Her plans were to no avail, though. The intercom buzzed and she had time only to run a quick comb through her hair.
‘You’re back already?’
Seb gave a small smile. ‘Chris said the wedding was awful and he was glad of the excuse to get away. Still, he was there long enough to hear about your lecture.’
‘My lecture? But how?’
‘News has filtered back that a star is born. Apparently Professor Hays, buoyed by a couple of glasses of champagne, is walking around singing your praises. How’s Billy been?’
Lucinda gestured to the sleeping child. ‘He’s been fine, we had a great night. He fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago. He had all his pumps,’ she said before Seb had a chance to ask. ‘Any news at the hospital? How’s Kimberley?’
Seb shook his head. ‘Not good, I’m afraid. I didn’t see her but apparently there’s an NFR order.’
Lucinda turned away and busied herself, wiping the bench, so that Seb couldn’t see her face. Hastily she wiped away a tear. An NFR order meant ‘not for resuscitation’. For Janine and Mark to have agreed to that, it must mean there was no hope. It was awful news, and by now she should be used to it, but…
‘Anything else?’ she asked in a strangely high voice.
‘I met up with Vince Cole on his way home—he’d been in with a patient. We had a long chat about Billy and his asthma—he’s quite good at straight talking.’
Her composure restored, Lucinda turned and made her way over to him.
‘Speaking of straight talking, Seb, is something wrong? We’ve hardly exchanged a word since we left my parents.’
He ran a hand through his hair and Lucinda felt her heart plummet as his eyes avoided hers.
‘I’ve been doing some thinking.’ He paused and Lucinda knew what was coming. ‘There’s something worrying me, I just don’t know how to say it.’
She swallowed hard. Her mother had been right after all, it had all just been a fling. Longing for him to put her mind at rest, to somehow reassure her that she was mistaken, her heart sank further as he tentatively continued struggling with his words.
‘We really need to talk. I just don’t see how this is going to work. You’ve got so much going for you, I just can’t imagine…’ Seb’s voice trailed off and finally he gestured to Billy, asleep on the sofa.
‘It’s just that I can’t… You’re not…’
Lucinda finished the sentence for him. ‘Not stepmum material.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said fiercely.
As the world crashed around her, the Lucinda who was good at hiding her feelings, of staying in control, came to the fore. Somehow she managed a smile, determined to escape with some dignity. If Seb wanted to end things, she damn well wasn’t going to let him think it was solely his decision. She had some pride. ‘You didn’t have to. I’d actually started to realise that myself.’
Seb looked at her, his eyes full of confusion. ‘You had?’
‘Having him here tonight. I mean, we had fun and everything, but…well, look, you’re right. I don’t see how it could work. It’s just not for me. It’s no big deal. We’re consenting adults after all. We had a good time, no one got hurt, we can still be friends.’
Seb gave a small nod. ‘Of course.’
He made his way over to Billy who stirred gently as Seb lifted him. The love in his eyes when he gazed at his son made her want to weep. She was so sure she had seen it there before, but for her.
‘Hold on a moment,’ she called as he made his way to the lift. Grabbing a bag, she stuffed the bagatelle set into it. ‘I said he could have it.’
‘You don’t have to, Lucinda.’
‘Please.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘What am I going to do with it?’
She stood there watching the numbers go down on the lift lights, watching as the two males she loved walk out of her life. She was still standing there when the lift returned and Vijay’s son arrived with the curry. Somehow she paid him and chatted about the weather. Somehow she made it back into her apartment.
Numb, shocked, she made her way into the shower, standing quite still until eventually the water ran cold. And even then she didn’t notice. ‘No one got hurt,’ she’d said. That had been the biggest lie of her life, for the pain that she was feeling now was utterly indescribable. Finally, shivering, she made her way to bed, the curry having long since gone cold. There she lay alone and waited for morning.
Monday was easily the blackest day of Lucinda’s life. Somehow she had thought to set the alarm and had awoken to the smell of cold curry and the painful memories of the previous night. It seemed impossible to believe that only twenty-four hours ago she had woken in Seb’s arms and made love. How, she wrestled with herself, could she have been so wrong? How could she have misread him so badly? ‘A fling’, her mother had said, and she had been right, it seemed.
The ward round was painfully slow and when they finally walked into NICU the sight of Janine and Mark at Kimberley’s incubator was almost too much to take.
‘How’s Kimberley?’ Lucinda asked Andrew Doran.
He shook his head. ‘Her parents want another CT scan, but it’s pointless.’
‘Will you do one?’
Andrew nodded. ‘I think it’s merited if it helps Janine and Mark. She’s going down soon.’
Making her way across to the catheter suite, Lucinda checked the whiteboard. Seb was the anaesthetist on. Bracing herself, she walked in, only to find Chris King checking his equipment.
‘Good morning, Lucinda, or should I say good afternoon?’
Lucinda managed a cheery greeting as Chris explained he was filling in for Seb who was stuck on the wards. His excuse was plausible enough but Lucinda felt it was rather more convenient than facing her today of all days.
They were busy for the next few hours and Lucinda was more than happy to concentrate on others’ hearts. Her own was in a mess.
When the last of the patients had been dealt with, she made her way to the canteen. Lunch orders had finished so there were only sandwiches available from the machine. The canteen was relatively quiet but, longing for some peace, she made her way up to her office. As she reached the top of the stairwell she was met by the grief-stricken faces of Janine and Mark.
‘Has Kimberley gone for her scan?’ she asked, full of concern.
Mark shook his head and pulled the sobbing Janine towards him.
‘We decided not to send her, she’d been through enough. Seb came and extubated her. She died soon after…’ His voice broke. ‘We were both holding her.’
Lucinda stood there, frozen. She had seen raw grief so many—too many—times, but it was something she knew she would never get used to. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion.
‘We’re just going to the hospital chapel and then we’re going to go back and spend some time with her.’
Lucinda nodded.
Janine looked up and Lucinda couldn’t bear to see the pain in her eyes.
‘Thank you for all you did. Everyone’s been wonderful.’
‘I just wish we could have done more.’
Mark shook her hand and guided his wife gently towards the chapel. Numb, Lucinda walked the few steps to her office. Taking off her white coat, she sat at her desk and stared at her hands for a few moments. Then the tears came, rolling out of her eyes, splashing onto her hands, and she did nothing to stop them. It took a moment or two before she realised someone was knocking on her door.
‘One moment.’ Hastily she wiped her tears away and blew her nose. ‘Come in.’
It was Seb. ‘Sorry to disturb you.’
‘No problem.’ She forced a smile.
‘I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you this morning, not that it would be possible in a place like this even if I wanted to, which I don’t.’
‘Like I said, we’re adults. It’s not as if we were married or anything. We can all make mistakes.’
‘You’ve been crying?’
/>
She was about to deny it, but what was the point? Her face was probably bright red. ‘I just saw Janine and Mark Stewart.’
‘It’s awful, isn’t it? That’s where I’ve been. I’ve had a fair bit to do with them over the last couple of months and I wanted to see things through.’
Which was so like him, Lucinda thought, taking the hard road when he didn’t have to, giving that bit more. She could read the concern for her in his eyes, and she knew if she started to cry again she wouldn’t be able to stop. She couldn’t let him see her like that. They had made a deal. Friends, remember?
‘You had a bit to do with Janine. Is that why this one’s hit you so hard?’ Seb asked gently.
How could she tell him? Yesterday maybe, but yesterday they had been a couple. Today he was a colleague. How could she tell him that they all hit her like this? That the name of each child that had died was etched on her heart? That right now she would love to grab her bag and run? Put as much distance as she could from this place and never come back? Instead, she gave a tight smile, the persona of cool.
‘That must be it. She seemed like a nice woman. It was to be expected, of course. Twenty-four weeks is barely viable and Kimberley had a lot of problems besides immaturity.’ She picked up a file and reached for her Dictaphone. Miss Chambers was back!
But Seb seemed to see through her bravado. ‘Lucinda, are you sure you’re all right?’
She longed to tell him she wasn’t, that Kimberley’s death, him leaving, they had both devastated her, but instead her face remained impassive. ‘Of course. I’m fine. It’s sad and all that but, well, it comes with the job.’ And clicking on her Dictaphone, she opened the file in front of her and flashed Seb a cool smile. ‘I’ll catch up with you later. I really am snowed under.’
Seb raised his eyebrows at her reaction, but didn’t comment. Without another word he turned and left, closing the door behind him. She heard his footsteps fading down the corridor and only when she was safely alone did she put her head down on the desk and weep. She wept for them all—for Kimberley and Janine and Mark and then for herself. In a few short hours everything had changed and life for them all would never be the same again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS SEB had pointed out, if they had wanted to avoid each other they couldn’t, and in the weeks that followed they were thrown together often.
Lucinda coped by day. They had polite conversations when she asked about Billy and he asked about her work, but it wasn’t enough. From answering ‘better’ and ‘fine’ to her questions his answers had become ‘not bad’ and ‘getting there’. She had heard from her peers that Billy’s asthma was worsening and she yearned for more information and deep down she ached to see him for herself.
At least workwise things had never been better. November turned into December and the operation lists were overflowing as they tried to get the numbers down before scheduled operations ceased over Christmas. It was a blessing in disguise as the days flew by and Lucinda could bury herself in work and forget about her own problems.
It was a different question at night, though. Exhausted, she would collapse on the sofa. Not even hungry, she would have a couple of slices of toast or a biscuit if there were any, before collapsing on the bed. There she would lie and wait for sleep, trying to block all thoughts of Seb out of her mind, determined not to cry herself to sleep again. But eventually the tears would win and she would awake puffy-eyed and tired, only to start another weary day all over again.
Sitting at her desk one morning, she dunked a teabag in a cup of hot water and decided to tackle the mountain of internal mail that had piled up. Most were Christmas cards, and she made a mental note to stop at the shops on the way home and buy a couple more boxes. Everywhere in the hospital was decorated with tinsel and flashing lights. The children’s ward was abuzz with excitement and nurses walked around with flashing Christmas-tree earrings.
Lucinda, at Ann’s insistence, had stuck a piece of tinsel around her name badge but that was as far as her festive preparations went. It seemed like a lifetime since she had been happy but it had, in fact, only been eight weeks. Eight weeks of hell. She felt like she had forgotten how to smile naturally and could hear herself barking at the staff. So much for festive cheer. She was living right up to her reputation and decided to try and brighten up.
It was to no avail, though, for as she opened a yellow envelope a memo greeted her, and as she read the words about the recent resignation of Dr Carlisle, it was as if a knife were being plunged straight into her heart. She sat there, trying to make sense of the words blurring before her, but before she had time to digest the contents her emergency page went off and she rushed across to CGU.
‘What’s the story?’
The little girl sitting on the bed, was struggling with her breathing.
Jack Wells gave her a worried look. ‘Pre-op for removal of a cyst on the right lung. She’s developed sudden onset of shortness of breath, with reduced air sounds on the right.’
‘Has she had an X-ray?’
Jack handed the films to her. ‘We just got them back after I put the page out. She’s got a tension pneumothorax.’
Lucinda had a brief look at the films, confirming Jack’s diagnosis.
‘Ann set up for a chest drain. Put her oxygen up, Jack, to one hundred per cent. What’s her sats?’
Jack checked the saturation machine.
‘Ninety per cent on one hundred per cent oxygen.’
‘OK. Let’s put a tube in now. Right, Jack, you can do this one.’
She saw the anxiety on his face and she knew he was nervous, but he had done this procedure before, albeit not in an emergency.
‘Come on, Jack, you can do this.’ She watched his trembling hands.
‘That’s right—between fourth and fifth intercostal spaces. Now inject your local.’
Ellen spoke to the young girl who was concentrating too hard on her breathing to be scared, while Ann assisted the doctors.
‘Now push till you feel it give. That’s it—further. You’re in. OK, now remove the guide.’ The bottle by the bed connected to the chest tube bubbled merrily with each breath. ‘Now stitch the chest tube firmly in place.’ She listened to the girl’s chest. ‘Much better. Good air entry. When you’ve finished stitching her she’ll need a repeat chest X-ray.’
Lucinda watched closely as Jack, his confidence up now, deftly stitched the tube in place. The ward was very warm and Lucinda felt the beads of sweat rising on her forehead and trickling between her breasts. Suddenly she felt quite dizzy. ‘All right, Jack, you carry on from here.’ With the ward spinning, she made her way to the office and sat on the nearest chair, taking some deep breaths. Serve her right for skipping breakfast and lunch, too, for that matter. She really had to start taking better care of herself. Ann came in quietly and closed the door.
‘Are you all right, Lucinda?’
‘Just felt a bit hot in there. The air-conditioning in this place leaves a lot to be desired.
‘When did you last eat?’
Lucinda gave a small shrug.
‘Yesterday, I think.’
Ann tutted loudly. ‘I actually saved you some mince pies.’ She pushed the plate toward her. Lucinda took a look at the curling pastry and shook her head.
‘A rum ball, then?’
Lucinda gave her a smile. ‘I’m fine, Ann, really. I think I’ll grab some sandwiches from the machine.’
‘How about some cornflakes? We’ve got some on the ward. Save you going down to the canteen.’
‘I guess I did miss breakfast—that sounds good.’
Ann scuttled off and returned a few moments later with two small boxes and a carton of milk. She set about preparing them and poured on some sugar.
Lucinda tucked in, realising how hungry she was.
Ann hovered, ensuring Lucinda cleared the bowl. ‘You certainly enjoyed them,’ she said cheerfully, then her tone changed and Lucinda listened as she continued in a searching voice
. ‘Cornflakes were all I could manage myself when I was pregnant.’ And Lucinda knew Ann’s words had been carefully chosen. With a clatter Lucinda dropped the spoon back into the bowl and stared at the empty plate, not saying a word.
‘Didn’t you realise?’ Ann asked gently.
Lucinda sat for a while before answering. ‘Not really,’ she replied quietly.
Ann, bless her, didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘So you haven’t done a test yet?’
Lucinda shook her head, trying to blink back tears.
‘I take it this isn’t a planned pregnancy.’
It was all Lucinda could do to shake her head.
‘I’m sure you’re worrying about nothing, it could be a false alarm.’
Lucinda gave a hollow laugh. ‘I don’t need to do a test. I’ve had it at the back of my mind for the last few weeks. I guess I was trying to avoid facing up to it.’
‘Ignoring it won’t make it go away.’
‘How did you guess?’ Lucinda asked. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me. I had terrible morning sickness with my boys, couldn’t eat a thing. For someone like you who loves their tucker to suddenly be eating like a sparrow, well, I had a good inkling. Then seeing you go faint when Jack put in the chest drain. Cardiothoracic surgeons don’t normally have weak stomachs. It all added up. Do you want to talk about it, Lucinda, or do you want me to mind my own business?’
Lucinda thought for a moment. Ann was the one person she knew who wouldn’t be remotely offended if she told her to butt out. But she needed to talk, she needed some help badly.
‘You don’t mind me dumping this on you?’
Ann gave a big smile. ‘See these shoulders? They’re wide for a reason. Now, you take this.’ She rummaged in her drawer and pulled out a specimen bottle. ‘I don’t need to tell you what to do with this. I’ll pop over to the gynae ward and grab a pregnancy test. I’ll have a check on the ward as well and then I’ll tell Ellen we don’t want to be disturbed. She’ll just think we’re going over a patient or the budget or something.’
Lucinda nodded. ‘Ann,’ she called to her departing back.
Dr. Carlisle's Child Page 12
