Alison Roberts - Midwives On-Call

‘That’s nuts.’

‘Yeah? So why not organise a divorce? Why not remarry?’

‘Because of you,’ he said, before he could stop himself. ‘Because I still love you.’

She stilled. The whole night seemed to still.

There were people on the foreshore, people on the beach. The queue to the fish-and-chip shop was right behind them. Kids were flying by on their skateboards. Mums and dads were pushing strollers.

Because I still love you …

He reached out and touched her hand lightly, his lovely surgeon’s fingers tracing her work-worn skin. She spent too much time washing, she thought absently. She should use more moisturiser. She should …

Stop blathering. This was too important.

Five years ago they’d walked away from each other. Had it all been some ghastly mistake? Could they just … start again?

‘Em …’ He rose and came round to her side of the table. His voice was urgent now. Pressing home a point? He sat down beside her, took both her hands in his and twisted her to face him. ‘Do you feel it, too?’

Did she feel it? How could she not? She’d married this man. She’d loved him with all her heart. She’d borne him a son.

He was holding her, and his hold was strong and compelling. His gaze was on her, and on her alone.

A couple of seagulls, sensing distraction, landed on the far side of the table and edged towards the fish-and-chip parcel. They could take what they liked, she thought. This moment was too important.

Oliver … Her husband …

‘Em,’ he said again, and his hold turned to a tug. He tugged her as he’d tugged her a thousand times before, as she’d tugged him, as their mutual need meant an almost instinctive coming together of two bodies.

Her face lifted to his—once again instinctively, because this was her husband. She was a part of him, and part of her had never let go. Never thought of letting go.

And his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her and the jolty, nervy, pressurised, outside world faded to absolutely nothing.

There was only Oliver. There was only this moment.

There was only this kiss.

She melted into him—of course she did. Her body had spent five years loving this man and it responded now as if it had once again found its true north. Warmth flooded through her—no, make that heat. Desire, strength and surety.

This man was her home.

This man was her heart.

Except he wasn’t. The reasons they’d split were still there, practical, definite, and even though she was surrendering herself to the kiss—how could she not?—there was still a part of her brain that refused to shut down. Even though her body was all his, even though she was returning his kiss with a passion that matched his, even though her hands were holding him as if she still had the right to hold, that tiny part was saying this was make-believe.

This was a memory of times past.

This would hurt even more when it was over. Tug away now.

But she couldn’t. He was holding her as if she was truly loved. He was kissing her regardless of the surroundings, regardless of the wolf whistles coming from the teenagers at the next table, regardless of … what was true.

It didn’t matter. She needed this kiss. She needed this man.

And then the noise surrounding them suddenly grew. The whistles stopped and became hoots of laughter. There were a couple of warning cries and finally, finally, they broke apart to see …

Their fish …

While they had been otherwise … engaged, seagulls had sneaked forward, grabbing chips from the edge of their unwrapped parcel. Now a couple of braver ones had gone further.

They’d somehow seized the edge of one of their pieces of fish, and dragged it free of the packaging. They’d hauled it out … and up.

There were now five gulls … no, make that six … each holding an edge of the fish fillet. The fish was hovering in the air six feet above them while the gulls fought for ownership. They’d got it, but now they all wanted to go in different directions.

The rest of the flock had risen, too, squawking around them, waiting for the inevitable catastrophe and broken pieces.

Almost every person around them had stopped to look, and laugh, at the flying fish and at the two lovers who’d been so preoccupied that they hadn’t even defended their meal.

A couple more gulls moved in for the kill and the fish almost spontaneously exploded. Bits of fish went everywhere.

Oliver grabbed the remaining parcel, scooping it up before the scraps of flying fish hit, and shooed the gulls away. They were now down to half their chips and only one piece of fish, but he’d saved the day. The crowd hooted their delight, and Oliver grinned, but Em wasn’t thinking about fish and chips, no matter how funny the drama.

How had that happened? It was like they’d been teenagers again, young lovers, so caught up in each other that the world hadn’t existed.

But the world did exist.

‘I believe I’ve saved most of our feast,’ Oliver said ruefully, and she smiled, but her smile was forced. The world was steady again, her real world. For just a moment she’d let herself be drawn into history, into fantasy. Time to move on …

‘We need to concentrate on what’s happening now,’ she said.

‘We do.’ He was watching her, his lovely brown eyes questioning. He always could read her, Em thought, suddenly resentful. He could see things about her she didn’t know herself.

But he’d kept himself to himself. She’d been married to him for five years and she hadn’t known the depth of feeling he’d had about his childhood until the question of adoption had come up. She’d met his adoptive parents, she’d known they were awful, but Oliver had treated them—and his childhood—with light dismissal.

‘They raised me, they gave me a decent start, I got to be a doctor and I’m grateful.’

But he wasn’t. In those awful few weeks after losing Josh, when she’d finally raised adoption as an option, his anger and his grief had shocked them both. It had resonated with such depth and fury it had torn them apart.

So, no, she didn’t know this man. Not then. Not now.

And kissing him wasn’t going to make it one whit better.

He’d said he still loved her. Ten years ago he’d said that, too, and yet he’d walked away, telling her to move on. Telling her to find someone else who could fit in with her dreams.

‘Em, I’d like to—’

‘Have your fish before it gets cold or gets snaffled by another bird?’ She spoke too fast, rushing in before he could say anything serious, anything that matched the look on his face that said his emotions were all over the place. That said the kiss had done something for him that matched the emotions she was feeling. That said their marriage wasn’t over?

But it was over, she told herself fiercely. She’d gone through the pain of separation once and there was no way she was going down that path again. Love? The word itself was cheap, she thought. Their love had been tested, and found wanting. ‘That’s what I need to do,’ she added, still too fast, and took a chip and ate it, even though hunger was the last thing on her mind right now. ‘I need to eat fast and get back to the kids. Oliver, that kiss was an aberration. We need to forget it and move on.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. Have a chip before we lose the lot.’

The kids were asleep when she got home, and so was Adrianna. The house was in darkness. Oliver swung out of the driver’s seat as if he meant to accompany her to the door, but she practically ran.

‘I need my bed, Oliver. Goodnight.’

He was still watching her as she closed the front door. She’d been rude, she admitted as she headed for the children’s bedroom. He’d given her a day out, a day off. If he’d been a stranger she would have spent time thanking him.