Jenny nodded. 'You're a very good midwife and you obviously enjoy the work. Why do you want to be a theatre nurse?'
'It just appeals to me,' Miranda admitted. 'But I don't think I could ever give up midwifery completely.'
Jenny looked at her directly. 'It's personal but I can still ask. Are you interested in being a neonatal theatre nurse or interested in the neonatal surgeon?'
Miranda blushed. 'I've always been interested in being a theatre nurse. It just wasn't possible where I came from. And Mr Sinclair has been helpful.'
'Fine,' said Jenny. 'I'll let him know you're coming.
Miranda felt the first throb of excitement as she started to scrub up. Jenny's question came back to her and she thought about it. Was she more interested in being a theatre nurse or being with Jack?
Probably a bit of both.
She still wasn't sure how they stood. Did he understand why she had asked him to stop on Saturday night? She hoped so. But he hadn't said much. And he hadn't called on Sunday.
She saw that he was back to being his cool stern self when he walked into the theatre. A quick look round, a nod to everyone there. No special nod for her, and she couldn't tell from his eyes whether he was smiling or not. Well, she would see how things were afterwards. But she desperately hoped that they were all right.
He said, 'Today we have to correct a case of pyloric stenosis. The exit between the stomach and the duodenum was blocked at birth. I shall make sure the blockage is removed and all should then be well.'
This time she didn't just sit and watch Charlotte. Instead, she tried to guess what Charlotte would do next, work out how she pre-guessed Jack's actions. She got quite a lot right.
When the operation was over and they were leaving the theatre, he came to speak to her. 'See me in the corridor on twenty minutes? When we've got changed?' His voice was mild, calm.
'All right,' she said. She tried to be as calm as him but she didn't know if she had succeeded. She wondered what he wanted to see her for.
It was a bit of a surprise when he did meet her—he was still in the black suit, but this time wearing a bright blue shirt. It appeared to be linen and it looked very good on him.
'I like your shirt,' she said.
'Toby bought it for me.'
'Looks good. Why did you want to see me?' She felt happier than any time since he had left on Saturday night. Things between them were going to be all right.
He took her arm, led her down the corridor. 'We've been seen together. People are beginning to gossip.'
'Of course they are. This is a hospital. You'll never stop gossip.'
'Just for once, I don't particularly want to stop it. I want to make a statement, a proclamation. To you and to everyone else. I'd like you to come and have tea with me in the hospital canteen.'
She hadn't expected this. In fact, she hadn't been sure what kind of reception she might get and this invitation rather disturbed her. 'Why?' she asked. 'I'd love to have tea with you, but specially why?'
'On Saturday night I was angry with you. I could see your point. I know you were trying to think of my ultimate happiness. But what you did was make a decision for me. Surely I should have been consulted?'
She hadn't thought of it that way. 'I suppose so,' she said cautiously.
'And I thought we had an agreement. We were going to see how things progressed. Take things easy, get to know each other.'
'You were doing a bit more than getting to know me on Saturday night,' she pointed out with a grin.
'I was indeed. And I was thoroughly enjoying it. But let's get back to the main point. I want to know you better. To hell with the future, I want today.'
She sighed. 'When you'd gone on Saturday night, I was so miserable,' she said. 'But I was vaguely proud of myself. I'd done something right and proper. I'd thought of you rather than me. And now I'm going to have tea with you and it'll spoil all my good intentions.'
'A shared meal in the hospital canteen is not a major commitment.'
'It will be to everyone watching,' she said. 'Still. Let's get a tray and join the queue.'
There was no doubt, they were being noticed. She noticed curious eyes, half-hidden smiles. And they found a table to themselves. 'Will anyone join us?' she asked.
'I hope not. The last thing I want is a conversation about medical affairs.'
No one did join them. Which was, for her, an unusual occurrence. Even Annie passed them with a quick smile and went to sit on her own. 'I think we've started something,' Miranda said.
'Good. Well, I think it's good.' He picked up his fork and began to push salad about his plate. 'You know I've had affairs before, Miranda.'
'Well, surprise me,' she said sardonically.
'Quite so. But now things seem to be different with you. There seem to be different ground rules. And of all things, my family is mysteriously taking an interest in you. That has never happened before. Both Toby and Carly have been asking about you. So far, I've kept my social life away from them. But now they want to know all about you and me. And it's hard to deal with.'
She felt a thrill, half excitement, half pride. 'Do you like this interest?'
He had to think. 'I wasn't looking forward to it, but now, yes, I suppose I do. And it's all because you tried to blackmail me. Make me a nice man when I didn't want to be one.'
'You always were a nice man. You just didn't want to show it.'
'Perhaps.' He looked at her as yet untouched lunch. 'Why aren't you eating your salad?'
She picked up her fork. 'Because I'm more interested in talking to you.'
For a while they both ate. Then she said, 'You know, I envy you your family? All mine are over in New Zealand and... well, we've just drifted apart. It must be wonderful having people so close who are really interested in you.'
'And so feel they are entitled to interfere?' he asked with a grin.
'Better to be interfered with than ignored. They do it because they love you. And you love them back, don't you?'
'I just try not to let them see it too much,' he said. 'But, yes, I love them back.'
It seemed that Miranda was fated to have conversations with the Sinclair family in the canteen. The next day she walked in for an afternoon cup of tea and was waved to by Carly, who was sitting alone.
'I could do with a bit of company,' said Carly. 'Things on the ward have been a bit fraught. We've got a screaming mother and a weeping father and there's just nothing you can do for them. Sometimes it's almost more than I can bear. Being a doctor, distancing yourself from emotions—it doesn't always work.'
'It seems to work for Jack.' Miranda smiled.
Carly smiled back. 'I like a girl with a sense of humour. But I suspect Jack feels as much or more than we do. He just hides it well.'
'Very well.'
Carly leaned over the table, tapped Miranda's wrist. 'He's my big brother. In effect, he's a father figure, too. He's nine years older than us, and he takes being a brother very seriously. We, Toby and I, said we wanted to be doctors at fifteen or so.. .you should have seen the way he made us work. And we love him for it. Don't mess about with Jack or you'll have the entire Sinclair clan to fight.'
'Me mess with Jack? Sometimes he terrifies me! And he has the whole department just where he wants it.'
'That's because he wants to get things right,' Carly said. Then she added quietly, 'You're not going to mess him about, are you?'
'I don't want to. I think... I think... I think I'm...'
'It's hard to say, isn't it?' Carly asked gently. 'And he doesn't make it any easier. Anyway, let's change the subject.'
'Tell me about your work in Chicago,' Miranda suggested.
Carly's eyes sparkled. 'It's fantastic stuff! Microsurgery like you've never seen it done before. It's going to revolutionise medicine. We can work on blood vessels, nerves—anything. Remember reading about the first heart transplants? Well, it's going to be bigger than that. Some of the techniques are a bit risky but.. .here.'
> She rummaged in her handbag, brought out an American medical magazine. 'You can borrow this for a week. It'll show you the kind of things that they're trying to do.'
'You're going back there?' Miranda asked.
Carly's face clouded. 'In time,' she said. 'When the situation with my mother has...sorted itself out.'
Later, Miranda was in the obs and gynae department, and looked up to see a man wandering around. She didn't know who he was but he seemed to be very important. You could tell by the suit, the tie, the way he held himself. What was he doing?
'Could I help you, sir?' she asked politely.
'I'd be pleased if you could, Midwife...Gale?' The man had peered at the pass hanging round her neck. 'My name is George Allen.' There was a pregnant pause. The man obviously expected to be recognised. When Miranda didn't respond he added, slightly irritated, 'I'm the hospital CEO. I'm looking for Mr Sinclair.'
'He's in the doctors' room. I'll show you the way there.'
Miranda strode down the corridor. She knocked and opened the door for the important Mr George Allen. Without thanking her, Mr Allen strode through. And just as Miranda closed the door, she heard him say, 'Jack, you've got to change your mind.'
Miranda knew it wasn't her business. What she was about to do was highly improper and she suspected that she could be sacked on the spot for it. But she suspected Jack might be.. .well, not in trouble, but likely to get in trouble. The hospital CEO had said exactly the wrong thing. If he and Jack were going to argue, Miranda wanted to know why. If there was a problem, she wanted to help Jack.
The linen store was right next door to the doctors' room. She knew just below the ceiling there was a ventilation brick between the two rooms. She had half heard conversations when in there before. So she went to the linen room, moved aside a bag of sheets, climbed up a couple of shelves and pressed her ear to the brick.
Unashamedly, she was going to eavesdrop. She wondered if the CEO was capable of outmanoeuvring Jack—or if Jack could be bothered to try to outmanoeuvre the CEO. Whatever, she wanted to help.
'This truncus arteriosus repair you've agreed to, Jack,' the CEO was saying. 'I think you should give up the idea. First, it's not your case, it should be handled by a Welsh trust. Second, you're not a neonatal cardiovascular surgeon. You're out of your area of expertise. Third, if the baby dies, it's bad for the hospital's reputation and bad for yours, too. The hospital might lose the chance of getting any extra funding.'
'So I just walk away from it?' Jack asked mildly. 'Look, this is an urgent case. That baby's going to die anyway unless someone does something. And for various reasons there just isn't a neonatal cardiovascular surgeon available at the moment. I've studied all the preliminary material. I've seen X-rays, had an echocardiographic examination, seen an angiography and the results of a cardiac catheterisation. I think I can do the job.'
'It's your decision, Jack. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to put it on record—it's a decision I don't agree with. I've got to cover myself.'
'Your choice, George. That child is in danger of pulmonary over-circulation and heart failure. I'm going to put that right. My reputation, the hospital's reputation— they'll both have to take their chances.'
There was the sound of a door slamming and Miranda turned. It wouldn't do to be found halfway up the wall of the linen store. Unfortunately, she turned too fast. Her heel caught in the wooden slats and with a little squeak of dismay she fell backwards, pulling bags of bedding with her. Even more unfortunately, there were some old tin bowls at the end of one of the shelves. The rattle they made as they fell could have been heard yards away. And certainly in the doctors' room.
Before she could collect herself, the door to the linen store was wrenched open. Fortunately—or unfortunately—it was Jack. He sounded concerned. 'Miranda, are you all right? I heard the crash. I wondered what had happened.'
Miranda pulled down her skirt, tried to look dignified and not guilty. 'I'm fine, thank you. I was...1 was looking for some sheets and I fell.'
He glanced round the little room, considered the piles of linen of the floor then looked at her thoughtfully. 'You were looking on the top shelf? Well, as you wish. Come on, I'll give you a hand up and then we can put everything back together.'
She might have got away with it. But there was the sound of a door slamming and from next door, wonderfully clearly, they both heard the sound of a male SHO's voice. 'I need coffee but I haven't time to wait for it to take effect. Do you think you could give me some intravenously?'
A female voice said, 'Would it mix with the alcohol already in your bloodstream?'
Jack looked round the room, fixed on the ventilation brick. Then he looked at Miranda.
All right, she'd own up. But not in the linen store. People could overhear what was being said. With a finger she beckoned Jack to come into the corridor. Once there... 'I was eavesdropping,' she whispered. 'I wanted to hear what the CEO had to say to you.'
His voice was cool. 'You know I can't approve of that, Miranda.'
'The man had that look in his eye, as if he was about to play some cunning trick. All he wants to do is make sure he's not to blame for anything. I'm on your side, I wanted to hear what he said so perhaps I could help.'
'You don't think I can fight my own battles?'
'You can fight battles. What you can't do is hospital management infighting. You just can't be bothered. Can you?'
He shook his head. 'Miranda, with you on my side, I don't need to be. an expert infighter. Now, you know I can't at all approve of junior staff trying to overhear the conversations of senior members of staff.'
'Sorry,' said Miranda, trying to look contrite and not succeeding very well. 'I'm afraid this is the new me. I don't back away from fights. In fact, I look for them.'
'You're telling me. However, it strikes me that this should be a disciplinary offence. I could blackmail you.'
'Into being pleasant?'
'Much more than pleasant,' he said, and she blushed.
'Tell me about this truncus arteriosus repair. Why are you particularly interested?'
He looked a little shamefaced. 'It's one of the most foolish reasons I've ever heard for offering to do an operation. Incidentally, the CEO is right. It isn't my responsibility.'
'But you're going to because...?'
'Little Gareth is a twin. He has a sister, Megan, who is perfectly OK. And I feel that there's something special about them, something special about their relationship. I want to preserve that if I can. Carly and Toby are twins and they're very different. But they've got a closeness that I can only envy. They're always there for each other.'
She was curious. 'Do you feel shut out?'
'Not shut out and we're all good to each other. But I know I'll never have that special closeness that they have and at times it upsets me.'
He was silent a moment and then he said, 'I'm going to mid-Wales for a day to study Gareth and talk to his doctors. Then if we agree that the operation is viable, and now is the time to do it, I'll perform the operation here. It'll be a big performance—there'll be all sorts of people in the theatre. And I want you to be one of them.'
'I can't be in the theatre! I can't do anything!'
'You can be there for me,' he said. 'Will you be?'
'All right,' she said.
That night she read up about truncus arteriosus repair. If was a congenital heart anomaly and if it wasn't put right—preferably as quickly as possible—then the child would almost certainly die within a year. There was a hole between two chambers in the heart, too little blood was travelling round the body. Jack would have to open the heart, commit a common arterial trunk to the left ventricle and reconstruct the right ventricle. Not an easy job on such a tiny body.
An operating theatre was no place for nerves and usually Jack had none. But this time he had to admit to a certain trepidation. The operation was complex and it was risky. No one quite knew what might happen, what pitfalls there might be.
&nb
sp; He would be under observation. There would experts in the theatre with him, ready to offer advice or even take over if necessary. There would be a crowded gallery watching him. And the whole operation would be recorded. If he made a mistake, he could watch it on playback. Again and again and again. But he didn't mind the CCTV camera. The film might be a good teaching tool. And someone might learn from his mistakes.
Stop thinking about mistakes! He was going to do this right!
His preparation had been rigorous, and there was nothing that could be learned that he didn't now know about Gareth's condition. He took one last breath and strode into the operating theatre.
The twins were already there; he looked round at his team. Calm eyes looked back at him. Then he looked round at the rest of the room, the onlookers. And there was Miranda—like him, masked and gowned. He could see her eyes and knew she was smiling at him. Their glances met and he felt strengthened.
He looked down. Focus! And in a moment Miranda was forgotten. Everything was forgotten. The only thing that existed was the tangled mass of blood vessels, nerves and tissue below him.
He stretched out his hand and Charlotte put the right scalpel into it.
* * *
He was nearly there. The last, most difficult cut and stitching and then he could start to close. Everyone round the table knew it. He could feel the tension, although no one said a word. For the first time in a couple of hours he lifted his gaze from the tiny baby below him and glanced around the theatre. There was Miranda. For a moment it was like the communion between his brother and sister. She knew what he was thinking, feeling. And the return message was perfectly clear. I have confidence in you, you can do it. Just have confidence in yourself…
He made the cut, started the stitching. All was well. There was a half-heard sigh of relief from those around the table. But he didn't pay any attention. Things were now going his way. He was going to succeed!
He did.
He had never heard it before. As he walked out of the theatre he was clapped. Just like a matinee idol! He examined his own feelings and was rather surprised. He was proud of himself.
A Surgeon, A Midwife - A Family Page 9
