‘Can we go up to Intensive Care—see her?’ Helen whispered.
‘Of course, but then I would suggest you go home, get some sleep. It’s after midnight—’
‘I’m staying,’ Helen said firmly.
‘I really don’t think—’
‘I’m staying, too,’ Tom interrupted, and the consultant smiled a little ruefully.
‘I thought you might. I’m afraid we can’t offer you much in the way of accommodation—just somewhere to sleep and wash—but, please, use it. You won’t help your daughter by getting ill yourselves.’
‘Is there anything we can do to help Emma?’ Helen asked as they followed the consultant along the corridor and up the stairs to Intensive Care.
‘Talk to her. It doesn’t matter what the subject is—the weather, the price of beans. The brain’s a funny thing, and even though you might think she can’t hear you, there’s very strong evidence to suggest that the sound of your voice could bring her back.’
Bring her back? Did the consultant mean Emma might slip into a coma? People could stay in a coma for weeks, months. There were cases of people staying in one for years.
Helen glanced quickly across at Tom, and he met her gaze.
‘Do you remember when she was three and she fell off her tricycle and hit her head on the pavement? And then when she was five, she ate some of your birth-control pills?’
An uneven chuckle broke from her. ‘She…she does seem to be accident-prone, doesn’t she? But—’
‘She got through all those crises,’ he declared, ‘and she’ll get through this one, too. We’ll get her through it, Helen. We will.’
We.
Never had the word sounded so good. Never had she so needed to hear it. He might have fallen in love with somebody else but he wasn’t going to abandon her, leave her to go through this alone. And she couldn’t go through it alone. As they walked into the intensive care unit, and she saw the array of all too frighteningly familiar monitors, and Emma lying so waxen, so still, with only the slow rising and falling of her little chest indicating that she was still alive, Helen knew that she could never have gone through this alone.
‘I know everything looks a bit scary,’ a plump nurse said understandingly as she checked the IV bag hanging over Emma’s head. ‘But everything’s there for a purpose. I’m Sue, by the way,’ she added. ‘Sister Kate and I will be looking after your daughter while she’s with us so if you want or need anything, just let us know, OK?’
I just want her back, Helen thought as the nurse bustled away. I want my Emma back, being loud and snippy, and fighting with her brother, and being a right royal pain. I just want her back.
‘She’s strong,’ Tom said firmly, clearly reading her mind. ‘She’ll come through this. I know she will.’
Where did Tom get his certainty, his strength? She wished she had half of it. Talk to Emma, the consultant had said, but how could she talk when all she wanted was to rage and scream at the unfairness of it, and then burst into tears?
‘It doesn’t matter what we talk about, remember,’ he said. ‘All we have to do is talk—let her know we’re here.’
‘I know, but…’
‘It’s OK, Helen, it’s OK,’ he murmured, and he lifted their daughter’s hand and began to talk.
He talked to Emma about her schoolfriends, her favourite CDs and the holiday they’d spent in Cornwall last year. He talked through the long dark night and into the next day until his voice was cracked and hoarse, his face grey with fatigue, and as Helen sat beside him and listened she wondered why in the world she had ever been attracted to Mark Lorimer.
What she felt for him wasn’t real. It was a fantasy, created because she’d felt neglected, taken for granted, and when Mark had paid attention to her, flattered her, she’d thought it was love. It wasn’t love. It was what you felt for a film star you fantasised about, or an actor on TV, but Tom…. Tom was real, and honest, and she loved him.
And now he’d found somebody else. Somebody he loved more than her. But she wasn’t going to give him up without a fight. Not Tom. Not her Tom.
Saturday passed in an endless blur of cups of coffee, of sandwiches eaten but not tasted. Emma was taken off the ventilator to see if she could breathe on her own, and to their relief she did, but still she didn’t move or open her eyes.
‘You really should try to get some sleep,’ Sue said, gazing critically at them both when she came on duty. ‘If you’re not careful, the pair of you are going to end up ill, and that won’t help Emma at all.’
‘I’m fine,’ Helen insisted, and Tom nodded his agreement, but the nurse shook her head.
‘Far be it for me to call a specialist registrar and an SHO liars, but neither of you look particularly fine.’
She was right, they didn’t, but how to explain to the nurse her feeling that if she fell asleep Emma might lose her grip on life and die?
‘I’m fine,’ she repeated, and Sue sighed but she didn’t press the matter.
‘Do you want anything to eat?’ Tom asked once the nurse had moved to the bottom of the unit to talk to one of her colleagues. ‘A sandwich—some soup?’
Was it morning or night—breakfast or lunchtime? It was impossible to tell in the windowless surroundings of Intensive Care.
‘Just a coffee, please,’ she replied.
‘I won’t be long,’ he said, and as he left she knew he wouldn’t be.
He hadn’t left her side, apart from essential things like going to the toilet or getting her something to eat or drink. Always he’d been there, bolstering her up, telling her to be positive. But it was so hard to be positive.
If Emma died…
Stop it, she told herself, closing her eyes tightly to stop the hot tears she could feel welling in her eyes from trickling down her cheeks. Falling apart isn’t going to help anybody, least of all Emma. Tom says she can hear you, that she’s going to get better, and you’ve got to believe that, because if you don’t it means you’ve given up hope, and you mustn’t ever do that.
‘Mummy, why are you crying?’
Helen’s eyes flew open. Had she imagined it? Surely she must have imagined it, but as she glanced down a cry came from her—a cry of joy, and relief, and overwhelming thanks. Emma’s eyes were open and she was looking at her.
‘Emma…. You…you know me?’
The girl frowned. ‘Of course I do. What kind of dumb question is that?’
The best dumb question in the world, Helen thought, beckoning frantically to Sue who ran towards her, took one look at Emma, then shot out of Intensive Care to find the consultant.
‘Mummy, you didn’t answer me,’ Emma continued. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘Because…’ Helen gave a hiccuping laugh. ‘Because I’m so happy, sweetheart.’
Emma’s frown deepened. ‘That’s even dumber. Nobody cries when they’re happy.’
‘It’s a mum thing.’ Helen smiled through her tears. ‘When you’re older—have children of your own—you’ll understand.’
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘I’m here, love.’
He was, and Emma shook her head and sighed when she saw he was crying, too.
‘Don’t tell me. It’s a dad thing, too.’
Tom could only nod, and when the consultant arrived and performed various tests, they waited on tenterhooks until he pronounced himself well pleased.
‘She’s turned the corner at last, but I think this young lady needs to rest right now,’ he said with a smile, seeing Emma’s eyelids beginning to droop.
‘She’s going to be all right?’ Helen said anxiously. ‘I mean—’
‘She’s not going to lapse into unconsciousness again,’ the consultant reassured her. ‘She’s going to be just fine, Helen.’
And she wanted to kiss him, but she knew she probably shouldn’t so she reached for Tom instead, and he hugged her, and she sobbed into his neck with relief and joy.
‘Oh, Tom, I thought…I was so frightened that…
’
‘I know, I know,’ Tom said, his cheeks as wet as hers. ‘But she’s all right, Helen. She’s all right.’
‘You must go and tell Gideon and Annie,’ she declared. ‘They’ve been so good to us—covering for us so we could stay here, looking after John.’
Actually, they’d been marvellous. When Helen had tried to thank them, Gideon had got cross, and Annie had shrugged off her thanks impatiently.
‘You’d have done the same for us if we’d needed it,’ was all she’d said.
‘Are you sure you’ll be OK if I go up to Obs and Gynae?’ Tom asked. ‘I don’t like to leave you.’
Her heart contracted slightly. She wished he meant that, but there would be time enough to talk about their marriage later.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with an uneven smile. ‘I might try to get some sleep. You go up to the ward, and give Annie and Gideon the good news.’
‘Mr Hart will be pleased to hear it, too,’ Sue declared, overhearing her. ‘He popped in earlier this morning to ask how Emma was.’
‘David Hart’s here?’ Tom exclaimed, and the nurse nodded.
‘He said he had an appointment with your boss to discuss your new infertility clinic.’
‘Then today’s…?’
‘Sunday.’
An odd expression had appeared on her husband’s face and Helen gazed at him with concern. ‘Tom, are you OK?’
For a second he didn’t answer, then he straightened his shoulders. ‘I won’t be long, Helen.’
‘Take as long as you like,’ she declared. ‘Like you said, everything’s all right now.’
And it was, she thought, tenderly staring down at her daughter as Tom hurried away. Emma was sleeping, but it was a natural sleep now, not that awful, terrifying, unconscious one.
‘It’s time you got some sleep, too,’ Sue said firmly, and Helen laughed shakily.
‘Do I look that bad?’
‘Actually, you look like one very relieved mum.’
I feel like one, too, Helen thought as she left Intensive Care, but Mark clearly didn’t think so as he came round the corner and saw her. He took one look at her tear-stained face, and strode towards her, his hands outstretched. ‘Oh, Helen, I’m sorry, so sorry…’
‘No, no, you’ve misunderstood,’ she cried. ‘She’s just woken up, Mark, and she knows us. Emma knows us.’
He stared at her in disbelief, then whirled her around in his arms.
‘Oh, Helen, that’s wonderful news—the very best. I was coming to say goodbye. I’m just leaving for the airport, you see, and—’
‘You’re leaving right now?’ she interrupted.
‘You can’t have forgotten that this is my last day.’ He laughed, but in truth she had.
In truth, she hadn’t thought about him at all since Emma had been taken to Intensive Care.
‘Mark—’
‘I’ve been trying, and trying, to persuade the authorities at my new hospital in Canada to let me stay on here for another month, but they’ve point-blank refused to budge, and I’ve been wondering how I was going to give you my support when I’m in Canada, and you’re here in Glasgow, but now…’ He smiled. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’
Tom would never have gone to Canada and left her alone with Emma, she thought as she stared up into Mark’s handsome face. Tom wouldn’t have suggested that somehow, some way, he might manage to give her long-distance support, and Tom wasn’t even in love with her any more.
She held out her hand to him. ‘Good luck in Canada, Mark. I hope it turns out the way you want.’
‘But you’ll be able to find out yourself,’ he exclaimed. ‘When you join me there.’
‘Join you there?’ she echoed. ‘Mark—’
‘When Emma had her accident I bought you an open plane ticket, which means you can fly out to Canada to join me whenever she’s fit enough to travel.’
‘Mark, I’m not going to Canada.’
‘Not for a while, of course,’ he agreed. ‘Emma will probably be in hospital for quite a while yet, then she’ll need physiotherapy—’
‘Not ever, Mark.’
The smile on his face faded. ‘But I don’t understand. I thought it was all arranged, agreed, between us.’
‘I’m sorry, Mark,’ she said gently, ‘but I’m staying here. I have to.’
‘But why?’ he protested, his green eyes puzzled, confused. ‘Your marriage to Tom is over—’
‘Not if I can save it, it’s not.’
‘You want to save it?’ he exclaimed. ‘But why? I love you, and you love me…’ His lips twisted as she gazed up at him awkwardly. ‘You’re trying to tell me you don’t love me, aren’t you?’
She didn’t want to hurt him, but neither could she let him go on believing something that wasn’t true. ‘Mark, what I feel for you, and what I feel for Tom…It’s not the same, and it won’t ever be.’
‘You’re saying you still love Tom?’ he gasped, and when she nodded he shook his head. ‘But, Helen, I could give you so much…’
‘Maybe you could, but it’s not the same as giving me what I want, is it?’ He didn’t understand. She could see that he didn’t understand, and quickly she held out her hand to him, not sure whether he would take it or not, but he did. ‘Take care of yourself in Canada, Mark.’
‘You take care, too, and…well…’ He shrugged. ‘I guess all I can say is, be happy.’
‘I’ll try,’ she replied, smiling a little tremulously, and he reached out, and gently touched her hair.
‘I do love you, you know.’
‘I think you might think that you do.’
‘No. I don’t think, I know.’
‘Mark—’
‘I know, I’ve said enough.’ He straightened up with an effort. ‘Look, can I ask a favour? It will take you away from the hospital for a couple of hours, so if you want to refuse I’ll understand.’
‘What sort of favour?’ she said uncertainly.
‘Will you come with me to the airport? I know it’s silly,’ he continued as she tried to interrupt, ‘but I won’t be coming back to Scotland, and I’d very much like your face to be the last one I see when I leave.’
She owed him that much, she knew she did, and she nodded. ‘All right, I’ll come.’
And she would. She’d go out to the airport with Mark, and then she’d come back, and somehow, some way, she would win her husband back to her.
‘It’s wonderful news about your daughter,’ David Hart said as he accompanied Tom to the lift. ‘It must be a great relief to you and your wife.’
‘It is,’ Tom replied. ‘Emma will have to undergo physiotherapy for her pelvic injury, of course, and they’ll be monitoring her lung and head injuries, but the consultant is hopeful she might be able to leave hospital in three to four weeks.’
‘That’s tremendous,’ David Hart said. ‘I don’t have kids myself, but I know how I would have felt if it had been my sister Annie’s boy. Please, give my very best wishes to your wife, and tell her I’m so happy everything is going so well for her and for you.’
Not everything, Tom thought with a heavy heart as he shook David’s hand and stepped into the lift. Emma was going to fully recover, but he and Helen…
If Emma hadn’t had her accident they would have been in Venice now, in the small pensione with the creaking bedstead, but now…
Take it one day at a time, Tom, he told himself. Mark is leaving today, so you can take it one day at a time. All right, so Glasgow might not be able to rival Venice in the romantic stakes, but Helen’s still here with you, and you still have a chance to win her back.
But only if he could actually find her, he thought with a rueful smile when he found the small bedroom off Intensive Care empty. So much for Helen’s promise to try to get some sleep. Knowing her, she was probably still sitting by Emma’s bedside. But she wasn’t.
‘Do you know where my wife is?’ he asked, as one of the junior nurses hurried past.
‘She’s gone, Doctor.’
‘Gone?’ he repeated blankly. ‘Gone where?’
‘To the airport with Dr Lorimer.’ The girl looked at him curiously. ‘Are you all right, Dr Brooke?’
‘Yes,’ he managed to reply. ‘Yes…I…I’m fine.’
But he wasn’t fine. He was anything but fine as he stumbled out of the unit.
She’d gone. Helen had gone. Without a word of farewell, without even so much as a goodbye, she’d just gone to Canada with Mark.
How could she have done that? To leave him was one thing, but to leave Emma and John?
Well, she could just go if she wanted to, he thought savagely. He wasn’t going to beg and plead with her to stay. If she wanted to go with Mark then he and Emma and John would get along just fine without her.
Only they wouldn’t. Without Helen…A low moan came from him as he felt his heart twist and break inside. Without Helen he wouldn’t be living, only existing. He had to change her mind, make her stay. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but before he even thought about what he was doing he was racing towards the hospital exit, praying he’d get to the airport in time.
‘There’s still time for you to change your mind, you know,’ Mark said as he and Helen stood together at the departure gate. ‘OK, so you’d be travelling without so much as a toothbrush, but we could buy everything you need in Toronto.’
Helen shook her head. ‘I’ve made my choice, Mark.’
‘You have, and I’ll never understand it. OK, OK, I’ll say no more,’ he continued ruefully as she tried to interrupt. ‘I just hope Tom realises what a very lucky man he is.’
Her smile slipped a little. ‘You’d better get going or you’ll miss your flight.’
‘I guess so,’ he murmured, then the corner of his lips twitched slightly. ‘No chance of a farewell kiss, I suppose?’
‘Better not,’ she replied, and he grinned.
‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’
He was wrong. She did, but she didn’t want to be reminded of it. Not now. ‘Goodbye, Mark, safe journey.’
He nodded and reached for his hand luggage, but as he began to walk through the departure gate a pretty girl with long black hair collided into him. ‘Hey, what’s your rush?’ he demanded.
The Surgeon's Marriage Page 17
