‘That’s impossible!’ he denied immediately, clearly stung by the idea that something so basic and so potentially life-threatening could have gone wrong in his department.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nadia said, wondering if the next few seconds would result in her losing her job before she could even hand in her resignation. She was overwhelmingly aware that Gideon was standing right behind her, listening to every word, and really didn’t want his last memory of her being one of leaping to crazy conclusions on insufficient evidence. ‘But if a relatively new member of staff didn’t label the samples properly, and was responsible for delivering two sets of samples to the lab at the same time, isn’t it possible that there might have been a mix-up?’
Josh made no comment, but his dark glower didn’t need words as he strode across to place an urgent call to the labs.
‘In the meantime,’ he continued almost before the receiver hit the cradle at the end of a very terse conversation, ‘we’ll be scanning both babies, just to make sure.’
‘Shall I return to the unit, then?’ Nadia asked, still not certain whether she’d redeemed herself but absolutely certain that the nurse who’d made the mistakes would be receiving a reprimand…at the very least.
‘Who’s looking after Adam?’ Gideon demanded, recalling the reason she hadn’t come with Amy in the first place.
‘Jenny Barber’s keeping him company for me till I get back,’ she told him as soothingly as possible. He had enough stress to cope with, worrying about Amy. He didn’t need to be concerned about Adam, too, so she tried to put his mind at ease. ‘Jenny’s the slender one with the dark auburn hair and she’s very good with the babies, so he’s in good hands.’
With Josh standing there with a dark glower on his face, it was no wonder that both Amy and Rani were swiftly scanned.
It was only when they were positioned one after the other in the maw of the MRI that it became painfully obvious just how small they were and there was little satisfaction for Nadia when the extent of Rani’s problem was revealed, even though she was as delighted as Gideon to see that Amy was completely clear of any sign of NEC.
The phone call from the lab that greeted them on their return to the unit was welcome confirmation that there was no obviously sinister reason for Amy’s sudden rise in temperature, but by that time Josh was already involved in making rapid arrangements for Rani to be taken to Theatre.
‘You both look shattered,’ Jenny said when Amy was settled back in the cot with Adam, who’d instantly fallen into a peaceful sleep as if he hadn’t just fretted for more than an hour while she was away. ‘I don’t mind keeping an eye on the two of them for a while if you want to get a cup of coffee. You look as if you need it.’
‘I definitely need something,’ Gideon agreed, ‘although I’m not certain that coffee’s going to be strong enough.’
‘Well, I’m afraid that’s all that’s on offer here,’ Nadia said as she led the way along the corridor. ‘If you want anything stronger, you’ll have to wait till you get home.’
‘I don’t think I dare to leave the hospital yet,’ he admitted wearily. ‘That was almost worse than when they were newborn.’
‘Why?’ Nadia had an idea she knew what he meant, but he probably needed to get his thoughts out into the open if he was going to regain the confidence to leave his precious babies in her care.
‘Well, then they were so small and fragile that it was almost a foregone conclusion that they were going to die sooner or later. It just felt as if I had to be here for every second of their lives because they were going to be that short.’
‘And, now?’ she prompted.
‘Now they aren’t just two nondescript pathetic little scraps hanging on to life by their fingernails.’ He spoke slowly, as though he was having to dredge the words from somewhere deep inside where he hid his most private emotions.
‘Now they’re two tiny people with individual identities,’ he continued with a ghost of a smile curving that mouth that looked as if it had been made for smiling, ‘We’ve been through so many things together over the last few weeks and it had finally begun to look as if we were winning, and suddenly…’ He shook his head, the smile gone, and she could see the residual fear lurking in his eyes while the words began to pour out of him in a torrent. ‘Suddenly it felt as if we were right back at the beginning again, and Amy could be taken away from me at any moment, and the thought of anyone having to operate on her when she’s so tiny…’
She knew exactly how he felt because that was the way she’d been feeling, too. Her fear that Amy might die…if not from NEC then from complications due to the extent of the surgery she would need to eradicate it…couldn’t have been more personal than if she was losing Anya all over again.
‘But now you know she hasn’t got it…’ She searched for the most tactful way to say this. ‘Can you not trust me to be there for her? With her? Can you not have the confidence that I would phone you?’
Those deep green eyes gazed into hers for so long that it felt as if he wanted to see all the way into her soul. Then he gave a single nod and closed his eyes for several weary seconds.
‘Of course I trust you, Nadia,’ he said softly. ‘But I just…I feel so helpless to do anything for them. It would probably be easier if there was something I could do…’ His words died away abruptly and a sudden spark lit his eyes.
‘Breast milk!’ he exclaimed. ‘I remember reading something when I was doing research soon after they were born. Isn’t breast milk supposed to stop them suffering from NEC?’
For such an apparently clinical subject, why did it suddenly make her feel as if she ought to be shielding her own breasts from him? This wasn’t about her. It was about the needs of Amy and Adam.
‘Statistically, it does seem to give premature babies a great deal of protection,’ she agreed, seriously, ‘although there’s no guarantee that it will completely prevent them from developing NEC.’
‘But it would be worth giving it to them, if only to…’ His enthusiasm died almost as suddenly as it had leapt to life. ‘Except they don’t have a mother willing to give them milk…unless there’s someone in the department who would be willing…’ He rammed his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. ‘As if that’s going to work!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can hardly go up to someone and ask her to sell me a pint of milk…as if she were a dairy cow, or something!’
Nadia chuckled at the image that conjured up inside her head. ‘No. You couldn’t. But there is always the milk bank.’
‘Milk bank?’ he repeated, his tired brain apparently having trouble with understanding the term, although she was sure he must have read about it. ‘Is that like the blood bank?’
‘Very similar,’ she agreed. ‘Lactating mothers express their spare milk so that it’s available for babies with allergy problems, or for premature babies like Amy and Adam. Obviously, there are safeguards in place—the mother has a blood test and must be a non-smoker and drugs free, and the milk she donates is frozen before being sent off to be thoroughly checked and pasteurised before it can be used for another baby.’
‘And this is readily available?’
‘Because breast milk is so much better for babies than any formula, it is something we have often taken advantage of, when the natural mother can’t or isn’t willing to provide the milk herself.’ Why on earth was she feeling so uncomfortable talking about this? It was a discussion she must have had with dozens of parents since she’d started working in the unit. There was nothing personal—
‘Would you be willing to do it?’ he asked suddenly, and for a moment she was speechless, her brain trying to work out what he was saying even as her heart ached with the memories of all the fledgling plans she’d started to weave for her own child in those few precious weeks before…
‘You mean, would I be willing to provide milk for other babies?’ she asked, firmly shutting those painful images in the smallest, darkest corner of her mind. Before he could reply, she added quickly. �
��That would depend, of course, on whether I’d recently had a child of my own, whether I was going to feed it myself and whether I had a surplus of milk.’
‘But you would want to feed your own child,’ he said softly. ‘And if you had spare milk, you’d willingly offer it to other babies who needed it,’ he added, his voice filled with the same certainty that she could see in that serious green gaze. Her heart swelled at the thought that he could know her so well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GIDEON slumped into the last remaining comfortable chair, almost slopping his coffee over his knee before his seat hit the rather saggy upholstery.
‘I hate Friday and Saturday nights,’ grumbled one of the nurses as she shouldered her way into the room in his wake.
‘It’s the drunks that I hate,’ Gideon said. ‘I’ve lost count of how many we’ve had tonight.’
‘Tell me about it!’ she exclaimed as she filled the kettle. ‘Gangs of drunken yobs shouting the odds and thinking they can bully us into doing what they want just because they’re bigger and heavier than we are. Thank goodness the hospital’s put some security measures in place. At least we don’t get attacked quite so often any more.’
Gideon was glad about that, because he’d been one of the people who’d argued strongly for having armed guards on the premises. When they were dealing with the results of gangs and drugs, it was only fair the staff that they should have appropriate protection in place.
When they were being abusive, it could be hard to remember that drunken patients sometimes needed even more care than sober ones. The overwhelming smell of alcohol could disguise the fact that the patient was unconscious due to injuries rather than drink.
‘Drunken adults is one thing, but it’s the youngsters who really get to me,’ he admitted darkly, staring into his coffee.
Specifically, the underage teenagers who should have been safely at home with their parents, not out in the pubs and clubs getting so drunk that the paramedics were having to scoop their unconscious bodies out of the gutters to bring them in to have their stomachs pumped.
And for some the alcohol was the least of their problems. Like that last patient he’d seen…the one that had sent him in here for a much-needed break. The pretty young girl whose body had been found dumped in the alley behind one of the clubs, surrounded by refuse and showing obvious signs that she’d been raped, repeatedly, while she’d been too drunk to defend herself.
‘Oh,’ she murmured with sudden understanding. ‘You were the one who had to deal with that girl they brought in. Is she…is she going to be all right?’
Gideon closed his eyes but there was nothing he could do to get rid of the image of that youngster. She’d looked like a broken doll as she’d lain there on the table, and there had been absolutely nothing he’d been able to do to save her from the effects of the drugs and alcohol in her body. The fact that she’d been physically abused, too, had almost been irrelevant as he’d fought to stop her organs shutting down.
‘No, she’s not,’ he said, and his voice felt like gravel in his throat. ‘By the time her parents arrived, she was dead. And they hadn’t even known she was going out. They thought she was staying with a school friend to watch videos or something.’
Unfortunately, he knew that the devastation on the couple’s faces would fade from his memory far too quickly, replaced by other equally harrowing events.
No wonder so many A and E staff suffered from burn-out. It was either that, or allow themselves to become totally hardened to what they were seeing and doing, and that was a route he didn’t want to take.
He sighed, and tried to put the events of the night out of his mind, concentrating instead on his recent conversation with Nadia.
She’d already organised for both Amy and Adam to receive donated breast milk, and he was grateful for the fact that she’d known so much about the system the hospital had in place. But it was Nadia herself, and in particular her reaction to the topic, that seemed to be stuck in his brain.
He had no idea what had prompted him to ask if she intended to breastfeed her own children, but once the words had left his mouth all he could think about was how perfect a picture it would make to see her cradling a baby to her while it suckled. His body had, of course, had a predictably male reaction to the image of her naked breasts, but it had been her unexpected sadness that had struck him.
And the more he thought about it, the more he was coming to believe that her calm sweetness hid depths of sorrow that she would not easily speak about.
The hospital grapevine being what it was, he already knew that she lived alone, but no one seemed to know any more than that—certainly not something as personal as whether she’d ever had a relationship that had resulted in a pregnancy, or even in a child who was no longer with her.
He couldn’t imagine that the woman who cared for his two babies with such fierce dedication would ever have abandoned a child of her own, but something devastating had definitely caused her to shut down, and, while he wanted to know what it was, more than anything he wanted her to trust him enough to tell him about it.
The sound of raised voices outside the dubious solitude of his refuge dragged him away from his speculations and back to the fact that he still had far too many hours left to his shift before he could escape to the relative peace of the unit upstairs. Ever since Adam and Amy’s early arrival in the world, his entire focus had shifted so that the two of them were at the heart of his day. Every time he had to leave them, he couldn’t wait until he could be with them again, and whereas at first the feeling had been one of desperation…that every minute with them might be their last…he was slowly beginning to believe that his time with them, was just the start of a whole lifetime.
And the fact that there was an extra eagerness in his step whenever he took the stairs up to the unit with the knowledge that he would be seeing Nadia again…well, that was something he would have to keep to himself.
‘Once more into the breach, dear friends…’ he quoted fatalistically, then downed the last of his coffee and forced himself to his feet. ‘It sounds as if the next wave of the flotsam and jetsam of Friday night’s humanity has been washed to our door. It’s a good thing we like our jobs.’
Nadia resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as she hurried towards the welcoming entrance of A and E.
For more than a week now she’d had the uncomfortably prickly sensation on the back of her neck that someone was watching her and, as much as she’d tried to convince herself that it was all in her imagination, the feeling scared her.
It wasn’t that the hospital grounds were poorly lit, because they weren’t. Since a spate of muggings a couple of years ago the security was almost as stringent in the surrounding paths and car parks as it was in the hospital itself, with newly installed lighting making everywhere almost as bright as daylight no matter what time it was.
No, there were very few shadows large enough to hide a potential assailant, but that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be someone hiding in plain sight, mingling with the constant flow of people moving in and out of what was the main entrance to the hospital. If someone wanted to keep an eye on her and track her comings and goings, it would be all too easy for him to duck behind a group of patients or visitors, or even to walk beside them and strike up a conversation so that he seemed to belong.
She could all too easily imagine Laszlo doing such a thing. He’d certainly had enough practice at pretending to be invisible, and just the thought that he might be spying on her while he made his plans was enough to make her shake in her sensible shoes.
She blew out a breath of relief when the automatic doors slid closed behind her and tried to shrug off the creepy sensation as she made her way swiftly towards the corridor leading to the staffroom.
If she was logical about it, she would dismiss the person she’d seen as someone who only bore a passing resemblance to the man who had destroyed her innocent dreams. The terror that had dominated every second of her da
y when she’d first escaped was in the past now. She was a very different person from that pathetic girl; someone with a profession and a future she could be proud of; someone with colleagues who respected her and with friends who would help her if she were to ask.
She tapped on the door and pushed it open just far enough to put her head through to see if Gideon was there, suddenly unaccountably shy.
For the first time since she’d been a daydreaming teenager with pictures of actors and singers on her walls, in the days when the world had still seemed an exciting place full of endless possibilities, she found herself daring to hope that she might have found the one man who could restore her faith in the goodness of men.
The prospect was scary, because for there to be a chance for something more to develop between them, she would have to be prepared to tell him about the events of her past…and she didn’t know if she would ever be brave enough to do that. She couldn’t bear it if she were to see the welcoming smile in those beautiful green eyes turn to cold disgust.
Would it be better if she were to keep a professional distance between them? Could she allow the tentative friendship that seemed to be developing, even though she was beginning to wonder if that would ever be enough to fill the emptiness inside her.
‘Nadia! Come in! Would you prefer tea or coffee?’
The warmth in Gideon’s voice and in his smile was irresistible, and her determination to just hand over the package in her hand and go straight up to the unit melted without trace.
‘You mentioned that you like gingerbread,’ she said diffidently as she handed over her little burden. ‘I’ve never made it before, but I found a recipe that—’
‘Mmm!’ he groaned as he sank his teeth into the first dark golden brown square, and to her amazement her body reacted to the sexy sound almost as though it could feel his pleasure.
‘That is just so…’ He bit off another large mouthful and closed his eyes as he chewed, his expression one of obvious ecstasy. His thick dark lashes flicked up to reveal gleaming green eyes. ‘This is the best gingerbread I’ve ever eaten,’ he said fervently. ‘And you say it’s the first time you’ve ever made it?’
A Family for His Tiny Twins Page 9
