‘Gemma, hello. It’s me.’ There was definitely no mistake. It was Stephen all right. There was no mistaking that voice.
‘Stephen, this is a surprise.’ Sinking down onto the stairs, she tried desperately to keep her voice casual. It would never do for him to have so much as an inkling of the effect he had on her even from the other end of a phone line.
‘I thought you’d like to know about Tristan.’
‘Tristan—is he all right?’ Suddenly she found herself fearing the worst.
‘Yes, he’s fine,’ Stephen replied. ‘The transplant went well—Mr Van Haelfen was very satisfied. Tristan is now in ITU with his relieved but exhausted mother. The next forty-eight hours will, of course, be critical, with risk of rejection, but we’re all very optimistic. I just thought you’d like to know, Gemma, as you seemed to have so much involvement with Tristan.’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Well, thank you, Stephen—thanks for letting me know. I intended ringing Intensive Care before I went to bed…’ She didn’t know what else to say, suddenly finding herself completely at a loss for words with this man who had once meant the whole world to her.
‘I know you said that’s what you’d do—just thought I’d save you the trouble. Was that your mother who answered the phone?’ he went on.
‘Yes. Yes, it was.’ Gemma paused. ‘Are you still at work?’ she asked after a moment.
‘Yes, I’m actually about to leave.’
‘Right. Well, I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I was helping Mum to clear up.’
‘She sounded nice—your mum.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Gemma agreed.
‘But, then, she would be, with a daughter like you.’
This was moving onto dangerous ground. ‘I must go, Stephen,’ she said quickly, ‘but thank you, thank you very much for letting me know about Tristan—I was wondering how it went.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said softly.
‘Yes, all right. See you tomorrow. Bye, Stephen.’
‘Goodnight, Gemma.’
She replaced the receiver and stood up, only to find that her knees felt incredibly weak. Slowly she walked back to the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the sink, wiping down the draining-board, but she turned as Gemma came into the room.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ Gemma nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘So was it work?’ asked Jill. It was obvious she was curious and wanted to know more.
‘Yes, Stephen is a registrar on our unit—he phoned to tell me that the heart and lung transplant I was telling you about went very well.’
‘Well, that was nice of him.’ Jill turned back to the sink. ‘Registrars don’t normally do that, do they?’ she added casually.
‘Do what?’
‘Phone after hours about things like that.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I guess they don’t.’
Jill was silent for a moment then she wrung out the dishcloth, opened it out and folded it before draping it over the taps and turning back to face Gemma. ‘This registrar,’ she said, ‘was it by any chance the same one you felt could be trouble—the one whose arrival gave you a funny turn?’
Gemma stared at Jill. ‘Er…yes,’ she said at last. ‘Actually, yes, it was.’
‘Didn’t sound as if he’s going to be that much of a problem, him thinking of you like that…’
‘It was only because I was so involved with the care of this particular patient, that’s all. He knew I would be wondering how things had gone.’
‘Well, I think that was very thoughtful—he sounds friendly.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Gemma gave a quick gesture, impatient now to change the subject. ‘Besides, I’m not sure it would be healthy to encourage friendship with registrars and their like.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. They’re only human, aren’t they? Besides, I worry about you, Gemma.’
‘Why?’ Gemma frowned. ‘There’s no need—I’m fine.’
‘Maybe. But, darling you don’t seem to have many friends that I know off—you hardly go out at all.’
‘I have Kim,’ Gemma protested. ‘She’s been a good friend.’
‘Yes, I know but—’
‘And if you’re that worried about me going out—there’s a party at the weekend.’
‘Oh? Will you go? You know I’ll have Daisy.’
‘Thanks.’ She nodded. ‘I thought I might. It’s at Alex’s parents’ house—you remember me mentioning Alex? Apparently it’s rather a lovely place on the bank of the Thames.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Jill encouragingly. ‘It’s time you had a bit of fun in your life again.’
‘Barbara, how are you feeling?’ Gemma smiled down at Barbara McCleary who had just been brought back to the ward from the Intensive Care unit following her replacement valve surgery.
‘A bit groggy.’ Barbara managed a weak smile.
‘But probably better than you did yesterday.’
‘Actually, I don’t remember much about yesterday,’ Barbara admitted.
‘How is the pain this morning?’ asked Gemma, picking up the medication chart from the foot of the bed and studying it.
‘Not too bad.’
‘Your notes from Theatre say that your operation went very well,’ said Gemma after a moment.
‘Yes,’ Barbara replied. ‘The surgeon came to see me and told me he’d fitted me with an artificial replacement valve.’ She paused. ‘I was wondering, Nurse,’ she went on after a moment. ‘Do you think someone could help me to wash my hair before my husband comes in? I feel such a mess.’
‘I’ll have a word with Brenda Jones,’ Gemma told her. ‘She’s one of our care assistants—she’ll be pleased to give you a hand.’
‘Oh, Nurse,’ Barbara called her back as Gemma went to move away from her bed. ‘Tell me. How is that young lad? The one who had the transplant?’
‘He’s doing very well.’ Gemma smiled. ‘He’s still in Intensive Care but I understand all went according to plan.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Barbara leaned back against her pillows, a look of relief on her face. ‘I heard all the talk going on and I wondered how he was doing.’
It was midmorning and Gemma’s coffee break before she had a chance to slip down to the Intensive Care unit to see Tristan. Surrounded by monitors and a mass of tubes and machinery, the boy was sleeping. His red hair was damp and looked darker now, plastered closely to his head, while the freckles across his nose and cheeks stood out sharply against the whiteness of his skin. Janice was dozing in a chair by his side. Sensing Gemma’s presence, she opened her eyes and looked up.
‘Oh, hello.’ She managed a weary smile.
‘How is he?’ asked Gemma, crouching down beside her.
‘I’m told he’s doing very well,’ said Janice. ‘That nice Dr Preston’s been in this morning and so has Mr Van Haelfen, and they both seem very pleased with him.’
‘What about you, Janice? Have you had any rest?’
‘I managed a couple of hours in the night while Sue sat with him. She’s gone home now for a while. When she comes back I’m going to slip home for a shower and a change of clothes.’
‘I’m so pleased it all went well,’ said Gemma softly. ‘At this rate he’ll certainly be back in the ward for that football match.’
After Gemma left ITU she made her way to the staff-room for a quick cup of coffee. At first she thought the room was empty then she heard a slight sound from one of the high-backed chairs that faced the window. On going to investigate, she found Kim sitting in the chair, a mug of coffee in her hands and her eyes red-rimmed from crying.
It was so unusual to find the usually bright and mischievous Kim like this that just for a moment Gemma found herself speechless. Kim, in turn, stared helplessly up at Gemma then a large tear trickled from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. At the sight of that Gemma sank to her knees in front of her friend.
‘Oh, Kim,
’ she murmured. ‘Whatever is it? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing…’ Kim shook her head then fumbling in her pocket she pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes.
‘Well, it doesn’t look like nothing…not from where I’m standing. Come on, Kim, this isn’t like you—whatever’s wrong? You can tell me, for heaven’s sake—I’m your friend.’ When Kim still remained silent Gemma took hold of her hands and held them tightly. ‘Is it Dean?’ she asked at last. Dean was Kim’s boyfriend and Gemma was well aware that the couple had had more than their fair share of ups and downs in the past.
‘No…’ Kim shook her head. ‘At least…not really…’
‘Well what, then? Kim, you know you can talk to me if you want to.’
‘I’m pregnant,’ said Kim bluntly at last, then, blowing her nose, she said hopelessly, ‘There, now you know.’
Without a word Gemma leaned forward and put her arms around her friend hugging her closely.
‘Are you sure?’ she said at last.
‘Yes, I found out this morning. I didn’t believe it at first. I didn’t think I could be—not really—and yet there was something that made me go and buy a kit. Honestly, Gemma, I couldn’t believe it…we were so careful.’
Gemma was silent for a moment. Kim’s words had brought back to her in sudden sharp detail exactly how she’d felt herself when she, too, had found out she was pregnant.
‘Have you told Dean?’ she asked gently.
Kim shook her head. ‘No. I don’t know how he’ll take it…You see, we haven’t been getting on too well these last few weeks…’
‘You have to tell him,’ Gemma heard herself say. ‘There’s every chance he’ll be delighted.’
‘Gemma…’ Kim hesitated, and Gemma had an awful feeling she knew what was coming next. ‘What happened when you found you were pregnant with Daisy?’ she asked.
‘My relationship with her father was already over by then,’ said Gemma firmly.
‘But what about when he knew you were pregnant?’ Kim persisted. ‘Did it change anything?’
‘He’d already gone away by then…’ She bit her lip. She really didn’t want to get into this but it was as if Kim suddenly really needed to know.
‘But when you told him, how did he take it?’ Kim went on. When Gemma remained silent, her eyes widened. ‘You mean he never knew?’ she asked, and there was a sort of fascinated horror in her voice.
Gemma shook her head. ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘he never knew.’ As Kim opened her mouth, no doubt to voice her disapproval, she added swiftly, ‘Don’t tell me—I know that was probably wrong. But that was the way it was. But this is you we’re talking about now, Kim, not me, and we have to decide what’s going to be best for you.’
‘I’ll have to tell Dean,’ said Kim slowly. ‘I know I will. And my parents…’ She gulped. ‘I’ll suppose I’ll have to tell them…’
‘Will they be supportive?’ asked Gemma.
‘I dare say.’ Kim nodded and took a gulp of her coffee. ‘Mum will be…she’s baby-mad. Dad will huff and puff, I expect, but he’ll come round in the end.’
‘I wish my dad could have known Daisy,’ said Gemma wistfully. ‘He would have adored her—I know he would.’
‘He died before she was born, didn’t he?’ Kim dabbed at her eyes with a damp tissue.
‘Yes.’ Gemma nodded. ‘In fact, I didn’t find out I was pregnant until just after he’d died.’
‘So there haven’t been too many men in Daisy’s life?’
‘I suppose you could say that,’ Gemma agreed. What Kim said was true but she hadn’t really thought about it in that way before.
‘How did your mum take it?’ asked Kim. ‘About you being pregnant, I mean.’
‘She’s been wonderful,’ Gemma admitted, ‘right from the moment she found out she offered me a home and she’s helped with Daisy. I doubt whether I’d be able to work if it weren’t for her. But it’ll be different for you, Kim. I know it will. I’m sure Dean will be pleased when he’s had a bit of time to get used to the idea. Tell me, had the two of you ever discussed having a family?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Kim nodded. ‘Dean was all for it, actually. He comes from a large family himself and he loves children…’
‘Well, there you are, then. It doesn’t sound to me as if you will have too much to worry about.’ As she spoke Gemma was aware of a pang of something she could only describe as envy. Talking to Kim had stirred up all sorts of emotions and she found herself suddenly longing for a normal family life with a husband and possibly other children besides Daisy.
But there was no time for further reflection or speculation for at that moment the staffroom door opened and two other members of staff came in for their coffee breaks.
‘Heavens!’ Gemma looked at her watch. ‘Is that the time? I’ve been gone ages. I must get back. Julie will be going berserk.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Kim stood up and drained her mug. Gemma suspected she didn’t wish to remain in the staff-room with the others, who would probably want to know what was wrong with her.
The rest of the shift was busy, with three new admissions for surgery—one for a quadruple bypass, one for thoracic surgery and the third with endocarditis. There was also an admission from Accident and Emergency—a man who’d been involved in a road accident and suffered serious chest injuries.
Gemma only saw Stephen once, when he came into the unit to see the emergency admission, but during that time at one point she found they were the only two at the man’s bedside. Quite suddenly she felt compelled to say something about the previous evening.
‘Stephen…’ she started hesitantly, and he looked up from the patient’s X-ray which he’d been studying.
‘Gemma?’ His gaze met hers and her heart started that uncomfortable thumping that seemed to happen whenever he was around.
‘I…just wanted to say thank you again for letting me know about Tristan,’ she said.
‘It was no problem.’ He smiled and it was that old heart-stopping smile she knew so well.
‘Even so.’ She swallowed. ‘It was thoughtful.’
‘Have you been to see him this morning?’ Stephen asked after a moment.
‘Yes, I did go down earlier.’
‘He’s doing very well. Mr Van Haelfen is delighted with his progress.’ As if on cue, the consultant suddenly appeared on the ward and Stephen’s gaze again met Gemma’s. ‘Uh-oh,’ he murmured, ‘talk of the devil…’
He said it in a way that was reminiscent of the way they had once been, the easy humour and closeness they had shared, and for the second time that day Gemma felt a profound stab of regret that it had all ended.
‘Stephen.’ Bjorn Van Haelfen strolled up to the bed and nodded in that aloof way of his. ‘What do we have here?’
‘This patient has come up from A and E,’ Stephen replied. ‘His thorax has been badly crushed in a road accident. These are his X-rays.’ He handed over the folder and the consultant carefully studied the images.
‘What are your thoughts on this?’ he said after a while, turning back to Stephen.
‘I think the sooner we get this man into Theatre the better,’ Stephen replied.
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Mr Van Haelfen agreed, closing the folder. ‘Staff Nurse, would you arrange cross-matching and have this man prepared for Theatre, please?’
‘Of course,’ Gemma replied, as the two men moved away from the bed.
She didn’t see Stephen again on that shift as presumably he was in Theatre for the rest of the time, but when she was leaving the unit in readiness to go home she entered the lift and just as the doors were closing he joined her.
‘Phew!’ he said. ‘Just made it. Have you finished as well?’
Gemma nodded, suddenly acutely aware of his close proximity and of the fact that they were the only two in the lift. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and I have to say I’m not sorry. It’s been incredibly busy.’
‘Likewise in Theatre.’ S
tephen pulled a face. As the lift stopped on the ground floor and the doors opened, he stood aside for her to precede him. ‘Are you going to the tube?’ he asked as he fell into step beside her. Not waiting for her to answer, he went on, ‘I’ll walk with you.’
Together they made their way through the crowd of people in reception and out into the heat of the late afternoon sunshine. ‘I have to say I don’t relish the thought of the tube in this heat,’ he said.
‘Actually,’ said Gemma, ‘I’m not going to the tube. I have my car.’
‘Really?’ he sounded genuinely surprised. ‘I thought using a car for work in London was no go.’
‘For some maybe,’ Gemma replied, ‘but it works better for me.’ What she didn’ t—couldn’ t—say was that she also found a car easier when it was her turn to drop Daisy off at her crèche or to pick her up. The thought of the tube with a two-year-old, a buggy and all the paraphernalia that seemed to accompany Daisy wherever she went was somehow more than she could contemplate.
‘No chance of a lift, I suppose?’ said Stephen casually. ‘That is I take it you will be going in my direction if you’re going home to Kingston?’
‘Er, yes.’ For a moment she didn’t know quite what to say. If she was honest, she didn’t want him in her car—didn’t want any more contact with him than was strictly necessary. If she did she felt they would soon move onto dangerous ground where he would begin asking the questions she would find impossible to answer. On the other hand, how could she refuse? To do so would simply appear downright unfriendly and somehow, in spite of the situation, she couldn’t quite bring herself to be that—not with Stephen. She was just thankful that it wasn’t a day when she was collecting Daisy from her crèche. Meekly she led the way to her car and unlocked the door.
‘So don’t you have a car?’ she asked as they fastened their seat belts and she started the engine.
‘Not at the moment,’ he admitted. ‘I didn’t get around to buying one when I came back from Dubai and since moving down here I have to say I’ve thought twice about it.’
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