Читать книгу The Big Move - Caroline Anderson - Страница 4

HE SAT down again a while later, but not for long, pacing restlessly, ramming his hand through his hair again and again until she thought he’d tear it out.

And then the doors swung open and Lucy and Jack came down the short corridor towards them.

‘How is he?’ Lucy asked, looking at Kate, avoiding Nick’s eyes as if she wasn’t sure how to do this.

None of them, in truth, knew how to do this. They’d just have to feel their way through.

‘Still in there. They stopped the bleeding, they’re just plating his pelvis. He’s been lucky, apparently—’

She broke off, wondering how on earth what had happened to her son could in any way be considered lucky, but then she felt Nick move closer, his hand on her shoulder, warm and reassuring despite their earlier words. Unable to resist the pull of that warmth, she dropped her head against his side, listening to the steady thud of his heart, and above it, the tension coming off them in waves, she could hear their quiet, fraught conversation.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Nick said, and she saw Lucy tense.

‘I had to, Ben asked me to give you back your car keys. It’s in the staff car park.’ She dropped them in his hand, then shook her head. ‘I’m not here for you, anyway, I’m here for a little boy who’s apparently my brother. I don’t know what to say to you. All that fuss when Mum died, but all the time you’d been carrying on behind her back—’

‘Lucy, it wasn’t like that. It was just once, right after the storm. Kate was distraught, I was distraught. It just—’

‘Happened?’ she said, her voice a little hard, unlike her usual self, but then she would be, Kate thought. None of them were themselves.

Nick let Kate go and moved away a fraction, and she lifted her head and looked up at Jack and Lucy.

‘It wasn’t just his fault. It takes two, remember. I was as much to blame. And just as married, really. James had only just died. There was no decent interval, believe me. It was inexcusable, but it never happened again.’

‘Not with you, maybe, but were there others?’

Jack’s question made Nick suck in a sharp breath.

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘There were no others. Apart from that one occasion when we were both beside ourselves with grief and I didn’t really know what I was doing, I was never unfaithful to your mother. I loved her.’

Jack snorted. ‘Strange way of showing it.’

‘Jack, leave it,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s irrelevant to this. But what I can’t understand,’ she went on after a slight pause, ‘is why you’ve never told us he’s our brother—why you’ve kept it a secret for, what, eleven years or more?’

‘Two. I didn’t know about Jem until two years ago,’ Nick said, and their eyes swivelled to Kate.

‘So, did you know?’ Lucy asked incredulously. ‘Before then, did you know? I mean, you are sure about this? That James wasn’t his father? Have you had a DNA test?’

‘James isn’t his father. You’ve only got to look at him, Lucy. Look at his eyes. Look at his mouth. He was just like Jack’s little Freddie when he was three or four, just like Jack and Edward at his age now. And, anyway, James and I had been having fertility investigations. We were talking about adoption. Why would I need a DNA test? Besides,’ she added, ‘if I needed any other proof, I have it now. James was A-positive.’

Lucy sat down hard, her eyes accusing and filled with tears. ‘So—for eleven and a half years you’ve been convinced he was Dad’s child, and you didn’t tell him until two years ago?’

Kate reached out a hand, but Lucy snatched hers away, and she gave a fractured sigh and dropped her hand back in her lap. ‘How could I? He was happily married, he had three other children—who was I to throw all that into chaos?’

Jack gave a short, hard laugh. ‘The mother of his child?’

She met his accusing eyes. ‘Exactly. I wasn’t Nick’s lover, I wasn’t his wife—I was the mother of a child. And I did what I could to protect my child, and you, his other children, and his marriage. There was no point in upsetting all of that. Two wrongs don’t make a right. And we’ve been fine. Jem’s had a good life, settled, and I’ve given him all the love he could ever need.’ Her voice cracked. ‘And now he could be dying…’

She felt Nick sit down beside her again and slide his arm around her, there for her, giving her his strength and support—at least for now. ‘It’s OK,’ he said softly, turning her head into his shoulder and cradling it gently. ‘Don’t cry, Kate. He’ll be all right. It’s going to be OK.’

Was it? She hoped so, but she couldn’t for the life of her think how she’d cope if it wasn’t.

She felt Lucy sit beside her, felt the gentle touch of her hand. ‘Kate, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just—It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all. And I’m so worried about him.’

‘I know,’ she whispered, patting Lucy’s hand reassuringly. She loved Nick’s daughter, she’d delivered her babies—she hated it that Lucy thought less of her now because of this, but it was only what she deserved. She’d given Lucy’s father the means to commit adultery, and it was every bit as much her fault as his.

But for now her guilt was directed towards her son, lying there on the operating table, his life hanging in the balance, hoping that when they opened him up they didn’t find anything unexpected.

She concentrated her mind on him, focused all her thoughts, willing him to pull through, to make it, to be all right. And then the door opened, and her heart stopped in her chest, eyes locked on the surgeon as he approached.

Nick got slowly to his feet, and Kate held her breath, unable to move until she knew he was all right, but he was, she could see that from the surgeon’s smile as he pulled off his mask, and with a leap her heart started to beat again, the slow, dull thud threatening to deafen her.

He acknowledged Jack with a nod, then crossed to her, his hand extended.

‘Mrs Althorp—I’m Martin Bradley. I’ve just finished operating on your son.’

She shook his hand on autopilot. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s OK.’ He perched on the chair beside her, taking Nick’s place. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time to talk to you before we started, but I was already scrubbing in and I’m sure Ben Carter will have explained what we were going to do. Under the circumstances I didn’t want to make him wait. Anyway, he’s fine, he’s come through the operation well, we’ve managed to fix the fractures and I think he’ll get a very good result. He’s broken the two bones at the front of his pelvis on the left, hence all the bleeding, but the pubic symphysis, the cartilage joint between the two halves at the front, wasn’t disrupted so he’ll be back on his feet quite quickly. We’ve sorted out the vascular damage, plated the fractures, and in fact it’s all come together very neatly. It shouldn’t give him any problems once it’s healed in a few weeks.’

‘So—he’ll be all right? He hasn’t got any nerve damage?’

‘Not that we know of. His left sacroiliac joint might be sore for a while, but it wasn’t displaced and I’m confident he should make a complete recovery. We’ll know more later, but it’s looking good at the moment. We’re running whole cross-matched blood into him now, and we salvaged the free blood in his abdomen—that’s gone off to the lab to be cleaned up so it can be returned to him if necessary, and then we’ll do some tests and balance the blood components over the next twenty-four hours, but that’s all pretty routine stuff. Any questions?’

‘No. I just want to see him.’

‘That’s fine. If you think of anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll be around for the next couple of hours, just in case there are any problems. Jem’s in Recovery now, so you can come and talk to him. He’s very drowsy, but he’s come round and he’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

Kate nodded, her body suddenly turning to jelly, and she was glad she was sitting down. Nick helped her up, his arm around her as they went through into Recovery, and it tightened as she stood by Jem’s side, sucking in her breath at her first sight of him.

He was linked up to a mass of tubes and wires and drips, a monitor blinking on the wall behind him, and his poor bruised little face was so chalk-white against the pillow he almost disappeared on it.

She took his hand in hers, wondering at how small and fragile he looked—somehow so much more vulnerable, with his eyes shut and all the tubes and wires. Where was her lively, vibrant boy, his gangly limbs and eager enthusiasm carrying him through life at a hundred miles an hour? Where had he gone? She stroked his hair back from his bruised forehead with a shaking hand and bent to kiss it.

‘Jem? It’s Mum. I’m here, my darling, right next to you. You’re going to be all right. You sleep now, OK?’

There was a small sound that could have been acknowledgement, and his fingers flickered in her hand. She squeezed them back, and he seemed to sigh and go off to sleep again, and she felt her legs start to buckle with relief.

But Nick was there, holding her up, giving her moral and physical support. She didn’t want to rely on him, but there was something about him, like a rock, an anchor in a world that had gone mad, and she leant against him and let him hold her. Just for now, just while she stared at her son and let herself believe he might live.

‘You won’t get much out of him,’ Martin Bradley murmured. ‘He’s heavily sedated, and we’ve given him some pretty hefty pain relief, but he should be more comfortable now his pelvis is stable.’

‘So what happens now?’ Nick asked, staring down at the injured child who looked so fragile amidst the plethora of tubes and wires and technology, and he shrugged.

‘He’ll stay here for a while—an hour or two? Just until we’re quite happy that he’s stable and we don’t have to take him back into Theatre. Then he’ll be in PICU—Paediatric Intensive Care—for the night. He doesn’t really need to be there, but they’ve got the bed available and they’ll be able to monitor him more closely overnight while we balance his bloods, so we might as well take advantage of it. He’ll probably move to the ward tomorrow, and then he’ll be there for a couple of weeks, I expect, while we get him up on his feet again, and then it’s just a case of getting slowly stronger. We’ll have to see. The plates and screws will have to come out at some point, as he’s still got a lot of growing to do, but we’ll worry about that in a few weeks or months. Anyway, I’ll be around, so we’ll talk again tomorrow if I don’t see you later. And try not to worry. He’s going to be all right, you just have to give it time.’

Kate wanted to smile, but her muscles didn’t seem to work. She realised she was still leaning on Nick, and she straightened up, moving away a fraction, distancing herself. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and held out her hand. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

He shook it firmly. ‘My pleasure. I’m glad to see you’ve got someone with you—the whole Tremayne clan, no less, including Lucy. I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you well?’

‘Yes, very,’ she said with a smile, but Kate could see it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Busy. I’ve got two children now.’

‘Yes, so Ben tells me. Well, it’s good to see you again, and it’s nice that Kate’s got so many friends around her supporting her.’

Nobody contradicted him, and he left them alone, nothing to break the silence but the soft beeps and hisses from the instruments, and the distant ringing of a telephone in another room.

Lucy broke the silence first.

‘Um—I ought to go. I’ve left Ben with the children, and Annabel’s had a cold, so she’s a bit fractious, and Josh is teething, but keep in touch.’

‘Yes, make sure you do that,’ Jack agreed. ‘I should go, too, I haven’t seen the kids at all today, and I’ve only seen Alison under the edge of the duvet, so I’d better go home before they can’t remember who I am. I’ll come up tomorrow and see Jem, but if there’s any change in the meantime, Kate, give us a ring, OK? Or if there’s anything we can do?’

‘Of course I will,’ she promised, and they walked out, shoulder to shoulder, Jack putting his hand against Lucy’s back to escort her through the door. And then it swung shut behind them and Nick let go of some of the tension that had held him for the last few hours and looked down at Kate with a fleeting smile.

‘I told you he’d be OK.’

She dredged up a smile. ‘Of course you did. I just didn’t dare believe you.’

‘Do you believe me now?’

‘I might be starting to,’ she admitted, and looked back down at Jem, her face drawn and fraught. ‘You don’t have to stay, Nick.’

Was she mad? ‘Of course I’m staying. You can’t believe I’d leave you alone now.’

‘Why not? You heard the surgeon, he’s out of danger. You don’t need to be here, you’ve got to work tomorrow.’

‘No. I’m not leaving you, Kate. I’m here for you, for both of you, for as long as you need me.’

She met his eyes, and they seemed sincere, but she’d thought that thirty-something years ago, and he’d left her. Left her and married Annabel when she’d become pregnant with the twins. ‘I can’t lean on you, Nick. I won’t let myself. Every time I do, every time I think I dare, you let me down.’

‘I won’t let you down. I promise you, Kate, I won’t walk away from this.’

She stared at him, at the serious expression on his face, the conviction in his eyes, in his voice. Dare she trust him? ‘You always walk away,’ she said at last.

‘I didn’t the night James died.’

She gave a soft huff of laughter and shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t, did you? Maybe it would have been better if you had.’ But then she wouldn’t have had Jem, and her life would have been empty and pointless. And she needed him now.

‘I know I’ve let you down,’ he said softly. ‘I know I’ve let Jem down. But I’m here now, and I’ll stay here for as long as you need me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Just give me a chance.’

She shrugged and looked away. ‘I can’t stop you. But I can’t lean on you, either. I have to do this on my own.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he said, trying to inject something into his voice that she could believe in. ‘And I’ll prove that to you.’ Even if it took years. A lifetime.

Her shoulders were drooping, and his heart went out to her. Poor Kate. She was exhausted, he thought, exhausted and shocked and traumatised, and it was late. ‘You ought to eat,’ he coaxed gently. ‘Keep your strength up.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t eat. Not when he’s like this. Maybe later. I could murder a drink, though. I wonder when they’ll move him to PICU?’

‘An hour or so? Shall I go and get you something? Tea, coffee?’

‘Tea would be lovely. Do you mind? I really don’t want to leave him.’

‘On one condition—you sit down beside him and rest, and you eat something if I bring it back.’

‘You’re a bully, do you know that?’ she said, but she was smiling, an exhausted, rather watery smile that in a heartbeat could have morphed into tears, and she sat obediently in the chair he put there for her.

‘I’m looking after you is what I am,’ he said, and headed for the door. ‘Any special requests?’

‘Tea. And a sandwich, if I must, but no cheese. I’m going to have nightmares as it is.’

‘OK. Back in five.’

He went through the door and down the stairs, pausing halfway because he felt suddenly light-headed. Damn. That was giving two units of blood, not drinking anything like enough to replace the lost fluid or taking in any food—apart from Jack’s biscuits, he’d had half a cup of tea, a cup of water and whatever he’d had in A and E in the relatives’ room, and that was all since his miserable half-sandwich and instant coffee at lunchtime. And it was—good grief—a quarter past midnight.

And the café, when he got there, was shut, with a sign directing him to the main canteen some distance away.

There was a vending machine, and he pulled some coins out of his pocket with fingers that were starting to shake violently, and put them into the machine, pressed the button for a bottle of sports drink to boost his fluids and blood sugar, and twisted the cap to loosen it. And it sprayed him.

He swore, twisting it shut again, and suddenly it was all too much. He dropped his head forwards against the vending machine and resisted the urge to slam it into the gaudy metal case. Head-banging wouldn’t cure anything.

‘Is it broken again?’

The voice was soft and feminine, and he lifted his head and stared vaguely at the woman.

‘Um—no. Sorry. Did you want the machine?’

‘No, it’s OK.’ She tilted her head on one side, looking at him keenly. ‘Are you all right?’

He opened his mouth to say yes, and then stopped. The woman was slender and delicate, but curvy in all the right places. She was probably younger than Lucy, her dark hair twisted up into a clip, and there was compassion and understanding in her emerald-green eyes.

‘A friend’s little boy’s just been admitted,’ he said, gagging on the half-truth. ‘They had a car accident. His pelvis is fractured. I was getting us something to eat, but…’

She frowned. ‘I’m so sorry. Has he been to Theatre?’

‘Yes—yes, he’s had an op to plate it, and he’s OK, he’s in Recovery at the moment and then he’s going to PICU, but he shares my blood group, and it’s B-negative, and stocks were very low, so they took two units from me, and…’

‘And you haven’t eaten or drunk anything because you’ve been too stressed, and the café’s shut, and now the bottle’s got its own back on you.’

He smiled. ‘Something like that.’ He held out his hand, then looked at it ruefully and smiled again as he withdrew it. ‘Sorry—it’s a bit sticky. I’m Nick Tremayne.’

She flashed him an answering smile. ‘Jack’s father—of course. You look just like him. I’m Megan Phillips. I’m a paediatrician, so I’ll be looking after your friend’s son. What’s his name?’

‘Jeremiah Althorp. Jem.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out for him.’

‘Thanks.’ He tried to unscrew the drink again, but his fingers were shaking so much now he fumbled the lid and it fell to the floor. She picked it up and handed it back to him.

‘Come on, you need to sit down. Let me go and get you something to eat.’

‘No, I couldn’t.’

‘Well, I’d rather you did, otherwise I’ll have to pick you off the floor on the way to the canteen. I’m going to buy myself some sandwiches. Why don’t I get you some? I can bring them up to you, I’m going that way.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’

‘You didn’t ask, I offered.’ Her smile was gentle. ‘Chicken salad? Ham and cheese? Tuna? There isn’t a fabulous choice, I’m afraid.’

‘Anything. One without cheese for Kate, and I don’t care what I have, whatever’s going. And two teas, if you’ve got enough hands. You’re a star. Here, take some money.’ He pulled a twenty-pound note out of his wallet and handed it to her.

She took the note out of his hands and smiled. ‘I’ll come up in a minute. Drink some of that before you go back up there, and I’ll come and find you.’

He took her advice, downing half the cloyingly sweet drink, and after a moment he began to feel better. Less shaky and light-headed. He made his way slowly back upstairs, and when he pressed the buzzer a young woman let him back in, waving goodbye to Kate as she left the room.

‘Oh—were they shut?’ Kate asked, eyeing his all but empty hands in surprise.

‘Yes. I was going to the main canteen, but I met someone. A paediatrician, of all things. She’s gone to get something for us. She said she was heading that way anyway, so I gave her a twenty-pound note. At least I hope she was a paediatrician.’

Kate chuckled softly. ‘Nick, you’re so cynical.’

He gave a weary smile and offered her the bottle.

‘Do you want some of this? I saved you some.’

Kate eyed him thoughtfully. ‘No, I loathe it, thanks, you have it. What was her name?’

‘Megan Phillips. Who was that, by the way, who let me in?’

‘Jess Carmichael. She’s a counsellor. She heard I was here and she’s been working late so she popped in. I saw her for a while after my lumpectomy. She was lovely. Really kind to me. She gave me a lot of support when I needed it the most.’

He felt a little stab of pain to accompany the familiar guilt. ‘I’m glad.’

Kate met his eyes, her own holding that particular brand of gentle reproach that she reserved for him. ‘I could have done with your support then, too, Nick.’

He looked away, swamped with regret, but what could he have done? ‘You had Rob,’ he reminded her.

‘That didn’t exclude you.’

Oh, it did. ‘I didn’t want to get in the way,’ he said. ‘He seemed genuinely decent, very fond of you—I thought you might stand a chance of happiness, a future for you and Jeremiah with a man you loved. A man who could love you back. I didn’t want to get in the way of that.’

‘You wouldn’t have done,’ she reasoned, remembering how it had felt when he’d kept his distance—Nick, the only man she’d ever really loved, keeping her at arm’s length when all she’d really wanted was for him to hold her and tell her it would be all right. Tell her that if it wouldn’t, he’d be there for their son. ‘You wouldn’t have been in the way,’ she told him, realising, even as she said it, that of course he would have been.