‘I hope so, because she’s been saying the same about you.’
Hugh laughed. ‘So we’re both perfect—is it any wonder we clashed? Anyway, I’ve held you up long enough. No doubt you’re desperate to get back to your baby.’
Turning to go, her hand stayed on the doorhandle. She felt rather than heard him turn back to the computer and though she didn’t want to do it, Rachael also knew that it was time. If they were going to have any chance of working together as a team, then some things were just best out in the open.
‘Hugh …’ The tapping on the keyboard stopped. ‘I’m not saying this to make you feel awkward …’ He swung back to face her, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at her face.
‘Whatever’s wrong? I thought we’d decided to start afresh tomorrow, the rows forgotten.’
She nodded, biting hard on her lip, taking a moment to compose herself before she answered as Hugh watched her quizzically. ‘I know that. Look, I didn’t say anything to Hailey because she’s only going to be here for the next couple of days so it didn’t seem fair to upset her, but you and I are going to be working together a lot …’
‘Rachael, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I know.’ There was an awful silence … Hugh waiting for her explanation, Rachael wondering just how best to give it.
‘I did have a little girl,’ she started. ‘Her name was Amy.’ She watched as his quizzical look vanished, replaced instead by a look of cold shock, horror even, as he registered the past tense in her words. ‘And, as I said to Hailey, she was beautiful.’
‘Was?’ Hugh’s voice was more a croak, and he involuntarily winced as she nodded.
‘She was stillborn.’
Strong hands were around her then, guiding her to a chair, gently pushing her down onto the solid seat behind her.
‘Sorry.’ Rachael spoke softly.
‘Don’t say sorry.’ His voice was slightly breathless as he grappled to respond to her, the wind knocked out of his sails. ‘It should be me saying sorry, Rachael. I had no idea.’
‘Of course you didn’t, no one ever does. You go off on maternity leave and everyone just assumes that you’ve had a wonderfully healthy baby and you’re going to break into a spiel about sleepless nights and nappy rash.’
‘But why didn’t you just say something? I mean, Hailey was banging on about babysitters.’ He winced as he recalled the conversation. ‘It must have been agony for you.’
‘It was.’ Rachael let out a low laugh but they both knew it was void of any humour. ‘Look, Hugh, how are you feeling now?’
‘Me?’ He stared at her, bemused.
‘How do you feel now that I’ve told you?’
‘Awful,’ he admitted. Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. ‘And really sad for you.’
‘Imagine how Hailey would feel. Imagine how she’d have felt if I’d turned around and told her the truth. She only meant well, she was just being nice.’
‘But you can’t go around not telling people just so you don’t hurt them,’ Hugh argued. ‘So that you don’t make them feel awful. What about your pain, what about how you feel?’
‘It was a one-off.’ Rachael gave a shrug. His hand was still wrapped around hers and she fixed her eyes on them, not embarrassed at the contact, if anything, slightly comforted. ‘Hopefully the next time a patient recognises me, if ever, I’ll be a bit more …’ she searched for the right word. ‘A bit more … . Oh, I don’t know, not so prone to bursting into hysterical tears perhaps.’
‘Feel free.’ Hugh’s free hand delved into his suit, pulling out a heavy navy silk handkerchief, which he pressed into her hand. She stared at it for a moment or two, and then shook her head.
‘I’ll be all right.’
‘I’m sure you will, but there’s nothing wrong in crying.’
Again she shook her head. ‘Accepting,’ she gave a sniff. ‘That’s the word I meant. Next time I have to tell a patient, I’ll be more accepting of the fact.’ His eyes were on her his hand still holding hers as she prattled on. ‘There are five stages of grief apparently, and acceptance is the final one.’
‘Where are you now?’ His voice was gentle, more an echo of her own thoughts really.
‘Well, I’m past the denial stage, so I guess I’ve moved on to anger,’ Rachael said with a trembling voice. ‘Maybe the textbooks do get it right sometimes, because angry just about sums me up at the moment. I’m angry for me and I’m angry for Amy, for all she’s missed out on and all the pain I’ve been through. It’s nearly been a year now.’ She nibbled at her lower lip and fiddled with the handkerchief in her hand as he still held her. ‘That’s a long time to be angry.’ Brown eyes, devoid of tears yet steeped in pain, finally looked up, and she found herself staring back into his infinitely understanding ones. ‘I think I must be stuck at number two. Maybe I’m a slow learner.’
‘Maybe you’ve got a lot to be angry about?’
A tiny nod was all she could manage, coupled with a loud blow into the handkerchief, the silk cool against her face. It smelt of Hugh, smelt of expensive aftershave and extravagance, and it would have been so easy to bury her face in it, to lay her head on that expensively suited shoulder and give way to the tears that were dangerously close. So very easy, but so very scary. ‘I’d better go.’ Standing, she retrieved her bag from the floor.
‘You’ll be all right—driving home, I mean?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ The brittle smile was back. She held out the handkerchief then, realising she had used it, hastily stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket. ‘I’ll wash and return it.’
Hugh gave a tiny shrug. ‘There’s no need. I’ll survive without it.’
All of a sudden Rachael felt embarrassed, embarrassed and exposed. No doubt Hugh thought she was used to this type of thing, used to baring her soul.
But she wasn’t.
To date this was as close as she’d come. As close as she had been to breaking down and exposing the depths of her grief.
‘I’m so very sorry.’
Rachael gave a small shrug. ‘Like I said, you weren’t to know.’
He pulled her back as she went to leave, his hand finding hers again, and it felt so right she let it stay there for a moment as he spoke. ‘I wasn’t talking about this afternoon. I’m sorry for your loss, Rachael, I’m sorry to hear about Amy.’
Making her way down the long polished corridor, she walked faster, rummaging in her bag for her keys, unclipping her name badge—anything other than looking up and catching sight of the signs for the maternity unit.
Funny, hearing Hugh say Amy’s name hadn’t hurt. It had actually helped, helped make her baby more real, meant that she had existed after all.
Meant that there was a reason for the agony in her soul.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR the entire morning Hailey had been the model patient. Not once did her fingers stray to the buzzer and no matter how many times Rachael popped her head in or tried to strike up a conversation she was met with a polite smile and an assurance that everything was fine. Rachael had been allocated Purple Bay for the last couple of days but was now back in the orange bay. As she gently cleaned the fine wound around Hailey’s breasts, the fact that her patient wouldn’t meet her eyes had to be addressed.
‘Hugh told you, didn’t he?’
‘Told me what?’
‘Hailey?’ Rachael’s voice was soft but firm. ‘I’ve had enough people unable to meet my eyes to last a lifetime. Dr Connell shouldn’t have said anything.’ There was an edge to Rachael’s voice, which she fought quickly to control. Poor Hailey was already feeling bad enough without thinking she had caused unrest amongst the staff.
‘I’m sure he didn’t intend to, I just mentioned how nice it was to have the same nurse looking after me again, how hard it must be coming back to work and leaving your …’ Her voice stilled for a moment. ‘I guess Dr Connell knows me well enough to realise that I can’t go five minutes without delving into someone’s life.’<
br />
‘You like a gossip, then?’ They were chatting more easily now as Rachael concentrated on doing the dressing.
‘Don’t we all? Anyway, when I spoke about you the next morning when Dr Connell did his ward round, he just said that I should go easy on you, that’s all. He didn’t break any confidences. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together and now I feel just awful.’
‘Well, there’s no need,’ Rachael said firmly, carefully strapping the dressing back in place. ‘And you weren’t being nosy or prying. It was a perfectly normal question to ask—in fact, it was nice that you remembered me. I’m just sorry you’ve been made to feel awkward when you were only trying to be friendly.’
‘You should have just said, Rachael. You can’t worry about upsetting other people all the time—you’re the one who’s living with it. It does get easier, you know.’ Hailey’s tone changed subtly, the slightly dizzy voice softened with a wistful note, and for the first time that morning the two women’s eyes met, no longer a nurse and patient but two women who’d shared the same pain, the only difference being that one was further down the long lonely path. ‘You do what it takes to get you through.’ Looking down at the dressing that Rachael had just finished, a smile crept over Hailey face as she admired her new breasts. ‘Maybe not quite as extreme as this but, hey, what the hell. They’re just fabulous, aren’t they? I can’t wait to get them home!’
They were laughing so hard it took a moment to register that Hugh had joined them behind the curtains.
‘Sorry to break up the party, ladies. I just wanted to check everything was all right for your discharge home, Hailey, before I head off to Theatre.’ Whipping out his stethoscope, he gave them both a curious smile. ‘What’s the joke? I could use a laugh this morning.’
Thankfully it was Hailey who answered. ‘We were just admiring your handiwork, Dr Connell.’
Surprisingly, he blushed. Very surprisingly, Rachael found herself musing as she took a well-earned break halfway through the morning. After all, he must see more women’s breasts than any man could wish for, yet a touch of female humour had made Hugh blush like a teenager. Still, that rather endearing trait in his character didn’t go anywhere close to making up for the fact that she was angry with him.
Furious, in fact—for putting Hailey in such an awkward position and for assuming that he had the right to share what Rachael had told him—and when Hugh came to the ward next time she was going to tell him as much.
‘Don’t get up,’ Helen said as she came into the staff room waving an admission slip. ‘We’ve got a new patient coming in. I’m going to put him in the side ward of Orange Bay. You mightn’t even get him on your shift, he’s a direct transfer from Warragul so it all depends on the ambulances when he arrives.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Taking the admission slip, Rachael ran her eyes down the scribbled note, her face screwing up as she read the rather graphic details. ‘How can you amputate a bottom lip?’
‘It’s an industrial accident. It sounds awful, doesn’t it? Apparently the mid-third of his lower lip is completely gone.’
‘Have they got the missing part?’ Rachael asked. ‘Will they be attempting to reattach it?’
Helen shook her head. ‘It was irretrievable apparently. According to the doctors at Warragul it’s a very neat injury though, and Hugh seems to think there’ll be no problem repairing it. He’s even talking about doing it under local anaesthetic.’
‘Well, I hope he’s as good as everyone keeps saying. This poor guy’s only nineteen.’
‘Oh, Hugh’s good,’ Helen said assuredly. ‘I’ve only been working with him for a month or so, but some of the things I’ve seen can only be described as miraculous.’ Lowering her rather ample bottom into the seat next to Rachael, Helen let out a rather too casual sigh. ‘What were the fireworks about the other day?’ When Rachael didn’t immediately answer Helen carried on tentatively, ‘I saw you both coming out of the drug room looking thunderous, and the atmosphere was hardly friendly for the rest of the shift. I put you in Purple Bay to give you both a chance to cool down, but this morning it wasn’t possible.’
‘You don’t need to keep us apart,’ Rachael said testily. ‘We had a difference of opinion, that’s all.’
‘About what?’
‘He thought I was incompetent. I begged to differ,’ Rachael said airily. But realising Helen wasn’t going to let things go that easily, she gave a small shrug. ‘Everything I did on my first day back just made me look awful—the little crack about my divorce, being ten minutes late with my drugs …’
‘That was my fault. I kept you talking after handover.’
‘Normally it wouldn’t have mattered, but Mrs Cosgrove had chest pain so I got held up. Anyway, they were only ten minutes late. Had it been any other doctor, they wouldn’t have even noticed.’
‘Hugh’s a perfectionist,’ Helen said knowingly.
‘And as you and I both know, I don’t seem to do very well with perfectionists.’
‘Oh, come on, Rachael, you can hardly compare Hugh to Richard,’ Helen argued. ‘They’re nothing alike. Richard was obsessed with your appearance, with furthering his career. All Hugh’s interested in is the welfare of his patients.’
‘You reckon?’ Draining her cup, Rachael stood up. ‘Hugh furthers his own career because of people like Richard, and if I’d listened to my ex-husband, no doubt I’d have paid a fairly significant portion off Hugh’s sports car in medical fees. I’d say they were very much alike.’
Helen laughed at her cynicism. ‘How do you even know Hugh’s got a sports car?’
‘Call it an educated guess. And, no doubt, in the passenger seat is a skinny blonde girlfriend with a cleavage to die for. He’s exactly like Richard.’
‘I think you’re being a bit harsh.’ Helen gave a cheeky grin. ‘Hugh’s much better-looking.’
‘All the more reason to stay clear if you ask me. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about keeping us apart any more. We both apologised and everything’s fine.’
Until the next time I see him, Rachael thought wryly as she headed out to the ward, just in time to say goodbye to a rather gorgeous-looking Hailey, a new woman indeed now she wasn’t in her nightdress.
‘Look at you!’ Rachael exclaimed with a smile.
‘I feel as if I’m about to topple over.’ Hailey giggled. ‘They feel huge.’ In truth they weren’t huge. Rachael had looked at her patient’s notes and had seen the ‘before’ pictures and despite her own reservations about cosmetic surgery, she could see why Hailey had opted for the enlargement. Hailey’s before shots made Rachael look positively buxom for the first time in her life! Hugh’s surgery certainly hadn’t been drastic or over the top, anything but. Hailey was leaving the ward with a nice, feminine shape and a smile that would light up the whole of Melbourne. ‘I bought these for the staff.’ Hailey handed a large tin of chocolate to Rachael. ‘To say thanks.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Rachael scolded as she took the tin and opened the small card attached. ‘Thanks ever so much, Hailey, they won’t last five minutes in this place. Now, have you got all your discharge medications and your outpatient’s appointment?’
Hailey nodded. ‘In my suitcase. Gary’s just taking it down to the car.’
‘Remember to do your deep-breathing exercises and to finish all your antibiotics.’
‘As if I could forget. Dr Connell made his instructions very clear. I daren’t get another chest infection, I don’t think he’d forgive me.’ She held up her hand and ticked off on her fingers. ‘I’ve got to take all my meds, wear a support bra and avoid heavy lifting and vacuuming for the next month.’
‘Maybe I should book in for one after all,’ Rachael joked. ‘I could use a month off housework.’
‘You’re fine as you are.’ Hailey paused uncomfortably for a moment. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you—before, I mean.’
‘You didn’t, Hailey,’ Rachael said gently. ‘In fact, you probably di
d me a favour. It’s better if people know, I can see that now.’
‘It does get easier.’
Rachael took a deep breath. ‘Promise?’
‘I promise. Are you in a support group?’
‘Hey, who’s the nurse here? That’s the sort of question I’m supposed to be asking you.’
But Hailey refused to be fobbed off and, fishing in her purse, she handed Rachael a card. ‘Take all the help you can, Rachael. Who knows? I might see you at a coffee morning.’
Glancing down, Rachael looked at the card Hailey had given her. The name of the voluntary support group that had visited her in the hospital was familiar.
Painfully so.
For a moment Rachael was assailed with a host of images, so clear, so agonising that for a second the months rolled away, the year disappeared and she was back where it all had started.
Or, more pointedly, back where it all had ended. Lying in her hospital bed, her hands over her ears, trying to block out the lusty cries of the newborns in the nursery, her swollen breasts aching, engorged, a physical reminder of her desire to feed, to hold, to love.
Sue had been her name.
Sue, the woman who had sat on her bed, the woman who had gently held her hand as she’d stared dry-eyed at the bland curtains. Sue, who had spoken eloquently, her quietly imparted words making some sense in the swirling fog of despair. Sue had given her a card then, the same card Hailey was handing her now, coupled with the same offer to keep in touch, the same gentle invitation to come along whenever she was ready …
‘We’ll see,’ Rachael said as evenly as she could manage, and made a mental note to bin the card the second Hailey had gone, wishing this uncomfortable exchange was over. Hailey would have said more, Rachael was sure of it, but thankfully Hugh appeared to check on one of his patients and Hailey couldn’t resist the chance to say goodbye to him just one more time. Unwrapping a chocolate, Rachael pulled out her file to sign off the discharge. She filled in her file, the page opening on Hailey’s past history. ‘Gravid 3, Para 2’, which loosely translated to pregnancies three, live births two, the words written neatly, no indicator of the silent agony that so many, too many women endured.
The Surgeon’s Gift Page 3
