Shattered Lives

by Marian Phair

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When the limousine turned in through the gates of Rojo Tejado, Amie spotted a bright red Jaguar parked on the driveway and giving Millie a nudge with her elbow asked, “Who owns the Jaguar?.”

  “Oh, that belongs to Dr Sam,” said Millie, “I was wondering when he would make an appearance. He is going to take care of you during your pregnancy; he has a finger in just about every pie around here. He is also the doctor on call to the film crew, but mostly he deals with gynaecological problems and he is well respected around here as a doctor, you will be in good hands. Melissa said you would be in his care.”

  The limousine parked beside the Jaguar, there was no sign of its owner. Turning to Millie, Amie asked, “Can you do me a favour and take care of Peter for me while I go up to my apartment. I have a letter for Dr Sam from an ex-colleague of his who got me this job, and I was told to deliver it to him personally.” Alright said Millie, taking Peter under her wing, “we will be in my room when you have finished with Dr Sam.”

  “Hopefully I won’t be too long,” said Amie, “he may want to examine me and if so, I will come to you as soon as I can, to collect Peter.”

  Amie’s apartment being on the second floor, she used the lift. It was hardly worth it really but the lift had a mirrored back wall which she used to check her appearance. Stepping out of the lift, she was surprised to see a short rotund man in the process of removing the jacket of the dark grey suit he was wearing. He was standing outside her door and what little remained of his dark hair was sleeked back and shining with oil, looking as if it had been plastered to his head. He turned his attention on her as she approached, and running his eyes swiftly over her body, gave her a false smile. He had a small neatly clipped handle-bar moustache and a goatee beard that was streaked with grey. His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black. Amie thought, ‘oh my god, except for the beard, I’ve got Hercule Poirot as my doctor,’ smiling as she found the idea amusing.

  He held his hand out to her, and Amie was quick to notice that the gold signet ring he wore on his little finger matched the cufflinks he was wearing.

  “Ah! You must be Amie, I am Dr Samuel Morrison, sorry to burst in on you unannounced, but I was in the area and took the chance you might be in.

  May I come in for a moment?” He asked her politely. “We need to have a chat and I may as well take a look at you whilst I am here.”

  His handshake was weak and his hand felt clammy, reminding Amie of a dead fish.

  “How do you do Dr Morrison?” she responded just as politely, not relishing the thought of those hands on her stomach.

  “Please come in, I have a letter for you from Dr Reid. I understand he has told you all about me.” Amie closed the door behind him and led him into the lounge. “Please have a seat. I will fetch the letter, it is in my bedroom, I will only be a moment.” She returned with the letter and handed it to him.

  “Perhaps you could make us both a cup of tea, while I read the letter, then I will examine you and we can have a chat.” He hung his jacket over the back of his chair, and opened the envelope. Amie left him to read it.

  Dr Sam, having read the letter and drank the tea Amie had made him, fetched his bag from the hall and removing his stethoscope, he asked her to lie down on one of the sofas. He listened to her stomach, searching until he found the baby’s heartbeat, then he listened to her chest, and asked if she had any problems. She told him she was no longer sick in the mornings and she was enjoying her pregnancy and could not wait to hold her baby in her arms.

  “Well,” said Dr Sam, “it appears you are a very healthy young woman, and the baby’s heartbeat is fine. I will give you a more thorough examination when you come to my clinic, make an appointment for three weeks time.” He handed her a business card, which she took from him and placed in the sideboard drawer. “Bring an m.s.u. with you when you come, I will leave you a sterile container.” Seeing the puzzled look on her face, he explained how to take a mid-stream urine specimen. Amie’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Well I look forward to seeing you again in three weeks time,” he said, as Amie walked him to the door.

  Amie followed Dr Sam out of the apartment, closing the door behind her. Bidding him goodbye, she made her way up to Millie’s room, where she found Peter happily playing with a toy car.

  Taking the car from Peter, Millie packed it into a suitcase and pushed it under her bed, where it was hidden from view by the valance. They left the room and went downstairs for their evening meal.

  Melissa returned, just as Amie was putting Peter to bed and bending over the boy she gave him a swift kiss on the forehead, said ‘night, night,’ to him and left the room.

  “How is it going, is Peter behaving himself for you?” she asked, when Amie joined her. Lighting a cigarette, Melissa blew a smoke ring, watching it curl upward, not looking at Amie. Before Amie could answer her, she said.

  “Sorry you had to witness my little outburst this morning; I’m not usually that sharp with the boy!”

  Taking a deep breath to compose herself, before answering her employer and letting it out slowly, Amie looked Melissa in the eye.

  “We are getting along just fine, but I could not help noticing several bruises on Peter when I gave him his bath.” ‘Wriggle your backside out of that you bitch!’ She thought.

  Showing absolutely no concern at all Melissa said. “Peter is always falling down, or knocking against things, he’s just clumsy I guess. Kids are like that, always getting knocks when they are playing, as you will no doubt discover for yourself, when your child is old enough to get around under its own steam.” My child will never wear the bruises caused by my hands, Amie wanted to shout at her, but restrained herself, saying instead,

  “I promised Peter, I would take him to Port Aventura tomorrow, I hope you don’t mind.” I don’t really care if you do, she thought. I will keep my promise.

  “No, he will love it,” Melissa said, “I told you he was itching to go there.” Excusing herself, Amie returned to her apartment.

  Looking through the leaflets, Melissa had given her, she saw the theme park had water chutes and death defying rides so they were out of the question, but it had small pools for the younger ones. It boasted more than thirty authentic and exciting looking shows from different countries. There really was something for everyone to enjoy. The next morning, after breakfast, a beach bag over her shoulder containing all their needs, they set off for a day of excitement at Port Aventura theme park.

  The following three weeks passed by with no more drunken outbursts from Melissa. In fact, along with Charlie and Jimmy, they had seen little of each other. The three of them left together around dawn each morning, returning late into the evening, after a long day’s filming.

  Dr Samuel Morrison’s clinic was in Tarragona. Amie had taken a bus ride there that morning. She had the whole day to herself as Millie was minding Peter. Her appointment was not until three thirty that afternoon, leaving the entire morning to explore.

  Tarragona, Amie had read in her guide book, was the first Roman city outside the Italic peninsula, and the nearby islands and the capital of the Tarraconense or Citerior region, the largest province. The city was more than just its monuments that the mighty Roman Empire had left behind, which led to the ancient Tarraco being declared a World Heritage site by UNESCO. The guide book went on to describe the Muralla, the wall, which was the oldest and longest monument of the peninsula.

  Amie had gone with the hope of exploring the Muralla, but found access to most of the Roman Archaeological site was only open to the public during certain seasons and unfortunately this was not one of them. She found another path, not so archaeological, which extended beyond the Muralla, along the parapet walk. It was as the guide book said. From here one could look out over the houses of the Part Alta, along the flat roofs, the clothes hung out to dry, where the voices and smells of living history abounded.

  A series of towers completed the Roman fortress, of which only three r
emained. Amie read of Minerva, Goddess, and protector of the arts, war and civil freedom. The Iberians cut off and hung up the heads of their enemies, and the Romans copied this custom, but in stone. The tower hides a series of small-sculpted heads on stones made to frighten their enemies; these were difficult to find, according to the guidebook. As Amie walked, she played at trying to discover them.

  She saw the great Amphitheatre of the Gladiators and the Martyrs, alongside the Miracle Park, with a capacity in ancient times, for fourteen thousand people. She stopped for a moment to rest, sitting down on one of the stone seats, looking out across the ruins to the ocean beyond.

  A couple of Japanese tourists came up to her smiling. The man pointed at the camera he held and then indicating himself and his friend, held the camera out to her. Taking it she smiled back at him, “Where would you like me to take your picture?” she asked. The man looked surprised.

  “Oh, you are English, I am sorry I thought you were a local person, we cannot speak Spanish, only English and Japanese, I’m afraid. Could you take one of us with the Amphitheatre in the background?” The couple went and stood by the railings. Amie placed them where she had the best shot in the viewfinder. “Say cheese,” she instructed. They grinned into the camera lens, clicking the button he had pointed out to her and taking their picture, Amie handed him back his camera.

  “It is fantastic, don’t you think?” he said, inclining his head towards the Amphitheatre. Amie nodded her head in agreement.

  “Have you seen the Tarraco Viva?” his female companion asked, “we came here last year, just as they were doing the historical reconstruction.” Amie shook her head as the woman continued, “every year the Amphitheatre fills with Gladiators and spectators and they re-enact this part of Roman history, the spectators demand the sacrifice of the loser by pointing to the ground, the kingdom of the dead, just as they did back then.” Amie made the gesture she had seen in the film ‘Julius Caesar.’ The woman laughed at her gesture, telling her, “No, according to what we have been told, the gesture of the closed fist with the thumb pointing down is pure fiction, the Romans only pointed with the forefinger.” Wishing each other well, they went their separate ways.

  Amie marvelled at the sights. The Roman Circus, where chariot races had taken place, the Provincial Forum, Santa Maria del Miracle, sights and wonders abounded in Tarragona and not all of them were Roman.

  The Palau Municipal, Millie had told her, was not only the City Hall; it was also the luxurious backdrop to many festivals and firework parades, and human towers which represented ‘solidarity.’ Amie had seen one of these human statues cast in bronze on the Rambla Nova. She could have sat there all day without going anywhere else. It was such a beautiful place with much to see and do. One could never tire of it; she could live quite happily here in Tarragona

  The Rambla Nova was described in her guide book as, ‘a huge open-air hall spreading from the River Francoli at one end and the Mediterranean Balcony, Tarragon’s emblemic trademark at the other.’ The description did not do it justice at all.

  Amie went from one end to the other coming across fountains, monuments and sculpture. Flower sellers sold their wares, setting out the containers on the lovely tiled paving, beneath large umbrellas. Benches, some made of stone, others of metal painted white, were placed along both sides of its forty-five meters wide passage as were the black metal streetlights, with their lovely double-globed opaque shades. The entire length of the Rambla Nova, was lined on both sides with large trees, their trunks twisting and curling upwards, their canopy of leaves hiding the smaller palms, which were dotted here and there in beds of flowers. She had never felt so relaxed and content, as she was sitting here. A figure, cast in bronze, of grandfather Virgili, a diarist who, wearing a cap and with glasses perched on his nose, was seated on a bench opposite her, leaning on his walking stick and like her, he watched the passersby.

  She had lunch on the Rambla Nova, eating it whilst sitting outside under the awning of the café, in preference to its interior.

  Amie checked her wristwatch; she had only twenty minutes left until her appointment with Dr Sam. She was amazed at how the time had simply flown by and gathering up her things made her way to his clinic on the Carrer de Cavallers.

  Turning into its shady cobbled street, immediately on her right was a small wooden door with metal fittings and a brass nameplate, bearing his name, there was no knocker, or bell on the door, just a metal latch and lifting it she found it wasn’t locked, so, knowing she was expected she let herself in.

  She found herself in a small courtyard, with two stone alcoves on either side of a small walled fountain. On her far right there was a flight of stone steps. She stood for a moment trying to decide which to try first when she heard voices coming from the alcove on her left, so she headed in that direction.

  Coming out of the sunlight, into the dark unlit alcove, she stopped, allowing her eyesight to adjust to its dark interior. Then she realised the voices she had heard were coming from a couple who were having sex against the back wall. The woman’s face was buried into the man’s shoulder, her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped tightly around his body. His trousers were around his ankles; his arms were holding her body to his, as he pounded away at her in the throes of passion. Moaning loudly the man was reaching his climax.

  Amie quickly stepped back into the sunlight before they were alerted to her presence, then she heard the woman say, “Oh! That’s it couchie baby, give it all to mama.” Horrified, she recognised the voice as Melissa’s, and not knowing where she was going, nor wishing to be seen, Amie hurried across the courtyard, and up the stone steps, silently praying she was headed for the clinic. Her prayers were answered, the door at the top of the steps bore Dr Sam’s name.

  Amie rushed inside without knocking, quickly closing the door behind her, leaning against it while she caught her breath, startling the poor receptionist sitting behind her desk. Melissa was supposed to be filming, so what was she doing here, having sex with a man, so close to the clinic? Didn’t she care who saw her, had the woman no shame? Amie liked Melissa less and less, the more she found out about her.

  Suddenly, remembering Melissa’s conversation, the day after her arrival, Melissa had called the person on the other end of the telephone, ‘couchie’ so was he her lover?

  Realising the receptionist had asked her a question and she had not heard a word of what she had said, Amie chose to ignore it and instead she asked one of her own.

  “Do you speak English?” she asked.

  “Yes, how may I help you?” The receptionist replied.

  Amie breathed a sigh of relief. “My name is Amie Richardson and I have a three thirty appointment with Dr Sam.”

  Glancing down at the list on her desk and placing a tick beside Amie’s name, the receptionist said, “Please take a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly, he has another patient with him at the moment.”

  Amie sat down on one of the leather-upholstered chairs, her eyes taking in the landscape picture on the wall, behind the receptionist’s desk. The neglected spider plant on the edge of her desk, hung forlornly down one side, the tips of its leaves turning brown, begging to be watered.

  There was the usual long low table, covered with magazines of all kinds, none of which she could read. There was a wall rack containing various leaflets and a framed medical certificate. Only one other person was sitting waiting with her. She was an elderly woman of about eighty, holding a glass of water.

  The receptionist, whose name, according to the badge pinned to the front of her uniform, was Ellen Rodriguez. Produced a box of tablets from a drawer in her desk, she removed one and handed it to the old woman who put it in her mouth and swallowed it down with the water.

  Seeing Amie watching her, the woman spoke to her in rapid Spanish.

  “Me duelan las muelas,” she said, opening her mouth and pointing to her few remaining teeth. Placing the empty glass on the seat next to her, she smiled at Amie.

/>   “Oh, you have a toothache,” Amie said, in English, returning her smile and pointing to her own mouth, to let her know she understood. The woman nodded still smiling.

  Just then the door opened and Dr Sam’s head popped round it. Holding the door open for her he said, “Please come in, sorry if I have kept you waiting, I am running around ten minutes late.” There was no sign of the other patient but as she entered the room, Amie noticed another door off to the left and assumed there was another way out of the premises that she had not noticed in her haste.

  “I only arrived a few minutes ago myself,” she told him, sitting in the chair he held for her. She removed the urine sample from her shoulder bag, handing it over to him and watched as he took it over to the sink. He opened a bottle, removing one of the strips inside, dipped it into her urine sample, and then checked the strip against the chart on the side of the bottle.

  “This is fine, no problems here,” he told her, and then asked her to lie down on the examination couch. Raising the back, he placed a pillow behind her head, and then adjusted the height of the couch. He rolled her Tee shirt up to her breasts and pulled her shorts and panties down, just far enough for him to conduct the test, allowing her to keep her modesty.

  “I’m afraid my hands are a little cold,” he said, rubbing them together briskly, before placing them on her abdomen which he manipulated, making little ‘ah hems’ as he did so. He put a small silver object to her abdomen, then pressing his ear against it; he explained what he was doing as he went along. “We call this a trumpet; it allows us to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Would you like to listen?” He removed the stethoscope from his neck and placed it to her ears. “Give me a moment to find the spot.” He used the trumpet to locate the sound and then placed the end of the stethoscope to it.

  Amie held her breath as she heard a rapid bah-boom, bah-boom, sound in her ears, her baby’s heartbeat. She looked at Dr Sam with tears in her eyes, hearing the heartbeat of the little life growing inside her; she could not wait for the birth to come, so she could hold her baby in her arms.