‘She’s had quite a bit of time off school, though, hasn’t she?’
Ruth wonders how she’s got into this conversation. The social worker is making her feel quite defensive. She’s a fellow professional though. Ruth needs to trust her to keep relevant medical information confidential. ‘I know she’s had to have various appointments for tests, if that’s what you mean,’ Ruth continues. ‘I think there’s been some genuine concern, because her mother had multiple sclerosis. There’s a need to see if there’s any immunological link with Bella’s illnesses. But then, that should all be on her medical records.’ She hesitates then continues, ‘Obviously she’s not my patient but, if she was, I would say that there are legitimate medical reasons for her poor school attendance.’
Brenda nods. She stops scribbling in her notebook and instead picks up her tea.
‘That’s very helpful, Dr. Cooper. Thank you. Or may I call you Ruth? It’s been a while since I popped into Parkside. I used to come to the multi-disciplinary meetings every quarter.’ She smiles. ‘Work is far too busy these days.’ She leans forward clandestinely. ‘But as a GP you’ll know exactly what I mean.’
She drains her cup then packs her notebook and folder into her bag. ‘That was just what I needed,’ she says, smiling benignly. ‘Thank you very much.’ The chair legs grate on the floor as she stands up. ‘Now I better get going. I’ll look out for you at Parkside next time I pop in.’
23
Ruth
It must be four years since Ruth’s last visit to the children’s hospital but, as she walks down the main corridor with its toothpaste blue walls and carbolic smell, ambivalent recollections are stirred. As a junior doctor she would walk these deserted corridors at night, the sound of her theatre clogs rebounding off the cold stone floors. She recalls the fatigue she felt on weekends on-call. Often she was beyond sleep as she inserted cannulae through papery thin skin into the tiny veins of little babies. She smiles at the memory of a successful resuscitation or a positive intervention in a seriously ill child.
This evening visitors shuffle along the passages, some engaged in conversation, others with flat expressions, their thoughts internalised. Personnel wearing lanyards hurry past, dodging human obstacles, as if on a busy moving walkway at an airport.
She reaches the lift to Jubilee Ward but sidesteps it and bounds up the stairs clutching a toy kangaroo plus the comics, colouring books and crayons she had bought on the hospital concourse. As she approaches the ward for the under-twelves, the stark clinical ambience of the main corridor changes to one of bright cheerfulness. A mural of giraffes, elephants, lions and cheetahs leads visitors on a colourful safari to the ward entrance.
Ruth lifts her hand to press the intercom just as the door swings open. A woman emerges whom Ruth recognises but can’t quite place. Dark hair swept back into a ponytail. Collagen-filled lips. Leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. They exchange glances, then the young woman back-tracks and tugs at Ruth’s sleeve.
‘Dr. Cooper. It’s Bryony. Bryony Marsh. Elliot’s mum.’
Ruth stares at the young woman and is transported back to the turbulent scene of the Resuscitation room hours earlier.
‘Bryony. Yes. Of course.’ She scrutinises her face trying to gauge what she should say next. ‘How’s Elliot?’
The grip on Ruth’s arm gets tighter. ‘He’s had his lumbar puncture. You were right, Dr. Cooper.’ Her voice wavers. ‘They reckon that injection you gave him probably saved his life.’
Ruth squeezes Bryony’s arm. ‘That’s good news.’
Bryony releases the grasp and stands back a little.
‘I can’t thank you enough. The doctors say he’s not out of the woods yet but hopefully he’s on the mend.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Are you going onto the Ward? I can open the door for you.’
Ruth nods and Bryony turns to the keypad on the wall.
‘The code is K 259XZ. Save you waiting an age before someone answers.’
‘Thanks,’ says Ruth, ‘keep me posted, won’t you?’ She leans her shoulder against the heavy ward door, which swings open.
The soft light and muted noise of the ward exudes calm and Ruth looks round for the nurses’ station. There’s an office door open, and beyond it a young woman is hunched over a computer screen, but she looks up and smiles when Ruth taps gingerly on the wooden frame.
‘Excuse me,’ Ruth says, ‘I’m sorry to bother you but I’m looking for Isabella Peterson.’
The woman swings her chair round ninety degrees and appears to study Ruth’s face intently. A widening smile creases her face.
‘Ruth? Ruth Cooper! My God, it’s been ages.’ Her hands curl round the armrests of her chair as she levers herself up. ‘The last time I saw you was in the Union Bar. What the hell have you been up to since then?’
The woman’s eyes flash with a certain roguishness even though there’s a weariness about them. The shoulder-length brown hair has been replaced by a shorter bob, streaked with gold tints. Put her in ‘mufti’, in the greasy spoon cafe of the Students’ Union and her mate from Med School is instantly recognisable.
‘Sheena Walker,’ Ruth exclaims.
‘Henderson, now actually,’ her friend interjects.
‘How bloody good to see you!’
They hug and Sheena pulls up another chair.
‘So, what brings you here?’ asks Sheena. She leans back, looking her friend up and down.
‘I’m visiting Bella Peterson. Daughter of a friend of mine.’
‘Ah, yes, Bella’ nods Sheena, ‘the little girl in Cubicle 4. I admitted her this afternoon. She’s settled now. So you must spare me a few minutes for a catch up. I’m trying to remember the last time our paths crossed. Not since graduation probably?’
Ruth smiles. ‘The good old days, eh? Nine years. I can’t quite believe it.’
‘I know. What have you been up to since then?’
‘Oh God, where do I start? Did my GP rotation, including twelve months here in Sick Kids, then went off to Australia. Lasted about eighteen months in Melbourne then decided I missed the UK too much. I’ve been working as a salaried GP at Parkside for the past nine months. What about you?’
‘Specialist paediatric registrar. Decided to do Paeds after my elective at McGill in Montreal. The job here suits me perfectly. It’s half General Paeds and half on the Renal Unit. Got married last year too. Steve’s a specialist surgical registrar. So we’ve just got to hope that we can get consultant jobs not too far apart from each other when we’re ready to apply.’
Ruth nods, but feels a slight sinking sensation in her stomach at hearing about another contemporary’s wedded bliss. ‘Sounds good,’ she says. ‘And that reminds me. Remember Val Escott? I’ve linked up with her again, since coming back from Oz. Married. Just had her second baby. She works at Mulberry Lane Practice.’
‘Really? We must go out for a-’
Their conversation is interrupted by a loud double knock on the door and the soft timbre of a male voice. ‘Excuse me, I’m leaving now but I just wanted to say thank you for all your care this afternoon.’
Ruth wheels round at the sound of Dominic’s voice and their eyes lock.
They both mouth each other’s names but no words come out. Ruth looks at Sheena and gathers her belongings. ‘I better get going. See you again soon.’
‘For sure.’
Dominic edges back from the door, but catches Ruth’s hand as she brushes past him.
‘Ruth,’ he says, ‘I was going outside to ring you. I can’t get a damn signal on this phone.’
She squeezes his fingers. ‘That would explain why you haven’t returned any of my calls. How’s Bella?’
‘What were you doing in the office?’
Ruth feels flushed. ‘You’re not going to believe this,’ she says, smiling in an attempt to deflect the accusatory
tone. ‘I came up here to find you, and it turns out that the paediatric registrar is a girl I trained with.’
‘Really?’ His eyes flash with menace.
Bewilderment pricks her conscience. ‘Yes. I just had a quick catch up with her. Haven’t seen her for about nine years. How cool is that? But more to the point, tell me about Bella.’
‘She’s asleep now. She seems settled.’ His tone is flat.
‘I’ve brought some things for her,’ says Ruth, lifting up the toy kangaroo. ‘I figured she might be missing this.’
Dominic’s features soften. ‘Come with me, you can see her,’ he says, leading her by the hand. ‘You can leave it by her bed, then why don’t we go for a coffee?’
The door to Bella’s cubicle is wide open and they tip-toe inside. The curtain rail is drawn right back behind the head of the bed. Ruth gazes down at the small bundle engulfed under the large expanse of white, cellular blanket. Bella has her mouth open and is breathing in regular, quiet rasps. Damp tendrils of hair cling to either side of her face and her hand rests on a small teddy bear, her fingers curled loosely round its leg. Carefully Ruth places Roo beside Bella’s left shoulder, and deposits the books and crayons on the bedside cabinet. She looks at Dominic with a smile and they both retreat out of the room.
It feels odd to be sitting in the hospital canteen as a visitor, rather than a member of staff. Ruth listens to Dominic’s update as they sit at a table separated from other diners by a wooden trellis trailing fake vines.
‘The doctors have said Bella’s asthma is unstable. They’re going to keep her in for another forty eight hours or so.’
‘Have they said why she’s in a cubicle by herself?’
‘Yeah, I think it’s to keep her in isolation from infection.’
‘Really. Seems odd. Especially if they need to keep an eye on her.’ Ruth’s spoon chinks against the enamel of the coffee mug.
‘They’ve done some more blood tests. Still has a low white count, they told me. Doesn’t that make her more susceptible to infections?’
‘I guess so. Poor Bella. Listen, Dom. Do you want me to have a word with Sheena and get some more information?’
Dominic seems distracted. His expression has darkened, like a cloudy day, and the space between them feels weighted, like a shifting barometer before a storm. He buries his face in his hands for a few seconds. She leans over the table and strokes his hair but he jerks his head back. When he looks up, Ruth can see that his eyes are glistening.
‘No. There’s no need. She explained everything to me earlier.’ His voice trails away. ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. I’ve not been feeling my usual self recently.’
His usual self? What’s that? Polite? Charming? Caring? He’s all these things to her. But his mood has appeared volatile lately. She can’t recall the last time he laughed or shared a joke. He must be depressed. What about the alcohol she found in the house, the pills? Now’s not the time for confrontation. All she feels is an overwhelming sympathy. This is going to take patience and plenty of understanding.
‘It seems like you’re having to cope with an awful lot of things on your own, Dom.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You don’t have to. You can share things with me.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I mean it. Are you going to stay with Bella again tonight?’
‘The ward staff have said I can but I’m going home. I won’t sleep a wink in the recliner chair they’ve given me. Plus I have some urgent business to conduct in the morning. I’ll be back tomorrow. What are your plans for tomorrow?’
‘Work. As usual. But I can take time off, if it would help?’
Dominic gives a half-hearted smile. ‘Thanks. No need. As long as I can get hold of you on your phone.’
Guilt jabs her like the twist of a corkscrew. ‘I’ll make sure,’ she says, ‘and before I forget here are your keys.’ She pulls them out of her pocket and pushes them across the table. ‘That could have been awkward.’
‘Yeah. Except Courtney has a spare key. I suppose I could have rung her as a backup.’
‘Courtney? Your babysitter?’
‘Yes.’
‘I met her coming out your house earlier. She looked so worried, poor girl.’
Dominic shoots her a look. ‘Yeah. It’s more complicated than you think.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She called round to see me because she’d had another row with her boyfriend. She thought maybe I could have a word with him. Intervene somehow.’ He clicks his tongue against his teeth. ‘Not sure that I have any influence there. Anyway, events soon overtook us, with Bella.’
Ruth flinches. This doesn’t exactly chime with what Courtney had told her. But then she was hardly likely to confide in her on their first meeting, was she? ‘That reminds me,’ she says. ‘You had a visitor after you left.’
‘I did?’
‘Yeah. A social worker. Said you should have been expecting her.’
Dominic averts his eyes for a second. ‘First I’ve heard of it. Why would I be needing a social worker?’
Ruth shrugs her shoulders. ‘I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.’
A young girl in a cap and apron approaches their table and they both lean back as she takes their cups away, lifts up a spider plant on the table and wipes the vinyl top clean.
Dominic clears his throat. ‘Bella’s been off school a lot recently. I wonder if that’s anything to do with it.’ He strokes his chin. ‘The trouble with the bloody authorities,’ he continues, ‘is that nobody really understands. They’re just a bunch of jobsworths.’ His posture stiffens. ‘Anyway, I’m just going to call back in on the ward before I go home. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’
‘Keep me posted, Dom. Ring me in the morning,’ urges Ruth, as they both stand up and manoeuvre their chairs under the table. ‘I’m here for you.’ She comes round the table to his side and reaches up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Sleep well, my darling. Hope Bella’s better in the morning.’
24
Dominic
There are three people before Dominic in the queue for the front desk. They form a chain, keeping a respectful distance behind one another, although the roped chrome posts offer no acoustic barrier. The man at the front of the line has his arm outstretched and is jabbing his finger forward, as his voice rises in indignation. Dominic cranes his neck as the receptionist shakes her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, ‘but unless it’s an absolute emergency the first appointment is next Monday morning.’ Now it’s the man’s turn to shake his head. He buttons his coat, turns up his collar and skulks away. An elderly woman shuffles forward and Dom follows suit. Raindrops from his upturned umbrella puddle on the floor as he waits his turn. Eventually the way is clear and he steps up to the desk.
‘Morning, Sharon,’ he says. ‘Busy at the coalface, as usual, I see. Thank you very much for finding me an appointment at short notice. Sorry I had to cancel yesterday.’ He lowers his voice. ‘My daughter was rushed into hospital.’ He waits until the flicker of concern passes over the receptionist’s face like a shifting cloud. ‘She’s out of the woods though. All being well she should be home tomorrow.’ He glances over his shoulder. The queue behind him is mounting. ‘Anyway, thought you and the girls might be in need of some sustenance on your coffee break.’ He lifts up a wet carrier bag and deposits it on the counter.
The receptionist’s features soften as she glimpses the foil wrappers of chocolate biscuits. ‘Mr. Peterson, you know that’s not necessary,’ she says, standing up and taking ownership of the carrier bag, ‘but thank you, it’s much appreciated.’ Her cheeks colour slightly. ‘If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.’
Dominic follows a trail of muddy footprints into the stuffy waiting room. It’s packed, and several people shuffle their chairs sideways so tha
t he has enough space to sit down. He squeezes in between an elderly gentleman, who leans forward with both his knotted hands resting on the crook of his walking stick, and an obese woman, whose brassy hair is scraped back off her face and piled into a tight doughnut on the top of her head. The air has a muggy quality, a damp animal smell. A snotty-nosed toddler brushes against his knee.
‘Careful, Tyler,’ says the woman on his right. ‘Watch what you’re doing.’
A hush descends again until Dominic becomes aware of a soft rasping wheeze from the old man, punctuated every few minutes with a rattling expectoration, like the sound of a bin lorry being emptied. Dominic turns away from him and looks down at the blue-speckled carpet. He thinks about the letter that arrived yesterday. His mother. Why now? She’d been absent while Madeleine was ill and didn’t show up for the funeral. A change of heart, she had said, let’s make a fresh start. The spidery scrawl also indicated that she was coming over to the UK next month. I miss my granddaughter, she said. I want to be part of her life. The hair on the back of his neck prickles. That wouldn’t be the real reason, of course. Oh no. She must be in debt again. This could be tricky. He’ll have to engineer it so that she doesn’t meet Ruth. Such bad timing. Just as he was getting to know Ruth better. He sighs. It feels so good to be back in a physical relationship again. The heat of another body nuzzling his. Warm breath in his ear. The yield of her soft skin. So comforting. The fact that she was a doctor was an added bonus. A walking medical compendium.
The buzzer goes. Doughnut-hair woman stands up and weaves across the waiting room, instructing Tyler to come with her.
Dominic looks at the illuminated display, then at his watch. Dr. Baranska is running ten minutes late. He takes out his phone and taps the screen for the Financial Times. He turns to the Lex column but his eyes are drawn to the headline about Lucky Pagoda. The Formula 1 merger looks to be going ahead. Gary Sharp was right. Hadn’t Mike predicted this? He’s going to have to move quickly to make his investment. He spends the next ten minutes checking his stocks and shares then sends Gary a text just as the buzzer goes and his name lights up on the LED display: Dominic Peterson to Room 6.
Love Until It Hurts Page 12
