The Surgeon's Convenient Fiancée (Medical Romance) (20 page)

Deirdre went into the gift shop and looked at the pair through the window, feigning interest in some greetings cards. The woman was, without doubt, his ex-wife Antonia. She recognized her from the photograph she had seen in Mark’s room, albeit this flesh-and-blood woman was an older, more tired version of that picture. As they stood talking, standing close together, Deirdre got a good look at her as she was facing her way, while Shay had his back to her. The woman was talking, not smiling.

It seemed clear to Deirdre that Antonia had come unexpectedly back into the country
from New Zealand, which was probably why Mark had telephoned his father. She suddenly felt physically sick and paralysed by indecision. Should she go out and make herself visible so that Shay would introduce her? After all, Shay had asked her to marry him, and she had agreed to become engaged. Somehow she could not do it. Her legs would not move, in the way she had felt paralysed and unable to get off the bus all those weeks ago.

The decision was taken out of her hands for the time being, as Shay took Antonia’s arm and gestured towards the cafeteria, no doubt suggesting a meal or a cup of coffee. When they had gone from view, Deirdre bought herself a bar of chocolate, going through the motions automatically, stalling for time to think what to do next. From the little coffee-stall in the lobby she bought a cup of coffee.

Taking these with her, she pushed blindly through the main doors to the outside, welcoming the cold and the rain as they would keep other people away and she could be alone. For now, she felt that she desperately wanted to be alone to think. She forced
herself to sip the scalding hot coffee, her appetite gone now that she felt sick.

Perhaps what she had seen meant no more than it appeared at face value. Antonia had come back to see Mark, had decided to come without informing anyone that she was coming, perhaps to assure herself that Mark was all right before anyone could arrange a neat scenario. Deirdre could imagine herself doing the same if she wanted to check up on a child. Where did that leave her? She asked herself that again. Her world, which had come to seem secure and happy, had become uncertain again, in a different way. She felt frightened that the man she loved would be overwhelmed by former loyalties and responsibilities. If you were a good parent and a decent human being, you usually did what was best for a child.

As she drank the coffee slowly and forced herself to eat some of the chocolate, the thought came to her that perhaps Shay had asked her to marry him because he had known that Antonia would eventually come back and perhaps try to reclaim her son by legal means. The letter that Mark had
written to her, his mother, would perhaps provide legal ammunition if she wanted to make another bid for him.

Perhaps Shay wanted her, Deirdre, to be a mother to Mark for those reasons, to marry her so that his claim on his son would be more assured, rather in the way that Fiona had suggested to her that if she were married she would have a better chance of being a legal guardian of Mungo and Fleur in the event of Fiona’s death.

The feeling of physical sickness increased as she thought about this, while it crystalized in her mind as a certainty rather than a possibility. Shay had, after all, admitted that he did not love her, that the marriage would be a marriage of convenience—‘if you want to put it that way’, he had said.

The dullness of the cloudy, wet day suited her mood as she stared across the street from under the shelter of the entrance overhang. Perhaps she had been naïve to think that a sophisticated, attractive professional man like Shay would be interested in her, a young woman some people would call a
‘home body’, the opposite of a sophisticated career-woman. Well, that was what she was. She enjoyed making a home for children, loving them, having pets, doing gardening, making a house into a home instead of a showcase where no one really felt comfortable—as she had seen in some of the homes of the kids’ friends. She enjoyed family dinners, cooking for people she cared about, gathering around a table to discuss personal and world affairs alike, exchanging ideas. ‘That’s the way I am,’ she said aloud, as tears pricked her eyes.

Was Shay using her, in his own way, in the same way that Jerry was using her to keep his home going while he was away, capitalizing on the fact that she loved the children? She did not want to think so, yet the persistent thought niggled at her, even though she tried to tell herself that the suspicion was a product of her low self-esteem.

‘Don’t read more into something than is there,’ she muttered to herself fiercely, while the persistent tears made her eyes ache. ‘Wait until you have talked to Shay.’

As she walked back across the lobby to get to the elevator once again, she tried to
compose herself, repeating like a mantra the need to be fair and keep an open mind. If she had possessed a certain aplomb, she would go to the cafeteria now and pretend that she had not seen Shay and Antonia in the lobby, just walk by them so that he would have to acknowledge her presence, and the ball would be in his court. She did not have that aplomb.

Shay was due back in the operating room very soon to continue with the operating list of elective cases. This time she would be the circulating nurse while her colleague would be the scrub nurse, as they generally alternated with cases. Perhaps she would get an opportunity to tell Shay that she had seen him with Antonia. If she did not tell him right away, she could imagine that the tension between them would be unbearable.

‘Will you scrub, Anne?’ she asked her colleague as soon as she returned to room one.

‘Yes, if you like. The patient’s on his way, and we’ve put in a call for Shay.’

‘OK,’ Deirdre said, feeling calmer now that professional mode had to take over. Her private life must not intrude, yet she had every intention of saying something to Shay.

‘I’ll open the packs,’ she added, while Anne went out of the room to the scrub sinks. She would open the sterile packs of drapes and instruments on the wheeled tables that Anne would need.

She had her back to the door when Shay came in, yet she could sense his presence, knew it was him. The pull of attraction between them was like a palpable thing.

‘Deirdre,’ he said, merely to acknowledge her.

She turned round to him, struck anew by how attractive he looked in his green scrub suit, his tall, masculine frame accentuated by the simplicity of the attire. Yet somehow he suddenly seemed a little more remote from her. He was tying on a face mask.

Deciding that confrontation was the best way to proceed, she said, ‘I saw you in the lobby with Antonia.’

‘Oh…’ he said, suddenly still, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

‘I…assume she came to see Mark?’ she forced herself to say calmly, while inside she wanted to shout at him to tell her what was going on. ‘That neither you nor Mark knew
she was coming. Otherwise you would have told me—yes?’

‘Yes, on all counts,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry you had to see her before I had a chance to explain.’

‘Is that why you want to marry me?’ she said bitterly, blurting the words out, not having planned to say them at that precise moment. Her anxiety was speaking for her. ‘So that Antonia would have less of a chance in maybe taking Mark away…if that is what she wants to do?’

‘No!’ he said emphatically, as they faced each other tensely in that inappropriate setting for such a conversation. ‘Legal custody has been settled.’

‘That could perhaps be overturned,’ she persisted. ‘Mark sent her a letter saying he missed her.’ She wondered if he knew that she herself had suggested such a letter to the sad boy. Some time soon she would have to bring that up. Right now, she felt tense with anxiety about her future with Shay. At the same time, she felt a grudging respect for Antonia in having, apparently, responded to her son’s call.

‘You have no need to be jealous,’ he said astutely.

Before she could reply, the anaesthetist stuck his head round the door. ‘Hi, Shay,’ he said. ‘Is it all systems go?’

‘Yes, as far as I’m concerned,’ he said. ‘Deirdre?’

‘Give us five minutes,’ she said, turning away from Shay to get on with her work. Her throat felt tight with emotion.

‘We’ll talk later,’ Shay said, going out.

* * *

‘Can you stay late?’ one of the senior nurses said to her at three o’clock. ‘To help out the evening shift nurses?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t this time,’ she said decisively, deciding in that instant. ‘I have to pick up children from school.’

‘I didn’t know you had kids.’

‘Well, I do. Sorry. Sometimes I can do it, but not today.’

That was that. She wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

Shay came up to her as she was washing her hands at the scrub sinks, as they were between cases. ‘Can I see you later on
tonight, to talk?’ he asked. ‘I could come to your place. Mark is going out to dinner with his mother, to get to know her again without my presence.’

‘All right,’ she agreed, her voice stiff. ‘Come to my house, for supper, if you like, or afterwards if you don’t have time. What does it all mean, Shay?’

‘We’ll talk later,’ he said gently. ‘For you and me, there’s no change.’

‘I don’t quite see it that way,’ she said bleakly.

It was time to go back into the room, until she was relieved by the evening shift nurses and could go to pick up the kids. His very gentleness brought a tightening of her throat again and the threat of tears to her eyes. Perhaps that was his way of hinting to her that what they had shared would soon be over, preparing her, in spite of his words to the contrary. How difficult it was to go back into that room and behave in a normal professional manner.

W
ITH
M
UNGO AND
Fleur in tow, she stopped at Jerry’s house
en route
to her own, to find him there.

‘That’s Jerry’s car,’ Fleur said, indicating the expensive European car that was parked on the street opposite the house.

‘So it is,’ she said, as she parked outside the house gate, too preoccupied to worry about any sort of confrontation with him. True to her word, she had not cooked for him from the time that she had told him she would not do it any more. ‘Get anything you have to pick up here, then we’ll go on to my place for supper. I want to stop at a fish shop to get some seafood. You two can help me cook. Shay might be joining us for supper.’

‘Great!’ Mungo said. ‘Will Mark be there?’

‘I don’t think he can come, but I’m not certain.’ This was not the right moment to tell
them that Mark’s mother had arrived in the country.

Jerry was on the phone in the kitchen when they all trooped in, relieving them of a necessary preliminary greeting. Deirdre just raised a hand to him before starting on her round of the house to make sure everything was all right, while Mungo and Fleur went upstairs to get clothes and books. As time went by, they kept less and less there. Although it was a large, modern and convenient house, it did not seem like home to any of them. It had Jerry’s stamp on it in the showy furniture and carpets that were, it seemed to her, more suitable to a mogul’s palace. Even so, she never criticized it to the children. It was Jerry’s taste, and that was that. It was partly his house after all. Very soon, she hoped, she would not have to be in it.

‘Hi, there,’ Jerry said when they came downstairs again. ‘How’s the family, then?’ He was smiling affably, no doubt having concluded a good business deal.

‘We’re good,’ Mungo said, with dignity. ‘We’re just going over to Dee’s for supper.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll be leaving for Hong Kong tomorrow night.’

‘All right,’ Deirdre said. ‘Everything here at the house is good.’

He nodded, already distancing himself from them, distracted. ‘I’ll be joining friends for dinner,’ he said, as though she had not told him that she was not going to cook, as though the initiative were his. ‘We’re going to the Clarion Hotel.’

Deirdre nodded. ‘Have a good journey,’ she said politely.

They filed out of the house again and into her car. ‘Now for the fish shop,’ she said, letting out a sigh of relief.

‘Mollykins will love us for getting fish,’ Fleur said.

* * *

The supper was almost ready later when Shay called to say he was on his way. Deirdre, sensitive to his tone, was aware that he was tense, and there was an answering tension in her. Perhaps something had to be resolved between them this evening.

Round her neck on a chain she wore the heavy silver and amber ring that they had
chosen together from the studio of a local craftsman, which was part of their pledge to one another. It signified that although she had not exactly said she would marry him—although she longed for it—it did signify that she was holding herself aloof from others to be with him with a view to marriage, a promise of sorts. That promise could be broken, of course. It was not, she thought self-deprecatingly, that there were any others.

The ring was warm with her body heat against her skin, hidden under clothing, reminding her of her troth, if one could call it that. The warmth of it, its heaviness, were somehow reassuring in this time of uncertainty. She liked the word ‘troth’, which she knew meant ‘truth’ in Old English. Perhaps this evening they would each speak their truth. Shay had said to her that he wanted her to have the ring, to keep it for ever, no matter what happened between them, so she had accepted it on those terms. They had discussed that they both liked amber, because it was an ancient fossil resin, from something that had once lived. Although there were imitations, the real thing was not common. Even
though Shay had not said that he loved her, it signified to her a lasting love.

‘Would you let Shay in, please, Mungo?’ she said when the doorbell rang. ‘Fleur, please help me carry the dishes into the dining room.’

‘Where’s Mark tonight?’ Deirdre heard Mungo ask when he let Shay into the front hall.

‘He’s gone out to dinner with someone else,’ Shay said. ‘I’ll tell you about it a little later.’

When she went out to greet him she was shocked to see how exhausted he looked. His face was pale and drawn as though he were tormented by mental anguish—as probably he was, she thought.