Page 43 of Dr. Single Dad

There are a fewooohsandarrrsaround the table, acknowledging the sting of John’s remarks. But everyone’s smiling and it all feels genuine. Warm.

John starts chuckling and stands. “Vincent, come and help me with some wine, will you? The Malbec’s still in boxes in the entryway.”

Jacob doesn’t look chastised. No one’s taking anything personally.

“She’s very beautiful,” Carole says. “And she’s very relaxed for a first baby. Don’t you think, Eira?”

“I think she’s very beautiful, and I find most babies are relaxed as long as their caregivers are relaxed.”

Carole chuckles. “That’s so true. It’s the same with patients. A relaxed doctor makes a relaxed patient. Isn’t that right, John?” she asks as her husband returns, carrying a box of wine bottles, followed by Vincent with two boxes.

Carole rolls her eyes. “How much Malbec are you lot going to drink?”

“All of it!” booms John.

John and Vincent uncork the wine and pass out fresh glasses, while me and a few others clear plates and Carole and Dax plate the main course. There’s so much activity, it’s chaos, except it’s not. It’s like a crowd scene in a movie: everyone is doing their own thing, but everyone knows their lines and exactly what they’re meant to be doing.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

The noise. The banter. The warmth. The love.

It’s so different to anything I’ve seen or experienced before.

“Tell us about you,” Carole says when we’re all seated again. “We really should have a short questionnaire for newbies to fill out to get us up to speed.”

“Mum,” Dax groans. “You’re starting to sound like Dad.”

She chuckles. “I do, don’t I? I thought you of all people would like that idea. It would be efficient. You could create some kind of spreadsheet.” Carole isn’t distracted and turns her attention back to me. “Do you come from a big family?”

“I have a younger brother and a younger sister.”

“Lovely,” she replies. “How old are they?”

“My brother Dylan is twenty-four. Eddie, my sister, is in her final year of university. She’s twenty.”

“Babies,” Madison says.

“Eddie?” John asks. “Is that short for something?”

“Her real name is Efa.” Anytime I ever use Eddie’s real name, it feels like a betrayal. She hates it so much. She renamed herself at three years old.

“Efa, Dylan and Eira. Names of a proud Welsh family,” John says. “What do your parents do?”

As a nanny, I’m not used to people being interested in my background beyond my experience with children. The Coves seem lovely, but I can’t help but wonder why they keep asking me questions.

“My father was a businessman,” I reply. “My mother worked in the city. They died a few years ago.”

A hush settles on the table and I keep my gaze on my plate. Death makes people feel uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as someone who doesn’t seem that bothered by the death of her parents. I don’t want to look anyone in the eye in case they see it.

“I’m so sorry.” Carole clasps her hand over mine.

“How did they die?” John asks.

“Dad,” Dax reprimands.

“John,” Carole says and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Eira. John…well, it’s easy to be very matter-of-fact about death as a doctor.”

“It’s fine. They died in a helicopter crash.”

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