that her father had gone out and wasn’t about to pop out of the woodwork at any moment and cause a scene.
She headed for the stairs, still thinking about her father and not really conscious of the extra effort it took to mount them now that she was pregnant, but evidently Ben noticed because as she arrived at the door of the staffroom he asked, ‘How long are you planning to work?’
His voice had a firm edge to it and she looked up at him questioningly.
‘Today? Till six-thirty.’
‘In your pregnancy.’
‘Oh.’ So he was doing the proprietorial father bit, was he? ‘Till I have the baby,’ she said defiantly, and then, before he could argue, qualified it with, ‘Well, as long as I can, really. I’ll cut out house calls soon, especially if the weather gets bad, and I’ve already stopped doing night calls. That’s one of the advantages of being a pregnant woman in a practice of three single men—they’re so busy fussing over me and taking work off me I have to fight them for every last patient!’
His mouth twitched, and he gave a soft laugh. ‘And I bet you do.’
‘Absolutely. I don’t need to be pandered to,’ she told him firmly. ‘I’m pregnant, Ben, not sick.’ She filled the kettle and switched it on, made them two mugs of tea and picked them up. ‘Can you get the doors, please?’ she said, and he dutifully led her through into Kate’s room and shut the door behind them.
She plonked the mugs down on Kate’s desk, took the plans of the surgery from the drawer in the filing cabinet and smoothed them out, then laid her tracing-paper alterations over the top. ‘Right, this is what I’d thought could be done,’ she said, and launched into her explanation.
He couldn’t fault it.
She knew just what she wanted and, apart from a very few suggestions, there was nothing she’d planned he wouldn’t have been more than happy with in their situation.
He told her so, pointed out the few changes he’d make, and they did some little scribbles on the tracing paper, then she sat back and rubbed her tummy and winced.
‘Braxton Hicks?’ he guessed, and she nodded.
‘Yes. It’s beginning to drive me mad. Every time I sit still for any length of time I get them, over and over again. I swear I don’t need any more practise contractions. My uterus is going to be so toned up by the time I give birth it’s ridiculous.’
‘I suppose you’re sure of your dates?’ he said, and then immediately regretted it because she glared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
‘As there was only the one occasion,’ she snapped, ‘it would be hard to miscalculate.’
‘Three, if I remember correctly,’ he murmured.
‘Three?’
‘Occasions,’ he said, and she coloured and turned away with a little sound of frustration.
‘That’s irrelevant.’
‘Not to me,’ he said. Her colour deepened and she stood up and walked over to the window, rubbing her back. He got up and followed her, standing by her side and drawing her against him, putting the heel of his hand into the small of her back and massaging it firmly while he held her steady against his chest.
Silly girl. She needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with this independent nonsense a minute longer.
For a moment she stood stiffly, then with a ragged little sigh she leant into him, dropped her head forward and gave herself up to the comfort of his touch. It just felt so good to have him hold her, and she’d missed that so much, having someone to hug her and hold her. Her mother had always hugged her, and her father used to, but her mother was gone and her father had shut down and now there was no one.
Except Ben, and his hand was moving slowly, rhythmically round on her back, easing out the kinks in her muscles and soothing the tension. And she would have stood there for ever, but she heard footsteps outside and a tap on the door, and she stepped away from Ben just as Dragan put his head round the door and
She headed for the stairs, still thinking about her father and not really conscious of the extra effort it took to mount them now that she was pregnant, but evidently Ben noticed because as she arrived at the door of the staffroom he asked, ‘How long are you planning to work?’
His voice had a firm edge to it and she looked up at him questioningly.
‘Today? Till six-thirty.’
‘In your pregnancy.’
‘Oh.’ So he was doing the proprietorial father bit, was he? ‘Till I have the baby,’ she said defiantly, and then, before he could argue, qualified it with, ‘Well, as long as I can, really. I’ll cut out house calls soon, especially if the weather gets bad, and I’ve already stopped doing night calls. That’s one of the advantages of being a pregnant woman in a practice of three single men—they’re so busy fussing over me and taking work off me I have to fight them for every last patient!’
His mouth twitched, and he gave a soft laugh. ‘And I bet you do.’
‘Absolutely. I don’t need to be pandered to,’ she told him firmly. ‘I’m pregnant, Ben, not sick.’ She filled the kettle and switched it on, made them two mugs of tea and picked them up. ‘Can you get the doors, please?’ she said, and he dutifully led her through into Kate’s room and shut the door behind them.
She plonked the mugs down on Kate’s desk, took the plans of the surgery from the drawer in the filing cabinet and smoothed them out, then laid her tracing-paper alterations over the top. ‘Right, this is what I’d thought could be done,’ she said, and launched into her explanation.
He couldn’t fault it.
She knew just what she wanted and, apart from a very few suggestions, there was nothing she’d planned he wouldn’t have been more than happy with in their situation.
He told her so, pointed out the few changes he’d make, and they did some little scribbles on the tracing paper, then she sat back and rubbed her tummy and winced.
‘Braxton Hicks?’ he guessed, and she nodded.
‘Yes. It’s beginning to drive me mad. Every time I sit still for any length of time I get them, over and over again. I swear I don’t need any more practise contractions. My uterus is going to be so toned up by the time I give birth it’s ridiculous.’
‘I suppose you’re sure of your dates?’ he said, and then immediately regretted it because she glared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
‘As there was only the one occasion,’ she snapped, ‘it would be hard to miscalculate.’
‘Three, if I remember correctly,’ he murmured.
‘Three?’
‘Occasions,’ he said, and she coloured and turned away with a little sound of frustration.
‘That’s irrelevant.’
‘Not to me,’ he said. Her colour deepened and she stood up and walked over to the window, rubbing her back. He got up and followed her, standing by her side and drawing her against him, putting the heel of his hand into the small of her back and massaging it firmly while he held her steady against his chest.
Silly girl. She needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with this independent nonsense a minute longer.
For a moment she stood stiffly, then with a ragged little sigh she leant into him, dropped her head forward and gave herself up to the comfort of his touch. It just felt so good to have him hold her, and she’d missed that so much, having someone to hug her and hold her. Her mother had always hugged her, and her father used to, but her mother was gone and her father had shut down and now there was no one.
Except Ben, and his hand was moving slowly, rhythmically round on her back, easing out the kinks in her muscles and soothing the tension. And she would have stood there for ever, but she heard footsteps outside and a tap on the door, and she stepped away from Ben just as Dragan put his head round the door and
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