A Son for John

Book 4: Medical Romances

by Gill Sanderson

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Medical Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

It is a shock for John Cord, newly appointed Specialist Registrar in Obstetrics and Gynaecology, when he finds that the ward sister he must work closely with is his ex-girlfriend Eleanor. Refusing John?s offer of marriage, Eleanor ran away to New Zealand six years previously when she found she was carrying his child, determined to be independent. She only asked that he never tried to get in touch. John finds an unexpected joy at his newly discovered son, but will Eleanor take the risk of restarting what didn?t work out before?

Release date: December 3, 2013

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 161

Sample

Chapter One

There was the quiet but throaty snarl of exhaust pipes as the bright red Jaguar convertible turned into the entrance and accelerated up the drive. The early September sunshine was warm, and the top was down. Two nurses turned to look, and Dr John Cord caught their admiring glances as they looked at the lovingly polished car. He admired it himself when he climbed into it every morning.

It wasn’t new, of course, it was two years old, but had been well looked after. John didn’t spend much on himself; he didn’t really have time. He had no wife, no house, no family. All he did was work, and occasionally tinker with cars. So this was his bit of self-indulgence. His celebratory present to himself.

It felt good to be starting a new job. He was now Specialist Registrar in Obstetrics and Gynaecology at the New Moors Hospital. Ahead of him, at the end of the drive, he could see the new buildings, outlined white against the darker Pennine moors behind.

The hospital had been built with taste, on the outskirts of the little town of Howe. It was a state-of-the-art hospital with state-of-the-art facilities, servicing the collection of small moors towns nearby. There would be lots of work in outlying clinics.

He had never been here before, even though he had spent the last five years in Sheffield, thirty miles to the south. He had never regretted leaving London when he’d finished his house year. There was space here in the North. He could find open roads for the car. He could try to forget what had happened in the South.

There was a car-parking space already marked with his name – he was impressed by the efficiency. First he pulled up the top on the car, then walked into the hall and main reception area of the hospital.

It was a typical hall and it excited him as all hospital halls tended to do. A hospital hall was like the world in miniature.

There were so many different people – some just wandering, some with a sense of purpose. There were visitors, patients in pyjamas sneaking out for a smoke, nurses, orderlies, doctors. There was a bank, a paper shop, a flower shop, a stall set up to sell some kind of ticket – ‘our very own film premiere’. It hinted at the vast infrastructure of every hospital.

This was his first day, and his sister-in-law Anna had suggested that he dress smartly to make a bit of an impression so he was wearing what he thought of as his interview suit. It was dark and looked expensive, and he wore it with a white shirt and a college tie.

A receptionist directed him to the office of the head of his new firm, the consultant in Obs and Gynae, Cedric Lands.

Cedric was a consultant of the old school. He came from behind his desk to shake hands. ‘So pleased to meet you again, Dr Cord. I’m sure you will be happy here. Your office is next door. I’ll show you that and then we’ll have a look round and I’ll introduce you to a few people. Take a couple of days to get to know the place and then we’ll talk about your duties.’

‘I’m eager to start work as quickly as possible.’

‘Good, good, good. I’m relying on you to bring a breath of fresh air to the department.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps we need younger men.’ John hid a grin. Cedric had a deserved international reputation, but he had not shaken off the attitudes of forty years ago. He didn’t care for first names, the new democracy on the wards. He was wearing a three-piece suit and a shirt with a stiff collar. John thought that was going too far.

He had never seen a white coat as starched as the one Cedric put on. He was given one himself and the two men set off to the wing where they would work.

John had seen round the section quickly when he’d come for his interview. Now he had a more detailed inspection.

There was the delivery suite, with the normal beds, the pool room, the high-dependency area, the theatre, and the recovery room. There were the high- and low-dependency wards. Downstairs were the clinics, the ultrasound, and X-ray units.

He was introduced to a variety of people whom he would later get to know and work with. He smiled and tried to remember all their names.

‘… And this is Dr Harris, a senior house officer who joined us recently.’ John shook hands with the personable young man. He seemed a little worried, and after a couple of courteous remarks said, ‘Glad I bumped into you, sir. Just a little problem with Lucy Liskeard. You remember, the young primigravida. She’s nearly forty-two weeks gone now and she’s getting very depressed. Since there’s an increased rate of perinatal mortality after this time I wonder if we ought to –?’

‘Have you tried sweeping the membranes?’

This was a simple technique which sometimes bought on labour and involved stimulating the membrane around the foetus by touching it with a finger.

‘I’ve tried that, sir.’

Cedric looked thoughtful. Then he said, ‘You want to induce. Is the Bishop’s score over seven?’

‘Well over seven.’

The Bishop’s score was a means of assessing the readiness for giving birth by giving points to the dilation and length of the cervix, its station, position, and consistency.

‘Good. In that case, insert two milligrams of prostaglandin gel. If there is no activity after six hours, then buzz me, but I am confident that labour will have started by then.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll see to that at once.’

John smiled to himself. It was a clear, incisive answer, helpful and to the point. He was impressed, but it was what he would have expected.

They looked into the low-dependency postnatal ward, and he was introduced to the sister, who had a couple of questions. Again there was an expert answer.

The section was locked, as all Obs and Gynae wards were.

‘I hate this,’ Cedric said as he tapped in the code to open the door. ‘I realise the need, of course. We had an … incident in my old hospital where a baby was stolen. But the idea of locking a hospital ward I find abhorrent.’

‘It’s not always fun, moving with the times,’ John agreed.

They stepped inside and Cedric’s pager buzzed. He took it from his waistcoat pocket and frowned. ‘Not work, a domestic call. My dear wife will be experiencing a crisis with the decorators. Dr Cord, we are expected. While I phone her why don’t you walk down to Sister’s office? She makes the best coffee in the hospital. I’ll join you there.’

John walked to the door indicated and tapped on it. A voice called for him to come in. Vaguely he thought he recognised it, but he wasn’t sure from where. He opened the door. It was the usual sister’s office, too small, too cluttered, but this one smelling wonderfully of coffee. At the desk was a blue-clad figure, half-turned away, a telephone held to her ear.

There was that achingly familiar line running from hip to shoulder. The hair was short, a golden cap. He was speechless – felt disbelief, excitement, apprehension.

The figure put the phone down and turned to meet him. ‘Hello, John,’ Eleanor Roberts said.

There was nothing he could say. He felt for a chair, sagged into it. It was over six years since they had last met. Her face had changed a little, having lost the slight plumpness of adolescence. By her eyes were slight lines, brought on by maturity or perhaps pain. Her eyes themselves were as blue as ever. She had been a very good-looking girl. Now she was a classically beautiful woman.

So far she hadn’t smiled. Still with her serene face, she stood and offered her hand. ‘I am Sister on this ward most of the daytime week,’ she told him.

He managed to stand to shake hands, then collapsed into the chair again. He’d thought of Eleanor often through the years. He’d thought of her a lot, wondered how she was managing, what she was doing, if the baby had been … he didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. He had felt some anger.

Then he’d forced himself to forget her. She’d made her decision – he would live with it.

Seeing her again, it was a vast shock. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him, but what that emotion was he couldn’t yet tell. For the moment he was having difficulty in coping with it.

‘Mr Lands had to make a phone call,’ he mumbled. ‘He’s showing me round … Eleanor, I don’t know what to say.’

She remained serene. ‘I’m called Ellie now, no one calls me Eleanor. I’ve followed your career with interest, John. I’ve heard about you here and there. I knew you’d make a good doctor. But I was surprised when Cedric said you were coming here. I didn’t want to meet you again. I felt that fate had played me a dirty trick.’

‘You’ve had time to get used to the idea,’ he muttered. ‘I haven’t. I can’t take it in.’

‘I’m sure you will in time. You’ve done well for one so young, haven’t you? I remember how much you loved Obs and Gynae.’

‘I still love it. Eleanor, are we having this conversation?’

‘It’s Ellie,’ she corrected him. ‘I was Eleanor in another life. Just one thing before Cedric comes. Something we agreed. Remember, we haven’t met before. If people know we’ve met before they might gossip.’

‘The past is dead, to be forgotten?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course it is. We’re going to have to work together. I’m sure you’ll agree that to be strangers is best.’

When he didn’t answer at once, she looked at him sharply. ‘It is best,’ she said.

‘I was just remembering,’ he said slowly. ‘Things I’ve forced to the back of my mind are coming back, all too vividly.’

‘Look, we can go over old times later if you have to. Just tell me now you’re not going to say that we’ve met before.’

‘If that’s what you want.’ He didn’t know why he was so reluctant.

She moved in exasperation. ‘It should be what you want, too.’ When she moved he saw more of the medical clutter on her desk. The usual files, forms, odd instruments. And in the middle of it was a picture of a boy. A young boy with a big smile. He saw dark hair, thick eyebrows, and there was something about the line of the jaw that he recognised. Then he knew. He shaved that jawline every morning. He felt a sudden aching disbelief. He had a child! ‘Is that my son?’ he asked.

‘No, John! He’s my son. As far as I know, you have no child.’ He wouldn’t have believed it possible that she could speak with such intensity, such venom.

‘Eleanor – Ellie,’ he said placatingly, ‘we’ve just got to talk. Not here, I know, but there are things that we have to sort out.’

She thought a minute. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Are you free after work?’

There was nothing he couldn’t put off.

‘There’s a pub called The Grapes in a village called North Blyton about ten miles from here, off the main road.’

‘I saw a sign to North Blyton as I came here.’

‘Right. I’ll meet you there at six. Just for half an hour.’

Someone knocked politely. Cedric peered round the door. ‘Ah, so you’ve introduced yourself to Sister. That’s good. I don’t know what I would do without her. Soon you, too, will find her indispensable. Could you show us round, Sister? If it is convenient?’

North Blyton was three miles off the main road, an attractive little village of gritstone cottages, sheltered in a fold of the moors. It was September and, although it had been warm, the day was now losing its brightness.

Deliberately, he arrived early. He thought he needed time to relax, to consider what was to come. After meeting Eleanor – Ellie now – the day had been more than full. He had concentrated on his job, forcing personal concerns aside until he had the time to deal with them. But it had been hard.

The Grapes was quiet, a pleasant building with a garden to one side. He bought himself a shandy, then sat at a wooden table outside, and took off his jacket and tie. A little time to think.

He knew he had been promoted early, and was looking forward to working with Cedric. He knew he was good at his job, and always he had approached it with a single-minded devotion. He wanted to do that here, and now he was faced with an unexpected personal problem.

Problem? Could he think of Ellie as a problem? And then there was the fact that he apparently had a son. This morning he had come into work without a care in the world. Now, he had – a son? Not according to Ellie. He was to have nothing to do with the boy. His whirling brain just couldn’t cope.

From where he was sitting he could see the car park. A new blue car drew into it and parked by his Jaguar. Ellie stepped out. He was puzzled, remembering her as not being much interested in cars. And sisters weren’t all that well paid, not really enough to afford a new top-of-the range model like this.

She raised an arm to indicate that she had seen him, and walked towards his table. He stood as she approached. She was in black trousers and a sweater, a casual outfit but one which suited her colouring. Strange emotions tore through him – he just couldn’t understand them.

For a moment they stood facing each other silently, then she sat opposite him. Her hands rested on the table. ‘You’re not wearing a wedding ring,’ he blurted out.

‘Because I’m not married. Are you going to get me a drink, John? I’d like a lemon and lime.’

She was calm, self-assured, and it only made him more unsure of himself. That wasn’t like him!’

‘Yes … yes, of course. Would you like a sandwich or something? I don’t know what you’re doing after you leave here. I …’

‘Sandwiches are good here. I’d like a ham on granary, please, John.’

‘Be right back.’ Going to the bar, it gave him a small breathing space. Again he thought that it wasn’t like him. He was supposed to be imperturbable, smiling, everyone’s friend. He’d taken lots of nurses – and doctors – to pubs for a drink.

But meeting Ellie, it had thrown him.

The sandwiches would be handmade and take time. The landlord had to slice ham and cut bread freshly. John took Ellie’s drink out. Her back was half turned to him and he could see again that heart-aching line of her body and her face. She was beautiful, but it was more than that, she … 

‘Sandwiches are coming,’ he said, ‘but here’s your drink.’

He sat and then jumped back to his feet. ‘Meeting you drove it right out of my mind! I should phone Anna, tell her I’ll be late.’

Ellie looked at him blank-faced. ‘Anna? Are you married, then?’ She seemed to take the news coolly, but he didn’t really know how she felt. He rushed to explain. ‘No, no, Anna is my sister-in-law. My brother’s wife. As it was my first day at work she promised to cook tea for me. She lives close to here, a place called Ruston. I stay there a lot – in fact, I’ve got a big caravan in their garden where I live and …’ He stopped when he saw her smiling. ‘What’s funny?’

‘You’re babbling,’ she said. ‘All right, you’re not married. Go and phone to say you’ll be late.’

Anna was well used to him coming in late – medical emergencies were so common that she half expected it. ‘No bother, John, it’s only a casserole. I’ll save you some. See you when I see you.’

He didn’t tell her where he was, what he was doing.

Another small chance to pull himself together. To save time later he bought another couple of drinks, more lemon and lime for her, a glass of red wine for himself. He thought he needed it. But he would only have one.

He sat opposite her again, took a deep breath, and readied himself for a difficult conversation. She sat calm, silent, waiting for him to speak first. ‘Ellie,’ he said, ‘I’ve spent all afternoon …’

The sandwiches arrived. He could see her grinning at his confusion as a young girl courteously placed plates in front of them both. No, he didn’t want mustard, yes, please leave the pickle, no, they were all right for drinks at the moment. When the girl had gone John breathed a long sigh of relief.

Ellie picked up her sandwich, bit into it. ‘If this is going to be a long conversation I’ll need to get my blood sugar up.’

Memory flashed back. ‘That was nearly the first thing you ever. . .