Their Unexpected Babies

He headed back to the cubicle, acutely aware of her following behind him. He introduced Leah to the flustered mum and explained what they were about to do.

‘I’m going to use glue to close the wound. It’s got nice straight edges, and it’s not bleeding any more, so it should come together quite nicely.’

The mum nodded.

‘We’ll do it with him sitting on your lap, as he seems comfortable there. Dr Hudson will try to distract him with bubbles as it might sting just a little when I put the glue on, so hold him quite firmly.’

‘Okay...’

Leah began blowing when Ben was ready to seal the wound and, as expected, little Alfie became mesmerised by the little bubbles floating in front of his face, reaching out to touch them and even blowing some of his own as Ben painted the glue onto the edges of the wound and applied small sterile strips to cover it afterwards.

‘There. All done.’

The mother laughed. ‘He didn’t even notice!’

‘The power of soapy water.’

Ben cleared away his equipment.

‘Try and keep the wound dry for about five days and don’t let him scratch or pick at it. If it becomes red or swollen he’ll need to see a doctor—but you can go to your GP for that.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

‘My pleasure. You can take them all home again now.’

‘Thanks.’

They started to pack up all their belongings and he left the cubicle with Leah, who’d handed over the bubbles to Alfie to keep.

He sat down at the doctor’s desk to write up his notes. ‘Thanks for helping out.’

‘No problem at all.’

He looked at her. At how relaxed she was. ‘Kids seem to like you.’

‘I like kids.’

‘It shows.’ He began writing on Alfie’s patient file.

She tilted her head to one side. ‘But you don’t.’

It wasn’t a question. Clearly. And the statement made him feel uncomfortable.

People were meant to like kids, weren’t they? To be genetically predisposed to carry on the human race? That was the whole point to the continuation of the species. Kids were meant to be cute and wonderful, funny and lovable. What did it say about him that kids made him want to run away?

He sighed. ‘I don’t hate kids, per se.’

‘But?’

‘But... I didn’t have the greatest of childhoods, and neither did my brother and sister. Perhaps it’s not kids that I don’t like...just bad parents.’

She was silent for a moment whilst she digested that nugget he’d just provided.

He felt his cheeks colour at the intensity of her concentration and put down his pen and shrugged, knowing he had to explain. ‘I had to grow up really fast. Ten years old and I had to look after two younger kids whilst my parents slept or drank or got stoned. I had to cook for them, and clean up after them, and care for them when they got sick. My parents might have known how to make