Why not? She was a successful woman with her own place and a good job. There was no reason she couldn’t bring up a child on her own. The question was—did she really want to?
Family was important to her—and she had a good one. Her mum and dad had retired to Spain a few years ago and had a better social life than she did. Her brother, Euan, was an engineer in Australia, married with three kids under five. She’d honestly never seen him look happier. Every time she video chatted with either her parents or her brother, there was always that little question—Have you met anyone yet?—and she understood; her family just wanted her to be settled and happy, because they knew she wanted that too. But the question was starting to ruffle her normally good nature. It wasn’t as if she could just magic Mr Perfect out of nowhere.
She knew that her mother had always wanted a large, chaotic family. But pre-eclampsia had put paid to that idea, with Clara being told that both she and her mother were lucky to be alive. It had weighed on her mind throughout her life. With her brother being so far away, it felt as if the pressure was on to provide grandchildren her parents could see frequently. And the truth was, she might have had similar hopes to her mother—a life filled with children was always what entered her brain when she dreamed about the future.
The doors to the lift slid open and a few minutes later she was on her own ward. She could see the city landscape through the windows. The familiar sights of the edge of the castle in the distance and the Scott Monument usually made her feel grounded, but today they just left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She quickly checked over the patients, reviewing the diagnoses for those who had been admitted overnight, and rechecking the children who’d already been on her ward. She had just finished talking to some parents about their baby son, who’d been admitted with a chest infection, when her colleague, Bea, came into the office with coffee in both hands.
She slid one over the desk to Clara. ‘You’ve still got that look on your face.’
‘What look?’ Clara glanced up from the screen where she was ordering tests.
‘That look that seems to say I’m trying to pretend to the world I’m fine when I’m really not.’
Clara took one sip of the coffee then wrinkled her brow. ‘What do you mean?’
She’d worked with Bea, one of the senior nurses here, for the last five years. They were friends. Bea wasn’t known for playing her cards close to her chest. Clara liked straight talkers. It was probably why they got on so well together.
Bea sighed. ‘Ever since we had that kid—Ben Shaw—you’ve had a look about you. One that makes it seem like you come here because you have to—not because you want to. You never looked like that before. Something has to give, Clara. And I’m just worried it’s going to be you.’
Clara swallowed back the immediate lump in her throat. Ben Shaw had been admitted overnight a few months ago. Clara had been out sick with norovirus. Any occurrence for a member of staff meant an automatic ban of forty-eight hours from being in contact with patients, and a locum doctor had covered the shift. Ben had been admitted with abdominal pain, for review in the morning.
But as soon as Clara had stepped onto the ward she’d known immediately what was wrong with the toddler. Bowel obstruction was uncommon in kids—and hard to spot for someone inexperienced.
Ben had been rushed to surgery, but had ultimately lost part of his bowel. The delay in diagnosis had been life-changing, and Clara just couldn’t shake that what if feeling.
Bea reached over and squeezed her hand as Clara stared at the screen in front of her, watching it grow a bit blurry. All the stuff about Ben had affected her, left her feeling a bit numb. Flat, even.
It had happened more than once to her before. She’d first been diagnosed with depression as a teenager and it had remained in her life ever since. Sometimes she was good. Sometimes she was bad. Sometimes she needed someone to talk to, and medication to make her feel a bit better. Most people who knew her had no idea. Clara had always played her cards close to her chest, especially about her mental health. It didn’t matter that one in three of all doctors were supposedly affected by mental health issues at some point in their life, it was still something that wasn’t really discussed. When she’d had to take a few months off from medical school her family and tutors had been extremely supportive; she’d even got to delay an important exam and take it at a later date. But she still didn’t like to tell anyone about it.
She bit her lip and sat back, reaching for the coffee with both hands. ‘It’s just been a hard few months. What with Ben, then the break-up with Harry, and stuff going on with Ryan.’
‘What’s going on with Ryan?’ asked Bea.
Clara ran her hands through her hair. ‘Can you keep a secret?’
Bea nodded. Ryan McGregor was a fellow doctor in the hospital and Clara’s best friend and she knew he liked to keep things low-key about his disastrous love life.
‘He’s having a really hard time. He’s going through a difficult divorce and just can’t seem to get out of the hole he’s dug himself into. He’s having to come and stay at mine for a few days until
