Maggie Kingsley - Doctor And Son

‘I can’t—and I won’t—live off you, David,’ she’d told him when he’d protested at her decision—and had protested even more when he’d seen the flat. ‘It’s time I was independent.’

He’d agreed eventually, had even paid her first month’s rent, and now he hadn’t got the promotion he deserved because the administration at the Merkland didn’t like his innovative ideas.

‘David, couldn’t you—?’

‘You haven’t told me how you got on at the Belfield.’

Who was changing the subject now? she thought, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about his own problems so obediently she told him. Told him every single, humiliating incident, and by the end, to her surprise, she was laughing about it as much as he was.

‘Honestly, love, when you mess things up, you really go for it,’ he exclaimed, wiping the laughter from his eyes. ‘This Gideon bloke sounds all right, though. How old is he—fifty—sixty—nearing retirement?’

‘Late thirties, I’d guess, but I don’t see—’

‘Good-looking—pot ugly? Look, just answer the question, OK?’ David continued when she looked even more confused.

‘Ordinary-looking, I guess, but tall—very tall—with brown hair. Well, it’s more sort of beech nut brown, really,’ she amended, ‘with little flecks of grey at the sides. His eyes are brown, too. A kind of hazel brown—’

‘Not that you noticed, of course.’

Her brother’s eyes were dancing, and she gave him a very hard stare. ‘David…’

‘Pretty junior doctor Annie Hart arrives for her first day at work and falls headlong into the arms of tall, ordinary—but apparently not all that ordinary—consultant Gideon Caldwell. Their eyes meet across a bedpan—’

‘And he hits her with it because she’s the ward dork,’ she finished dryly. ‘David, Mr Caldwell would never be interested in me in a million years. And even if he was, I certainly wouldn’t be interested in him.’

‘Annie, not all obs and gynae consultants are rats,’ her brother protested, ‘and giving up on men because of what happened to you in Manchester is crazy. You’re only twenty-eight. That’s way too young to have stopped dating.’

‘You date enough for both of us,’ she said with a laugh, then quickly put her hand up to her brother’s lips to silence him. ‘David, you’re my big brother, and I love you dearly, but I’ve got my son, and you, and now I’ve got a job. I don’t need anything else.’

And she didn’t, she thought when David went home still muttering under his breath.

She’d vowed four years ago never to let another man into her life. Never to let anyone get close enough to hurt her the way Nick had, and she’d meant it. She’d loved him so much. Believed him when he’d said he loved her. Trusted him when he’d said he was getting a divorce. And then he’d walked away, leaving her with nothing.

No, not with nothing, she thought wryly, picking up one of Jamie’s toys. Jamie had been the accidental result of one of their nights of love-making, and despite everything she could never regret him.

Yes, the last four years had been tough, but things were starting to look up. Gideon Caldwell could have fired her today, and he hadn’t. Jamie could have hated the day-care centre, and he’d loved it. It was going to be all right. If she could just hold onto this job, everything might finally be all right.

‘DON’T want to go to the day centre. Want to stay home with Mummy.’

Annie glanced at the kitchen clock then back to her son’s truculent face with a groan. She didn’t need this, not today. Not when Gideon had asked her to sit in on his morning clinic for the very first time.

‘I thought you liked the centre. You said the toys were terrific—’

‘Don’t want to go. Don’t like it there any more.’

Annie put his cereal bowl in the sink, her brain working overtime.

‘I could collect you early today,’ she suggested. ‘I should be finished at the hospital around two o’clock, and after I’ve done some quick shopping—’ frantic, more like ‘—I could collect you at three.’

Jamie didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked even more truculent. ‘I’ve got a sore tummy.’

‘I’m not surprised considering how fast you ate your breakfast.’

‘I mean a really sore tummy. And a sore head.’

She stared at him uncertainly. He’d been perfectly fine when he’d got up this morning, and he looked perfectly fine now, but…

‘Wait here while Mummy gets her thermometer,’ she ordered.

‘Don’t want the termoneter,’ Jamie yelled after her. ‘Want to stay home.’

And I’m the worst mother in the world, Annie thought when she’d taken his temperature and found it to be normal. It was obvious what was happening. The novelty of going to the centre had worn off and this was Jamie’s way of telling her he felt abandoned, but what could she do? She had to work to keep a roof over their heads. She couldn’t keep on relying on David for the rest of her life.

‘Sweetheart, Mummy has to work—you know she does.’

‘You never did when we stayed with Uncle David,’ Jamie argued, his face beginning to crumple.

‘Look, if you’re a good boy and go to the centre, I’ll buy you that pudding you like for tea,’ she said swiftly. ‘The one with the chocolate bits in it?’

And now I’m bribing him, she thought, seeing Jamie’s face miraculously clear. Bribing my own son. But I don’t have time for this. Dr Dunwoody is only just speaking to me after the tea trolley disaster on Monday, and if I’m late…

‘Can I have chips for my tea, too?’ Jamie asked as she helped him on with his coat. ‘And beans—can I have beans with my chips?’

Beans and chips, and chocolate pudding. The hospital nutritionist would faint clean away at the sound of that diet, but if she said no she’d never get Jamie to the centre.

‘OK, but only for today as a special treat,’ she replied, salving her conscience. ‘Now, remember—’

‘Not to sing or shout going down the stairs, ’cos Mrs Patterson will come out wearing her grumpy face.’

Annie’s heart constricted as she stared down at her son. He was only four. He should be able to run and play whenever he wanted, but their landlady had made her feelings only too plain when they’d moved into the flat above hers.

‘It was bad enough when I rented the place to those university students,’ she’d sniffed. ‘Playing their stereos at all hours of the day and night, never shutting a door when they could bang it, but I refuse to have my eardrums blasted by a screaming child. No offence meant, Ms Hart, but I’ve always been a firm believer in speaking my mind.’

And speak it she had. Constantly.

But at least not today. For once Annie managed to tiptoe down the stairs and past Mrs Patterson’s door without having to endure her usual catalogue of complaints. She’d undoubtedly have to hear them when she arrived home this afternoon, but at least she’d missed them this morning. Now all she had to do was to get Jamie to the centre, and herself to the hospital on time.

A task she had about as much hope of achieving as flying, she realised, glancing down at her watch with a groan.

‘Where have you been?’ Liz exclaimed when Annie flew into the staffroom at ten past eight. ‘I’ve been stalling for you as long as I could but—’

‘Is Woody blowing a fuse?’ Annie interrupted, throwing her coat over one of the staffroom chairs.

‘Luckily for you she’s been on the telephone for the past fifteen minutes, trying to discover what’s happened to the X-rays she ordered for Mrs Douglas. It’s Gideon I’ve been stalling, and by now he must think you’ve got severe bladder problems.’