Bound By Their Babies: Bound by Their Babies. Caroline Anderson
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of wine later, they’d thrashed out a workable timetable that gave both of them what they wanted, shared out the tasks equally and wouldn’t let any of the patients down, and they’d built in capacity for another three sessions.
He sat back, let his breath out in a whoosh and gave her a high five.
‘Sorted. Now all we have to do is write a load of appropriate twaddle about how well we’ve thought it through and what makes us think it’s not going to crash and burn.’
She chuckled and stood up. ‘Not tonight. Come on, let’s watch a bit of mindless TV and go to bed. It’ll still be there tomorrow and we won’t sleep if we don’t have a break from it.’
She was talking sense, but a huge part of him wanted to sort it now, because he knew it wasn’t twaddle and Ben had made it perfectly clear how important it was.
‘I bought chocolate earlier,’ she taunted, heading for the sitting room.
‘As if we haven’t just eaten enough rubbish. What sort?’
‘Oh, it’s healthy. Fruit and nut. Two of your five a day—and it’s dark chocolate, which is positively good for you,’ she said over her shoulder, and he dropped his pen, stood up and followed her.
‘There could be disadvantages to working with someone who knows me quite so well,’ he growled, plopping down onto the sofa beside her and picking up the TV remote. ‘Hand it over, then.’
* * *
He was up at five to fill in the application form, putting his case for wanting to job share and how he saw it working for the patients in his care, and he heard the stairs creak and Emily walked in in her pyjamas, hair tousled, one cheek rosy from having slept on it.
And looking as sexy as hell.
‘Tea?’ she asked, and he nodded, his head draining of coherent thought.
‘Please. With caffeine. Why are you up?’
‘To help you? I heard you go downstairs, and I had an idea you’d be doing this while the children are still asleep.’
He gave a wry grunt. ‘Absolutely. If we can, I want to give it to Ben today for his thoughts so we’ve got time to tweak it before he puts it to the Board tomorrow. Are you OK for me to go to work tomorrow, by the way?’
‘Of course I am. I have to be. It’s the new reality, Jake.’
She filled the kettle and came and sat down next to him, the drift of warm, Emily-scented air and the crazy pyjamas doing nothing for his concentration.
‘I’m a bit worried we might have a timing problem. I have to give eight weeks’ notice if I’m not going back to my old job after mat leave, which means by the end of next week, but if I hand in my notice there and they say no to the job share here, I could end up with a break in my continuous NHS employment and have to give back my maternity pay, and I just don’t have the money.’
He stopped thinking about her pyjamas and let his breath out on a long, low whistle.
‘I hadn’t realised you were so near the end of mat leave, but you’re right, that could be tight. I’ll make sure Ben knows, but as we don’t have a female consultant or anyone wanting to do more sessions, it’s a golden opportunity for them and they’d be mad to turn us down because some women really need a female doctor. It’ll take the pressure off our female registrars, and I can think of at least one patient I’ve seen in the last week who I’d want to hand over to you for just that reason and I’m sure there are others. We just have to sound convincing.’
He sat back and stretched out his shoulders. ‘Has that kettle boiled yet? This is making my head hurt.’
* * *
He went off to see Ben later that morning, armed with their draft proposal and suggested timetable split, and she girded her loins to deal with another joyous day of tantrums from Matilda, but there were none—or at least not on the scale of her previous efforts.
Instead she ate her breakfast nicely, then lay on the floor with Zach and built a tower of cups for him to knock down, and built it again, and again, and again, and every time he knocked it down she giggled, and so did he.
Emily was stunned, and when Jake rang in the middle of it, she held the phone out so he could hear.
‘Is that Zach laughing?’
‘It’s both of them. It’s delicious. I don’t know what’s got into them, but I’m all in favour of it. Have you spoken to Ben?’
‘Yes. He’s taken it all away to read through a bit more thoroughly, but he seems more than happy. He was talking about the Board contacting your referees before they interview you, so you might want to OK that with them before tomorrow.’
‘I’ve done it—or at least the ones I could get hold of. I’ve emailed the CEO but my clinical lead’s going to have a word. He was brilliant, so supportive. They’ve been amazing to me, and I feel bad about not going back, but—I just feel this is right for both of us.’
‘You and Zach, you mean?’
‘No! You and me. Well, and the children, on current form, but I won’t hold my breath,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Any ideas what I should do with them next when this all falls apart?’
‘Matilda likes cooking. We make rock buns sometimes. It’s hard to ruin them.’
She chuckled. ‘What, even for you?’ she teased.
‘Very funny. I’m on my way, but you’ll find everything you need in the cupboard next to the fridge. Don’t eat them all before I get home.’
‘You know what? It’s a gorgeous day. Why don’t I make a picnic instead and we could go to the beach? They’d love that, and maybe what we all need is some time together just having fun.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea. Want me to pick anything up?’
‘Sandwiches? I think we’ve got everything else.’
‘OK. I’ll see you shortly.’
* * *
She was right, the children had a wonderful time on the beach, and so did they.
They found a nice flat area in the shelter of a breakwater and had their picnic, then they built a sandcastle just below the high-water mark where the sand was still damp enough to stick together.
‘It needs a moat,’ Emily insisted.
‘Of course it does, why wouldn’t it?’ he said wryly, knowing what was coming, so he rolled up his jeans as high as he could and took a bucket down to the sea and got predictably drenched by a freak wave.
‘It’s not funny,’ he told her, trying not to laugh, but Matilda thought it was hilarious and little Zach joined in, and then when they’d all finished laughing at him they decided—they being Em, of course—that it would be fun to bury him in the sand.
‘Really?’
‘Really. Lie down and stop fussing. You know you want to.’
So he dug out a hollow and lay down in it obediently and let them cover him in sand. It was damper than he’d realised, though, and by the time he broke free and stood up, he was plastered in it.
‘It’ll fall off when it dries,’ Em said cheerfully, and handed him a bucket. ‘Why don’t you go and rinse your hands and feet and bring some water up so we can rinse our hands, too, and then I think it might be time to go. They’re getting tired.’
‘I’m not surprised. They’ve shifted about a ton of sand between them.’
‘They had help.’
‘I noticed,’ he said drily, but he went and fetched water, more cautiously this time, and then they cleared up all the toys and the remains of the picnic and set off.
*