Neurosurgeon...and Mum! by Kate Hardy

working in an area with serious infectious diseases, and everyone who goes out there knows that and accepts that risk. It’s not your fault. It was her decision to go, Tom. You didn’t push her into it.’
    ‘Maybe not.’ He sighed, the sadness expanding inside him. ‘Ah, hell. It’s been a year, and I still can’t deal with it. I miss her—of course I miss her—and it’s so hard bringing up Perdy without having someone to talk to, someone who can help me sort out the problems before they get too huge. But I’m so angry with her at the same time. Perdy and I just weren’t enough for her, and I just can’t forgive her for that.’
    ‘How can you be so sure you weren’t enough for her?’
    Tom sighed. ‘She wasn’t happy, right from when we found out she was pregnant. She had really bad morning sickness at the start—and as soon as that stopped, the indigestion started. She hated being pregnant. And during labour she told me she wished she’d never got pregnant.’
    ‘So I hear, a lot of women say that sort of thing during labour,’ Amy said. ‘Didn’t your midwife warn you not to take transition talk seriously?’
    ‘It went deeper than that,’ Tom said. ‘She never really bonded with Perdy. I did wonder at first if Eloise might have postnatal depression, but then I realised it wasn’t that. It was just how Eloise was, the way she’d been brought up. She just didn’t know how to love our baby. And I think Perdy knew it, too—she never talks about her mother. Ever.’ He bit his lip. ‘It worries me that she’s bottling it all up, but I don’t know how to get her to talk to me about it.’
    ‘People deal with things in different ways,’ Amy said softly. ‘Not talking about it to you doesn’t necessarily means she’s bottling it up. She might talk about it to someone else.’
    ‘Why not me? I’m her dad.’
    Amy could see the hurt in his eyes. She kissed him lightly. ‘Maybe she thinks it hurts you too much to talk about her—and talking to someone else means that she won’t be hurting you.’
    He sighed. ‘I just wish I could be sure that she’s OK.’
    ‘Hey. Parents are supposed to worry about their kids.’ Amy ruffled his hair.
    ‘Eloise never seemed to worry about her. Not the way I do.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose she was just following her parents’ lead. I could never quite understand them. I mean, I’m an only child too and my parents have always loved me to bits. They were so proud of me, and I always knew it didn’t matter if I didn’t come first, as long as I’d tried my hardest. I knew that coming second didn’t mean they wouldn’t love me. But Eloise…If she didn’t come top, her parents weren’t interested. And I never saw them show any affection towards her—all they were interested in was how she was doing at work, when she was going to get a chance for promotion.’
    ‘What about Perdy? She’s their only grandchild.’
    ‘Yes, and you’d think they’d have been thrilled about it. But even when they saw Perdy for the first time, they didn’t give Eloise a huge hug and tell her how gorgeous the baby was or any of the stuff normal grandparents would say, whereas my parents fell in love with Perdy from the very second they saw her. They always greeted us with a hug and a kiss, and before Dad’s arthritis got bad he always used to carry Perdy around on his shoulders and get down on the floor to play games with her. Eloise’s parents never did anything like that with her. They’ve never even read her a story or sat colouring a picture with her. They’re airkissers,’ he said, looking disgusted.
    ‘So are my parents,’ Amy said.
    He blinked. ‘I would never have guessed. I mean, Joe and Cassie…’
    ‘Are incredibly warm,’ Amy agreed. ‘But I think Cassie changed Joe. She made him who he is today. My grandfatherhad a real stiff upper lip, and Dad and Joe inherited it. Being the younger son, Dad felt he had to prove himself—don’t get me