An Unexpected Bonus

An Unexpected Bonus

Caroline Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘HE’S gorgeous!’

Jo looked down at the baby girl in her arms and smiled. ‘Mmm—but he’s a she.’

Sue propped her arms on the edge of the crib and laughed softly. ‘Not the baby, idiot. Him. Our Dr Latimer.’

‘Oh, him. He’s come in, has he? Such dedication to duty on New Year’s Day.’ Jo laid the baby down on her side, covered her up and straightened. ‘I was just tucking up our first baby of the year. I nearly missed her arrival—in a bit of a hurry, weren’t you, sweetheart?’

The baby ignored her, and so did Sue.

‘You ought to see him—six foot something, dark hair, laughing grey-blue eyes…’

‘Sounds like a cliché.’

Sue gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Look, Jo, he’s perfect. Just what you need—’

‘Whoa there! Steady on.’ Jo stopped what she was doing and met her friend’s eyes. ‘What I need,’ she pointed out carefully, ‘is calm, stability, security—’

‘Fun, laughter, a social life—’

‘A pension—’

‘Pension!’ Sue exploded. ‘Why do you need a pension? You’re twenty-nine!’

‘Thirty—and because, as I’ve just proved, I’m getting older.’

Sue made a rude noise and bent over the baby. ‘Hi, sweetheart. Welcome to the world of pensions and premature ageing. It’ll be your birthday next week at this rate, you wait and see.’

Jo swatted her with the file and went out into the corridor, hiding her grin. ‘You’re impossible. I’m not interested in Dr Latimer. For all we know he could be married…’

‘Uh-uh. Single—not even divorced.’

‘So why’s he taken a job in a quiet little seaside town in Suffolk? He’s probably got totally unacceptable habits, or halitosis.’

Sue followed her down the corridor to the nursing station. ‘No halitosis…’

‘And of course you got close enough to find out.’

‘Oh, yes. Matron introduced us. I swear, if I wasn’t already married…’ She paused. ‘He’s lovely, Jo, really.’ Her eyes grew serious. ‘He is. You wait till you meet him. He could be Mr Right.’

‘I’m sure he is—for someone, but that someone isn’t me, Sue. I don’t believe in happy ever after.’

Sue propped herself against the wall and watched as Jo dropped the file back into the trolley. ‘So have an affair.’

Jo laughed. ‘In Yoxburgh? Got any more good ideas?’

‘I mean it. It’s time you got out and had a bit of fun. I think it’s amazing that you’re as normal as you are, the life you lead. You’re closeted up like a nun—and what about Laura? Is she going to grow up thinking that men are a bad idea and living alone is the norm?’

Jo shook her head in disbelief and turned towards her friend.

‘Leave it, Sue, please. Laura and I are fine. We don’t need anyone else. I know you’re only trying to help, but we’re quite happy the way we are.’

Sue shrugged. ‘Have it your own way.’

‘I will. We’re fine.’ Jo sighed inwardly. It wasn’t a lie. They were happy, more or less. Sometimes they were happier than others, but most of the time they rubbed along all right, and if there were nights sometimes when the bed seemed cold and empty—well, they were few and far between, and she had plenty of friends to pass the time with.

She didn’t admit to herself that passing the time was all she did, putting one foot in front of the other, taking the days one at a time, shuffling on towards retirement and the hereafter with little enthusiasm for anything but Laura and the mums and babies in her care—

Lord, how maudlin!

‘Stop matchmaking, Sue,’ she told her friend firmly. ‘Anyway, haven’t you got anything better to do?’

‘Oh, tons—all my PNs. You can tell me what you think of him later. See you!’

Jo watched her go despairingly. She had a few postnatal checks to do herself, but first of all, since Dr Latimer was in the building, he could make himself useful.

She quickened her stride, bustling down the corridor towards the entrance, and as she rounded the corner she almost fell over a group of people standing clustered in Reception.

Matron, the receptionist, a nursing sister—and him. At least, she imagined it was him—and, yes, he was gorgeous, she supposed, if your taste ran to that sort of thing.

Tall, dark, handsome, clichéd—the stuff of fiction. As far as Jo was concerned, though, he was just a man like all the others.

Then he looked at her, those storm-grey eyes meeting hers and holding, and, like a display of baked beans in a supermarket, she felt as if someone had yanked out a tin from the bottom row and tumbled her into a heap at his feet.

‘Ah, Jo—perfect timing.’

She blinked, breaking the spell, and looked away. To her astonishment she was still standing, rather puzzled by the strange hiccup in her heart rate and the fizzing in her veins.

Not because of him, surely? Men just didn’t do that to her!

Matron smiled, holding out her arm to welcome her to the group. ‘This is Jo Halliday—she’s the senior community midwife. You’ll be seeing a lot of her, of course, because she runs the antenatal clinics in your surgery as well as the classes here. Jo, come and meet Ed Latimer.’

Come and meet him? She might, if she tried really hard, be able to remember how to walk!

‘Hi, there,’ she said, thankful that her voice at least sounded normal. ‘Pleased to meet you. Actually, I’ve got a job for you, if I could hijack you from the grand tour?’

‘Oh, we’ve finished,’ Matron said airily. ‘He’s all yours.’

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that for some reason sent a shiver down her spine. ‘At your service,’ he said with a little bow of his head, and the grin that accompanied it made her heart do something crazy and stupid and not entirely normal. ‘What did you want me for?’

She wasn’t sure any longer. Her body seemed to have a hidden agenda all its own. She swallowed. ‘New baby needs a check—I wonder if you’d do the honours.’

‘Sure. Lead the way.’

She did, taking him back down the corridor towards the GP unit, aware with every step of his presence at her side.

‘Here we are, female infant of Angela Grigson, born at eight-thirty this morning.’

‘So, little baby Grigson is the first of the New Year?’

‘Yes. It’s a small unit, so it’s amazing we’ve had one on New Year’s Day. Sometimes it’s days before we get a baby—last year it was the ninth of January.’

‘Normal vaginal delivery, I take it? Was she booked for admission to the GP unit?’

‘No. She was due to go to the hospital, it’s only her first, but she didn’t have time. I was hardly here myself! I’ve checked everything except the heartbeat, but I expect you’ll want to check her again.’

She was running on like a steam train! She shut her mouth with a little snap and stepped back.

Ed Latimer gave her a quizzical little look, then turned his attention to the peaceful baby. ‘OK. Sorry, little one, I’m going to wake you up.’ He looked round. ‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Gone to the loo. She’s very relaxed about it all.’

‘Not to mention hasty! What was the Apgar score?’

‘Ten,’ she replied promptly, glad to focus on the professional rather than the general. ‘She was very alert and vocal at birth, bright pink and flailing furiously!’

‘Excellent. No other problems, I take it, apart from the unseemly speed?’

‘No, everything was perfectly normal, just fast. Mum had the shakes afterwards, but that’s quite common with hasty deliveries.’

Jo watched him undress the tiny scrap, his big hands astonishingly gentle, his eyes scanning the baby for anything out of the ordinary. He checked the eyes, the ears, the mouth and nose, the fontanelles or soft spots on the head, both hands and feet, all the digits, then laid the baby face down over his palm and checked the spine with a big, blunt fingertip.

Then he checked her bottom to make sure that all necessary organs were present and correct, dropped her an inch onto the cot to test her Moro reflex and grunted in satisfaction as the baby flung her arms out and cried. She grasped his fingers and held on as he lifted her, and when he dangled her so her feet just touched the mattress she tried to walk.

‘Good girl. Now the bit you’ll hate. Sorry, poppet.’ He folded her little legs up, bent them up against her sides and wiggled them to check her hip joints.

Predictably she wailed, and he scooped her up and hugged her. ‘Sorry, little one,’ he murmured, cradling her against his chest. Just to get her revenge, she emptied her bladder down his shirt.

‘Well, that answers that question,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Her waterworks function.’

Jo laughed and, taking the baby from him, she put her into a nappy and laid her back into the cot so he could listen to her heart.

‘That’ll teach me to hug them when they’re naked,’ he said ruefully, blotting at his shirt with a paper towel.

‘At least she isn’t a boy. They always pee in your eye.’

He grinned at her, and once again her heart did that stupid thing.

Nuts.

She watched in silence as he checked the baby’s heart for any unusual sounds, and then he folded the stethoscope and tucked it back into his pocket, before dressing the little one again.

‘Can you manage?’ Jo asked, which earned her a wry look.

‘Why do you women think you’re the only ones who get to play with the new babies?’ he said softly, and turned his attention back to the little one in his hands. ‘Can I manage?’ he murmured. ‘The nerve of the woman! Just so cheeky, isn’t she? Yes!’

He was competent, she had to give him that. She wondered if there was a child in his life—or a partner not covered by the standard ‘single/married/widowed/divorced’ categories of the application form.

Very likely. He was the boy next door grown up, and if he was still single it was very odd.

Perhaps he had unspeakable habits after all?

Then he straightened and met her eyes, and there was something sad and lonely lurking in the depths of them—something that tugged at an echo in her heart. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, to ask what it was that made him sad, but before she could make a fool of herself there was a shuffling behind her, and a cheery voice said, ‘Hello, there. Everything all right?’

She turned, dragging her eyes from his, and smiled at the young woman in the tatty dressing-gown who climbed up onto the bed and sat down cautiously.

‘Hi, Angela. Fine—just a routine check on the baby. How are you feeling now?’

‘Oh, fine. Bit sore.’ She looked across at Ed and smiled. ‘You must be the new doctor.’

‘That’s me—Ed Latimer. Pleased to meet you. Congratulations on a perfect little baby. I’ve checked her over and she’s all present and correct—lovely. Well done.’ He took her hand in a firm grasp, and Angela Grigson turned to putty. She smiled and dimpled and went all silly, and Jo rolled her eyes and looked away.

The woman was happily married and had been for the past five years, and yet one look at their new GP and she went gaga only hours after the birth of her first child.

Jo predicted a massive rush of minor ailments at the surgery in the next few days, checking out the new doctor. The grapevine would be humming like a guitar string and nobody would be able to talk about anything else!

‘I told you he’d knock your socks off.’

‘He’s just a man.’

‘Pooh. He’s gorgeous.’

‘We’ve done this conversation for the past three days. Can’t anyone talk about anything else? I’m getting sick of hearing his name.’

‘Whose name?’

They both jumped guiltily and turned towards the door of the surgery kitchen. ‘Yours,’ Jo said, not bothering to lie. ‘Everyone in Yoxburgh is talking about you—and it’s only Monday. You’re the sole topic of conversation!’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I hope it’s good.’

‘So far you don’t seem to have irritated the dowagers or killed off their grandchildren so, yes, at the moment it’s good. You might blow it yet, of course, once you start doing a few more surgeries.’

He laughed. ‘Quite probably.’ He propped his lean hips against the worktop and looked hopefully at the kettle. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’

Sue scooted through the door. ‘I’m off on my visits. Jo’ll make you tea—she’s the resident mummy.’

He quirked a brow. ‘Resident mummy?’

Jo laughed a little awkwardly and flicked the button on the kettle. ‘I make them look after themselves and eat properly, and I nag a bit.’

‘You sound like an asset to the practice.’

She laughed again. ‘They hate it, mostly—except when I’m dishing out tea and coffee. Then they usually form an orderly queue.’

He chuckled and reached for two mugs from the rack, handing them to her. ‘Is it just us?’

‘At the moment. Were you looking for me, or just the kettle?’

‘You, actually.’ He lounged against the worktop again, looking sexier than he had any right to. ‘I wanted to go over the routine—you know I’m taking over all the obstetrics for the practice?’

‘Yes, I did. Not a problem—we can sit down with our tea and go through it all. It’s quite straightforward.’

‘Have you got time?’

‘Just about. I’m on call but it’s quiet at the moment. How about you?’

He chuckled. ‘I’m on half-timetable this week, just while I settle in. They wanted me to have a nice gentle introduction so I didn’t get the screaming ab-dabs and run off into the sunset before I’d had time to get used to the place. It’s quite a luxury, really, after doing locum work for six months and my GP training and obstetrics before that, but I must confess to being a bit bored.’

‘It won’t last,’ she assured him drily. ‘With this flu epidemic and the worst part of the winter lined up, you can be sure it’ll deteriorate very soon.’

‘I’m so glad. I was beginning to wonder if I’d have enough to do or if it was all a big mistake.’

Jo gave an astonished laugh. ‘Just make the most of it,’ she advised him with a grin. ‘How do you take your tea?’

‘White, no sugar—thanks.’ His fingers brushed hers as he took the mug, and a shiver of something elemental and thoroughly silly ran up her arm and curdled her brain.

What was it about him? He was just an ordinary man—wasn’t he? So he was good-looking—so were lots of men. She pulled out one of the chairs from under the table and sat down, giving her tea very much more attention than it really merited while she waited for her head to clear. He didn’t help matters. He flipped the chair round, straddling it and resting his forearms on the back, the mug dangling from long, strong fingers.

Ridiculous. Even his fingers drove her crazy!

‘So, tell me about how the obstetrics is arranged,’ he said suddenly, dragging her back to earth. ‘How many of our mums have their babies here and how many in the Audley?’

She latched onto the professional conversation like a lifeline and launched into a barrage of statistics. ‘More and more are having them either here or at home—recently I’ve had one or two who’ve given birth at the Audley and gone into the GP unit for a postnatal period of two or three days, just to get a rest.’

‘Yes, that’s one of the problems of sending them all home so soon—I often wonder if they don’t need more rest, but busy hospitals certainly don’t seem to be the place to get it.’

She set her mug on the table, folding her arms to keep her fingers still. ‘Most of the postnatal cases are mums with other children and just need a break, or their partners aren’t able to take time off, but whatever their reasons we encourage them to use the unit, of course, because otherwise we can’t justify its existence and it’ll be closed.’

‘Is that likely?’

She shrugged and pulled a face. ‘Maybe. Several units in the Suffolk area have closed over the last ten to twenty years, and others are under threat. We use it for obs and gynae post-op as well as just a straightforward delivery unit to maximise the use of the beds, but it’s certainly used to capacity most of the time one way and another and we try and keep it that way.’

He nodded thoughtfully, sipping his tea and gazing absently over the rim of his mug. ‘So how many babies are delivered in the community every year?’ he asked next, trapping her with his eyes.

Were they grey or blue? Hard to tell in this light…

‘In our immediate area about eighty, either in the unit or at home. We refer whenever we feel it’s necessary, and we never take chances. We’ve got fairly strict criteria for the GP unit, although if they don’t comply with the criteria I might still let them have a home birth, but we watch them like hawks. We’re too far from the specialist unit to be able to take risks.’

His eyes searched hers. ‘Does that undermine your confidence?’

She smiled. ‘It used to. Not any more. I think experience counts for a lot. I’m much more willing to let mums have a go now than I used to be.’

‘Are you happy to rely on your professional judgement, or would you like tighter guidelines?’

‘No. I like to be able to take each case on its merits. I rely on instinct as well.’ She waited for the criticism, but to her surprise it wasn’t forthcoming.

‘So do I,’ he admitted, ‘although I’m not sure I always trust my instincts yet. Maybe when I’ve got more experience in general practice. In the meantime, I’d rather check with a colleague. I’m not afraid to admit I don’t know all the answers.’

‘So you won’t mind when I keep you in order?’ she said with a hesitant smile.

He chuckled. ‘I’ll be relying on it.’

She nodded, relieved that they agreed about something so important. Not that she’d meant to be so unsubtle about it, but there you go, she thought, not everyone’s born to be a diplomat.

Her bleeper warbled, and she popped through to Reception, then came back. ‘Got to fly,’ she told him, ‘one of my imminent mums. In fact, are you busy? I’ll need an accomplice—this one’s a home birth. You could gain a bit of that experience you were talking about.’

‘Sure.’ He drained his tea, flipped the chair back under the table and stood, ready and waiting. ‘Your car or mine, or both?’

‘I’ll take mine because it’s got my stuff in—you’re welcome to hitch a ride or take yours, whatever, but I’ll ring her first.’

She went into the office and rang through to Julie Brown, half her attention still on the man lounging on the wall behind her. ‘Julie? Hi—Jo Halliday. How’s things?’

‘Oh, you know—I had a twinge so I finished feeding the sheep and came in, and once I stopped moving I realised things were getting on a bit. I don’t think it’ll be long.’

‘Hang on, then. Is anyone with you?’

‘No. Tim’s down at the other farm and the kids are with Mum.’

‘Right, unlock the back door, shut the dog up and go up to your room. Then lie down and rest!’

Julie chuckled. ‘Yes, Sergeant-Major, sir!’

‘Just do it. I’ll be ten minutes.’

She cradled the phone. ‘Farmer’s wife,’ she said to Ed. ‘She says it won’t be long. She’s had two—I believe her. Are you ready? I’m going now.’

He nodded. ‘Fine.’

‘Are you going to follow? I’ll have to stay two hours after the birth.’

‘No problem. I’ve got nothing else to do and it might be useful. I’ll come with you, if I may? I can ask you questions on the way.’

And distract me, she thought, but in fact he didn’t. He sat very quietly and said not a lot until they’d arrived, and then as they got out she noticed he was a little pale.

‘You don’t take any prisoners, do you?’ he said drily.

‘I said we were in a hurry,’ she said with a grin, and he managed a wan smile.

‘Hmm. I’m not used to being driven. I find it a bit unnerving.’

She laughed, grabbed her bag out of the car and headed round the side of the house. A volley of barking heralded their arrival, and as she opened the back door the big black dog launched itself at her.

‘Brogue, get down!’

The dog subsided, licking her hand, and with a frown she went into the kitchen and found Julie slumped over the table. She lifted her head and gazed at Jo.

‘Couldn’t make the stairs,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Think it’s coming—’

‘Good job you’ve got a decent-sized table in here, then, isn’t it, since the floor’s a bit doggy?’ Jo said with a grin. ‘Ed, give me a hand. Oh, Julie, this is Dr Ed Latimer, our new GP obstetrician.’

Julie peered up at him, and said weakly, ‘Hi.’ She dropped her head again. ‘Oh, here we go again…’

‘She’s having a contraction—come on, let’s clear the table and move her as soon as it’s over so I can have a look.’ Jo scooped papers and mugs off the table, and stacked cushions for Julie to lean against, then glanced at Ed over her shoulder. ‘There’s a big black box in the boot of my car. Could you get it?’

He went without argument, to her relief, and was back in seconds, by which time she’d shut Brogue in the utility room and was back with Julie.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured, lifting the lid off the box. Pulling out the delivery pack and a few inco pads, she spread them out on the top of the big old table and they lifted Julie onto it. Her dress was quickly hitched up, and as they dispensed with her underwear it was obvious the baby wasn’t waiting for anyone.

‘I’ll just wash my hands,’ Jo said, but there wasn’t time to find gloves, because the baby was coming, and coming now. ‘Just pant,’ Jo told Julie, and the baby shot out into her hands in a slippery rush just moments later.

‘Hello, little fellow,’ she said with a smile. Lifting him, she put him down on Julie’s abdomen and grinned at Ed. ‘Three thirty-seven. Remember that. Didn’t need us at all,’ she added over the baby’s indignant squall. Washing her hands again, she dried them on a clean towel from one of the kitchen drawers, put gloves on and checked for any problems.

It all looked very straightforward, and after the cord stopped pulsing she clamped and cut it. Wrapping the baby in another towel from the drawer, she handed him to Ed. ‘Hold this,’ she ordered.

‘This,’ he said softly. ‘Is that any way to speak to you, son?’ he murmured and, taking the corner of the towel, he gently wiped the baby’s face.

Jo dragged her eyes away from him and tried to concentrate on the patient and her needs. She was propped on the pile of hastily assembled cushions, and she looked thoroughly uncomfortable on the hard tabletop.

‘I’d like to move you to somewhere more comfy,’ she was saying, when the back door burst open and Tim erupted into the room, his eyes wild.

‘Ah, Julie, love, you could have waited for me!’ he said with a laugh, and hugged his wife.