The Surgeon's Family Wish

When he turned to her there was warmth in his eyes for the first time and he said abruptly, ‘I think some thanks are overdue, Dr Swain. Charles Drury, who I hold in high esteem, couldn’t have done better.’

She smiled and he thought that with a bit more life in her and some natural colour in her cheeks this hazel-eyed doctor would be quite something. His glance went to her hands. There was no wedding ring on view. But that didn’t mean anything these days. She could have a partner. Though that wasn’t likely if she was living in the soulless block in the hospital grounds.

There was a solitariness about her. The air of a loner. Curiosity was stirring in him, but he wasn’t going to let her see it. He would find out soon enough what was going on in her life if they were going to be teaming up on the wards.

She was ready to leave and Aaron was still sitting beside a sleeping Lucy.

‘I’m finished for the day, Dr Lewis,’ she said quietly. ‘But if you need me at all during the night, call me. A junior doctor and a surgeon on loan from the General are taking over now, but Lucy is my patient and I want it to stay that way.’

He nodded, almost asleep himself as jet-lag was beginning to take over.

‘Why don’t you go home for a couple of hours?’ she suggested. ‘It must be quite some time since you slept. I believe you’ve been on a tour of paediatric hospitals in America and were met at the airport with news of Lucy’s accident.’

‘I suppose I could pop home for an hour,’ he was saying. ‘I need a shower and a change of clothes, and at the moment all is quiet with Lucy so, yes, Dr Swain, I’ll take your advice.’

‘The name is Annabel,’ she told him.

Again he was aware of her in a strange sort of way.

‘Suits you,’ he commented briefly. ‘At least it would if...’

His voice had trailed away and with a wry smile she finished the sentence for him, ‘I wasn’t such a washed-out mess?’

For the first time in ages she was bothered about what someone thought of her.

It was Aaron’s turn to smile.

‘That isn’t how I would describe you. It would be more along the lines of someone who looks as if they need plenty of rest and vitamins. Have you been ill recently?’

‘No,’ she said, not sure if a painful miscarriage came into that category.

‘So it must just be due to the strains and stresses of health care that get to us all at one time or another,’ he commented, and with nothing further to say she nodded.

* * *

When Annabel had gone, Aaron did as she’d suggested and drove the short distance to the house that he and Eloise had bought when they’d married. She’d loved the rambling red-brick place and coming back to it without her after that disastrous holiday had been dreadful, but, as his mother had said, life had to go on and, as Lucy was growing older, his mother’s stoic calm and his daughter’s laughter had made it into a home again.

The luxury in which he lived was a far cry from Annabel Swain’s living quarters, he thought as he put his key in the lock. What was a woman like her doing in hospital accommodation, for heaven’s sake?

His mother was in bed but not asleep, and the moment she heard his step on the landing she came out to ask about Lucy.

‘So far so good,’ he told her. ‘She’s rational, as you saw when she awoke, and the surgery that Annabel Swain performed was spot on from the looks of it.’

Mary nodded.

‘We owe that lady a lot, Aaron. I know that she was only doing the job she’s paid to do, but I liked her the moment I saw her. She’d barely had time to get her foot over the doorstep at Barnaby’s and she was operating on our precious girl. When Lucy comes home, why don’t we invite her over for a meal?’

‘I agree with all you say,’ he told her, ‘but she might think an invitation to dinner a bit over the top.’

‘Nonsense!’ his mother exclaimed. ‘Annabel Swain looks as if she could do with some tender loving care herself. She’s too thin and pale.’

Aaron was smiling. ‘And you’d like to turn her into a buxom wench?’

‘Not exactly. I wouldn’t have thought that ‘‘buxom wenches’’ were quite your type.’

‘What has it got to do with me?’ he asked with dark brows rising. ‘You’re not going to try and marry me off again, are you? Because it won’t work.’

‘You can’t mourn Eloise for ever,’ she said gently.

‘It has nothing to do with that. I accepted long ago that she’s gone and won’t be coming back. But if and when I decide to marry again, I’ll do the choosing.’

She laughed. ‘All right. I get the message, but I’m not getting any younger, you know. Lucy needs a younger woman in her life.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he agreed, ‘and when the time is right I’ll do something about it.’

He felt vaguely irritated that his mother was taking such an interest in a woman that he’d only just met. Yet he had to admit that he’d been drawn to her for some reason and there hadn’t been many women he could say that about since he’d lost Eloise.

But reason said it was because she’d saved his daughter’s life. It certainly wasn’t because he’d been bowled over by her looks. Like a lot of other overworked doctors he’d met, she was white-faced, with dark smudges beneath those striking hazel eyes, and weary.

After he’d showered and changed Aaron unloaded his luggage from his mother’s car and took out the gift he’d brought for Lucy. Mary was on the verge of sleep again, so he crept in and put the box that held a gold bracelet from one of New York’s top stores on the bedside table.

He’d brought his daughter a doll, a miniature version of a pretty cheer-leader, and hoped that it might help to take her mind off the aches and pains that were the aftermath of surgery. Patti-Faye, she was called, and he thought whimsically that with her pouting red lips and glossy blonde bob she was an overstated version of the opposite sex, while the woman who had been in his thoughts was understated to say the least.

CHAPTER TWO

IN THE days that followed Lucy continued to make a good recovery. There had been no worrying after-effects from the surgery and every time Aaron looked at his daughter he rejoiced.

She was home now. She would soon be back at primary school and in the meantime was once more under her grandmother’s wing while Aaron was working.

He was back in harness now. On the wards and in Outpatients. He also supervised paediatric care in local clinics, referring problems to a consultant at Barnaby’s.

Aaron’s own speciality was neonatal problems and on a cold Monday morning he was due to see a baby boy who had been born flawless but now had an unsightly birthmark on his face.

The child had been referred from the Infirmary where the birth had taken place, and the distressed parents would be hoping he was going to wave a magic wand...

But before that he’d seen Annabel Swain coming from the direction of the accommodation blocks as he was parking his car and had sat watching her approach.

As Lucy had recovered their brief affinity had dwindled. Almost as if it had been born only of the crisis and now that it was over they’d taken stock of each other and stepped back.

It wasn’t exactly that on his part, but he had to admit that he might have given Annabel the impression that she’d served her purpose as far as he was concerned and that they were back on a footing of senior paediatrician and surgeon. It wasn’t the case, but now that his anxiety over Lucy was abating he was conscious that he had done nothing to further their acquaintance and she had saved his daughter’s life.

And now here she was, hurrying along with a chill wind nipping at her ankles, snuggled inside a long winter coat, and still with the pallor that had concerned him when they’d first met.

On the occasions they’d been together during Lucy’s stay in hospital he’d sensed melancholy in her and would have liked to have asked what was wrong, but had felt that he would be rebuffed if he did. After all they were strangers. Maybe if they’d met in the usual way of hospital staff, in a situation of a new member meeting a senior colleague and taking it from there, they would be easier with each other.

But they had been thrown together on an October morning with himself in a state of great anxiety and Annabel having spent her first hours at Barnaby’s operating on his daughter. Consequently she now knew all about him, while he knew nothing of her, except that she was a cool and very competent surgeon.

She was almost level and when she saw him getting out of the car she stopped and said, ‘Hello there. How’s little Lucy?’

‘Fine,’ he said smilingly. ‘And you?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes...you. How are you? It seems we haven’t spoken of anything other than hospital business.’

‘I’m all right, thank you.’

He didn’t believe that, but now he saw an opportunity to get her out of that dreadful flat for a few hours.

‘We wondered if you’d like to come round for a meal one night,’ he said casually, and watched her eyes widen. ‘My mother thought it would be one way of saying thank you for what you did for Lucy.’

So it wasn’t his idea, she thought as her pleasure at the invitation began to evaporate.

‘Thank you. That would be very nice,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t seem to have seen anything other than the flat, the operating theatre and the hospital grounds since I got here, but now that Mr Drury is back from his prolonged holiday and Mark Lafferty has also surfaced, I’m beginning to feel a little less pressured.’

‘Would Friday be OK?’ he asked, hoping that his mother hadn’t got anything planned, as she would be disappointed if she couldn’t be there.

‘Yes. I’m not on duty and have the weekend free, so there would be no problem.’

‘Good. Friday it is. Shall we say eight o’clock?’

Annabel nodded.

‘Yes. Eight o’clock will be fine.’

‘I’ll pick you up, Annabel.’

‘There’s no need,’ she protested. ‘I have my car.’

‘Yes, I know, but I’ll come for you just the same. I don’t like to think of you driving around in the dark in a strange town.’

She swallowed hard. It had been so long since anyone had cared whether she lived or died, it was nice to be fussed over for once.

She smiled and Aaron thought again that she would be really something if she was happy and cared for. But he wasn’t going to be volunteering to bring about either of those conditions. He was content as he was with his mother and Lucy to cherish and a job he loved. He’d not forgotten his mother saying that she wasn’t getting any younger, but that sort of problem could be resolved by bringing in extra help around the house.

He’d loved Eloise. She’d been an outgoing, bubbly blonde, curvy and petite. The woman standing beside him was her exact opposite. Tall, slender, too thin, in fact, with brown hair and eyes, and from what he’d seen so far, a restrained personality. So why did he have this curiosity regarding her?

It wasn’t that intense, though, was it? It had taken him long enough to invite her to dinner. His mother would be surprised and pleased. She’d never mentioned inviting Annabel round after that first time but he’d sensed that the idea was still in her mind.

Mary had loved her daughter-in-law, but it didn’t stop her from wanting happiness for him now, even though he’d made it clear that he wasn’t in the market for a second marriage. He could imagine Annabel’s expression if she knew that such an idea had entered his mother’s mind.

‘Right, then,’ she was saying. ‘If you’re going to pick me up, I’m in Flat Twelve on the ground floor.’

‘Ground floor?’ he echoed. ‘I hope there’s good security.’ And immediately felt that he was fussing.

‘Yes, plenty,’ she assured him, eyes widening in surprise. Then, with her glance switching to the big clock above the hospital entrance, she turned to go and with the thought of his outpatient clinic that was due to start shortly, Aaron did likewise.

That was a bolt from the blue, Annabel thought as she took off her coat and hung it in her locker. An invitation to dine with Aaron Lewis and his family. It would be something to look forward to in her drab existence as she had to admit that he intrigued her.

When they were in each other’s proximity she found her glance on him all the time, but she supposed that he had that effect on most women. He was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen...and the least approachable from a personal point of view.

Not workwise, though. With their small patients it was a different matter. They had that in common. Complete dedication to the children in their care. And while they were putting it into practice, the pain of what was not happening in the rest of her life was bearable.

* * *

The mark on the baby’s face was red, round and raised. There had been no sign of it at birth. It had appeared during the first few weeks of life and now covered a large area of his tiny cheek.

Aaron recognised it immediately.

‘It is a kind of haemangioma,’ he told them, ‘an abnormal distribution of blood vessels, commonly known as a strawberry mark. They enlarge rapidly during the first few weeks after the baby is born and will persist for six months or so, but the good news is that after that time the mark will gradually disappear. They’re usually gone by the time the child is five but may take a little bit longer.’

The young mother breathed a sign of thankfulness but the baby’s father wasn’t so easily satisfied.

‘And so what sort of treatment are you going to recommend?’

‘Strawberry naevi don’t usually require treatment,’ Aaron told him. ‘We would only remove it if the birthmark bleeds frequently, or if it is on the lip, tongue or genitals. It is done by laser treatment, but not recommended unless distress is being caused.’

The beautiful baby boy was lying contentedly in his mother’s arms and Aaron said, ‘Your son doesn’t seem to be in any discomfort so I don’t advise surgery at present. But I would like to see him every three months, and if any problems do occur don’t hesitate to get back to me.’

‘And so we’ve got to put up with him looking like this for years,’ the father persisted.

‘Leave it, Peter,’ his wife said. ‘At least we know that the birthmark is going to go eventually, and I don’t want our baby to be operated on just to satisfy your male pride.’

When they’d gone Aaron thought he could see both their points of view. The young husband was no different to a lot of parents who couldn’t cope with their child being different. His wife was only concerned about the baby, and rightly so.

The clinic was over. It had been the usual mixture of serious and small paediatric problems. Several of the children he’d seen today would need surgery. Annabel came to mind again and he had to tell himself that Charles and Mark were back. She wasn’t going to find new zest if he started passing all his sick children to her to be operated on.

Like teenager Oliver Thomas, for instance, who was going to need brain surgery in an attempt to alleviate severe epilepsy. He would need a team of doctors for the operation that Aaron felt necessary in his case. Then there was nine-year-old James Leech. He’d seen him that morning and had suggested an operation to straighten his protruding ears.

He might have a chat with her about them on Friday night, but then thought better of it. She would think he was some bore if all he could talk about was work over dinner.

* * *

The moment Aaron stopped the car in front of the accommodation block on Friday night, Annabel appeared in the entrance. When he saw her he blinked.

She was wearing a cream cashmere jacket over a long black dress, with high-heeled shoes the same colour as the jacket, and carrying a matching bag.

Her hair was swept off her face and hung down her back in a shining coil, and as she drew nearer he saw in the light from the streetlamps that the pallor that worried him had been covered with light make-up.

Was this the same understated paediatric surgeon who had entered his life at the time of Lucy’s accident? he asked himself as she opened the passenger door and slid into the seat beside him.

‘Hello, there,’ he said as she smiled across at him. ‘You look...er...’

He wanted to tell her she looked wonderful, but suddenly felt she might think he was making too much out of an invitation to dinner.

She laughed. ‘Not as grotty as usual, were you about to say?’

‘Of course not,’ he protested. ‘I wouldn’t be so rude.’

‘But you might think it?’

‘Nothing of the kind. But I’ll tell you what I do think.’

‘And what is that?’

‘I think that you’re hurting for some reason. I saw you this afternoon when I was examining the baby with the dislocated hips.’

He watched her face close up and knew he’d hit a nerve.

‘You’ve no right.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘To be watching me.’

‘I can’t help it. I’m curious about you. For one thing you seem so alone.’

‘That’s because I am.’

‘And is that how you want it to be.’

‘Not particularly,’ she said in a casual tone that he found irritating. ‘But circumstances alter cases, just as broken noses alter faces.’

Aaron frowned.

‘Obviously it doesn’t bother you all that much or you wouldn’t be so flippant about it.’

She was serious now. ‘It’s more a case of having to accept what life hands out to us, Aaron.’

‘And what has it handed out to you?’

‘Nothing good of late.’

‘So I’m right. There is something troubling you.’

Annabel could have told him that it was there in the form of a great big lump of misery, but for some strange reason she wanted her acquaintance with Aaron Lewis to be free of past encumbrances. She didn’t want him to see her as someone with poor judgement so she didn’t answer.

‘What about family?’ he persisted, knowing he was being intrusive but unable to conceal his curiosity.

Within minutes they would be at the house. This brief moment of closeness in the car would be over and for some reason it was important to know what was going on in Annabel’s life. She already knew most of what there was to know about him, but he knew nothing about her past, present or future expectations.

He was about to find out...some of it.

‘My parents were archaeologists, more interested in old relics than a small child, I was fobbed off on relatives for most of my childhood and the moment I was old enough I cut free and enrolled in medical school. Not long after that they were on a dig in India when there was an earthquake. They died there, along with many others. I was almost nineteen at the time. So, you see, you are the fortunate one. You have your mother and Lucy, both of them delightful. I envy you.’

‘Yes, I am fortunate,’ he agreed, bemused by Annabel’s condensed description of what must have been a miserable childhood. But he didn’t feel so ‘fortunate’ at night in his lonely double bed.

The house was looming up in front of them and Annabel said, ‘Wow! What a lovely place you’ve got. The flat will seem like a rabbit hutch after this.’

He smiled. ‘I’m sure that you could do better. Is there a reason why you’re in hospital accommodation?’

‘It’s only because I couldn’t be bothered to go house-hunting when I got the job at Barnaby’s.’ As he drove onto a wide paved drive beside an immaculate garden she added, ‘But after tonight I might be spurred on to greater things.’

His mother and Lucy were coming out to meet them and Annabel thought, This is unreal. What am I doing here? Aaron is doing the polite thing, showing his gratitude by inviting me to eat with them. He didn’t have to do it.

When she glanced across at him there was a look on his face that she couldn’t fathom, but there were other things to claim her attention. Lucy was saying shyly, ‘Hello, Dr Swain.’ His mother was beaming her welcome and for the first time in months Annabel was beginning to unwind.

Bending down to the little girl, she said softly. ‘My name is Annabel, Lucy. No need to call me Dr Swain. That’s just my hospital name.’ She turned to a smiling Mary. ‘It’s so nice to meet you again, Mrs Lewis. I’ve just been telling Aaron how lucky he is to have you with him.’

Mary’s smile was slipping as her glance went to her son, and Annabel sensed undercurrents. But the comment had been innocent enough and if she’d been barging in where she shouldn’t, it hadn’t been intentional. There was the missing wife and mother, of course. Maybe it was to do with that.

The inside of the house was just as imposing as the outside. Someone who had a feel for colour and style had been responsible, and when she commented on it, almost as if it was the opening she’d been waiting for, Mary said, ‘My daughter-in-law was an interior designer. She had a feel for those sorts of things.’

‘Have you got a mummy, Annabel?’ Lucy asked suddenly.

‘Er...no, I haven’t,’ she told the little girl, with the feeling that this evening was turning into a ‘get to know you’ sort of occasion. It was only minutes ago that she’d been telling Aaron about her family background, or lack of it, and now Lucy was tuning in, but Annabel wasn’t prepared for what was coming next.

‘My mummy drowned. So did my grandad.’

‘Oh!’ Annabel breathed. ‘I am so sorry. What a terrible thing to happen.’

She was speaking to Lucy but her gaze was on Aaron standing very still beside his daughter.

‘Yes, it was,’ he replied tonelessly, ‘but, Lucy, we haven’t brought Annabel here to upset her, have we? And I’m sure that Mummy and Grandad are watching over us somewhere and hoping we have a nice evening.’

Annabel’s mind was reeling. She’d been so wrapped up in her own misery and what she’d just heard had been like a bolt from the blue. She wasn’t going to ask but Aaron’s composure told her that the tragedy wasn’t very recent and his mother was calm enough as she announced, ‘The meal is almost ready, Annabel.’ She glanced at her son. ‘Shall we have a drink before dinner, my dear?’

‘Er...yes,’ he said, as if bringing his thoughts back from somewhere far away.

Lucy, quite unaware that she’d dropped a bombshell, piped up, ‘And I’ll have a drink of orange, please, Grandma.’

As the evening progressed the atmosphere was friendly and relaxed and Annabel thought wistfully that, whether the mother figure was missing or not, this was family life at its most enjoyable.

When it was time for Lucy to go to bed Mary said, ‘We’ll let Daddy off bathtime tonight, shall we, Lucy? Annabel is our guest and it is only good manners that he should entertain her while I get you ready for bed.’

Aaron was smiling, but there was a glint in his eye that puzzled Annabel, as if messages were flashing between his mother and himself, but Mary’s expression was innocent enough and Lucy had no problems with the suggestion. She trotted off obediently after planting a shy kiss on Annabel’s cheek.

When she’d gone Annabel said into the silence that had fallen, ‘Lucy looks fine, Aaron. Are you satisfied with her progress?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. I am. That was a nightmare I wouldn’t want to repeat.’

‘Your anguish at the time would have been understandable in any case,’ she told him, ‘but after hearing what happened to your wife it must have been a nightmare. Do you want to tell me about it? I’ve told you about myself, so perhaps it’s your turn to unburden yourself.’

That wasn’t exactly true. She’d only told him about her past, not the miserable present.

‘I would rather we could have kept it light this evening,’ he said after a moment’s silence, ‘but Lucy, bless her, says whatever is in her mind, like most children do, so I suppose I don’t mind talking about Eloise. I think about her enough.

‘We were on holiday in Cornwall and having a picnic on one of its fabulous beaches. Mum and Eloise were sunbathing and Dad was swimming out in the cove. We’d forgotten something, the sunblock cream to be exact, and I’d taken Lucy, who was only a toddler then, back to the hotel with me to get it.