Love Until It Hurts

by Fiona Blakemore

  31

  Ruth

  Ruth accompanies Dominic to the hospital, following the ambulance through the neon-lit, rain-sodden streets. It speeds through the town centre, adeptly dodging revellers who spill out of pubs into the queues for nightclubs, until it draws up outside the illuminated entrance to the Accident and Emergency Department.

  Left alone to her thoughts, while Dominic is in the Resuscitation room with his daughter, the main waiting area reminds her, bizarrely, of an all-night ferry crossing she had once taken. The hemmed-in petrol blue walls. The smell of cleaning fluid. Semi-somnolent people shifting on uncomfortable chairs. Relatives trudging up and down to vending machines. Someone throwing up into a cardboard container in the corner.

  Eventually a young doctor ushers her into a curtained-off cubicle, where Dominic sits. The doctor tells her that Bella has had a lumbar puncture but is now sleeping peacefully and has been transferred up to the Children’s Ward. He wants to hear Ruth’s first-hand account of what happened.

  Looking at the young man who sits opposite her, earnestly taking notes as she speaks, she’s reminded of her life as a junior doctor. He’s probably been on duty since yesterday morning and, no doubt, isn’t clocking off till Monday. She can’t help but feel sorry for him. All the same, despite the hour and the queue of patients waiting, he insists on going through the history in meticulous detail.

  Bella seemed well during the day, she explains, and had settled for the evening on the sofa bed in Ruth’s study. She’s unsure how much detail to give, but explains that she had gone upstairs, looking for some photos to show her friends. When she reached the top of the stairs she could hear a noise, which sounded like Bella snoring, so she decided to check on her. Instinctively she knew things weren’t right as soon as she entered the room. A wedge of light from the landing outlined a thrashing of bedclothes. Flicking on the light she saw Bella, foaming at the mouth and in the throes of a grand mal convulsion. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, and her arms and legs exhibited jerky movements, like a rag doll being tossed on a trampoline.

  ‘Why didn’t you call for help straight away?’ the doctor asks, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Why? She has asked herself the same question several times while sitting in the waiting room. She thinks carefully before formulating an answer.

  ‘Probably because I went into automatic professional mode,’ she replies. ‘You know what I mean? Checking Bella’s airway was protected until she stopped convulsing. I couldn’t leave her on her own till then.’ Ruth looks at the doctor for a reaction but he remains silent and impassive, so she continues. ‘As soon as she stopped shaking I placed her in the recovery position then quickly scanned her arms and legs for any sign of a rash.’

  The doctor listens, prompting her at regular intervals to add more precise detail, causing Dominic to interrupt, ‘No she hasn’t had a fever today,’ ‘yes, she had a recent admission with asthma’, ‘unfortunately she’s been beset with several urinary tract infections recently.’ Eventually he thanks them both and advises that Bella will be having more tests tomorrow.

  Back in the corridor Dominic guides Ruth by the arm.

  ‘I’ll take you home, then I’ll pick up a few things and get a taxi back to the hospital. I’m staying here tonight.’

  Ruth can sense his agitation, can feel his distress. She squeezes his arm. In her head three letters keep repeating themselves. ‘SLE, SLE, SLE.’

  ‘Dominic, I never mentioned my theory. I should have said something to the doctor about SLE. I need to go back.’

  With his arm round her shoulder he navigates round the puddle-pocked car park until they find their car.

  ‘Plenty of time for that tomorrow, darling. Let’s see how Bella is in the morning.’

  Ruth taps K259XZ onto the keypad and enters the ward.

  The familiar silhouette of Sheena, bending over a trolley, can be seen in the office, her fingers walking over the spines of notes. Ruth taps lightly on the door and walks in.

  ‘Morning, Sheena.’

  The doctor looks up, and registers recognition, but there is something about her countenance which, to Ruth, suggests her being caught unawares.

  ‘Ah, Ruth. The very person. I’ve just been talking about you with my consultant.’

  ‘You have?’

  Sheena puts down her file and moves towards her.

  ‘We wondered if we could have a chat with you about Bella? The little girl who came in last night with a convulsion? Her father has given us your details as an emergency contact. You’re a family friend, aren’t you?’

  Ruth feels her cheeks colouring. ‘I know Bella’s father very well.’

  Sheena smiles, and there’s an unspoken understanding in her eyes.

  ‘Well, have you got a minute? I’m just going to bleep my consultant.’

  ‘Sure.’

  As she is talking Ruth’s eye-line is drawn to the monitor over Sheena’s left shoulder. An image comes into view over the television screen, grainy but instantly recognisable. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair, which flops over his face as he bends forward. It’s Dominic. He’s leaning over a little figure in the bed, which must be Bella.

  Sheena has turned her back to Ruth now and is on the phone asking for Dr. Elmahdy. Ruth concentrates on the monitor, waiting to see if it changes to a different angle of the ward. It doesn’t.

  ‘Right,’ says Sheena, wheeling round. Their eyes meet and it’s obvious that Sheena has noticed Ruth looking at the screen. ‘She’s just on her way.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll just pop out onto the ward and let Dominic know I’m here.’

  Sheena edges closer and touches Ruth’s arm.

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you, she’ll be here any minute now. And it’s probably best if we have a chat in private first.’

  Ruth feels sick as she taps on the door and walks into Bella’s cubicle. She can’t decide if it’s anxiety or a justifiable disruption of her physiology. Her period is now three days late. However the knot of unease in her stomach tightens further when she is greeted with a smile from Bella. Her conversation with Shaba Elmahdy has unsettled her. It makes her question her convictions as a doctor. Surely she had proved her competency by managing Elliott Tremayne appropriately? Why did the paediatricians doubt Ruth’s theory of systemic lupus erythematosus with Bella?

  ‘Ruthie!’ exclaims Bella.

  Dominic looks up from his newspaper. His face folds into a smile.

  ‘Ruth. Good timing.’ He stands up and pecks her on the cheek. ‘Mike has been trying to get hold of me urgently. I need to go out and make some phone calls.’

  ‘Hey, Bella,’ says Ruth, her arms outstretched. ‘Give me a hug.’ She squeezes the little girl and turns to Dominic. ‘So, how’s it all going?’

  Dominic pulls up a chair for her. ‘Here have a seat and I can give you a quick update.’

  Ruth unzips her shoulder bag and brings out a brightly-coloured booklet which she hands over to Bella. ‘Look what I brought for you,’ she says.

  Bella clambers over the bedclothes, her cheeks shiny and pink. ‘A sticker book,’ she exclaims and takes it from Ruth’s hands.

  ‘Someone’s much brighter today,’ says Ruth, and she sits down and twists sideways to give Dominic her full attention.

  ‘The lumbar puncture last night was normal,’ begins Dominic, ‘as were the blood cultures. So hopefully it was a one-off. The consultant, Shaba Elmahdy, has been round this morning and she wants to keep Bella in for a few more days, though, because she needs an EEG and a brain scan.’ His voice exudes control. ‘I asked her if Bella has had auto-immune profiling done,’ he continues. ‘She said she had, but when I pushed her to clarify that, it turns out she’s been tested for anti-nuclear factor, but not anti-phospholipid antibodies.’

  ‘Gosh,’ says Ruth. ‘Good for you. I wish I’d been
there. I’d liked to have seen her face.’ Ruth is impressed at Dominic’s grasp of terminology. She’s glad she’s been able to help.

  ‘The things is,’ says Dominic, his eyes narrowing a fraction, ‘I have this theory. I think the steroid treatment that Bella had for her asthma has masked the progression of her disease.’ He sits back and pauses, as if deliberating over his words. ‘That’s why it’s proving difficult to make a diagnosis. I think SLE is a real possibility. You’ve been so helpful, darling.’

  Ruth nods. ‘You’re welcome.’ She smiles. ‘I take my hat off to you, Dr. Dominic.’ She turns to Bella. ‘Okay, so you’re not quite ready to come home yet, sweetie pie, but I’m pleased you’re better. How about I spend some time with you now, whilst Daddy does his phone calls?’

  ‘Can we play a game?’ The liquid blue eyes seek out her agreement.

  ‘Of course we can. What would you like to play?’ She scans the room, as if looking for ideas, but her eyes drift up to corners of the ceiling, to the smoke detector, to the monitors above Bella’s bed. She wonders where the camera is located.

  ‘Snap?’ says Bella.

  ‘Good idea,’ replies Ruth. ‘I love playing games.’

  32

  Ruth

  Ruth turns over in bed. She feels Dominic shift until his hand comes to rest on her thigh. A few minutes later a soft nasal rhythm occupies the space between them again. She lies in the darkness, her worries internalised. The nausea, the sickness, the dizzy spells. Yesterday she’d pulled into a layby on one of her home visits when her vision temporarily blurred. It can’t be an infection. No raised temperature. No diarrhoea. In fact she’d been constipated for a few days instead. What was her body trying to tell her? If her period doesn’t come by the weekend she’ll do another pregnancy test. When is she going to tell Dominic? What would it achieve? Besides he’s got more than enough to worry about with Bella.

  She thinks about her conversation with the paediatricians today. The repartee had been friendly and light-hearted to begin with, as Shaba Elmahdy entreated her to pull up a chair, then spoke to her in her ‘I’ve heard it all before, you can tell me anything’ sort of voice. As her questions became more intrusive-‘What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Bella’s father?’ Ruth found herself becoming increasingly defensive. It’s a question she has asked herself repeatedly since. Sometimes the closer she gets to Dominic, the more conflicted she feels. It’s as if there’s something else going on, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.

  Her theory about SLE seemed to hold little weight with her paediatric colleagues. All Bella’s tests had been clear. ‘Surely it’s not such a clear cut picture in children,’ she argued. Shaba conceded a little by agreeing that an EEG and brain scan would be more conclusive, but Ruth still felt piqued. That’s when she decided to challenge them about the possibility that Dominic was being monitored. It didn’t escape her notice that, at this point, Sheena and Shaba exchanged quick glances. She wanted to say, ‘I’m a professional too, please treat me like one,’ but she hadn’t. ‘Safety is our paramount concern,’ Shaba countered, fixing her with hooded eyes, ‘and we have CCTV throughout the hospital, not just on the children’s ward.’

  But why keep Bella in hospital? EEGs and brain scans can be done as an outpatient. She’s overthinking things again. Time to practice her mindfulness. Feeling the weight of her body she lets go of her thoughts. She adjusts her position until she can feel Dominic’s warm breath in her hair. He murmurs something into the pillow and she lifts his hand and brings it up, so that it cups her breast. Then they lie, like spoons, until the trill of a blackbird breaks the silence.

  The chime of the alarm sears through their slumber. Ruth rolls over, with a frayed sense of wakefulness. She groans.

  ‘So much for setting the alarm early so I could go for a run before work. I’m exhausted.’

  Dominic’s arm reaches over her shoulder.

  ‘You didn’t sleep well. You were fidgeting all night.’

  ‘I know, Dom. So were you. I’ve been mulling things over in my mind.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘So many things. About me. About you. But mostly about Bella.’ She props herself up on her elbow. ‘Dominic, have the medics asked you anything about me?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘About our relationship.’

  ‘No.’ His hand seeks out hers in the darkness. ‘Why?’

  Ruth hesitates, weighing up whether what she’s about to say is a good idea. ‘I’m just a bit wary, that’s all. I have a feeling they might be monitoring us.’

  Suddenly Dominic sits up in bed and snaps on the bedside light. His eyes flash with indignation. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’

  ‘They seem intent on keeping Bella in hospital for a long time, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll ask to speak to the consultant when I go in today. I’m not standing for any of this nonsense.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that,’ says Ruth, immediately regretting disclosing her concerns. ‘Maybe it would be better to be patient. A few more days won’t do any harm, and it gives you and me a chance to spend more time together.’ She lifts up her hand and gently strokes his hair. His features visibly relax.

  Leaning over him she switches off the light and sinks back down in the bed. She bites her lip. She was going to ask him about his father’s death too, about the fact that he’d told her his father died of cirrhosis but Val mentioned it was cancer. Now is not the time.

  They lie side by side. A filmy light filters through the curtains, shifting the shadows on the walls.

  ‘But, seeing as you’ve mentioned it, this might be as good a time as any to ask you something,’ he says.

  ‘Go on.’

  Dominic’s hand squeezes tighter. ‘I’ve been worrying about what might happen to Bella, if anything happened to me.’

  ‘That’s only natural, Dom. But nothing’s going to happen to you.’

  ‘Maybe. But she’s got no near relatives. Apart from my mother. And I wouldn’t exactly call her near.’

  ‘Okay.’ Ruth wonders where this conversation is going.

  ‘Darling, would it be okay if I named you as Bella’s next of kin?’

  Ruth stifles a gasp. This was not what she’d expected. She loves Bella. But she’s only known her for a few months. Would she really be prepared to take on that responsibility? But she’s prepared to get pregnant, isn’t she? Her throat constricts with emotion. She swallows but can’t prevent the tide of emotion swelling in her chest. Turning her face into the pillow, she lies motionless, until she sniffs away her tears.

  ‘Talk to me, darling.’ Dominic is stroking her head, twisting strands of hair round his finger.

  She can’t keep it to herself anymore. She decides to tell him. That more than anything she wants a child. That she had a miscarriage when she was in Australia. And the fact that she couldn’t tell anyone about it at the time. ‘I even told work I had flu,’ she says, ‘because it was taboo.’ He hears about Mark, and the pain she felt on uncovering his deceit. ‘You never think it’s going to happen to you,’ she says, burying her head in the pillow.

  ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he says. ‘You’ve got me. And you’ve got Bella.’

  She turns round to face him.

  ‘We’ve got each other,’ she says, through her watery smile. ‘Of course I’ll be Bella’s guardian.’

  She pulls him close, guiding him into her, with a wordless urgency. She can feel the dip in his stomach, as he presses against her abdomen, then her arms move up and her fingers thread through his hair. As they move against each other, skin to skin, it is as if their anxieties are being pushed into another space. He groans softly, and they fall apart, in a tangle of limbs.

  33

  Dominic

  June 2005

  The workshop reception a
rea is deserted. Dominic strikes the bell on the counter. Through the glass behind the till he can see his car. It’s above head height, on a ramp. Not a good sign. He tries the bell again. A spotty youth appears, clutching an oily rag.

  ‘Ah, Mr. Peterson,’ he says, wiping his hands on his overall. ‘Not quite ready for you yet. Maybe another ten, fifteen minutes. Just need to check the wheel alignment, then I’m done. Help yourself to a coffee. I’ll be as quick as I can.’ He disappears before Dominic has a chance to reply.

  Ten to three. He’d hoped to be home by three. At least Courtney had agreed to collect Bella from school, although he’d tried to be at the school gates every day since Bella was discharged from hospital. He needed to keep up appearances. Show them he was a devoted dad.

  Courtney seemed to have forgiven him too. Hadn’t she moved on and found herself a new boyfriend?

  He glances round the waiting area with its teal blue walls and shabby chequered linoleum. By the window there’s a coffee machine and, adjoining this, a row of vinyl chairs. A television is mounted high on the opposite wall, its volume muted, headlines scrolling across the lower part of the screen about London’s bid for the Olympic Games.

  He walks over to the window. From here he has a good view of the High Street. Maybe he should go to a coffee shop over the road. There’s a woman coming out of the one opposite and her raincoat is strikingly familiar. Navy with white polka dots. He squints for a better look at her. Courtney. Surely she can’t have forgotten about collecting Bella? She’s with a man who clutches her arm as they walk down the street but he’s partially obscured by a black and white golf umbrella. Curious. Is this the boyfriend she’s always talking about? The one who is quick to start arguments?

  Dominic pours himself a coffee and sends a text:

  Just checking you’re still ok to collect Bella? Car having MOT. Back shortly

  The reply is instant:

  On my way. See you later.