The Surgeon's Family Wish (13 page)

The children were arriving by the ambulance load, Annabel thought as emergency routines were put in place. The wailing of fretful children filled the air.

Rehydration therapy was being applied to those only mildly affected in the form of liquids only for twenty-four hours, while babies and children more poorly were receiving fluid replacement intravenously.

For baby Charlene there was deep concern. Both Aaron and Annabel had examined her and agreed that there were signs of blood poisoning. When the bacterium escaped into the blood, septicaemia could occur and the baby was in a serious condition.

She was alternating between high fever and chills, slipping in and out of consciousness, and was jaundiced. Glucose and antibiotics were immediately given intravenously and she was transferred to Intensive Care.

The source of the bacterium would be pinpointed by a culture grown in the laboratory but it would take time and in the interval the doctors would be on the alert for septic shock which could kill.

Meanwhile, the nursery would have been closed down and checked over by health inspectors. There seemed little doubt that it was the source of the infection and whether it had been caused by accident or negligence, there was trouble ahead for those running it.

Charlene's mother was a teenager, already overburdened
with the responsibilities of motherhood and now rigid with fear on her baby's behalf.

‘We are doing all we can to save Charlene,' Aaron told her gently as she wept by the cot. ‘How long is it since she became ill?'

‘She started last night,' the young mother sobbed. ‘I was up with her all the time. This morning my mum said best take her to Casualty and they sent her here. It's that nursery, isn't it? I had to take her there because I have to work and so does my mum. Have you got kids?'

‘Yes. I have,' he told her gravely. ‘I have a daughter and she almost died not long ago.' His eyes were on Annabel, walking briskly down the ward towards them. ‘So I know what you are going through. Why not go and have a cup of tea while Dr Swain and I take care of Charlene?'

‘All right,' she agreed reluctantly. ‘But you'll call me if she needs me, won't you?'

‘Of course,' he agreed, and as Annabel joined him he said sombrely, ‘It's not her mum this little one is going to need. She needs a miracle.'

A
S THEY
stood looking down on the baby Annabel's face was grave. She prayed there would be no need for amputation. But if gangrene developed in the extremities it might be the only way to save the infant's life.

It would depend on how quickly the antibiotics began to work and the results of the culture, as the medication might have to be changed according to what the bacterium was identified as.

Aaron was reading her thoughts.

‘It's wait-and-see time,' he said soberly. ‘I wouldn't want to wish that on you.'

‘I've amputated before and will no doubt do it again if it saves a child's life,' she said with equal seriousness, ‘but never on such a small one. How old is she? Ten? Eleven weeks?'

The mother was back and they dredged up smiles. No point in putting that horrendous burden onto her young shoulders yet, Annabel thought. It would be time enough if it turned out that they hadn't managed to halt the blood poisoning.

* * *

That night she couldn't sleep. She'd told the night staff to call her if there was any worsening of the baby's condition, and she found herself listening for the sound of her bleeper.

Added to her concern and a cause for sleeplessness on its own merits were those moments with Aaron in
the hospital garden. He'd been tender and caring and she'd started to hope again.

The influx of sick children had pushed the memory of it to the back of her mind, but now it was there again, clear and comforting, and as her thoughts wrestled between anxiety and pleasure the night wore on.

In his bed in the house at the other side of town Aaron was doing no better. As he tossed and turned in a half-doze he was dreaming about telling the young mother what they were going to have to do to save her baby, and every time he flung his arm across the empty space beside him the picture changed and Annabel was there, holding out her arms and smiling.

At two o'clock he'd had enough. Padding into Lucy's room he looked down at his daughter sleeping peacefully and sent up a prayer of thanks. Then, seeing a crack of light coming from under his mother's bedroom door, he tapped gently and went in.

She was reading, as he'd expected her to be. A poor sleeper, she often whiled away the night hours with a book.

‘What is it?' she asked, peering at him over the top of her glasses.

‘I'm popping out for a while,' he told her. ‘I want to check on the baby I was telling you about.'

She nodded. ‘I was expecting it.'

* * *

As Annabel pulled on trousers and sweater and reached for her warm sheepskin jacket, she was telling herself she was crazy. There had been no call from the night staff. No emergency with regard to Charlene. Yet she still couldn't settle.

It was only a short walk from the flat to the main hospital entrance and as she strode out into the night she
looked up. Snow was falling, soft, white and fast. A reminder that Aaron was waiting to hear if she'd changed her mind about sharing Christmas with them.

A silver moon was lighting the pathways and gardens surrounding the hospital and her heartbeat quickened. It was a magical sight, the soft flakes falling to earth beneath its rays and not a soul in sight—until the main entrance came into view and then it was a different picture. Ambulances coming and going. People moving around. Reminders that illness and accidents were not just events of the day.

When she reached Intensive Care she saw a tall figure bending over Charlene's cot in the shadowed ward and her step slowed. It was either a staff member, an intruder, the baby's absent father or, as he turned at the sound of her footsteps, someone else who'd found sleep hard to come by.

‘What are
you
doing here?' Aaron asked softly.

‘The same as you, I imagine. I couldn't sleep and thought I'd pop across to check on the baby.'

‘She's going to make it, I think,' he said, his voice lifting. ‘Her fever is subsiding. I've been having nightmares about telling that young mother of hers we would have to amputate. Thank goodness she's improving.'

‘Where is her mother?'

‘Dozing in the waiting room next door. The poor kid is exhausted.'

‘No father on the scene yet?'

‘No. Probably some macho man teenager. Old enough to make her pregnant but lacking the maturity to face up to his responsibilities.'

She'd known someone like that herself, Annabel thought, not ready to face up to his responsibilities, and
he
wasn't a teenager. But she didn't want depressing
thoughts intruding into this moment. Charlene wasn't out of danger yet, but she was certainly better and, taking his hand in hers, she said, ‘Let's go and tell her mum.'

They had a cup of tea with the night nurses and chatted for a while then, after checking on the baby again, they made their way outside into the enchanted night.

‘I'll walk you home,' he said, ‘and come back for my car when I've seen you safely inside.'

She didn't argue. For once they were in harmony. Tired as she was, she didn't want the night to end. The snow was still falling steadily and bending to scoop up a handful she found that Aaron had had the same idea. As she tossed it at him he was ready for her and that started it. For the next half-hour they pelted each other until, glowing from the exertion, they collapsed outside the flats.

‘Are you coming in?' she gasped.

He'd seen the invitation in her eyes and said laughingly, ‘Don't tempt me. Although I do have an excuse for stripping off... I'm soaked to the skin. But I've never indulged in casual sex, Annabel, and it's the last thing I'd want with you.'

He was getting to his feet and brushing the snow off, and she desperately wanted him to stay. But he'd just cut her down to size, hadn't he? Hinting that, whatever
she
did in her relationships,
he
had his standards. And that was with him only knowing part of her situation.

‘I'll see you shortly,' he called over his shoulder as he trudged off. ‘It's five o'clock already and I might have to dig the car out.'

* * *

It was three days later and most of the children suffering from the salmonella outbreak had gone home. The culture had confirmed that the bacterium had come from a
dairy product and once the source had been identified normal routine had been restored at the nursery, although not all the children had gone back as some parents had lost confidence in it.

Charlene was progressing well and all the staff were delighted to see her getting better, including the two doctors who had paid her a nocturnal visit and ended up wet and breathless in the snow.

‘How's Lucy liking the snow?' Annabel asked one day, when she and Aaron had a moment to spare.

‘She loves it, needless to say,' he said with a smile. ‘Like someone else I know. My mother couldn't understand where all my wet clothes had come from the next morning. I hope it lasts until Christmas. And talking of Christmas, are you going to change your mind? It's the time of year when Lucy misses her mother most, I miss my wife the most and my mother misses my dad the most. Having you with us would make all the difference.'

Annabel was observing him in surprise. ‘So you didn't invite me because I was a lost soul?'

‘Of course not. Admittedly, I didn't want to think of you being alone, but it was for our sakes too that I asked you to stay with us.'

‘Well, I might be able to fill the mother spot if Lucy will let me. The wife vacancy I don't think exists as far as you are concerned, and I don't think your mother would want me to wear a shirt and tie to fill the gap your father left. But if you really want me, I'll come. I'm sorry to have messed you about.'

‘That's great,' he said quietly. ‘And maybe over Christmas we'll get the chance to discuss the ‘‘wife vacancy'', as you describe it.'

* * *

She'd bought Aaron a piece of amethyst crystal for Christmas. It was his birth stone and as she'd wrapped the beautiful shard that time and nature had created, she'd never felt more alive.

She had chosen it with loving care, taking no heed of the cost. Her wish was to please him, to give him something that he would cherish as part of the exciting present instead of the sad past.

Because in recent days, ever since they'd frolicked in the snow, the present
had
become exciting and full of promise. It had been a mistake to think Aaron was obsessed with what was gone. Annabel could feel it in her bones that they were back on track.

In a week it would be Christmas and now she had no doubts about where she wanted to be during that time. Expecting it to be a non-event, she'd volunteered to be on call over the holiday and there was no way she would want to change that, but hopefully she might not be needed and if she was, she would be with the one person who would understand.

There was just one blot on the horizon. Christmas with Aaron and his family was due to start with a party on Christmas Eve. She would move in with them in the afternoon and stay until the day after Boxing Day. But on the day before that he sought her out and, observing her apologetically, said, ‘I thought I'd better mention that my mother has invited Nicola to tomorrow night's party. She felt that we owe her for the interest she's taken in Lucy and for her concern when the accident happened, and of course we do.'

In her new-found happiness Annabel smiled.

‘So what? It's your house, your party, I don't mind who you invite as long as you are there.'

His expression cleared and he said with a smile of his own, ‘You can depend on that.'

But when he'd gone it hadn't stopped her from wishing that Nicola hadn't been invited, with her cloying, coquettish ways.

* * *

In keeping with the new purpose in her life, Annabel had bought lots of new clothes—evening wear, day wear and lingerie. As she packed a small case on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, there was colour in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes.

The suit of smooth cream wool she'd chosen to wear until it was time for the party clung to the soft curves that had come back with her new vitality, and she hoped that Aaron would notice.

* * *

Mary opened the door to her, with Lucy hovering by her side, and if there had been any chill left in her heart their welcome would have taken it away.

‘Come in my dear,' Mary said as she hugged her to her and Lucy grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

‘Aaron won't be a moment,' his mother said. ‘He's been at the hospital all morning and is upstairs getting changed. He tells me that you're on call over the holiday. It's a pity that Mark Lafferty couldn't fill the slot. He has no family commitments like the others.'

‘I
did
volunteer,' Annabel reminded her, ‘and I also have no family commitments.'

Mary laughed.

‘We'll have to see what we can do about that, then, won't we?' And the two women exchanged companionable smiles.

When Aaron came out of the bathroom Annabel was
across the landing, unpacking her case and generally settling into the guest room.

As he padded across the landing draped in a towel he saw her through the open door and stopped.

‘So you've arrived,' he said buoyantly. ‘Did Mum tell you I've only just got back from the hospital?'

She nodded. ‘Problems?'

‘Aren't there always? But they're sorted. Christmas is upon us and you look beautiful. If I wasn't all damp I would follow that comment up physically, but I don't think you'd want your suit wet, would you?'