The Good Father Read online

  “Do you forgive me?”

  She didn’t. It was too soon for her to do that.

  “I’m working on it,” she said, and he smiled. A gentle, apologetic smile that coaxed a reluctant answering smile from her.

  A smile that slowly faded when his eyes continued to hold hers and she saw the guilt in them replaced by something altogether darker, hotter, more disturbing.

  Get out of here, Maddie, she told herself as she felt her pulse kick up and every nerve ending she possessed spring into life. Get out of here, fast.

  “I…I ought to get back to my work,” she said, trying to jerk her eyes away from his, only to find she couldn’t.

  “Must you?” he said, and she swallowed, hard.

  Oh, Lord, it would be so easy to like this man. Hell, she was halfway there already. But this time it wouldn’t just be her who would get hurt if it all went wrong.

  Dear Reader,

  I’ve always had a very personal interest in neonatal intensive-care units. My niece and nephew, who weighed just two pounds, seven ounces at birth, spent three months in one, and I learned more than I ever wanted to know about the highs and lows involved in the care and treatment of preemies. The medical staff I met in that NICU was incredible, and I knew I wanted to write a story about their work, but for a long time I struggled to find my hero—until my niece and nephew were squabbling like crazy one morning and suddenly the character of Gabriel Dalgleish popped into my head. What if this big-cheese consultant was terrific with babies, but completely hopeless with children who could talk? What if I gave my heroine, Maddie Bryce, two very opinionated children? And what if, instead of my hero instantly bonding with these children, as heroes so often do in the movies, Gabriel said all wrong things? I started to chuckle. I’m a cruel, cruel person, and it was then I knew I had a story. A story I wanted to share with you all, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  Maggie Kingsley

  The Good Father

  Maggie Kingsley

  For Pat, who has listened to my moans and groans over the past year without ever once telling me to shut up, and who has the most tolerant husband in the world in Peter

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  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 w
ished 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 o
f 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?