Louisa George - One Month to Become a Mum

‘Sounds like he’s a regular miracle worker.’

‘It was a big shock, you know, and such a change for him. He hadn’t a care in the world a few years ago—a big social life, partying.’

‘Partying?’

‘As soon as he had Lucy he put all that behind him. He’s doing so well as a solo parent.’

Aha. Now the fog lifted. ‘Sounds like I’ll be hearing lots more about him over the next few weeks.’ Hopefully like what the heck had happened to Lucy’s mother and how come Luke managed not to have a care in the world when he had a family to provide for?

Jessie looked at the computer clock.

‘I’m five minutes late already.’ She slid her chair back and tried to look like she meant business. ‘I’d better catch up.’

Stacey Phillips shifted in her seat and placed a trembling hand on her three-year-old’s shoulder. ‘For goodness sake, sit still, Kyle, and let the doctor look in your ears.’

‘It’s okay, Mr Wriggle-Bottom, I’ve finished looking now.’ Jessie replaced the auroscope on its charger and smiled at Kyle’s mum. ‘Your instincts were right. Kyle has a slight redness on his eardrum, caused by a viral infection, but it’s nothing serious. Antibiotics won’t be any use because they attack bacteria, not viruses, but paracetamol will help with the pain. Bring him back if things don’t settle down.’ Jessie ruffled the boy’s blond locks, handed him a toy train. ‘Here, Kyle, show Mummy the train while I write in your notes. Choo-choo.’

‘Ahh…. choooooo.’ Kyle sneezed, all over Jessie’s trousers. Great . A snot-coloured sticky patch to match her snot-coloured hair. She bit her lip and held in a smile. Her locum pay had better include laundry bills.

The young mother’s face crumpled, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. ‘I’m so sorry. Really sorry. Kyle, say sorry to the doctor. Naughty boy. Naughty.’

It seemed an extreme reaction to a sneeze. Maybe she was just the anxious type.

‘It’s fine, Stacey. They’ll wash. Worse things happen, believe me. He couldn’t help it.’ Jessie pointed to her shoulder. ‘Sticky patch number one, vomit from a two-year-old. There’s felt tip on my sleeve from an uncoordinated six-year-old. I’ve got four more hours of clinic to get completely covered in gloop. Things are just warming up.’

Stacey seemed appeased by this, but her twitchy demeanour and puffy red face gave Jessie cause for concern. She leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Is there anything else?’

Stacey shook her head, reached for a tissue, wiped her eyes and the boy’s nose. ‘We should go, I suppose, you’re busy.’

But instead of standing up, Stacey stayed where she was, tears refilling her eyes. As she wrung her hands in her lap, her knee jerked up and down apace. ‘Kyle, please for once sit still.’

Ignoring the flashing on her computer announcing that her next client had arrived, Jessie waited. Stacey needed time and space. Phooey to Luke, Patron Saint of Perfectly Run Clinics. Sometimes patients needed extra attention. ‘Are you worried about something, Stacey?’

Stacey’s hand hovered over her mouth as if holding her words in. She bit her lip and looked away. ‘I missed a period.’

‘You think you might be pregnant?’ Jessie lowered her voice to prevent Kyle hearing.

‘Yes. I have sore boobs and I feel sick pretty much all of the time.’ Stacey’s chin quivered. ‘Just like last time.’

‘And you’re not happy about it?’

‘No. My husband’s just left me. I can’t cope with two kiddies on my own.’ She looked over at her three-year-old now sitting on the floor engrossed in The Monster Book of Dragons . ‘I can’t cope with one. I don’t think I want this.’

‘I understand.’ Jessie nodded and a lump wedged under her diaphragm, pressing deep, catching her breath. Dealing with pregnant mums always brought back an echo of the sadness that had lingered in her bones far too long.

It was the small details that had surprised her the most; how, in the pregnancy books, foetal development was measured in terms of fruit. The size of a strawberry, then a lime, then a grapefruit. She used to joke about how she was going to give birth to a fruit salad.

And how being pregnant had been like carrying the happiest secret ever. And that as her belly had swelled so had her heart. Chock full of love for someone she’d never even met.

She squashed the swell of emotions rising in her chest. Now was not the time to remember these things. She would never let her own experiences interfere with her practice. Stacey needed a coherent, competent doctor not a gloomy one.

‘The thing is, I wanted a baby, my husband didn’t.’ Stacey’s lip wobbled. ‘I thought I could convince him, but all we did was argue.’

‘Sometimes life gets hard, Stacey. I know. Truly.’

Stacey ripped a tissue into fragments and let them drop onto her lap like a tiny snowdrift. ‘I can’t have a baby. It’s not the right time. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

‘Whatever happens, you’ll get through this. Trust me.’ It did get easier, she knew that from painful experience. It was amazing what you could survive.

Jessie picked up the tissue scraps and put them in the bin, then took hold of Stacey’s hand. ‘Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. First, I’ll get Maggie to do a pregnancy test.’

‘Oh, no.’ The colour drained from Stacey’s blotchy face. ‘Not Maggie. She’s my husband’s aunt and word spreads so fast here. North Beach is a small town. Small minds make big gossip, my mum used to say. I don’t want him knowing. Not yet. Not until I’ve got my head around it. Please don’t tell anyone.’

‘Of course not, although I will have to write something in your notes. But seeing as this is Kyle’s consult, I can’t think why anyone would need to look at your information. Rest assured, Stacey, I’m here to help. And I won’t tell a soul.’

Luke regarded the view of the swamp pixie’s taut derrière as she stretched to the back of the drug cupboard, and tried to ignore the fizz of heat in his abdomen.

What the heck was going on with his body these days?

He almost groaned in frustration. Weird. He couldn’t remember his hormones ever being this out of sync with his brain.

He battled against this unfamiliar surge of lust. Yes, she was hot. But there were plenty of hot women around.

It felt like over the last two years every emotion had been caught in a weird freeze-frame and now someone— Jessie —had flicked a switch on his awareness scale. And it had spiked.

Inconvenient. And temporary, he’d make sure of that. Dragging back the memory of her odd behaviour that morning, he attempted to activate his ‘off’ switch. As he glanced at her butt again the switch refused to budge.

Damned irritating. All his knowledge of Jessie so far suggested she was a typical, selfish drifter type. Just like Chloe. Endlessly appealing and ethereal. Promising everything and giving nothing. Oh, except a baby to look after.

Professional courtesy deemed he remove his eyes from Jessie’s backside and make polite conversation. ‘How’s it going? Got over this morning’s drama?’

Jessie twisted and peered up at him. The tight corkscrew hair had softened and tendrils framed her face, giving an almost angelic impression. Apart from an odd milky smudge on her shoulder and a large stain on her knee. And the far from angelic stare.

The pulse at her slender throat beat a rapid tattoo and it took a mammoth effort not to place his hand on it, count the beats, touch her skin. But he managed it.

An eyebrow rose as she spoke. ‘Um. What? Sorry?’

‘Ah, nothing. Forget it.’

‘Forgotten already.’ She turned her back to the cupboard and fumbled in her pocket. Then quickly walked away. Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks red?