‘Good.’ Louise paused for the longest time, scorching a V into a white shirt as she stared at her friend. ‘I understand about the kids, I even understand why you couldn’t tell your parents today, but what I don’t understand is why the hell you couldn’t tell me, Isla. We’re supposed to be friends.’
‘We are,’ Isla insisted, but Louise gave a confused shake of her head.
‘We tell each other everything, well, maybe not everything, but I was the one who made your hair appointment that day. How could you forget to mention you were seeing a solicitor?’
It was a good question and one Isla wrestled with before answering, red-rimmed, swollen eyes finally looking up from her coffee cup. ‘I guess if I told you, it was real.’ Isla swallowed, but the lump in her throat remained. ‘And I didn’t want it to be.’
‘Oh, Isla!’ Somehow Louise had the foresight to pull the plug out of the iron before heading across the kitchen and embracing her friend. ‘You know I love you, you know how much I care, and I know Sav’s been difficult and impossible and hell to live with, but—and don’t hate me for saying this—you have been, too.’
‘I thought you were my friend.’ Isla’s words weren’t quite as pathetic as they sounded, delivered with a wobbly smile as she delved in her mug for the chocolate at the bottom.
‘I am your friend,’ Louise said firmly. ‘And since Casey died I’ve read up a bit on grief. Look, I know I’m not a nurse or a doctor but I do know that grief comes in stages. What stage is Sav at?’
‘Guilt,’ Isla sighed. ‘Denial, anger—take your pick.’
‘And what about you?’
Isla frowned into her coffee, not liking the way the conversation was turning.
‘Acceptance,’ she said finally. ‘I’ve run the full gauntlet and now I’m at acceptance.’
‘No, Isla.’ Louise shook her head, her eyes kind but firm, the arms of friendship still wrapped around Isla as they told the truth the way only a real friend could. ‘You’re at the bargaining stage.’
‘No…’ Isla started, shaking her head in refusal, but Louise continued. ‘Bargaining. If Sav will just open up, things will be better. If I go back to work, things will get back to normal. If I go and see a solicitor and hit Sav with the threat of divorce, I’ll snap him out of his misery.’
‘That’s about Sav and me,’ Isla refuted. ‘It has nothing to do with Casey.’
‘Yes, it does,’ Louise said slowly, gripping Isla’s hands as they shredded a mound of tissues. ‘What then, Isla? Snap Sav out of his misery and everything will be what?’
Isla shook her head, dragged the chair an inch and went to stand, but Louise held her down.
‘Be what, Isla?’
‘Normal again,’ Isla whispered, her teeth chattering around the words. ‘I just want it all to be normal again.’
‘It will be,’ Louise promised, tears streaming down her own face now. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away. ‘But a different type of normal. You can run around chasing what you had for ever, but it isn’t going to happen. Things are never going to be the same for your little family again.’
And it was horrible and painful and awful, but true. Isla wept choking tears, mourning, as if for the first time, not just a little boy who had died but the loving family that had gone with him.
‘So, what now?’ Isla asked, when her nose was raw, her eyes so red and swollen she could see her own lids. ‘What do I do now? Sav’s never going to—’
‘Sav loves you, just as much as you love him,’ Louise said wisely. ‘Talk to him—’
‘I’ve been trying.’
‘Then listen,’ Louise said gently.
‘He doesn’t say anything.’
‘Then keep on listening, and even if all you get is silence for a while, keep right on. Sooner or later he’ll open up.’
Which sounded like a plan.
Not much of a plan but enough to get her caffeine-overloaded body into bed and her confused mind to drift into a brief a semblance of sleep, to force unconsciousness until a bleary face greeted her.
‘You’ve overslept!’
‘I haven’t,’ Isla mumbled, groping for her alarm clock, taking solace in the fact that the bedroom was way too dark for her to be late. But as her eyes finally focused and her ears registered the rumbling thunder and pounding rain against the window, Isla realized that Harry was spot on.
They were going to be late!
Still, the mad rush to get two boys washed, dressed and fed and find raincoats that hadn’t been seen in six months was gratefully received, as were the uniforms laid out on the couch and the lunchboxes Louise had neatly stacked in the fridge. Gratefully received because in her haste to get them all ready, Isla had no time to think the unthinkable. She even managed to sound vaguely normal as she ordered Luke back to the bathroom to really brush his teeth this time and tucked in Harry’s permanently untucked shirt.
‘Where’s Dad?’ He was so intent on trying to tie up his own shoelaces, Harry didn’t see Isla’s nervous swallow.
‘He got called in to work, so Louise will be taking you both to school this morning.’ And she waited, waited for some suspicious comment, but thankfully it never came.
‘Can I have sixty cents for the tuck shop?’
‘I haven’t got any change.’
‘A dollar, then?’
Maybe not such a businessman, Isla thought, scrabbling down the sides of the sofas and duly pulling out a dollar for each of them. Right then Isla would have parted with the fifty-dollar note in her purse just to get out of the door.
Handover had already started as Isla slid to a rather apologetic halt, her hair drenched and dripping from her dash across the car park. She mouthed an apology to Jayne as the night sister frowned at her late arrival—and with good reason. The place was fit to burst and the last thing they needed, Isla realized as she frantically tried to catch up with the handover, was an emergency nurse with her mind elsewhere. It was her first Monday morning in Emergency for the best part of a decade, but nothing had changed. Sports injuries and hangovers. The penalties of a good weekend groaned in the waiting room, along with the patients who’d been hoping all weekend to hold off until their GP opened up on Monday, only to arrive pale and unwell in the early hours. Resus was filling. The early morning storm after a long dry spell ensured the roads were as slippery as ice and more than a couple of unfortunate motorists were paying the price.
‘Isla.’ Jayne nodded at Isla’s apology. ‘Could you give Heath a hand in the suture room? Then I’ll bring you up to date with what’s happening out here.’
If she was filled with trepidation at seeing Sav, the thought of seeing Heath filled her with horror, but, as she was new and appallingly late, Isla was hardly in a position to argue, so, forcing a professional stance, Isla walked into the suture room where Heath was stitching up a gentleman rather the worse for wear. The man was snoring loudly as Heath sutured his scalp.
‘Do you want me to cut?’ Isla offered.
‘Please.’ Heath nodded, barely looking up, but his darkening cheeks told Isla he was uncomfortable. ‘There’s eight waiting to be sutured, so a hand in here would be good.’
She didn’t even attempt small talk, just snipped away with amazingly steady hands, irrigated wound after wound then dressed them as they worked their way through the list.
‘Isla.’ Washing the trolley when finally the list was over, she didn’t even bother to look up. ‘I really can’t remember all that happened Saturday night.’
‘Lucky you, then.’ Green eyes fixed him to the spot.
‘I’m sorry if I caused you and Sav any problems.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘You’re sure?’ Heath checked, and Isla forced a smile.
‘I’m sure.’
And she wasn’t lying. Pushing the trolley back against the wall, Isla ripped new paper off a roll and laid the table for the next patient, hating Heath for what he had done, but hating herself more for causing it.
Heath may have lit the rag, but it was she herself who’d gathered the wood.
‘Isla.’ Jayne grabbed her as she bustled past. Resus was screaming for another IVAC pump and Isla had finally resorted to running up to one of the wards and practically stealing one, but, from Isla’s fairly blinkered view of Resus this morning, they really needed it, and desperate times called for desperate measures. ‘Sav wants a word with you in his office.’
She’d been waiting all morning, the occasional glimpse of his busy head all she’d been privy to. Gone was the smiling, easygoing consultant, his unusually prickly mood setting the whole department on edge, but even though finally she would get to talk to him, work had to come first.
‘I’ll just give Nicole this pump—’
‘I can do that.’
‘It’s on my way.’ Isla shrugged. ‘Surely Sav can wait two minutes. They need to start a streptokinase infusion for a confirmed AMI.’
‘He’s going to Theatre instead,’ Jayne answered as Isla turned, practically wrestling the pump from her. ‘So they don’t need it now. I think you’d better go and see Sav.’ Isla felt the beginning of a frown pucker her brow as Jayne pointed in the direction of Sav’s office. She walked across the shiny floors of the department to Sav’s untidy office.
And the frown stayed.
Stayed as she walked in and closed the door behind her.
Horrible truth began to dawn.
It was busy out there, so why was Sav in here?
Why was Sav holding his pen and staring at it, barely able to look her in the eye, directing her with his hand to a chair at his desk as if she were a patient…
Or a relative.
She could almost hear the kookaburras in the trees again, the sun blistering the back of her neck, when Sav finally looked up.
‘This isn’t about us, is it?’ She gave a completely out-of-place laugh, crossed her legs then uncrossed them, fiddled with her name tag then shook her head in dismay when finally Sav spoke.
‘It’s your father, Isla.’
‘No.’ She wasn’t sure if she’d actually said it. Her mouth was moving, the word was there, but she didn’t really hear it, just dragging in stuffy air, waiting for Sav to calm her, for Sav to step in and reassure her, to tell her it really wasn’t that bad.
But he didn’t.
‘He’s in Resus, Isla. He had an AMI an hour ago. Your mother’s in there with him. She’s been wonderful…’ And on he went, telling her how Carmel had found him, given him aspirin while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. How she didn’t—they didn’t—want Isla to just walk in and see him in Resus. But she couldn’t absorb it, couldn’t really believe what she was hearing. ‘Do you want me to take you to him?’
‘In a moment.’ She gave a brief nod, trying to compose herself, trying to silence the million questions whirring through her mind, to somehow come to terms with the next cruel blow that seemed to be aimed at her. But Sav was already standing, a moment more for Peter clearly not one he could guarantee.
‘He’s very sick, Isla. As soon as they can, they’re taking him for an angio so we really ought to get over there.’
On legs that felt like jelly she walked through the department, vaguely aware of the sympathetic stares being cast in her direction from colleagues. Sav guided her, his hand loosely at her elbow, but when the resus doors slid open, when she saw her own father so grey and ill and frail on the resus bed, she felt his grip tighten, literally holding her up and guiding her forward.
‘Dad.’ Taking his hand, she held it, smiling as his eyes flicked open. ‘Try and rest now. You’re going to be OK.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Peter shook his head against the pillow. ‘You don’t need this now, after all—’
‘Dad, what I need is for you to get well, so rest. Please,’ she added, but Peter’s eyes turned to Sav.
‘Look after her for me…’
‘Rest,’ Sav said gently. ‘You need—’
‘I need you to tell me you’ll look after my girl!’
The silence seemed to go on for ever, broken only by the irregular bleeps from the monitor and Peter’s ragged, hoarse breaths, until finally Sav stepped forward.
‘I will always do my best for Isla.’ Sav gripped his father-in-law’s shoulders and stared him directly in the eye as he spoke. ‘So stop worrying, Peter. Let us all just concentrate on getting you well.’
And he did his best.
Taking them through the appalling blur of the day, translating the doctors’ long speeches into basic English, as much as for Isla as for Carmel, Isla’s brain utterly unable to fathom much else.
‘They needed to operate, they had no choice—he really needs this bypass,’ Sav reiterated as the hours ticked by and they sat huddled on hard chairs outside the theatre waiting area, praying for no one to appear, finally understanding the saying that no news really was good news.
‘He’s too weak,’ Isla said.
‘Then you have to be strong,’ Sav said resolutely. ‘It’s his only chance. The arteries are completely blocked.’ He glanced down at his watch. ‘I’ll get the boys.’
‘I’ll ring Louise—’ Isla started, but Sav shook his head.
‘They need to hear it from one of us, Isla.’
‘He’s a good man.’ Carmel smiled after Sav had gone. ‘A very good man.’
‘I know,’ Isla whispered, watching his broad shoulders that bore so much weight moving down the corridor.
And later, much later, when she slid the key in the front door, directed her mother to the sofa and finally let out the breath she seemed to have been holding for ever, Sav proved it again.
‘I should get home.’ Carmel pushed the cheese on toast Sav had made around her plate, screwing her face up as she took a sip of the large brandy Sav had pushed into her hand. ‘If the hospital rings—’
‘You’re staying here.’ Sav’s voice was insistent. ‘I’ve made up the bed in the spare room and I’ll ring the hospital in a moment to get an update and tell them where you are. You really can’t be alone tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ Sitting, drooping with exhaustion on the bed in a nightdress she’d only ever worn on the maternity ward, Isla looked up as Sav came out of the en suite. His boxers and T-shirt were as out of place as her own attire. ‘Thank you for not saying anything to Mum.’
‘I’m not that much of a bastard.’ He saw the pain flash across her face and changed tack. ‘Sleep, Isla.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You have to.’
‘What about tomorrow?’ Her voice wobbled as she pulled back the sheets, nerves and ears on elastic, dreading the ringing of the phone as Sav flicked out the overhead light, leaving only the bedside lamp on as he climbed into the bed beside her. ‘Sav, what about tomorrow?’
‘We’ll deal with it.’
‘We?’ Hope flared in her soul but died in an instant as she felt the shake of his head on the pillow next to her.
‘Not that sort of we. What I said yesterday still stands.’
‘So why are you here?’ Isla asked, the bitterness evident in her voice. ‘What was that little speech about to my father?’
‘Because I love your family, love them as much as my own, and I know that now isn’t the time for them to find out we have separated.’
‘We haven’t…’
‘We have.’ His voice was unequivocal. ‘And I wasn’t lying with what I said to your father. Whatever happens I will always do my best for you.’
‘And leaving’s best?’
‘This is not the time to go over things. We really are over. However, for your parents’ sake, we will delay telling them…’
‘It won’t work.’ She shook her head, tears cascading down her cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. ‘The boys will say something…’
‘Have you told them?’ He watched as her eyes screwed closed and she shook her head. ‘Then we’ll wait two weeks. I’ll come home, we’ll carry on as normally as we can, but once your fat
her’s better…’
‘What if he’s not?’ Terrified eyes lifted to his.
‘Then we all have to somehow pick up the pieces.’
CHAPTER TEN
IT SEEMED almost incongruous that at such an appallingly dark time happiness could even glimmer at the edges.
But it did.
Carmel taught Harry to tie his shoelaces, forcing Isla to cough up twenty dollars.
Luke lost two more teeth in one hit which, after Sav’s extravagance, meant the poor tooth fairy was seriously in the red. Sav cooked paella thirteen nights in a row, somehow managing to juggle it all, somehow managing to be there, and one night, when Carmel was home, when the twins were asleep and life was almost normal, his hand reached out, pulling her towards him in the darkness, his hand slipping into the appalling nightdress, capturing her breast, his body spooning in behind her, loaded with desire. And even if he was asleep, even if the gesture wasn’t conscious, it brought the first peace Isla had had for weeks. Lying next to him, being held by him, it took all the willpower she possessed not to turn around and kiss those full, sensual lips, not to take full advantage of the sudden intimacy. And even though she knew, just knew he would reciprocate, Isla couldn’t bear to see the regret in his eyes the next morning…
The gang in Emergency, aware of part of Isla’s plight, decided to put the usual initiation period for a newcomer on hold and embrace her fully into the clique, waving her into Resus if anything interesting came in, adding her to the coffee and cake roster, even letting her take every last patient—even if she hadn’t so much as lain eyes on them up till then—up to CCU so she could grab a quick five minutes with her father.
‘You’re looking good, Dad,’ Isla commented one day, peeling a bruising banana and grinning at the amazingly pink face that smiled back at her. She hoped Sav could see it as clearly as she could. Yes, Peter missed Casey, mourned him, yearned for him, but it hadn’t just been his grandson’s death that had brought him here, he’d been ill all along. ‘They’ll be kicking you out soon.’
‘Tomorrow!’ Grinning from ear to ear, selecting a banana of his own, Peter didn’t notice the smile disappear from his daughter’s face. ‘The doc just came round and told me that if I can walk to the lift and back this afternoon and there’s no funny stuff with my heart between now and the next ward round, I can go home.’
Emergency--A Marriage Worth Keeping Page 10
