Tina Beckett

Midwives' Christmas Miracles


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sporty.’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Why on earth did you think that?’

      She laughed. ‘You’ve got that “I drive a flash car” look about you. Wouldn’t have thought there’d be much call for a four-by-four in the city. I’ve been surprised by how many I’ve seen.’

      ‘Haven’t you heard? It’s the latest fashion craze and I’m just following the crowd.’

      She shook her head. ‘Yeah, yeah. Somehow I get the distinct impression you’ve never been a crowd follower.’

      He tried to hide his smile. ‘I’m shocked. We’ve only just met and you’re trying to tell me I’m not a people pleaser.’

      She started laughing again. ‘Seriously? You were a bit grumpy this morning. The staff seem quite intimidated by you. Are you always like that?’

      ‘You were late. That’s why I was grumpy.’ It was the best excuse he could give. The truth was he’d spent the last fourteen months being grumpy—and only a few select people knew why. Jacob had always been a completely hands-on kind of doctor. Some physicians who were Head of Department reduced their clinical time by a large amount. He’d never been that kind of doctor but had been grateful to use his position as an excuse for his lack of patient contact at times over the past fourteen months. That was the thing about some types of chemotherapy—at certain times in the cycle, patient contact just wasn’t appropriate. Particularly when you had to deal with pregnant women and neonates—two of the most vulnerable groups around. Grumpy probably didn’t even come close to covering his temperament and frustration these last fourteen months.

      She shook her head as they turned into the childminder’s street. ‘I think you were grumpy long before I was late. I need to know these things. I need to know if staff won’t want to approach you about things. I need to know the dynamics of the labour suite.’

      He liked her already. She was astute. It wouldn’t be easy to pull the wool over her eyes—exactly what he should want from the sister of his labour suite. He just wished she weren’t using her astuteness on him.

      ‘You haven’t mentioned what happens with the special clients. Do I get involved with those?’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘The special clients?’

      She smiled. ‘Cambridge Royal is known for attracting the rich and famous. I haven’t had a chance to look over the plans for the general hospital. What happens if we get someone who wants a private delivery? It wouldn’t seem safe to have them in another area.’

      He was impressed. She’d obviously done a lot of background reading. ‘You’re right. It wouldn’t be safe. It isn’t public knowledge but there are six private rooms just outside the doors to the labour suite, only a few minutes from Theatre. We don’t want anyone to know where our private patients are.’

      She gave a little nod of her head. ‘Makes sense. Privacy, that’s what people want. Isn’t it? I guess we’ll need to talk about the midwifery staffing for those rooms.’

      There was something so strange about all this. Everything about being around Bonnie made him feel out of sorts. He had looked at her CV and hadn’t understood at all why Valerie Glencross had thought she would be a suitable replacement for their ward sister. Then she’d been late.

      But from the second her eyes had sparked and she’d given him a dressing-down in front of the staff he’d liked her. She was different. She’d proved more than competent at the roadside delivery. She was asking all the right questions about the ward and she was making all the right observations. Bonnie Reid was proving to be the most interesting woman he’d come across in a while.

      She opened the car door as they pulled up outside the childminder’s. ‘I’ll only be two minutes, I promise, and Lynn will be able to give me a car seat for Freya. That’s the beauty of having a friend who is a childminder. She has a garage full of these things.’

      Car seat. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. That was how far out of the loop he was when it came to children. He tried not to focus on her well-fitting jeans as she ran up the path towards the door with her auburn hair bouncing behind her.

      What kind of crazy fool cheated on a woman like Bonnie? The guy must have rocks in his head. Jacob had never realised quite how much he liked that colour of hair.

      He watched as she ran back down the path holding the hand of a little girl. She was like an identikit of her mother. Same colour hair and pale skin. It only took Bonnie a minute to arrange the car seat and strap her little girl into place. She was obviously a dab hand at these things.

      ‘Who are you?’ The voice came from the back seat.

      The little pair of curious blue eyes was fixed on his in the mirror. She had a little furrow across her brow. It was like a staring contest. A Mexican stand-off. And Jacob had a feeling he was going to lose.

      Bonnie answered as she climbed back in the car. ‘This is Mummy’s friend from work. His name is Jacob. He’s going to give us a lift back to the motel.’

      He glanced in the rear-view mirror in time to see her shrink back into her seat a little. Was he really that scary? Bonnie had already mentioned the staff might find him unapproachable. He’d never really given it much thought.

      ‘Hmm...’ came the voice from the back of the car. She really didn’t seem too sure about it. Bonnie gave him directions to the motel and he flinched when it came into view. If this was the outside—what was the inside like?

      ‘Do you need a hand?’

      ‘No,’ she said too quickly, then her voice wavered. ‘Actually, could you give me a hand carrying the car seat in?’ She jumped out and unstrapped Freya, leading the way inside.

      He followed them in, waiting patiently while she unlocked the door of her room. The first thing that hit him was the smell of damp. The really obvious smell of damp. He winced. How on earth did the motel owner think this was acceptable?

      He looked around. ‘This will play havoc with Freya’s asthma.’ The words came out before he really thought about it.

      Bonnie sucked in a deep breath and licked her lips. There was a sheen across her eyes, as if she was holding back tears.

      She’d already told him how much this bothered her. But now, seeing it with his own eyes, he understood.

      Bonnie’s pretty face was marred by a frown. He liked her. He hardly knew her but he liked her already. What was more she obviously had the skills that the labour suite badly needed right now.

      And after what he’d seen today? He didn’t want to lose her from CRMU.

      His brain was in overdrive. There was no way he could leave them here. Not now he’d seen it. Not now he’d smelled it.

      This was about work. He was prioritising the needs of the labour suite above all others. That was what he was telling himself right now, but that was the only way he could make sense of the possibility that had just flown into his head.

      ‘You have to get her out of here. A child with asthma can’t possibly stay in an environment like this.’

      This time she was blinking back tears. ‘What choice do I have?’ She sounded exasperated, her hand curled protectively around her daughter.

      ‘You can stay with me.’ The words were out before he even had a chance to think properly.

      It made no sense. It made no sense whatsoever. He was a bachelor. After the last fourteen months he liked his solitude. His home was his salvation.

      ‘What?’ Bonnie straightened up. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I mean, you and your daughter can stay with me—until you find something more suitable, of course. I have space in my house. You can stay with me.’

      ‘No. No, we can’t do that.’ She was shaking her head. ‘We don’t even really know you.’