The Midwife's One-Night Fling - Carol Marinelli

Скачать книгу

      ‘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 village.’

      ‘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,’

Скачать книгу