The Midwife's One-Night Fling

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘My room’s not ready.’

  ‘It will be soon,’ Richard said.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she hissed. ‘Your father’s here. He’s over there at the bar.’

  Great.

  A fight between his parents on the eve of his wedding was the last thing he needed, and so after a few nips of whisky with Freya’s brothers, along with many other new friends who had joined them, the bear retired to his cave.

  And then a horrible thing happened.

  From the room above his own he heard his mother laugh.

  Not a bad thing on its own.

  But then he heard the unmistakable rumbling sound of his father’s laugh too...

  By morning Richard had decided that, while the restaurant might have been refurbished, the squeaking beds at the Tavern still needed an overhaul.

  He had to tell Freya—except it wasn’t Freya who answered her phone. Instead it was Alison.

  ‘No, you can’t speak to her!’

  Freya frowned when she heard Alison’s firm tone.

  She had seen that it was Richard calling, but, given that she was getting her make-up done, Alison had taken the call.

  ‘Let me speak to him,’ Freya said, holding out her hand for the phone.

  ‘No!’

  It would seem that Alison was taking her Matron of Honour duties very seriously.

  ‘Is it a medical emergency?’ she asked Richard.

  It would seem not.

  ‘Are you going to jilt the bride?’

  Freya rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers, indicating that she wanted to be given the phone, but Alison had other ideas.

  ‘Then there’s nothing that can’t wait. Anything urgent, have the best man call me—not the bride!’

  The flowers in Freya’s bouquet were the very same as the ones she had bought on the day she had decided to give London a go. The bunch of pale lilacs perhaps didn’t appear a very opulent display, but they were now the flowers that made her ‘cheer up, love’.

  And Freya was both cheered up and nervous as she felt her father’s arm beneath her hand and she walked towards the love of her life.

  Richard did not stare ahead, instead he turned and watched her every step.

  Yes, Officer, I will remember what she was wearing for ever.

  Her dress was the colour of a pearl moon as it hung over the local bridges, and on her feet were silk ballet pumps. The flowers he couldn’t name, but he knew that she bought them often.

  As for her hair... Freya wore it down, and yet it sprang up in curls about her face. Wild and dark, it moved with her.

  Make-up? That he would never recall. For as her father let go of her arm and Richard took her hands nothing else mattered.

  ‘You made it,’ he said.

  ‘Just.’

  They shared a smile and a couple of words in that moment before proceedings commenced.

  The vicar spoke of the seriousness of the vows before them as he addressed the packed congregation. And Richard’s voice was lovely and clear as he repeated the words which became his promise to her.

  ‘To love and to cherish, till death do us part.’

  Those words had always made her a little sad, talking of death at a wedding. And yet they were actually rather gorgeous to hear, she thought, when she was being held by Richard’s eyes.

  He was taking this as seriously as she, Freya knew. He had avoided and hidden from love, but—like heartache—love found you and chased you until you either denied it or faced it.

  And they faced each other now, and smiled as they were pronounced man and wife.

  Richard kissed his bride. Their smiling lips met, but he felt the tremble of hers beneath his as emotion caught up with her.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, and briefly held her, ‘we’ve got each other for life.’

  They turned and walked down the aisle to see many smiling, friendly faces. Some were familiar to Freya but new to Richard, and some were the other way around.

  Freya knew there were friends from the Primary, who had made the trip, but first she smiled to her parents and her brothers, and then to Richard’s parents, who stood side by side.

  Freya seriously hoped there would be no arguing between them tonight—though Richard had told her it was his parents’ problem if they did.

  And then there was Kelly, Stella, Pat, Rita and Angela and, it seemed, half the anaesthetics department, including Dominic, who was looking forward to having his old boss back.

  They stood and smiled for the camera, and it actually wasn’t too painful because Freya had insisted on only a few formal shots.

  ‘It’s too cold to stand outside,’ she had said, and so, surprisingly quickly, they were back at the Tavern, in the gorgeous new function room at the very top of the hotel.

  Freya hadn’t seen it before. Only Richard, who had organised things, had been inside.

  It was stunning.

  Huge long tables were dressed with tall white candles, and there were large bunches of wild Scottish flowers.

  It felt as if they were in a castle, Freya thought. And the arched windows looked out on the view she loved—though she really didn’t notice the view as Richard made his speech.

  He kept it short and sincerely thanked everyone, especially those who had travelled from afar—‘Including me,’ he quipped.

  He got through the formalities, then admitted a truth.

  ‘I never thought I’d be doing this,’ Richard said, ‘but I am so honoured to be here. As some of you will know, Freya and I have two places we call home—one in London, another here in Cromayr Bay. I love them both. And, as I’ve found out, so too does my wife.’

  He paused, not for effect, but more because it didn’t even sound odd to be saying that. It felt right.

  And it sounded just right to Freya, too, and she gave him a smile before he spoke on.

  ‘It’s not the house, or the location, or even the view. It’s the people who make a place feel like home. But at the end of the day you close the door. Freya,’ he said, ‘I will always be happy to come home to you.’

  It was the loveliest day of her life.

  Freya found out via the best man about a few of Richard’s more colourful escapades, and she shared a smile with Stella. She couldn’t say that she hadn’t been warned.

  And then there was a toast to the bridesmaids and the formalities were done.

  Almost.

  ‘This is our first dance,’ Richard said.

  ‘As man and wife?’

  ‘No,’ Richard said. ‘This is our very first dance.’

  Indeed it was, Freya realised.

  She and Richard hadn’t yet made it to the cinema, let alone the dance floor. And so it was utter bliss to rest in his arms for a moment and savour their first dance. One she would remember for ever.

  Perhaps they should be gazing into each other’s eyes, Freya thought, but it was nice just to be held and to breathe in the scent of him and enjoy a quiet moment.

  That was how he made her feel. Safe in his arms, whatever the adventure. And he made her feel something else too...

  She looked up to him. ‘I want to break out of my skin and dance,’ Freya admitted, and they both knew how rare this was, since she was not a dancing type of person.

  ‘When we’re alone,’ Richard said in his most deadpan, sexiest voice, ‘you can certainly break out of your skin and dance. I might even join you!’

  He made her toes curl.

  And he made her smile in a way no one else did.

  But then she saw something.

  His parents were dancing and it didn’t look strained.

  In fact, they were gazing into each other’s eyes.

  ‘Richard...’ She raised her head, but he knew what she had seen.

  ‘I know.’ He spoke low into the shell of her ear. ‘That’s why I tried to call you. I think they might be getting back together.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and then he lifted her chi
n, so that she looked deep into his eyes. ‘We’ll never be like them. I’m going to take care of the love we’ve found.’

  ‘And me,’ Freya told him.

  They would both take the best of care of this very precious love.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘BUT WHY WOULDN’T you have him here?’ Amanda asked.

  They were discussing Richard and Freya’s baby, which was due in three weeks.

  ‘Firstly, it might be a she,’ Richard pointed out to his mother. ‘Secondly, it should be Freya’s choice. We’re going up at the weekend for a few days and we’ll decide then.’

  Except that they wouldn’t.

  Richard didn’t know it yet, but Freya was already in labour.

  She did not want a false alarm, nor to get to the hospital and find out that she wasn’t very far along and so she had been keeping quiet.

  But she was certain now.

  The contractions were fifteen minutes apart and they were getting stronger. The decision as to where to have their baby had now, as of this afternoon, become a moot point.

  They went home to Cromayr Bay a lot.

  Richard’s job remained as constant and as high pressure as ever, but now, instead of him flying away, they drove to there. And if they didn’t feel like driving they took the train, because it really was the most wonderful train journey and so relaxing.

  Apart from at Newcastle. Each time the train pulled into there Freya and Richard would exchange a glance as they recalled that text exchange that had nearly put an end to them for ever.

  Her cottage was slowly coming on, and Richard loved their time there so much that a role at Cromayr Bay Hospital still wasn’t completely off the cards.

  After a couple of days spent catching up with friends and loved ones, or simply unwinding alone together, they’d get back in the car, or board another train, and come home.

  Freya had fallen in love with London.

  Properly.

  She had started to fall in love with it when she and Richard had broken up. It had been her friends there who had helped her through, even if they hadn’t known just how broken-hearted she’d really been.

  They had both been a bit undecided as to where they wanted the baby to born.

  Amanda, though, had clearly made up her mind. ‘I hope you have it here.’

  ‘Why?’ Richard asked. ‘I thought you enjoyed your stay at the Tavern.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Good.’

  There had been no reference to that night—no mention, no comment. If Richard hadn’t been unlucky enough to land the room beneath them he might never have known.

  ‘Richard,’ Amanda said now, ‘can I have a word?’

  ‘Go ahead.’ He would not be following her into the kitchen so they could speak quietly. ‘I’ll be telling Freya what you say anyway, so you might just as well say it here.’

  ‘Very well. Now, I know after I called things off with Roger, that I said I was through with men but... Richard, please don’t roll your eyes. Your father and I have been seeing each other since your wedding.’

  Richard said nothing.

  ‘We haven’t rushed into anything. We’ve both done that before, and we didn’t want to put you through another wedding, but we...we got married last week.’

  Richard just stood there.

  ‘It was a quiet wedding,’ Amanda said. ‘We didn’t want a fuss—or rather I didn’t want a fuss—and so we went to Gretna Green, and had a little honeymoon at the Tavern.’

  ‘Why aren’t you both here to tell me?’ Richard asked. ‘Is he too busy working?’

  ‘No, we were both going to come, but then we decided that it might be a bit much for the two of us to turn up at your door saying everything’s all right now. While it is for us—well, we know that it can’t have been easy on you. That’s why I came alone.’

  He smiled and kissed his mother the perpetual bride. ‘Congratulations. And I really do mean that.’

  Freya kissed her too, and then Richard got out some champagne. As he did so, Freya excused herself and went into the bedroom.

  The pains were getting strong now, that was for certain, but also there was a need to be alone as she thought of Richard and all he had been through with his parents.

  For what?

  Nearly two decades apart and a whole lot of heartache in between—because neither would back down or consider the other person’s side.

  Freya knew she had a lot to be grateful for.

  Of course, when she came out Amanda showed them the wedding pictures, and Freya made herself scarce now and then, because she wanted to tell Richard that she was in labour alone.

  At last Amanda looked at the time. ‘I really do have to go or I’ll miss my train...’

  ‘Does my father want his dinner?’ Richard asked, and his voice was wry.

  ‘No, he’s taking me out.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  They saw her out, and although Richard hadn’t jumped up and down at the news, Freya could tell he was pleased.

  ‘At least it will make things easier on the baby.’ Richard commented once she had gone. ‘Just plain old Grandma and Grandpa Lewis. We’ll have to wait until he’s old enough to fill him in on the last twenty years.’

  He recalled what they had been discussing before his mother had shared her news. They did need to make their minds up.

  ‘Freya, if you want to have the baby in Scotland then...’

  ‘We’re having it here, Richard.’

  ‘You don’t have to make your mind up now.’

  ‘The baby already has. The contractions are ten minutes apart.’

  ‘Is that why you kept ducking out of the room?’

  ‘Yes.’

  But she didn’t duck out for the next one, and he felt her stomach turn to rock.

  ‘They’re getting worse,’ Freya said.

  ‘They’re getting stronger,’ Richard teased, because he heard a lot of midwife-speak every day at work.

  But then he saw the chink of anxiety in those guarded green eyes that only he could read.

  ‘Do you want to go to the hospital now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was a wise choice, Freya had decided. The Underground wasn’t an option, and she knew the traffic was terrible on a Friday night, even though the Primary wasn’t a particularly long drive from where they lived.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she shouted as they didn’t even move an inch through one traffic-light-change.

  ‘You’re doing really well.’

  ‘No, seriously, Richard! I can’t have it in a car.’

  ‘You’re not going to. We’ll be there soon.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘Soon-ish,’ he said.

  ‘I’m stuck in traffic with an anaesthetist and I’m going to be too far along for an epidural!’

  Richard said nothing.

  And then there was the hospital, and the ugly grey building had never looked more beautiful to Freya.

  He held her hand as they walked the terribly long walk along the yellow line, and when they pushed open the doors to the maternity unit Freya had never been more relieved to be anywhere in her life.

  ‘Freya—welcome!’

  Stella had got her name right for once. But she was a patient now, Freya realised as she was helped into a gown and examined.

  ‘You are doing an amazing job,’ Stella told her. ‘You’re four...nearly five centimetres dilated.’

  ‘Only four centimetres!’

  ‘Nearly five—and that’s a great time to call for an anaesthetist,’ Stella said, because that was on Freya’s birthing plan.

  Richard said nothing, even though he’d guessed that Freya wasn’t really about to have the baby. After all, he had given many, many epidurals.

  He said nice things as he felt her disappointment that she wasn’t further along. ‘You’re well into active labour. Sometimes having an epidural too early can slow down the contractions.’

  And again he said nothing when
Stella informed them that Dominic would be getting to them very soon—well, just as soon as he could...

  Richard knew that if Dominic was delayed when his boss’s wife was here then it would be with good reason.

  Yet after some more waiting Richard better understood just how awful it was to see someone you loved in pain and be unable to help them. Worse, to be able to help them but to have to step back.

  But then the door to D5 was opened and a very nice sight for any labouring mother was there.

  ‘Hi!’

  Dominic was a bit breathless, but his smile was so nice he put Freya at ease immediately. And both Freya and Richard knew and trusted everyone in this room.

  ‘I think I’m in love with Dominic,’ Freya said when the pain had eased.

  ‘I bet you say that to all the anaesthetists,’ Stella teased.

  It was a gentle evening.

  Dr Mina came in and checked that all was well, and as always she made Freya feel calm, and then Freya dozed on and off and later was thrilled when the night staff came on and she saw that her midwife was Kelly.

  Things really had moved along because now, just after ten, when Kelly examined her she told her it was time to start to push.

  The lights stayed dimmed and with Kelly’s encouragement she was soon pushing effectively. It was a good epidural that had been administered, because she could feel the pressure of the contractions but not the pain—though it was still exhausting first-baby work.

  And then the room started to fill up.

  Pat came in to take the baby.

  And Dr Mina came back in too.

  Freya assumed it was just because she was a member of staff.

  Not so.

  The room was still calm, but Richard could see that forceps were fast becoming an option.

  He pulled back Freya’s leg as Pat did the same on the other side, while Dr Mina tied on a plastic gown.

  ‘Freya,’ Kelly urged, ‘I want you to give me a big push now.’

  The last moments were here, and Freya went inside herself.

  ‘Freya,’ Kelly said again, and it felt as if her voice came from afar. ‘I need you to push.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Dr Mina encouraged her.

  Except Freya was both scared and spent. She was slight and slender, and Richard wasn’t, and this baby was large.