Caroline Anderson - Once More, With Feeling

She opened her drawer and pulled out some sandwiches.

‘You don’t want to come with me and grab a snack at home and a quick stroll over the hill?’

It sounded lovely, just the way they had spent their honeymoon, but she forced herself to shake her head. This was hardly the way to start, and working with him would be hard enough without encouraging little intimate walks over the hills.

‘I think not,’ she said as firmly as she could manage, and with a rueful grin he left her alone, wondering if she’d lost her marbles completely or if it just seemed that way.

She should have known to trust his instincts, she thought as she studied the couple opposite her.

They were in their thirties, a very average professional couple, but the way the consultation was going was far from average.

‘Of course,’ Mr Blake was saying, ‘we’d probably stand more chance of having another child if the first one wasn’t always in our bed.’

Mrs Blake’s eyes slid away, and Emily’s own instincts prickled. Her attention switched to the woman.

‘How old is your child?’

‘Four—and she has terrible nightmares. If we don’t have her in bed with us, she wakes screaming and it takes ages to settle her down again.’

‘Not that long,’ her husband argued.

‘No, well, it isn’t you that ends up doing it,’ she returned bitterly. ‘You just lie there on your back snoring your head off and complain that I’ve woken you with the creaky boards—though if you’d ever put them down again properly after you fixed that pipe they wouldn’t creak—’

‘I think we’re rather getting off the point,’ Emily interjected gently but firmly. ‘I have a son of six, and when his father died recently he was very upset. He started getting into bed with me at night, and I could see this becoming a pattern, so what I did was when he woke I got into his bed for a little while and gave him a cuddle, then slipped out again when he’d gone off. If he came to me, I’d carry him back once he’d settled.’

She regarded the couple in front of her. ‘It worked for us—it might work for you. I certainly don’t think you can leave a child upset in the middle of the night, but to allow her presence to affect your relationship to this extent I think is probably not healthy either for the child or for you—’

‘Not healthy?’ Mr Blake bristled. ‘Are you accusing us of abusing her or something?’

‘No, of course not,’ Emily soothed. ‘I’m simply suggesting that a better sleep-pattern, undisturbed by a frightened child, or more opportunities to concentrate on the physical aspect of your relationship might be emotionally and physically healthier for all of you.’

‘Well, it wasn’t my idea to have her in bed with us in the first place, and she’s much worse now than she used to be.’

‘And I suppose that’s my fault!’ Mrs Blake said defensively—too defensively.

Clearly, Emily thought, she wasn’t going to get anywhere until she split these two up—and perhaps a word with the intuitive Dr Trevellyan might be in order.

‘I don’t seem to have all your notes here,’ she said blandly to them. ‘If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll just go and see what I can find in the office.’

She nipped out of the door and down the corridor. Sue was on the reception desk, and Emily asked if she knew where David was.

‘In his office—he’s alone, so if you want to go in you can. I think he’s half expecting you.’

She knocked on the door and went in. ‘You were right,’ she said directly.

‘The Blakes? What’s the problem?’

‘He’s complaining that they can’t have another child because the first is still coming into their bed at night and so they don’t have the opportunity. Reading between the lines, I would say Mrs Blake isn’t keen anyway. Apparently they’ve been trying for over a year.’

David’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Have they, indeed? So why did she come and see me six months ago for another diaphragm?’

Emily’s jaw dropped, and then she nodded. ‘Oh, that figures. The child’s a smokescreen—she’s using her so she doesn’t have to sleep with her husband—or, at least, can only sleep.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Hmm?’

‘I heard a rumour—it might be nothing, but she could be having an affair.’

Emily’s mouth formed a round O. ‘Tricky.’

‘Very. I’ll give you the details later. Split them up, send him in to me for a physical, and get her to spill the beans.’

‘OK. Now?’

‘Yeah, send him straight in. I’ll return him to the waiting-room.’

She went back and sent Mr Blake to David, then confronted Mrs Blake.

‘OK. On your notes it says you have a diaphragm. I’ve spoken to Dr Trevellyan; he confirmed it.’

Panic flared in the woman’s eyes. ‘He won’t tell Neil, will he? I mean, it is confidential?’

‘Of course he won’t tell him. And clearly you haven’t, or else you wouldn’t be here today talking about infertility.’

She let the silence stretch, then Mrs Blake gave a shaky sigh and reluctantly met Emily’s eyes. ‘I don’t want another baby,’ she said slowly. ‘At least, not Neil’s.’

‘Things don’t seem all sweetness and light between you,’ Emily acknowledged.

The woman gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘You could say that. It was OK for a while, we struggled along making the best of it, but then—there’s someone else, someone I love—’ She pressed her fingers to her mouth, clearly upset, and Emily settled back in the chair.

‘Take your time,’ she said reassuringly.

‘He’s wonderful—warm, tender, understanding.’ She paused. ‘He’s also married.’

‘Ah.’

‘His wife’s disabled. He loves her, but like a sister, you know? Not that there could be anything else between them. She’s got multiple sclerosis, and she’s—well, she’s bad.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Emily’s soft heart went out to the unknown woman whose husband apparently loved her, but not enough to stay at home.

‘She’s permanently bedridden now—she’s incontinent and her limbs are very spastic. She finds swallowing difficult, and she’s very depressed.’ Ann Blake looked at Emily. ‘I’d hate her to find out about us, but Richard’s coping all alone and someone has to help him through it. He gives her so much, not just his time but friendship, support—he gets really depressed. That was how it started, really—he was sitting in the park, and I was out with Jane and the dog. He looked so bleak, so alone. We started to talk, and …’

Ann paused, her face softening. ‘He laughed, for the first time in months, he said. I saw him again by accident, and then we began arranging to meet, always quite innocently. We never meant this to happen.’

‘But it did.’

‘Yes. And all I want is to be with him, but I can’t.’

‘And meanwhile you’re living with a man you no longer love, who wants to have another child.’

She nodded, and her eyes filled. ‘What can I do? Richard can’t leave Jenny, and I can’t afford to leave Neil and live on my own with Jane. Anyway, he’d probably want custody and she loves him.’

‘Is it fair to her to use her as a smokescreen?’

There was silence for a long while, then Mrs Blake shook her head. ‘No—no, of course not. I didn’t even realise I was doing it until just now. It was only when you suggested that if we put her back in her own bed it would give our physical relationship a chance that I realised how badly I didn’t want that to happen.’

Emily eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Mrs Blake, when did you and your husband last make love?’

She snorted. ‘We don’t make love, Dr Thompson. We had sex back in—June? July? And that was the first time since Easter.’