Tempted by Dr. Daisy Page 9
She swallowed. ‘Ben, it’s all right, it was only the once. She’s just a child. It’s fine.’
Except she wasn’t just a child. She was the flesh and blood of the man she loved with all her heart, and seeing his little daughter made her all the more real. Seeing them together. Seeing the love between them, the way his eyes never left her.
He was a good father. A brilliant father. Loving, caring, thoughtful, aware of the dangers but happy to let her get well and truly grubby and be a real child. When she’d got bored with the frog she’d climbed all over him and sat on his shoulders, peering down into his eyes and laughing, and she wished she’d had a camera to capture the moment.
Silly. It was nothing to do with her. Florence was nothing to do with her. And she needed to remember that. She went to the drawer where she kept her sentimental things, and pulled out the photo of Millie and Freya. She stared at it for a long time, wondering how they were, if they were happy, who they were living with. Mike and his wife, still? Or had she thrown him out again so they had a different mummy for the weekends? She stroked her finger lovingly over the image. They’d be older now, three years older, so they’d be nine and seven.
Gosh. How time passed.
She stuck the photo on the front of the fridge under a magnet, so she’d see it every time she made a cup of tea and got the milk out, and it would remind her of all the reasons why she was keeping Florence firmly off limits.
There. Now she’d remember. All she had to do was make sure Ben did.
The house being in chaos was doing his head in. Not just because it was messy, but because it meant he couldn’t have Florence there.
And then finally, almost four weeks after the ceiling fell down, the kitchen was plastered, the house rewired and the kitchen could go in.
He couldn’t wait. Staying at Jane’s every weekend had driven him crazy, and the prospect of doing it for weekend after weekend was intolerable, he thought as he packed and set off there yet again. But he had no choice, not if he wanted to see Florence, and their time together was so short, so fleeting, and she was growing like a weed. Her childhood would be gone in the wink of an eye, and the fact that he was missing so much of it gutted him.
But he missed his home, too, while he was at Jane’s. He missed having his own things around him—and he missed spending time with Daisy. And the first thing he did after he had a shower when he got home on Sunday night was to go round and see her.
‘God, it’s so good to be home and get back to normal,’ he said, burying his head in her hair and holding her tight. ‘I love her to bits, but Florence can be so demanding, and we had to spend the day out because Jane had a headache again today.’
‘Is she ill?’
He laughed and let her go, following her into the sitting room and settling down on the sofa with her in his arms. ‘Not really. I’m sure she wasn’t feeling great, but I took Florence out for hours so she could rest, and when I got back she was on the phone and looked fine. The moment she saw me she had a relapse, curiously.’
‘Looking for sympathy?’
‘I don’t know what she was looking for, but she won’t get it. Not from me, anyway. Not in my job description.’
‘So you left.’
‘After I’d fed and bathed Florence and put her to bed and read her a story. It was the princess and the frog tonight—again. She’s got frogs on the brain now, thanks to you,’ he told her, tapping her on the nose.
She smiled. ‘Sorry,’ she said, although she wasn’t sorry for him at all for having such a delicious little daughter, and then she reminded herself that she wasn’t going to think about Florence. Hard, when Ben was talking about his precious little mite, but if she wasn’t careful she’d end up hurt again.
And more to the point, because she was the most vulnerable one, so might Florence.
‘Have you eaten?’ she asked him, changing the subject.
He gave a hollow laugh. ‘If you count fish fingers and peas.’
‘Doesn’t sound as if you do.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m fine. I had lunch.’
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘A sandwich?’
‘I know you and your sandwiches. You had half a cheese sandwich and a banana on Friday, and I don’t think you finished the banana,’ she reminded him. ‘Fancy scrambled eggs on toast?’
‘That would be amazing,’ he groaned, and she left him slouched on the sofa while she went to make it. When she came back, he was asleep, but she woke him up to eat it, then cleared away, turned off the television and took him up to bed.
Tabitha was curled up in the middle of it, and gave him a disgusted look as she jumped down and stalked off.
‘I don’t think she likes me stealing you,’ he said with a grin, but Daisy just laughed and hugged him.
‘Tough,’ she said, lifting her face up to his. ‘I’ve missed you. It’s been a long weekend.’
His smile was tender. ‘It has. Much too long.’
He tunnelled his fingers through her hair, sighed in contentment and rested his forehead on hers. ‘Oh, I’m so tired. Florence was really on form today. Can I sleep in my clothes, please?’ he asked, and stifled a huge yawn.
She laughed, undressed him and toppled him into bed, then snuggled in beside him and fell asleep. It was the first time they’d gone to bed without making love, and there was something settled and homely and right about it.
And if she hadn’t been tired, if it hadn’t been late, if she’d been thinking clearly, it probably would have worried her. But it didn’t. Instead she curled into his side, her hand over his heart, and went to sleep.
Clare Griffiths took her baby home that week, and came to say goodbye. He was still small, but he was a little fighter and he was a lot bigger than he had been and the paediatricians were happy to let him go home.
Ben sneaked a cuddle—a proper one this time, and it stopped Daisy in her tracks. He looked so comfortable and at home with Thomas in his arms, as of course he would. He handled babies all day, he’d had Florence to practise on, and it seemed that every time she looked up these days he had a baby in his arms. Her emotions were in uproar when he looked up and met her eyes and she thought, What if that was our baby?
No! Was she going mad? Fun dates, hot sex and no complications, remember? Not babies! They were definitely a complication!
‘Here—he wants to say thank you to you, Daisy,’ Ben said with a smile, and passed her the tiny infant.
Oh, heavens. As he’d settled his head in the crook of her arm, his fingers had brushed her breast, and it felt so intimate, so—realistic? As if Thomas was theirs, and he’d handed him over for a feed.
Sudden tears scalded her eyes, and she handed him back, gave Clare a hug and said a hasty goodbye and excused herself, disappearing onto the gynae ward to check the post-ops and make sure they didn’t need their pain relief adjusted, but Evan had already done it and she wasn’t needed.
Pity. She could have done with a good, solid reason to stay out of Ben’s way. He was sneaking up on her blind side and it was all Florence’s fault for being so utterly delicious. She’d managed to keep children off her radar since Mike, and the babies at work had been just that—babies at work. But not now. Not since Florence. Now they were real, tiny little children, part of a family, and each and every one seemed to tear a hole in her heart.
Florence, quite by chance, had found the chink in Daisy’s armour, and the crack just kept getting wider and wider.
By the next weekend, Steve’s wife still hadn’t had her baby, and so Ben had a kitchen—or at least enough of it to have Florence to stay. He’d stayed up late on two nights painting her bedroom—nothing special, just a quick coat of emulsion over the wallpaper to freshen it up for now, and some curtains and bedding from the local DIY store, and he showed it off to Daisy when he’d finished on Thursday night.
‘So what do you think?’
‘Wow! It looks tons better. Well done,’ she said, looking around it
critically and nodding.
‘Do you think she’ll like it?’
Daisy just laughed at him softly. ‘Of course she’ll like it, Ben. It’s pink. Little girls all love pink.’
He grinned. ‘So the woman in the shop told me. I asked—just to be sure—and she said I couldn’t go wrong with that.’
‘You haven’t. And the curtains and bedding are lovely.’
‘Well, they’ll do for now. I looked for something with frogs on, but they were a bit thin on the ground.’
Daisy chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. I expect she’ll grow out of frogs soon.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I live in hope. There’s only so many times I can read her The Princess And The Frog without losing my marbles, but it makes a change from Goldilocks, I suppose.’
Daisy made a mental note to look out for frog books, because Florence’s birthday was coming up at the end of June, just a few weeks away—and then she realised what she was doing. Stupid. So stupid.
‘What?’ Ben asked, looking at her thoughtfully, and she shrugged and smiled.
‘Nothing. Just remembered something I have to do,’ she lied, and vowed to put frogs and books and little girls right out of her mind before she lost it completely. ‘I should go and get on.’
‘Really? Can’t I talk you into staying? I was hoping we could look at colour schemes, and maybe have a glass of wine,’ he said softly, but his eyes were searching hers, and he was too astute to miss the emotions coursing through her, and he sighed before she could answer.
‘Daisy, I’m sorry. I’m making assumptions—taking you for granted. You go, do whatever it is you have to do. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.’
So maybe not that astute. He’d realised she didn’t want to be there, just not why. Well, that was fine. She didn’t need an in-depth analysis of her emotional weaknesses.
She kissed him goodnight—hovered on the brink of changing her mind, but left anyway, and lay in her bed alone and wished she could find it all a little easier to be sensible and keep her distance.
She’d stay out of the way this weekend, she vowed. No going out into the garden if they were there, no listening through the wall to the sound of childish laughter—Florence’s and Ben’s—and absolutely no impromptu tea-parties with Froggy in attendance.
And maybe—just maybe—she’d get that wall back up again, brick by brick, to keep them out of her heart…
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE went to London for the weekend. Laura’s fiancé was away for his stag weekend, and she invited Daisy down at the last minute. She went, and spent the whole weekend talking weddings and helping Laura make the favours for the tables.
Just what she didn’t need, but it was probably better than listening to Florence and Ben through the wall, and he’d got the garden landscapers coming to make a start, as well, so she couldn’t even have retreated to the conservatory for peace and quiet.
She got home on Sunday evening, and almost immediately her phone rang.
She wasn’t surprised. His lights had been on and he must have heard her come in. And he was always ready to see her on Sunday evenings, after the undiluted conversation of a not-quite-three-year-old. After spending the weekend listening to Laura panic about the wedding, she was more than ready to see him, too.
‘Hi, there. Good weekend?’ he asked.
‘If you like wedding planning,’ she said with a laugh. ‘What did Florence think of her bedroom?’
‘Oh, she loved it. You were all so right about the pink. So, what are you up to? I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge and a seafood paella on the go. Fancy dinner?’
Of course she did. ‘Mmm, paella?’ she mused out loud, teasing him. ‘Are you trying to bribe me, by any chance?’
‘I can only hope,’ he said softly, and she could tell he was reaching out to her, trying to undo whatever it was he felt he’d done on Thursday night when she’d left him and come home, and she felt guilty for letting him stew. After all, it wasn’t his fault she’d been letting herself get ahead of the game.
Into another game entirely, in fact, but not any more.
‘It sounds lovely. Give me ten minutes for a shower.’
She went round and walked straight into his arms.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, gathering her to his chest and hugging her gently.
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she murmured, and went up on tiptoe and kissed him, and he made a soft sound deep in his throat and threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her back. Endlessly.
‘I’ve been thinking about Tabitha,’ he said when they came up for air.
The cat? Well, that was unexpected. ‘I’m flattered,’ she said drily. ‘What about her?’
He chuckled and kissed her nose. ‘She’s been alone all weekend, and the landscapers have been trashing her playground. She might feel the need of a bit of company and reassurance, and I feel guilty for stealing you, so why don’t we take dinner back to yours?’
She smiled at him, amazed at his thoughtfulness towards the cat who’d done nothing but treat him with disdain.
‘You do realise if we take anything fishy round there, she’ll be all over us for it?’ she warned.
‘Maybe I’m trying to bribe her to like me?’ he said with a chuckle, and she grinned.
‘Oh, it’ll work. She’s a hussy—just so long as there’s fish on the plate.’
Tabitha thought it was Christmas.
She mugged their plates, was thoroughly spoiled by Ben and spent the evening with them, snuggled on his lap with her claws in his knee and purring like a diesel engine while Daisy enjoyed having her legs to herself for once, but she didn’t get the ultimate reward. There was only so much he was prepared to do to earn Tabitha’s love, he said with a smile, and sharing the bed was above and beyond the call of duty, so they shut her out of the bedroom and tuned out her protests.
And yet again, he stayed the night.
He had an interesting case in the antenatal clinic the next afternoon, and he went and tracked Daisy down.
‘What do you know about MCMA twins?’ he asked, and her eyes widened. He could almost hear the cogs turning and for a second he thought she was going to disappoint him. He should have had more faith.
‘OK. MCMA stands for monochorionic monoamniotic—they’re identical twins that split at late embryo stage hence share placenta and both foetal membranes, unlike other twins. They’re also known as momo or mono twins.’
‘Incidence?’
‘Tiny. One in a hundred twin pregnancies, maybe?’ she tried. ‘Stats aren’t my best thing.’
‘Complications?’
She was surer on this. ‘Cord entanglement or compression, twin to twin transfusion, premature delivery and low birthweight.’
‘Management?’
‘Aggressive,’ she said firmly. ‘Close supervision, frequent scans, possibly drug therapy from 20 weeks to reduce the level of amniotic fluid. In-patient from 28 weeks with aggressive monitoring by Doppler up to three times a day, and daily scans as well at 30 plus weeks? Guessing now, but elective delivery from 32 weeks or as soon as viable in the event of an earlier emergency?’
‘Death rate?’
‘High.’
‘How high?’
‘Lord, what is this, an exam?’ she said with a wry laugh. ‘Very high. Fifty per cent? Much less with aggressive management?’
‘Excellent. You passed.’ He grinned at her. ‘Want to come and see some on a 3D scan? Mum and Dad are waiting for us.’
Her eyes widened and she felt a little leap of professional excitement. ‘You’ve got MCMAs in the clinic?’
‘Yup—and I want you to work with me on their care. She’s twenty-eight, first pregnancy, 13 weeks’ gestation. The first scan wasn’t clear, so she’s had a 3D ultrasound and the radiologist’s just phoned me with the result. I’m just about to give them the news and I thought you might like to be involved as it could be the only time you get to see them in your career.’
‘What, and give my brother the satisfaction? Not if I can avoid it. Anyway, I’ve worked with him in the same department.’
She tilted her head on one side and stared at him, confused. ‘Your brother?’ she asked blankly.
‘Matt’s a twin specialist.’
‘Ah.’ It made sense, as they were twins, and explained his choice of twin statistics as a cover for her errand on his first day. ‘Well, come on, then, what are we waiting for?’ she asked impatiently, and he chuckled and led her into the consulting room, introducing her to the patient and her husband, then he brought up the ultrasound images on his computer and swivelled the monitor so they could see it.
‘Right, let’s start at the beginning, because I don’t know how much you know about twins and I want to make sure you understand the baseline, if you like,’ he said, and then while Daisy, knowing what was coming, studied the 3D image on the screen, he explained everything she’d just recapped, but slowly, thoroughly and in great detail and without scaring them half to death. Tricky, considering the statistics and the fact that they’d clearly been doing their research.
‘Is that the same thing as momo twins?’ Melanie Grieves asked, and Ben nodded.
The colour drained from her face, and she grabbed her husband’s hand. ‘They could—’
She broke off, and Ben gave them an understanding smile.
‘OK, first off, I don’t want you to panic. I know you will have been trawling the internet, so let’s talk it all through, because the stats can look a bit scary until you break them down.’
‘Scary? Half of them die!’ she said, her voice wobbling, and he shook his head.
‘Only if they’re not monitored properly to keep an eye on the cords and make sure they’re not getting tangled or compressed. The next few weeks are probably the most critical, because there’s nothing we can do if they get tangled now, but once they’ve survived to 20 weeks, we can do more, and with aggressive management the odds of surviving rise considerably.’