The Midwife's One-Night Fling Page 4

  Freya took her lunch in the staff room, and just as she returned she was told that Kathy was ready to push.

  When she got to the delivery room Ben was white with fear and Freya gave him a smile.

  ‘I thought you’d gone home,’ Ben said.

  ‘And miss out on this?’ Freya asked.

  Ben proved to be a champion when it came to coaxing Kathy to push. It was clearly an excellent epidural, because she could feel the sensation and some pressure but had no pain.

  ‘Another big push,’ Freya encouraged. ‘Come on—a really big one, right down into your bottom.’

  This time it was Kelly who arrived to take the baby and soon Freya delivered a chunky baby boy. He was gorgeous, and there were tears from both Ben and Kathy as he lay on her stomach, blinking at the world.

  ‘Are you going to cut the cord, Dad?’ Kelly asked, and Ben came over with tears in his eyes to have that special moment with his son.

  Baby Hudson didn’t have a name yet, but by the time Freya was ready for home he’d had his first feed and Kathy had had a well-earned cup of tea.

  It hadn’t been a particularly busy day, or so Freya had been told, and yet she was exhausted.

  The high of Baby Hudson’s birth lasted right through the Tube journey, but faded as she began the walk for home.

  Freya had never been surrounded by more people, and yet she had never felt more alone.

  There was a social club at the hospital, but she was hardly going to walk in on her own, and making friends was proving a lot more difficult than she had anticipated.

  However, later, rather than sit alone with her noodles, Freya reminded herself that she did indeed have friends and called Alison.

  ‘How are things?’ Alison asked.

  ‘Busy,’ Freya said. ‘Well, work is—the social life, not so much.’

  ‘But you’re in London!’ Alison said.

  ‘I know...’ Freya sighed, because Alison’s observation just made it worse. ‘I am trying,’ she admitted. ‘I sort of hinted to a couple of girls at work that there was a film I’d like to see, but I felt like a bent coin in a vending machine.’

  ‘Rejected?’ Alison laughed.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Keep at it. Just say yes to anything you’re invited to.’

  ‘I’ll have to be invited somewhere first.’

  ‘You will be.’

  ‘How are you?’ Freya asked. She felt her throat clamp tight, but she swallowed and pushed through, trying to keep her voice casual and light. ‘How’s the baby.’

  ‘All good. I’m fifteen weeks now, and I swear I’ve got a bump, although Callum says it’s too early.’

  Freya hesitated, because women sometimes showed more quickly with a second pregnancy, but she couldn’t gauge whether or not that was the right thing to say to Alison now.

  Freya dealt with pregnant woman every working day, and she dealt with loss too. And, what was more, she prided herself on dealing with it well. Yet when it came to her friend she felt like an absolute novice, and simply didn’t know how to be around the subject of Alison’s pregnancy.

  Freya was terrified she might break down, and Alison didn’t need that. Of course they had both cried together in the days following Andrew’s birth, and then his death, but right now Freya was sure it was time to be strong.

  ‘When’s your ultrasound?’ Freya asked.

  ‘In two weeks’ time. I’ll believe it’s really happening once I’ve heard its little heart.’

  Alison’s voice broke then, and Freya closed her eyes when she heard it. ‘It will be okay,’ she offered.

  ‘You don’t know that, Freya,’ Alison snapped.

  ‘I know, but...’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Sorry,’ Alison said.

  ‘Don’t be.’

  And then Freya turned on her midwife voice and said all the right things, just as she would to a patient.

  But Alison was her best friend. It was awkward and it was difficult and things were different between them.

  There was no escaping that.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RICHARD LEWIS REALLY was stunning.

  Even asleep he managed to bring a little skip to Freya’s heart when she walked in and saw him, lying across several chairs in the staff room.

  Pat and Kelly were deep in conversation there, and didn’t seem bothered in the least by the sight of Richard sprawled out.

  It bothered Freya—or rather it bothered her senses. She tried not to peek as she stirred her soup, but she didn’t try very hard because her eyes kept wandering over.

  He hadn’t shaved again, and Freya knew he must have been working all night. It was now late morning.

  She had been at the Primary for a month now, and he was no less intriguing and no less gorgeous.

  During the course of her working week Freya saw him regularly. He had a new registrar, who wasn’t yet able to do epidurals unsupervised, so Richard was in L&D quite often to oversee his work. And he was always called if there was a difficulty with a delivery or a Caesarean.

  There was rarely time for conversation, though.

  Freya considered the Maternity Unit here extremely busy, but his workload was incredible. He rushed to emergencies all over the hospital—and that was aside from Theatre and patients in the ICU.

  Of course there were many anaesthetists in such a busy hospital, but Freya, despite her warnings to herself, was only interested in one!

  Her instincts had been right. He was a heartbreaker, indeed. She had found that out from the other midwives. Not that they’d actually confided in her! No—she was still struggling to fit in. But she had overheard a couple of conversations, and apparently he’d just ended a brief fling with a nurse in Casualty. And Von, one of the other midwives, was still hoping that she and Richard might get back together.

  She looked over at him. He needed a shave and a haircut. Or rather he might think that if he looked in the mirror, but to Freya he looked just fine.

  Better than fine!

  He was like a bear, Freya thought. Not a fat bear, more like a bear just out of hibernation, all slender and restless and hungry.

  And then she smiled at her mad thoughts.

  Pat was chatting to Kelly about the film that Freya still hadn’t seen. ‘I was thinking I might go this weekend,’ Pat said.

  ‘You have to,’ said Kelly. ‘It’s amazing.’

  Freya again tried to be brave. ‘I’m dying to see it,’ she admitted.

  ‘You should.’ Kelly looked over and nodded, and then she stood. ‘Come on, Pat. We’d better get back.’

  Once they’d gone Freya let out a sigh. Over and over she’d been mentioning that she’d love to go and see the film, but there had been no takers. How much more of a hint was she supposed to give?

  She sat staring at the television and took a sip of her revolting packet soup. And then a voice—one she had really come to like—chimed deep and low.

  ‘I’ll take you to the bloody film.’

  She looked over.

  ‘I can take a hint.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You keep suggesting it every time I’m near. All you have to do ask.’

  ‘I wasn’t hinting for you to take me!’ Freya said, and actually found herself going red. ‘I was waiting for one of them to ask me along.’

  ‘You’re too subtle,’ he said, and lay there smiling at her. ‘Poor Freya-no-Friends.’

  ‘Don’t!’ she said, but she was smiling.

  ‘You have to invite yourself—or just go along with them.’

  ‘What? Just turn up? Like a stalker?’

  ‘Well, maybe not.’

  ‘I’ve always had friends,’ Freya said, for she had been giving it some considerable thought. ‘But I’ve realised that’s because we all grew up together. I’ve never actually had to make any.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ he scoffed. ‘You’re saying that because you grew up in a village you all get along?’

  ‘It’s not a v
illage.’

  ‘Well, town or whatever,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure there are people you don’t like there. You’re not automatically friends with everyone you grew up with. God, I loathed Derek next door, and we had to play together all the time.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That’s for another time.’

  He stretched and yawned and sat up, more bear-like than ever as he gave himself a sort of shake.

  ‘I’m starving,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve got some soup.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Richard pulled a face. ‘I’m going to head down to the canteen. What time do you finish?’

  She’d thought he must have been joking about going out. ‘Not until nine.’

  ‘Well, I’m covering for Simon until eight, so I doubt I’ll get away much before then. I’ll meet you at the entrance to Casualty.’

  ‘I don’t even know if the film’s on,’ Freya said. ‘Or the session time.’

  ‘Times,’ he corrected. ‘It’s on everywhere. You’re not in Cromayr Bay now, where they have to come and change the reels...’

  He was teasing, yet it made her laugh. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘Give me your number and if I can I’ll text you if I’m not going to make it. But if I’m not there by a quarter past, just head for home. It’ll mean I’m stuck somewhere—nothing else. I won’t be avoiding you!’

  He even turned the subject of her being a little lonely into a smile.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Freya said, and recited her number. ‘And, no, I won’t be upset if...’ she started, but her voice trailed off as Stella came in.

  ‘Freya, I know you’re not due back yet, but we’ve got a bit of a rush on.’

  ‘Of course,’ Freya said, and she stood and finished the last of her soup, a little surprised when Richard spoke again.

  ‘I’ll see you around nine, then?’

  Freya felt her cheeks were a little warm as she walked back round to the unit—because he had made it clear in front of Stella that they were meeting up tonight.

  It meant nothing, she told herself. It was just two colleagues going out. If it had been Kelly or Pat or anyone else she wouldn’t be giving it too much thought and Stella was surely the same.

  ‘See Rose?’ Stella said, and pointed over to Rita, the domestic who had done her orientation with Freya on her first day.

  ‘Rita,’ Freya corrected as they walked.

  ‘Rita, then.’ Stella nodded. ‘See how it looks like she’s emptying the rubbish...?’

  ‘Er...yes,’ Freya answered.

  ‘Well, she’s not—she’s actually collecting all the discarded hearts...’

  Freya pressed her lips together as she realised what Stella meant, and even managed a wry smile as Stella spoke on.

  ‘Oh, look, she’s going under the bed. Must have found another one. You know how he dashes from one emergency to another?’ She didn’t await Freya’s response. ‘Well, he’s the same with women.’

  ‘Stella.’ Freya stopped walking and gave her senior a wide smile—because she knew his reputation and because Stella had made her smile. ‘We’re going to the cinema. No more, no less.’

  ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  * * *

  It was a slow evening by Primary Hospital standards, which would have meant a chaotic one back home! But by nine Freya was in the changing room. She took her phone from her locker, as she chose not to have it on her at work, and found herself letting out a breath of relief that there was no text from Richard to say he couldn’t make it.

  And then she swallowed, because relief possibly wasn’t the right word.

  Freya was nervous about tonight.

  She so wanted to make friends.

  Only this didn’t feel like any friendship Freya had ever known!

  She pulled off her horrible uniform, changed into the grey linen dress and ballet pumps she had worn into work and let her hair down, pulling her curls out with her fingers.

  In the end it was actually Freya who was a little late, and when she arrived at the entrance to Casualty he was checking his phone.

  He was out of scrubs and in a suit, although minus a tie, and beside him Freya felt rather drab.

  She looked far from drab, though. In fact, Richard thought as she walked towards him, she was wearing the same dress she had been on the day they had met.

  And that was concerning, because usually he couldn’t recall what any woman had worn the previous night, let alone in previous weeks. He’d even joked to a friend that he’d be hell at reporting a missing person because he’d be unable to tell the police what the missing person was wearing.

  He didn’t really notice such things, other than thinking, Oh, she looks nice.

  With Freya though he’d be able to describe in detail to any police officer that the dress was grey linen, and it was a touch looser than it had been on the day they had met.

  Yes, Officer, she had on black pumps and no stockings, just pale slender legs. And her hair was worn down. It didn’t actually sit on her shoulders since it’s too curly for that, it just holds its wild shape there. And she has green eyes, Officer, and soft full lips.

  Anything else? the officer would ask.

  Well, she’s been a bit lonely since she arrived here, he would say. I didn’t give it too much thought at the time...

  But he was giving it some serious thought now.

  Not that he showed his concern. Richard, thanks to his job, was incredibly good at that.

  ‘Right,’ he said as they headed out onto the street. ‘The film is on at ten, so if we skip all the trailers we’ll have time to go and get something decent to eat. I am sick of eating on the run.’

  ‘That sounds brilliant.’

  ‘Are you on in the morning?’ he asked.

  Freya nodded.

  ‘And me.’

  And then Freya was delivered another thinly veiled warning as Stella dashed past them to a car in which presumably her husband had come to meet her. ‘Enjoy the film, Freya!’

  ‘I will,’ Freya called back.

  ‘Has she been telling tales about me?’ Richard asked as they walked out onto the street.

  ‘No!’

  The street was busy enough that it could have been a Saturday during the day back home, and she was glad it was dark enough that he’d hopefully missed her blush as she lied.

  ‘Of course she has,’ Richard said. ‘And they’re all true.’

  ‘Then it’s a good job we’re just heading out to see a film,’ Freya said.

  ‘Indeed.’

  But first they would eat...

  ‘Is Italian okay?’ he checked, and she nodded as he led them to a very lovely casual-looking restaurant, tucked away from the main street.

  Freya only realised just how hungry she was as the gorgeous scents inside hit her, and they were guided to a table looking out onto the street.

  ‘Can I get you some drinks to start?’ the waiter offered.

  ‘Freya?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Just water.’

  ‘And me,’ Richard said. ‘Sparkling?’

  ‘Lovely,’ Freya agreed.

  The menu was delectable, and she decided on a creamy carbonara, while Richard settled for osso bucco.

  ‘So,’ he said when their order was in, ‘how are you finding it at the Primary?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Freya said, and she saw his eyes narrow. ‘Well, it’s a bit overwhelming. I expected it to be busy, of course, but I didn’t realise it would be quite so full-on.’

  ‘What was it like where you worked before?’

  ‘I was in a birthing centre attached to a hospital. We saw the mothers for all their antenatal care, then right up to the postnatal check.’

  ‘How many deliveries at the centre?’ Richard asked.

  ‘About a hundred a year. So it’s been a big change for me to come somewhere that averages more than that in a week. Still, I wanted the experience.’

  ‘You could have g
ot that more locally,’ Richard said, tearing open a bread roll. ‘The Women’s Hospital in Edinburgh surely delivers a similar amount?’

  ‘Yes,’ Freya agreed. ‘I did a stint there during my training. But I wanted something completely different, and it was sort of now or never.’

  ‘Are your parents back home?’

  ‘And my brothers.’ Freya nodded.

  ‘Do you all get on?’ he asked, because despite himself he wanted to know more. Surely there must be more of a reason she had left—not just in her work, but her home, friends and family too?

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve got my own place, but I see plenty of them. The older brother, though they’re both younger than me, has got two children. I delivered the younger one.’

  ‘I can’t imagine having a sister-in-law, let alone being that close to her.’

  ‘Don’t you have siblings?’ Freya asked.

  ‘No, there’s just me.’

  ‘And are you from London?’

  ‘Kent.’

  ‘Do you get back there much?’

  ‘Now and then,’ Richard said, and then he hesitated.

  He rarely spoke about his family, but he felt no sense of her probing beyond what he was comfortable with, and actually he found it was nice to sit and chat.

  ‘I see my father sometimes, and my mother’s here in London. She’s just got engaged.’ He rolled his eyes, just as their meals were delivered. ‘Again.’

  Then came the pepper grinder, and the parmesan cheese, and he thought certainly they would speak about the food now, or the film they were about to see—or even, as Richard usually would, get on with flirting. And yet he was still curious to hear more about her.

  ‘Do you miss your old job?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ Freya said. ‘I was often delivering the babies of people I’d been to school with, or their wives. And I know a lot of people around town. And while it’s nice knowing your patients...’

  He nodded. ‘My father’s a GP. I know only too well the downside. He was never off duty—even going out for a meal like this he’d be interrupted. The only time I remember him getting away from work was if we went on holiday, and even then patients would call him for advice.’

  ‘I don’t mind that so much,’ Freya admitted.

  Her dismissal of the intrusion aspect of things surprised him.