She was challenging him and he felt the closest to alive that he had in a long time. They came from polar opposites. Both geographically and professionally. She was forging new ground surgically and he was of the belief that monitoring with minimal surgical intervention was the better method. But despite their differences, he admired her courage.
He had been an OBGYN for many years, and his conservative approach had always provided great outcomes for the mothers and the babies. Although as he walked back to his office he admitted to himself that he had not dealt with the complication of TTTS in quadruplets. As he sat down behind his desk, to stretch his legs out and read his emails before another ward round, he conceded they were on an even playing field with regard to experience. Neither had a track record that could negate the other. So neither one of them could say with any evidence that their treatment plan was better. It was purely subjective and tainted by preference.
Juliet for taking risks.
Charlie for avoiding them every day since he had taken a chance on the icy road and lost.
Juliet and a very tired Bea arrived back at their hotel late in the afternoon. Bea had enjoyed her time at the crèche and was not in a hurry to leave. Juliet suspected it was due to the fuss that Annabelle and the children had made of her. After lunch and the story, her mind had been distracted from the traumatic start to the day by the children all wanting to draw pictures on her cast and ask questions about koalas and kangaroos. She’d been the centre of attention and she’d managed that role well. When Juliet had popped up to collect her, she’d looked through the large glass window that was decorated with paper cut-outs of snowflakes to see Bea happily playing with the other children. Juliet had been convinced earlier in the day that bringing her daughter on the trip was a terrible idea, but as she’d witnessed her smiling and happily playing despite the cast the idea had left terrible territory.
A classic Georgian property, not too far from the hospital, had been restored and refurbished as an exclusive, eleven-room boutique hotel and it would be their accommodation for a day or so until Juliet could source something more practical for the two of them. Their room was toasty warm with a large bed covered in far too many oversized pillows and the softest mattress. The warmth was created by an antique radiator and the all-white decor, complete with heavy damask drapes and matching bedspread, was elegance in abundance. She felt very spoilt as the hospital board had insisted on covering the cost of the expensive room until she secured something else, in addition to her business-class flight and that of her daughter.
Back in Perth, she lived in a small home not too far from her parents and equally close to the hospital and Pennybrook childcare centre. When she’d purchased the three-bedroom house, it had been a very practical decision. It was a nice house but not ostentatious. Understated in its exterior appearance and equally in the interior. Juliet wasn’t in love with her home but the location meant she could drop off Bea and collect her easily from childcare or her grandparents’ home. Most decisions after Bea was born were practical. And never rushed. Up until this trip, Juliet had considered and reconsidered every move she made. Although Charlie clearly thought she was a risk-taker in suggesting the surgical intervention, she thought just the opposite. She carefully weighed up the risks, and never blindly jumped into anything. She had learnt the hard way by rushing into a relationship with Bea’s father and she never planned on doing that again.
In fact, she swore on it.
The ambience of their hotel room was something Juliet loved almost immediately, along with the breathtaking scenery of the Cotswolds. It surprised Juliet that, while she had worried she would feel out of place, she quickly felt comfortable in the South Midlands of England. She was a long way from home but she didn’t feel entirely lost.
As they sat at the small mahogany card table that doubled as a dining table for two, eating their room-service dinner of a hearty beef stew and finished off with a homemade apple pie, Juliet felt as if she had been transported back to another time. Bea managed to eat her children’s size serving even with her sling in place and Juliet felt sure she would sleep well with a full tummy.
But no matter how stunning the room, Juliet had to admit the gorgeous antique bath positioned by the large bay window was completely impractical for a four-year-old with a cast. She felt so sorry for her tiny daughter as she stood her next to the porcelain wash basin and used the fluffy white washcloths to give her a freshen up. It would have been too awkward to place Bea into the free-standing and very deep bath. She needed to check the bathroom of the longer-term accommodation before she signed anything, she thought as she dried Bea and slipped her into snuggly warm pyjamas. Fortunately the pyjama top was made of a stretch knit and quite loose fitting so she could slip it over the cast. But working around her daughter’s broken arm was not how she’d seen the first day ending.
With Bea snuggled in bed after some pain relief and drifting off to sleep, Juliet ran a bath for herself.
‘Mummy,’ Bea called out sleepily across the warm room.
‘Yes, sweetie, what is it?’ Juliet asked as she took a nightdress out of her suitcase, which was open and lying alongside Bea’s. Juliet decided there was no point unpacking and using the ample white built-in wardrobe, which blended into the wall colour, or the ornately carved chest of drawers. They wouldn’t be staying long enough.
‘Why duth Grandpa call you honey and not Juliet?’
‘He’s just always called me honey since I was a little girl.’
‘Ith that becauth he’th your daddy?’
‘I guess so. It’s his special name for me because I’m his daughter and everyone else calls me Juliet.’
‘Charlie called me honey…’
Juliet stopped what she was doing. ‘When?’ she asked with a puzzled look.
‘When I fell in the playground and he picked me up. Duth that mean Charlie could be my daddy?’
Juliet felt her stomach fall and her heart race as she dropped closed her suitcase. Her fallen stomach was the reaction to the unexpected daddy question and just thinking of Charlie in the role of Bea’s father made her heart race. She swallowed a lump that had risen in her throat. Charlie’s handsome face appeared in her mind. She no longer pictured Bea’s father or even thought of him when she looked at Bea.
But now she suddenly pictured Charlie.
With legs shaking, Juliet walked back to her daughter and sat beside her, stroking her face and watching her tired eyes struggle to stay open. They were slowly closing as she kissed her gently. Juliet was trying to find the words to answer Bea. She was still too young to understand what had really happened and why she didn’t have a daddy.
‘No, my sweet, Charlie is not your daddy. But one day when you’re much bigger we can talk about your daddy.’ With that she pulled up the covers over her daughter.
‘Okay.’
‘Sweet dreams.’
As Juliet tiptoed back to the bath she heard her daughter mumble, ‘Mummy?’
‘Yes, sweetie.’
‘I think Charlie would make a nice daddy.’
Juliet felt momentarily overwhelmed. It was
