Czytaj książkę: «The Good Father»

CHAPTER ONE

SOME days it just didn’t pay to get up, Maddie decided as she sat in the office of the neonatal intensive care unit of the Belfield Infirmary, feeling her confidence evaporate with every passing second. Some days it would have been better if she’d simply pulled the duvet back over her head and forgotten all about trying to get a job, and today was undoubtedly turning out to be one of those days.

‘It’ll be a breeze,’ her cousin Nell had said when she’d told her she’d got an interview. ‘A little typing, some filing, answering the phone… You can do that, Maddie, no sweat.’

Dr Washington didn’t seem to think so. In fact, judging by the way the specialist registrar’s frown had deepened as he’d read through her application form, she’d be better off just leaving now and putting them both out of their misery.

‘Miss Bryce,’ he said at last, putting down her application form and sitting back in his seat, his brown eyes puzzled. ‘Can I ask why you’ve applied for this job?’

Because Charlie and Susie like to eat. Because my cousin Nell thought the job would be perfect for me but now I think she needs her head examined.

‘Well, I’ve always enjoyed working with people,’ she said, all perkily upbeat and trying very hard to look as though a six-month contract to cover the maternity leave of the Belfield’s NICU secretary was the job she’d been secretly dreaming of since she’d been in kindergarten. ‘The position sounded interesting—challenging—and I have secretarial certificates—’

‘One in typing and one in computer studies, both gained at night school.’ Dr Washington nodded. ‘But, Miss Bryce, you’re also a fully qualified nursing sister. A sister who was the ward manager in charge of the nursing staff of the neonatal intensive care unit of the Hillhead General for four years. So why in the world is somebody with your qualifications and experience applying for a secretarial post?’

On days like this she asked herself the same question. On really bad days, when she was trying to work out how she was going to be able to afford new shoes for Susie and new trousers for Charlie, she found herself wondering if this was all there was, if this was how it was always going to be, but she also knew that she didn’t—and never would—regret her decision.

‘I gave up nursing because I have children to look after,’ she said. ‘The hours a nurse has to work—the constantly changing shifts—it’s not a viable option for me.’

‘We have crèche facilities at the Belfield Infirmary.’

‘Charlie is eight and Susie is fourteen. They’re much too old for a crèche.’

The specialist registrar glanced down at her application form, then up at her again. ‘Your daughter is fourteen? But…’ He coloured slightly. ‘It says here on your application form that you’re twenty-nine.’

‘The children aren’t mine. My sister…’ Maddie’s throat closed as it always did when she had to talk about Amy. ‘My sister and her husband John were killed in a car crash two years ago. John’s parents…’ We’d like to help, Maddie, we really would, but we’re much too old to look after children, and with Charlie the way he is…‘They couldn’t look after Charlie and Susie, and my parents are dead, so…’

‘I see,’ Dr Washington said gently. ‘It can’t have been easy for you—I’m sure it isn’t easy now—but I’m afraid my neonatologist, Mr Dalgleish, expects the very highest standards from his staff, and though you have secretarial qualifications you don’t actually have any experience, do you?’

‘I gained a highly commended in my computer studies, and a merit in my typing,’ she said, trying and failing to keep the desperation from her voice. ‘I’m a fast learner. I work well under pressure—’

‘Miss Bryce, I’m not disputing your enthusiasm or your willingness to work hard,’ the specialist registrar interrupted awkwardly. ‘In fact, I’m sure if Mr Dalgleish had been here to interview you and not been called away on an emergency he would have said the same, but we’ve had some very highly skilled and experienced secretaries applying for this post.’

She knew they had. She’d sat amongst them in the waiting room. Eight highly professional women all stylishly dressed in smart office suits while she, the last to be interviewed, had been all too horribly aware that she neither looked the part nor felt it.

‘Dr Washington—’

‘Mr Dalgleish will, of course, give your application his fullest consideration, and you should be notified in about a week if you’ve been successful.’

But don’t hold your breath.

The specialist registrar didn’t say the words—he didn’t need to. This was the third interview she’d been to in as many weeks and she couldn’t even get a job to cover somebody’s maternity leave. Well, there’d be other jobs, she told herself. Maybe they wouldn’t be as perfect as this one—close to home, and with her cousin Nell working as a sister in the neonatal intensive care unit it could almost have been like old times—but there’d be other jobs. There had to be. After not working for two years her savings were all but gone, and what little Amy had left her was almost gone now, too.

With an effort she pasted a smile to her lips. ‘Thank you for your time, Dr Washington. I appreciate it.’

‘It was my pleasure. I just wish—’ She didn’t find out what he wished because the door of the office suddenly opened and the specialist registrar got to his feet, an expression of clear relief on his face. ‘Mr Dalgleish. I was just talking about you.’

‘Saying something nice, I hope, Jonah,’ a deep male voice replied, and as Maddie turned in her seat to face the newcomer her first thought was, Nell, you lied.

‘He’s tall and dark,’ her cousin had said when she’d asked her what Gabriel Dalgleish was like. ‘Around thirty-six, I’d say, and quite good-looking in a chiselled, square-jawed sort of way. Not bad to work for. An OK sort of a neonatologist, really.’

Well, he was tall, Maddie conceded as the neonatologist walked towards her. Six feet two inches tall, she guessed, and broad-shouldered with it. He was also dark. Thick black hair, piercing grey eyes and, as Nell had said, quite good-looking. But an OK sort of neonatologist?

Nope. No way. Her cousin knew as well as she did that there were only two types of neonatologist. There were the neonatologists who supported their staff, worked with them, encouraged them, and then there were the others. The men—and it was nearly always men—who ran their departments as their own personal fiefdoms, men who radiated power and arrogance from the top of their immaculately groomed hair to the tips of their highly polished shoes. One glance at Gabriel Dalgleish was enough to tell her this man was Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun rolled into one.

Nell, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.

‘Mr Dalgleish, this is Miss Bryce,’ Dr Washington declared. ‘She’s one of the applicants for our post of departmental secretary.’

‘Given the time of day, and the fact I was planning on interviewing the candidates myself, I’d gathered that much,’ Mr Dalgleish murmured dryly, failing entirely to say hello to Maddie, and she felt her hackles rise another notch. So the neonatologist used sarcasm as a weapon, did he? Well, she hadn’t liked it when she’d been a nurse and she didn’t like it now.

‘Goodbye, Dr Washington,’ she said, bestowing the warmest of smiles on him and giving Gabriel Dalgleish the coldest of cold shoulders. ‘It was very nice meeting you.’

‘Just a minute,’ Gabriel Dalgleish said sharply as she began to walk towards the office door. ‘Why haven’t you applied to my department for a job as a nurse?’

‘Why hasn’t anybody ever taught you some manners?’

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she saw a flash of anger appear on Gabriel Dalgleish’s dark face, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t got the job, was never going to see this man again, so she could say whatever she damn well liked.

For a second there was complete silence in the office, then to her surprise a faint wash of colour appeared on Gabriel Dalgleish’s cheeks.

‘I apologise if my question seemed…a little brusque,’ he said with difficulty, ‘but I would appreciate an answer.’

Dr Washington was glancing from her to his boss in open-mouthed fascination, and for a second Maddie hesitated, but she supposed the neonatologist had apologised so the least she could do was meet him halfway.

‘As I’ve already explained to Dr Washington,’ she said evenly, ‘I have two children to look after. And before you suggest a crèche,’ she added, ‘my children are too old for one and a childminder is out of the question.’

‘That’s your only reason?’

His grey eyes were fixed on her, searching, intent. What was he getting at—what was he trying to find out? She hadn’t the faintest idea and neither, it appeared, did Dr Washington.

‘Gabriel, I think Miss Bryce has already explained—’

‘Let her answer, Jonah.’

Part of her—a very large part—longed to tell him she wouldn’t have wanted to work as a nurse in his department even if he could have arranged for her to be paid double the national nursing wage with a free car thrown in for good measure, but she’d already been quite rude enough.

‘Yes, that’s the only reason,’ she said, and for a fleeting moment an odd look appeared in Gabriel Dalgleish’s grey eyes. A look that almost seemed like triumph. But before she could say anything he’d turned away and begun sifting through the application forms on his specialist registrar’s desk.

Was that all he wanted to say? It looked as though it was, but she glanced questioningly across at Dr Washington to discover he looked as bemused as she felt.

‘Is there anything else you’d like to ask Miss Bryce?’ he said uncertainly, and Gabriel Dalgleish didn’t even turn round.

‘No, but I’d like her to wait outside for a few minutes,’ he replied.

And would it be too much of an effort for you to tell me so yourself, you big jerk?

Of course it would. He was the head honcho, the top banana. He didn’t speak directly to minions—and why the hell should she wait outside? She hadn’t got the job, couldn’t understand now why he’d even asked her to come in for an interview when he must have seen from her application form that she was totally unsuitable—but if he wanted her to wait, she’d wait. It wasn’t as though she had anything else to do, and with a brief smile at Dr Washington, she headed for the waiting room.

‘That has to be a record even for you, Gabriel,’ Jonah observed as soon as the door of his office was safely closed. ‘Managing to be very rude to a complete stranger in the space of two minutes.’

‘I’d say Miss Bryce is no slouch herself in the rudeness stakes,’ the neonatologist said dryly, and Jonah grinned.

‘What happened with the emergency call in Maternity?’

‘The baby died.’

Gabriel’s closed face didn’t invite further questioning and Jonah knew better than to probe. Instead he picked up the scattered application forms on his desk and put them in his in-tray.

‘For the record,’ he observed, ‘the next time you find yourself suddenly unavailable to interview candidates I’d appreciate it if you could reschedule. Eight women, all bar one with identical qualifications and experience….’ He grimaced. ‘Nightmare. The only way I could narrow them down was by ruling out those who seemed a bit officious, those who had irritating laughs, those—’

‘Cut to the chase, Jonah. Who would you pick?’

‘Ruth Haddon. She didn’t laugh like a hyena, didn’t make me feel five years old, has sixteen years’ secretarial experience—’

‘I want Miss Bryce.’

The specialist registrar blinked. ‘You want…? Gabriel, she’s the least qualified of all the applicants, has absolutely no experience—’

‘And in four months Lynne Howard will be emigrating with her family to New Zealand and I’ll need a skilled NICU sister to replace her as ward manager. Madison Bryce is perfect.’

Jonah opened his mouth, closed it again, and when he finally spoke it was slowly and carefully.

‘Gabriel, I hate to break this to you but Miss Bryce didn’t apply for Lynne’s job, she applied for Fiona’s. She doesn’t want to be a nurse. She has kids—’

‘I don’t care if she has a zoo,’ the neonatologist interrupted. ‘The minute I saw her application form I was on the phone to the Hillhead General, and the references they gave her were quite outstanding.’

‘Gabriel, you’re not listening to me,’ Jonah protested. ‘Madison Bryce doesn’t want to return to nursing. Her kids—they’re not ordinary kids. They’re her niece and nephew and she’s looking after them because their parents died in a car crash two years ago.’

‘Kids are kids,’ Gabriel replied dismissively. ‘Once we get her into the department, let her see what she’s been missing, I guarantee she’ll jump at the chance of stepping into Lynne’s shoes after she’s gone to New Zealand.’

‘You honestly think a woman who refuses to have her children looked after by a childminder is suddenly going to change her mind simply because she’s worked here as a medical secretary?’ Jonah exclaimed, and Gabriel threw him a look of exasperation.

‘Of course she will. Nobody in their right mind would willingly throw their career down the toilet on the strength of some ridiculous antipathy towards childminders and it’s up to us to make her see she’s making a big mistake.’

Jonah stared at him silently for a second, then shook his head. ‘You don’t have children, do you, Gabriel?’

‘You know I don’t,’ the neonatologist retorted. ‘I’m not married, and neither are you, so what’s your point?’

‘No point. Just an observation.’

‘Then it’s a stupid one. Look, trust me on this one, Jonah,’ Gabriel continued as his specialist registrar opened his mouth to argue. ‘If we can keep Miss Bryce sweet for four months, we’ll have Lynne’s replacement in the bag.’

A small smile curved Jonah’s lips. ‘You’re going to keep the woman who told you that you had no manners sweet for four months? This I have to see.’

‘Jonah…’

‘OK—OK.’ The specialist registrar held up his hands in resignation. ‘You’re the boss and if you want Madison Bryce, then Madison Bryce it is. Reading between the lines, I’d say she needs the job.’

She also looks as though she needs one, Gabriel thought with a sudden and quite unexpected qualm. How old did her application form say she was? Twenty-nine. He would have said she was older. Of course, those dark shadows under her too-large brown eyes didn’t help. Neither did the extreme whiteness of her skin, which contrasted so sharply with the riot of short curly auburn hair which framed her cheeks and forehead, but she didn’t simply look older than her twenty-nine years, she also looked tired. Tired, and harassed, and stressed.

‘I just hope my replacement doesn’t expect a social life or too many hours’ sleep,’ Fiona had said at her leaving bash, ‘because she sure as shooting won’t get either in this department.’

But that was just Fiona’s pregnancy hormones talking, he told himself. All women became irrational and emotional when they were pregnant.

But what if it hadn’t been just her hormones talking? Fiona was a highly experienced medical secretary and if she’d found the workload tough, how much more difficult was it going to be for a woman with no experience, a woman who already looked exhausted and stressed?

‘Gabriel…?’

Jonah’s eyes were fixed on him curiously and Gabriel let out a huff of impatience. Hell’s bells, it wasn’t as though secretarial work was rocket science, and as for Madison Bryce looking stressed…he would have looked stressed, too, if he’d been throwing his career away on the strength of a quite irrational prejudice. Giving her the job would make her see that her future lay in nursing and, if it also solved the question of how he was going to replace Lynne Howard in four months, it wasn’t being selfish. It was a purely practical and sensible solution for everyone.

‘Let’s go and tell Miss Bryce the good news,’ he said.

‘You want me?’ Maddie said faintly, completely convinced she must have misheard. ‘You’re offering me the job?’

‘If you want it,’ Gabriel Dalgleish replied.

Did she? This morning she had. This morning she’d thought it the answer to her prayers but that had been before she’d met him. Two minutes in his company had been more than enough to tell her he was cold, arrogant and supercilious, and she’d spent too many years as a nurse working for obnoxious neonatologists to want to repeat the experience.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Maddie. Nobody’s expecting you to bond with the guy. He’ll be your boss, you’ll be the NICU secretary, and even if he’s the boss from hell the contract will only last for six months and at the end of it you’ll not only have some money in the bank, you’ll also have something to put in those big blank spaces on application forms marked ‘Experience’.

‘Yes, I want the job,’ she said quickly. ‘When do you want me to start?’

‘Next Monday.’

Monday? She’d have to ask the school whether it would be all right for Charlie and Susie to arrive there half an hour earlier every day, and she’d have to enroll them in some after-school activities because she wouldn’t finish work until five. Susie would sulk and Charlie…Unconsciously she shook her head. She’d figure out how she was going to deal with Charlie later.

‘Monday will be fine,’ she said.

‘Why don’t I take you along to the unit, show you around?’ Gabriel suggested, heading out of the waiting room and down the corridor towards the door marked NEONATAL INTENSIVE CARE UNIT. ‘Not that there’s anything you won’t be familiar with. Though the Belfield Infirmary was built in Victorian times, we’ve managed to attract quite substantial funding over the past three years and can now offer three levels of care. Intensive Care for the most seriously ill babies, Special Care for those who need some tube-feeding, oxygen support or light therapy, and—’

‘Transitional Care to prepare the babies for going home,’ she finished for him, then bit her lip. ‘Sorry. Force of habit.’

‘Not a problem,’ the neonatologist murmured, shooting a glance at Jonah, which she didn’t understand. ‘In fact…’ He paused as his pager began to beep and, when he unhooked it from his belt, he let out a muttered oath. ‘Jonah, can you start the tour and I’ll catch up with you later?’

He was gone in an instant, and Jonah smiled ruefully at her. ‘It looks like you’re stuck with me again, Miss Bryce.’

‘I think I can stand that.’ She chuckled. ‘And, please, call me Maddie.’

‘Only if you call me Jonah. And, please, no jokes about whales, sinking ships or bringers of bad luck,’ he added. ‘Believe me, I’ve heard them all.’

‘You think a girl christened Madison is in any position to take cheap shots at your name?’ Maddie protested, and the specialist registrar laughed as he began tapping a series of numbers into the keypad on the neonatal unit door.

‘We change the security code once a month,’ he explained. ‘Fiona used to think up the combination based on birthdays and anniversaries so I guess it’s your job now. It’s a sad indictment of our society that we need a security system, but…’

What was even sadder—pathetic, really—was the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia she experienced when the door of the unit swung open. It had been two years since she’d worked in an NICU and yet it could have been yesterday. The smell of antiseptic, the overpowering heat because premature babies lost heat more quickly than full-term ones, even the cork board covered with baby photographs left by grateful parents—everything was so familiar.

‘Lynne, this is our new secretary, Maddie Bryce,’ Jonah declared, breaking into her reverie when a small, middle-aged nurse appeared. ‘Maddie, this is Lynne Howard, our ward manager, and the best nursing sister in the Belfield.’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Jonah.’ The sister laughed. ‘Good to have you on board, Maddie.’

‘Everything OK this afternoon?’ the specialist registrar asked.

‘Nice and quiet apart from Baby Ralston. We’ve just finished his obs and as Gabriel has ruled out the bradycardia being caused by a heart defect I’d say we’re looking at possible apnoea.’

‘I’ll set up a pneumogram and—’

‘You’d like a coffee.’

‘I’m getting predictable.’ Jonah sighed, and the sister grinned.

‘Nah, you’re just a caffeine addict. Maddie, would you like a coffee?’

‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘No trouble at all, and sorry about the medical jargon,’ Lynne continued as Jonah disappeared through the door marked SPECIAL CARE. ‘Bradycardia—’

‘Is an abnormal slowing of the heart rate, and apnoea is when a baby simply “forgets” to breathe. I used to be a nurse,’ Maddie added as the sister’s eyebrows rose. ‘An NICU sister to be exact, but I have children to look after, so…’

Lynne nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s the hours, isn’t it? Never knowing for certain what days you’ll be working—even what shifts. I’m actually leaving the unit myself soon,’ she continued, ushering Maddie through to her small office and switching on the kettle. ‘My husband has been offered a job in New Zealand so in four months time it’s goodbye Glasgow and hello to the land of the long white cloud.’

‘You must be really excited,’ Maddie observed, and the sister sighed as she spooned coffee into two mugs.

‘Part of me thinks, wow, what a great opportunity for my husband, our kids, but the other part…It’s going to be a real wrench leaving my friends, a job I love, but…’ She shrugged. ‘I guess family always comes first.’

Always, Maddie thought.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Lynne continued, moving a pile of files from a chair so Maddie could sit down, ‘but I’m a nurse short this afternoon. Sister Sutherland had a family problem.’

Maddie’s cheeks reddened. ‘I’m afraid I’m the problem. Nell’s my cousin,’ she explained as Lynne stared at her, confused. ‘I needed somebody to look after the kids when they came home from school and Nell knew I couldn’t get a sitter…’

‘Then you’re the Maddie. The one Nell’s always talking about—Charlie and Susie’s aunt?’

Maddie nodded and to her surprise Lynne’s face lit up with delight.

‘Nell is going to be so pleased you got the job. She’s been stressing for days about you going for an interview, but she wouldn’t tell us where the interview was. Do you want to phone her—give her the good news? There’s a phone downstairs in the communal staff room that we can use for personal calls.’

‘Thanks, but I’d rather tell her when I get home.’ When I can also ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, telling me Gabriel Dalgleish was an OK sort of a neonatologist.

Which brought her to something she very much wanted to ask Lynne, but asking a ward manager whether her boss had been born a complete dickhead or whether he’d just worked hard to become one didn’t seem like a wise move.

‘How long has Mr Dalgleish been head of the department?’ she said instead, after Lynne had made the coffee.

‘Almost three years.’

‘He seems…‘Maddie paused to choose her words carefully. ‘Very focused.’

The sister stirred her coffee for a second. ‘His aim is to make our department not just the best in Glasgow, but the best in Scotland.’

‘Ambitious,’ Maddie observed, stirring her own coffee equally deliberately. ‘What’s he like as a surgeon?’

‘I’ve lost count of the number of preemies he’s pulled back from the brink when the rest of us had given up hope, and to watch him operate is an education.’

‘That good, huh?’

‘What Gabriel doesn’t know about preemies could be written on a postage stamp.’ Lynne put down her spoon and met Maddie’s gaze. ‘He is also, without exception, the biggest, coldest, out-and-out bastard it’s ever been my misfortune to work for.’

‘Thought so,’ Maddie said, and the ward manager chuckled.

‘He’s wonderful with the babies but when it comes to interacting with people…It’s like there’s something missing. He just can’t—or won’t—see that people have feelings, needs, even homes they might occasionally want to go to. And don’t ever disagree with him. If you do—’

‘I’m mincemeat?’

‘Got it in one.’

‘Sounds like I’m in for a fun six months,’ Maddie said ruefully, and Lynne grinned.

‘Welcome to Alcatraz.’

The unit felt like a prison, too, when Gabriel eventually joined them. One minute Jonah, Lynne and the neonatal nurses were laughing and joking, and the next…Iceberg time, and the ridiculous thing was that Maddie knew it didn’t have to be like that. A happy atmosphere didn’ t necessarily mean a slack ward, but convincing Gabriel Dalgleish of that? She’d have more success convincing Nell that she’d never be thin no matter how many crazy diets she tried.

A scowl creased Maddie’s forehead. Which reminded her. She had a bone to pick with her cousin. A big one.

‘Maddie, I knew you were looking for work, and if I’d told you he was the boss from hell you would never have applied for the job,’ Nell protested, gazing longingly at the contents of the cookie jar for a second before helping herself to an apple instead. ‘Some people like him.’

‘Name one.’

‘OK, all right, nobody likes him,’ her cousin admitted, then smiled as the kitchen door opened. ‘Hey, kids, your clever auntie’s got herself a job.’

‘Does that mean I can have the trainers I want—the ones with the light-up soles?’ Susie demanded, dropping her school-bag beside the freezer.

Maddie did some quick mental calculation. ‘Yes, you can have the trainers. Cheese quiche and salad in half an hour, so you’ve time to start your homework.’

‘Homework’s boring,’ Susie muttered, but she picked up her schoolbag and trailed back out of the kitchen instead of arguing, which had to be a first.

‘How was school, Charlie?’ Maddie asked.

‘OK.’

He stood beside the kitchen table, a solemn undersized little boy with large blue eyes and pale blond hair, and she knew his day had been anything but OK, but there was no point in pushing him for information.

‘You’ve got a job,’ he said, scuffing his foot across the vinyl floor.

‘Nothing is going to change, Charlie,’ she said gently. ‘You’ll just have to go into school a little earlier, and stay on for the after-school activities until I get home from work. Apart from that, you’re not even going to know I’ve got a job.’

‘I liked knowing you were here during the day,’ he muttered, and Maddie’s heart clenched. Lord, but there were times when he looked so much like Amy it hurt.

‘Charlie—’

‘I have homework to do.’