“Are you all right?” I asked from the kitchen doorway.

He shook his head and looked at his daughter, “No, not really. I pretend I am, but I’m not.” He stood like he meant to walk out of the room, but he sat down on the sofa instead, “I’ll be honest. I’ve been waiting for her to ring. She does from time to time. I check my mobile every day, wondering if I’ve missed her. I actually hope she’ll ring, you know? I hope she’ll tell me she’s well. Just then, she was wrecked. She couldn’t carry on a conversation, she just babbled. Confessed her very soul to me, she just did.”

“She wants to see you and the children?”

He ran his hand through his dark hair, “Aye, it’s the first time she’s said so, but she can’t come here to see us. She wants me to bring the children there.”

“You said no.”

“I did. I can’t do it.” He was quiet for a long time. “No woman ever touched me, you know that, yeah? All those girls, all those girlfriends, even the ones I liked. Not one touched me, but Melissa broke my heart. I hate her for all the pain she caused me. I hate her because I loved her and I know she didn’t love me. And the really mad thing is I swear if she knocked on that door right now I can’t say I wouldn’t invite her in and do it again.”

I knew he would. If she had knocked instead of phoned he would have taken her back even after all she had done to him. Alexander was world renown for holding a grudge. Very few understood he had a vast capacity for forgiveness as well.

“I loved her, Sil. I truly did. I still do in this weird, masochistic sort of way. I could have loved her forever if she’d have let me,” He seemed dazed, as if this were something he'd gone over in his head a thousand times and had never been able to sort out, “We had a family. We could have been a right and true family, but she pushed us away. If she didn’t love me, that’s fine. It hurts, but I can live with it. That’s my fucked up karma. I think of Meredith Ainsworth and what I did to her and I know I deserve it. I just can’t understand why she didn’t love the children.” He dropped his head and rested it in his hands. When he looked up, he might have been crying, but there were no tears in his eyes, “Simple of me?”

“There’s nothing simple about it.”

“It’s just a damn shame,” He shook his head, “It’s just such a damn, tragic shame.”

I said nothing else.

Years later when she was grown and on her own, Natalie’s younger daughter had a health scare. Nattie looked her mother up and phoned her to ask some questions about the family’s medical history. Melissa answered all she asked, but at the end of the conversation she requested that Natalie never call again. Her voice was, she told her, too painful a reminder of a life she’d chosen to leave behind.

“What a complete bitch!” Natalie exclaimed as she hung up. “I’m still her daughter and this is her grandchild whether she likes it or not!”

I patted my niece on the shoulder. Alexander’s words rang through my mind. I was inclined to agree with him.

It was a damn tragic shame indeed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Perhaps it was because he never let go of his sense of adventure or his quest for merriment, but his entire life Oliver Dickinson had a special way about him. He was always happy, always smiling, rarely did a negative statement ever escape his lips. By the time Carolena was two, he was the leading area paediatrician and he knew every child and every parent within an hour of the area. The children loved him to bits as he was kind and funny. Some adults, however, didn’t trust how odd he was. And my husband was odd, too, and unapologetic about it. He had his own method of doing things and he didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought because he was an excellent doctor and an excellent human being. He knew it, as well, although he never boasted.

I loved it when I was fortunate enough to be able to watch him at work. He was a man made for children. I remember one evening I was at his office with our own little ones, helping him close for the night, when the phone rang. Even after office hours with none of his staff there, he answered it. “Oh, great green goobers! “ He fiddled with a paperclip, “Yes, bring him in straight away! No, that’s fine. You’ll sit in that hospital for days before they’ll be able to see him. I’ll wait. “

A half hour later a young woman appeared with an obviously sick little boy. The child was terrified and refused to come out from under her coat or go into the examination room. I went into the back to tell Oliver. “He won’t come, Sweetheart. You should see him, though. I got his temperature and he’s got no fever, but and he’s crying and it hurts him to make any sound, so he‘s doing it silently. It‘s pathetic! It‘s awful!”

“Aww,” Oliver made a sad face, “Poor lad!” He washed his hands and walked into the lobby, tossed his lab jacket on to the sofa, and sat on a chair. “Hello,” He said brightly, “I’m Oliver,” He was looking right at the mother, “Are you Damien?”

“No,” She answered, clearly confused.

“Oh,” He scratched his head, “Somebody called Damien was supposed to stop by my office. Is he here?” He looked about dramatically, “I hear he’s quite frightened to be with a doctor. Maybe he’s hiding then?” He opened a drawer on the colouring table, “No, he’s not in here,” He looked under the chair, “No, not here, either!” He peered inside a tissue box, and then placed a fist on his hip, “Nor here. Hem! Well, where is he then?”

Damien giggled and poked his head out from under his mother’s coat.

“Ah-ha!” Oliver clapped his hands together, “I’ve found him! Damien, I need help! Can you help me?”

Damien nodded.

“I have this problem, you see,” Oliver leaned forward so he was eye level with the boy and looked at him very seriously, “I get these bogeys in my nose,” He said quickly, “Huge ones. Real dragon scales. I try to pull them out, but sometimes I can’t tell where they are,” He held out an instrument, “Can you look and see if you can find any for me?”

Damien giggled again He stepped away from his mother and held out his hand.

Oliver placed the object in his little hand, “Just push the red button and the light will come on-like. There, that’s right!” He tilted his head up, “Just shine it up my nose and tell me if I have any.” The little boy giggled and shined it up Ollie’s nose. “Do I have any?”

“No!” Damien laughed.

“Good! I must have got them! Would you mind if I had a look to see if you have any? We’ll do bogey patrol!” Damien handed him the light, tilted his head and Ollie had a peek, “Damien,” He asked seriously, “Have you swallowed any frogs?”

Damien laughed wildly. “No!”

“No? Well, your mother told me you had a frog in your throat!” Oliver ran the light in front of the boy’s eyes.

“My throat hurts.”

“Well, it might be a frog, yeah? Even if you didn’t swallow it on purpose, sometimes they crawl in there while you’re sleeping and get stuck. Might be why your throat hurts. May I have a look?”

Damien opened his mouth wide.

“Oh, dear,” Oliver shook his head, looking into the boy’s throat, and clicked his tongue, “Definitely a frog. Maybe two. Do your ears hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Let me have a look then,” Oliver waited for the boy to turn his head, and then checked his ear, “Pesky frogs! They’ve gotten into your ears, too, Lad!”

Damien looked shocked.

“No worries,” Ollie checked the other ear, and then fingered the glands in the boy’s neck, “We have anti-frog serum we can give you. Some other doctors might tell your mother that you have a sinus and a double ear infection, but I won’t lie. It’s definitely frogs.” Damien’s mother laughed. “Let me have a quick listen to you breathe,” Oliver popped on his stethoscope and pressed it to the boy‘s chest,, “Very good, Lad!” He turned back to the mother, “We’ll give him an antibiotic,” He pulled his pad out of his lab coat pocket and began to scribble on it, “And something for pain. Clear liquids, lots of rest. He’ll be good as new in no time.”