Midwife Under The Mistletoe. Karin Baine

future.

      This was different, though. Iona wasn’t a love interest, so her casual attitude to life shouldn’t bother him on a personal level, but she was a staff member and they had rules in place here for a reason.

      ‘I appreciate the gesture,’ Fraser said diplomatically, doing his best to remain calm. Iona didn’t know him personally so wouldn’t understand the issues he had with the whole palaver at this time of the year.

      They’d never gone in for the whole over-the-top lead up to Christmas at boarding school and the death of his mother on Christmas Eve had cemented Fraser’s dislike of the season. It was a reminder of the childhood he’d lost and the family that had never recovered from the devastation of cancer. Now he dreaded that last week in December more than ever since it was also the anniversary of his break-up with Caroline.

      He’d made the mistake of trying to embrace Christmas last year in an effort to make it special for her with an over-the-top marriage proposal, including a horse-drawn sleigh and carol singers serenading them along the ride. Only she’d turned him down on the basis that he was ‘being fake’. Fraser couldn’t win and was now even less likely to get caught up in the fuss, reverting back to his true Grinchy self, unwilling to be one of those people who lost their minds for the sake of one anti-climactic day.

      On the rare occasions his parents had retrieved Fraser for the holidays it had been a non-event anyway. They’d gone through the motions without ever getting bogged down in the sentiment. Whilst he’d yearned for this infantile nonsense as a child far from home, he’d learned to live without it.

      Iona carried on making her mark on the recently painted ceiling, humming Christmas carols and reminding Fraser what a very long month December could be when you weren’t in the festive spirit.

      ‘As I said, I appreciate the gesture but we can’t have all of this cluttering up the surgery.’ He would’ve told her that if she’d sought his permission in the first place.

      ‘I think the patients will love it. It gives them something to focus on other than their aches and pains.’

      Sure. They’d all end up with tinsel blindness on top of everything else.

      ‘I’m sorry, it’ll all have to go. It’s a health and safety hazard.’ Fraser began to detach the string of fairy lights from the reception desk.

      ‘Okay, I’ll give you the lights. They haven’t been assessed by a registered electrician but they are bonny. Perhaps I could bung more tinsel there instead. I have some neon pink somewhere...’ Iona clearly wasn’t going to give this up without a fight and, as had become the custom, Fraser would have to get tough to have his opinion heard.

      He ripped down the cardboard Father Christmas she’d stuck to the counter and hoped it wouldn’t leave any sticky marks behind. ‘It’s all going to have to come down.’

      Iona stopped this time. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

      ‘I don’t kid.’ He reached his hand up and tugged the large blue and silver foil star dangling from the ceiling until the tack holding it in place dislodged and pinged to the floor. This was exactly what he was talking about. One drawing pin in the wrong person’s foot and they could be facing a lawsuit. Luckily for them both he spotted the gold pin glinting on the dark carpet and retrieved it before it damaged more than his peace of mind.

      ‘What harm can a few decorations do?’ Iona faced him, her displeasure flaring in her big brown eyes and her full lips pursed into a tight line. It didn’t thrill him to note he was the one with the power to steal away the twinkling smile she wore for everyone else.

      ‘They’re a breeding ground for germs with so many sick people coming and going. Then there’s the dust. Think of how many asthma patients we have. Our appointment list is full enough without putting it under more stress.’ Deep down Fraser knew he was grasping for excuses but coming into the clinic every morning and being reminded of the worst days of his life was too much for him to bear.

      ‘Okay. Okay. I get it. I was only trying to do something nice. Talk about dampening the mood,’ she muttered as though he wasn’t there, and began dismantling her ceiling display.

      ‘I know, but perhaps next time you could check with me first instead of going rogue?’ Fraser understood her intentions had been good and would’ve preferred not to fuel this animosity between them, but Iona’s spur-of-the-moment actions were infuriating when they impeached on his carefully laid plans and tugged on emotions that needed to remain dormant for the remainder of this dreaded month.

      ‘Yes, sir.’ With her anger clearly still bubbling away, Iona yanked down the bunting she’d only finished hanging.

      Fraser watched in horror as she tottered on the chair, clearly off balance, her arms freewheeling in the air as she fell.

      With lightning-fast reflexes he rushed over and caught her in his arms before she hit the floor. Iona’s yelp softened to a gasp as he hooked a hand under her knees and one under her arms. Instinctively she latched her arms around his neck but that contact and the strong grip she had on him almost startled him into dropping her again.

      The adrenaline rush was making them both breathe heavily and in that moment, holding her in his arms, their faces almost touching, it was easy to forget what they’d been fighting over, or even where they were.

      She weighed very little, reminding him how delicate she appeared to be beyond the bravado. Despite her petite frame, she projected herself as a larger-than-life character but, with their clashing personalities stripped away for the time being, he was reacting solely as a man with an attractive woman pressed against him and was too stunned to do anything other than enjoy the sensation.

      Iona blinked first. ‘You can put me down now. I think I’m safe.’

      ‘Sure.’ Fraser abruptly set her back on her feet and tried to compose himself. ‘Like I said, a health and safety nightmare.’

      He ignored her tutting as she tore down the rest of the decorations, thankful that this moment of madness had passed, letting normal, tense service resume between them. It was easier to view her as a threat to his plans for a new, improved workplace than through any inappropriate romantic haze.

       CHAPTER TWO

      AS SHE DID every morning, Iona arrived at the clinic with plenty of time to spare before she was officially on the clock. Due to the unpredictable nature of midwifery, scheduled meal breaks were impossible and she often had to eat on the road, if she managed to eat at all. So having a quick cup of tea and a bowl of porridge in the morning as she checked her schedule for the day ensured Iona had at least one proper meal in peace.

      Today she was especially keen to get on the road as she’d booked the afternoon off. It was moving day and she was bursting with the excitement of transferring her belongings from her rental to her very own home. It wouldn’t take more than a few runs in the car with the meagre possessions she had, and some of her male colleagues had volunteered to give her a hand with the heavy lifting. The sooner Iona got around her patients, the sooner she’d get settled into her own place.

      Except as she lifted her first spoonful of thick, oaty goodness to her mouth, a note in the blood results of one of her patients immediately threw her plans into chaos. Iona shovelled in her breakfast as quickly as she could while digesting the news that had come in.

      At around five days old, babies were offered newborn blood spot screening, or a heel-prick test, where a small amount of blood is taken to screen for certain genetic disorders. In this case, the baby had tested positive for one of the listed conditions—phenylketonuria, or PKU for short. Although Iona had done some research into the illness during the course of her training, it was a rare metabolic condition she’d never personally come across before, with approximately only one baby in ten thousand in the UK a sufferer.

      The genetic mutation for phenylketonuria was passed on by both parents who might not even have been