Читать книгу Rising Stars Collection 2015 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 47

‘HE’LL be fine.’

It was six-thirty a.m. on Monday morning and Bridgette’s guilt didn’t lift as she handed a very sleepy Harry over to Mary, whom she had been introduced to last week. ‘It seems mean, waking him so early,’ Bridgette said.

‘Well, you start work early.’ Mary had the same lovely Irish brogue as Bridgette’s granny had had and was very motherly and practical. ‘Is his mum picking him up?’

‘No, it’s just me for the next few days,’ Bridgette explained. ‘She’s got laryngitis, so I’m looking after Harry for a while.’

‘Now, I know you’ll want to see him during your breaks and things, but I really would suggest that for the first week or two, you don’t pop down. He will think you’re there to take him home and will just get upset.’ She gave Bridgette a nice smile. ‘Which will upset you and you’ll not get your work done for worrying. Maybe ring down if you want to know how he is, and of course if there are any problems and we need you, I’ll be the first to let you know.’ Holding Harry, Mary walked Bridgette to the door and gave her a little squeeze on the shoulder. ‘You’re doing grand.’

Oh, she wanted Mary to take her back to some mystical kitchen to sit at the table and drink tea for hours, for Mary to feed her advice about toddlers and tell her that everything was okay, was going to be okay, that Harry was fine.

Would be fine.

It felt strange to be back in her regular uniform, walking towards Maternity. Strange, but nice. It had been a busy month. She was so glad for that photo—their one night together had caused something of an awakening for Bridgette, had shown her just how much she was missing and had been the motivation to really sort her life out as best she could. She had been to the social-work department at the hospital she had once worked in and taken some much-needed advice. They suggested daycare and allocated Harry a place. At first Courtney had resisted. After all, she had said, she didn’t work, but Bridgette stood firm—relieved that there would be more people looking out for Harry. She was especially glad that she had held her ground when the day before she started her new job, Courtney had come down with a severe throat infection and asked if Bridgette could step in for a few days.

Bridgette’s interview with Rita had been long and rather difficult. Rita wasn’t at all keen to make exceptions. She would do her best to give Bridgette early shifts but, no, she couldn’t guarantee that was all she would get, and certainly, Rita said, she wanted all her staff to do regular stints on nights.

It all seemed a little impossible, but somehow Bridgette knew she had to make it work and get through things one day at a time—and today would be a good day, Bridgette decided as she entered the familiar unit, the smell and sound of babies in the air. This was where she belonged. She made herself a coffee to take into the long handover. Bridgette was hoping to be put into Labour and Delivery—she really wanted to immerse herself in a birth on her first day back.

‘You’re nice and early.’ Rita was sitting at the computer, all busy and efficient and preparing for the day. ‘Actually, that helps. It’s been a very busy night, a busy weekend apparently. I’ve got a nurse who has to leave at seven. She’s looking after a rather difficult case—would you mind taking handover from her and getting started?’

‘Of course.’ Bridgette was delighted. It often happened this way, and it would be lovely to get stuck into a labour on her first day back. She took a gulp of her coffee and tipped the rest down the sink, rinsed her cup and then headed off towards Labour and Delivery.

‘No, it’s room three where I want you to take over—twenty-four weeks with pre-eclampsia. They’re having trouble getting her blood pressure back down.’

Okay, so she wasn’t going to witness a birth this morning, but still, it was nice to be back using her midwifery brain. ‘Hi, there, Heather.’ She smiled at the familiar face. The room was quite crowded. Dr Hudson, the obstetrician, was there with the anaesthetist, and the anxious father was holding his wife’s hand. The woman’s face was flushed and she looked very drowsy. Thankfully, she was probably oblivious to all the activity going on.

‘It’s so good to see you.’ Heather motioned to head to the door and they stepped just a little outside. ‘I’ve got to get away at seven.’

‘Is that why it’s good to see me?’ Bridgette smiled.

‘No, it’s just good to see you back, good to have someone on the ball taking over as well. I’m worried about this one. Her name is Carla. She came up from Emergency yesterday evening.’ Heather gave Bridgette a detailed rundown, showing her all the drugs that had been used overnight in an attempt to bring Carla’s blood pressure down. ‘We thought we had it under control at four a.m., but at six it spiked again.’ Bridgette grimaced when she saw the figures. ‘Obviously, they were hoping for a few more days at the very least. She’s supposed to be having a more detailed scan this morning. They were estimating twenty-four weeks and three days.’ That was very early. Every day spent in the womb at this stage was precious and vital and would increase the baby’s chance of survival.

The parents wanted active treatment and the mother had been given steroids yesterday to mature the baby’s lungs in case of premature delivery, but even so, to deliver at this stage would be dire indeed. ‘She’s just been given an epidural,’ Heather explained, ‘and they’re fiddling with her medications through that as well. They’re doing everything they can to get her blood pressure down.’ It just didn’t seem to be working, though. The only true cure for pre-eclampsia was delivery. Carla’s vital signs meant that her life was in danger. She was at risk of a stroke or seizures and a whole host of complications if she didn’t stabilise soon—even death. ‘They were just talking about transferring her over to Intensive Care, but I think Dr Hudson now wants to go ahead and deliver. The paediatrician was just in…he’s warned them what to expect, but at that stage we were still hoping for a couple more days, even to get her to twenty-five weeks.’

It wasn’t going to happen.

‘I hate leaving her…’

‘I know,’ Bridgette said.

‘Dillan starts at a new school today.’ Bridgette knew Heather’s son had had trouble with bullying and it sounded as if today was a whole new start for him too. ‘Or I wouldn’t dash off.’

‘You need to get home.’

The monitors were beeping and Heather and Bridgette walked back in.

‘Carla…’ Heather roused the dozing woman. ‘This is Bridgette. She’s going to be taking care of you today, and I’ll be back to take care of you tonight.’

The alarms were really going off now. The appalling numbers that the monitors were showing meant the difficult decision would have to be made. Bridgette knew that Heather was torn. She’d been with Carla all night and at any moment now Carla was going to be rushed over to Theatre for an emergency Caesarean. ‘Go,’ Bridgette mouthed, because if Heather didn’t leave soon, she would surely end up staying, and Dillan needed his mum today.

‘Let Theatre know we’re coming over,’ Dr Hudson said to Bridgette, ‘and we need the crash team from NICU. I’ll tell the parents.’

Bridgette dashed out and informed Rita, the smooth wheels of the emergency routine snapping into place. Five minutes to seven on a Monday was not the best time. Staff were leaving, staff were starting, the weekend team was exhausted, the corridors busy as they moved the bed over to the maternity theatres.

‘Okay.’ Bridgette smiled at the terrified father, whom Dr Hudson had agreed could be present for the birth. ‘Here’s where you get changed.’ She gave him some scrubs, a hat and some covers for his shoes. ‘I’m going to go and get changed too and then I’ll come back for you and take you in.’

Really, her presence at this birth was somewhat supernumerary. For a normal Caesarean section she would be receiving the baby; however, the NICU team was arriving and setting up, preparing their equipment for this very tiny baby, so Bridgette concentrated on the parents. Frank, the husband, wanted to film the birth, and Bridgette helped him to work out where to stand so that he wouldn’t get in the way. She understood his need to document every minute of this little baby’s life.

‘It’s all happening so fast…’ Carla, though groggy, was clearly terrified, because now that the decision had been made, things were moving along with haste.

‘We’re just making sure we’ve got everything ready for your baby,’ Bridgette explained as Dr Hudson came in. The anaesthetist had topped up the epidural and the operation would soon be starting.

‘We’re just waiting on…’ Kelly, one of NICU team called out, when asked if they were ready, and then her voice trailed off. ‘No problem. Dr Mansfield is here.’

Bridgette looked up and straight into those familiar black eyes, eyes that she stared at each day on her computer, except they didn’t smile back at her now. She tore her gaze away from him and back to her patient. She completely halted her thoughts, gave all her attention to her patient, because the operation had started, the incision made at seven-eighteen, and just a few moments later a tiny baby was delivered.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Bridgette told Carla. ‘She’s moving.’ She was, her red, spindly limbs flailing with indignation at her premature entry to the world.

‘She’s not crying,’ Jenny said.

‘She is.’ There was a very feeble cry and her face was grimacing. Frank was standing back, filming their tiny daughter. Bridgette watched the activity and for the first time she took a proper look at Dominic.

He needed to shave, his face was grim with concentration and he looked exhausted. Bridgette remembered Rita saying that it had been a very busy weekend, and this emergency had come right at the tail end of his on-call shift.

‘Can I see her?’ Carla asked, but already the team was moving the baby and she was whisked past. Carla got only a very brief glimpse.

‘They’re taking her into another area,’ Bridgette explained, as the team moved away, ‘and then she’ll be taken up to the NICU.’

‘Can I go with her?’ Frank asked. ‘Can I watch? I won’t get in the way. I just want to see what they’re doing.’

‘I’ll go and find out.’

Bridgette walked into the resuscitation area, where the baby would be stabilised as much as possible before being moved to NICU. Even though she had seen premature babies, now and for evermore the sight of something so small and so fragile and so completely tiny took her breath away. Bridgette loved big, fat babies, little scrawny ones too, but a scrap like this made her heart flutter in silent panic.

‘She’s a little fighter.’ Kelly came over. ‘We’re going to move her up in a couple of minutes.’

‘Dad wants to know if he can come and watch. He’s promised not to get in the way. He just wants to see what’s happening.’

‘Not yet,’ Dominic called over. ‘I’ll talk to him as soon as I can.’

‘Tell him to stay with his wife for now,’ Kelly suggested. ‘I’ll come and fetch him when Dominic is ready to talk to him.’

Kelly was as good as her word, and by the time Carla had been moved to Recovery, Kelly appeared, holding some new photos of their tiny daughter, which she handed to Mum and explained a little of what was going on. ‘The doctors are still with her, but Dominic said if I bring Frank up he’ll try to come out to speak with him. He’ll come down and talk to you a bit later.’

It was a busy morning. Carla spent a long time in Recovery before being transferred back to the maternity unit, but even there she still required very close observation as her vital signs would take a while to stabilise after the birth. Carla was still very sick and of course wanted more information about her baby, whom they’d named Francesca. Frank had seen her very briefly and was now back with his wife and clearly a little impatient about the lack of news.

‘Mary from daycare is on the phone for you.’ Nandita, the ward clerk, popped a head around the door and handed Bridgette the phone.

‘Nothing to worry about at all’ came Mary’s reassuring voice as Bridgette stepped out into the corridor. ‘I’m just about to head off for lunch and I thought I’d let you know how well he’s gone today. He’s found a stack of bricks, which amused him for most of the morning.’

‘Thanks so much for letting me know.’

‘He’s heading for an afternoon nap now. Anyway, you can get on with your day without fretting about him.’ Bridgette felt a wave of guilt when she realised she hadn’t even had time to worry about Harry and how he was doing on his first day at crèche and a wave of sadness too when she found out that, no, neither had Courtney rung to find out.

‘Hi, Carla.’ She gave the phone to Nandita, and as she walked back into her patient’s room she heard Dominic’s voice. If he had looked tired that morning then he looked exhausted now. ‘Hi, Frank.’ He shook the other man’s hand. ‘Sorry that it’s taken so long to come and speak with you. I’ve been very busy with your daughter and another child who was delivered yesterday. I wanted to take the time to have a proper talk with you both.’ He sat down next to the bed. ‘Carla, you’ll remember I spoke with you yesterday.’ He didn’t bog them down with too much detail. Apparently yesterday he had explained the risks of such a premature delivery and he didn’t terrify them all over again. He told them their daughter’s condition was extremely serious, but there was some good news. ‘She seems a little further on than first estimated. I’d put her well into twenty-five weeks, which, though it’s just a few days’ difference, actually increases the survival rates quite dramatically. She’s got size on her side too,’ Dominic explained. ‘Even though she’s tiny, she is a little bit bigger than we would expect at twenty-five weeks, and she’s had the benefit of the steroids we gave yesterday. She’s a vigorous little thing, and she’s doing absolutely as well as can be expected.’

‘When can I see her?’ Carla asked.

‘I spoke to Dr Hudson before I came down, and as much as we know you want to see your daughter, you’re not well enough at the moment.’

‘What if…?’ Poor Carla didn’t even want to voice it, so Dominic did.

‘If her condition deteriorates, we’ll sort something out and do our best to get you up there.’ He glanced over at Bridgette and so too did Carla.

‘Of course we will,’ she said.

‘But right now the best you can do for your baby is to rest and get well yourself.’ He answered a few more questions and then turned to Frank. ‘You should be able to see her for a little while now. I’ve told them to expect you.’

‘I’ll get Nandita to walk you up,’ Bridgette offered.

‘Lunch?’ Rita suggested as Bridgette walked over to speak with Nandita. ‘Emma will take over from you.’

It was a late lunch, and as Bridgette hadn’t had a coffee break, it was a sheer relief to slip off her shoes and just relax for a few moments. Well, at least it was until Dominic came in and sat on the couch opposite and unwrapped a roll. He gave her a brief nod but did not make any attempt at conversation, instead choosing to read a newspaper. It was Bridgette who tried to tackle the uncomfortable silence.

‘I thought you were in Sydney.’

‘It didn’t work out.’ He carried on reading the paper for a moment and then finally elaborated a touch. ‘The professor I would be working under was taken ill and has gone on long-term sick leave—I didn’t really care for his replacement, so I’m just waiting till something I want comes up, or the professor returns. I’m here for a few more weeks.’

He sounded very austere, such a contrast to the easy conversations they had once shared. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t even read his paper, just sat and ate his roll.

Couldn’t he have done that on NICU or on the paed ward? Bridgette thought, stirring her yoghurt. If he was going to sit there all silent and brooding, couldn’t he do it somewhere else? Surely it was already awkward enough?

For Dominic, in that moment, it wasn’t awkward, not in the least. He was too busy concentrating on not closing his eyes. Fatigue seeped through him. He’d had maybe six hours’ sleep the entire weekend and he just wanted to go home and crash. Thank goodness for Rita, who had noticed his pallor and given him a spare cold patient lunch and suggested that he take five minutes before he saw the baby he had come down to examine, as well as speaking with Frank and Carla. Rebecca, his intern, came in. Bridgette recognised her from that morning, and then a couple of other colleagues too, which should have broken the tension, but instead Dominic ignored everyone and made no attempt to join in with the chitchat.

And later, he didn’t look up when she had no choice but to sit and join him at the nurses’ station to write up her notes before going home.

He told, rather than asked, Rebecca to take some further bloods on a baby born over the weekend, and then when one of the midwives asked if he’d mind taking a look at some drug orders, holding out the prescription chart to him, he didn’t take it. Rather rudely, Bridgette thought, he didn’t even look up.

‘Is it a patient of mine?’

‘No, it’s a new delivery.’

He just carried on writing his own notes. ‘Then you need to ring the doctor on call.’

The midwife rolled her eyes and left them to it, and the silence simmered uncomfortably between them, or at least it was uncomfortable for Bridgette.

‘I’m sorry this is awkward.’ She tried to broach it, to go ahead and say what was surely on both their minds, to somehow ease the tension, because the Dominic she had seen today was nothing like the man she had met, and she certainly didn’t want to cause any problems at work. ‘Had I known you were still working here, I wouldn’t have…’ Her voice trailed off—it seemed rather stupid to say that she’d never have taken the job, that she wouldn’t have come back to the unit she loved. But had she known he would be here for a little while more, there might have been a delay in her return—with Jasmine being away she was completely out of the loop as to what was going on at work.

‘Awkward?’ Dominic frowned as he carried on writing. ‘Why would it be awkward?’ And then he shook his head. ‘Are you referring to…?’ He looked over and waited till her skin was burning, till there was no question that, yes, she was referring to that night. ‘Bridgette, it was months ago.’ She swallowed, because it was actually just a few weeks; she’d counted them. ‘We shared one night together.’ How easily he dismissed it, relegated it, reduced it to a long-ago event that had meant nothing—something so trivial that it didn’t even merit a moment’s reflection. Except she was quite sure that wasn’t true.

‘Thanks for the e-mail,’ she said, to prove it had been more than that, that he had come back to her door, had later that night sent her a photo, yet he frowned as if trying to place it and then he had the nerve to give a wry laugh.

‘Oh, that!’

‘You got my e-mail address?’

‘On some stupid group one from Vince and…’ He gave a shrug, clearly couldn’t remember Jasmine’s name. ‘Just clearing out my inbox, Bridgette.’ She felt like a stalker, some mad, obsessed woman, and he clearly must be thinking the same. ‘It was one night—hardly something to base your career path on. Don’t give it another thought. There really is no problem.’

‘Good.’

‘And as for awkward, it’s not in the least. This is how I am at work.’ And then he corrected himself. ‘This is how I am—ask anyone.’ He gave a very thin smile. ‘I’m not exactly known for small talk. It has nothing to do with what took place. It really is forgotten.’

And over the next few days he proved his point. She saw that Dr Dominic Mansfield was cool and distant with everyone. He was mainly polite, sometimes dismissive, and just never particularly friendly. There was an autonomous air to him that wasn’t, Bridgette realised, solely reserved for her. Not that she should mind—nothing had shifted her heart. She was still way too raw to contemplate a relationship. And the patients, or rather their parents, didn’t seem to mind the directness of his words in the least. In fact, as Bridgette wheeled Carla up later in the week for a visit with her newborn, Carla admitted it was Dr Mansfield’s opinion she sought the most about her daughter.

‘I don’t want a doctor who tries to spare my feelings,’ Carla said as they waited for the lift. ‘He tells it like it is, which Frank and I appreciate.

‘Mind you…’ she smiled as Bridgette wheeled her in ‘…he’s not exactly chatty. Gorgeous to look at he may be, but you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a lift with him.’ Whether she agreed or not, Bridgette smiled back, pleased to see her patient’s humour returning, along with colour to her cheeks. It really had been a hellish ride for Carla. It had been four days until she had been well enough to see her baby, and there was still, for Francesca, a long road ahead.

‘Carla.’ Dominic gave a nod to the patient as Bridgette wheeled her over.

‘Is everything okay?’ Carla asked, anxious to see him standing by Francesca’s incubator.

‘She’s had a good morning, by all reports,’ Dominic said. ‘I’m just checking in.’

He gave Bridgette the briefest nod of acknowledgement then moved on to the next incubator. He wasn’t, she now realised, being rude or dismissive towards her. It was the way Dominic was to everyone.

It hurt more than she had time to allocate to it. Her days were so busy, and more and more Courtney was asking her to have Harry. It was hard trying to achieve some sort of routine and work full-time with a toddler—a toddler who worryingly didn’t toddle very much, one who seemed far happier to sit with his building blocks, happier in his own world than hers. But sometimes at night, when all she should do was close her eyes and get some much-needed sleep, it was then that Bridgette’s mind wandered. It was on those occasions that she realised not so much what she’d lost but more what she’d been privy to that night.

A side to Dominic that was rare indeed.