The Midwife And The Single Dad (13 page)

The leg was twisted and swollen but fortunately there was no bone protruding through the skin. Alice ran her hands gently over the site and winced. It felt like a complicated fracture—there was damage to the soft tissues around the break. This could be just as serious as the break itself. And Fiona was still young, at an age when bones could heal themselves more easily. But the damage to the soft tissues was bad.

Alice took one of Fiona’s tiny toes, pinched the nail. The nail went white—but when Alice released it, did not promptly turn pink again. Poor capillary return. Blood wasn’t circulating as it should, presumably because of an obstruction caused by the break. There was bleeding into the tissues. Alice grimaced. If the poor capillary return remained, it wasn’t impossible that Fiona might lose her leg.

She had to do something! But this was not an A and E department with skilled staff, the battery of monitoring machines that kept constant vigilance over a patient’s state. There was just Mrs McCann and herself. She didn’t even dare wait for Ben to return. So Mrs McCann and she would have to manage.

‘We’re going to have to reduce the fracture,’ she told the older lady. ‘That means we have to pull the injured leg and straighten it. Then we have to tie the two legs together so that the whole one acts as a splint for the injured one. I can’t do it on my own. You’ll have to help me.’

Mrs McCann looked worried. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the doctor?’

‘I’d love to. But this is an emergency. It’s what he’d want us to do.’

Alice settled her patient on her back and then moved to the end of the couch, by Fiona’s feet. ‘Hold her shoulders,’ she told Mrs McCann. ‘Hold them gently but firmly.’ Then she took hold of the injured leg.

It took a while but she did it. She had no splint but once the legs were in position, she tied them together with bandages. It seemed to be a competent job. When pinched, the toe nail now showed instant capillary return. The immediate crisis was over.

Alice sat back, wiped her face with her handkerchief. She had managed. But it was the kind of job she never wanted to do again. She took one of Fiona’s hands, held it.

It didn’t seem long before she heard the sound of a car racing up the drive, the bang of the front door, footsteps running down the corridor. ‘In the living room, Ben,’ she called.

Ben rushed into the room, bent over to look at the sleeping Fiona. Alice could tell that he was distraught but had to admire his strength and self-control as he turned to her and asked, ‘How have things been, Alice?’ Good. For a moment they could be doctor and nurse.
She gave her report as clinically as she would have in a hospital A and E department.

He listened to her and then examined Fiona, apparently just as detached as he would be if he was in the same department.

Fiona marvelled at his self-control, thought that it was almost inhuman. Then she saw the way his hands were trembling, and she understood.

‘I think you’ve done a great job, Alice. I couldn’t have done anything more myself.’ Then he became a father, not a doctor. Now his voice was shaking and in his eyes Alice could see the glint of tears. He bent over, kissed his daughter, stroked her pale forehead.

There was a tap on the door and Mrs McCann came in. When had she left? Alice wondered. She hadn’t even noticed. And Mrs McCann was in tears herself. ‘Is she all right, Dr Cavendish? It was all my fault. I should have been watching her and I—’

‘It wasn’t your fault, Mrs McCann. Accidents happen, especially to children. You ask Alice here. We just have to hope that all will be well. You did a great job. Alice has been telling me that she couldn’t have managed without you. I hope you know how important your contribution was.’

‘I just sat there and held her.’

‘That was what was needed. Now, something more you can do for us. A couple of mugs of tea?’

‘Right!’ Mrs McCann set off back to her kitchen, obviously feeling that things were now better.

He turned to Alice. ‘It was good of you to come out so quickly.’

‘Ben! Don’t be silly! I’d come for anyone, but especially for Fiona.’ The words had to slip out. ‘I love her, Ben.’

‘So do I. God, how I love her.’ He shook his head, horror showing in his face. ‘For a while I thought there was the vague chance that I might lose her. And the very idea. I just couldn’t cope.’

‘But you haven’t lost her, she’s going to be all right. What was it like, driving across the island after Mrs McCann phoned you?’

‘I can’t remember much of the journey. All I knew was that I had to get here. Then I thought that you would probably be here and that calmed me just a little.’

The door opened and Mrs McCann brought in their two mugs of tea. There was also a large plate of buttered scones. ‘How did you manage this so quickly?’ Alice asked, waving at the scones.

‘Thought you might like something to keep your strength up,’ Mrs McCann said, before disappearing.

Alice had thought she wasn’t hungry then she took the first mouthful of scone and discovered she was ravenous. Ben was the same.

When they had demolished the pile of scones, Ben said, ‘This is another lesson for me. Or it’s the same message I learned from my ex-wife Melissa. It’s a mistake to love anyone too much. It’s so easy to lose them. I’ve got Fiona, of course, but now I know it’s just her and me against the world.’

Where does that leave me? Alice wondered. Two against the world—couldn’t that be three? But she didn’t say anything.

Ben took the next day off work and took Fiona on the ferry to the mainland. He’d arranged an appointment at the nearest hospital. The paediatric orthopaedic consultant said that Fiona had been very well treated and he saw no reason why she should not make a complete recovery. Ben phoned the news to Alice immediately and told her how complimentary the consultant had been about her reducing the fracture.

‘That’s good to know,’ Alice said. ‘Ben, I’ve got a suggestion. When you come back tonight, why not leave Fiona in my clinic for a few days? There’s plenty of room and you know that Mrs McCann needs a bit of a rest. She’d only fret if Fiona was left with her.’

‘Great idea! But it’s more work for you. Sure you don’t mind?’

‘I’m certain I don’t mind,’ Alice said. Only when he had rung off did she wonder exactly why she wanted Fiona to stay. Certainly she thought it would be good for the little girl. But she knew that Ben would be in and out of her clinic. She’d see a lot of him.

And that was what happened. Fiona loved it in the clinic. She had no end of visits and Ben was always popping in. Alice liked this, too, though she knew that Ben was coming in to see his daughter and not her. She could accept that, it was fair. Still, he always stopped for a chat with her when he called.

Perhaps she should invite him for dinner again?

After four days Fiona was moved back to Mrs McCann’s care. The day after that Ben brought her some flowers to say thank you from him and Fiona. Roses this
time. And he gave her an invitation. ‘Would you like to come with me on a social visit this evening?’ he asked. ‘Well, half social, half professional. You social, me professional. Sort of.’

‘Social visit? Who to? Where? I’m intrigued.’ She was also rather pleased. A social evening with Ben.

‘I want to surprise you. Pick you up about seven?’ So it was arranged.

She decided not to dress in her uniform but in something a little more fetching. She picked a pink summer dress and white sandals. She knew the outfit did a lot for her. She was looking forward to her surprise.

He picked her up punctually, drove her to a village about ten miles away. He parked, picked up a large bunch of flowers from the back seat and asked her to hold them. ‘Not for you, I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘but I’d like you to give them.’

‘I might have bought flowers myself if I’d known where we were going,’ she said, slightly nettled.

‘Sorry.’ He grinned, obviously not sorry at all. ‘And I’m afraid the flowers are from you, not me. I’m the professional, you’re the guest. Smell them—aren’t they something else?’

She did smell them and they were something else.

The were parked outside a tiny whitewashed cottage. It had an attractive pebbled front, with plants in pots and a garden seat. Ben knocked and Alice at once recognised who opened the door. Miss Morven!

She was now an old lady. Her once jet-black hair was now grey, but carefully cut. She wore a smart matching grey dress. She was also wore sunglasses, which rather
surprised Alice. Sunglasses inside a house? It seemed to be an affectation that wasn’t typical. Miss Morven had been her and Ben’s primary-school teacher and she had always seemed full of common sense.

Miss Morven smiled at them, her head cocked slightly to one side.

‘It’s Ben Cavendish,’ Ben said, ‘and I’ve brought another of your ex-pupils to say hello.’ Why did Ben have to introduce himself? Surely Miss Morven could… Then it all fell into place. Alice felt great sadness, a sense of desolation. Head cocked, dark glasses, Ben introducing himself? Miss Morven was blind.

‘Lovely of you to come to see me, Ben. And this is?’

‘You won’t remember me, Miss Morven, but I was in your class.’

‘Of course I remember you. It’s Alice…Alice Muir. Come on in, dear, I’ve heard great things about you since you left. Midwife and children’s nurse? You’re certainly doing well. Ben told me all about you.’

They walked into the living room, Alice still slightly shocked. ‘These flowers are for you,’ she said, offering them.

Miss Morven reached out, felt for them and took them. Then she smelled them. ‘They’re lovely. There’s roses…and lilies…and night-flowering stock. I can tell them all.’ After smelling them, Miss Morven ran her fingers from blossom to blossom, caressing each flower with the lightest of touches.

For some reason that made Alice feel sad. ‘Would you like me to put them in water for you?’ she asked.

There was a hint of the teacher Miss Morven had
been in her reply. ‘I’m blind, not helpless, Alice. I’ll take the flowers and I’ll make us all some tea. You can stop a while?’

‘Alice is here as a visitor,’ Ben said. ‘But I’m here as a friend and a doctor as well. I’ve got a call to make in a house two streets away and I thought I’d have a look at you at the same time.’

‘I’d phone if I was really ill,’ Miss Morven said reprovingly. ‘But it’s kind of you to call. Now, sit down while I see to these flowers and fetch the tea.’

Alice sat, then looked around the room they were in. An ordinary, pleasant living room, no different from any other, scrupulously clean. There was even a television set. The only sign of Miss Morven’s ailment was a white stick in the umbrella stand.

Miss Morven brought the tea in on a tray, placed it carefully on an occasional table. She sat and poured it out, handed cups to Alice and Ben. Then there were small plates with a napkin on each and carefully sliced cake. Alice had to smile. Miss Morven had always been exact, precise in her movements. And neat! Alice doubted that there had ever been a single pupil who had left Miss Morven’s class without having the value of neatness instilled in them.

‘You seem very comfortable here, Miss Morven,’ Alice said.

‘I am indeed. Now, do you take sugar? Then tell me about this new idea you’re bringing to Soalay. What is a birthing unit?’

They chatted a while about old pupils and then Ben took Miss Morven into her bedroom. ‘Just a quick
check-up,’ he said, ‘and then I must go and see my other patient.’ They came back into the living room ten minutes later and Ben told Alice that Miss Morven was as fit as a woman half her age. Miss Morven obviously thought this a compliment—but one that was deserved.

Ben took up his doctor’s bag. ‘I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘You two chat till I come back.’ Then he was gone and Miss Morven and Alice were alone.

‘Tell me what it’s like, coming back to the island after fifteen years,’ Miss Morven said.

It was a question Alice had been asked often. And she often pondered on the changes, wondered if they were all for the better.

‘Well, I’ve met a lot of old school friends,’ she said. ‘And most of them seem to have had babies. It makes me feel that I’m missing something.’

‘Plenty of time yet,’ Miss Morven consoled.

‘There’s more money about, more willingness to look to a future knowing that they have one here. The island is coming alive. Not as many have left as I thought would leave, and quite a few have come back to stay. Like Ben.’

‘And like you.’

‘Not me.’ Alice thought it important to emphasise this point. ‘I’m here for a year and then it’s back to London. Perhaps I’ll come back for the occasional holiday.’

‘Of course. But we will see. You used to be very close to Ben, didn’t you? I knew you were both children but I thought…there was something there that would be lasting. And there still is, isn’t there?’

‘No. You’re wrong. There’s nothing between Ben and me.’ She hadn’t intended it to happen but Alice’s
answer came out with more force than she had intended. She waited a moment and then said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘You weren’t being rude, dear, you were making yourself clear. And I like that. Still…’

Miss Morven rose and walked confidently to an old dresser, took a thick book from a drawer. She offered it to Alice. ‘I kept a record of all my classes,’ she said. ‘You and Ben are on page twenty-nine.’

Alice leafed through the book. Yes, there was her class, standing proudly on the steps of their tiny school. And there she was and there was Ben. Both were recognisable. And they both looked hopeful and untouched by life.

Silently, she handed the book back to Miss Morven.

‘You know,’ Miss Morven said conversationally, ‘it’s odd, I don’t really find being blind is a handicap. You lose your sight but your other senses become more acute. I can hear far more than people realise they are saying. And I can hear and I can feel the relationship between you and Ben Cavendish.’

Alice had to ask. ‘What can you feel? Ben and I are doctor and nurse and otherwise just good friends.’

‘You know very well what I can feel,’ Miss Morven said, shaking her head. ‘You just have to admit it to yourselves. Now, would you like more tea and another slice of cake? I made the cake myself.’