Prognosis So Done

by Andrews, Amy

  Two spots of colour rose in her face, staining her cheeks and she shook her head, swallowing with apparent difficulty. ‘Gill...you’re surely not surprised by them?’

  ‘Yes, actually, I am. I thought we were getting things back on track. For God’s sake, you’ve rarely been out of my bed.’

  ‘I came to try one last time, Gill. But we’ve resolved nothing.’

  ‘I love you, Harry. I don’t want a divorce. I didn’t want a separation. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.’

  ‘This isn’t about love, Gill, and you know it. We want different things.’

  ‘A baby.’ He sighed. They’d had this conversation about a thousand times in the year before Harriet had walked out.

  ‘Yes, Gill, a baby.’

  Gill couldn’t think of anything worse if he tried. Except not being married to Harry. They had a great life. They were free to work where they wanted, live where they wanted, travel where they wanted. All with a backpack and a minute’s notice.

  They could make love all night and sleep in till lunchtime.

  Was there something so wrong with that?

  He didn’t know a lot about babies but he did know that their lifestyle would have to change drastically. And they’d been having fun, hadn’t they? Travelling around the world with the charity organisation MedSurg Aid Abroad. Living rough, working hard, changing lives. Making a difference.

  Seeing places and people and things, both good and bad, that few people ever got to experience in their lives. Touring the world while fulfilling their deep humanitarian beliefs. It was the ultimate lonely planet lifestyle and he didn’t want to give that up for nappies and 2 a.m. feeds.

  But with the divorce papers in his hands, the reality of the situation was difficult to ignore. Did he really want to lose her over this? Maybe if he compromised?

  ‘Look, I’m not saying I don’t ever want a baby...maybe one day I’ll feel differently.’

  ‘I’m 35, Gill. I don’t have time to wait for you.’

  Harriet could be very stubborn. She didn’t sugar-coat anything. If she felt it, she said it. ‘Are you sure? You’ve

  had a year, Harry. I don’t see you pregnant yet.’

  He heard her swiftly indrawn breath and wished he could withdraw the words.

  ‘You think I could go off with someone else and have a baby while I’m still married to you?’ she demanded. ‘You don’t know me at all, do you?’

  So, he had made her angry — well, she could join the club. Her changing her mind about what she wanted from life had pissed him off, too.

  ‘I used to but, no, these days it seems I don’t know you at all. What the hell happened to no, Gill, I don’t want a baby,’ he mimicked. ‘Never, absolutely not, no way. Too many kids in this over-populated world, Gill. What happened to that?’ he asked. ‘So don’t blame me if this sudden desire to have a baby makes me think that you might just go off and do it without me!’

  ‘You know damn well why the suddenness, Guillaume Remy!’ she said, her voice a vicious whisper.

  ‘Because of Rose? Your little sister has a baby and suddenly your clock is ticking louder than a home-made bomb?’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody obtuse,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, Rose started it — how could you not want a baby when you look into Tom’s beautiful chubby face? But if you can’t understand why discovering that I only have one ovary and Fallopian tube could knock me for six, maybe I don’t know you either. I’m sorry I changed the plot on you, but when a gynaecologist tells me I might have trouble conceiving, it comes as a bit of a shock. Surely you can see that?’

  No, he couldn’t. He was a man. And not just that but a man who didn’t have a paternal bone in his body. Sure, babies were cute — Tom was very cute. But their appeal had more to do with being grateful he could hand them back than any pleasure he took from holding them.

  He’d had a close call as a med student that had scared the hell out of him. There had been no feelings of joy or expectancy, just a horrible sinking feeling that his life was over. He’d carried that experience with him always and, in his head, babies always equalled the end of your life.

  As a doctor he had a great deal of empathy for the plight of the world’s poor and starving children often working like dogs from dusk to dawn in places torn apart by disease, war and poverty. He admired their strength and resilience and he’d spent many years patching them up when they were hurt or wounded, caught up in adult wars.

  But he’d never had the desire to adopt any of them or have one of his own.

  He had a strong sense of social responsibility and there was much he could offer this world. Having kids would just be a distraction from that purpose. His grandfather, who had grown up in Nazi occupied France before migrating to Australia after the war, had raised him to think of the plight of others and Gill had always felt immensely proud of the work he did.

  But. He was holding divorce papers in his hand. Before him stood the woman he loved. Who loved him. And she was asking him for something. Was prepared to never see him again, to cut all ties. Was he that strong? Did his career mean more to him than her? Did the world’s children mean more to him than the one she so desperately craved?

  He sighed. Saying goodbye to Harriet for ever wasn’t possible. Being apart from her for a year had been hard, but deep down he’d always known it was only temporary. That Harriet would work through her stuff and come back and they’d continue their lives.

  But divorce? This was serious.

  ‘Look, OK. You want a baby? All right, then, fine. Let’s have a baby.’

  He didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t Harriet’s cool, sceptical gaze. He’d hoped she’d leap into his arms and tear up the papers. Instead, her lips flattened into a terse line.

  ‘Don’t do me any favours, Gill.’

  He would have been an idiot to miss the sarcasm. ‘I mean it, Harry.’

  ‘No, you don’t, Gill. You’re just trying to appease me.

  Well, no, thank you very much.’

  Hell! What did she want from him? ‘Don’t say I didn’t offer,’ he said glibly.

  ‘Offer? Offer!’ she raged. ‘I don’t want an offer, Gill. I want you to want a baby with me so much that your breath hurts when you think about it. That your arms ache and your heart is full and your stomach is empty at the thought of not having one. You have to want one with very fibre of your being, Gill. Every cell. Can you offer me that? Because if you can’t then don’t try and placate me. It’s insulting.’

  ‘Look, OK, you’re right. I don’t,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’m still willing to give it a go.’

  Harriet sighed. ‘How willing? Are you prepared to give up your job, your career, this lifestyle?’

  ‘I could have both,’ he said, annoyed at her all-or-nothing attitude. ‘You could go home and have the baby and I could have two months abroad and one month at home.’

  OK, he was just making this up as he went along, but even he had to admit it sounded terrible. He could hardly blame her for her appalled expression.

  ‘No, Gill. You can’t. I don’t want to have a baby and be stuck at home by myself for great chunks of time. I want you to want to be around all the time for me and the baby. I don’t want to have to lie in bed each night worrying that you’re going to get shot by a local warlord or die in a helicopter crash. You forget so easily that this work we do is dangerous. I can’t live like that.’

  ‘I could maybe cut down to just one or two overseas missions a year...’

  ‘And how long would we last, Gill? How long before you resented me? Resented the baby?’

  Gill swallowed as he thought about her question. What an awful situation that would be.

  ‘Look,’ Harriet said, ‘this isn’t about me forcing you to do what I want. This is me saying I’m sorry, I changed the rules. You didn’t sign up for this and I know this isn’t what you want. I’ve always known. Heaven knows, I never expected to feel this way
either. I’ve tried to change your mind but I can’t make you want this the way I want it. And I do want it, Gill. I need it. And I’m asking you to let me go so I can find someone who wants it as much as I do.’

  The thought of her with someone else hurt like a fresh bruise deep inside that someone kept prodding. But she was right. If he couldn’t give her what she wanted then it was wrong to keep her bound to him.

  Gill sighed as he removed the papers from the envelope. Her fingers stop their drumming and he knew without having to look at her she was holding her breath. His eyes fell on the phrase

  irreconcilable differences.

  How pertinent. That was exactly their problem. They loved each other. They just wanted different things.

  ‘Are you sure, Harry? What we have is pretty special. Are you sure you can find that with someone else?’

  He didn’t mean to sound conceited — he was just stating a fact. And it was buying him time. Putting off the inevitable.

  Harriet shook her head and he was surprised to catch a shine of tears. ‘No, Gill. I’m not sure. I doubt I’ll ever love anybody as much as I love you. I honestly believe there’s only ever one true love for everyone. But that’s OK, I’m not looking for that. I know there’s someone out there that can make me happy and give me what I want the most.’

  ‘So you’re going to settle?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘No, Gill.’ She shut her eyes briefly as if to block out his censure, then opened them again. ‘I’m just looking for a

  different kind of love. One that has room for three.’

  He nodded slowly. Their love had always been kind of all-consuming. Blocking everything and everybody else out.

  She looked so lovely, standing in front of him and the desire to hold her in his arms was overwhelming. She pulled a pen out of her scrubs pocket and thrust it toward him as if she’d read his intent and was determined to derail it.

  He looked at her, at the plea in her eyes. It was time. Time to let her go.

  Taking the pen, Gill signed at the indicated places in his indecipherable doctor’s handwriting next to her neat signature. He placed her copies back in the envelope and handed them back to her, keeping his.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  He nodded and watched as she turned on her heel and left the room, taking his heart with her.

  CHAPTER THREE - 0900 HOURS

  If people noticed their indifference at the breakfast table, they didn’t say anything. In fact, as each of the team joined them at the communal table, good humoured jokes were told about their early morning wake-up call.

  ‘Hell,’ said Joan Sunderland, yawning as she pulled out her chair. Joan was the team anaesthetist and had been working with MedSurg and Gill for ten years. She was English of Trinidad heritage, her grandparents having migrated in the 50’s to the UK. ‘Parrots were loud this morning.’

  ‘Parrots?’ said Helmut. He was a Berliner and, as an anaesthetic technician, was Joan’s right-hand man. ‘Sounded human to me.’ And he winked at Harriet.

  Harriet blushed and stole a furtive glance at Gill. He was concentrating on his toast but she could see the poorly suppressed grin. There was something so wrong about the team teasing them when Gill had just signed the divorce papers.

  But, on the other hand, it was typical. They were a close-knit team. They’d been together on and off for a long time. They performed a stressful job in high-pressure situations and none of them could have come through some of the more awful things without the support of each other.

  ‘Hey, you two, keep it down next time,’ said Katya, her flat Russian accent accentuating her renowned bluntness as she and Siobhan entered the room together and joined them, completing the team.

  Everyone laughed. Even Harriet managed a grin as she glanced around the table, noticing how relaxed and happy they all were. When Harriet had rejoined the team in their current locale two months ago they had been a little cool towards her.

  Tense and worried.

  After all, they were the ones who had put up with Gill when she’d left a year ago and the dreadful year before that when their relationship had slowly crumbled. Apparently his mood had been foul for a long time and, as delighted as they’d been to welcome her back into the fold, they’d been wary about the effect on the team atmosphere.

  Cohesiveness was essential in their line of work. They didn’t have to all be bosom buddies but it helped. The dreadful security situations they faced in the countries they visited often meant they couldn’t even go out and soak up some local culture. They were stuck with each other’s company for two months at a time.

  So harmony was important.

  And there was a certain sense of loyalty for Gill. Harriet had felt it the minute she had got back. Nobody had judged her but they’d been through Gill’s highs and lows for the previous year and it had been only natural for their sympathies to lie with him.

  Gill was also the kind of guy who commanded loyalty and respect. Harriet sneaked another look at him as he poured coffee from the percolator into his mug. In his scrubs the naughty angel look had gone. He was Dr Guillaume Remy. Surgeon extraordinaire. Calm and capable. Brilliant and cool under pressure.

  Not a hot-shot arrogant city surgeon, specialising in a glamorous field and making heaps of money but a brilliant general surgeon getting paid a pittance to help the world’s poor and needy.

  A real team player. A doctor who knew the value of a team and cherished the contribution of everyone. No throwing instruments around theatres and indulging in tantrums. He possessed a poise that was exemplary and instilled a quiet confidence in all who worked with him.

  He brought his mug to his lips and Harriet admired his long, beautiful fingers. She deliberately didn’t think of what they’d just done and where they’d just been and how they could stroke against her skin and reduce her to a whimpering mass of need.

  She thought instead about how many lives they’d saved. How efficient they were with a scalpel. How deftly they accepted an instrument without needing to look. How neatly they could suture to keep scarring to a minimum.

  Her gaze travelled up to his face and lingered there for a while. His grey eyes were clear and bright, like a still tranquil pond, and his fine sandy hair framed a face that could almost be described as beautiful.

  He looked...European. Tall with finely chiselled features, fabulous cheekbones and a regal nose. His body was lean, fine-boned, and had she not known him at all, his French heritage would not have surprised her. Yes, he was an Australian through and through, but there was also just something so French about him.

  He laughed at something Helmut had said and Harriet blinked, realising she was staring. She tuned back into the conversation and immediately picked up the undercurrent of excitement as they all contemplated their last day of the mission. Tomorrow morning the MedSurg would fly them to London and then on to their different corners of the world for a month’s R and R, before bringing them together again in another unfortunate part of the planet.

  They were doing their things-I-have-missed-most-about-home routine. Yes, they all loved their jobs - sometimes with an almost fanatical zeal - but two months away from all you knew and loved, flung into the pressure cooker of a crumbling foreign nation, it was only natural to miss certain things. It was a game they always played on the last day of a mission. There was only one rule — it had to be something different every time.

  ‘A BBQ and my grandfather’s escargots,’ said Gill.

  Hmm, thought Harriet. Now, that she could relate to. Henri cooked the best snails. They were addictive.

  ‘The zoo. And frozen cobwebs,’ said Helmut.

  Well, living in Sydney, she didn’t see too many frozen anything but she understood the sentiment. In this place it didn’t even get cool overnight. Just the same oppressive heat.

  ‘Ice-skating and vodka. The proper stuff,’ said Katya.

  Everyone laughed, no doubt remembering the time they’d all got merry together at
an airport stopover a few years back on Katya’s vodka when their plane had been delayed.

  ‘The Mersey and British Rail,’ said Joan, and laughed at her little joke.

  ‘Well, let me see...Siobhan said in her lilting Irish accent. ‘Shopping in the high street and the smell of peat fires.’

  Harriet and Gill had stayed a few days at Siobhan’s family’s farm deep in the Irish countryside five years ago, and she’d loved the earthy smell of burning peat as well. Harriet smiled fondly at the memory and it took her a few seconds to register that they were waiting for her contribution.

  She glanced at Gill and quickly looked away as she met his steady grey gaze. What she missed most about home was the beachfront apartment she and Gill lived in at Bondi, and how they would make love all night and sleep till noon, then stroll along past all the cafés and eat pasta at their favourite Italian one. She missed that a lot.

  ‘Mangoes.’

  She smiled as an unbidden memory of Gill feeding her mango in bed rose in her mind. He had trailed the seed over her breasts and then thoroughly removed the sweet, heavenly juices with his tongue. Warmth flushed her cheeks and she stuttered out, ‘And sun-bathing,’ to cover for her thoughts that were both gutting and inappropriate.

  No more mango in bed for them...

  Gill had the same mango image in his mind and his mouth watered a little. And the sun-bathing didn’t help. He remembered how Harriet liked to go nude on the beach so her olive skin wasn’t marred by white strap marks.

  Once a hippy, always a hippy.

  Harriet had been brought up by alternative lifestyle parents who still lived a communal existence in the hinterland of Byron Bay. They had instilled in her a wonderful sense of justice and fairness and doing unto others, and he knew they had made her the wonderful humanitarian she was today.

  As well as a closet nudist.

  Gill hadn’t met anyone quite as at ease with their body or nudity as Harry. At home she barely wore clothes and every opportunity she got to disrobe she took gleefully. Which was a bonus for him. As far as he was concerned, she could be permanently naked.