A Mommy for Christmas (17 page)

And it was busy.

By the time he got back, Kate was in Theatre with a strangulated hernia in a man who'd tried to carry too much shopping in out of the car, and no sooner had he scrubbed to assist than he had to go down to A and E.

‘What have you got for me?' he asked, and Tom looked at him and sighed.

‘It would be Kate's team on take this weekend, wouldn't it?' he said under his breath.

‘Why?'

‘Because it's her ex-husband.'

He frowned. ‘Jon? He always goes private, she said.'

‘Not when his car's been involved in a collision and he's got suspected internal injuries,' Tom said drily.

‘Well, I'll have to deal with him. Where is he?'

‘In Resus. He's stable, but he's definitely in pain, so we're monitoring him closely. He's booked for CT shortly.'

‘Any clues?'

Tom pursed his lips. ‘Might be spleen. He was driving, and there's some evidence of a seat-belt injury across the upper left quadrant. That would be consistent with spleen, and I've just got a feeling about it. It certainly doesn't look like his aorta.'

‘Good. I don't need that and I don't suppose he does. Have we got an ultrasound machine down here?'

‘Yeah, there's one in Resus you can use. It's not brilliant. I couldn't see anything a few minutes ago, but if it's got worse it might show now.'

James went into Resus and found Jon Burgess restless, in pain and, if his guess was correct, a little frightened.

‘Hi, Jon. I'm James—we met at the wedding. How are you doing?' he asked, finding a professional smile from somewhere.

‘James? Kate's friend?'

‘That's right. Tell me how you're feeling.'

‘Sore. Really very sore, and it's getting worse.'

‘Can you point to it?' he asked, turning back the blanket, and Jon indicated an area covered by a mottled bruise. ‘OK. I want to do another ultrasound scan of the area. It may hurt a little when I press, but if it gets too much, just tell me.'

Jon grunted when he ran the ultrasound head over the bruise, but James had seen enough. There was a large mass behind the spleen, and he was convinced he had an encapsulated haemorrhage. And if the membrane tore…

‘Jon, you're going to need urgent surgery,' he said, not bothering to beat about the bush. ‘I think you've ruptured your spleen.'

‘Are you sure about that? You know what you're looking for with that stupid machine? There were just a load of lines and blotches. A better one—'

‘I'm sure,' he said. ‘As sure as I can be—and, yes, I know what I'm looking for. I don't think there's any point in waiting for a CT scan, I'd rather get you up to Theatre now. Kate's just finishing off, so we won't keep you long.'

‘I don't want Kate doing it!' he said hastily. ‘I mean, I'm sure she's perfectly competent, but—'

‘Kate won't be doing it,' he told him firmly. ‘I will. I need you to sign a consent form, and then we'll get you straight up to Theatre.'

‘I hope it'll be thoroughly sterilised! I don't want any hospital superbugs,' he said, but then the seriousness of his situation began to dawn on him, and panic filled his eyes. ‘Um—if I give you a number, could you ring someone for me? Her name's Julia.'

‘Sure.'

He took the number, got the consent form signed and then went and broke the news to Kate.

‘Jon?' she said, looking stunned. ‘Oh, Lord. Is he all right?'

He grinned. ‘Well, he's talking about superbugs, so I don't think he's that near the brink. It's his spleen—should be straightforward.' He handed her the number. ‘Here. Can you ring this lady for him? I think it's your ex's latest conquest.'

She stared at it, surprise on her face. ‘No, it's his mother. They haven't spoken for years, but she was at the wedding, of course. I'll call her. She's a darling. And—James?'

He met her eyes questioningly.

‘Take care of him. Don't give him too big an incision. He'll hate the scar.'

Like he would have hated hers? He felt his mouth tighten. ‘Of course I'll take care of him. He's a patient, first and foremost.' Even if he was cruel and insensitive and stupid and had made Kate feel bad about herself. And he'd do his best not to split him open from end to end, however tempting.

He went and scrubbed.

 

‘Busy weekend?' Sue asked Kate on Saturday afternoon when she managed to slip home for a while.

‘Dire. Jon's in. He had a car accident and ruptured his spleen. James operated while I phoned his mother and broke the news.'

‘Good heavens. Is he all right?'

‘Oh, yes. He's in a side room, complaining about the service and driving all the nurses mad, apparently. We're obviously giving him too much pain relief. I'll have to get James to reduce it.'

Her mother frowned at her. ‘Kate, that's not funny.'

‘Oh, Mum, lighten up. James has much too much integrity to do anything like that, and so have I. You should know that.'

‘I just know what Jon did to you.'

‘It was years ago,' she said, and realised that it was, and for the first time, it really felt like it. She yawned and stretched, and looked hopefully into the fridge. ‘Is there any food I can raid?' she asked, and her mother moved the kettle off the Aga and headed for the larder.

‘A bowl of Saturday soup, and some fruit cake?'

‘Fantastic. And a cup of tea, and then I'll have to dash. I'm taking it in turns with James to come home, and he's got to tuck the children up for the night, so I mustn't make him late. How's his mother coping?'

‘Marion? She's fine. We've had a wonderful day. We took the children for a walk to feed the ducks, and they joined us for lunch, and it was lovely. She's a nice woman. Very nice.'

‘She is a nice woman. She just can't cope, and I find that really odd. I suppose I'm spoilt, because you can cope with anything.'

Sue smiled wryly. ‘Oh, no, I can't. I nearly went to pieces when I saw you in hospital after that idiot kicked you.'

‘But you didn't. That's the thing. And you never do.'

‘Horses for courses. I can do children. Do you ever go to pieces when you're faced with a difficult operation?'

‘No, because it wouldn't help.'

‘So how would it help in a domestic situation?' she asked with her usual common sense, and Kate just laughed.

‘OK, you win, we're all good at something. So what's Marion good at?'

‘Playing with them. She's marvellous. She just lacks confidence, but today she really enjoyed herself. I don't think she's got a problem at all, you know, I think if she could get back her confidence she'd be in her element. She's just out of practice. I think you should back James for this job. It could be just what he needs. Well, apart from a wife, and you know what I think about that.'

The microwave pinged, and Kate rescued her soup, sat down at the table and didn't answer.

But that didn't mean she wasn't thinking about it, because she was, all the time. It was how to put the idea into his head that was the tricky bit…

 

They got through the weekend without any major dramas, and handed over their patients on Monday afternoon to another team. He and Kate had Tuesday and Christmas Day off, and Sue and Andrew were having the children for him with the family on Boxing Day, but Helen was having them on Christmas Eve, so he went straight over there and retrieved them as soon as he was finished, to give her a little time off.

‘Can we have a Christmas tree?' Rory asked excitedly on the way home. ‘Helen's got a tree. It's really nice.'

‘I expect so. We haven't got any decorations, though.' None at all. He'd thrown them all out in a fit of despair last Christmas, when he'd been packing up the London house, and he hadn't got round to replacing them. Now, suddenly, he found he wanted to put up a tree and decorate it with his children. ‘Let's go and ask Kate's mother where we should get everything from,' he said, and they went home and found Sue and Andrew in the farmyard, struggling with a huge spruce.

‘Good grief—Andrew, let me give you a hand,' he said, and Sue surrendered her end and took charge of the children while they struggled into the high-ceilinged hall and jammed it upright in a great big bucket of sand.

‘I was going to ask you where we could get a tree,' he said a little faintly, ‘but I don't think we need one that big!'

Sue laughed. ‘I've put one in the barn already. I hope you don't mind, but with the others coming—well, we always put a tree in there, but I haven't decorated it. I thought the children might like to help you do that.'

He felt a lump in his throat. ‘Thank you, that's really kind of you. I need to buy some decorations.'

‘No, you don't, we've got hundreds,' Andrew said drily. ‘Boxes full of them. I'll sort you some out.' He straightened up and stood back, looking at the tree with a critical eye, then nodded. ‘Right—teatime?'

‘What a good idea. Rory, would you like some apple cake? Freya? Or do you want a boiled egg?'

‘Egg and cake,' Rory said, and James opened his mouth to protest, caught Sue's challenging smile and subsided.

Gratefully.

 

What a day.

Kate arrived back from finishing off her Christmas shopping just as James and the children were straggling back to the barn laden down with boxes.

Well, James was laden. Rory had a bag of what looked like fairy-lights, and Freya was carrying an armful of tinsel.

It was starting to trail, and as she walked towards them, a loop slipped down and Freya caught her foot in it and started to topple.

‘Whoops!' she said, scooping up child and tinsel together, and Freya giggled and shoved the tinsel into her face.

‘Pretty!' she said, and Kate grinned.

‘You are, you're gorgeous.' She kissed her plump rosy cheek. She smelt of apple cake, and Kate realised her mother had been at work again.

‘We're going to decorate the tree,' James said a little obviously, and then added, after a slight hesitation, ‘Do you want to join us?'

She hesitated, but then Rory tugged at her sleeve. ‘You have to, Kate. Please?'

She met James's eyes over the top of the tinsel and searched them for hidden messages, but there didn't seem to be any. He was just asking her if she wanted to join them. Nothing significant. Nothing earth-shattering or meaningful.

‘Actually, I've got rather a lot to do,' she said, and then wondered if she'd imagined the withdrawal in his eyes, or if she was just trying to convince herself there was something there when there wasn't.

‘I might join you later,' she added, hoping to see a return of that warmth, but it was gone, carefully veiled now, and he nodded.

‘Do that—if you've got time. Come on, Rory. We've got a lot to do. Help Freya with the tinsel.'

So she put the toddler down, and she ran after her father and brother, and left Kate standing there alone.

Oh, well. It was her own fault. She could have said yes.

Kicking herself, she unloaded the car and tried not to look into the barn at James and the children unpacking all the decorations and exclaiming in delight.

She could have said yes.

So why hadn't she?

H
E OUGHT
to leave her alone.

He'd invited her in, and she'd declined. He couldn't bully her. It was up to her, and she'd said she was busy.

But the communicating door was calling to him from the corner of his eye, and he could hear her moving around.

Doing all the things she had to do. She was probably wrapping a mountain of presents—something he still had to do, if he ever got round to buying paper—and she wouldn't have time for him and his children. She'd probably got a tree of her own to decorate.

But it just seemed wrong, somehow, without her. As if there was someone missing—and, curiously, the someone wasn't Beth. Beth seemed like someone from another lifetime, and he supposed she was.

He thought about it, but decided he didn't feel guilty. Well, he did, about plenty of things, but not Beth. He just felt lonely, and if Kate was there, somehow it would be more fun for all of them.

He was at the door with his hand raised when there was a knock on it, and he pulled it open and gave her a wry smile. ‘I was just coming to get you,' he said, and she smiled back and went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

‘I'm sorry. I just had some things I needed to do. How far have you got—Oh! It's looking lovely!'

‘Not really. It's a bit sparse and a bit lopsided, and the lights aren't quite even, but, hey. We did it.'

She gave him an encouraging smile and headed towards the tree. ‘You just need a few more little things on it. Oh—what's this?'

‘I made it at school,' Rory told her. ‘It's an angel.'

It was an angel, but it was a pretty scruffy angel, he thought. Kate, though, didn't seem to think any such thing.

She moved it to a more prominent position, rummaged in the box and came up with more red baubles and a fairy, and then after they'd put the baubles on in the gaps she made James stand on a chair and hold Freya up so she could put the fairy on the top.

‘There!' she exclaimed, laughing. ‘Now it's finished.' And she took Freya from him and swung her round, which gave him time to straighten the fairy before he got down and put the chair away.

And swallowed the lump in his throat.

 

Christmas was coming with the speed of an express train.

They spent part of Tuesday rounding up all their things and taking them through into her house, and changing the sheets ready for the family's arrival the next day, Christmas Eve.

And because she only had one spare room, that meant James would be sleeping with the children.

Still, she consoled herself, it was only for two or three nights. The family never stayed for long—not long enough, really, but this time she realised she'd be glad to see them go.

‘Why are we moving into your house?' Rory asked as they sat down for a drink and a biscuit when all the shuffling was done.

‘Because all my brothers and sisters are coming to stay,' she explained. ‘There are lots and lots of them, and some of them are married now and have children, so it's busy.'

‘Why do you have so many lots?'

She laughed and ruffled his hair. ‘Because my parents love children,' she answered honestly, without going into detail. ‘You've met Dan and Rachel and little Sean, haven't you?' He nodded. ‘They're just coming on Christmas Day. And there's my brother Michael and his wife, Louise—they won't stay over, either, but Angie and Joel and Patrick will be here with their other halves, and Patrick's got four children, and Angie's got two, and then there's Lucy, and I'm not sure about Barney. He might be coming, but he's a pilot so he may not be in England, even.'

‘Good grief,' James said, looking stunned. ‘Really that many? Where do they put them all?'

‘Oh, that's just some of them. Some of them won't come, some will drop in, others just ring. Those are the main contenders, though. The hard-core family members who never miss it, come hell or high water. It's a lot of fun, but we all fit in somehow. I hate it when I'm on duty, but because I work locally, I can usually spend some time here, if not all of it. It's great.'

‘That sounds so alien to me. I'm an only child, and Christmas—well, if you blinked, you missed it.'

‘Poor you. That's awful.'

‘I never thought of it like that. It was just how it was. Your mother must be exhausted by the time they go,' he said a little faintly.

She laughed. ‘Actually, she misses them. She loves it.' She tipped her head on one side. ‘So—are you all ready?'

‘Ready?'

‘You know—done the wrapping and so on. When are you seeing your mother?'

‘This evening—so I suppose I ought to sort her things out,' he said, looking preoccupied. ‘Um—I don't suppose you've got any wrapping paper?'

‘Oh, I might have a little left,' she teased, and took it out of the dresser and handed it to him. ‘Sticky tape?'

He just smiled, and she found a reel of tape and added it to the pile. ‘Bows? Tags?'

He snorted. ‘I think that's enough. A couple of tags, maybe. I'll get some later, when we go over there. It's only for her things. I'll do the rest later on, when the children are in bed.'

‘Because it's ours?' Rory asked mischievously, and James tweaked his nose and grinned at him.

‘Maybe.'

‘We're having presents,' he chanted, and she was so relieved to see it, after the Father Christmas letter incident, that she almost joined in.

Then Rory said, ‘Will we put them under your tree, or ours?' and she bit her lip.

‘I don't have a tree,' she confessed, and James looked stunned.

‘You don't? You must have a tree.'

‘I haven't. I never bother. There's one next door, and one in the hall in the house, and one in the drawing room—why would I need a tree here, too?'

‘Because it's Christmas!' Rory said, horrified. ‘Kate, you must. Where will Father Christmas put your presents? Daddy, get her a tree!'

‘I think I will,' he said, his face strangely disturbed. ‘I'll go and do it now. Come on, kids. We're going tree shopping.'

Kate laughed and stood up. ‘We don't go shopping. We grow them on the farm. We'll go and pick one. My uncle Bill will find us a nice one. Come on, then, if you insist. Let's go.'

They bundled up in coats, tramped up through the farm and found her uncle cutting trees in the field behind the Dutch barn.

‘I thought Andrew had come and got a tree for your barn?' he said, so she explained.

‘Oh. So the children need their own, do they?'

‘No, Kate needs one,' Rory explained earnestly, and Bill nodded.

‘Right. Well, I quite agree. Let's find a nice tree for Kate, and then you can go and help her decorate it.'

 

They came back from his mother's armed with presents and found Kate had put the lights on the tree but not the baubles, so they hung them, and then went and retrieved Rory's angel and hung it on the branch at the front, and put all the presents underneath, and then he chivvied the children through the bath and into bed.

They were so tired they fell asleep immediately, and he could easily have joined them.

‘I'm shattered,' he said wearily, finding a smile for Kate when he went back down to the kitchen, and she gave him an answering smile and handed him a glass of wine.

‘It's been a tough few days,' she said. ‘I think we've earned this.'

‘Too right,' he said, following her through to the sitting room and settling on her lovely, comfy sofa. ‘Oh, bliss. Wake me up if I start snoring.'

She laughed. ‘Certainly will. So how was your mother?'

He cracked an eye open, then sat up straighter. ‘Curiously happy,' he admitted. ‘I think she enjoyed the weekend, and she said she was looking forward to babysitting on Boxing Day night when she gets back from her sister's. Will we be back to normal by then, by the way, or will it still be crowded?'

‘Oh, no, I think the barn will be back to normal. The house might not, but most people will have gone.'

He nodded. ‘Good. That'll make it easier having her over.' He stretched out his legs and groaned. ‘The tree looks nice, by the way.'

‘It does. Thank you. I really wouldn't have bothered if you hadn't chivvied me, and I should have thought of the children. It's just that this side of the barn is usually adults, so we don't mind. There are enough trees about the place.'

He chuckled and reached his hand out, threading his fingers through hers. ‘I could get used to this,' he said with a sigh. ‘Sitting here with you in the evenings while the children are asleep upstairs. It'll be really odd when the boiler's fixed and we go home.'

She shifted slightly, turning towards him, and he moved his head so he could meet her eyes. ‘What are you going to do about the consultancy?' she asked quietly.

He searched her eyes, but they were strangely unreadable. ‘I don't know. Apply, I think, when the time comes. I thought I was going to have to do something else about child care, but my mother seems to have turned a corner—I don't know, your mother's given her so much confidence, and we're talking now and she realises how much I appreciate what she's doing—I hadn't really told her, and I think she was just overwhelmed. But if she's all right, and happy to do it long term, then I don't see why we can't manage—especially now her sister seems to be on the mend. And it doesn't matter if the kids get attached to her, because she's their grandmother, and they're supposed to.'

And then he thought about Kate, and how the children were getting attached to her, and to this place, and to her parents, and he felt a shiver of unease run over him. Would they be massively disrupted when they moved back to their own house again?

Would he?

Oh, God. He was letting himself get drawn into this fairy-tale life of hers, but it was just a mirage, and when the mist cleared he'd be alone again. If only he could find a way of convincing her to move back with him, but no one in their right mind would want to take on such a complicated family. Especially not someone orderly like Kate, who had a row of boxes she was systematically ticking.

There was no way they were one of her boxes, and no amount of wishful thinking would change that.

‘I'm bushed,' he told her. ‘I think I need to go to bed.'

‘OK. Sleep well, I'll see you tomorrow,' she said, and leaning over, she touched her lips to his.

It was like a spark to tinder.

‘Oh, Kate,' he groaned, and threading his hands through her hair, he plundered her eager, willing mouth, his body aching for hers, longing to find solace within it, the peace that came afterwards as they lay sprawled together in those few precious minutes before he returned to his own bed.

What would it be like to have the right to stay with her, to sleep with her, to wake with her?

No. She wasn't interested. She didn't want long term.

In your dreams.

His heart heavy, he eased away, brushing the lightest of kisses over her lips before getting to his feet and staring down at her. ‘I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well,' he murmured, and headed for the stairs and solitude.

 

Christmas Eve at the hospital was chaos.

They had the usual flurry of minor surgical emergencies—two hernias, an appendix, a blocked gall bladder that they cleared using an endoscope and a stent to keep the duct patent, and otherwise they were discharging patients as fast as they reasonably could.

Including Jon, who was making excellent progress and couldn't get out quickly enough.

He wasn't alone. Everybody wanted to go home for Christmas, including the staff, and Kate was a firm believer in recovering in familiar surroundings and with familiar pathogens, instead of hospital bugs and noise and an unusual and busy routine.

So they discharged, and they did admin, and then the ward clerk handed her a handful of post.

‘This is for you and Mr McEwan—cards and things.'

‘Thank you,' she murmured, and went through to her office. James was just finishing off a discharge letter, and he looked up as she went in.

‘Cards for you,' she said, handing him the envelopes, and he slit them open.

‘Oh. This is from Jon. “Thank you for all your excellent care. I underestimated what you do. Please pass the enclosed on to the League of Friends. Many thanks.” Wow. Big cheque.'

She stared at it and laughed. ‘Well, that's a turn-up for the books. Who's the next one from?'

‘Tracy,' he said with a grin. ‘She's back with her boyfriend, and she's dyed her hair purple. There's a photo of her.'

He flipped it across the desk so she could see it, and then pulled the other card out of the envelope.