Читать книгу The Midwife's Christmas Baby - Kate Hardy - Страница 16

BY WEDNESDAY MORNING, the frustration was too much for Oliver. Usually he was self-contained, but right now he really needed to talk this over, preferably with someone he could trust to keep this to themselves.

The best person he could think of was Sebastian. Prince Sebastian Falco of Montanari had been one of his best friends since they’d met during Seb’s first week at university, when Oliver had been nearing the end of his medical degree; they’d hit it off immediately, despite the four-year difference in their ages. Given his position as the heir to the kingdom of Montanari, Sebastian knew about the importance of privacy. And it didn’t matter that Sebastian and Oliver hadn’t actually seen each other for a few months; they always picked up their friendship exactly where they’d left off.

Oliver looked at the scan photograph again, then picked up his mobile phone and called Sebastian’s private number.

To his relief the prince answered immediately. ‘Hello, Olly. How are you?’

All over the place. Not that Oliver was going to admit it. ‘Fine, fine,’ he fibbed. ‘Seb, have I caught you in the middle of something, or do you have a few minutes?’

‘I’ve probably got about ten minutes,’ Sebastian said ruefully, ‘and then I really do have to be in a meeting. It’s good to hear from you, Olly. How are things?’

‘Complicated,’ Oliver said wryly.

‘Would this be as in female complications?’ Sebastian asked. ‘Or is it the new job?’

‘Both—and thank you for the case of champagne, by the way.’

‘It’s the least I could do,’ Sebastian said. ‘So what are these complications? I take it that’s why you’re ringing me—to get an impartial point of view?’

‘And a bit of perspective.’ Oliver blew out a breath. He really didn’t know where to start. Or maybe he should just do the whole mixed-up lot at once. ‘It’s crazy at work, what with the winter vomiting virus wiping out half the staff, and Sienna’s going on maternity leave any day now. And I’m going to be a father.’

There was silence on the other end of the line.

‘Seb? Are you still there?’

Was his friend really that shocked by the news of Oliver’s impending fatherhood? Oh, hell. That didn’t bode well for his family’s reaction. Sebastian was much more laid back than Oliver’s parents.

‘Sorry, Olly. Someone needed me for a second. You were saying, half of your department’s having babies?’ Sebastian asked.

‘Not half of us—that’s the virus wiping everyone out—though it does feel as if everyone’s going on leave. Just Sienna. Obviously you know her from when she did the training at the hospital for you.’

‘Yes. She did a good job—thank you for recommending her.’

There was something in Sebastian’s voice that Oliver couldn’t quite work out. Or maybe it wasn’t the best line. He didn’t always get great mobile phone reception in his office.

‘So Sienna got married when she came back to England?’ Sebastian asked.

‘No, she’s still single. But she knows we’re all there for her and she’s got a very willing rota of babysitters when the baby arrives. It’s due somewhere around the beginning of February.’

‘I see.’ There was a pause. ‘So you’re going to be a dad. Should I be offering congratulations or commiserations?’

‘Both,’ Oliver said wryly. ‘Though at least this one’s definitely mine.’

‘Not a repeat of Justine, then.’

Trust Sebastian to come straight to the point. It was one of the things that Oliver appreciated about his friend: his ability to focus on the important thing and cut through all the irrelevancies. ‘No. And Ella’s nothing like Justine. She’s open and honest. And very independent.’

‘So she won’t let you boss her about.’

Oliver knew his friend was teasing him—or was he? Was he really as overbearing and bossy as Ella said he was?

‘When’s the baby due?’ Sebastian asked.

‘In seven and a half months.’

‘It’s very early days, then.’

‘Yes. Ella only told me a few days ago. She had the dating scan yesterday. Seeing the baby’s heart beating on the screen...’ It had been a real game-changer. Because now everything was real. His baby. And he wanted to be a much better father than his own father had been.

Yet wasn’t he making the same mistakes? Insisting that everything should go his way? It was a knee-jerk reaction to the way Justine had behaved—and Ella deserved better.

‘So what’s the complication with the baby’s mum?’ Sebastian asked.

Trust the prince to ask the awkward question. ‘It’s tricky. I’m not her direct boss, but I’m the Assistant Head of the Department.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first workplace romance in history.’

When Oliver didn’t reply, Sebastian continued, ‘I assume it is a romance?’

‘Yes and no.’ Oliver sighed. ‘I admit, I’ve been attracted to her since the moment I met her. She’s gorgeous—all soft curves and red hair and green eyes.’

‘The way you describe her makes her sound like a Picasso painting,’ Sebastian commented dryly.

Oliver laughed. ‘Hardly. It’s not just how she looks—I’m not that shallow. She’s nice. I can be myself with her. But you know I don’t do relationships. So I’ve kept it platonic.’

‘Obviously something changed, or you wouldn’t be preparing for fatherhood in seven and a half months’ time,’ Sebastian pointed out.

‘I danced with her at the annual Hallowe’en charity ball. Then I gave her a lift home.’ Which sounded pathetic. ‘I meant to see her safely indoors and leave, but she invited me in for coffee. And then I just gave in to the urge to kiss her, and...’ Oliver sighed. ‘I guess one thing led to another.’

‘How does she feel about you?’

Good question. One Oliver had been asking himself rather a lot, and he hadn’t quite worked out the answer. ‘I don’t honestly know. Obviously there’s something there between us, or we wouldn’t be in the position we’re in now. But the baby has complicated things a bit. I don’t know whether she wants me for me,’ he said, ‘or if she wants me for the baby’s sake.’

‘Have you tried asking her?’

‘No—because, if I’m honest, it’s the same for me. I don’t know if I want to be with her because I want her, or because I feel responsible for the baby.’ Though he wasn’t going to tell Sebastian about the kiss during the scan. That complicated things even more. Had they both been caught up in the moment, the excitement of seeing the little life on screen? Or were they both trying to deny the inevitable? Were they meant to be together?

And then there was the issue of why she’d been so sure that he hadn’t needed to use contraception. He still hadn’t got to the bottom of that. He didn’t think Ella was a gold-digger, but there was definitely something she was keeping from him, and he hadn’t found the right way to ask her about it without causing a fight. ‘Right now, everything’s mixed up.’

‘I guess only time will tell,’ Sebastian said. ‘Just make sure you keep the lines of communication open.’

Oliver knew that was sound advice. ‘I will.’

‘Have you told your family yet?’

‘No. It’s too early.’

‘Fair enough.’ Sebastian paused. ‘Does Ella know about your family?’

The crunch question. Sebastian knew Oliver kept his background quiet at work, and why. ‘No,’ Oliver admitted.

‘You’re going to have to tell her at some point. And them. Especially if she’s going to be a part of your future.’

‘I know.’ He’d been thinking about that. He needed to introduce Ella to his family; and, given that they seemed to be reaching out to him right now, maybe their attitude towards his career might have mellowed and they’d accept him for who he was rather than who they wanted him to be. ‘My mother wants me to go to the annual Darrington pre-Christmas cocktail party.’

‘Then go,’ Sebastian said.

‘You know I haven’t been for years.’ He hated all that meet-and-greet stuff.

‘Things are different now. You need to introduce Ella to them. And,’ Sebastian counselled, ‘a party where there are a lot of people around would be a useful way of doing that.’

‘You mean, it’s in public so my parents will have to behave impeccably, and there will be enough other people there to dilute them?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ But Oliver could almost hear the smile in his friend’s voice, because they both knew what his family was like. Appearances mattered to the Darringtons. Sebastian, being a prince, was perfect friend material in their eyes. Ella came from a very different background, and it probably wouldn’t go down well.

Oliver didn’t need his parents to approve of Ella. Their relationship—if they could make it a real relationship—was just between the two of them. But he was starting to realise that family was important. Was there a place for his family in his future? Could they learn from the mistakes of the past and build some bridges?

‘Olly, I really have to go,’ Sebastian said. ‘Sorry. I’ll call you back when I’m out of my meeting.’

‘I’ll probably be in a meeting then myself, or in Theatre,’ Oliver said. ‘But you don’t need to call me back, Seb. I think you’ve already helped me work out the best way forward. Thank you.’

‘Any time. Good luck,’ Sebastian said. ‘And keep me posted on how things go.’

‘I will. And thanks again.’

Once he’d put the phone down, Oliver texted his mother.

Confirm will be there on Tomorrow. May I bring a guest? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.

The reply came back.

Of course. Look forward to meeting her.

Grilling her, more like, he thought. He definitely wouldn’t leave Ella on her own at Darrington Hall. Even if she did protest that he was wrapping her in cotton wool.

‘Mummy, look, it’s Santa!’ The little boy tugged at his mum’s hand and pointed to the room on the other side of the floor, and Ella couldn’t help smiling at the excitement on his face.

‘Santa’—often one of the consultants in a borrowed suit—paid a brief visit to Teddy’s every Wednesday afternoon in December, to see the siblings of all the new babies on the ward. The Friends of the Hospital group had raised money for gifts appropriate for different ages—a soft toy, colouring pencils and a pad, or a reading book—and it helped to make the older siblings feel that they were still special despite the new arrival in the family.

So who was it today? Oliver? Max?

Definitely not Oliver, because a couple of minutes later he came striding along the corridor. He paused in the doorway when he saw Ella, and smiled. ‘OK?’

Ella nodded, and glanced back at the mum she’d been checking over. She was busy with the baby and talking to her toddler, so Ella stepped out for a second. ‘You?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I wondered if you were, um, helping our friend in the red suit.’

He smiled. ‘That would be next week.’ For a moment, he took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Next year, our baby will see Santa.’

His voice was low enough so that nobody else would’ve heard. And that touch, combined with the expression in his eyes and what he’d just said, sent a thrill right through her. Especially when he added, ‘And I can’t wait. I know five months is still a bit young, but...’

Did that mean he wanted to take the baby to see Santa on his own? Or did he mean the three of them as a family? Not that she could ask. Yesterday, he’d kissed her; but then he’d said it was a mistake. Right now they seemed to be taking one step forward and two steps back.

Or maybe this was her chance to sound him out a little more. ‘The year after will be better,’ she said. ‘Because by then the baby will be talking and know what’s going on.’

‘We’re so getting a train set for the second Christmas,’ he said. ‘Whether we have a girl or a boy. Wooden trains are the best fun.’

And she could just see him kneeling on the floor with their baby, helping their little one put the train tracks together. Her heart constricted. But would she be there with him?

‘You’re going to be an amazing mum,’ he said. ‘Singing nursery rhymes and telling stories with all the voices.’

He’d been thinking about the future, then? Just the baby, or about them too? She let herself get carried away with the fantasy that it was all of them. ‘And you’re going to be the dad who does all the scary stuff—the highest slide in the park, pushing the swings as fast as they’ll go.’

‘That sounds good to me,’ he said. ‘But not that scary. I’ll always keep my own safe.’

Right at that second she wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the baby or her. And she so wanted it to be both of them.

‘Ella—can I borrow you for a second?’ Jennie, their trainee midwife, asked.

Oh, help. Ella really hoped that Jennie hadn’t overheard any of that conversation.

‘Sure,’ she said, keeping her fingers crossed that she didn’t sound flustered. ‘I’ll just let my mum know I’ll be with you for a little while before I finish writing up her notes. I think they’re next for Santa, so they won’t miss me. Catch you later, Oliver.’

‘Later,’ he agreed with a smile.

It was just a work pleasantry, that was all, she reminded herself. She might not even see him again before the end of her shift. But at least they hadn’t been fighting. That had to be a start.

Once Ella had helped Jennie and finished writing up her notes, she was called to the birthing suite for another delivery. This was the best job in the world, she thought, watching the little family in front of her: the dad with tears of pride and joy in his eyes, the mum looking tired but radiant, and the baby cuddled up between them. To be able to share these first few precious minutes of a new life was so amazing.

The delivery had been free from complications, the baby had had a perfect Apgar score, and now the three of them were settled back on the ward.

Would Oliver cry when their baby arrived, the way this baby’s dad had cried with sheer joy? Or would he be perfectly cool, calm and collected? Given what he’d said to her when Santa came onto the ward, she had a feeling it would be the former. And he had talked about next Christmas, so it sounded as if he wanted to be part of the baby’s life.

There was still a lot they weren’t saying to each other, but at least they weren’t arguing. So maybe they’d manage to work things out between them.

She left the little family to bond and went to write up her notes in the quiet of the office.

She was halfway through when there was a rap on the door. She looked up to see Oliver standing in the doorway.

‘Can I have a word?’ he asked.

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about the way he’d kissed her in the ultrasound room yesterday; but then she remembered how quick he’d been to dismiss it as a simple reaction to seeing the baby and hearing the good news. Despite what he’d said to her earlier today about their baby and next Christmas, they hadn’t actually resolved their relationship. And she had to be objective about this. Oliver Darrington might be the father of her baby, but he wasn’t in love with her. She’d be a fool to dream it would ever happen. She damped down the flare of desire. ‘Sure,’ she said, as coolly as she could. ‘Though I’m in the middle of writing up the birth notes.’

‘Did it go well?’

‘Very. There were no complications, and I left the new mum and dad bonding with their little girl.’ She smiled. ‘The dad cried when she was born. It was so lovely to see how happy they were.’ And oh, she had to stop talking. The last thing she wanted was for Oliver to guess how she was feeling. ‘You wanted something?’

‘Yes. What are you doing tomorrow?’

‘Cleaning my flat,’ she said, ‘as it’s my day off. And I really ought to do a bit of Christmas shopping. I’m a bit behind, this year.’

‘Are you busy in the evening?’ he asked.

‘Why?’

‘Because my parents are having a cocktail party.’ He looked awkward. ‘I wondered if you’d like to come with me.’

He wanted her to meet his parents?

Ella stared at him in surprise. ‘Are you sure? I mean... They didn’t invite me.’

‘They have now. I asked if I could bring you.’

So he’d already talked to his family about her? Had he told them about the baby, despite the fact he’d suggested she shouldn’t tell anyone until she was past the first trimester?

She pushed down the rising panic. Cocktail party, he’d said. She didn’t know anyone who actually held cocktail parties. She knew that Oliver had quite a posh accent. But how posh exactly were they? Would she fit in?

As if he’d guessed what she was thinking, he said, ‘It’s not a big deal. Just a drinks party they hold every year before Christmas.’

It was an annual event? That sounded even scarier. ‘It sounds a little bit fancy,’ she said.

Oliver’s face shuttered. ‘All right. So you don’t want to meet my family.’

She shook her head. ‘No, that’s not what I meant, Oliver. I was just thinking that it sounds like quite a big party and your parents will be busy. Wouldn’t it be better if I met them at something a bit quieter and more low-key rather than a big event?’ And something she could escape from more easily. ‘Like, I don’t know, meeting at a café in town for a cup of tea?’

‘It’s probably better,’ he said, ‘if there are a lot of people there.’

That sounded ominous. Did that mean he thought they were going to hate her, especially when they found out about the baby? Or did they already know about the baby and they weren’t pleased?

Clearly her worries showed in her face because he said, ‘What I mean is that my family can be a little bit pushy—I guess that’s where I get my overbearing streak. I think the first time you meet them will be better if they’re a bit diluted. They’re the problem, not you.’

That didn’t calm Ella’s worries in the slightest. Particularly as she knew that her own family would welcome Oliver warmly when she introduced him to them. They’d draw him straight into the middle of things and treat him as if they’d known him for years and years. Her father had already said they wanted to welcome him to the family.

Clearly Oliver’s family was very different, and she’d have to tread very carefully.

‘Have you told them about the baby?’ she asked.

‘Not yet.’

‘Because they won’t approve of me?’ The question burst out before she could stop it.

‘Because,’ he said, ‘it’s still early days. I’d prefer to wait until you’re safely through the first trimester before we tell my family about the baby.’

That was sensible; though it made her feel guilty that everyone in the department already knew. It felt wrong to be sharing this with their colleagues and not Oliver’s family, especially as she’d already shared the news with her own family. But how could she explain that? ‘OK.’ She paused. ‘So what do I wear? If it’s a big cocktail party...’

‘I’ll buy you a dress,’ Oliver said.

She frowned. ‘No—and that’s not why I asked. Is the dress I wore to the masked ball suitable?’

‘Yes, but I can b—’ he began.

‘No,’ she cut in. ‘You really don’t need to buy me a dress, Oliver. It’s a total waste to buy something you’re only ever going to wear to one thing.’

He sighed. ‘I’m being bossy again?’

She nodded.

‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Will you allow me to drive you to the party?’

‘Yes, but only because you know the way.’

‘All right.’ His grey eyes were unreadable. ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then.’

‘What time do I need to be ready?’

‘The party starts at half-past seven, and it takes about an hour to get there. So I’ll pick you up at half-past six.’

‘I’ll be ready. Should I have dinner first?’

‘There will be nibbles there—but yes, I’d say grab a sandwich or something before I pick you up,’ Oliver said.

Ella noticed that he didn’t suggest eating together first, and pushed down the feeling of hurt. After all, she’d already accused him of being bossy. He’d probably thought she’d bite his head off if he suggested it. ‘All right. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

She watched him walk out of the door. Had he just asked her on a date of sorts? Was he thinking about trying to make a go of things between them, and introducing her to his family was the first step? Or was this some kind of test she needed to pass?

‘You’re overthinking it, you numpty,’ she told herself crossly. She knew Oliver didn’t play games. He was simply introducing her to his family. Not as the mother of his child, but as... She didn’t quite know what as, but it was most likely he’d say she was his colleague or maybe his friend. And then, when he’d worked out how his family reacted to her, he’d find the right way to break the news about the baby. It was nothing to worry about.

‘We’re going to be just fine,’ she said, resting her hand where her bump wasn’t even visible yet. ‘If they don’t like us—well, that’s their problem, and we’ll deal with it if and when we have to.’