Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance - Carol Marinelli, Amalie Berlin - Страница 57

‘ARE YOU GOING to a funeral?’ Macey checked, seeing Steele’s dark suit and tie the following Tuesday morning. ‘Wait till you get to my age. I go to one a month.’

‘It’s a memorial service,’ he said. He really liked speaking with Macey. She was so blunt about everything.

‘Oh, is it for that nurse in Emergency?’ she asked. ‘The one Elaine’s crying over?’

‘Elaine?’ Steele glanced across the ward and sure enough a very flat Elaine, very un-bossy of late Elaine, was sitting at the desk when she’d normally be bustling about. ‘He got off with her at a Christmas party,’ Macey said, ‘from what I can make out. Then he had nothing to do with her the next day. I would say he wasn’t a good caretaker of lovely young hearts.’

‘Oh, he’s St Gerry now.’ Steele rolled his eyes.

‘And I shall be St Macey for a while after I die and then people will start to remember what a cantankerous old thing I really was.’

He laughed and looked into her wise eyes. ‘You don’t miss anything, do you?’

‘Not with the new medication.’ She smiled. ‘I’m back.’

‘God help us, then.’ Steele smiled.

‘You wouldn’t have met him, though,’ Macey said, and the smile was wiped off his face at her perception.

‘Sorry?’

‘He was in Greece, had been there a couple of months when it happened, well, according to the porter who took me for my X-ray … That’s what he said to the radiographer anyway.’

‘I believe so.’

‘So why are you going to his memorial service if you never met?’

Steele said nothing, just gave Macey a small nod and walked off.

He sat at the desk and tried to write notes, but he ached. He actually ached sitting there.

He missed Candy, more than he had ever missed anyone.

He’d never missed anybody really, apart from his grandmother when she’d died.

It felt like grief. It really did.

It was grief because he missed her. He even missed the bump of her twins, or was he just imagining that?

He pulled up his emails and looked at the image of Gerry and it wasn’t jealousy he was feeling. Steele understood that now.

It was guilt.

Guilt because this young man had died. Guilt that he might be swooping in and raising his babies because he couldn’t have any of his own.

Steele let out a breath and then jumped slightly as a voice startled him.

‘I’m here to see Macey Anderson …’ Steele glanced up and saw a good-looking middle-aged man wearing a suit and tie and carrying a huge bunch of flowers.

He was nervous, he was anxious and he was hers, Steele knew.

‘I’ll take you over.’ He stood and as they walked to the bed he would never forget the small cry of recognition that escaped Macey as she looked down the ward and for the first time saw her son.

He ran to her.

Those last two steps he actually ran and Steele pulled the curtains around them as Macey held her fifty-five-year-old baby for the very first time.

Some things were private but Steele knew he’d just witnessed love.

Steele checked in on Macey a couple of hours later. She had gone to bed for a lie down, but he found her sitting up, smiling, with a huge bunch of flowers beside her bed and a photo album that her son had brought for her.

‘I’m a grandmother,’ she said, showing Steele a photo. ‘And in two weeks I’ll be a great-grandmother. He was a bit worried about telling me that.’ Macey gave a delighted smile. ‘His daughter, Samantha, is only eighteen. They’re coming to visit me when I’m home.’

‘You’re going to be busy, Macey,’ Steele said.

‘I shall be. I’d say I’m going to have to hang around for a while yet.’ She looked at him. ‘Do you know, I always worried what sort of home he’d gone to, more than I worried about what he thought of me. He was raised beautifully. They loved him from the moment they got him and still do … It’s a huge weight off my mind.’

‘I’m very glad,’ he said, and then he moved to go because she was cutting a bit close to the bone.

‘I wondered if they’d love him as their own,’ Macey said. ‘I wondered if he’d resent them if he found out he wasn’t biologically theirs, but they were just so open about it …’

‘I’m very pleased to hear that,’ Steele responded. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’

As he went to do that Macey’s words stopped him.

‘So she’s in Hawaii…’

‘Sorry?’ he said, and turned.

Macey gave him an odd look. ‘Are we going to pretend that you don’t know who I’m talking about?’

‘I don’t,’ Steele said.

‘Do you think you stop being a matron? I used to know everything that went on in my department. Do you really think I just lie here?’

Steele had never had anyone meddle in his love life, or lack of a love life, and he wasn’t going to start now. ‘I have to go, Macey.’

‘You just interrupted me, Doctor. Why is she in Hawaii and you’re here?’

‘I don’t discuss my private life …’

‘But you’re fine with me discussing mine?’

‘You’re my job,’ Steele said to her, but she just smiled at him.

‘And you’re hard work!’ she said. ‘You’re certainly not so chipper these days.’

‘I apologise,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t bring my problems to work with me.’

‘How are you, Steele?’ she said. ‘And that’s Matron asking.’

Steele remembered Candy sitting here, crying, on this very bed. It had been Macey who had told them both that Candy was pregnant after all. He sat on the bed and this time he was there for himself rather than Macey and he told her how he felt.

‘Sad.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I miss her.’

‘You don’t have to miss her, though.’

‘She needs this break.’

‘Perhaps, but she’ll come back and you’ll be gone, living miles away, immersed in your new job. That’s not the start that you two need.’

‘She needs time to think.’

‘Of course she does,’ Macey said, ‘but you can have too much time and get yourself into a space that it’s very hard to get out of.’

She was right. Steele knew that. Of course, Candy’s parents would soon come round. From the little he knew about them, he knew that they loved their daughter. They would want to help. They would probably suggest that she move back in with them. He thought about trying to forge a relationship with her parents as gatekeepers.

They didn’t need to forge anything, Steele realised.

He didn’t need to question himself about his motives towards the pregnancy.

He loved her.

It was that easy.

Macey watched the smile that spread on his face and, yes, some things were private but she knew too that she’d just witnessed the realisation of love.

Steele sat through the long memorial service and heard what an amazing man St Gerry had been, but it didn’t hurt him now.

Indeed, he could laugh at a few of his antics.

By all accounts he had been a bit wild, a bit bold, and now, as the shock of his death started to recede, the real Gerry started to appear.

They all stood as his parents cut a ribbon for the new resuscitation ward and everybody headed up towards Admin for drinks and nibbles and more talk about Gerry, but Steele chose not to go there.

‘Steele!’ Hugh, a surgeon he had asked to consult on a patient, came over and shook his hand. ‘Have you met Rory?’

‘I have.’ He shook Rory’s hand.

‘And this is Gina. She’s also an anaesthetist here,’ Hugh introduced, but Steele couldn’t place her.

‘I used to be an anaesthetist here,’ Gina said.

‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ he said, and then watched Gina’s features tighten as a man made his way over.

‘This is Anton,’ Hugh said, and Steele shook Anton’s hand as Hugh introduced them. ‘Anton’s an obstetrician.’

‘Well,’ Steele said, ‘that would explain why we haven’t met. We don’t have much call for obstetricians on the geriatric unit.’

‘I’m also a reproductive specialist,’ Anton said. ‘Though I guess you don’t have much call up there for them either.’ He turned to Hugh. ‘Are you going up to Admin for drinks?’

‘No.’ Hugh shook his head. ‘I’ve got to get back to Theatre. Anyway, I’ve done my duty and put in an appearance but, frankly, he was an arrogant piece of work and I had more arguments with him than anyone else at the Royal.’

Anton watched as Steele gave a wry smile.

‘Well, I certainly don’t need to be around booze,’ Gina said. ‘I’m heading for home. I might see you around.’ She smiled at Steele. ‘I’ve got an interview next week.’

‘Good luck,’ Steele said.

Anton, he noticed, made no comment.

Gina walked off and there was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

‘How is she?’ Hugh asked Rory.

‘How would I know?’ Rory said. ‘We’re not really talking any more.’

The two men walked off, leaving just Steele and Anton.

‘Undercurrents?’ Steele checked, because around Gina things had seemed incredibly tense.

‘Hell, yes,’ Anton said, but didn’t elaborate. ‘I think I might give the drinks in Admin a miss too, although I could use a drink. Do you want to go over to Imelda’s?’ he offered. Imelda’s was a bar across from the hospital and Steele nodded.

‘Sure.’

‘Have you worked here long?’ Steele asked as they gave their orders a few minutes later.

‘Just over a year,’ Anton said. ‘You?’

‘I’m only here for a few more weeks. I move to Kent the week after next.’

‘My first intention was to be here for a couple of years and then return to Milan, but my wife works here and she’s pregnant. I can’t see me leaving here any time soon.’

‘You said that you worked in fertility?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Is it hard to do both?’ Steele asked.

‘I set firm boundaries,’ Anton explained. ‘I first did obstetrics then moved into fertility. I missed it, though, and so when I moved to England I changed back to obstetrics. I still keep my hand in when I can. I would love somehow to do both but they are both very consuming.’

‘There are a lot of changes, I guess?’ Steele could not believe he was pushing this conversation.

Anton could. ‘There are constant changes.’

‘What about for men?’ Steele asked. ‘I mean, you hear all the advancements for women …’ He could not believe he was discussing this. He actually wanted to stop because if there wasn’t hope then perhaps it would be better not to know.

‘Things are different for men also. There is a procedure called ICSE now. Basically, if you can get one healthy sperm an egg can be fertilised. Even if the sperm count comes back as negative, you can go into the vas deferens …’

Steele pulled a face at the thought of a needle in his balls.

‘Under local.’ Anton smiled.

He’d do it.

And there was the difference, Steele realised. He’d had a lot of loves in his life but never till now ‘the one’.

One that meant two hours after taking his first sip of a very welcome Scotch and a whole lot of talking with Anton, he was standing in a room, pants around his ankles, filling a specimen jar.

‘That was quick,’ Anton teased as Steele came into his office and he took the jar. ‘You might want to work on that.’ Then he was serious as he prepared the sample. ‘You know that if I find nothing in the specimen I can still go into the vas deferens. I might want to do that sober, though.’

‘Just tell me.’