Page 13 of Dr. Single Dad

“I do think we need to find Daddy.” She nods toward the football field, where teams practice on the all-weather court at the back of the playground.

“He’s playing football?” I ask.

“Yes.” Her voice is a wheeze and she’s gripping her chest.

Never mind Daddy. I think we need an ambulance. “Do you need to lie down?” I ask as I pull out my phone from my pocket.

She doesn’t respond, but she leans back on the bench, her breathing labored. I dial for an ambulance.

Glancing around, I try to see if there’s anyone official I can wave over who might have a first-aid kit. Obviously, I have sometraining, but this lady looks like she’s having a seizure or a stroke or something.

I pull Elliot out of the swing, place him back in the buggy and bring the buggy around to the back of the bench so I can keep an eye on him. I take the pram from the woman’s fingers and maneuver it next to Elliot so they’re both safe. The baby in there is nicely wrapped up and sleeping peacefully.

I give details to the emergency services. UCH is just around the corner. I wonder if it’s better to take her in a taxi? But it’s impossible with two babies.

“Why don’t you lie down,” I say. The bench is wide enough and she looks like she’s about to fall down if I don’t help her. I help her lie on her side and glance back to the football pitch. We need the baby’s fathernow. He can take his mum to hospital.

I hear a siren and wonder if that’s for us. I hope it is.

“What’s your son’s name?” I ask.

“Who?” she asks. She’s confused.

“Stay here,” I say. “I’m going to find your son.”

I can’t leave the children, so I scoop up the baby, huddled in its blanket, and with my free hand, push Elliot toward the football pitch. The child in the sandpit seems to have disappeared. Where is everyone? I pick up speed and get to the wire fencing.

“Help!” I call. No one hears me. “I need help. Your mum is sick.” I don’t know who I’m talking to, or whose mum I’m screaming about.

“Help!”

A couple of players nearer me stop and they hold up their hands to stop the game and come closer to the fencing.

“Who’s mum is looking after the baby?” I ask. “She’s sick.” I glance back at the bench, and I see the ambulance pulled up to the other side of the iron railings. Thank god they got here fast.

Other players head in my direction to see what the commotion is about.

“Eira?” someone asks.

I search the faces to find the person who seems to know me and lock eyes with Dax, the hot single dad Eddie would have been delighted for me to work for.

“Dax Cove?” I glance down at the bundle of pink blankets in my arms. Am I holding Guinevere? When I look back up, Dax is sprinting to the gate. I look back at the bench. “I think your mum is sick.”

Elliot squeals from the buggy but thankfully isn’t upset.

“My mum?” he asks, glancing down at the baby in my arms. “How do you know my mum?” He doesn’t reach for the baby. Maybe this isn’t Guinevere.

“The lady on the bench?”

He looks toward the bench and starts to sprint again.

Some of the other players come out and follow him. “Can we do anything?”

I don’t answer as I see the paramedics coming through the gate of the playground. I need to tell them what I know. I start to make my way back to the bench, pushing Elliot and carrying a still-sleeping baby in my arms. Dax is already there, kneeling at the woman’s head as the paramedics arrive.

I can’t tell them much, and she doesn’t seem to be talking at all, although her eyes are open. She looks gray. I’m so pleased the ambulance is here.

“Fuck,” Dax says as he stands and lets the paramedics take over.

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