Dr. Preston's Daughter

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘Stephen…’ Her voice was harsh, ragged, not like her voice at all. As his arms went around her she leaned against him, exhausted by the force of her overwhelming emotions.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Stephen held her away from him so that he could look into her tear-stained face.

  ‘They think it might be meningitis…’ she whispered, and the tears began to flow afresh.

  ‘Oh, God…’ Stephen ran a hand over his head in a gesture of despair, and for a long moment stood there, staring down at Daisy. In a determined effort to regain his professional composure, he said, ‘Would you like me to go and see if I can find out anything?’

  ‘Oh, yes…yes, please.’ Gemma gulped, dashing her tears away with the back of her hand. ‘All I know is that she was becoming dehydrated and they’ve set up a drip.’

  ‘All right.’ Stephen nodded. ‘Listen, Gemma, why don’t you go and have a word with your mum? I saw her waiting outside. I’ll go and see if I can talk to someone then I’ll come and find you.’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  Stephen dropped a kiss on her forehead. With a glance at Daisy’s still form on the bed, Gemma put her head down and hurried out of the treatment room.

  She found her mother in the reception area, trying to make the rather elderly coffee machine work. ‘What’s happening?’ Jill demanded, abandoning her efforts as soon as she caught sight of Gemma.

  ‘Not much.’ Gemma shook her head helplessly. ‘I sent for Stephen,’ she added.

  ‘I guessed as much. I saw him arrive,’ Jill replied. ‘I’m glad you did,’ she added. ‘He should be here, Gemma.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Gemma nodded. ‘I wanted him here. He’s talking to the doctor at the moment, trying to find out what is happening.’

  ‘What have they been doing all this time?’ asked Jill. ‘We’ve been here nearly two hours.’

  ‘Have we?’ Gemma was stunned. ‘I had no idea. Well, they examined Daisy thoroughly and ever since they’ve been running a series of tests, trying to find out exactly what’s wrong with her.’

  ‘How is she now, poor little love?’ Jill was quite distraught and Gemma’s heart went out to her. Her mother had had so much involvement with Daisy since the moment of her birth and she looked devastated.

  ‘She isn’t too aware of anything at the moment,’ Gemma murmured quietly. ‘She’d become very dehydrated so they’ve put her on a drip.’

  ‘Oh, poor little soul…’ Tears sprang to Jill’s eyes and Gemma found her professional side taking over as she hastened to reassure her mother that it was a very necessary procedure.

  ‘So do they think it’s meningitis?’ asked Jill fearfully.

  ‘The tests should tell,’ said Gemma, trying to ignore the heavy thump of her heart at the very thought. ‘But there isn’t any sign of a rash…’

  ‘Surely that’s a good thing?’ Jill looked hopeful then the two of them were forced to move as the reception area became even more crowded and a woman and a teenager approached the drinks dispenser and began to feed in coins at an alarming rate.

  ‘Did you want to try again for a coffee?’ asked Gemma as the couple successfully extracted two cans of fizzy drink.

  ‘No, I won’t bother.’ Jill shook her head. ‘I was only doing it for something to do—you know, to try and keep occupied,’ she added helplessly. Together they went and sat down in the rows of chairs that faced the reception desk, but no sooner had they done so than Stephen came out of the treatment room and came and joined them.

  ‘Have you found out anything?’ demanded Gemma anxiously.

  ‘The initial tests for meningitis appear to be negative,’ Stephen said carefully.

  ‘Thank God for that—’ Jill began, but Stephen held up his hand.

  ‘The problem is they still don’t know what it is. She’s a very poorly little girl. They want to move her, Gemma—to Denby.’

  ‘Why do they want to do that?’ asked Jill.

  ‘Because Denby has a much larger paediatric unit than Oakfields,’ Stephen explained. ‘I also think it would be a good idea to let Bjorn take a look at her.’

  ‘Bjorn?’ Gemma looked up sharply, startled at the mention of the cardiac consultant’s name. ‘There’s nothing wrong with her heart, is there?’

  ‘They’re not sure,’ Stephen admitted. ‘But they believe it could be a possibility.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Gemma’s hands flew to her mouth as memories of the night her father had been rushed into the cardiac unit flashed into her mind.

  ‘I would certainly feel happier if Bjorn could see her,’ said Stephen. ‘They’ll arrange an ambulance.’

  ‘You go with her, Gemma,’ said Jill. ‘I’ll follow in the car. Stephen.’ She turned to him. ‘Will you go with Gemma in the ambulance?’

  ‘Of course.’ His reply was unhesitating.

  The following hours were a blur in Gemma’s mind as Daisy was transferred from Oakfields to Denby General. She was only aware of two things—the fight that was on for her small daughter’s life and the comforting and reassuring presence of Stephen at her side as he took control and guided her through what seemed like a dark and impenetrable maze. In the ambulance he sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders as they watched the tiny form on the stretcher while the paramedic administered oxygen to help Daisy with her breathing. When they reached Denby General he was at her side again as Daisy was transferred to the paediatric ward.

  It was a strange night, a night of tension and anguish with periods of intensive activity punctuated by spells of quiet when only Gemma and Stephen sat at Daisy’s bedside. At one time Gemma was reminded briefly of the dream she’d had recently, the dream where both Stephen and Daisy had been involved and where something terrible had been happening. Had it been a premonition of this agonising night? With a shudder she tried to put it out of her mind.

  At last Bjorn Van Haelfen came to speak to them after he’d examined and treated Daisy, explaining that they’d found her to have a bacterial infection around her heart.

  ‘Will she be all right?’ implored Gemma, oblivious now to the number of times she had reassured patients and their relatives in identical circumstances.

  ‘We have drawn off the fluid which was building up around her heart,’ Bjorn replied in the calm, authoritative way that both reassured and inspired whomever he was talking to. ‘We have also commenced a drug regime of antibiotics,’ he added. ‘At this stage,’ he went on, ‘I see no need for surgery.’

  Some time in the small hours they sent an exhausted Jill home. ‘You can’t do any more here, Mum,’ Gemma explained. ‘You go and get some rest then at least one of us will be fresh to take over in the morning.’

  ‘You will phone me if there’s any change?’ In spite of her fatigue Jill still looked desperately worried.

  ‘Of course we will.’

  Gradually, without Gemma even noticing, ‘I’ had become ‘we’, as unconsciously she included Stephen in every action and every decision.

  After Jill had gone they resumed their vigil, one on either side of the bed as Daisy lay between them, a mass of tubes performing the miracle that was needed to restore her to health, each of them holding one small hand.

  And it was during that time that Stephen looked across the bed at Gemma and asked the inevitable question.

  ‘She’s mine, isn’t she?’ he said softly, his eyes meeting hers.

  ‘Yes, Stephen,’ she whispered. ‘She’s yours.’

  With the deepest of sighs Stephen lowered his head. Lifting his little daughter’s hand, he pressed it to his lips.

  At some point during that long night Daisy began to respond to the medication as it fought the infection that had so nearly claimed her life, but for the next few days Gemma didn’t leave her side, spending all her time at the hospital as the little girl gradually recovered and regained her strength.

  Stephen returned to work but continued to spend as much time as possible with Gemma and Daisy, even though no mention was made of wha
t had passed between them in the small hours of that fateful night. It was almost as if by some unspoken agreement it had been decided that no further discussion would take place on the subject until Daisy improved.

  Jill continued to visit the hospital at every opportunity and it was she who eventually raised the subject. It was one afternoon when she and Gemma were sitting at Daisy’s bedside and the little girl was sleeping. It was warm and sunny and beside the bed the window was open and a gentle breeze stirred the petals of a bunch of dahlias in a vase on the window-sill.

  ‘Have you told him?’ asked Jill.

  ‘I didn’t need to,’ Gemma replied quietly, instinctively knowing what her mother meant. ‘He’d already guessed.’

  ‘I thought he must know.’ Jill nodded. ‘There’s something about the way he looks at her.’

  ‘I had made up my mind to tell him,’ said Gemma after a moment, ‘but, like I say, he’d already guessed.’

  ‘How did he take it?’ asked Jill.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gemma shook her head. ‘We haven’t discussed it yet.’

  ‘Where does it go from here?’ Jill raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘Who knows?’ whispered Gemma softly.

  ‘Where would you like it to go?’

  ‘Where I would like it to go and where it actually goes may be two entirely different things,’ Gemma murmured.

  ‘Are you saying you’d like something to come of it?’ Jill persisted.

  Gemma raised her head. ‘Yes, I would,’ she said bluntly. ‘There, I’ve said it now.’ Faintly exasperated at her mother’s persistence, Gemma stared at her across the bed.

  ‘Oh, Gemma, wouldn’t it be wonderful if—?’

  ‘Mum.’ Swiftly Gemma interrupted her. ‘When Stephen and I were together before, he didn’t want to settle down. There’s no reason to suppose it would be any different now.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ asked Jill, turning her head to look at her granddaughter. ‘I would say there’s every reason.’

  Kim came to visit as often as she could, as did Mia and some of the others. There was gossip, just as Gemma had known there would be—gossip about the fact that Stephen had rushed to her side when she’d most needed someone, and gossip about the fact that he’d continued to be at her side at every opportunity since.

  ‘Do I detect romance in the air?’ asked Kim on one occasion.

  ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ Gemma remained deliberately evasive.

  ‘There are rumours flying around Cardiac,’ said Kim.

  ‘Are there really? What sort of rumours?’

  ‘What do you think? About the fact that you and Stephen knew each other before, about the fact that you have a child and have never disclosed who her father is. And about the fact that it was Stephen here with you both when Daisy was so desperately ill. It doesn’t take a genius to start adding up facts, Gemma.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it does,’ Gemma agreed, too tired to care.

  ‘Alex was doing her nut there for a time,’ Kim went on after a while. ‘She really thought she was in with a chance with him, but now…’

  ‘What about now?’ asked Gemma.

  ‘Well, she’s given up,’ said Kim. ‘Didn’t you know? She’s transferred her affections to Gavin Durham—he’s the new registrar on Orthopaedics. Very nice…’ Kim wrinkled her nose. ‘But not as hunky as Stephen,’ she added wickedly.

  ‘Kim, you’re impossible,’ protested Gemma.

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Kim grinned. ‘So come on, tell me—I’m your friend for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘Kim,’ said Gemma, ‘I know you’re my friend and I promise that as soon as there is anything to tell, you’ll be the first to know…’ She trailed off because at that moment the curtain behind her chair was pulled back and Stephen himself stood there.

  ‘Well,’ said Kim, suddenly flustered and rising to her feet, ‘I must be going. I’ll leave you to it…’

  As Kim disappeared, Stephen took the chair that she had just vacated. ‘How is she?’ he murmured, looking down at Daisy.

  ‘She’s fine.’ Gemma gently stroked her daughter’s forehead. ‘She just needs sleep now.’

  ‘And what about her mum?’ Stephen threw her a searching look.

  ‘Yes, her mum could do with some sleep as well,’ Gemma admitted with a rueful smile. ‘But I have to say, the sense of relief is so overwhelming it seems to be acting like a stimulant.’

  ‘I’ve just had a word with the paediatric registrar,’ Stephen went on, ‘and he says There’s every reason to hope that Daisy will be able to go home in a couple of days’ time.’

  ‘That’s wonderful.’ Gemma turned her head and gazed at her little girl sleeping peacefully, her breathing normal, her golden-tipped lashes resting on soft cheeks and her blonde hair smooth and freshly brushed. ‘Do you think there’ll be any further repercussions in the future from this?’ she asked after a while.

  ‘It’s unlikely,’ Stephen replied. ‘Bjorn is convinced it was triggered by a virus, albeit a particularly virulent one. We will, of course, do a series of check-ups over the next few months or so, but I think you’ll find there hasn’t been any lasting damage.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ Gemma breathed out heavily. ‘I was really worried that she might have inherited some genetic defect from my father…’ She trailed off but it was what she left unsaid that was somehow more poignant than what she had said.

  They were silent for a long time. In the background were the sounds of the everyday routine of the busy children’s ward but Gemma and Stephen, together with Daisy, were in a private world of their own.

  ‘When did you know?’ It was Gemma who at last broke the silence.

  Stephen lifted his head and his gaze met hers. ‘I suspected the moment I saw her—that day in the park,’ he said simply at last.

  ‘What made you suspect?’ she asked. She expected him to say something on the lines of Daisy being older than he’d imagined, but instead he took a wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket, opened it and took out a photograph. He studied the photograph for a moment then passed it to Gemma.

  Mystified, she looked down and found herself looking at the picture of a little girl so like Daisy that for a moment it almost took her breath away. Speechlessly she looked at Stephen across the bed.

  ‘My niece, Charlotte,’ he said. ‘My sister Vanessa’s daughter.’

  Gemma stared at the photograph again as it sank in that this little girl was Daisy’s cousin, that Daisy had people out there who were her family every bit as important to her as she and Jill were.

  At last, wordlessly, she handed the photo back to Stephen, who replaced it in his wallet.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he said at last. His voice was strangely flat with none of the accusation that she might once have expected.

  ‘You mean, when she was born?’ she asked quietly, raising her gaze to meet his.

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘Or even before that—when you found out you were pregnant.’

  She was silent for a second or two, reflecting. Choosing her words with care, she said, ‘I didn’t think you would want to know, Stephen.’ When he sharply drew in his breath, she added, ‘In fact, I thought you would be horrified.’

  ‘Did you think me that much of a monster?’ he said, and now there was some added element to his tone, whether accusation or bitterness she wasn’t sure.

  ‘No, Stephen.’ She looked him directly in the eyes. ‘Not a monster—just a man full of ambition who had made it very clear that he would let nothing stand in the way of his career, a man who had also made it absolutely clear that he wasn’t ready to settle down, that a wife and children were at the very bottom of his agenda—if they featured at all.’

  There was real passion in her voice and he stared at her, apparently shaken by her words. ‘That doesn’t mean to say that I wouldn’t have wanted to know that I’d fathered a child,’ he protested. ‘I was responsible, for God’s sake, Gemma, and I don’t thi
nk I’ve ever been a man to shirk my responsibilities.’

  ‘All right—what would you have done?’ Gemma challenged. ‘You’d just gone to Dubai. You were full of it—your new job, your apartment, your colleagues. What would you have done if you’d got a letter from me, saying that I was pregnant?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have turned my back on you, that’s for sure,’ he retorted. ‘I loved you, Gemma. I thought we were special. We would have worked something out.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t have been what you wanted, would it?’ she demanded. Her voice rose slightly and Daisy stirred, opening her eyes briefly. They both looked at her then she closed her eyes again and went back to sleep.

  ‘Let’s face it,’ Gemma went on, lowering her voice, ‘if that was what you’d wanted, you would have said so before you went to Dubai, or you wouldn’t have contemplated going in the first place.’

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t what I thought I wanted at that time.’ Stephen shook his head. ‘But you have to remember that Dubai was already on the horizon when I met you. When the time came for me to go I had mixed feelings because I didn’t want to leave you, and when I got out there and you didn’t reply to my letters I thought…’

  ‘Yes, Stephen, what did you think?’ she said softly.

  ‘I thought you wanted to end the relationship. I thought by not replying it was your way of telling me that it was over between us…when all the time…all the time you were expecting our baby.’

  ‘If I’d answered your letter, if I’d told you,’ said Gemma, ‘are you saying you would have come back?’

  ‘Well, I would certainly have done something. Didn’t you think I would?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to feel you had to come back just for the baby,’ she said simply.

  He stared at her almost in exasperation. ‘Gemma,’ he said at last, ‘it wouldn’t have been like that. I would have come back for you. How many times do I have to tell you? I loved you then, I still love you now. I’d only been in Dubai for a short time when I realised how much I missed you. I nearly cut my contract short and came back straight away, but when you didn’t reply to my letters I concluded that you didn’t want to know any more so, in the end, I decided to work out the three years of my contract.’ He sighed and shook his head as if reflecting on that time. After a moment he went on, ‘During that time I couldn’t get you out of my mind, and when the contract was up all I wanted to do was to come back here and find you again.’