The Midwife's One-Night Fling

by Carol Marinelli

  He clicked off his phone.

  ‘You are such a bastard.’ Stella smiled. ‘You just told me you were going home!’

  ‘God, no,’ Richard said. ‘I’m checking into a hotel tonight. That was my mother. She’s broken off her latest engagement and is currently staying with me and she’s driving me crazy.’

  Stella laughed and headed off.

  Freya didn’t know where to look, so she turned her eyes down to gaze at Sophie.

  ‘Freya?’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  She was still smarting about him writing Best wishes in her card and the use of his surname.

  ‘You know how you used me?’

  ‘I didn’t use you, Richard, any more than you used me.’

  ‘Yes, you did—but it doesn’t matter right now. I don’t want to go to a hotel. Can you please use me again tonight?’

  She laughed but did not answer him. And he watched as she walked away and put down the baby, taking time to wrap her carefully.

  ‘This is the best birthday ever,’ Freya whispered to little Sophie, and then she took a key from her pocket and headed back over to Richard.

  ‘No strings,’ he warned. ‘And no talk of long-distance relationships and other such unmentionables.’

  ‘Just sex, then?’ Freya checked.

  ‘Just that,’ Richard agreed. ‘But with my very best wishes.’

  She slid over her key and he took it.

  * * *

  Richard hadn’t really given much thought to his reaction when he entered her home. But it was a home now.

  The scent of flowers hit Richard even before he had turned on the light, and when he did click it on the room felt different. There were deep red curtains that fell to the floor, and as he walked around he felt a soft rug underfoot. There were photos of family and friends on the shelves, and he knew he would love to be among them.

  But they weren’t friends.

  They were lovers.

  Only it felt a whole lot more than that.

  And then he did something silly—which struck him as odd, because he never did things like that. He went to his car, where there was a mobile printer which he occasionally used for looking at cardiac tracings.

  Today, though, he printed a photo of himself and tucked it behind one of the pictures on her shelf.

  And then he headed to the kitchen. He saw there was still no coffee machine. But there were bananas on the bench and lots of lovely food in the fridge.

  He went into the bathroom and saw there were new shelves there, and a shower curtain covered in pictures of shells that he recognised from her home in Cromayr Bay. When he turned on the taps the water ran hot within a minute, so Richard had a shower.

  Then he put the door on the latch, so Freya could let herself in, and got into bed.

  * * *

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ said Richard.

  Freya sat on the bed. ‘Everyone keeps asking me how it feels to be thirty.’

  ‘How does it feel?’

  ‘I delivered a baby for an eighteen-year-old today,’ she said, and he smiled. ‘I don’t think I like it,’ she admitted.

  ‘You got a lot of flowers.’

  ‘I did—and there are presents waiting for me at home.’ Then she remembered the message from her ex and gave a little shake of her head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Freya said, but then decided that if there was anyone she could tell it was Richard. ‘My ex wanted to see if we might catch up.’

  ‘And will you?’ Richard asked. He found that he had to concentrate on keeping his voice even as a little snake of jealousy slithered up his chest.

  ‘Of course not!’ Freya laughed at the very thought.

  And the little snake slithered away as she put her hands around his neck.

  He was curious. ‘Why did you break up?’

  She gave a shrug. ‘Just... Why does anyone break up? Why do you break things off with women?’

  ‘Because I get bored.’

  She looked into those hazel eyes that never seemed restless when they looked into hers.

  ‘So why?’ he persisted.

  ‘We wanted different things,’ Freya attempted. Only that wasn’t right, because she did want a family one day. ‘When I moved into my cottage he seemed to think it was his. And then, when I had the worst day at work ever—possibly the worst day of my life—I came home and told him.’

  ‘And...?’

  ‘He told me he was sorry, and he told me that he believed me when I said I’d done nothing wrong...’

  ‘And...?’

  ‘And then he went to work.’

  There was silence as they stared at each other.

  He would never have left her that day. Richard knew that.

  And so too did Freya, because on the day when a woman he had never met had happened to be bleeding, he had dropped everything, swapped shifts, got in the car and driven her to Scotland.

  ‘Freya,’ Richard said, trying to give the other guy a chance. ‘You sometimes have to ask for help. You can shut the world out with one glare, and...’

  He could see behind the guarded look in her eyes though. Freya didn’t need to stand semaphoring her needs—he read them and he felt them. Pity the fool who left her on a dark, dark day.

  And more fool him if he didn’t follow his heart, Richard thought as Freya stood up, peeled off her top and then unclipped her bra.

  She slid down her jeans, and then her knickers too, and then climbed onto the bed, sat on his thighs and began to play with him.

  ‘Shouldn’t I be taking care of you on your birthday?’ he asked as he reached up to trace the curve of her breast.

  ‘I’m using you—remember?’

  ‘So you are...’

  And she was—but in the nicest of ways, imprinting his beauty on her mind. His flat nipples and the swirl of his chest hair. His dark hair and the soft skin of his balls as she held them. The way he grew to her touch, and the way he put his hand over hers and showed her just how rough he wanted her to be.

  ‘Get on,’ he said.

  And as she did so she closed her eyes—not just because of the bliss, but because of the threat of tears, for she had thought they would never be together again.

  Then she opened them and they stared at each other as he moved her hips, and then they melded into a kiss. He cupped her buttocks, feeling the softness of them, and feeling the way her hair was so silky as it spilled onto his cheeks.

  He loved it that she held on to her cries. That this private woman, even as she squeezed her thighs and gripped him tight, even as she groaned and he felt her tension, did not reveal her hurt.

  He held her by the shoulders and pushed her up, so he could see the concentration in her face and the parting of her lips as she came. He lifted and drove into her, and shot deep and she took every precious drop.

  He loved it that they did not speak of love.

  Not yet.

  And that there was no need for either of them to ask if there had been anyone else since the last time.

  Freya collapsed onto him.

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ he breathed again.

  ‘It is.’

  Truly it was.

  But then, every day was made better, even the sad ones, when it was shared with him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HE LOOKED TIRED, Freya thought when she woke the next morning. Even asleep he looked tired.

  And it wasn’t down to last night—she knew that.

  He’d looked tired on the day she had met him and every day in between.

  And if ever there was a man who deserved breakfast in bed it was him...

  * * *

  Richard woke to the sight of Freya holding a tray.

  There was toast and loads of mushrooms, and a poached egg too, as well as a glass of orange juice. There was even a flower on the tray from one of her many birthday bouquets.

  ‘What’s this for?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Freya sm
iled. ‘It’s a rarity.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ he said as she climbed into bed. ‘What are you up to today?’

  ‘Not much,’ Freya said. ‘On Friday I’m doing the London Eye at sunset with Stella, Kelly and Pat. I told them I wanted to cram in more of London before I went home and so we’re going for my birthday.’

  She looked over to him and they stared at each other. It was such a relief to be honest now about her leaving London.

  ‘You’re making friends, then?’

  She nodded, but nothing had really changed—home was still home. So she addressed it. ‘Richard, you warned me never to rely on you...’

  ‘I know I did,’ he said.

  ‘So I’m making the best decision for me. I don’t know yet if I’ll go back to the birthing unit, I’m actually considering the main hospital. I’ve got a lot more experience now. I can go up a level—maybe two.’

  The lack of rental income from her cottage was starting to bite, plus there was her rent in London...

  ‘I’m not moving to Siberia.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Have you made up your mind about the private job?’

  But they were teetering on the edge of long-distance relationship speak now, and he could not stand the thought of that. So instead of answering he gave her a kiss.

  ‘I’m going to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to say something I might regret.’

  He sounded as if he was cross with her, but it went a whole lot deeper than that. He didn’t want to tell Freya that he too was considering moving.

  To Cromayr Bay.

  He would only say it when he was sure.

  Until he’d properly thought it through, Richard wouldn’t be sharing it with a soul.

  It didn’t stop his mother from finding out about it, though...

  * * *

  ‘What the hell, Richard?’ Amanda said by way of welcome as he stepped through the door.

  She was holding a letter.

  ‘Did you open my mail?’ Richard snarled.

  ‘I was looking for an envelope and it just fell on the floor. Where the hell is Cromayr Bay and why on earth is the hospital there inviting you to come and have a look around?’

  ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘Well, I’m making it my business. You would die of boredom. I know you, Richard. You’re like me.’

  ‘Don’t terrify me, I beg you.’

  ‘I mean it. You would seriously keel over from a lack of adrenaline. I should know. Have you any idea what it was like being married to your father and playing second bloody fiddle to his patients while looking at sheep all the time?’

  Richard rolled his eyes.

  ‘You’ve got an opportunity to go into the private sector.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake stop lying to yourself.’ Amanda was so appalled that she forgot to lie about her snooping. ‘You’ve already signed the contract for the private hospital. You can’t back out now.’

  ‘You’ve seen that too?’ Richard said, and he was so furious at this invasion of his privacy that he lashed out. ‘I believe you signed a contract too...“till death us do part”...and then you went and did it another two times.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Amanda roared. ‘I only married in church once and I meant every word.’

  ‘Please...’

  ‘Richard, for our twentieth wedding anniversary I told your father to get a locum, and he did, but then some patient needed him...’

  ‘Mrs Lockley was terminally ill,’ Richard reminded her wearily, because he knew the story well.

  ‘And so was our marriage! Yet she survived longer than we did! Two more months, in fact. Your hero father didn’t want to leave her, and in staying with her he neglected me. On the night of our wedding anniversary. When a locum could surely have dealt with things for once. But instead he had to be the one to go out to her.’

  Richard just stood there, stunned, as his mother spun the mirror and for the first time ever he could see her side.

  ‘Do you know,’ Amanda raged, ‘when he got back that night he asked me to make him some Horlicks and then complained that there were lumps in it? I told him he wanted a live-in nurse or a housekeeper—not a wife. I gave him an ultimatum...’

  And then she started to cry.

  Really cry.

  Not the dramatic tears he had grown up with.

  ‘I thought he’d change when I threatened to leave him, that he’d beg me to stay, but instead he let me go...’

  She really hadn’t meant to end it. Richard knew that now.

  ‘And then what did he go and do?’ Amanda sobbed. ‘He married our housekeeper. I’m sure there was something going on before...’

  ‘No,’ Richard said. Of that he was sure. ‘He was gutted after you’d gone. He just moped around. He’s a stubborn old mule, he would never have begged you to come back, and I guess Vera felt like routine.’

  ‘You’re positive there was nothing going on between them while we were still married?’

  ‘I’m as certain as I can be,’ Richard countered, for though he’d always felt sure, he wasn’t in the game of giving absolute guarantees. ‘Anyway, they’re divorced now, and I don’t think it was a love match—though I bet she got all the lumps out of his Horlicks,’ he said, and through her tears his mother laughed.

  ‘I loved your father, Richard, very, very much. But he completely refused to compromise.’

  ‘I can see that now.’

  And now Richard wasn’t only terrified of being like his mother, but like his father too. While he knew he’d shut Freya out, he wasn’t merely being stubborn.

  For this decision had to be his.

  He had to be certain before he made it.

  He would not offer her a life spent with even a shade of resentment. He’d grown up on that. So many ruined dinners because his father had been working.

  He thought of Freya coming in with the breakfast tray, all smiling and being nice. Of course she’d understood that he’d had to dash off.

  But what if it happened every morning?

  Most nights?

  ‘I don’t think I was cut out to be a doctor’s wife,’ said his mother.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Richard said. ‘I don’t think he knew what he had.’

  Until it was gone.

  Freya would soon be gone too.

  But Richard would only make the move if he was absolutely sure he’d never begrudge the fact that he had.

  He made his mother a cup of tea, and by the time he had done so Amanda had calmed down.

  ‘Think again about going private, Richard. You wouldn’t have signed the contract if it wasn’t something you wanted.’

  ‘I was just trying the idea on for size. It’s signed—but it’s not sealed, nor is it delivered.’

  ‘What on earth are you doing, looking at Cromayr Bay?’

  ‘I’ve met someone.’

  ‘Freya,’ his mother said.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I spoke to her,’ Amanda reminded him.

  Richard remembered the first morning he had awoken with Freya in his bed, when he had handed her the phone.

  ‘She’s Scottish,’ Amanda added. ‘So I’m guessing it’s no coincidence.’

  ‘Freya was born there—she’s got family and friends there. She’s tied to the place in a way that I’m not tied anywhere. I don’t get your argument,’ he went on. ‘You’re saying my father put too much into his work and never gave you enough attention. This move might be my way to negate all that.’

  ‘It was never about the hours he worked, Richard. It was about the way he spent the hours he had at home. He gave all he had to his patients and left nothing for me.’

  Richard had, up to this point, been quietly on the side of his father. He’d tried to stay loyal to both parents—of course he had—but in truth he had thought his mother a little shallow.

 
He didn’t feel that now.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Richard said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘All the eye-rolls over the years.’

  She smiled.

  ‘But you are never going through my mail again.’

  ‘I won’t—but don’t rush into this, Richard,’ she warned. ‘Don’t end up like me...resenting the person you love.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘RICHARD’S LEAVING.’

  It was said just like that—and not even specifically to Freya.

  They were lining up to board the London Eye, Stella, Kelly and Pat, all present, and Freya’s heart felt as if it had fallen through a trap door.

  ‘How’s Von taking it?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘She’s hoping to get off with him again at his leaving do!’ Stella laughed, and then grimaced. ‘Sorry, Freya. You had a bit of a thing going on with him for a while, didn’t you?’

  Freya nodded, and then pushed out a smile. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t warned.’

  The view from the London Eye was incredible.

  It was the beginning of December and the sky was white, the trees bare and silver in the evening sun. Freya’s heart twisted at the sight of the majestic city. Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, and the grey of the River Thames.

  It was beautiful, and in that moment, high above London, Freya wished they might never have to come down.

  Afterwards they went for a curry.

  Freya’s diary was filling up now, because it was nearing Christmas and she’d been invited to a couple of parties.

  He would be gone by then.

  She let herself into her flat and it was a relief to close the door and be home.

  Home.

  Freya looked at the curtains. Though they didn’t block out the noise from the street she found the sound of cars and buses quite soothing now. And then she looked at the cushions, and the flowers sitting on the coffee table, and thought, yes, this was starting to feel like home.

  Yet soon there would be no Richard.

  No chance of seeing him at work...no hope of him asking to be ‘used’.

  And no scold in his voice when he told her off for her empty cupboards.

  Oh, why did he have to leave now? Just when her world was coming right?

  She went over to the shelf and looked at a photo of her little house in Cromayr Bay. Then she picked up the picture of her and her friends taken when they’d passed their midwifery exams.