Читать книгу Pieces of You. - Ella Harper - Страница 11

‘The food was amazing, really.’ Luke took my hand across the table. ‘I loved the Eton mess. Loved it.’

‘Are you sure?’

I wanted to believe him, but I actually thought I’d burnt the meringues. Luke had (very sweetly) asked for seconds, but that was only because he had impeccable manners. Only an utter gentleman would have made such a furore over a couple of soggy bruschetta and a plate of over-cooked herby lamb.

I sighed. I had no idea why I had bothered to try and cook. Neither of us were drinking, as I couldn’t and because there was a chance Luke might have to go back to work. It might have helped wash down the terrible food I had cooked. I fervently hoped Luke didn’t have to go back. We needed this meal, this time together. It was our wedding anniversary and we’d both been so stressed about the pregnancy.

But, cooking aside, I had come up trumps on the gift front this time. I’d bought Luke an oak chopping board with ‘Antihero’ carved into the side which was a literary joke about his job. It had cost me an arm and a leg, not that I cared about that.

‘Aaah.’ Luke looked sheepish. ‘I don’t have your gift yet. I mean, I have a card and the gift will follow, if that makes sense.’

‘Oh. Okay. No problem.’

I admit it; I was taken-aback. For Luke not to produce a gift was unlike him, out of character.

As he opened his chopping board, I drew his card out of its envelope.

Darling Lucy

Another incredible year together. I’m proud to call you my girl every single day and I know we will soon be holding our baby and moaning about sleepless nights. I long to moan about sleepless nights! Your gift will be here soon, and it’s a good one, I promise!

Love always, Luke x

‘Awww.’ I was touched. It was a lovely message … the best.

‘I love this,’ Luke said, turning the chopping board over in his hands. ‘Antihero. Ha ha, brilliant!’

‘Better that you do all the cooking in future.’ I pulled a face at the burnt meringues and stood up to start clearing the plates.

‘Don’t be daft. Hey, sorry about the delay with the gift, but honestly, it will be worth the wait.’ His face was earnest. ‘You know I always get on board with the whole present thing. But this gift took a bit longer than I thought it would and I have one thing left to do to make it perfect.’

I shifted in my seat. I had vague backache but our chairs were notoriously uncomfortable.

‘You look amazing, you know that?’

‘Do I?’ I glanced down at my dress. I’d made an effort with a teal-coloured jersey concoction with capped sleeves and a deep V-neck that made the most of my new-found cleavage. It was a romantic dress for what I was determined would be a romantic night. The process of IVF was curiously neutral. Intimate in its own freakish way, but not between husband and wife. I wanted tonight to be about myself and Luke – about reconnecting – and most importantly, about remembering why we got together in the first place.

Luke turned in his chair and pulled me closer so I was standing between his legs. ‘That dress is lovely, but it’s not that. I haven’t wanted to say this to you before now, because of … well, you know. But pregnancy suits you. You look beautiful. Really beautiful. It takes my breath away just to look at you.’

I was lost for words. Completely lost. I felt Luke’s hand on my waist. He moved it across my stomach, across my swollen bump.

‘I’m so excited about our future,’ he said, his eyes clouding over with emotion. ‘This is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to us, I just know it.’

‘Me too.’

I felt such an intense rush of happiness, it threatened to blind me. This was going to be the making of us. This baby was everything we had ever wanted and I was going to do my very best to enjoy the final months of my pregnancy, to embrace this experience. I had wanted to so badly, but fear had held me back. I covered Luke’s hand with mine so we were holding my bump together.

Luke stood up, cupping my neck. He kissed me, a sweet, gentle kiss that became more urgent. I kissed him back, sliding my arms around his waist. I knew his back was super-sensitive, so I ran my hands across it, smiling as he flinched with pleasure. He groaned.

I smiled, bending to kiss him again. I liked making Luke groan.

‘No, it’s my phone,’ he said, reaching down and drawing it out of his pocket. ‘It must be work.’

‘Ignore it?’ I said hopefully, resting my forehead on his shoulder. Oh, the frustration.

‘I can’t. Shit.’ Luke checked the message. ‘I need to go in. Christ. Talk about bad timing. It’s only a four hour shift, but still. Sorry, Luce.’ He gave me a kiss, the kind that had a ring of promise. ‘Let’s reconvene later. Or in the morning. Shall we?’

I nodded. I could wait until then. Reluctantly, I let go of him, our fingers touching until the last second.

‘We are such saps; I love it.’ Luke headed out of the room, throwing a grin over his shoulder. ‘Laters, dude.’

I held up a hand in farewell, the other wrapped around my tummy.

Five hours later

My back felt tight and cramps spiralled through my groin. I slowly lowered myself on to the bed. I hadn’t imagined it. That burning sensation I had been feeling earlier down one side of my groin was becoming more acute, the pain thrumming through my body. To think that earlier, all I was worrying about was burnt meringues and leathery lamb. Now, my adrenalin was pumping like crazy and I could hear rushing in my ears.

Where was Luke? I had left him a message, just a brief one, calm and without a hint of panic, but I hadn’t heard back from him. The panic I had hidden was taking hold, gripping me round the throat. I needed to talk to someone, but it was Sunday; my midwife didn’t seem to be on call today. I’d left her a message, too, not bothering to hide my terror this time.

I took some deep breaths, trying to work out whether I could move. There wasn’t any blood; that had to be a good sign. The other times, there had always been blood. Blood before any proper cramps. I was tired, I had morning sickness from dawn until dusk and I was suffering from crippling migraines. But these were symptoms of a normal pregnancy; I had been assured of this.

Where the hell was Luke? His shift was a four hour one, I remembered him saying that. It had been five hours now and he still wasn’t back.

My entire body felt icy with fear. The fear gripped me like a hand around my throat, choking me, squeezing until I could barely breathe. I was trying my best to stay calm, not to think the worst. But the pain was increasing with every passing second. My gut was telling me that something was very wrong. I needed Luke. Luke was the only person who could ever support me in these situations. He was the only person who understood me, who knew how to pull me out of the pit of despair I was spiralling into. Or to catch me if the worst happened.

I gasped as another painful cramp consumed me. I scrabbled for my mobile again. I could call Dee. I needed to speak to someone, to be reassured. No, I needed to get to hospital. Although I knew that if something had started to go wrong, there wasn’t much that could stop it. I had been here before, so many times. But still, I needed to go. I just … didn’t want to move. I just wanted to hold off a tiny bit longer, cling to the dream for a few more seconds. As soon as I called someone, it would become real.

Another sharp cramp shocked me with its force and made me reach for my mobile. This wasn’t right; it didn’t feel right. As a strong cramp tore through me, I bent over and screamed.

Twelve hours later

‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’

I opened my eyes to find an unfamiliar face looming above mine. The eyes were full of sympathy and there was a hand holding my shoulder firmly. I was in a bed, but it wasn’t mine; it was hard and unyielding and there was a starchy sheet pulled up around me, the cotton crisp.

‘You were crying in your sleep,’ the woman said, patting me. ‘It’s totally understandable in the circumstances. I’ve just started my shift, so I’ll be here all night with you. Just call if you need me.’ She moved away quietly, tending to someone else in a bed nearby.

Crying in my sleep? I blinked. My eyelids felt heavy and sore. I was in a hard bed with stiff sheets and the woman – I checked out the unflattering uniform – was a nurse. I was in hospital. What was I doing here? Where was Luke? I shifted myself up, beginning to feel scared. I felt bruised, inside and out. I moved my hands tentatively until they were on my stomach. It wasn’t flat and it still felt firm-ish but I could tell it was … hollow. Empty.

I felt a sob rising in my throat. The memories came back in a rush: the pain, the frantic phone calls to the midwife, to Luke, and eventually, to Dee, who must’ve called the hospital. I gripped the sheet. Doctors, nurses, my clothes being removed, a gown being tied. My hand being held tightly by someone (Dee? A nurse?) and screaming for Luke. But he hadn’t come. And I had … God, I couldn’t even think about what I’d had to go through. Stillborn, they said. Just one of those dreadful, regrettable things, they said, stroking my sticky hair from my face.

My beautiful, four-month-old baby … the baby we had longed for, was gone forever. They said it was a girl. This, I had taken in. A girl. A girl who should have had stars on her ceiling and a pretty, lilac bedroom.

I put my hands on my face and started sobbing, chest heaving, shoulders shaking.

‘Oh, darling.’ Dee appeared carrying two paper cups with lids. Her blonde hair was in disarray and she was wearing a pair of Hello Kitty pyjama trousers and a massive grey Transformers T-shirt that must have belonged to Dan. ‘I’m so desperately sorry.’

I started to cry again, hating myself for being such a girl. But it mattered, it mattered so much. The pain was unbearable. Not the physical pain, the other kind.

Dee put down the coffee. ‘I guessed your news at the barbecue when you didn’t drink Dan’s sangria.’ She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘I don’t even know what to say to you because it’s so bloody cruel. I’m so fucking angry that this has happened to you again.’

‘Where’s Luke?’ My voice sounded croaky.

Dee shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been so worried about you, I left it to Dan. He’s been calling and calling, but he can’t track him down.’

‘Did you check my phone?’

Dee bit her lip. ‘No. Sorry, Lucy; I didn’t even think … it’s all been so dramatic …’

‘It’s okay. I’ll have a look. Where is it Nurse?’

The nurse turned back to us. She picked up my notes and then her expression changed. ‘Lucy Harte? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. You’re Luke Harte’s wife.’

‘Yes.’ I sat up. ‘Has something happened?’

Dee stood up, her eyes darting around. ‘What’s going on? Please tell us.’

The nurse hung the notes back on the bed, her mouth tight. ‘I’m going to get someone to come and see you. Wait here please, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

I turned to Dee urgently. ‘My phone …’

She rummaged in the bedside cabinet and found it. ‘Here. Jesus, there are tons of missed messages. Are they from him?’

‘No. Oh my God. I can’t … Dee.’ I listened to one of the messages. ‘They’re from Joe, Luke’s partner. Christ, he’s been in an accident – a serious one …’ I put a hand to my mouth. ‘We have to find him, now. Dee, help me … please.’ I flipped back the sheet and swung my legs over the side of the bed, trembling as my feet hit the cold floor.

Dee stood paralysed. ‘Shouldn’t we just wait? Oh fuck it, we’re doing this. I brought you some clothes …’

‘No time. I want to find Luke.’ I was petrified. What had happened to Luke?

‘I get that, but … hang on.’ Dee tore off her T-shirt, revealing a pink vest top. ‘Put this on. And these.’ She grabbed a pair of my flip flops from the side cabinet and threw them down by my feet. Grimly determined in spite of my fear, I led the way and we took a lift, two sets of stairs and meandered down several corridors. Dee kept trying to thrust me into empty wheelchairs that were lying around, but I refused, pausing only once to ask someone the way. The slap, slap, slap of my flip flops on the scrubbed hospital floor was driving me nuts, the sound incongruous against the relative hush of the corridors.

We were given directions to Luke’s room and my heart threatened to leap out of my chest. I felt Dee reaching for my hand and I curled my fingers around hers.

We went in together, almost bumping into a youngish doctor – or was he a consultant? He had some notes in his hand and he was talking to a nurse. They were in the way of the bed and I couldn’t see Luke.

‘Mrs Harte? I was just about to come and find you. I’m Dr Wallis, Luke’s consultant.’ He seemed surprised to see me, but he was calm and pleasant.

I squeezed Dee’s fingers. My terror was barely contained; it simmered just below the surface. I could feel the blood pumping round my body, was suddenly aware of its ebb and flow.

Dr Wallis turned to me. ‘This will probably be shocking for you, but I’m going to talk you through what happened to Luke tonight, okay?’

I think I nodded.

I stared past him, trying to catch sight of Luke. When I did, I felt as though I’d been knocked sideways. He didn’t look like himself at all. His lovely face was caked with dark, dried blood, especially round his mouth. Someone had tried to clean him up but there had obviously been more important things to tend to.

‘Luke was brought into A&E some hours ago,’ Dr Wallis was saying. ‘He was assessed by the trauma team and he was immediately referred to the general surgery team. The most life-threatening condition that needed to be dealt with was Luke’s ruptured spleen.’

A ruptured spleen. I searched my memory, trying to recall Luke’s study notes, the ones he used to recite aloud before exams. A ruptured spleen was dangerous but it might heal on its own or it could be removed.

I glanced at Luke again. His body was still, bizarrely so. Luke was never still; he was constantly talking, laughing, goofing around. He had bandages binding almost every limb, halting him, keeping him inert. He looked completely broken. Broken; as though he was made out of china, not from bones and organs and skin. What the hell had happened to him?

The specialist’s voice swam into my consciousness. As well as the ruptured spleen, Luke had several broken bones, including ribs, both legs and collarbone. Damage to the spine, full extent of damage not yet known. A head injury resulting from a shaft of metal from the front grill of the lorry sticking out of Luke’s head like a chocolate flake in an ice cream cone. Surgery to remove the metal.

‘Luke also had a cardiac arrest when he was brought into A&E,’ Dr Wallis said gently. ‘We think this was as a result of hypovolemic shock, brought on by his ruptured spleen. Spleens bleed like you wouldn’t believe,’ he added, ‘which in turn means there is a high risk of this kind of heart attack.’

‘This kind of heart attack?’ Dee asked, looking dazed. ‘Is there more than one kind?’

Dr Wallis smiled at her. ‘Yes. But I won’t bore you with the details of the other kind. The only other thing I must add, Mrs Harte, is that we are monitoring Luke closely as he is at high risk of developing a blood clot. We call it an embolus,’ he said, I think for Dee’s benefit. ‘Luke has undergone extensive surgery and now that he is immobile and in a comatose state, this is something that can be a concern.’

Really? A possible ‘embolus’ was cause for concern? Jesus. My brain couldn’t compute any of this. I flinched inwardly from the onslaught of information; I had to break it down. Broken bones could be mended – or operated on, worst case. The spleen had been dealt with. Comas were beyond my comprehension though, not something I could drag from my memory bank.

I walked slowly to the bed. Luke was hooked up to lots of machines. They were beeping intermittently, overlapping one another with shrill monotony.

I reached out a hand. It was shaking horribly. I wanted to touch him. Would he feel cold to touch? No, how silly. His chest was rising and falling rhythmically, accompanied by artificial sucking and blowing noises, which would have sounded comical, except that they were anything but. I took Luke’s hand. It was warm. Warm, but motionless. I gripped his hand, willing him to respond. His face remained immobile, his eyelids not even fluttering at the touch. He wasn’t Luke.

Dr Wallis was still talking. ‘The next few days will be critical. How Luke responds to his injuries early on will be a key indication of his overall recovery, but there is much for him to get through. If he stays in the coma for a few days or more, we’ll probably run a CT scan. This rules out bleeds or infarcts.’ His expression, when my utter bewilderment gave away how little I was following, was apologetic. ‘As traumatic as this is for you to see, Luke’s coma is probably helping him right now.’

I nodded. That I remembered. The coma was protecting Luke from the pain – it was the body’s way of shutting down and coping. The specialist murmured a few more words to Dee, then left. The nurse stayed. Protocol in ICU; I knew that.

‘He’s going to be all right,’ Dee said, putting her hand on mine. Her voice sounded artificially bright and I knew without turning round that she was crying. ‘He’s going to pull through and when he does, he’s going to tell us to stop being so silly and emotional.’

‘He … he doesn’t know about the baby, Dee.’ My chin quivered. ‘Should I tell him about the baby? What do I …? I don’t know what to do.’

‘Oh, darling.’ Dee bent down and curled her arms around my neck.

I felt her rest her face against my hair, her cheeks wet. I swallowed, twice. I could feel something rising up inside me and I knew that, when it took hold, it was going to overwhelm me. I willed Luke to wake up and make my world right again. He didn’t and it wasn’t.

My heart clenched. I had lost our baby. I had lost our baby and my best friend, the one person I needed to talk to about it, was lying in a coma. I needed Luke’s arms around me. I needed him to tell me it was all going to be all right, even though I knew it wasn’t. I just wanted to hear his voice.

When Joe – Luke’s paramedic partner – urgently dashed in and started telling me what had happened, I found myself unable to be brave any longer. Hearing Joe’s earnest, apologetic account of the ghastly details, I broke down and sobbed.