Together they looked in at six patients, had quiet conversations with the stewards. The lull was continuing. But they still had to work and they knew that nearer morning, things would get worse.
‘Aren’t you tired yet?’ she asked him. ‘You only had an hour’s sleep.’
‘It refreshed me. And a situation like this brings its own momentum. It drags you along with it. But how about you? Aren’t you tired? You’ve had no sleep at all.’
‘I’m fine,’ she told him. Then she said something that suggested that she was not as in control as she’d thought. ‘And I really like working with you.’
There was a pause, a long pause. ‘It’s mutual. I really like working with you,’ he said eventually. ‘I think you’re a very fine nurse.’
She thought that she would have liked something a little more personal than that.
But it was a start.
His buzzer sounded. He listened to the message and said, ‘I see. We’ll be right there.’
‘Mr Simmonds,’ he said to Maddy. ‘Remember my father was worried about him? I’ve dropped in to see him a couple of times, he’s not doing too well.’
‘He was one of the first to fall ill. He didn’t send for me like the others. One of the stewards asked me to call round. When I called in he didn’t complain, just said that these things happen, that we had to put up with them.’
‘Hmm. A fatalist. Anything more you know about him?’
‘He kept very much to himself, didn’t look for company. Apparently he booked this trip six months ago with his wife—but she died three months later. He told me that they had planned the trip together so he was going to come on it in memory of her.’
She thought Ed looked uneasy. ‘That seems an odd thing to do to me,’ he said. ‘However, let’s see how he is.’
They went to the cabin and Maddy knew at once that things weren’t good. Neither the drip nor the drugs had been able to control his fever. His skin was hot and dry, and he was shivering. His temperature was far, far too high, and he was delirious. ‘Biddy,’ he mumbled, ‘is that you, Biddy?’
‘Who’s Biddy?’ Ed asked, though Maddy suspected he knew the answer.
She pointed to a photograph by the head of the bunk. It showed a younger Mr Simmonds and a laughing woman by his side. Looking as if they didn’t have a care in the world. ‘That’s Biddy. She was his wife.’
Ed took up the photograph and stared at it. Then he replaced it, shook his head and when he spoke his voice was unnaturally calm. ‘We’ve done all we can. It’s up to Mr Simmonds now. Do you want to wait with him, make sure he’s comfortable?’
Maddy knew her voice was shrill. ‘What about trying the mammoth injection? Like you did for Mrs Jones? It worked for her. She’s recovering.’
‘It wouldn’t work for this man.’ Ed shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t survive it. Look, I’ll leave you here for a while and check on some of the other patients. When it happens—and it won’t be long—then buzz me.’
And he was gone.
Mr Simmonds died quietly, and Maddy wondered if there was a smile on his face. Certainly he looked at peace. And before she had time to buzz Ed he came back into the room. ‘Mr Simmonds is dead,’ she told him. ‘Just as you said would happen.’ She couldn’t keep a thread of anger out of her voice.
His voice was gentle. ‘I’ve seen a lot of deaths through gastroenteritis,’ he said, ‘which is unusual, I know. In the West it’s usually not a killer, whereas in the developing countries it often is. You learn in time to tell just who will survive and who won’t. It’s a feeling rather than a medical technique.’
‘I thought you didn’t like feelings. But you say that you’ve seen a lot of deaths through this. How many is a lot?’ Her voice was abrupt. For some reason she had to keep pushing him. He had upset her.
He didn’t reply at first, but then he said, ‘A lot is over two hundred deaths in three weeks through gastroenteritis. That’s not counting those who died for other reasons.’
Maddy winced. How could he carry on having seen so many deaths? Perhaps this was the time to back off. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘And, Ed, before, I was a bit…a bit personal. I’m sorry.’
Perhaps there was a touch of humour in his voice. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. I like straight talking. Now I’d better pronounce death. Do we tell the captain now or let him have some sleep?’
‘We ought to tell him, but there’s absolutely nothing he can do. Let him sleep a little longer.’
Ed looked at Mr Simmonds’s still form, looked at Maddy. ‘Are you all right, Maddy?’
‘I’m a nurse, I’ve seen death before. Don’t worry about me, Ed.’ She was glad they were OK again. ‘Now I’ll have to—’
Her buzzer sounded. Kate’s voice said, ‘Things are moving faster than I had expected here. Want to come and lend a hand? And can you get Ed to come, too? Is it possible?’
‘He’s here with me. We’re both on our way.’
‘Make sure you’ve showered, scrubbed yourselves and put on something clean. I like my delivery room sterile.’
‘Right,’ Maddy said.
They left Mr Simmonds’s cabin, locking the door behind them.
Breech births were often faster than normal births, Maddy learned. The ideal position was supported squatting, which made it easier to perform an episiotomy.
The second stage occurred just as it was described in the text books. As it was a breech presentation it seemed to be faster than normal. The mother cried out one last time as Kate’s capable hands busied themselves. Then Maddy saw the midwife smile.
‘It’s a little girl!’ And then they heard that first tiny cry.
The parents had opted not to be told the baby’s gender in advance.
Kate wrapped the little pink form in a blanket, clamped then cut the cord. She offered the wailing bundle to Ed so he could give her to her mother, to be put straight on the breast.
Ed shook his head, stepped back and indicated that Maddy should hand over the baby.
Maddy was happy to do it. She thought it was a magical moment when a mother saw her child for the first time. Unlike a lot of medicine, child birth usually produced a happy ending. And as ever, the mother was overwhelmed, the pain now largely forgotten as the reward was so great.
‘Have you thought of a name yet?’ she asked Mrs Flynn.
She smiled weakly, exhausted but euphoric. ‘No. We were going to wait and see what we got. No good picking a name if you’re not going to use it, is it? But I think I’d like something to do with the sea.’
‘We’ll all have a think,’ Maddy promised with a smile.
There was still the placenta to be delivered, the Apgar score to be recorded and Mrs Flynn checked for excessive bleeding. But although it had been a breech birth it had been largely trouble-free.
‘Think you could have managed it?’ Maddy whispered to Ed as Kate busied herself with her tasks.
‘Not on my own. But I think perhaps that we could have managed it together. Though I think you would have been better at it than me. But in medicine it’s always when you think that you can more or less manage that things go seriously wrong. Like I said, hope for the best, prepare for the worst.’
‘There’s the planning mind again. That’s your slogan, isn’t it? And I suppose it’s quite a good one.’ Maddy looked across the little theatre. ‘Kate, I’ll stay but do you need Ed any more?’
‘No. But, Ed, once you’ve been out in that corridor, exposed to things, just to be on the safe side you’re to keep out of the baby’s ward. From now on it’s an isolation ward. In fact, you keep out too, Maddy. Mother and baby are now my concern, I don’t need you.’
‘Bossy people, midwives,’ Ed said.
They had decided that the mother and baby should be moved from the theatre to one of the small wards. Kate had already prepared it. She had also arranged for food to be delivered, for Mr Flynn to get what was necessary from their cabin and for him to have somewhere to sleep.
‘You go and do the rounds,’ Maddy suggested to Ed. ‘Come back when we’ve got mother and baby settled and we’ll have a drink to celebrate.’
‘Champagne at half past five in the morning?’
‘I thought that tea might be more sensible.’
‘Then I’ll be there.’ Ed went to congratulate the mother again and left the room.
He came back three-quarters of an hour later to join Kate and Maddy. Kate had been given the now absent doctor’s cabin. Mother and baby had been settled next door but an alarm ran from the ward to the cabin.
‘Celebratory tea,’ Maddy offered, ‘and a special meal of chocolate biscuits.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘We’ll have our little party and then Kate can sleep here for a while. Someone dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night.’
‘I’ll just doze,’ Kate said, ‘so I can listen out for my patients.’
Ed accepted a mug of tea and a chocolate biscuit. ‘You didn’t tell my father you were coming out here, did you?’ he asked Kate.
Kate grinned at him. ‘I did not. And you didn’t ask him either, or he’d have been at the harbour side with a few things to say about the idea. He likes to be kept informed, so he’s not going to be very pleased when you tell him.’
‘That’s something I’ll have to deal with. Did you mind coming out here without his permission? Will he be angry at you?’
‘Nick has been angry with me in the past—and I’ve been angry at him,’ Kate said serenely. ‘Somehow we’ve both got over it.’
Maddy couldn’t quite make out the expression in Kate’s eyes when she spoke about Nick. It wasn’t just affection, there was a feeling of…wistfulness? Then she shrugged. It was the middle of the night, and Kate was obviously tired.
‘What about a name for baby Flynn?’ she asked. ‘The mother thinks she’d like something to do with the sea.’
‘The obvious one is Marina,’ Kate said promptly. ‘Or there are variations. Maris or Marnie or Rina.’
‘I quite like Marina,’ Maddy said. ‘Are there any other sea-type names?’
‘Dorian means child of the sea.’ Kate was obviously an expert on names.
Maddy winced. ‘You couldn’t send any child out into the world called Dorian Flynn.’
Kate shook her head. ‘Parents can do anything. Thank goodness this was a little girl. If it had been a boy, they might have called him Errol.’
Maddy had seen this happen before after a birth or a successful operation. If the staff had time they would sit together feeling excited, successful. They might have a half-joking conversation, like this, it was all part of sharing. And for the first time in some hours she was feeling relaxed.
‘I want a baby some time,’ she said. ‘There was a time when I thought it was possible, when I could see a future with a husband and a baby, living in a house with a nice garden. I even bought a book of names. I rather fancied calling my daughter Hannah or my son Luke. But it never happened.’
‘Plenty of time yet,’ said Kate. ‘Your chance will come.’
‘Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ll concentrate on my career and finish up the matron of a vast hospital.’
‘Matron? You mean Senior Manager,’ Kate snorted. ‘Whatever that might be.’
Although he was sitting there, a half-smile on his face, Ed wasn’t joining in the conversation. He didn’t share in the excitement, the elation. Perhaps he was tired, Maddy thought. But, then, they were all tired.
Ed’s buzzer sounded. He took the call, and Maddy heard him say, ‘You were right to call me, I’ll be right there.’ He looked at Maddy. ‘Mrs Gillan, cabin D35. The steward says she’s very weak, panicking a little. I’ll go and see how things are.’
‘I’ll come, too,’ Maddy said. ‘And Kate can stay here and doze.’
In fact, Mrs Gillan was over the worst of the infection. Her fever was down. But she was very tired, still afraid, more in need of reassurance than anything else. Ed examined her, told her that she was over the worst and gave her something to help her sleep. Then he said that he and Maddy would stay with her for a while. He chatted to her but Maddy thought that his usual good humour wasn’t there, his words seemed a bit forced. Perhaps she should join in the conversation…
‘We’ve just delivered a baby,’ she told Mrs Gillan. ‘Not what you expect on a cruise ship—but these things happen.’
Mrs Gillan looked vaguely interested. ‘I’m expecting my first grand child in two months,’ she murmured. ‘I’m quite excited.’
‘It’s something lovely to look forward to,’ said Maddy. ‘Now, close your eyes and think of babies’ names like we did.’
Shortly afterwards Mrs Gillan was sound asleep but Ed showed no wish to move from her cabin. Maddy looked at him, concerned. ‘You seem a bit low,’ she said. ‘Is going without sleep getting to you?’
‘I don’t need sleep, Maddy. I’m fine.’
She noticed that he didn’t deny that his spirits were low. ‘Mrs Gillan here is fine and we’ve just had a very nice surprise with baby Flynn. The successful birth of a baby is usually one of the more enjoyable bits of medicine.’
‘So I understand.’
‘You understand? Is that all? Ed, what is the matter with you? In the past couple of hours you’ve changed. Something is hurting you—can’t you tell me what? We’ve shared a lot so far. Can’t you share this?’
His voice was bleak. ‘All right, I’ll share, though it’s not something that usually I like doing. I’ll tell you but I don’t want to talk about it afterwards. Is that OK?’
She felt that she’d achieved something with him. A barrier between them was coming down. ‘That’s fine,’ she said.
They were talking in whispers as they didn’t want to disturb Mrs Gillan. ‘You guessed I’d been in the army and I’ve told you that I worked in Africa, that I supervised a so-called hospital where there was an epidemic of gastroenteritis.’
‘I know that,’ she said. ‘It must have been horrific. How could you cope? And how do you cope now?’
‘Same answer to both questions. Because I’m a doctor, it’s what we do.’ He paused, and she wondered what might come next, what could come next.
‘It’s the feeling of inadequacy,’ he said. ‘The anger at knowing that with a little more help you could do so much good. People around me were dying for the want of a few pounds’ worth of drugs. Especially children. I started off strong, determined to do what I could and knowing that I’d have to be satisfied with doing my best. But it was a poor best. And as the days passed and I got more and more tired and the death rate didn’t go down…well, it hurt. When I left that place I vowed that never again would I go back to an epidemic like it. But when I heard of this outbreak, I just had to come to see if I could cope.’
‘But you’re doing a fantastic job!’ She frowned and said, ‘But the memories are hurting, aren’t they?’
‘Something like that.’
She thought over what he had told her. ‘But there’s more isn’t there?’
The answer came back too quickly to be true. ‘No!’
There was silence for a moment and then she said, ‘I’m interfering again, I know. But, please, would you tell me more about it some time? It would help me to know you better and I…I want to do that.’
Another long silence and she stared at his forlorn face. Then he took one of her hands, squeezed it and then somehow managed to smile. ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever been tempted to talk to about it. Perhaps some day I will tell you. But now you stay here with Mrs Gillan while I go to check on a couple more patients.’ And he was gone.
Maddy made a quick nurse’s check on Mrs Gillan and then sat down to think about what Ed had told her. Now she could understand him better. Every moment he had been on board he must have been reminded of that camp in Africa. She knew about battlefield trauma but she realised there was similar trauma for those who were not actually fighting.
Now she knew so much more
about his life. Only she had a feeling that he had held something back. And that he wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t let himself.
The next question was why did she want to know more about him? She’d already decided that he wasn’t the kind of man she ought to care for. She didn’t really want to care for any man. Or did she?
She remembered their kiss. How many hours ago had it been? Six, seven? Had it been as long as that? She had thought about it so often since. He had kissed her—without any encouragement at all. No encouragement? Well, she had put her hand on his arm. In a sense she had made the first overture. Just a little one, though.
There was the gentlest of taps on the cabin door then Ed came in. She looked at him almost in surprise, as if he was the last person she had expected. She had just been thinking about him!
‘If Mrs Gillan’s OK, I could do with a hand on the next deck,’ he said quietly.
‘She’s asleep and she’ll stay that way. I’m coming.’
They walked out of the cabin, along the deserted companion way, They came to a porthole, and for a moment both stopped to look at the dark raging sea outside.
Once again, she put her hand on his arm. ‘You have to know I’m not like this,’ she said. ‘I’m off men, I don’t want any new relationship, I don’t really even know you. But we agreed. This is time out. We’re on a ship, what we do here doesn’t count. So I want you to kiss me again. Just for comfort, for you as well as me.’ She stopped a moment, looked up at him and asked hesitantly, ‘That is, if you want to kiss me.’
She could tell that he did want to kiss her. One arm round her waist, one hand holding the back of her head, gently he leaned towards her. When their bodies were touching it felt so…so right. As if she were coming home, as if she belonged here. And there was no hurry. She wrapped her arms round his waist.
He was stroking her, his fingertips caressing the soft skin of her throat and cheek. It was gentle but it felt so good.
Then his lips touched hers. Softly at first, then, when she offered no resistance, harder, stronger, more demanding. What had started as gentle, cautious turned into something far more desperate, more passionate. She could feel her need for him growing within her. Suddenly her breasts were taut, her body feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the air around them. And she knew he felt it, too, his need was all too obvious. And she liked it. Perhaps they could…
Nurse Bride, Bayside Wedding Page 7
