‘No,’ said Gemma slowly, ‘I guess there isn’t. So what do you think will happen now?’
‘I phoned him this morning,’ admitted Sue, ‘when we knew that Tristan was bad again. Maybe it was wrong of me—I don’t know—but I felt I had to. I know how I would have felt if it was one of my boys.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said he’s coming in,’ said Sue, nervously glancing at the clock on the wall.
‘And have you told Janice this?’ asked Gemma.
‘No, that’s what I meant by another problem for Janice to face.’ Sue shook her head then threw another worried glance in her sister’s direction. ‘Do you think I should tell her now or do you think she’s got enough on her plate at the moment?’
Gemma hesitated. ‘I think you should tell her,’ she said at last, ‘because if you don’t and he turns up here, I think that may upset her even more than she already is.’
‘All right.’ Sue nodded. Taking a deep breath, she stood up.
‘Do you want me to go?’ asked Gemma.
‘No, actually I think it might be better if you stayed. If you don’t mind, that is.’ Crossing the room, Sue touched her sister on the arm and Janice turned sharply.
‘What is it?’ she demanded. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, it’s all right.’ Sue hastened to reassure her sister. ‘There isn’t any news yet, but I have to tell you something. I’m sorry, Janice, but I have a confession to make.’
‘It’s OK.’ Janice nodded dully. ‘I can guess what you’re going to say. You’ve told Barry, haven’t you?’
Sue stared at her. ‘Yes,’ she admitted at last. ‘Yes, I have, Jan…But aren’t you angry?’
Janice shook her head. ‘No,’ she said wearily. ‘To be honest with you, I don’t really care. It’s the least of my problems at the moment. In fact, I’d thought I might phone him myself. After all…when all’s said and done he is Tristan’s father and no matter what has happened in the past between the two of us, he does have a right to know.’
Gemma swallowed and turned away. ‘I’ll go and see if there’s any news,’ she murmured, and hurried from the room. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to hear any more. It was too close to her own situation, all this talk of absent fathers and their rights.
A man was standing at the nurses’ station. He looked uncertain and ill at ease but with his flaming red hair and the thick smattering of freckles across his pale features there was no mistaking who he was.
‘Mr Margham?’ asked Gemma.
‘Yes.’ The man looked surprised that she should know who he was. ‘I’ve come to find out about my son…’
‘Tristan is still in Theatre,’ Gemma explained gently.
‘But what are they doing?’ The man looked bewildered and suddenly Gemma felt desperately sorry for him. It didn’t matter now what had happened in the past, whether or not he had walked out on Janice and Tristan. All that mattered now was that he was upset because his son was fighting for his life.
‘You must try not to worry, Mr Margham. They’re doing everything they can to help Tristan,’ Gemma assured him.
‘Is his mother here?’ Barry Margham glanced round almost sheepishly, as if he expected Janice to appear and deliver a tirade against him for daring to turn up.
‘Yes,’ said Gemma quietly, ‘she’s in the relatives’ room with her sister.’
‘Can I see her?’ He looked anxious now as if he feared that his request might be denied.
‘Yes, of course,’ Gemma replied. ‘Come with me. I think you’ll find they’re expecting you.’ The man’s face cleared and he followed Gemma as once more she returned to the relatives’ room.
She left Barry Margham with his ex-wife and her sister, who seemed if not exactly pleased to see him then relieved in an odd sort of way. She returned to her duties on the ward but for the rest of her shift her heart was in Theatre with Stephen and Bjorn Van Haelfen as they battled for Tristan’s life.
By the time the surgeons finally arrived straight from the Theatre and still wearing their greens, there was a sense of high tension running on the ward.
‘Where is Mrs Margham?’ asked Mr Van Haelfen. His fair skin beneath his dark blue Theatre cap looked flushed from the sun of his recent sailing trip.
‘She’s in the relatives’ room.’ It was Gemma who spoke. ‘His aunt is also there and…and his father has arrived as well,’ she added.
‘His father?’ Bjorn Van Haelfen raised his eyebrows.
‘I didn’t think he was on the scene,’ said Stephen.
‘He wasn’t,’ Gemma replied. ‘But someone had already told him about Tristan’s transplant and Mrs Margham’s sister phoned him this morning to tell him of this latest setback.’
‘Gemma.’ Julie Miles intervened. ‘Would you take Mr Van Haelfen and Dr Preston down to the relatives’ room, please?’
‘Of course.’ Gemma nodded. There was no way of telling yet whether the news over Tristan was good or bad, and it was with a certain amount of trepidation that she accompanied the two men down the corridor.
When they entered the room they found Sue and Barry seated in two of the easy chairs while Janice was once again at the window, staring out across the dried-up flower-beds surrounding the hospital. Barry leapt to his feet and Janice turned sharply, her eyes rapidly scanning the faces of the surgeons, desperately trying to read their expressions.
‘Mrs Margham.’ Rapidly Mr Van Haelfen came straight to the point. ‘Infection had set up around Tristan’s heart and he was showing definite signs of rejection. There was a lot of fluid, which we have dealt with—’
‘Is he going to be all right?’ Janice’s voice was little more than a harsh whisper.
‘These next few days will be crucial,’ said Bjorn Van Haelfen in his calm, unhurried tones, ‘but I’m optimistic that we’ve stabilised him once more.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ whispered Janice, her shoulders sagging in relief.
‘Can we see him?’ asked Sue. ‘Is he back in the ward?’
‘He will be in Intensive Care for the next twenty-four hours.’ It was Stephen who answered her question. ‘But I don’t see any reason why you can’t go and see him. I’m sure Nurse Langford will arrange that for you.’
‘Of course,’ Gemma agreed. ‘I suggest you have a cup of tea whilst Tristan is being transferred from Recovery to ITU then I’ll take you along to see him.’
‘Thank you.’ Barry turned to Mr Van Haelfen and Stephen, and Gemma noticed there were tears in his eyes. ‘Thank you very much for everything,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ whispered Janice in the same hoarse whisper, ‘thank you…’
‘Not at all. It’s all in a day’s work.’ Bjorn Van Haelfen nodded then strode out of the room, pulling his royal blue surgical cap from his head as he went.
Sue struggled to her feet and crossed the room to the drinks dispenser. ‘I’ll get the tea,’ she said. ‘I feel quite shaky. Goodness knows how you must feel, Jan…’
‘I couldn’t begin to describe how I feel,’ said Janice faintly.
‘We’ll leave you to it,’ said Gemma. ‘I’ll be back a bit later.’ Together she and Stephen left the relatives’ room and made their way slowly back to the ward.
‘So it went well?’ Gemma threw him a glance, concerned to see how tired and drawn he looked.
‘It was touch and go once or twice,’ he admitted. ‘He arrested soon after we opened his chest. But Bjorn’s fantastic—I’ve never seen a surgeon like him—if anyone can work miracles it’s him.’ He paused. ‘I have to say things seemed calm enough between Janice and Barry.’
‘Yes, I think they managed to call a truce,’ said Gemma, ‘at least for the time being.’ She paused. ‘But wouldn’t it be nice if this brought them together again?’ She’d said it without thinking and immediately the words were out she wished she hadn’t.
‘It’s a nice thought, certainly.’ There was amusement in the glance that Stephen threw her. ‘But it isn
’t going to happen.’
‘And why’s that?’ She spoke defensively because, in spite of wishing she hadn’t raised such a subject, she suddenly resented him jumping to such negative conclusions. ‘Surely anything is possible. After all, they must have cared for one another once…’
‘Barry married again and has another family,’ Stephen replied quietly. ‘Janice told me that soon after Tristan was first admitted.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Gemma suddenly felt rather foolish for harbouring such romantic notions but at the same time was aware of a vague sense of disappointment. ‘It would have been nice, especially for Tristan, to think that his mum and dad might have had a chance to get together again.’ As she spoke, at the back of her mind another thought had crept in. Stephen could marry someone else—someone like Alex—then in years to come there could be some event in Daisy’s life…No, she mustn’t start thinking like that.
‘Gemma…’ They had almost reached the station, but Stephen’s voice was suddenly low, urgent even. ‘I was wondering…if I could see you some time? How about tonight?’ he hurried on when she remained silent. ‘We could maybe have dinner…’
Her natural instinct was to refuse. ‘Stephen, I don’t know…’ she began.
‘Look, I know you were reluctant about us getting together again but…was that because I didn’t know about your daughter?’
‘It may have been,’ she replied guardedly.
‘But now I do know and, honestly, Gemma, it makes no difference—really it doesn’t. I want to see you…’
‘Well…’
‘Dinner tonight?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know, Stephen.’
‘Why not?’
His gaze was intense and Gemma found herself at a loss for words. She could hardly tell him the real reason she was reluctant to get involved with him again. Instead she heard herself say, ‘I’m not sure I can ask my mother to babysit again so soon. She had Daisy at the weekend when I went to Alex’s party and then again last night when I went to the club for Kim’s and Dean’s celebration—’
‘Is that her name?’ He had stopped and was staring at her.
‘Who?’ She looked bewildered, wondering to whom he was referring.
‘Your daughter. You said Daisy.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Her name is Daisy.’
‘It’s a lovely name. I bet she’s a pretty little girl—just like her mum.’ His gaze met hers, and confused, she was forced to look away. ‘OK,’ he said after a moment, ‘you have a word with your mum and try and fix something up. I’ll give you a call.’
She was about to say that maybe it wasn’t a good idea, but something stopped her and before she could find anything else to say, with a wave of his hand he was gone, away down the corridor and back to the Theatre.
‘What was all that about?’ Suddenly Kim was at her elbow, staring after Stephen’s retreating back.
‘Nothing.’ Gemma shook her head.
‘It didn’t look like nothing from where I was standing. Did he ask you out?’ asked Kim curiously.
‘Sort of.’ Gemma shrugged and began tidying the desk, picking up folders and sorting them.
‘So what did you say?’
‘I said it was a bit difficult at the moment.’
‘Why did you say that?’ Kim stared at her.
‘Well…what with Daisy and everything…I’ve already asked Mum to babysit twice in the last week…’
‘For goodness’ sake, Gemma,’ said Kim in sudden exasperation, ‘I’ll babysit if it comes to that. It’s high time you got your life back on track, you know. You hardly ever go out.’
‘I’m quite happy—’
‘But, Gem, blokes like Stephen don’t grow on trees. Neither do they hang around for ever—although I have to say he does seem very keen on you.’
Gemma remained silent but Kim hadn’t finished, obviously determined in her own new state of pending matrimonial bliss that Gemma should be heading in the same direction. ‘Don’t you fancy him, for heaven’s sake?’ she demanded. ‘You have to admit he’s very hunky.’
‘Yes.’ Gemma allowed a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth at her friend’s observation of Stephen. ‘Yes, I suppose he is.’
‘Suppose!’ Kim exploded. ‘I tell you, he is, and if you’re at all interested, my advice to you is to snap him up quickly. If you don’t, you mark my words, our friend Alex will be in there and whisk him away from right under your nose. I tell you, she’s trying every trick in the book to get his attention.’
‘Is she?’ said Gemma faintly.
‘Yes, she is,’ Kim replied firmly. She paused. ‘What are you afraid of, Gem? Why are you holding back?’ She peered at Gemma intently then, not waiting for an answer, she said, ‘Is it because of Daisy?’
‘Well, yes, partly, I suppose. I do have Daisy to consider.’
‘Yes, I know. Of course you do.’
‘Yes, and thanks to Alex he now knows I am a single parent.’
‘OK.’ Kim shrugged. ‘So he knows.’ She paused, considering. ‘But it’s no big deal—not these days. So how did he take it?’
‘He was surprised.’ Gemma shrugged. ‘But what could he say?’
‘Did he want to know about…about Daisy’s father?’ asked Kim curiously.
Gemma swallowed. ‘He asked if the relationship had ended, and I told him it had.’
‘Well, I suppose he would want to know that. Tell me…’ Kim surveyed her critically. ‘When you and he knew each other before, were you going out with anyone else then?’
‘Er, not exactly…no.’ Gemma shook her head.
‘So I suppose it stands to reason he was a bit surprised to find that whilst he’d been away you’d met someone and had a baby, then parted. But listen, Gem, you say he asked you out just now?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s since he found out about Daisy. So it obviously doesn’t bother him—that you’re a single mum, I mean.’
‘No, I guess it doesn’t.’
‘Well, there you are, then.’ Kim spread her hands. ‘If I were you I’d just go for it. Get in there first before Alex does.’
‘Yes, well, we’ll see…Now, how about you?’ Deliberately Gemma changed the subject.
‘What about me?’ asked Kim.
‘What other plans have you made? I must say Dean looked happy last night.’
‘I think he’s still a bit punch-drunk from it all.’ Kim laughed. ‘But, yes, you’re right, he is happy. And when I think there was me, thinking that he wouldn’t want to know—about the baby I mean. It just shows how wrong you can be. Why, last night we were even talking about names. Dean amazed me. He likes names like Fergus and Lucinda…I like more simple names like Ben or Lisa.’
‘So when’s the wedding to be?’ Gemma smiled at her friend’s obvious enthusiasm.
‘Probably late September or maybe October at the latest. I want it before I start to show.’ Kim smiled and patted her tummy. ‘But on the other hand, it takes time to arrange these things, you know.’
Gemma let Kim chatter on but deep inside she was aware of a steadily growing feeling of envy as her friend outlined all her plans for her wedding and the forthcoming birth of her baby. If only things had been different. If only Stephen had wanted to settle down and start a family, if only—She checked herself sharply. It was no good thinking ‘if only’. That wouldn’t get her anywhere. It was the reality of the here and now that was important. Even though Stephen was back in her life, there was nothing to suggest he had truly changed in any way and there was no reason to suppose that the idea of a wife and family was any more attractive to him now than it had ever been. Kim was urging her to go out with him, to get on with her life, she’d said. If only it was that easy.
By the time her shift ended Gemma was no nearer reaching a decision as to whether or not she should go out with Stephen again, whether she should risk falling in love with him all over again, in case he moved on a second time. And whether,
even more crucially, she should risk him finding out that Daisy was his daughter.
As it turned out she didn’t have to worry immediately because for the rest of that week the cardiac unit was incredibly busy and she saw little of Stephen. Their shifts didn’t seem to coincide very often and when their paths did briefly cross there were always other people around. She worked a shift on Saturday then on Sunday she made up her mind she was going to spend some time with Daisy.
‘I thought we’d go to the park,’ she said to her mother. ‘Do you fancy coming with us?’
‘If you don’t mind, Gemma, I think I’ll catch up on a few jobs here that need doing,’ Jill replied. ‘There’s some stale bread in the kitchen—take it with you then Daisy can feed the ducks.’
Gemma changed into shorts and a T-shirt then dressed Daisy in a blue and white gingham sundress.
‘Ducks…’ sang Daisy, climbing onto Gemma’s bed and pulling a large white duck with an orange beak from the shelf and tucking it firmly under her arm.
‘Oh, darling, Daffy is rather big to take out,’ Gemma said. ‘Wouldn’t you rather leave him here until we come home?’
‘No. Want to take him,’ said Daisy with her usual determination.
‘Oh, all right.’ Gemma sighed. She really didn’t have the energy that morning for a battle with her small daughter. ‘You can take him—but we’ll take your buggy.’
‘Want to walk,’ said Daisy.
‘Yes, you can walk—when we get to the park. But you can ride in the buggy until we get there and so can Daffy.’ This seemed to satisfy the little girl and after tying on a white broderie anglaise sunhat over Daisy’s blonde hair Gemma settled her in her buggy, collected the bag of bread and called goodbye to Jill.
The weather, although definitely cooler than of late, was still pleasant with warm sunshine and a slight breeze that chased white clouds across the blue expanse of sky. The park was barely a five-minute walk from the house, and when Gemma and Daisy arrived it was to find the area already well frequented by like-minded Sunday morning people. Parents with small children clustered around the lake where a flock of Canada geese jostled for the scraps of bread being thrown in their direction. Older children swarmed over the children’s play area—on swings, slides and a huge climbing apparatus that resembled barricades set up in a revolution. There were joggers and walkers on the pathways, all taking their lives in their hands as boys on skateboards zipped past, performing wheelies and showing off their skills to each other and anyone else who was prepared to watch. In the distance on the vast expanse of common the trailers and caravans of a travelling funfair had arrived and had begun setting up rides and sideshows.
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