Her Miracle Twins. Margaret Barker

Don’t worry. A month from now you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.’

      She certainly would. As she watched the lithe, athletic figure disappear through the door she was experiencing mixed emotions. Somehow she felt she was getting to know the real person beneath the dour façade Michel presented to his professional colleagues. Her emotions this morning were dangerously out of order. She too had always elected to present a façade to her colleagues to cover up the agony she’d been through before she’d started working here.

      Sidonie applied more pressure with the ice pack. ‘Quite a charmer, isn’t he?’

      Chantal hesitated. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. He’s good at his job.’

      ‘Oh, he’s devoted to his job. You know his wife died don’t you? Over three years ago, I believe. Apparently, she died of cancer and he’s never got over it. We all fancied him when he arrived to be Director of Emergency, over a year ago now.’

      Sidonie gave an expressive sigh. ‘Well, who wouldn’t fancy him? Tall, dark and handsome and built like an athlete. But he made it quite clear to all of us that he wasn’t interested in relationships. He’s the sort of man who obviously adored his wife and will never take a long-term girlfriend. Definitely not remarry, that’s for sure! She must have been a very special woman to deserve such loyalty from him.’

      Sidonie paused in her observations and gave another sigh. ‘That’s unfortunate for all the unmarried staff who lavish attention on him. If I wasn’t a forty-year-old married woman with two children I’d fancy him myself.’

      She removed the ice pack and smiled down at her patient. ‘You’ve been working in Emergency since February, haven’t you? I heard you were on the medical staff of a hospital in Paris before you came here. How does the Hôpital de la Plage compare to your previous hospital?’

      Chantal hesitated. ‘Well, it’s different. Actually, it’s like coming home for me. You see, I was born just a few miles away in Montreuil. My English father died when I was seven. My French mother resumed her teaching career after that and she took me to live in Paris where she’d got a job. That’s where she brought me up, although we always used to return to this area and stay here during the long summer vacation.

      ‘This coastline feels like my second home because I know it so well. When I was old enough I did my medical training in Paris and took a staff position when I qualified.’

      Sidonie put the ice pack down on a trolley and sat down beside her patient. ‘Was it because you regard this area as your second home that you chose to leave Paris?’

      Chantal looked at the figure of the kindly woman and found her experienced presence very comforting. She welcomed a girly chat to take her mind off the pain and the unexpected turn of events today.

      She lay back against her pillows. ‘It was a sudden decision. Very sudden.’

      She drew in her breath as the awful memory of that fateful day flooded back to her.

      ‘One minute I was on cloud nine, in love with the man of my dreams, three months pregnant with his much-wanted baby.’

      She hesitated. Should she, indeed could she, go on? What did she have to lose?

      ‘Then the phone rang and everything changed.’

      Her voice was quavering as she gathered her thoughts. Was it really a good idea to unload the sordid details onto someone who was a colleague?

      The orthopaedic sister was watching her with a deeply sympathetic expression on her face, as if anticipating what was to come. Oh, it would be good for her to get it off her chest. She’d bottled it up ever since she arrived at the Hôpital de la Plage. It was about time she relaxed and socialised a bit more. It wasn’t her fault she’d been totally hoodwinked by a despicable, two-timing scoundrel.

      She could hear the sound of a heavy trolley being pushed past her door through the swing doors into the ward and the murmur of the nurses and patients as the doors opened.

      A nurse knocked, before opening her door. ‘Dr Winstone, would you like some lunch?’

      Chantal shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Nurse.’

      Sidonie turned her head. ‘Is everything OK in the ward, Sylvie?’

      The young nurse smiled. ‘Fine, Sister. A nice quiet Sunday for once.’

      ‘I’ll be back to check the medicines after you’ve served the lunch. Pay attention to the patients on extra fluids, won’t you?’

      ‘Of course, Sister.’ She turned back to her patient. ‘So what happened after the phone rang?’

      Chantal moved her good foot into a more comfortable position at the side of the cushions supporting her injured ankle as that fateful evening last September came flooding back.

      ‘I was in the kitchen in my apartment, roasting a chicken for our supper, I remember. My boyfriend had phoned earlier to invite himself round that evening so I’d picked up a chicken at the supermarket on my way home from hospital.’

      She swallowed hard. ‘The phone rang. I answered it. It was a woman’s voice. She asked if Jacques was there. I called him over and went on preparing the meal. I assumed it was probably one of his private patients. He seemed to have lots of those. He was such a charming person. Unpredictable, though. I never knew when he was going to turn up.’

      Already she could feel the bitterness welling up inside her. ‘He took the phone into the sitting room. I could hear his voice, very low, more like a whisper. Then suddenly he started shouting. ‘No, you mustn’t do that! No, you can’t come here. You can’t! ’

      Sidonie sat very still as she waited for Chantal to continue. She could see how upset she was.

      ‘He slammed down the phone and came back into the kitchen. His face was drained of all colour and he was trembling. At the same time I could hear footsteps on the stairs coming up from the ground floor of my apartment block. Then hammering on the door.’

      ‘Who was it?’

      ‘His wife. I had no idea he was married. It transpired that she’d been caring for her sick mother in the south of France for a few months. A friend had tipped her off that her husband was being unfaithful and had given her my address and phone number.’

      ‘So what happened when his wife arrived?’

      Chantal cleared her throat. ‘She started shrieking at him. Hitting him in the chest with her fists. He grabbed her wrists, fending off the blows as he tried to placate her. He said he could explain everything. How pathetic! The evidence was there before the poor woman’s eyes, for heaven’s sake. I found myself feeling sorry for her.’

      ‘So, did she start shouting at you?’

      ‘No, that was the strange thing. She barely glanced at me. It was her pig of a husband she was mad with. I’d heard enough about his womanising as she continued to hurl abuse at him. I just wanted it all to stop. So I opened my door and asked them both to leave.’

      ‘And then?’

      ‘They noticed me at last. His wife grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door. I continued to hold the door wide open. She was still shouting. I told them both again to get out of my apartment. After they’d gone I went into my bedroom. My brain had gone numb. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep.’

      No, she couldn’t tell her any more of the agony that had come afterwards, not now anyway. She wanted to move forward with her life. She was a different person from the innocent, trusting woman she’d been. The heartbreaking experience later that night had changed her for ever. She couldn’t even speak about her miscarriage.

      ‘I’m sorry, Sidonie, to burden you with all this.’

      Sidonie leaned across and patted her hand. ‘Thank you for sharing a confidence with me. I feel privileged to have been told something of your background. You always seemed