The Midwife And The Single Dad

by Gill Sanderson

  Now she had been forced into a decision after less than two months. And she wasn’t ready yet! Did she want to stay or not? She had to make up her mind.

  Perhaps it was a good thing but there was no chance of seeing Ben that day. He was spending the day giving a series of talks to the local school. But she knew when he was finishing, and when she knew he’d be free, she phoned him.

  ‘Ben, I’ve got a problem, May I come over and talk to you later?’

  ‘Of course you can.’ She could hear the concern in his voice and love for him flared inside her for a moment. He went on, ‘Anything serious? Anything I should know about now? Is it one of your or my patients?’

  ‘It’s not a patient. I don’t want to talk over the phone, it’s personal and I think we ought to be face to face.’

  He paused before answering and there was a change in his tone when he spoke again. He sounded wary. ‘Personal? OK, Alice. Would you like to come to tea with me and Fiona? Just something simple, I’m cooking. Mrs McCann is out for the evening.’

  ‘No. I’d like to come to see you when Fiona’s in bed. I’ve…got things to do before then. Well, things to consider.’

  Another pause. ‘Right, then. I’ll see you when I see you.’ He rang off.

  She hadn’t handled that very well, she thought.

  She was going out to visit him only for an hour or so…she supposed. But she wanted to look her best. She felt that looking smart would add to her confidence—but what she had to be confident about, she didn’t know. Still, she put on dark trousers, a vaguely see-through blouse, a matching blue jacket that she knew suited her colouring. She read through the letter again, tucked it into her pocket and set off.

  As she drove to Taighean dhe Gaoithe she remembered when she had come to stay with Ben. How she had been both shy and slightly frightened—but still wondering what her stay there might bring. Only a handful of weeks ago. How things had changed!

  She looked at the colours of moors, sea and sky. She thought of them as quiet colours—if colours could have a noise. But the colours had grown on her. This land was her birthright, she wanted to stay here.

  But how could she stay? Not on her own, that was certain. Her life had been half destroyed by Sean. She felt she had regained much of her former strength, but she wasn’t having it half destroyed again by another man who… What did he want?

  She drove to the front of Taighean dhe Gaoithe, braking harder than usual and rattling the pebbles. Obviously Ben had been waiting for her as he appeared out of the front door at once. She felt that little jerk of excitement that always came when she saw him again. Even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d seen him last. What was he doing to her?

  As always, he had changed from his formal medical outfit and was now in a dark T-shirt and light chinos. He looked a picture of relaxation, looked wonderfully masculine and entirely… Stop it!

  ‘Alice? Is everything all right? I felt a bit worried after your call.’

  His obvious concern only made things worse. But she managed a smile—although a brittle one—and said, ‘I’ve got a letter to show you. I need advice, I’m not sure what to do.’

  Then a sudden terrible thought struck her. ‘You didn’t know about this, did you? Didn’t know and didn’t tell me—didn’t warn me? That would have been a betrayal!’

  Mildly, he said, ‘Since I don’t know what’s in the letter, I can’t tell you. But I can say that I’ve not had any letter about you recently and nothing would make me betray you in any way. Come on in, we’ll have a drink and you can tell me all about it.’

  I’m still not handling this well, she thought again.

  She followed him into the living room, sat where she could look out to sea. She accepted the whisky and water that he brought her, sat there and tried to calm herself.

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ Ben said. ‘Take your time. I can see that you’re upset.’

  He sat opposite her. For a moment she thought that he might sit next to her, reach out and stroke her hair. He had done it once or twice in the past. But he didn’t. Perhaps that was a good thing. She needed to be…not detached but neutral for a while.

  When she felt she was calm she took out the letter and handed it to him. ‘I received this this morning,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what to do about it.’

  She watched him read the letter, frown and then read it again. ‘It’s a fair letter,’ he said after a moment. ‘I can understand the trust’s point of view, not wanting to change midwives three times in a year. And obviously they are trying to be very fair to you. There’s a big hint that the job is yours if you want it.’

  ‘So what do you think I should do?’

  He sighed. ‘Well, I think that you’re a great midwife and children’s nurse, you’ve made a big impression here. We’d all be very sad to see you go. But you have your career to think of, and what the trust has offered would be a step upwards.’

  ‘So you think I should consider going in the interests of my career? Not consider applying for the full-time job here?’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘Alice, since you came here you’ve been insisting that this was only a temporary job. A chance to get your breath back, to recover from what was obviously a very painful experience. Didn’t you mean it?’

  ‘Oh, I meant it.’

  She sipped her whisky, hoped that he wouldn’t notice her trembling hand. There was just one more thing she could say and still hold onto her dignity. ‘Of course, you’re right. I only came here as a temporary measure. There isn’t really anything to keep me in Soalay, is there? I could easily leave at the end of the month.’

  Her last hope. Now was when he could say that she had to stay, Soalay was now her home. He and Fiona needed her—there was no need of promises or plans for the future, just that she had to stay. She realised that this was why she had come, to hear those words.

  But she didn’t hear them. There was a long pause. ‘We’d all be very sorry to see you go. But if you have to…’

  So that was that. Her hopes, dreams, all smashed. In a remarkably casual voice she said, ‘So that’s settled. I’ll write this evening and say I’m willing to leave Soalay as quickly as the trust wants me to.’

  When Ben spoke his voice was hoarse. ‘It’s not my place to offer advice, but I’d like to suggest that you don’t write at once. Wait a while. Give it a couple of weeks—that’s the time they’ve given you. Who knows what might happen to make you change your mind?’

  ‘I don’t think anything will happen to make me change my mind,’ she said, ‘but, yes, I’ll do as you say.’

  She stood. ‘No need to see me out, Ben. I know the way. I’ll just pop my head round Fiona’s bedroom door to look at her.’ And she left him, closing the living room door on him.

  Ben sat motionless in his chair, listening. He heard Alice’s footsteps, could trace where they went to Fiona’s bedroom, could imagine the door opening, perhaps even heard it creak. Silence for a moment and he pictured her leaning over the little bed, knew that she would straighten the bedclothes, kiss his daughter on the forehead. Then more footsteps, the click of the front door closing. And an over-revved engine and the crunch of gravel as she drove away.

  He sighed. A desolate thought struck him—this could have been the last time Alice ever visited Taighean dhe Gaoithe. After so many happy times—what a memory she must take away!

  He reached for the whisky bottle, poured himself a generous measure. He took a sip—and then poured half the contents of the glass back into the bottle. No problem was ever eased by drinking too much. He had seen too many patients who thought that it could.

  He knew why Alice had come, knew what she had been asking him. She wanted him to say that he needed her to stay. And he hadn’t said it. He had hurt Alice so much. Also he knew that without Alice around, Fiona would hurt too. And he was hurting himself—a detached part of his mind marvelled at how much he was hurting. What kind of fool would do something like this to h
imself?

  It had been done delicately, but she had challenged him. If you want me then you must ask me to stay. Otherwise I will go. That was typical of her. He knew how tough-minded she could be, how determined to sort out a problem no matter what the cost might be.

  He hadn’t asked her to stay. Now he wondered if this had been cowardice on his part.

  Had he made the right decision? Life with Alice could be so good, they could be a happy family of three—perhaps four or five in time. But then he remembered Melissa, his first marriage. No way was he going to risk a repetition of that. Better to be cautious. Be safe rather than risk being sorry.

  But he was giving up so much.

  Alice drove home somehow but had no recollection of the trip the next morning. She had a bath, a warm drink and then went straight to bed. She slept at once. It had always been this way in the past. If there was too much emotion, too much strain, after a while the body just cut off. She needed to sleep.

  She slept well but woke quite early in the morning. This often happened, she loved the screaming of the gulls and the light through her curtains. Mysteriously, she felt quite calm. She thought about her visit to Ben the night before. Had she made a fool of herself? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. But whatever she had offered he had refused. He wouldn’t ask her to stay. Well, he was entitled to make up his own mind.

  Did she think he might change his mind? Was there still hope for her? Was that why he had asked her to wait for a fortnight before writing to the trust? She thought not. Ben had always been capable of making up his own mind. He didn’t make important decisions lightly, but when he did he stuck by them. Alice remembered how she had felt about men when she’d come to Soalay, how she’d been so determined never to let a man into her life again. She should have been like Ben and stuck to her decision.

  But now it was time to get up. She had a job to do.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HER day was quiet, which surprised her. She carried on with her ordinary work. It seemed odd that everything was so normal when her life had changed so radically the night before. And it had changed, she knew that. A set of half-realised hopes and dreams had been blown away, like the early morning mist on the mountaintops behind her. It would be a different life from now on. But that life had to go on.

  At lunchtime there was something that she knew she had to do. She phoned Ben and asked if she could come over, there were a couple of things they had to consider. There was a child she wanted him to go out and visit and the suggestion of a talk to the pregnant mothers’ group.

  ‘Sure, come straight over,’ Ben said. After a moment’s hesitation he added, ‘Have you time for a quick coffee?’

  ‘I’d love one. But it’ll really have to be quick. I’ve got a lot on this afternoon.’ She didn’t add that she didn’t know just how long she could bear to be near him and pretend that nothing had happened.

  But she knew that for a while she would have to work with him, have to be near him. Better get the first meeting over quickly. So she went over and they discussed problems like the old friends and colleagues that they were. Nothing was said about the night before—though she could detect wariness in his eyes. Well, they could manage like this. They could talk to each other when it was necessary.

  She didn’t see him at all over the next two days. Sometimes it happened like this and they were never at the same place at the same time. And sometimes they never seemed to stop bumping into each other. But now…two days… Was he deliberately avoiding her? She didn’t think so. Anyway, perhaps it was a good thing not to see too much of him, perhaps not necessary to see him. And the moment she thought this she knew what rubbish it was. If anything, she now missed him more than ever.

  On the third day the weather matched her mood. Dark skies in the early morning, the first expected rattle of rain soon after that. And it went on and on. Just steady, unremitting rain. It wasn’t a storm, there was no wind. But it seemed as if it would rain for ever. Well this was Soalay weather. It had happened before.

  Alice had a clinic that afternoon but few people turned up. This was a day for staying at home and hoping that things would be better in the morning. Besides, the roads were impossible to walk down, the water overran the gutters, flooded across the pavements. Alice tidied her work room, caught up on her paperwork, stared dully out of the windows.

  In the middle of the afternoon, a bit of excitement—a message from Ben by way of his receptionist to hers. He would be out at the far, hilly side of the island for most of the rest of the day. He had been called to an accident. A car had skidded into a ravine and three people were badly injured. His surgery was cancelled. Alice shivered.

  So, a dreary day with little to do. Perhaps tomorrow would be better, she’d have an early night and… She should have known better. Her phone rang.

  A male voice, anxious, almost panicking. ‘Midwife Muir? This is Malcolm Reay—you know, husband of Eleanor Reay over on Calvay Island? You’ve got to come, Eleanor has had a fall and she thinks the baby’s coming. I can’t bring her ’cos my car’s at the garage and there’s nobody here in the other cottages.’

  ‘Malcolm! Calm down. First of all, how badly is Eleanor hurt?’

  ‘She slipped on the front step in the rain. Her chest is bruised and she’s cut her head. But she was shocked and that seems to have started things off early.’

  ‘Why exactly does she think the baby’s coming? Go and ask her.’

  She heard muttering for a moment and then Malcolm returned and said, ‘The waters have broken. And she’s getting contractions.’

  ‘Time them. How far apart are they?’

  More mumbling, then, ‘She says they’re every ten minutes.’

  ‘Right. Now, is she losing blood?’

  ‘No. Well, just from her head. And she says that she doesn’t think she hurt the baby when she fell. It was just the shock of the fall that started it.’

  ‘Right, that should give us some time. I’ll set off now. Until then, keep her warm and comfortable. You know how to treat people for shock?’

  ‘I know how to treat people for shock. I’ve been on a good first-aid course for men who work at sea. But it didn’t cover delivering babies.’

  ‘Just tell her you love her. That’ll help no end. And I’m on my way.’

  Alice stood a minute in thought. Eleanor Reay was now in week thirty-six—a four-week premature birth wasn’t ideal but shouldn’t present any real problems. And Eleanor had been a good mother-to-be, was strong, had shown no signs of any problems. It had only been a week since Alice had last visited her and had been enraptured by the new pictures Eleanor had drawn.

  If there was time and she thought it possible, she would bring Eleanor back to the birthing unit. If it wasn’t possible then Eleanor would have her home birth. Alice always had a full kit in her car, no problem there. All she needed to collect was her own wet-weather gear.

  She phoned Ben’s surgery number, left a message on his answering-machine, trying to keep her voice neutral. ‘Hi, Ben, Alice here. It’s half past six, I’m driving over to Calvay Island. Eleanor Reay has had a fall and gone into labour early. I might have to deliver at her home. I’ve got my mobile with me, if there are any problems I’ll phone you. In fact, I’ll report progress anyway. But don’t worry, I don’t expect any trouble. I’ll probably be there overnight. Bye.’ That should do, she thought.

  Then she set off. They were the worst driving conditions she had ever been out in—worse even than when she and Ben had nearly fallen off the bridge into the stream. And then Ben had been driving. Now it was her turn. The one consolation was that there were few other vehicles on the roads. Everyone else had more sense.

  Water was streaming across the road and her front wheels sent two great waves curving away on each side. She was glad of the height of her vehicle, glad of the four-wheel-drive. But she didn’t feel safe and she didn’t feel happy. She wished she hadn’t had to come out.

  As she got further into the countryside, th
e conditions got worse. Memories of her childhood crash came back to her, of being underwater. She sobbed quietly.

  She didn’t want to be out on her own, in weather like this. She wanted to be back in her own clinic. Perhaps Eleanor was really OK and she could come out in the morning. Stop thinking that way!

  This could be much, much worse. Take things easy and all would be well. She pressed on.

  And then she got to the causeway across to Calvay Island. And she realised what she had been doing. Somehow she had stopped herself thinking, had hidden the knowledge that this would be the worst, the most dangerous bit of the journey. But now she knew it. It was obvious.

  She braked, stopped, looked through the greyness of the rain. It was high tide. And what made it worse was that the channel was narrow, and the rainwater and the streams feeding onto the channel had made the tide even higher. Waves were breaking right over the causeway.And some of the causeway seemed to have crumbled and slipped in the sea! She couldn’t cross this!

  She’d have to wait. Perhaps go and find someone to take her across, someone with a better vehicle, who had more experience, who knew what they were doing. But as she looked she knew that was impossible. There was no one near. And Eleanor couldn’t wait. And this was a first birth, it couldn’t be handled by Malcolm. Eleanor needed a midwife, someone who knew what she was doing. Alice had to try to get across.

  Sobbing, she let the car inch forward. Slowly, very slowly. It was hard because with the water washing across the narrow surface it was often almost impossible to see what was causeway and what was the sea. Once or twice she felt the wheels lose traction, felt the car slip to the side, but somehow she managed to correct it. She was getting there. She was progressing.