Alison Roberts - The Doctor's Secret Family

‘Good luck,’ he’d said finally. He paused as he turned away. ‘I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Douglas.’

‘I’m Hannah Campbell,’ she responded. ‘And thanks. Good luck to you, too.’

The charm of that encounter hung around Hannah. Quite apart from being devastatingly attractive, Jack Douglas had been so nice . He had gone out of his way to help her despite needing help himself. And he had made her laugh when she’d been feeling anything but relaxed. The combination had created a magic that had stayed with Hannah well after the door had closed again behind him.

* * *

She slammed the car door with unnecessary vigour but a punctuation point was definitely in order. There was no point in raking over old coals and Hannah had left the remains of that blaze alone for so long now she was surprised to find the memory so vivid. Maybe if she’d been prepared for seeing Jack again she could have thrown some extra protection into place. On the other hand, maybe letting things surface so that she could deal with them once and for all was healthier. The reminder of an important lesson, no matter how well learned, was never a complete waste of time or energy.

And the worst was over now. She had seen Jack Douglas again. Had acknowledged that he looked and sounded pretty much the same. And she hadn’t been attracted. Not one tiny bit. The relief she’d experienced walking away from him had been palpable. It was still with her now twenty minutes later as she walked towards the old converted villa that housed the Maysfield Child Care Centre. The moment she walked inside and saw her daughter, the resolve that she would never let anything—or anyone—threaten what they had was strengthened to the point where Hannah felt invincible. She would deal with this because there was simply no other choice.

‘Mummy!’ A small face shone with delight and Hannah held out her arms to catch Olivia’s headlong rush. ‘I made you something, Mummy. You can eat it.’

‘Fabulous. I’m starving.’ Hannah hoped it wasn’t a sand pie decorated with marigold petals like the one she had been presented with in the sandpit last week.

‘It’s quite safe.’ Shirley Smith, the owner-operator of the child care centre, grinned at Hannah. ‘We’ve been in the kitchen this afternoon.’

‘They’re butterfly cakes, Mummy. Come and look ! They’re be-yootiful.’

Hannah had to agree. The tops of the Madeira cake muffins had been sliced off and halved, to be positioned in the icing later as wings. Jelly beans had made colourful bodies and feelers had been created from tiny strips of liquorice.

‘I made two, Mummy. One for you and one for me.’

‘Shall we save them for later? A special treat for supper?’ Hannah could see the battle the decision-making process caused but her smile was automatic. Had she really never noticed before how similar Olivia’s eyes were to her father’s? Perhaps the fact that they were framed by blond hair had made the comparison less obvious. And she had never credited her daughter’s curls to Jack either. She was just Livvy—her gorgeous, lovable and incredibly precious child. Impulsively, she gathered the small body into her arms again and kissed the soft, fluffy curls. ‘Thank you for making me a butterfly cake, darling. Love you.’

‘Love you, too.’ Olivia wriggled free. ‘Let’s go home, Mummy. I want to count the daff-dils.’

Shirley walked out to the car-parking area with them. ‘Did you see the van?’

‘No. Has it arrived, then?’ Hannah looked around at Shirley’s smile. She must have been very preoccupied on her arrival not to spot the minibus parked in the corner. The paint job with the centre’s name surrounded by bright cartoon characters was eye-catching. ‘It looks great!’

‘We’re going to start the school runs next week.’

‘I’m so pleased.’ Hannah lifted Olivia onto her booster seat in the back of the car and fastened her safety belt. ‘I was dreading having to make other arrangements when Livvy starts school.’ The centre’s hours of 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. had been brilliant for Hannah and after nearly four years of coming here it was a second home for Olivia. The staff were caring and Shirley was a firm part of the family now.

‘I’m not sure about the roster for driving yet. I think Lucy’s a bit young at nineteen but some of the others are just as keen. I’m also having to decide how many schools we open the service to. I don’t want numbers to climb too much.’

Hannah nodded. Olivia had been one of the first clients of Shirley’s business. The numbers had climbed steadily over the years but there were never more than about twenty children at any one time. If too many parents took advantage of having the hours before and after school catered for then the atmosphere of the centre might change.

‘Just don’t leave Maysfield Primary off the list. Livvy’s enrolled there.’

‘That’s the closest school so it’ll be first. It may be enough by itself for the moment. I might wait and see what the numbers are like.’ Shirley leaned into the car to give Olivia a kiss. ‘Bye, sweetheart. See you tomorrow.’

Olivia balanced the small box containing the butterfly cakes on her knee and chattered non-stop until they arrived home. Hannah parked her small hatchback outside the old stable and then released her daughter, who ran straight to where the copper beech was unfurling its bright, velvety new leaves. She crouched amongst the numerous spears of green foliage beneath the tree and the triumphant shout made Hannah grin. Olivia knew her numbers perfectly well, she was just too excited to take the time needed to recite them all in order.

‘One, two, four, seven…nine. There’s nine daff-dils now, Mummy.’

‘Would you like to pick some to take in for Shirley tomorrow?’

‘Ooh, yes. I love picking flowers.’

‘I know.’ Hannah didn’t mind that the golden blooms would vanish. There were plenty more buds ready to open and take their place. And it didn’t matter that the flowers were beheaded without much stalk length. Shirley was bound to have a short jam jar to put them in. The pleasure of watching Olivia’s face as she concentrated on making yet another gift was too great to interfere with. Did other children gain such intense satisfaction from giving? Hannah doubted it. Olivia was special. Such a happy, loving little girl that she could only enhance the lives of anyone privileged enough to know her.

‘Let’s put them in some water for now.’ Hannah led the way beneath the ancient wisteria vine that festooned the bull-nosed verandah of the 1860s cottage. The narrow hallway led past the original four rooms with their glowing kauri flooring and joinery which Hannah had painstakingly stripped of countless layers of paint. It finished at the north-facing addition to the cottage that had been a celebration of gaining her senior registrar post at Christchurch Central. The inadequate lean-to kitchen and bathroom facilities had been replaced and the kitchen she and Olivia entered now was a sunny, open space with a dining area to one side of French doors leading to a bricked courtyard garden.

Two cats, one completely black and the other white, were waiting patiently near the fridge.

‘Hello, Sooty. Hello, Snow.’ Olivia dropped to a crouch again to haul each cat into her arms for a cuddle that was gentle enough to be well received.

Hannah rescued the abandoned daffodils and put them into a glass of water. She looked up to find Olivia’s face sporting an expression remarkably similar to Sooty’s and Snow’s.

‘I’m hungry, Mummy. Can I have a biscuit?’

‘It’s nearly dinnertime, darling.’

‘Please?’

‘Just one, then. I’m going to get changed and then we can go and feed the hens.’