eyes so it was hard to tell.
She scrubbed and came back in but this time when
she looked at him she knew he must be looking back
at her for he nodded.
Not that a nod meant much. It certainly didn’t mean
he was willing to be their baby’s guardian.
Their baby…
If only…
‘OK, Grace, take my place. I’d like you to detach
Scarlett’s heart and I’ll get the new one ready to put in.’
Grace pulled on the magnifying loupe and headlight
the assistant handed her and looked into Scarlett’s small
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chest, seeing the tiny, misshapen heart she would have
to remove. Someone—Phil or his assistant—had al-
ready cut away most of the ligaments that held the heart
muscle in place and already inserted the tubes to
connect her to the bypass machine.
She raised her head and looked at Theo.
‘On pump,’ she said, knowing this was one of the
most pivotal moments of the operation. Had Theo got
the pressure right? Would the machine successfully re-
move Scarlett’s blood, re-oxygenate it, remove the
carbon dioxide from it, and return it to her body in
good time, and at a pressure her arteries could handle?
‘On pump,’ he repeated, telling her the machine was
now doing the work. The heart lost colour almost im-
mediately, and Aaron administered cardioplegia to stop
it beating.
Grace worked around it, making sure there were no
tiny blood vessels still connected, checking the coro-
nary arteries were free of the muscle they supplied with
blood, ready to start cutting and clamping them the
moment the heart stopped.
Then the moment, one the whole team always
seemed to feel—tense, as if the responsibility for
stopping someone’s heart rested on all their heads.
But Grace had no time for philosophy. She had to
work, and work swiftly, for the shorter the time Scarlett
was on pump the less chance there was of damage to
some other part of her body.
Careful to leave little buttons of vessels for Phil to
use when attaching the new heart, Grace removed the
damaged, malformed heart and handed it to one of the
theatre sisters, knowing it would go not into a bin, as
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159
Kelly had suggested, but into another cool-box because
someone, somewhere not too far away, would be study-
ing genetic heart disease and every heart they had to
inspect and dissect could provide new clues.
‘OK, Grace, you’ve had a big day, you’re now offi-
cially off duty, so beat it,’ Phil told her, when he moved
back into his position to attach the new heart.
‘You don’t need me?’ she asked, knowing she
couldn’t go back to her soulless flat after such an emo-
tional afternoon and evening.
‘Definitely not. Go get some rest. You’ve been a
trouper!’
Grace backed away reluctantly, glancing towards
Theo whose entire attention was focussed on the
machine.
She had to talk to him. She knew that, but as she
stripped off her theatre clothes she realised he’d be in
Theatre for at least another three hours and then if
Scarlett left Theatre still on ECMO, which was highly
likely, he’d want to stay with her for a while.
But as she showered, the aftermath of the tension of
the flight draining the last of her energy from her body,
she remembered she still had a key to his house. She’d
go there and wait for him, because she had to talk to
him, and if there was one thing her near-death experi-
ence in the plane had taught her, or at least reaffirmed,
it was to not put off until tomorrow what could be done
today.
OK, so he might not be home until tomorrow but at
least she’d be there ready to talk.
She dressed again in the tired, dirty clothes she’d
been wearing all day—with most of her clothes still at
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Theo’s she’d had no spares to leave at work—and made
her way out of the hospital, knowing there’d be a cab
outside—a cab to take her to Theo’s house.
Theo watched her leave the theatre, his heart aching at
the weariness he read in her movements, his joy in
finding she was still alive tempered now by his concern
for her.
He cursed the fact he couldn’t leave with her—
couldn’t even speak to her or touch her.
Even think about her for more than a second, for his
whole attention had to be on Scarlett and the machine.
But later, as soon as he was free, he’d go to Grace, talk
to her, tell her how he felt.
Phil worked with neat precision, making tiny stitches
around the circumference of minute veins and arteries,
putting a new heart into the chest of the little battler
they’d all grown to love.
Love! As if anyone could cut love totally out of their
life, for without it, what was life about?
And Grace—perhaps Grace could grow to love him,
given time…
‘OK,’ Phil said, glancing up at Theo. ‘Are we ready?’
It was the most climactic moment of a very tense
operation and Theo could feel it in the air, everyone
alert—praying…
‘Off pump,’ Phil said, and while his assistant and the
surgical sisters peered into the chest cavity, seeking
any signs of bleeding that would tell them a vein or
artery connection had a leak, Phil and Theo watched the
heart—watched the flaccid muscle slowly gaining form
and colour as blood filtered back into it.
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161
Would it beat?
Would they have to shock it?
Drugs were already running into Scarlett’s blood,
drugs to help the new heart beat, drugs to stop her
immune system rejecting it. They’d done all they
could…
The first movement was barely discernible then
someone gave a cheer, and the little heart began to beat
with a regular rhythm, so miraculous they all stood in
awed silence and watched the movement.
‘Check again for any haemorrhage,’ Phil said, but
although they’d made myriad small joins, there were no
leaks. Now he had to stitch the pericardium back in
place, then join the muscles and tendons they’d had to
cut, ease back the lung and finally wire the sternum
back together.
‘Or will you leave it open?’ someone asked, and
Theo looked at Phil, wondering what he’d answer.
Babies’ chests were sometimes left open after an
operation when there was a chance something would
fail and the surgeon might need to get back in there very
quickly, but this time Phil shook his head.
‘No,’ he said, ‘we’ll close her up. This new heart’s
going to work, I can feel it in my bones.’
> Another small cheer went up and the registrar began
the task of closing, Phil stripping off his loupe and
handing it to a circulating nurse before crossing the
theatre to the bins and beginning to take off his theatre
garb.
But before he left the theatre he looked back at Theo.
‘I meant what I said,’ he said, and Theo had to think
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THE HEART SURGEON’S BABY SURPRISE
back—wondering exactly which bit of their conversa-
tion Phil now meant.
The bit about telling Grace?
Or about not leaving it too late?
He had to assume that was it, and as he watched over
the baby girl through the remainder of her operation and
went with her to Post-Op, wanting to be sure the ECMO
machine was doing the least possible work, he consid-
ered it, deciding, when he finally walked out of the
hospital in the pre-dawn light, that if he was going to
tell her how he felt, he had to do it now!
He left his car in the hospital car park and walked
down the road to Grace’s flat, knowing the fresh air
would make him feel more alive, although thinking
about telling Grace he loved her had most of his nerves
synapsing very efficiently.
The door into the foyer was locked, but as Theo
walked around behind the big bush in the front yard,
thinking he might find a stone and use the time-honoured
method of throwing it against Grace’s window, miracle
of miracles, who should appear but Jean-Luc, opening
the door and leaving it ajar, obviously just going out for
a short time, a jog in the park from the look of the clothes
he wore.
Theo didn’t actually hide from the Frenchman, but
he didn’t make his presence known either, still feeling
embarrassed about his last meeting at the house with
Jean-Luc. And as Jean-Luc strode across the road, and
stopped to stretch against the park fence, Theo slipped
into the foyer and up the stairs to Grace’s flat where he
knocked quietly on the door, and then more loudly,
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163
finally realising she was either so fast asleep he’d never
wake her with knocking, or she wasn’t home.
But the only reason she’d not be home was because
she was at the hospital—probably waiting with the
Robinsons until Scarlett was out of Theatre. He should
have thought of that, and checked there first, but right
now he was too darned tired to go back up the road, too
tired to even think, so he slid down onto the floor, rested
his head against the doorjamb, and fell asleep.
Having convinced herself Theo wouldn’t mind if she
just rested on his bed while she waited for him, Grace
lay down and was soon fast asleep.
She slept well and deeply, the various tensions of the
day draining out of her, the smell of Theo on the pillows
and the sheets so comforting that as she turned over and
hazily came part-awake, she wondered if she could stay
snuggled in Theo’s bed for ever.
But waking, well into the morning, and finding him
still not home sent her into a panic. What had she been
thinking, coming here like this?
They had not been together for weeks—wasn’t it
feasible he already had another woman in his life?
And what if he came home with her? How much
trouble would he be in if his current girlfriend found
Grace in his bed?
But the thought of Theo with another woman made
her weepy, so she decided she wouldn’t think about that
again. She’d have a shower, put on clean clothes—at
last—pack up the things she’d left here, and go quietly
back home. Yes, she had to talk to Theo, but she’d been
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emotionally overwrought when she’d decided she had
to do it right there and then.
Coming to his house like this!
How could she?
He saw a cab turning out of his street but cabs were
always around in this area. It wasn’t until he opened his
front door and smelt Grace’s perfume that he wondered
about the cab because she had definitely been there. Not
only been there, but she’d packed up all her things.
She was gone!
He’d left it too late.
Or had he?
If she was in the cab he’d seen she’d be home in a
few minutes, but in the meantime she’d have her mobile
on.
He tried it, only to find it was turned off.
He made a cup of coffee for himself then phoned the
flat, but no joy there.
His neck ached from the awkward position in which
he’d fallen asleep and his exhaustion was so great he
knew he had to sleep. He tipped the coffee down the
sink, rinsed the cup, then made his way up to his bed-
room where Grace’s perfume was even stronger.
It pulled him towards the bed, and, wrapping his
arms around a pillow that still, miraculously, smelt of
her, he went to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
GRACE directed the cab to her home address first so she
could drop off her small suitcase, then, as anxious as a
relative, she headed back to the hospital to see how
Scarlett was doing.
‘She’s so well I don’t think she’ll be with us much
longer,’ Jasmine told Grace, taking her to the crib where
the little girl lay, flanked by her parents. ‘She’ll be
graduating to the ward within days, won’t she, Mrs
Robinson?’
Mrs Robinson’s smile was enough to ease a lot of the
pain in Grace’s heart, and as she looked at the little girl
for whom she’d been through so much, she knew every
second of the tortuous flight had been worthwhile.
Worthwhile too, in other ways, she knew that. So
she’d overreacted, rushing off to Theo’s the way she had
last night, but she had to talk to him. If he didn’t want
to be the baby’s guardian—didn’t want more than the
rights she’d originally proposed—then she’d have to
live with that.
And with heartache as well, because hearts—can
you hear me, Kelly?—definitely did ache.
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She left the hospital, this time not walking back
towards her flat but down the other road, to the brasse-
rie—a place that had somehow become ‘their’ place.
Although only lovers—as in people in love—had
special places…
Sitting over chai and fruit toast in the pretty court-
yard, deserted now the ‘breakfast before work’ clien-
tele had departed, Grace thought back to when she and
Theo had first sat here and she’d put her proposition to
him. She should have realised then how very kind he
was, not mocking her, as many men would have done,
or suggesting they leap straight into bed.
No, he’d treated her halting explanations seriously,
had even seemed to understand how she’d come
to the
stage where she was asking a virtual stranger to help
her conceive a baby.
But, then, he’d been through such terrible trauma
himself—of course he’d be empathic. And he’d been
gentle too—kind…
‘I’ve been searching the city for you!’ The kind and
gentle man sounded extremely angry. ‘Worrying about
you. And I’ve got a crick in my neck from sleeping
outside your front door.’
Grace stared at him, wondering if he was a mirage
her thoughts had conjured up.
No, her thoughts had been conjuring up a very dif-
ferent Theo, not this shadow-eyed, drawn-faced streak
of angry masculinity standing over her.
‘You slept outside my door? Why would you do
that?’
His shoulders relaxed and he slumped into a chair.
‘Oh, Grace, if there’s one thing a person can expect
MEREDITH WEBBER
167
from you it’s to expect the unexpected. Not why am I
angry but why did I sleep outside your door? Because
I wanted to talk to you, of course.’
‘Oh!’ she whispered, and held her hand against her
lips, not wanting anything more to come out before
she’d thought about it. Not that the hand over her lips
routine worked. Oh, no, here she was, blurting out the
first thing that came into her head.
‘I went to your place. I wanted to talk to you as well.
I had a key. I hope you didn’t mind that I used it and
went in, then I fell asleep…’
‘You were in my house and you fell asleep?’ He
stood up again as if he needed more space to contain
his anger, although she wasn’t entirely sure the emo-
tion simmering in his tense body was all anger. ‘I’m
running all over town looking for you and you’re
sleeping in my bed?’
‘I didn’t mean to sleep but I was tired.’
Fortunately at that stage a waitress appeared to ask
Theo if he wanted anything. Grace took advantage of
the interruption to take a deep breath, settle the nerves
that were doing little dances of excitement because
Theo had wanted to talk to her, and decide to take
charge of the situation before it became even more
farcical.
‘Sit down, Theo,’ she ordered when the waitress had
taken his order and disappeared towards the kitchen.
‘I’m sorry if you were inconvenienced, and about the
crick in your neck but I do want to talk to you and
here’s a good place to do it.’
He sat, but obviously wasn’t mollified.
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