A Mommy for Christmas (14 page)

‘I can take them home…'

‘Don't be silly, you'll freeze. Anyway, you're with us for Christmas so you may as well be staying there.'

‘Are we?' He knew Sue had said something about it, but he wasn't aware of having accepted. ‘Is your mother expecting us?'

‘I thought so, and if your mother's elsewhere and you've got nothing better planned, you may as well join us. You're all more than welcome, and the kids'll love it, James. There'll be so many little ones for them to play with, and they'll all adore Freya. She'll be the baby of the family and she'll be spoiled to death.'

The baby of the family? Was that how she saw them? As part of the family?

He felt a longing so great it was almost a pain, and the idea of spending another lonely Christmas was just too much to contemplate.

‘If you're sure.'

‘Of course I'm sure. Mum would skin me if you didn't join us. And now, if you've finished with my desk, I've got letters to write. In fact, you could do some of them, they're your patients.'

And she handed him a sheaf of notes, shooed him out of her chair and settled down to dictate into a little hand-held recorder.

‘Have you got another one of those?'

She opened the drawer, pulled out a second one and lobbed it at him. He caught it one-handed, tested it and, dropping into the chair on the other side of the desk, he flicked open the notes, refreshed his memory and started to dictate.

A few minutes later he realised she'd stopped talking and was watching him thoughtfully.

‘What?'

‘There's a job coming up.'

He frowned. ‘Really?'

‘Really. They're looking for a new consultant general surgeon, and they've asked me what I think about you.'

He put the recorder down slowly. ‘And?'

She met his eyes frankly. ‘I told them I had reservations about your child-care arrangements, but that in principle I thought you'd be an excellent choice.'

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. And she'd had to come in and hear him rowing with his mother over that very subject. Damn.

‘What? Did you expect me to lie to them, James, just because we're sleeping together?'

He dropped his hand and stared at her. ‘No. Not at all. I'd rather you didn't. It's only the truth. In fact, if us having a relationship outside work is going to make things awkward for you, then perhaps I should find alternative accommodation and we'll cool it off. I don't want you feeling compromised.'

Her eyes widened slightly, then she looked away. ‘It's entirely up to you what you do about your accommodation, but you're more than welcome to stay. I've told you that over and over again.'

‘And the rest?' he asked softly.

She swallowed. ‘Again, that's up to you. If you decide you'd rather not go on, then just say so. And don't worry about me. It's separate, and I'm capable of keeping it that way. It's just a question of whether you are.'

‘But what do you want?'

She met his eyes, but hers were so guarded he couldn't tell what she was thinking. ‘What do I want? I want you to do whatever you feel is right.'

‘Then we keep it separate, and we carry on,' he told her, because the alternative, to lose that amazing vibrant warmth from his life, was too hard to contemplate.

 

She heard his pager bleeping at one twenty-five.

His bedroom was next to hers, just through the wall, and she could hear the soft murmur of his voice, then the sounds of him moving around.

And then she heard Freya cry, and his footsteps on the landing, and then his mother's voice remonstrating with him.

‘I have to go!' he said, raising his voice so she could hear him clearly, then his mother replied, her voice tearful.

‘James, I can't do this! She's getting so upset.'

‘Mum, we've talked about this over and over again. I have to go to work.'

‘James, please.'

Kate pulled on her dressing-gown and tapped on the communicating door. ‘James? Let me in.'

It swung open, and he stood there, his eyes tormented, Freya in his arms, an older woman hovering in the background, twisting her hands.

‘Give her to me,' Kate said, taking the baby from him. ‘Now go. I'll join you later.'

‘But—'

‘No buts. Go.'

‘I owe you.'

‘I know.'

He sighed sharply, kissed Freya on the cheek and ran down the stairs. Seconds later the door banged behind him, and his car drove away, leaving them in silence.

‘Right, sweetheart, let's get you back to bed,' she said to the gently grizzling Freya, and, kissing her soft, downy cheek, she tucked her back into her cot, covered her up and left her.

There was a little wail of protest, but nothing untoward, and she stood on the landing outside the partially open door and met James's mother's anguished eyes.

‘You probably think I'm dreadful,' Mrs McEwan said unhappily.

‘No. I think you're not very supportive of your son, but you obviously have your reasons for that, and they're none of my business. What is my business is getting him to work when he's meant to, so he can fulfil his contract, and I understood you had an agreement, so if you suddenly find you can't stick to that and you're going to let him down and make it even more difficult for him to keep his family intact, then I think that's somewhat unfair.'

‘But I can't,' she said, and to Kate's complete astonishment, she started to cry.

‘Come on, let's go and put the kettle on. You need to talk about this.' She put a hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the stairs, and once they were down in the kitchen she put the kettle on and settled back against the worktop while Mrs McEwan blew her nose and pulled herself together.

‘Beth was so lovely. They were such a wonderful family,' she said unsteadily, ‘and then this dreadful disease got hold of her and he just let her carry on with the baby, and if he hadn't, if he'd saved her—but they didn't even try, and now he wants me to support him, and I can't do it. I'm worried about my sister, and she wants me to spend time with her, and James needs me, and I can't deal with it on my own at night when he has to go. The responsibility just terrifies me, and I'm so afraid something dreadful will happen to one of them and it'll be my fault.'

‘Right, let's take this one at a time,' Kate said gently but firmly, sitting her down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.

‘One, as I understand it, the cancer had already spread by the time Beth realised, and it was too late to save her, so whatever they'd done, it wouldn't have changed the outcome, it just would have given her more time. Probably only weeks, maybe months at best. And doing nothing, for the sake of Freya, was a very brave thing to do, and it must have torn James apart to sit there and watch it happen, knowing he was just going to lose her even sooner, but it was what she wanted, what she felt was right, and he supported her decision. I think that shows immense courage and fortitude, and you should be very proud of him.'

His mother stared at her, and then her eyes filled again. ‘I am proud of him, but I can't be Beth.'

‘He doesn't want you to be Beth. He wants you to be his mother, and you can do that. You can look after the children—you just need to be firmer. Freya doesn't miss her mother, she never knew her, and Rory's as good as gold. He sleeps through the night, he's happy and well adjusted—they really aren't a problem. They're a good family unit, and you really shouldn't try to undermine that because you haven't got the confidence to do what James is asking of you.'

‘But I can't do it!'

‘Then you need to tell him why. You need to tell him that you're afraid, and not tell him that he isn't in a position to keep his children, because losing them would destroy him, you know. He loves them so much, he's absolutely devoted to them, and he's only trying to do his job and maintain their quality of life. He's not trying to be unreasonable, but if you really are afraid to help him or too worried about your sister to feel able to give him the time he needs, then you need to explain that. I'm sure he'll understand, and he can make other arrangements, but it might take time. As long as he's here my parents are just over there in the farmhouse, and if you really couldn't cope, they'd give you a hand, but—Mrs McEwan, there's a permanent job coming up, and I think he should have it, but while there's this uncertainty hanging over him, I can't recommend him without reservation.'

Mrs McEwan stared at Kate for an age, then shook her head. ‘I don't know what to do. I just know I can't.'

‘What exactly are you afraid of?'

She huddled her arms around herself miserably. ‘I don't know. What if the baby was sick and choked? Or got meningitis and I didn't realise? And what if Rory did something dangerous and fell or burnt himself or something? It's so silly,' she said, wringing her hands, ‘but I feel like a new mother—that I don't know what to do, and I get so tired, but I don't know how to settle them if they wake.'

‘Just be firm. Listen—what can you hear?'

There was absolute silence, apart from the ticking of the clock on the wall, and she stared at Kate.

‘She's gone back to sleep!' she said, looking stunned.

‘Of course she has. She had a busy day. She needs her sleep, and so do you. Don't pander to her, and she won't expect it.'

‘That's what James always says.'

‘Then maybe he has a point,' she said with a wry smile. ‘She's his daughter, he's looked after her from day one. I think perhaps he knows her.' She lifted her head. ‘That's my pager. It must be a big one. I'm going to have to go—will you be all right, Mrs McEwan, or do you want me to ring my mother? My parents are just over there, they won't mind.'

‘No. No—I'll manage.'

‘Look, I'll leave you the number so you can ring them if there's a problem, but I really don't think there will be,' she said, scribbling it on the back of an envelope. ‘There. Call them if you need them.'

She nodded. ‘Thank you, Kate. I'm sorry I've been such a nuisance. I really don't want to spoil his chances of a job, but—'

‘Just talk to him. I have to go. Go back to bed and get some rest.'

She ran upstairs and through to her side, looked at her pager and dressed quickly. She was needed in Theatre, two victims of an RTA with internal injuries needing surgery, one of them pregnant, and James's mother would just have to cope.

 

He felt sick.

His mother was bottling out on him, he'd had to call Kate in because Jo didn't have enough experience to deal with the emergencies, and all he could see was Kate's implacable eyes when she'd taken Freya from him. If it hadn't been for her, he'd still be standing on the landing, arguing with his mother, and he just couldn't do it any more.

There was no way he could struggle through to the end of this contract, far less take the consultancy if he was offered it, and he felt gutted. He loved his work, he needed it. It was the only thing that kept him sane—apart from Kate—and after the fiasco on the landing that was no doubt all about to come to a crashing halt.

‘What have we got?'

He gave a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice, calm and businesslike and in control. He met her eyes, and saw just cool caramel, and knew that it was all right. For now.

‘Twenty-five-year-old male driver with ruptured diaphragm and lacerated liver, and a twenty-six-year-old pregnant female passenger who's nearing term. I don't like the look of her at all, but there's nothing obvious and the ultrasound wasn't showing anything serious like a placental abruption. Yet. She's under observation and I've called for an obstetrician and got six units cross-matched to be on the safe side, but she might have splenic injuries. I'm not sure, but she's all right for now and the driver isn't, which is why I started on him—and he's got a fractured right radius and ulna as well that the orthos are going to deal with shortly.'

‘OK. Can we have some music on, please? A nice bit of rock, I think.'

He met her calm, clear eyes. ‘Rock?'

‘Is that OK?'

He could have kissed her. ‘That's fine.'

‘Right, how far have you got?'

‘I've clamped the liver to stop it bleeding. I'm just about to repair the diaphragm and then I'll go back to the liver and suture it properly.'

‘OK, you lead, I'll assist, and when you're OK I'll go and see your pregnant lady.'

He nodded, put his child-care issues and the future of his career out his mind and concentrated on saving a young man's life.

 

‘I don't like the look of her.'

‘No. I agree. But is it abdominal or obstetric?'