A Child To Call Her Own

by Gill Sanderson

  The coffee and brandy were poured. Maria saw Tom sip the brandy, raise his eyebrows. She sipped herself. The drink managed to be both smooth and fiery. Obviously the manager's bottle.

  'So what did you do when you left us?' John asked.

  'I trained to be a midwife. I work for Tom here, we look after women having babies and women with neonates.'

  'I see.' Maria saw John glance at Tom, and then back to her. 'You've made yourself a home back in the UK? You wouldn't want to work out here again?'

  'Probably not.'

  'A pity. I'm manager now of all the firm's hotels on this side of the island. I could offer you a job. Tom, would you be willing to release her?'

  'She's mine,' said Tom cheerfully.

  The two men were joking, of course.

  'Well, the offer's there. Maria, I almost didn't recognise you with short hair. I remember it down to your shoulders.'

  Maria shrugged. 'Just a change in style,' she said.

  'I had it cut as soon as I got back to England. This length is more convenient. Tell me more about this job, John.'

  'We want someone to supervise kiddie reps. The person in charge would be responsible for all our hotels on the island—that's now a couple of dozen. It's a full-time job, there'll be a car and a villa provided, of course, and the pay would be generous. Very generous. And I think you'd be ideal for the job.'

  Maria glanced at Tom. As ever, his face was inscrutable. Why couldn't he help her? Just a sentence or two saying that he needed her, that would do. But he said nothing. 'When would this job start?' she asked.

  'At least before the beginning of the holiday season. We're flexible, we're willing to wait for the right person. If you're interested, just let me know. You could start as early or as late as you liked.'

  She wasn't really interested but she said, 'I'll be in touch in a week or so to let you know.'

  'No hurry,' said John.

  There Was a sucking noise from -the table. James had just come to the end of his drink. 'That was very nice,' he said.

  'I think,' Tom said, 'that you're a tired little boy. We'd better get you to bed.' He stood, offered his hand to John. 'Good to have met you,' he said. He added to Maria, 'If you'll excuse us, we'll see you over breakfast. You stay here and chat with your old friend.'

  Quickly, Maria said, 'I'm tired, too. I'll be soon for bed. But is it all right if I call in in about ten minutes to say goodnight to James?'

  'Of course,' Tom said. 'Come on, James.'

  There was time for a few more minutes' chat with John. It was good to see him again, good to go over the good times that she'd had on the island. But after ten minutes she yawned and said she just had to go to bed. John accepted it quite happily.

  In fact, James was already asleep when she tapped quietly on the door. But both Tom and herself knew that coming to see James had just been an excuse. Tom let her in, led her through the bedroom to the tiny lounge that looked out onto a balcony and then over the sea. They sat on a wicker couch, side by side in the semi-darkness.

  'Seems a very nice chap, John Kersh,' Tom said, elaborately casual. 'A good man to work for.'

  'He was good to work for and he was a friend to me. When I was here I went out with him a couple of times, just casually. But that was all. I was glad to see him again. But I have absolutely no wish to rekindle any kind of relationship. Because there never was one.'

  'Good. But why are you telling me this?'

  'Because it's something I want you to know. And you wanted to know. Didn't you, Tom?'

  'I've got no rights about who your friends are. But, yes, I did want to know.'

  He stretched his hand out, ran a finger down the side of her head, stroking her hair. It was a gentle caress, but she loved it. And she sensed that things were easier between them.

  'There's a question,' he said. 'John said you had long hair, down to your shoulders. Why did you have it cut short?'

  'You can guess the answer,' she said after a while. 'It was some kind of penance. And...James's hair dropped out so I felt I had to...'

  'Now you know there's no need to be penitent. So will you let it grow again?'

  'Yes,' she said. 'I think I will.'

  He kissed her then. A soft, a gentle kiss. His arm slid round her back, he pulled her to him and their lips met very delicately. That was more than enough. To begin with. But then she felt his breathing deepen, felt something stir inside her that responded to him. His hold on her tightened. And at that moment there came a plaintive voice. 'Daddy...are you there?'

  'He'll go to sleep in a minute,' Tom whispered to her. 'You can stay a while longer. We're still on holiday.'

  It was an invitation that she would have loved to accept, but she shook her head. It would be too dangerous. 'We should go to sleep as well, Tom. This has been a long day and I've done and felt things that I thought were lost to me. But now I need to sleep.'

  'I won't sleep. I'll think about you.'

  She kissed him quickly. And as he moved to his son's bedside, she slipped out of the door.

  He had been right when he'd said that he wouldn't sleep. As had happened so many times recently, his thoughts were in a turmoil. What should he do about Maria? Since she'd come to the clinic, his emotional life had been in chaos.

  He had not been happy when she'd first come into his life. The memory of Jane had been too painful, even after four years. But with James he had worked out a pattern of living so that things hadn't been too bad. Then he'd met Maria. He had offered her a commitment that he'd never thought to offer again—and she'd rejected him. He had said that he was starting to love her and she had said that it was something he shouldn't say. Fair enough, perhaps. She'd had her reasons and she'd explained them. But then he'd begun to doubt her. When he'd seen how well she'd got on with James, he'd wondered if her phobia about children had only been a convenient excuse. She just didn't care for him that way.

  They'd come on holiday together just as friends. They had slept together, on an afternoon that he knew he would never forget. But she'd been careful to tell him that this was a holiday—it meant there was no commitment.

  And then there was John Kersh. Maria had said he was just a good friend, and Tom believed that she believed that was true. But he had seen a look in the man's eye. John Kersh was besotted by Maria. Maria obviously quite liked him. And now he, Tom, was jealous.

  Tom was lost. Perhaps the best thing to do was distance himself from her. It was all too painful.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was on the plane going back that it finally happened. James was in the window seat, Maria in the middle and Tom by the aisle, where on occasion he could stretch out his long legs. James gazed out of the window.

  But they didn't talk, they were content to sit. So much to think about. And it was in one of the quiet moments that it struck her. She loved Tom Ramsey. A proper, a true love. It wasn't just that she was attracted to him, it wasn't just that she liked his company, this was a real love that could stretch on for ever. The realisation came as a bit of a shock.

  She should have known. Only yesterday she had given herself to him more fully than she had thought possible. But she'd not thought of the future. She'd told him that this was a holiday romance, that it would have no consequences. She had deceived him and also herself.

  For over four years her life had been ruled by a sadness and fear out of her past, something that had made her flinch from much normal human contact. Now that fear had gone. She was free. And she loved Tom Ramsey.

  So what did he feel for her? She wasn't certain. One thing she did know was that Tom would always want to do the right thing. And because they had been lovers, perhaps he would feel obliged...she didn't want him to feel obliged. Whatever feelings he had for her, she wanted them to be free, untrammelled by thoughts of what he ought to do.

  He didn't know it but it wasn't a good time for him to interrupt her thoughts. She was still perplexed, not sure of what she wanted or how to get it. So she was t
hrown a little when a gentle voice beside her said, 'You're frowning, looking very thoughtful. If there's a problem, can I help you with it?'

  She couldn't tell him what she really had been thinking. So she said, without considering the consequences, 'I was wondering about yesterday. About our holiday romance.'

  He took a great breath, expelled it. 'I've been thinking about that, too,' he said eventually. 'After yesterday things are different. I feel that you are owed—'

  That had been the wrong thing to say. She was instantly angry. 'Tom, I'm owed nothing! I told you that that was a holiday romance, that there was no commitment. And I meant it.'

  'It's just that I feel...'

  She glanced to her side. James was asleep but it would be only too easy to wake him. 'We can't talk about something like this on a plane, with your son sitting by my side,' she whispered frantically. 'But perhaps we ought to settle a few things. When can we meet?'

  'Wednesday evening. Jeanette, the lady who'll be looking after James, has to go to a school concert of some kind. Would you like to come round?'

  'I'll come round after she's gone and James is asleep,' said Maria.

  Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday work went on as usual. This surprised Maria. The stay in Majorca had changed her life completely. Why weren't other people affected by the change? But they weren't. For them the world hadn't altered. So she ran her clinics, saw the patients who came to see her individually and waited for Wednesday evening.

  Their secret—if it was a secret—soon came out in the clinic. James told everybody in the crèche that he had been away to Majorca with Maria and Daddy. Well, it was to be expected. But no one commented, there were no snide remarks. Not that Maria would have cared if there had been. But if anything, the staff at the clinic seemed to be pleased.

  And finally it was Wednesday evening. She waited until she was certain that James would be asleep, then went to Tom's house.

  It was all right to kiss him when she got inside the house. They were friends, good friends. But it was she who gently eased him away. He had to make the first move.

  'Come into the living room, Maria. I'll make some tea.'

  He made the tea, didn't sit by her on the couch but took a seat opposite her. They were face to face. And his face was troubled.

  'You look as if you're going to give me some bad news,' he said.

  She had thought hard about this. She wanted him so much. But he had to be given every chance to make sure that anything he said was really, honestly, genuinely felt. She wanted no truck with his foolish ideas about honour or the right thing to do. He had to want her for herself.

  'Not bad news,' she said. 'First I want to tell you that last week, when we made love, was wonderful and I'll never forget it. But I think it has to stop now. That was a holiday, this is the real world and to be lovers now just wouldn't do. We're back to where we were before, Tom, working together, being friends, but that's all.'

  Somehow she managed to paste an insincere smile on her face. Desperately she hoped that he'd realise that she didn't mean it, that under this hard exterior was a softness that was meant only for him. He could argue with her, try to persuade her to change her mind. And she would change it.

  But she had to give him that chance. And she remembered how, after they had made love for the first time and she had told him about her fears over James, he had been cold to her.

  'So we're friends and nothing more?'

  'We're friends. We work together.'

  'Well, I suppose that's something,' he said. 'But I don't think it's entirely possible. Maria, we've been so close—you can't just forget about things like that. And you certainly can't ignore them. You either have to move on to some kind of long-term affair or you back off. And apparently you want to back off.'

  'Probably the best thing,' Maria said. 'What do you think?' She fought to keep her voice casual, to make him think that she didn't much care whatever he decided. But it was hard.

  He sighed. 'I guess it's friends, then,' he said, 'if that's what you want. You're not drinking your tea.'

  For half an hour Tom sat in his living room, staring at the two cups of tea he had poured but seeing nothing.

  After telling him that they were friends and nothing more, Maria had seemed to lose interest in drinking tea. In fact, she hadn't been able to get out of his house quickly enough. She had mumbled some excuse, almost run to the door.

  Well, if she didn't want to stay with him, she didn't have to. But he just couldn't believe it. When they had made love it had been so much more than sheer animal passion. He had felt that when they were together that she was giving herself, her soul as well as her body. And he had wanted, had tried to do the same. It had been magic. And now this cold rejection. Friends who work together indeed!

  Tom sighed. As well as a deep sadness, he felt a little anger. How could Maria give herself so completely and then say it was a holiday romance?

  Perhaps she'd had holiday romances before? But he knew that thought was unworthy of him. He went and poured himself a brandy.

  * * *

  Maria had been—still was—happy in her little room in the nurses' home. She had added bits to the basic hospital furniture—a bright bedcover and cushions, pictures on the wall, the corkboard covered with postcards and photographs. It was homely. But as she returned there that night, she realised it was not enough.

  She wanted a comfortable home like Tom's. She wanted a kitchen she could experiment in, not one she had to share. She wanted a large bedroom with a double bed, a living room with a real—well, nearly real— fire. Most of all, she realised, she wanted to go home to a family. To be greeted by someone who lived there and who loved her. The girls in the home were a good bunch, they were friends and they got on well together. But they were a poor substitute for a family.

  Maria made herself the tea that Tom had made but she had not drunk. Probably because she had left so abruptly. Then she sat to think. Perhaps for the second time, her life seemed to be in ruins. Well, she would survive. She had done so before. What it would be like working for him, she just didn't know.

  However, their first meeting after that passed well. Just a casual greeting in the corridor. 'I didn't drink my cup of tea last night,' she said cheerfully, 'No matter, I'll have it next time.'

  'Yes,' he said hesitantly. 'Sorry. Any time.'

  Maria smiled as she walked on. She had thrown him—it wasn't the reaction he had expected. Well, a bit of uncertainty might do him good.

  An ante-natal clinic first. No real problems. Some mums-to-be suffering from backache, some from digestive problems, some from sleeplessness. But all of them healthy and all of them looking forward to the birth with hope and pleasure. Sometimes she thought that being a midwife was the best job in medicine.

  In the afternoon there was a post-natal clinic. This was another joyous assembly, but in quite a different way. The mums—not mums-to-be any more—had more to talk about.

  Only when the second clinic was finished did she look over her records and frown. It was some time since she had seen Tracy McGee. She remembered that the girl had signed herself out of hospital after her partner had caused trouble in the ward.

  She knew that Tracy must need help. She also knew that Tom had told her that they shouldn't interfere— that Tracy must be allowed to live her own life, make her own decisions. Well too bad. Tracy was going to get help whether she—or Tom—wanted it or not.

  She knew, of course, that to a certain extent her actions were caused by an urge to get even with Tom, to prove to him that he wasn't always right. But Tracy did need help.

  'Just going to make a local house call,' she said to Molly. She didn't, as she should have done, write down where she was going. She'd fill in the sheet when she returned.

  The outside of the tower block was depressing. Rubbish blew all over, there were two burnt-out cars nearby. Tracy decided to drive past and park some distance away. Her car would be safer.

  She grew even more doubtf
ul when she entered the block. Graffiti was everywhere, even more rubbish piled up and a number of unpleasant smells. And the lifts didn't work. She stood for a moment and thought. She didn't have to do this. But then she set off to climb the stairs.

  The next problem was finding Tracy's exact flat. Just which of these doors was hers? An older, careworn-looking lady came down the stairs towards her. Maria said, 'I'm a midwife. I'm looking for Tracy McGee. Do you know which is her flat?'

  The woman pointed at a door but then seemed worried. She surveyed Maria in her neat uniform, looked at the bag she was carrying. 'You don't want to go in there alone,' she whispered. 'Her fella—he can get a bit awkward at times. But don't say I told you.' Then she hurried on downwards.

  Maria felt even less happy. But she'd come so far. Still...she took out her mobile phone, quickly tapped in the number of the clinic. 'I'm about to call at number 507 Dorian Towers,' she told Molly. 'It's the flat with the big black stain on the door. I'm calling on Tracy McGee. If I don't ring back in an hour, tell Tom, will you?'

  'Maria, you shouldn't go there on your own. Wait until—'

  'I'll be fine,' Maria said, and rang off. But she didn't feel fine.

  She banged on the door. Someone inside shouted something—probably unpleasant—but the door wasn't opened. So she banged again. 'Midwife to see Tracy McGee,' she called through the letterbox. This time the door was opened.

  He looked just as she had feared. Dirty clothes, unshaven, a roll-up cigarette in his mouth and a definite smell—marihuana? 'Tracy don't want no midwife,' he said.

  'She'll be giving birth soon, she needs to be examined. Look Mr...Mr...?'

  'Lovett,' the man said.

  'Mr Lovett, Tracy wasn't in a good way when you took her from hospital. If you're not careful, she and baby could be in considerable difficulties.'

  'Difficulties?'

  'Probably everything is fine. I'd like to find out. But there are dangers.'

  The man appeared to consider. 'She is a bit poorly,' he said. 'But we're not going back to that hospital. I didn't like the way they treated me, as if I wasn't good enough for them. Come in, she's been asking for someone.'