The Midwife's Child

‘So when’s your birthday Toby?’ Jed’s voice was hoarse and he wasn’t looking at Brooke at all. ‘What date?’

‘Twentieth of July,’ Toby said proudly. ‘I’m the next one in my class to have a birthday and I’m going to have a bouncy castle party. Mummy promised.’

‘Twentieth of July,’ Jed repeated flatly. ‘Which means you were due on the twentieth of September, which is forty weeks after the twenty-eighth of December.’

Brooke licked dry lips. ‘Jed…’

There was a long silence and the casualty officer glanced curiously from one to the other.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No.’ Jed’s tone was clipped. ‘There’s no problem.’

Brooke closed her eyes. No problem? There was an enormous problem. And she’d thought her life couldn’t get any harder?

‘Jed…’ What could she say? What could she say to him in front of their child and a strange doctor? Nothing. Her slim shoulders sagged. ‘Why don’t you come round later?’

His laugh was totally devoid of humour. ‘Oh, you can count on it, Brooke. Is your car fixed yet?’

She shook her head. ‘No. I took the bus this morning.’ Well, two buses, actually.

‘Right.’ He gave a brief nod, his expression grim. ‘I’ve got to go back to the labour ward to sort out Fiona, but bleep me when you’re ready to go home. I’ll get someone to cover for me and I’ll give you a lift.’

With that he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving her feeling shell-shocked. In the distance she saw him talking to Sean Nicholson, the A and E consultant, and wondered what he was saying. Forcing aside her own problems, she smiled at Toby. First things first. She needed to be there for her son. When he was better she’d have plenty of time to worry about his father.

* * *

‘This is your car? Really? Wow!’ Toby stared at the black sports car in admiration. ‘It’s great. Can I sit in the front?’

‘No, you may not.’ Jed gave him an amused look and Brooke wondered how he could seem so relaxed. She was a nervous wreck. But then he glanced at her and the expression in those blue eyes was glacial. He was obviously just making a big effort for Toby’s benefit. ‘I paid a quick visit to Paediatrics and they’ve lent me a booster seat so you can hop in the back, young man.’

‘Oh.’ Toby looked disappointed and then excited again as he scrambled into the back. ‘I’m glad I bumped my head.’

‘And why’s that?’ Jed strapped him in, checking that he was securely fastened.

‘Because if I hadn’t fallen I wouldn’t have come to Casualty and I wouldn’t have met you and had a ride in this car.’

‘Oh, we’d have met, sport.’ Jed straightened and his eyes burned into Brooke’s, anger and disdain clearly evident. ‘It just might have taken a bit longer.’

Brooke swallowed and slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding and limbs shaking. Had she been wrong not to tell him about Toby? Had she made a mistake? For the first time since she’d discovered that she was pregnant she experienced a flicker of doubt, but then she remembered her own childhood and the doubt vanished. No way would she ever want a child of hers to go through what she’d gone through, and if her decision made Jed angry—well, so be it.

Closing her eyes for a minute, she wondered how she was going to weather this latest crisis. Right decision or not, Jed Matthews was a formidable adversary.

By the time Jed pulled up outside the cottage Toby was sound asleep, and he scooped the little boy into his arms and carried him upstairs.

‘Where does he sleep?’

‘On a mattress in my room at the moment,’ Brooke muttered, shrugging out of her coat and draping it over the banister. ‘It’s his room that has the leak.’

‘Right.’

‘No, Jed.’ Brooke put a hand on his arm, feeling the solid muscle under her fingers. ‘I need him close by. I don’t want him upstairs.’

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes still cold. ‘Brooke, he wasn’t knocked out. Sean Nicholson looked at him and reckoned he was fine. I’ll give him a quick check over and we’ll leave the doors open. We’ll hear him if he wakes.’

Brooke swallowed back the lump in her throat. ‘I want to be near him…’

Jed’s face darkened. ‘And I want a conversation without an audience. We have some serious talking to do.’