A Doctor to Come Home to

by Gill Sanderson

  She took a breath. That was the barest of outlines. Now came the hard part.

  ‘I married a man called Paul Harding. His nickname was Golden Boy because he had this lovely blond hair, and on my wedding day I was so happy I was delirious. But...it didn’t work out. He turned out not to be the man I thought I was marrying. But we kept up appearances, pretended to be happy. I suppose I had my pride. We had a new house full of new furniture and people thought we were a golden couple. But people just didn’t know what he was like!’

  She knew that her voice was rising; the emotion that she tried to keep suppressed was breaking through. She paused, and he reached out a hand and stroked her back. ‘Nice and easy,’ he said. ‘There’s no hurry.’

  She found it helped, she could go on. ‘After three years’ misery I’d had enough. I had a one-year-old daughter by this time. So I told him that I was going to divorce him. I’d given all I had, made all the allowances I could, I just couldn’t take any more. That was two years ago. He celebrated it by getting very drunk and nearly killing someone in a road accident. But he also nearly killed himself. Not quite, though. It was a pity really.’

  That disturbed Adam. He looked at her, obviously surprised. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you were a bitter, vengeful person,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t understand. He didn’t die, but he wasn’t living either. His body was alive but his brain was dead—a persistent vegetative state, they call it. No hope ever of a recovery. For two years he lay unconscious and I visited him three times a week—I don’t know why. Then three months ago he died.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘If that’s what love, romance is, keep me away from it. I’ll never trust another man as long as I live.’

  He nodded, leaned over to take her hand and squeeze it. Then, quickly, he let go. But she had liked the momentary contact, felt her heart lurch at his warmth. She waited a moment. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ she said. ‘First of all, where do you work?’

  ‘At the moment I don’t. I am—or was—a GP and I love the work. I was a partner in a practice near Bristol, happily married to a gorgeous girl, the daughter of a local rich farmer. We had baby Johanne practically at once. My wife was supposed to be some kind of a vet’s assistant, but she did very little. Like you, I thought we were happy. Then things soured. She got bored with married life in the country. I had an offer to go to America to train to be a hospital doctor. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t take it up.’

  ‘How were things between her and Johanne? Wasn’t she happy to be a mother?’

  He shrugged. ‘Johanne was a toy for her. She alternated between not being able to do enough for her baby and leaving all the care to some nanny she’d employed. Perhaps that’s why Johanne is so mixed up now. And she certainly didn’t want any more children, though I did. Any thing... physical between us soon disappeared.’

  ‘Do you think any of this was your fault?’

  He grinned at her. ‘Don’t mind asking awkward questions, do you? Well, yes, I suppose it was. I was working very hard and I thought that things would sort themselves out. I now realise that I missed out an awful lot on Johanne’s early years. We saw too little of each other and sometimes I now think of the good times I could have had with her—and I didn’t.’

  ‘I know how doctors work,’ Amy said feelingly. ‘The good ones often try to do too much. But what happened then?’

  ‘After a time things did get easier, she seemed more content. Only later did I find out that she was seeing an older, much richer man.’

  ‘Been in that situation,’ said Amy. ‘Not nice, is it?’

  ‘Not nice at all. But in time she persuaded him to marry her, and told me she wanted a divorce. However, he didn’t want someone else’s daughter. I was very happy with this. I negotiated a settlement that gave me complete custody of Johanne. And I’m doing my very best to give her what her mother never did.’

  Amy was horrified at what she had just heard. She thought of Elizabeth and her feelings for her daughter. How could anyone give away their own child? Then she thought of what Adam had said last.

  ‘You’re trying to give Johanne what her mother never did?’ she said. ‘What exactly is that?’

  ‘Well, love,’ he said. ‘And certainty. It sounds so simple, but it’s not. I’m not sure I’m doing the right things. But nothing will stop me trying. Most of the time she’s fine. Just occasionally she seems to get things wrong—and then we fight.’

  Amy wondered if this was the right attitude, but decided to say nothing. She felt so much for this honest but troubled man. He deserved better!

  He went on. ‘I’ve given up the practice and we’re having this holiday. It’s supposed to bring us together, but so far that hasn’t been tremendously successful. Then we’re going to Canada, to my brother’s for a few weeks. And then...who knows?’

  There was silence. Eventually, she said, ‘We’re both in a mess, aren’t we?’

  ‘Two troubled souls. But talking to you has made things a bit easier. What do we do now?’

  She thought. What did they do now? ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m scared and you’re scared.’

  ‘True.’ He said nothing for a moment and then waved his arm, encompassing the sky, the sea, the semi-tropical gardens around them. ‘This all doesn’t seem true. It’s a holiday, things happen that don’t happen in hard real life. Would you have told your story to a stranger if you had met him in Lissom?’

  ‘No. But now you don’t seem a stranger.’

  ‘Nor do you. Amy, we’re here for a fortnight. Four days have gone, ten to go and things are different here. Let’s see quite a bit of each other. Probably mostly with Johanne and Elizabeth, of course. We’ll not behave like young lunatics, this won’t be that kind of holiday romance. But we’ll see something of each other. OK?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. Then, not sure of where the impulse came from, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Now we’d better get back,’ she said.

  The four of them met at breakfast next day. Adam had hired a car and invited Amy and Elizabeth to go with Johanne and him across the island, where there was a popular beach he had been told about. Amy thought that would be a safe and pleasant way of spending time with him.

  Elizabeth took to Johanne at once—perhaps because Johanne wanted to play with her. Amy had wondered about how she would take to Adam—she didn’t see too many men. But Adam appeared instantly smitten with Elizabeth. When he was sure she wouldn’t mind, he lifted her over his head, told her she was a flying little girl and asked her to wave her arms. Elizabeth loved this and adored Adam at once.

  Adam had gone to some trouble that morning to buy a cassette of stories for four-year-olds in English. He played one as soon as they all got into the car. Elizabeth was entranced by this, especially as two of the stories she knew already. She’d never heard a story played on the car radio before. Amy thought it was a brilliant idea and decided to buy a selection when she got back home. She also thought that it showed what a thoughtful man Adam was.

  The sun beat down on them. In between leaving the air-conditioned car and reaching the beach, they had all got hot and sticky. There were rocks handy and they disappeared behind them to get changed.

  ‘Look at this,’ said Johanne as they reappeared. She was wearing a thick, rather unflattering costume. ‘It looks horrible. This is a school uniform for going into the water. I wanted to buy a bikini but Dad said, no, I was too young. And you look gorgeous.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with your dad,’ said Amy, ‘but it is really his choice.’

  In fact, she was feeling rather shy. The bikini that had seemed fine in the shop suddenly looked very revealing. So far, Adam hadn’t seen her in a swimsuit. She wondered what he would think.

  Adam was already in the water. The three of them ran down to the edge of the sea to where he was waiting for them, the sea washing round his thighs. Amy could hardly take her eyes off him. He looked great in swimming shorts and the muscles hinted at by
his usual clothes were revealed. She felt herself going warm. Not an ounce of fat, he had the body of a Greek god.

  Embarrassed by her thoughts, Amy turned to her daughter. She didn’t want to think about his body.

  Elizabeth was already quite a competent swimmer, but had only ever swum in swimming pools. The vastness of the sea—and the waves—both excited and scared her, so for a while she had all Amy’s attention. She heard a splashing behind her, felt the vibrations through the water, and Adam swam effortlessly past her. She was a good swimmer, but he was excellent.

  After a while he swam over to her and said to Elizabeth, ‘Would you like to come for a ride on a big fish?’

  ‘Yes!’ shouted Elizabeth. ‘Big fish! Big fish! Where’s the big fish?’

  ‘I’m a big fish and I’m going to take you for a ride. Now, get on my back and put your arms round my neck.’

  Elizabeth did as she was told. ‘She’ll be quite safe,’ Adam whispered to Amy, and set off, now swimming a sedate breast-stroke. Elizabeth was delighted. ‘Faster, big fish,’ she shouted. ‘Faster.’ Adam did his best to oblige.

  Elizabeth didn’t want to get off her big fish. But after ten minutes Amy thought that Adam should be given the chance to swim on his own and firmly collected Elizabeth. She noticed that Adam seemed as reluctant to stop as Elizabeth.

  They swam for perhaps an hour. She noticed that Adam kept a careful eye on all three of them. When they felt they’d had enough, they walked back up the beach, found an open-air shower and rinsed the salt off their bodies. Amy towelled her hair dry as best she could then tied it up in a scarf. It might not look elegant but who cared?

  Twenty minutes’ drive away they found a seaside town and managed to park in the shade of a giant tree. Good, the car would stay cool. Then they found an open-air cafe, ordered drinks and a seafood platter each. Swimming had given them an appetite.

  After a while, Amy said, amiably but directly, ‘Adam, I think you’re being cruel to your daughter.’

  He looked at her, astonished. ‘What?’

  ‘That bathing costume you’re making her wear. It might be fine for the municipal baths in Sludgethorpe in 1955, but here she needs a two-piece.’

  He laughed. ‘Is that your own opinion or was there some prompting?’

  ‘Johanne did admire my costume,’ Amy said with an air of injured dignity, ‘but I couldn’t admire hers.’

  ‘But she’s only a schoolgirl!’ Adam wasn’t convinced.

  ‘She’s a schoolgirl now,’ Amy said, ‘but in two or three years she’ll be a young lady. And you need practice to be one of those, it doesn’t come automatically. Buying a two-piece bathing costume isn’t much of a declaration, Adam.’

  ‘Please, Dad!’

  ‘It appears that I’m outvoted,’ he said dryly. ‘All right, you can have a two-piece, but I’ll come along to see that—’

  ‘Let’s all go,’ said Amy, ‘and make sure she buys something both nice and suitable.’

  He sighed. ‘Three ladies and me. I’m outvoted.’

  They went to a nearby shop and bought quite a becoming bikini without too much trouble. And Adam insisted on buying Elizabeth a new sun hat, which delighted her. But then Elizabeth yawned and Amy looked at her daughter with concern. Elizabeth was tired, she needed to sleep.

  ‘I’ll go back to the car and Elizabeth can sleep there,’ she said to Adam and Johanne. ‘You two go for a wander round, we’ll be perfectly all right.’

  ‘I’ll stay with Elizabeth if you like,’ Johanne offered. ‘I’m a bit tired myself and I’ve got a book with me.’

  Adam and Amy looked at each other. ‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Adam said eventually, ‘I fancy a walk along the beachfront for a few minutes. Amy?’

  ‘I’d like that too,’ she said.

  Ten minutes later Elizabeth and Johanne were settled in the car and Amy and Adam set off for their walk. The street was busy but Amy felt as if they were in their own little shell, that only the two of them mattered.

  ‘I like being with you,’ he said. ‘I feel I’m getting to know you. And although I like Elizabeth very much and I love my daughter, I like being alone with you. How do you feel?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Scared,’ she said. ‘Not of you but of me.’

  He nodded. ‘I know what you mean. I feel a bit the same way myself. Now, would you like a drink or shall we walk a little more?’

  ‘Let’s walk,’ she said.

  They strolled along the front, passing thronged holidaymakers, shops on one side of the road and the harbour, with yachts moored, on the other. The sun was high and the sea and the sky burned with an impossible brightness.

  ‘You’re squinting. Your eyes must hurt,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you a hat with a brim.’

  ‘No, it’s just that I forgot my sunglasses. I’ll buy a spare pair.’

  ‘I don’t want you to wear sunglasses. I want to be able to see your eyes. And if it will make you as happy as a hat made Elizabeth, then that’ll be great.’

  He took her arm, pulled her towards a shop. ‘That hat there would really suit you.’

  It was straw coloured, with a broad brim and a pretty ribbon that matched her dress. He took it down, put it on her head and then pointed her at a mirror. ‘You’re right. It does suit me,’ she said. ‘I really like it.’

  Before she could object he had paid for it. ‘Now you won’t have to squint when you look at me. And I can see your eyes.’

  ‘I usually buy my own clothes,’ she told him.

  ‘I just wanted to buy you something. It pleased me.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ she said.

  They walked farther along the front and after a while he took her hand. She liked it. No one but her daughter had held her hand in years.

  They walked to the end of the road. It was quieter here. They leaned over the railing looking at the large bay and the high cliffs opposite.

  ‘You haven’t said anything for five minutes,’ he told her, ‘and I can’t make out what kind of mood you’re in.’

  She looked down at his hand holding hers. ‘I’m wondering what I’m getting into,’ she said.

  ‘You’re getting into nothing. This is a holiday, a time away from ordinary life. We make the most of it.’

  She lifted her head to look at him directly, not completely sure of what he meant. Solemnly, he looked back at her. She faltered, ‘I’m not sure...’

  Then she looked along the road behind him, saw two figures moving purposefully towards them. ‘There’s Johanne and Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘They seem rested.’

  He turned to look. ‘So they do,’ he said casually. ‘Yet another interrupted conversation. I suppose I’d better let go of your hand.’

  ‘It might be better,’ she said.

  Things were just as relaxed the next day. Johanne chattered to Amy and played with Elizabeth—the two of them were getting on famously. Adam asked if he might be excused if he didn’t join in the conversation too much, they were driving through the mountains and he needed to concentrate. Amy told him that she’d looked at the unguarded precipice at the side of the road and, as far as she was concerned, he could keep absolutely quiet. Everyone laughed.

  Then they were on a flatter road and they put on Elizabeth’s story tape again. The story they were listening to involved a big, big, big, bad, bad, bad giant. It was necessary to shout out ‘big, big, big, bad, bad, bad’ at frequent intervals. Elizabeth couldn’t laugh enough—especially when Adam joined in with the deepest of voices.

  Eventually they reached their destination. This was a different kind of beach. They were in a cove, with waves beating heavily on rocks at each side. The area where it was safe to swim was marked off by a set of yellow buoys, and there were notices in several languages telling them of the dangers. There weren’t as many people here. Amy felt she rather preferred it.

  Johanne rather shyly put on her bikini for the first time and was pleased when her father took out a camera and said h
e wanted a picture of her. Then the four ran down to the water and swam.

  Yes, things were better. When she was swimming near him, Amy felt Adam’s hand trail down her side. It could have been an accident—but perhaps not. Whatever it was, she liked it.

  After a while three of them went back to sunbathe on the beach. Johanne said she wanted to stay in a little longer. Amy had noticed that she was nearly as good a swimmer as her father. Adam nodded to his daughter, told her to remember to stay inside the yellow buoys.

  Amy dried and dressed Elizabeth then stretched out on her towel. Adam offered to walk up the beach and fetch them all an iced drink. ‘Will you keep an eye on Johanne?’ he asked Amy. ‘I don’t expect any trouble. She’s sensible about swimming.’

  ‘I think she’s sensible about most things,’ Amy said, and felt rather upset when he winced. But she watched Johanne swim as she slathered sunblock on her own now dry body.

  Johanne was keeping well inside the yellow buoys. There were a few other swimmers, one or two weren’t as disciplined. But Johanne was Amy’s sole responsibility.

  The sun shone high in the sky, reflecting off the water, at times making it difficult to see. Amy squinted a little, and then reached for her sunglasses—remembered today. But Johanne was still clearly visible.

  Suddenly Amy saw her wave frantically, then point to something by the rocks. A split second later Amy heard her scream for help.

  But it wasn’t Johanne who was in danger. Amy looked where she had pointed and saw a little scrap of red being tossed by the waves dangerously close to the rocks. It was a swimmer—apparently unconscious.

  Amy turned, desperately waved both arms at the distant figure of the returning Adam. When she had his attention she pointed out to sea. Adam saw what was happening at once. He dropped the drinks he was carrying and ran for the water.

  Amy tucked Elizabeth under her arm and, as quickly as she could, walked down to the beach. She could see that Johanne was swimming towards the figure, beyond the yellow buoys. Adam, now racing through the water, shouted, ‘Johanne! Stop there now! I said stop!’ Amy was pleased to see that Johanne obeyed as she was now dangerously near the rocks.