Daisy and the Doctor
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Meredith Webber
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CHAPTER ONE
THE phone call came as Daisy was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she’d made the worst mistake of her life when she’d told the radio station that ran her talk-back psychology show she was quitting.
True, she had a part-time temporary job starting Monday, and still had her interactive web-site, but the radio show that had been her life for so long was now someone else’s baby.
Baby!
Oh, dear! Was she game? Would she go through with this mad idea? Could she do it?
The idea of a baby snuggled warmly beneath her breast. Her baby! A child to whom she could give all the love she’d been denied—all the love that filled her heart to overflowing but presently had no outlet, other than her cyber-patients.
But was single parenthood fair on the baby?
Better than some alternatives, surely…
Awash in a sea of confusion, she reached for the receiver with all the relief of a shipwrecked sailor reaching for a lifebelt. Anything to stop thinking.
‘Hello!’
‘Daisy, it’s Gabi. I’m sorry to phone you so early but I’m up in the penthouse. You know Madeleine and Graham Frost are away?’
Without waiting for a response, Gabi Graham, a neighbour from the fourth floor of the Near West building where Daisy lived, rushed on. ‘And Ingrid’s throwing a fit, says she’s leaving, and as she packs she’s alternately cursing both Madeleine and Madeleine’s brother Julian, who’s here while the Frosts are away. Well, I think that’s what she’s doing, it’s mostly in Swedish—and she’s talking about cows. She said “cows” in English, but maybe it’s a Swedish word as well and she’s not talking about real cows.’
Daisy stifled a giggle as she pictured the scene, which must be hilarious, given the usually calm Gabi’s flustered reaction to the beautiful Swedish nanny’s volatility.
‘I have to go to work,’ Gabi said, more hesitant now.
There was a moment’s pause before she added, ‘And you do know Ingrid better than the rest of us, so I wondered…’
‘I’ll have a quick shower then come right up,’ Daisy promised. ‘You get off to work.’
At least it would stop her thinking about the job she’d so recently left.
And about the other life-altering decision she’d made. The one which had prompted the resignation.
But as she showered, her mind wasn’t on either her job or the hysterical nanny but on Ingrid’s charges, the twin boys, Shaun and Ewan.
She blotted water from her body with a towel, hoping someone had had the forethought to move them away from the scene of the drama, while her heart ached as she considered the upheaval Ingrid’s departure would mean in their young lives.
The only reason she knew Ingrid—and the twins—reasonably well was because she’d often accompanied the threesome to a nearby park for the sheer joy of seeing the two children running, laughing, fighting and playing.
Surrogate children, she knew, but all she’d thought to have in her life until recently—when she’d made the momentous but still rational decision to stop working nights, stabilise her life and have a child of her own.
The thought, though she’d now had many weeks while she’d finished up at the radio station, to get used to it, still caused her stomach to cramp with a swirly cocktail of anxiety and excitement, so she had to blank it out—deliberately forcing her attention onto the plight of the twins. How would they react to the departure of their nanny at a time when both their parents were away?
Pulling on the first clothes that came to hand, a pair of calf-length white denim pants and an over-large, vivid pink lightweight Indian cotton shirt, she paused only long enough to drag a brush through her mass of unruly black hair—not that it made much difference what she did to it, it always sprang back to its wild and untamed ways within minutes.
She had to stop Ingrid leaving—it was the only answer.
As if it had known she’d need it, the lift was on her floor—the second—and she stepped in and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The doors opened into a foyer that only served the penthouse and Gabi, perhaps hearing the ping of the lift’s arrival, was at the door to greet her.
The background noise was such that speech was impossible, so Gabi made do with grabbing Daisy’s hand and dragging her into the big apartment.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, above the din. ‘Good luck.’
Daisy watched her dash away, then shut her eyes for a moment, gathering strength to wade into the fray.
‘Hello!’ she called, because it seemed slightly rude to walk in totally unannounced.
No one answered, so she followed the noise, bypassing a room where Ingrid was flinging clothes into a suitcase and muttering Swedish imprecations and on to the next room, the twins’ domain.
It had been set up for two separate functions, the first part being an open playroom, then, through an arch hung with colourful mobiles and small soft toys on bright ribbons, a smaller sleeping area.
In the middle of the first area, sitting on a very small chair at a very small table, was a very large man.
Daisy took in a shock of dark hair, straighter but almost as unruly as her own mop, with a few random streaks of grey already running through it. But apart from that, and his size, she didn’t notice much, her attention diverted by the sight of the twins, both of whom, though now close to three years old, were throwing textbook two-year-old tantrums. The small bodies were face down on the floor, legs and arms flailing, red faces awash with tears while roars of disapproval erupted from their tiny throats.
The big man turned towards her.
‘I tried placating them and when that didn’t work I decided to ignore them,’ he said, turning towards Daisy so she saw his face properly for the first time. It was an amiable face, though presently marred by a concerned frown, but she couldn’t see any anger in the hazel eyes which, even in these circumstances, appeared to hold the hint of a smile. ‘I presume you’re Daisy.’
‘Ignoring them doesn’t seem to be working either,’ Daisy pointed out, but he didn’t seem perturbed by her criticism.
She sat down on the floor and lifted the closest of the screaming children on to her lap. It was Shaun, though if anyone had asked her how she knew she couldn’t have explained.
‘Hush, little one,’ she murmured, rocking him in her arms and edging closer so she could touch Ewan at the same time. ‘You’re upsetting Ewan with your crying. Look at him! See how unhappy he is. And look at Uncle Julian, sitting on your chair. Doesn’t he look silly? Would you like to sit with him while I give Ewan a cuddle?’
She was talking to calm and soothe him, nothing more, her voice low and soft so he had to quieten to hear it. The suggestion that he sit with Uncle Julian didn’t go down well, causing two small but chubby arms to tighten around her neck.
‘OK, so you stay on my knee but make room for Ewan,’ she suggested, settling Shaun on one knee and lifting the other little boy off the floor.
His tantrum had subsided into a series of sobs and hiccups, and within seconds the pair were kicking each other and getting bits of Daisy as they did so.
‘That’s enough now,’ Daisy said firmly, then still holding them against her body, she said, ‘Stop crying and tell me what’s the matter.’
‘Wrong question,’ the big man murmured.
As if she needed telling when both children were wailing again, though this time there were stifled attempts to explain.
‘Hush up, I can’t think while you’re being so noisy.’
She jiggled them up and down as best she could, glad they weren’t triplets, then as the wails weakened to sniffles and heart-wrenching sobs she said, ‘What if you two play quietly in here and I’ll go and have a talk to Ingrid?’
‘Good luck!’ The dryly uttered words whispered through the air, while the twins snuggled closer to Daisy as if their places in her lap were the only safe haven in an increasingly disturbing world.
‘I can’t talk to her while I’m sitting here,’ she said, easing first Shaun, and then Ewan, onto the carpet before crawling over to pull a big plastic garage towards them. ‘Here, we can play with this. Uncle Julian can get some more cars off the shelves.’
She directed the words towards the man, hoping he’d hear the command in her voice and do something more than provide a running commentary on the situation.
He rose to his feet with surprising grace, given his size and his starting point on the miniature chair, and crossed to the open shelves that lined the wall, selecting small cars and trucks with deliberate concentration.
Uncle Julian! The twins had talked of no one else when they and Madeleine had returned from a holiday with their uncle. He’d been living and working in London, and some time ago, when Ingrid had suffered a severe injury to her leg, Madeleine had insisted on flying the young woman home to Stockholm to convalesce while she and the twins had stayed with Julian in London.
Now Uncle Julian was here.
Right here, in fact, kneeling beside her and placing cars on various levels of the garage, making zooming noises as he spun them down ramps and enticing the twins into joining the game.
This close he was even larger than he’d seemed on the chair—not an overweight kind of large, just there somehow. Taking up more room than normal human beings, and in some strange manner consuming more than his share of available air, so she felt slightly breathless.
‘Julian Austin,’ he said, formally introducing himself while still zooming cars around the garage.
‘Daisy Rutherford,’ Daisy responded, studying the man’s face—dark eyebrows dominating a wide brow, a strong nose, just sufficiently out of kilter to be interesting and lips neither thick nor thin but wide enough to give the impression he was always on the verge of smiling. ‘Do you know what’s upset Ingrid?’
The smile thing happened again, lips twisting so it was rueful rather than amused, and he looked directly at her, revealing eyes the colour of the deep water at the end of the pier at the beach where she’d holidayed as a child. A mix of blue and green with glints of the gold where sunlight sparkled—not that eyes could look like the ocean.
‘I think it was me asking her if she’d like to have my baby,’ he said, little lines fanning out around the mesmerising eyes as the rueful smile widened and actually lit what looked suspiciously like a twinkle in the colour-changing depths.
‘Oh, really?’ Daisy scoffed, certain he was joking. ‘Silly girl! You’d have thought she’d have jumped at the chance.’
Julian Austin nodded solemnly and, with the smile and twinkle gone, Daisy realised the man was serious.
‘You are joking?’ she demanded, unable to believe her instinct.
He looked surprised and shrugged as if he didn’t understand her question.
‘Why would I be?’
He wasn’t joking.
‘Because you don’t just walk into someone’s house and ask the nanny to have your baby? It’s—it’s…’
She couldn’t think of the word but his response certainly wasn’t the expression she was looking for.
‘Not done?’ her companion queried quietly. ‘But it’s a sensible arrangement and I thought she knew.’
Daisy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then cautiously opened them again to check she hadn’t slid into a parallel universe.
She hadn’t, but breathing deeply had obviously got her brain working again.
‘You’ve known her a while? You’ve been courting her long-distance?’ She put her assumptions into words. ‘Perhaps you should have proposed more romantically. You know, the “I love you and want to marry you” approach. It’s less abrupt and just a tad more romantic than “I want you to have my baby”.’
The big man shifted, no doubt because kneeling had become uncomfortable. He shuffled until he was sitting, legs stretched away from Daisy although the rest of him was still close.
‘But I don’t. Love her, that is. I mean, we barely know each other. I’ve only been here two days, so how could I possibly love her? And that’s granting such a concept as romantic love exists outside commercial advertising, which I doubt. Not once a person is over the hormonal upheaval of adolescence anyway. But Madeleine had told me Ingrid wanted to marry a doctor, and I’m a doctor, so it seemed about right. And from the way Madeleine spoke, I thought she’d already suggested it to Ingrid and had sorted out the finer details so, of course, when I saw how good she was with the twins the words just popped out.’
‘Of course,’ Daisy echoed weakly. ‘You say Madeleine had sorted it out?’ This was even more unbelievable, as Madeleine usually flitted through life from one terribly important social engagement to the next, upkeep visits to the beauty parlour and her favourite hair-dresser squeezed in between.
Daisy wouldn’t have put her top of a list of people to arrange someone else’s marriage.
Not even halfway down!
However, now wasn’t the time to be criticising Madeleine’s lifestyle or her ability as a marriage broker. Neither was there time to point out to Julian his gross insensitivity—not if she wanted to stop Ingrid’s departure. Shaking her head in disbelief, Daisy stood up, and headed for Ingrid’s bedroom.
‘Ingrid!’ She tapped on the door although it was open, and watched the lovely blonde ignore the intrusion as she snapped shut the last clasp on her suitcase. ‘May I come in?’
Ingrid shrugged as if the matter was sublimely immaterial to her.
‘Ingrid, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. We’ll sort it out. You can’t go off and leave the twins like this.’
‘I’m going,’ Ingrid announced, shifting one case to the floor then proceeding to hurl small personal items into the one still on the bed. ‘Madeleine has betrayed me.’
‘Madeleine? I thought it was Julian who upset you.’
Ingrid spun towards Daisy, her eyes flaring with anger.
‘He, too!’ she growled. ‘But it is Madeleine who betrayed me, who thought to make me breeding cow. I will not mind her children.’
Breeding cow? Gabi had been right about the animal references.
‘We say brood mare—horses, not cows.’ Daisy made the correction automatically, as part of their time together in the park had always included an incidental English lesson. ‘What did Madeleine do?’
‘Told her brother I have his baby—breeding mare, see?’
Daisy was sorry she’d asked. Far from providing any rational explanation, Ingrid’s replies were confusing the issue.
‘You must have got it wrong,’ Daisy said firmly, although Julian had said much the same thing—or had implied it when he’d said he’d asked Ingrid to have his baby.
But surely—
‘Anyway, I want to go. I told Madeleine I wanted to go. I can earn good money in Japan, being a model hostess in fancy restaurant. My friends already do this.’
Daisy remembered hearing something about this idea—remembered Madeleine being horrified after Ingrid had been approached in a shopping centre by someone who, in Madeleine’s eyes, was little more than a white-slave trader. Gabi and Alana had tried to reassure Madeleine but apparently she’d not believed them and had dreamed up this idea of marrying Ingrid off to her brother. No doubt so she wouldn’t have to train another nanny!
‘But it’s a strange country, with another language to learn, and it’s very expensive to live there.’
Daisy almost smiled as she added this last bit of information, certain it would sway the other woman. Ingrid was very careful about money.
‘The owners of restaurant have flat and I can give English lessons as well to make more money.’
This time Daisy did smile, but swallowed it quickly in case Ingrid saw and was offended. More offended.
‘But what about the twins? They’ll be devastated if you leave, especially now with Madeleine away. Couldn’t you stay until she and Graham come back? It’s only four weeks.’
Ingrid shook her head, but at least had the grace to look embarrassed about letting down the couple who had been very good to her.
‘The job is for now, not in four weeks,’ she muttered, and Daisy’s sympathy turned to anger.
‘You did this deliberately. You waited until Madeleine was gone so she wouldn’t try to talk you out of it. It had nothing to do with Julian.’
Ingrid turned fierce blue eyes on her.
‘It did. I would have stayed—got another job in Japan later.’
But the eyes wavered, not quite meeting Daisy’s, leaving Daisy to suspect her assumptions were correct. Not that she’d tell Julian Austin. As long as he believed he was guilty of chasing Ingrid away, he’d be more diligent in the care of his nephews.
‘This is my address for Madeleine to send the money she will owe me.’
Ingrid shoved a piece of paper into Daisy’s hand, then gathered up some documents, including what looked suspiciously like an airline ticket, from the bed. She tucked these into her handbag and slung its strap over her shoulder, then lifted both her cases and walked out of the bedroom.
‘Great!’ Daisy muttered to herself, but she followed Ingrid out, then hurried ahead of her to open the front door.
‘Shouldn’t you at least say goodbye to the twins?’ she said, as Ingrid dropped her cases in the foyer and summoned the lift.
For the first time Ingrid’s composure cracked, and tears pooled in her eyes.
‘It would make me too sad,’ she said. ‘They were like my children, but they were not my children. It is not good, being nanny.’
Daisy understood. She hugged the now quietly weeping young woman and wished her luck, helped her carry her cases into the lift, then watched the doors close.
‘Well, that was helpful!’
She turned to see Julian watching from the door of the apartment.
‘She had her plane ticket—nothing was going to stop her going,’ Daisy told him.
‘And a cab waiting downstairs. The cabbie just phoned up from the lobby.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, making it even more untidy than it had been. ‘She was going anyway?’
So much for using guilt to ensure he took good care of the twins!
‘Apparently,’ Daisy agreed, but she had no intention of letting him off the hook too easily. ‘Though you definitely precipitated the crisis. Why on earth would you ask a woman you barely know to have your baby?’
Shaun’s arrival with a demand that Uncle Julian return to the playroom diverted the man’s attention, but as he walked away, slightly bent so he could hold his small nephew’s hand, he glanced back and said, ‘Because I really need at least one child.’ He lifted Shaun into his arms and settled him on his hip then turned to add, ‘Two or three would probably be better but as it’s hard to produce twins or triplets on demand, I’d be happy to start with one.’
He continued towards the playroom so Daisy was forced to follow if she wanted to sort out this bizarre situation.
‘It’s easier for women who decide they want a family,’ he continued, as if they were discussing the weather, or politics, or religion—a normal conversation! ‘Because they actually carry the child, so all they have to do, should they decide they want a baby, is either find a man to impregnate them or find a sperm donor and do the deed in a less physical fashion.’
Definitely a parallel universe, Daisy decided. And to think she’d always thought science fiction shows totally unbelievable. They were back in the playroom now, Julian squatting on the floor with the two boys, playing cars, but continuing what must, to him, seem a perfectly logical discussion.
Why else would he be continuing?
‘But a man needs a woman willing to do the actual carrying of the child, and if possible the early nurturing. I also believe a child is better off with two parents, so I thought marriage…’ He turned his head towards Daisy, perhaps to make sure she was listening, then added, ‘To make things legal and comfortable for the children, but marriage as a partnership of mutual convenience for the parents. I’m not too repulsive, I’m clean living, a non-smoker, I enjoy an occasional beer or glass of wine but I’m not so desperate I couldn’t give that up if my partner objected, and I make a good living, or I should do once I’m established in the practice I’m buying. In some circles I’m what might be considered a good catch.’
He removed a car Ewan was trying to wedge into his mouth and kept talking, as if anxious to convince Daisy he wasn’t mad.
So far he wasn’t doing too well!
‘It’s the practice, you see. Male obstetricians have never had a baby, most orthopods have never had a knee replacement, neurosurgeons don’t have to have had a brain tumour—’
‘OK, I get the picture—you don’t have to have experienced the problem to be able to treat it. But where are you going with this?’
‘Just that it’s different for paediatricians, and—’
‘You’re a paediatrician?’
This time he ignored Daisy’s interruption.
‘It’s all very well telling people how they should bring up their children, and what they should and shouldn’t do, but at some stage they invariably ask if I have any. And when I say no, their eyes take on a look of something very like contempt and I can see they immediately discount everything I’ve said to them. It’s such a waste because I know I’m right about a lot of the things I tell them but, more often than not, they won’t even give it a try because what would I know?’
Small glimmers of light began to flicker in the morass of confusion in Daisy’s mind.
‘What do you know?’ she asked.
‘Quite a lot,’ he replied firmly, still with ninety per cent of his concentration on the car game and the twins. ‘I’ve worked at some of the top children’s hospitals all around the world, but have also done a lot of work with children with disabilities and with children who have behavioural problems—do you know anything about behaviour modification?’
‘Just a smidgen,’ Daisy said, and actually saw him start. His head swivelled towards her, the green-blue eyes revealing surprise and something else—embarrassment?
‘Daisy Rutherford! I heard you say your name and it just didn’t register.’ He stood up and held out his hand and she took it automatically. ‘I do apologise,’ he added humbly. ‘I had no idea. Typical of Madeleine not to tell me you lived in the building. I thought your paper on rewards and punishment was excellent. We’ve been going down the rewards and anti-negativity path for too long. There is a place for punishment but, as you pointed out, it has to be appropriate, non-abusive and tailored to fit the crime.’
‘I’m sure I didn’t use the word “crime”,’ Daisy protested, wondering why her hand was still resting in his grasp—and why she wasn’t removing it.
Because it felt warm there—and safe somehow, though that was a ridiculous concept. She slid it away from his and tucked it firmly into one pocket so it wouldn’t stray.
Pockets were safe!
‘I’m sure you didn’t. You’re far too professional.’ Julian beamed down at her. ‘I always look out for your papers. I don’t suppose you’d like to have my baby?’
It was a joke and Daisy knew it, but she did want a baby—she had already made that decision—and this man was obviously intelligent, he looked healthy, the twins were examples of good family genes…
‘Actually, I might,’ she said, and saw the shock of his reaction register on his face. Eager to explain, she rushed on. ‘Well, I’ve just left work so I could have a child, but apart from making myself physically available—’
It wasn’t until the words were out that she realised how they’d sounded. She clapped her hands to her cheeks to cool the rush of heat.
‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ she gabbled. ‘I mean I stopped working nights so—this is getting worse, isn’t it?’
She looked desperately up at Julian, who, while undoubtedly bemused, was smiling kindly at her. Rather in the way he must smile at small but muddled patients.
‘Take a deep breath and try again,’ he suggested.
Daisy shook her head.
‘No, thanks. I’ve made a big enough fool of myself already. I’ll just head back down to my flat and die of mortification.’
‘Don’t you dare!’
From kindly to authoritative in one breath!
‘Die of mortification?’ she teased, smiling to ease her own tension. ‘I probably won’t. I’ve been mortified by experts and survived.’
‘I don’t mean that!’ Julian dismissed her chatter with a wave of his large hand. ‘Don’t you dare leave me is what I meant. With the twins. How can I cope? What am I supposed to do?’
‘Look after them? Put some of your theories into practice?’ She grinned at him. ‘Think of the kudos it will give you with the parents of your patients.’
Thank heavens they were off the ‘having a baby’ subject. Hopefully, he’d be so occupied finding a new nanny, he’d forget it completely. Well, her part in it at least.
‘I might manage over the weekend…’ He paused, offering her a smile as he added, ‘With your help. But I start work Monday. What do I do then?’
‘You’ll have to contact Madeleine. She might have used an emergency nanny service before. She’ll tell you what to do.’
Julian shook his head, and for once the smile was missing, his face grave with concern.
‘I don’t want to tell her anything about it, if I can avoid it,’ he said. ‘Graham hasn’t been well—he was sick for too long with a gastric bug he picked up when he was doing a month’s voluntary surgery in the Pacific and now, though he won’t admit it, he seems to have something very like chronic fatigue. Madeleine was hoping a long break away might be the answer.’
‘Oh!’ Daisy said, immediately feeling as concerned as Julian looked. ‘And if you phoned her, she’d come back—they both would.’
Julian nodded gloomily.
‘What I need is some strategy so the twins are cared for, then Madeleine needn’t know Ingrid’s gone.’
‘What about grandparents? Do you have an available mother—or does Graham’s mother live nearby?’
‘Grandparents. Now, why didn’t I think of that? Will you watch them while I phone home?’
Daisy nodded, confident that once Julian was out of the room she’d be able to think straight. She sat down on the floor near the two boys and waited for the mental haze to clear, but instead of considering why she’d blurted out her ‘Actually, I might’ reply to Julian’s ridiculous question, she found herself studying the boys…thinking about babies.
