Tempted by Dr. Daisy (8 page)

‘I'll bet. Did you live in town?'

‘No—well, on the edge of town, with fields behind the house, and we had a million rescued cats and dogs and rabbits and goats and God knows else what to keep us occupied.'

‘Why weren't you a vet?' she asked curiously, and he laughed.

‘Because I didn't want to spend my life up to my knees in mud and worse, freezing to death in a stone barn in January with my arm up the back of a cow. Next question?'

She laughed with him, and then gave it serious thought. ‘With Matt, do you hurt when he hurts?'

‘Gosh. That's a deep one. Do you mean physically?'

‘Whatever.'

He nodded slowly. ‘Maybe. I was sick when he had appendicitis. We share a lot—tell each other things we wouldn't tell another living soul. But then, don't all siblings?'

‘I don't know, I'm an only child. Mike's kids were close, though, poor little things, and I'm glad they were, because at least they had each other. They didn't deserve what he did to them—to all of us.'

His eyes were sympathetic, and he nodded slowly. ‘Is that them, on your fridge?'

‘Freya and Millie. Yes. I still miss them. If Mike had been half the father to them that you are to Florence, things would have been fine, but he wasn't, he was weak and self-centred and I should have seen it sooner, then none of us would have been so badly hurt.'

‘I'm sorry,' he said softly, and she shrugged and got up, shutting the windows.

‘One of those things. It was years ago now—nearly three.'

‘And he went back to his wife.'

‘Yes. He never really left her. They were still sleeping together, all the time he was with me. I had no idea.'

She saw the realisation in his eyes, the explanation for her insecurity over him staying at Jane's.

‘Oh, Daisy. I'm sorry. Was that when you moved away?'

‘Yes. I didn't need to hear any more about him, and he started phoning me, sucking up again. Bored, I expect. Time to cut and run.'

‘Sounds like it was a good move.'

She turned and looked at him, her eyes sad. ‘I thought it would be, but I'm not so sure now. Out of the frying pan and all that.'

He felt sick. She looked defeated, resigned, and he'd done this to her. ‘Oh, hell, Daisy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't
have let this go so far. It was always going to be too complicated. I'm being selfish.'

‘No, you're not. I went into this with my eyes open.'

‘No, you didn't. I didn't tell you about Florence until we'd almost slept together.'

‘I could have stopped it there,' she said, but they both knew she was lying. It had been too late the moment they set eyes on each other, him covered in plaster, her covered in tea. Their eyes had met and that had been it, and their first kiss and everything that followed it had been inevitable.

He shifted the cat off his lap and stood up. ‘Do you want me to go?' he asked, wondering if this was the end, if she was finally coming to her senses and kicking him out, as she probably should have done weeks ago, but she shook her head.

‘It's too late, Ben,' she said simply. ‘I already love you.'

He felt as if she'd punched him in the solar plexus, and he closed his eyes. ‘Daisy, no. Not that.'

‘What, the “L” word? I thought we'd agreed on honesty?' She reached out for him, taking his hand and cradling it against her heart. ‘I know the rules, Ben, and I'm not trying to change anything. I'm just telling you the truth. I just wish it could be different, less complicated, but it isn't and I don't have the strength to walk away from you now.'

God help him, he didn't have the strength to walk away from her, either. He folded her against his chest, rested his face against her hair and breathed in her fragrance. To hell with the rules.

‘For what it's worth, I love you, too,' he admitted softly, his voice gruff with emotion. ‘And I wish—'

‘I know.' She stepped away. ‘Come to bed.'

Their loving was heartbreakingly tender, and when it
was over Daisy lay in his arms, silent tears leaking from her eyes.

‘Don't cry.'

‘I'm not,' she lied, her voice clogged with tears.

‘I thought we were being honest.'

‘We are.' She squeezed her eyes tight shut and hugged him. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Me, too. You deserve so much more.'

‘Ben, I don't want more, I want you, and if this is what we have, then I'll treasure it for as long as it lasts. And I know that won't be forever, but let's just enjoy it while we can.'

His arms tightened, and he pressed his lips to her hair and wished—hell, he didn't know what he wished. That she'd never met Mike? Oh, yes—but then she wouldn't be here and he wouldn't have met her. That Florence didn't exist? Impossible to wish that.

That Daisy was her mother?

The ache that gave him in the region of his heart nearly took his breath away.

 

Steve's wife was admitted the following day in labour, and Amy called for Daisy.

‘She's breech and I'm not sure she's going to be able to deliver. Want to try, or do you want to send in the big guns?'

‘Ben's on call this week. I'll find him,' she said, reluctant to take the responsibility. She'd tell him what was going on and hand over, but she didn't want to work with him today, she was still feeling fraught after last night.

She shouldn't have told him she loved him. She should have let sleeping dogs lie, but no, she'd had to confess, and now it seemed they were both in deeper than they'd
wanted to be, and their light-hearted affair was turning into an emotional minefield.

He was in his office struggling with paperwork, and he was only too happy to leave it—but he was taking Daisy with him. ‘You need the experience,' he said, and she couldn't argue with it, so she went. ‘Any idea what kind of breech?' he asked as they walked down the ward.

‘No. I haven't seen her. The baby turned last night.'

‘Really? That's late. I wonder if I can turn it back.'

‘Are you good at it?'

‘I'm good at everything—except relationships,' he added quietly, and pushed the door open and ushered her in.

‘Hello, Steve. Marian, isn't it? Hi, I'm Ben.' He shook their hands, and Steve looked relieved to see him.

‘Glad it's you, guv,' he said anxiously. ‘Can you sort it?'

‘I'm sure we can,' he said, snapping on gloves and feeling Marian's abdomen. ‘Amy, can I have an update?'

‘Slow progress, she's 3 centimetres dilated and that hasn't changed for over an hour. Heartbeat's normal, but labour's just not progressing.'

‘Your baby's obviously got a skinny little bottom,' he said with a smile, then asked Daisy to feel the baby's position.

‘What do you think?'

‘It's a frank breech, I think. I'm sure I can feel at least one foot up by the head.'

‘Yes. I can only feel one, but the other one won't be far away. So it's a good position for a natural delivery, or I could try and turn it. How frequent are the contractions?'

‘Every five minutes,' Amy said, and they then paused while Marian breathed her way through one.

‘It doesn't feel as if it's doing anything,' she complained afterwards. ‘It's not like my other labours.'

‘How many babies have you had?'

‘This is the fourth—and the last. That's what you get for going on holiday to somewhere uncivilised.'

‘It was only Turkey! She was on the pill and got sick,' Steve chipped in.

‘It happens,' Ben said wryly, and Daisy frowned. Was that what had happened to Jane?

There was no time to think about it, though, because he was feeling her abdomen again, apologising as he dug his fingers in deeply around her pelvis and flexed them a little. ‘I think it might be possible to persuade this youngster to right itself. Want to give it a go?'

‘Will it hurt?' Marian asked.

Ben pulled a face. ‘Not hurt, exactly. It don't think it'll be very comfortable, but all I want to do is push the top and bottom in opposite directions to try and spin it. The baby often joins in and kicks, and that seems to help. Either it'll work, or it won't, and then we think again. Want to try?' he said, and she nodded.

Without wasting any time, he laid one hand on the back of the baby's head, the other low down on the other side, and as he pushed and jiggled and coaxed, there was a shift, her abdomen changed shape and Ben's hands followed through as the baby somersaulted into the right position.

He straightened up, grinning, and gave Marian a broad wink.

‘There you go. One baby, the right way up, and settling nicely into your pelvis. Go on, down you go, little one,' he said, giving it an encouraging little push, and her eyes widened.

‘Oh—gosh—that feels a bit more like it,' she gasped, and grabbed Steve's hand, panting furiously.

Amy was at the business end, and she looked up a min
ute later. ‘OK, Marian, that's lovely, keep breathing. Your waters have broken and you're doing really well.'

Daisy and Ben stayed. Technically they weren't needed, but things had moved on so fast that a second midwife hadn't come yet, so they were there when a squalling baby slithered into Amy's waiting hands, bright red with indignation and screaming the place down.

She laid her on Marian's front as she sagged back against the pillows, laughing and crying and trying to get her breath, and as she stared down, her eyes welled over.

‘It's a girl!'

‘Of course it's a girl,' Steve said, trying and failing to hang onto his masculine pride as the tears coursed down his cheeks. ‘Only a woman would change her mind that late, and then change back again!'

They all laughed, and Daisy leant over for a closer look at the new arrival. She'd stopped crying now and she was staring up, transfixed, into her mother's eyes, and Daisy felt an unexpected lump in her throat.

‘Oh, she's lovely. Congratulations,' she said. ‘Has she got a name?'

‘Yes—Tommy,' Marian said drily, and they all laughed again. ‘I didn't let myself get carried away with girls' names, because I just knew she'd be a boy like the others.'

‘Apparently not,' Amy said with a smile as she clamped and cut the cord. ‘Still, you've got a few days.'

‘Oh, it seems wrong not having a name for her,' Marian said, stroking her baby's face with a gentle finger. ‘Who are you, sweetheart, hmm? What's your name? Are you a Katie?'

Another midwife arrived, so they left the little family in their capable hands, trying out names on their daughter.

Outside in the corridor, Ben hesitated.

‘Coffee?' he said, but Daisy shook her head. Just watch
ing Marian and Steve with their beautiful little girl gave her a hollow ache inside. She was getting broody, she realised, and that was so, so dangerous. So easy to get lulled into a fantasy world, now the ‘L' word was out of the box. She should have kept her mouth shut.

‘I've got loads to do—patients waiting. I'll see you later.'

Except it was quiet, for once, and she had altogether too much time to think about Ben and the fact that he loved her, too—and that still, even so, there was no way forward.

T
HE
status quo persisted between them for the next couple of weeks. The landscapers had taken down the fence between them, and that weekend, he'd got Florence as usual.

Which would have been fine, except that it was getting hotter as spring moved towards summer, and Daisy needed to plant her containers. And because it was warm, because the landscapers had carefully pruned the trees and left a shady canopy over part of the garden, Florence was out there with Ben, running around in the fresh air and playing games with him.

Daisy wanted to join in.

Well, no, she didn't. She wanted him to take her away, she corrected herself, but of course he didn't, and Florence, being the delightfully friendly little girl that she was, kept coming over to her with things she'd found—a wood louse, a pretty stone, a flower she'd picked her—endless little visits that scraped away at the sore place in her heart until it bled.

‘Can Froggy come to my garden?' she asked after yet another trip to show something off. ‘I want him to see it.'

‘Sure,' she said, and Florence picked him up, very carefully in case she hurt him, and carried him back to Ben, chattering to him all the way.

Daisy turned her back on it all and carried on potting
up her containers, but all the time her ears were tuned to the sound of their voices, and she reached for the last pot with an element of desperation.

Thank goodness for that, she thought as she crammed in the last scrap of lobelia and picked up the hose. A good soaking and they'd be done and she could go back inside and make herself scarce.

‘They's very pretty!'

She turned the hose off and smiled down at Florence. ‘Thank you. They'll be prettier when all the flowers come out, and some of them will smell lovely.'

Her chubby little fingers touched a blue brachyscome flower with exaggerated care. ‘Is that a daisy like you?'

She laughed softly. ‘Sort of. It's called a Swan River daisy, and these are verbena, and this is a geranium. Here, squash this leaf in your fingers and smell them. You have to rub your fingers together—there. Can you smell it now?'

Her little button nose wrinkled, and she giggled. ‘It smells funny—like lemons!'

‘That's right. It's called a lemon-scented geranium, and it has really pretty pink flowers like your bedroom.'

‘And the daisies are blue.'

‘They are. And the verbena's going to be a lovely purple colour.'

She fingered another plant. ‘What's this?'

‘That's lobelia, and this is an ivy-leaf geranium, and this is called Creeping Jenny—'

‘Daisy, I'm so, so sorry, I had to take a phone call,' Ben said, reappearing beside them. ‘Florence, come on, darling, leave Daisy alone. You can see she's busy.'

‘No, she's finished!' Florence said. ‘Aren't you?'

Her little face was tilted earnestly up to Daisy's, and she felt her heart squeeze. ‘Yes, I am. It's OK, Ben.'

But it wasn't. Her heart was being invaded by him and
his little daughter, slowly but surely taking up residence in every nook and cranny of it until it was bursting with love for them.

She looked down again, and Florence was stroking the flowers in the last little pot tenderly.

Oh, what the hell, she thought, and bent down, pressing her hands between her knees and smiling at the little girl.

‘I tell you what, why don't you have this little one, and you can water it when you're here at the weekends, and look after it and watch it grow. I'm sure Daddy can find a place for it in your garden somewhere.'

She lifted it up and held it out to him, and after a second's hesitation, he took it.

‘Thank you,' he murmured, as if he knew what it had cost her, that it wasn't the plant she was giving his daughter but a gift infinitely more precious. ‘There, Florence. Your own pot! What do you say?'

‘Thank you,' she piped, beaming at it and then at Daisy, making her heart turn over. ‘Can Froggy look after it for me when I'm not here?'

Ben sighed. ‘No, he belongs to Daisy, Florence, you know that.'

‘She can have him. That's fine.'

He gave a rueful chuckle and thanked her. She knew perfectly well that he thought the little concrete frog was as hideous as she did, but Florence adored him, and that was all that mattered.

He put the pot down in his garden, out of the way of the landscapers, and she put Froggy down beside it.

‘Come on, Florence, time to wash your hands. We're going to go to the playground now.'

Florence ran to the outside tap and turned it on carefully, running her fingers under the dribble. ‘Washed them!' she said, wiping them on her once-pink dungarees, and
then bent over, sticking her little rump in the air and telling Froggy very seriously to look after her plant. Daisy watched her, torn between laughter and tears, and she was very much afraid the tears would win.

She'd just managed to suppress them both when Florence straightened up and bounced over to Ben and said, ‘Ready!'

She waggled her fingers at Daisy, and she waggled hers back and squashed the little pang inside. ‘Have a lovely time,' she said, wishing she was going, too. Wishing so many things that were just so dangerous to wish…

Ben, watching the interchange between them, saw the sadness in her eyes just before she masked it, and before he could stop himself, he said impulsively, ‘Why don't you come, too?'

‘Oh, yes, Daisy come! Please come!' Florence squealed, bouncing up and down with her little curls flying, and he watched the brief internal battle before she crumpled.

She looked up at him, reproach in her eyes, and was on the point of refusing when Florence ran up to her and took her hand. ‘Please come? It will be much funner if you're there and you said you're finished,' she begged with wide, pleading eyes just so like Ben's it hurt, and Daisy gave up.

‘I'm not dressed for it,' she said a little desperately, but Florence didn't care.

‘You can change,' she said with three-year-old logic. ‘We'll wait for you. Please please please
please
?'

Cursing him silently, she stripped off her gardening gloves and ran upstairs, changing into clean jeans and a T-shirt. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and was reaching for the makeup when she stopped herself.

No! They were taking the child to the playground, against her better judgement, and she didn't need to tart herself up for it! The sooner they went, the sooner they'd be back, and the sooner it would be over. She ran back
down, and found Florence and Froggy in earnest conversation about the plant.

‘I'm sorry,' Ben said softly as she reached his side.

She made a small, ‘just you wait' sort of noise, and fell in beside them as they headed to the little park just a couple of streets away, Florence dancing around between them like a puppy, oblivious to the atmosphere between the adults.

‘Can we go on the see-saw?' she asked Ben hopefully.

‘Maybe, if Daisy doesn't mind.'

Daisy did mind, but there wasn't a lot she could do about it. The problem was that although Ben weighed more than she and Florence put together, he was much, much heavier than Florence alone, so without Daisy to balance they didn't have a hope of making the see-saw work.

Simple ergonomics—except there was nothing simple about this equation.

Ben + Florence + Daisy = Disaster, she thought, and she was right. He went on one end, and she went on the other, with Florence cuddled up against her tummy and hanging onto the handle. He sat down carefully, and they lifted up into the air, but not so far that Daisy's feet were off the ground.

And Florence loved it.

Up and down, up and down, faster and faster while Florence shrieked with delight, her little body snuggled safe against Daisy's and making her want to cry. So sweet. So precious. So very, very easy to love.

She could have scooped her up and cuddled her to bits, but she kept on pushing, up and down, and up and down, until finally Ben stopped the ride by bracing his legs and bringing them to a halt.

‘More!' Florence pleaded, but in the middle of laugh
ing with Florence and having fun, Ben had caught Daisy's eyes and seen the pain in them, and he'd felt gutted.

What the hell were they doing? What on earth was he doing to her? To Florence? To all of them? He'd promised Daisy he'd keep Florence out of her way, and he'd done nothing of the sort.

‘No, that's enough see-sawing,' he said firmly but gently, and got off. ‘Come on, I'll push you on the swing. You like that.'

He lifted her clear of the see-saw and carried her to the swings, settling her in the seat safely before pushing it high. The see-saw forgotten, she shrieked with delighted laughter, and Daisy went over to a bench and sat down and watched them, wondering how on earth she could have got herself into this position again.

‘I'm sorry.'

He'd lifted her out of the swing and left her on a bouncy little rocking horse nearby, and he sat down heavily beside Daisy and propped his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between them, looking the picture of dejection. ‘I should have thought before I opened my mouth.'

‘Yes, you should. You shouldn't have asked me in front of her,' she said quietly. ‘You knew I'd have no choice. I couldn't refuse a child, could I? Not without sounding mean.'

He tilted his head so he could see her, his eyes searching. ‘You could have done—but I didn't think you wanted to. You looked so sad—as if you couldn't bear to be left out.'

‘And this helps?' she asked incredulously. ‘I can't
do
it, Ben. It was supposed to be about us—about fun, remember? Fun dates, hot sex and no complications, that's what we said. But it's not fun any more, Ben, it just hurts. I'm sorry. I thought we could keep this in its box, but we can't.
It just spills over into everything else, and we're all going to end up hurt. It's just hopeless. You can't keep her away from me while you're living next door, it just isn't possible, and I'm not playing happy families all over again. I'm not ready for this, and I don't know if I ever will be.'

His eyes met hers, the naked emotion in them tearing through her, and then he masked it and sat up straight, his hands braced on his knees as he dragged in a deep breath. ‘So where does that leave us?' he asked, dreading her answer, and she gave a sad little shrug.

‘We both know it's going nowhere, so why drag it on?'

He opened his mouth, closed it and pressed his lips into a firm line. How could he have been so stupid? It was never going to work. She was on the rebound, he'd known that, and this was resurrecting all that old hurt. Well, he couldn't say he hadn't been warned.

‘You're right. I'm sorry. Look, why don't you head on back, and I'll bring her back in a little while. And we'll keep out of your way.'

She nodded and got unsteadily to her feet, then with a little wave to Florence, she walked away.

Something she should have done weeks ago…

 

‘Daddy, why's Daisy going?'

Ben could hardly answer her. The lump in his throat was huge, and he swallowed hard, then again.

‘Uh—she's got lots to do,' he said eventually, and wondered if it was his imagination or if his voice really sounded as if he'd swallowed a handful of rusty nails.

‘Can I go on the slide?'

‘OK. Come on, then.'

He helped her up, over and over again, dredging up a smile from somewhere until he thought his face would crack, then he called a halt and took hold of her hand.

‘Come on, let's go back now. It's time for supper.'

‘Can we see Daisy?'

‘Daisy's busy,' he said, his voice catching, and he cleared his throat and headed for the gate, Florence in tow. He wasn't really concentrating on Florence, just putting one foot in front of the other, his thoughts tumbling in free-fall.

We both know it's going nowhere.

But he needed her so much, and it seemed to have been going so well. For the first time in years, he'd been truly happy.

‘Daddy, look at me!'

She was walking along the top of a little low garden wall—something that under normal circumstances he would have stopped her doing, but he just smiled absently and tightened his grip on her hand in case she toppled.

And then a loose brick twisted away under her foot, and she fell off the wall and he jerked her arm up without thinking to steady her.

The thin scream cut through him to the bone, and he dropped to his knees beside her, gathering her gently into his arms as a sickening wave of guilt rushed over him. ‘No! Don't touch!' she screamed, backing away, her arm hanging awkwardly in front of her, held in place by the other one, and he stared at her, shock holding him rigid for a second.

He'd dislocated her elbow! He couldn't believe he'd done it. So easy, so stupid. And he knew what to do now, but he couldn't do it alone, and she was his daughter, for heaven's sake, and if he'd only been paying attention…

‘It's OK, sweetheart. It's just in a crick. It'll be fine soon. I'll call Daisy, she'll come and help us.' It would have to be Daisy, because Jane was away with Peter. Of all the weekends to decide to go away with him…

He fumbled for his phone, his fingers shaking so much he could scarcely operate it, and when it went straight to her voicemail he could have wept. He was about to call the house phone when she rang him back.

‘Ben, I—'

‘Daisy, help. She fell off the wall and I grabbed her, and I've dislocated her elbow, and Jane's away, so I can't ask her.'

There was a fraction of a second of silence, in which she must have heard Daisy sobbing, then she said, calmly and firmly, ‘OK, stay with her, I'll bring the car and we'll take her to A and E. Where are you?'