The Midwife And The Single Dad by Gill Sanderson Page A

years ago, though she had never said so. And now she was learning to love him again. She was asleep before she could take the thought further.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    T HE thought was with her when she woke up next morning. She looked at the sunlight penetrating her curtains, heard the screaming of gulls. Common early morning experiences in summer. But why did they please her so much? Why did she feel so happy?
    In fact, she felt the happiness before she worked out why. It had been her last thought the night before. That last minute realisation of something that should have been obvious much earlier. She was falling in love with Ben. Or falling in love with Ben again. Re-falling in love?
    So what was she to do about it? Love wasn’t the reason she had come to Soalay, she had needed a refuge where she could find peace. Love didn’t bring peace. Especially if it wasn’t—as far as she could tell—returned.
    She sighed as she climbed out of bed. At the moment there was nothing she could do. She would just have to wait and see. And work, of course.
       
    That morning she held a clinic. Four pregnant women from town came in for routine checks. They were all in the last ten weeks of pregnancy and at that stage Aliceliked to see her patients at least once a fortnight. And she told them that if ever there was any cause for alarm to phone her.
    They were just routine checks. Blood pressure, pulse, urine sample. More important was to listen to the foetal heart, to palpate the abdomen to ensure that all was going well with the baby. And the constant vigilance to avoid pre-eclampsia—an over-high BP and oedema or swelling, especially of the legs.
    What Alice thought was probably most important was the talk she had with the mother-to-be. She would ask about diet, plans for the birth, fears that the mother might have. And it was amazing what important details could come out in the middle of what seemed to be just a casual chat. The trouble was, she sometimes heard things she didn’t want to hear.
    The first three mums were fine. Two of them remembered her—vaguely. Alice enjoyed talking to them, felt she was doing her job. The fourth, Merryl Snaith, was a bit different. She was an incomer from the mainland, had been left a house by an old relation and decided to move in. She was a single mother and a bit flash for Soalay. The other mothers-to-be were a bit wary of her. She seemed to wear a bit too much lipstick for a visit to the midwife.
    ‘I’ve been seeing Dr Cavendish up to now,’ Merryl told her. ‘I decided that if we didn’t have a proper midwife then I’d rather see a doctor than a nurse.’
    ‘Nurse Watson has probably dealt with far more pregnant women than Dr Cavendish.’
    Alice knew her voice was chill, she couldn’t help it.But Merryl seemed neither to notice or to care. ‘Well, please, give the doctor my good wishes.’ A quick, alert look and then, ‘I heard that you’ve been staying with the doctor? Isn’t it a pity, him separating from his wife?’
    Alice knew there was no possibility of keeping secrets on the island, little chance of stopping gossip.
    ‘I’m very fond of his little girl,’ she told Merryl. ‘I drop in at the house quite frequently to see her. Now, would you like to undress behind that screen and then lie on the couch?’
    ‘Whatever,’ said the disappointed Merryl.
    But, still, she was happy with her morning’s work. She was doing what she liked, what she knew she was good at. And the Merryls of the world only made the other mums more appealing.
    After she had finished her first set of examinations, her receptionist gave her a message. Could she phone Dr Cavendish, please? No panic, only when it was convenient. Alice knew when he tried to have his coffee-break so she rang him then. Of course, it would probably be something professional, perhaps someone he wanted to refer to her. Or perhaps he wanted to tell her about the excitement of the night before. Whatever it was, she could feel