Is your family local?'

  'No,' she said flatly. 'But I'll be all right in the nurses' home.'

  'Not ideal.' He thought for a moment and then said, 'Maria, I think you should come home and stay the night at my house. I'm afraid there's only me there but—'

  'I'm not worried about that,' she said. Then she considered his offer. 'I accept,' she said. 'It's very nice of you.'

  'Wait here a minute then.'

  He went back to his office, drank a glass of cold water. Then he filled the basin in the corner of the room with more cold water, rubbed it over his face and neck. It was truly cold and he shivered. That was what he'd needed.

  As he'd examined her he'd been aware that she might have been killed—and the very thought terrified him. For the past few days he had been working very long hours. It was necessary and he had been pleased about it. It had stopped him thinking about Maria, what his feelings were for her, what he should do about her. And now he had seen her risk her life for someone. He had been terrified.

  He was strangely silent as they drove to his home and it worried her. 'Tom, are you all right? You seem a bit on edge. You're not hurt, are you? Or is anyone else hurt? You've examined me, you know I'm all right. So what's the problem?'

  He thought for a while. Then he decided to be completely honest. He muttered, 'When I arrived at the hut it was on fire and they told me that you were inside. There was no way I could get to you. I thought you might be dying, or even dead already. And I knew I just couldn't stand it. I've had that kind of pain before.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He took her to a pleasant detached house in the suburbs with a large garden. Even in winter it looked well tended. Tom saw her looking. 'I employ a gardener,' he said. 'I've no time to work here myself. I just sit out in it when it's warm. Come on inside.'

  He took Maria into a large living room. Although it was elegant in shape and design, and held good furniture, it still had that lived-in look that made it a home rather than a room.

  Maria looked around. Instantly she saw a photograph on the mantelpiece. It was of a pretty, happy girl, smiling out at the world as if everything was fine and would always be so. Maria knew at once who it was and for a moment she felt insecure. 'Is that Jane?'

  'Yes, that's Jane. I wanted James to grow up knowing he had a mother—once.'

  'A good idea,' she said. 'And it reminds you of her, too.'

  'I think of her every day anyway,' he said.

  Maria looked around the room—the dark red curtains, the Persian rug on the polished floor, the two leather couches facing each other. It made her feel uncomfortable, even more aware of how she looked— and smelt. It was childish but she wanted this man to see her at her best. 'Tom, I shouldn't be here,' she said. 'I stink of fire and my clothes are filthy and it's all horrible. You'd better take me back to the nurses' home and I'll—'

  'Upstairs for a bath,' he said. 'I'll get towels, there's shampoo, I'll find you a hair-drier and all that sort of thing. And I'll dig you out something to wear. I'll get a plastic bag and you can put all your clothes in that for now. Or do you want me to put them in the washing machine?'

  'I'll do them when I get back,' she said. Somehow, the idea of Tom washing her clothes was just too intimate.

  She followed him upstairs and into a panelled, dark-curtained bedroom that was obviously his. He led her into an en suite bathroom, fetched towels from a cupboard and from somewhere produced a lady's dressing-gown. 'My mother's,' he explained with a brief smile. 'She lives very close, often stops over. Now, will you be all right in the bath? If you want, I can redo your dressings afterwards.'

  'I'll be fine,' she told him.

  'Well, leave the door open just in case. I'll shout if I'm nearby.'

  It was a relief to get out of the smoky clothes, to wrap them in the plastic bag he had given her. And it was good to lie there in the warm water, stirring the surface into foam from the expensive bath oil he had found for her. Though her cuts and grazes stung a bit.

  Maria usually took showers. When she took a bath it was usually before or after a special event—well, she supposed this had been a special event. And usually she lay there luxuriating and thinking! Lying in a long, warm bath was the best time for reflecting. But this time she didn't want to think, to have to make decisions. She wanted events to take their own course.

  She didn't know how her risking her life would affect Tom. So far he'd been half angry with her, half terrified for her. Well, at least it showed that he was concerned for her. Or wa
s it something more?

  She heard noises from the bedroom behind her, sank lower in the foam. She heard him shout, 'I've found you something to wear—an old tracksuit of mine. Not elegant, but it'll keep you warm and decent. I'll leave it on the bed.' Maria sighed. She supposed she ought to get out of the bath.

  His tracksuit was big on her, but she didn't mind that. Her short hair was easy to dry. Maria took a breath, went downstairs.

  He had changed, too, into chinos and a T-shirt. Like hers, his feet were bare. He offered her a glass of water. 'There's a painkiller in there, it'll help a little. And after that you can have some wine. Now, how hungry are you?'

  She realised she was very hungry indeed.

  'I've made a few sandwiches, sit down and dig in. Your blood sugar must be low. We'll sit here and have a quiet hour or so, and then I recommend that you go to bed. Best thing after a frightening experience like you've had.'

  'Yes, Doctor,' she said with a smile. But she had to admit that the programme he had outlined was ideal. There was music playing softly in the background, the sandwiches looked good and he was pouring her a glass of white wine. For a while Maria felt at peace with the world. Tired but at peace.

  'So you have no family locally to go to?' he asked after a while. 'Are they far away?'

  'You could say that. They live in Florida.'

  'Must be handy when you want a holiday.'

  She shrugged. 'I've never been. My mother died when I was ten, after a long illness. When I was fourteen my father remarried. I never got on with my stepmother. When I was eighteen and got a job abroad, I could tell that both of them were relieved. In fact, I didn't even turn to them for help when I...' She remembered that she had already told him. 'When I got pregnant.'

  'That must have been hard for a nineteen-year-old,' he said.

  'I coped. I learned that the only person you could trust was yourself. Mine is an entirely different kind of family from yours.'

  For a moment, she wished that wasn't true. She would have liked to have had a mother like Tom's. And a son like... She winced at the thought.

  He realised that she didn't want to talk. 'Perhaps so,' he said. 'Now, more wine?'

  She managed to shake her head and yawn at the same time. 'I don't think so. I'm feeling very tired.'

  He was the perfect host. 'Then you'd better go to sleep. I made you up a bed in the spare room while you were in the bath. You've had a busy day.'

  He took her upstairs, led her along a corridor and opened a door into a small room with a single bed with fresh-looking bedding, books and a carafe of water by the bedhead. 'Bathroom is right next door,' he said. 'I've put out a toothbrush for you and there should be everything else that you need. I'll let you sleep in tomorrow. Goodnight, Maria.'

  'Tom, you've been so good to me.' She leaned forward, gently kissed him.

  She had intended it just to be a friendly goodnight kiss. But on the lips. And then, somehow, she didn't move. They remained there, only their lips touching. And after a moment she put her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes.

  He waited a moment. Then she felt his arms around her, bringing her towards him. There was such comfort in the touch of his body against hers that she wanted to stay there for ever. She didn't need to think of anything now, she was safe.

  Then she felt him trying to ease her away from him, and she knew why. He was worried for her, thinking that she didn't know what she was doing. That later she would regret this.

  Not true. She tightened her own grip on him, wouldn't release him. And she muttered, 'You're not to let me go now. Please, Tom, I need you.'

  So for a while they stood there, happy simply to kiss. It couldn't last. She felt the growing tension in him, it matched her own feelings. Her fatigue had mysteriously disappeared, to be replaced by energy and a flaring demand in her that had to be satisfied.

  Without saying anything, they moved to his bedroom and within seconds both were naked.

  It was an act of desperation and of joy, an affirmation of life. There was little time for gentleness, she dragged him to her as if afraid that this chance of bliss might disappear. She was conscious only of her own frantic need for him.

  She became aware that his excitement matched hers. She opened herself to him, wrapped her arms around him and held him, screamed his name as together they hurtled towards a joint climax that seemed to go on and on and on so that she was lost in a maelstrom of pure sensation.

  Then, panting, still hot with passion, they lay side by side. And Maria just couldn't help it, she burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around her again, cradled her to him like a child. His voice was anguished. 'Maria, sweetheart, what is it?'

  'Not your fault,' she sobbed. 'It's my fault. Being with you has been so wonderful and you couldn't have been kinder. No one's ever been so kind to me before. We've got now, and that's all important. So, please, just hold me, and soon I'll be all right.'

  So he held her. And after a while she slept.

  Perhaps she should have expected it, it had been such a frightening day. She had the nightmare again. There was that feeling of powerlessness, that scene of horror, the awful knowledge that there was nothing that she could do about things; As ever, she woke up panting and moaning, her body soaked with sweat. But this time it was different. There was someone in bed with her. In fact, someone who woke her before her dream came to its horrible end.

  'You were crying out,' Tom said. 'You scared me. I wondered what was wrong.'

  'It was a nightmare,' she said. 'Sometimes I have them. About my child. I'll be all right now I know I'm here with you. Now, hold me and I'll go back to sleep.'

  Once again he wrapped his arms around her. And to her surprise, she did sleep.

  She woke up first. Her hand was lying on Tom's naked chest and under it she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. She lay there thinking, remembering the ecstasy of last night and the happiness of just being with him. She wished she could stay there, see what the day brought. But she knew that she dare not, it was all too much, too soon. She was afraid of the commitment, didn't know how she'd cope with James. It was time to climb back inside her shell. But she felt sad.

  She managed to slide out of bed without waking Tom, pulled on the dressing-gown, crept downstairs in the dark and made two mugs of tea. And when she came back he was sitting up in bed, the bedside light on. She gave him his tea, sat on a chair at the end of the bed.

  'You could get back into bed,' he said.

  'That's too good an idea. If I got back into bed with you, I think I'd never leave.' Then she shook herself.

  That was not the message she had ,to give. As well to be brutal from the start.

  'Tom, last night was a mistake. It was all my fault. I'm sorry.'

  Just for once his usual calmness deserted him and she saw hurt and surprise on his face. But she hurried on, 'It may have been a mistake but last night was wonderful. I'll never forget how...how kind you were to me. I needed comfort and you gave it to me.'

  'There was more than giving comfort between us,' he said. 'And I'm not into one-night stands. I didn't think you were either.'

  'It just happened,' she said.

  'Things like that don't just happen, Maria,' he said gently. 'They happen because two people want them to.'

  Just for a moment Maria was tempted. Perhaps they could work things out, perhaps there could be some kind of a future for them. But then she remembered the words he had just used.

  'I once had a chance at happiness,' she said. 'Everything was right with my world. I had a job I liked, some prospect Of promotion and my life revolved round my child. Then he was taken away from me. And I vowed that I'd never be hostage to fortune again.'

  'I can understand that. Perhaps I feel the same way. This is a change from last night when we were both so happy.'

  'And there's James,' she said. 'Like I said, he's a lovely little boy. But each time I see him I'm torn apart because he's not someone else. He's riot my son but I
can see my James in him and it tortures me.'

  'In time perhaps you—'

  'In time! I'm talking about now!'

  Tom sighed. 'Let's have a peaceful breakfast together. Then...'

  'Then will you take me home,' she said.

  She told him that she'd like another bath, the smell of the smoke and the fire was still in her hair. So he went downstairs and cooked breakfast. He wasn't sure what he was going to do next—but he had a growing feeling of panic. He felt he might be about to lose something of inestimable value. But also he was afraid of reaching for it. It was possible to overreach.

  Both seemed to think the time for high emotion was over. They ate breakfast together companionably and then she told him that she'd like him to take her back to the clinic as she had left her car there.

  In spite of his protests she dressed again in her smoke-smelling uniform. 'I'll bathe again as soon as I get back,' she told him. 'And I'll wash these. There's no way I'm going to arrive at the nurses' home wearing your tracksuit. It would be a bit too obvious.'

  She looked out of the window. 'And it's raining. No one will notice that my uniform's filthy.'

  'Whatever you want. We'll go as soon as you're ready.' He wanted her to stay a while longer, but realised that she needed to get back to her own place.

  And he was unsure himself of how to react. Last night they had been so close. He didn't want to lose that closeness, didn't want to scare her off by saying the wrong thing.

  'I think you're a nice man,' she said as he drove her back for her car. 'We'll work well together from now on. But will you, please, do something for me? Forget what happened last night?'

  'That would be impossible. But I'll do what I can not to upset you,' he said. He thought that was suitably inconclusive.

  At the clinic she kissed him quickly on the cheek and then ran through the rain to her own car. He waited until it was out of sight, then sighed.

  Soon Tom was back home. He went to his bedroom. It smelt, ever so slightly, of her. He made the bed, lay on it and thought. His thoughts got him nowhere.