A Doctor to Come Home to

by Gill Sanderson

  The phone rang, but it was a while before Amy could disentangle herself from her daughter and the sheets. Then she caught her breath, half with excitement, half with surprise. It was Adam.

  ‘Hi, Adam! Sorry to be so long in replying. I was bouncing on the bed with Elizabeth.’

  ‘It’s good to have fun with your daughter. Sorry to ring you at home when I know you don’t want me to.’ She realised his tone was tired, even disillusioned.

  ‘Is there anything wrong? How did yesterday go?’

  ‘Johanne had a wonderful time. She came back with her face plastered with make-up, a new dress, dyed hair in a totally unsuitable style. She’s fourteen, not twenty.’

  Amy felt her morning was ruined, but she was not going to show this. ‘Adam, did you phone just to take your bad temper out on me?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Amy. Could we meet for a while? Not your place or mine, somewhere neutral.’

  ‘Neutral? As in a war?’ She looked out of the window, the weather was fine but crisp. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll put Elizabeth in her buggy. We’ll go to the park by the river. I’ll bring some bread for the ducks and we’ll be there in about an hour. But, Adam, why are you—’

  ‘In an hour.’ He rang off.

  Amy went back to play with Elizabeth but it wasn’t fun any more. At first she had been shocked at Adam’s attitude. But now a slow anger began to burn inside her, getting hotter by the minute. She wasn’t used to be spoken to in that way. She wasn’t going to have it either. If Adam wanted a fight—for whatever reason—then he would find that she would give him one.

  She dressed Elizabeth and herself warmly, got a stale half loaf and set off for the park. It was a lovely day again, with the leaves golden brown and the clearness of autumn. Once in the park Elizabeth had to get out of the buggy, to run along the path, kicking the piles of leaves with a swishing sound. She at least was happy.

  Amy saw Adam waiting by the river, in jeans and a black leather jacket. He looked good. He had his back to her and was staring at the wooded hills above the town. It thrilled her just to see him—it always did. But this time it made her even angrier with herself.

  He didn’t hear her approach.

  ‘Ducks!’ shouted Elizabeth. ‘Hello, Uncle Adam, I’ve got bread for the ducks.’

  Adam turned to them. His face was stern at first but he had to smile at Elizabeth. He picked her up and hugged her.

  ‘First things first,’ said Amy. ‘We have to feed the ducks.’

  ‘Of course. Being a parent is all-important.’

  He stood to one side while Amy and Elizabeth threw in their bread, watching the ducks swoop and dive after the food. Elizabeth loved it. But eventually they were finished, and Amy buckled her into her buggy and gave her a teddy to cuddle. She sat on a nearby bench and said, ‘If we’re going to talk, you can sit down.’

  He sat on the far side of the bench from her and she went on, ‘It’s beautiful out now. Elizabeth and I would have loved to come out and meet you, to go for a quiet friendly walk in the park. But it’s not going to be like that, is it?’

  For a moment his bleak expression slipped and she thought she saw misery in his eyes. But then it hardened and he said, ‘Probably not. How long have you known that my daughter was seeing a boy nearly three years older than her?’

  Amy flinched, she could do without this. But she said, ‘I’ve met them once, by chance, near the entrance of that park by the school.’

  ‘And they were doing what?’

  ‘He was kissing her.’

  ‘And how was he kissing her?’

  Now Amy was getting angry. ‘I got it wrong when I said he was kissing her. They were kissing each other. And they were kissing like any two teenagers who think they’re in love.’

  ‘Love! At fourteen? I know Johanne asked you not to tell me about them, but you didn’t have to do what she wanted. Didn’t you think I ought to know? Aren’t I to be trusted with the welfare of my own daughter?’

  Amy’s shoulders slumped. She had no real answer. ‘It was hard for me. I did what I thought best.’

  ‘Quite so. And I find out about it from my ex-wife, who took great pleasure in telling me. Johanne had told her in confidence, but Angela thought I ought to know. I felt a fool and I felt betrayed.’

  ‘Adam, I’m sorry.’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, it’s done now. Johanne and I have sorted out some kind of pattern of living together. I see no reason why it should not work. But I feel let down by you. I thought I could trust you.’

  ‘So did Johanne. I’m sorry, Adam. I did what I thought best.’

  ‘Quite so. But I think it best in future if you only see Johanne when she’s with me. And if you see her with any—’

  ‘If I see her in any situation that seems dangerous to me, I’ll tell you. But what is dangerous will be my decision.’

  What was best to do both for Adam and herself? She wanted to discuss, to be reasonable, to see if there was something on which they could both agree. But when she looked at that hard-as-teak face, she knew there was no point. Adam had made up his mind. That was enough.

  ‘I can only say that I won’t try to get in touch with Johanne without telling you,’ she said.

  ‘Fine. I’ll have to settle for that. Good morning.’ And he walked away.

  It wasn’t very cold out but Amy felt as if her face was frozen. Quickly, she pushed Elizabeth home, in spite of her demands to feed the ducks again. Then she sat on her couch and burst into tears.

  The following week was a nightmare. Amy carried on at work, realised that Adam was trying to see as little of her as possible. When they did meet he smiled politely but distantly. She smiled politely back. And it hurt.

  Ever ready for a little friendly gossip, Rita whispered to Amy, ‘Dr Ross hasn’t been himself all week. Really distant. You know his ex-wife came back to see him last Saturday? Perhaps he’s missing her.’

  ‘That right?’ Amy asked, trying to put on a face of indifference. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed, myself.’

  She didn’t know whether things were made better or worse when Dr Wright called a five-minute lunch meeting and told everyone that there was no longer any question of Amy being asked to talk about contraception in school.

  ‘All the local schools have got together and have appointed a specialist speaker to do this work. The headmistress phoned me, saying that it was out of her hands now. She would have preferred Amy—and hopes that Amy will still come to give her ordinary talks.’

  Amy glanced at Adam. As so often these days, his expression was unreadable.

  She was missing passing the time of day with him. And she realised that his plan had been working. She had been getting to know him, to like him. In time perhaps they might have... But it was too late now.

  On the Friday evening, when she was picking up Elizabeth from her mother’s, Sylvia said, ‘Can you come to tea tomorrow night? About six?’

  Amy looked at her mother, rather surprised. ‘A bit formal, isn’t it?’ she asked. The two of them were always dropping on and out of each other’s houses.

  ‘This is different. I want you to meet... well, I want you to meet Noel.’

  Amy had her first real laugh in ages. ‘You want me to meet your boyfriend,’ she said. ‘You’re anxious, hope that he’ll make a good impression. Ma, this is the wrong way round. It’s daughters who worry about introducing boyfriends to their mothers.’

  ‘He wants to meet you,’ her mother said, going rather pink. ‘He’s seen you at a distance and he wants to meet Elizabeth, too.’

  ‘That’s nice. I’m looking forward to meeting him.’ Amy just couldn’t help herself. ‘It’s good to see you getting out and about,’ she said. ‘Have you...you know what yet?’

  Now her mother turned scarlet. But then she laughed. ‘I’m your mother,’ she said. ‘Just keep quiet.’

  ‘Looking forward to meeting him,’ said Amy.

  When they met, she really liked Noel. He arrived w
ith flowers for her mother, a smaller bunch for her and a teddy for Elizabeth. Amy realised that he had thought of it all himself—he had not been prompted by her mother. They had a pleasant meal together and then Amy took Elizabeth home. At the door she whispered to her mother, ‘Now, if you can’t be good, be careful.’ And her mother blushed again.

  At home Amy bathed Elizabeth and put her to bed. Then she sat on her couch by the fire and felt just a little depressed. She was so happy to see her mother happy. But it made her wonder—was she missing something herself? Why couldn’t she have a love life of her own?

  It was five days later. She was kept out late—one of her independent old ladies who lived on her own had fallen and was distressed. And she refused to go to hospital. Amy phoned the lady’s daughter who said she would come round and stay the night, but couldn’t arrive for another hour or so. So Amy waited until the daughter arrived.

  In due course, Amy went to pick up Elizabeth.

  It was an evil night. It had rained all day and now the wind was growing, rattling the raindrops on the windscreen. There were few people out, the streets of Lissom almost deserted.

  That was why Amy noticed one figure. A girl in a dark mac, carrying a heavy bag, head down as she walked towards the bus station. It was Johanne.

  Amy remembered what she had promised Adam. But surely he wouldn’t object if she gave his daughter a lift in this weather. The next question was did Amy want to get involved in the family again? Well, yes, she did. Just a bit.

  She pulled over, reached and opened the passenger door. ‘Get in, Johanne. I’ll give you a lift.’

  ‘Amy, what are you—?’

  ‘Come on, get in,’ Amy said impatiently. ‘You’ll get us both wet. Where are you going?’

  Johanne climbed in and wedged her bag on her knees. ‘If you could drop me off at the bus station,’ she said, ‘that’d be great.’

  Amy remembered that Adam was working at the surgery until eight that night. It was now seven. Lightly, she asked, ‘Where are you going on this fearsome night, Johanne?’

  There was no answer. Amy stopped the car, turned on the overhead light and looked at Johanne’s grim, rain-streaked face. ‘Come on, Johanne. Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m going to my mother’s.’

  ‘And is she expecting you?’

  ‘No. But I am her daughter.’

  Amy tried to keep her voice casual. ‘Does your dad know you’re going?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t. But he doesn’t have to worry. I’ve left him a letter.’

  ‘I see. May I ask why you’re going?’

  ‘You know very well!’ Johanne said, her voice rising. ‘He won’t let me see Jack, he’s on at me all the time, telling me to work. And I do work. My project was the best in the class. And he won’t let me see you. I can’t stand it and I’m leaving!’ Now she was nearly in tears.

  Amy sighed. This was the last thing she wanted. ‘Can I persuade you to go back, Johanne? You know he loves you. Perhaps if you talk to him—’

  ‘I’ve tried talking! He doesn’t listen. And now you’re going to tell him that you’ve met me, aren’t you? It doesn’t matter—he can’t lock me up all the time.’

  ‘Of course I’m going to tell him,’ Amy said. ‘He’ll worry and he’ll tell the police.’

  ‘Police?’ Johanne obviously hadn’t thought of this.

  ‘You’re an underage runaway,’ said Amy.

  Amy thought for a minute and then made a decision. Things were bad between Adam and herself. What did it matter if she made them worse? ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said. ‘Would you like to stay with me and Elizabeth for a couple of weeks?’

  Johanne looked at her with surprise and hope in her face. ‘Could I? Oh, Amy, I’d love that and I could still see Jack and I’d help and—’

  ‘I’ve got to make your dad accept. But for now, come home and get dry.’

  Johanne leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and Amy felt the wet hair brush against her face. ‘Amy, you’re wonderful!’

  ‘Let’s hope your father thinks so,’ Amy muttered. She was wondering how this would affect her relationship with Adam. After this, would there be any relationship?

  She took Johanne home, told her to have a bath and then change out of her wet clothes. ‘This is the spare bedroom,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit bare and a bit cluttered with junk.’

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ said Johanne. ‘I can be happy here. I do hope you can put things all right with Dad.’

  ‘So do I,’ Amy said.

  Amy phoned her mother, who was happy to keep Elizabeth overnight. Then she phoned the surgery. Rita was on duty.

  ‘Tell Dr Ross not to go home,’ Amy said. ‘There’s a matter I have to discuss with him urgently. I’ll be waiting for him when he finishes.’

  ‘He usually likes to get home to his daughter.’

  ‘He can spare me five minutes,’ said Amy.

  It was still raining when she drove into the surgery car park and ran into Reception. Adam had been given the message and came out of his consulting room a couple of minutes later. He looked quite concerned; there was none of the dislike he had shown recently.

  ‘Hello, Amy. Terrible night to pull you out. You should be sitting in front of the fire with Elizabeth.’

  Just my luck, Amy thought. He’s trying to be nice and I’m going to make him really angry. She said, ‘This is not surgery business, I don’t want to talk here. A few days ago you arranged to meet me to talk about Johanne. Now I’m doing the same. Where can we talk?’

  His face was impassive. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of this,’ he said. ‘Are you interfering?’

  ‘There’s a pub down the road, the Cross Keys. It’s pleasant and quiet; we can talk there, just for ten minutes.’

  She still couldn’t read his expression. But eventually he said, ‘All right, then, the Cross Keys, just for ten minutes. I’ll just phone Johanne and tell her I’ll be late.’

  Amy took a breath and said, ‘There’s no point. She’s not at home, she’s at my house. Now, the Cross Keys?’

  Now his face did show what he was feeling. He was blazingly angry. Amy quailed at his expression, but she had to go on now. ‘This had better be good,’ he whispered, ‘but I’ll see you there.’

  It was an unpleasant night and still early so there were few people in the pub. They had the snug to themselves. Adam asked her what she wanted and fetched a glass of red wine for her, half a pint of bitter for himself. He seemed composed but she could see the anger underneath. ‘Now, what about my daughter?’ he said eventually.

  Amy tried to tell him.

  ‘So Johanne is deeply unhappy? She’s tried to run away from home and just by luck you found her?’

  ‘Otherwise she might have been on the bus, going to your ex-wife.’

  He winced. ‘You invited her to stay for an indeterminate time?’

  ‘I told her I’d ask you.’

  ‘Will you encourage her to see this older boy?’

  ‘I shall neither encourage nor discourage her. If she wants, she can invite him home for tea and I’ll make him welcome. And there will be definite ground rules about how long she can stay out and where she can go to.’

  ‘I see. I need to think.’ He sat in silence and once again she had no idea what he was thinking. She fetched herself a tonic water another half pint for him.

  Eventually he said, ‘Amy, I’d be very pleased if Johanne could stay with you for a week or so. Then we can think again. She’ll go to school as usual?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘She has a key, she can fetch what she needs from the flat tomorrow. Of course, I shall pay you—’

  ‘Adam! I’ve kept calm so far because we both have to. But now you’re making me angry. Johanne will be my guest.’

  ‘I’m sorry. And, believe me or not, I’m grateful. Yes. Of course Johanne can stay with you.’ He finished his beer in one swallow. ‘You’ll...look after her?’

  ‘
As best I can,’ Amy said simply. By the way, there’s a letter waiting for you. Things have changed since she wrote it. Why don’t you keep it unopened, ask her when you see her again if she wants you to open it?’

  ‘Good idea. Now, I think I’d better be off.’ He stood, his smile a grimace. ‘My flat will seem lonely without her.’

  Amy could feel his pain.

  Amy felt emotionally exhausted when she got home. But she picked up a little when she saw how delighted Johanne was when she heard her father had said that she could stay with Amy. She was more pleased when she saw that Johanne felt sorry for her father—and was hopeful that he wouldn’t open the letter that she had left.

  It took a couple of days for Johanne to settle in, but very soon she was a member of the family, equally at home with Sylvia and Elizabeth. Amy felt happy, too. But there was still an anxiety that she couldn’t stifle. She knew this situation couldn’t go on.

  Johanne was playing with Elizabeth one evening when Sylvia took Amy to one side. With a smile she said, ‘You embarrassed me the other day, asking me about Noel. Now I’m going to do the same to you. Exactly what is between you and Adam?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Amy said forcefully, then looked at her mother’s sardonic face. ‘Oh, all right, then, I’ll tell you. We had an affair when I was on holiday. A holiday romance. Now he wants more—he wants to get serious.’

  ‘And what do you want?’

  ‘I’m afraid, Ma. After being married to Paul, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I was afraid of being so close to Noel,’ her mother said. ‘For that matter, he was afraid too. But we’re getting there.’

  ‘Good. But you were happily married and I gather that he was too. Look what I went through.’

  ‘All life’s a risk,’ her mother said. ‘You just can’t avoid it.’

  Amy’s relationship with Adam was odd. Every day she reported to him that Johanne was all right. He had lost his previous hostility and now was concerned and friendly. But his concern was for Johanne. It was as if the two of them were brought together by a joint interest in his daughter, and whatever personal feelings they might have had been put on hold.