Читать книгу Medical Romance January 2017 Books 1 -6 - Marion Lennox - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

Six weeks later...

TODAY HAD BEEN an exhausting shift in the emergency department of her London hospital. The hospital was on the fringe of a poor socio-economic district, where unemployment was rife and where the young didn’t have enough to do. The combination was a recipe for disaster and the disasters often ended up in Tasha’s care.

She’d had two stabbings this shift. She was emotionally wiped—but, then, she thought as she changed to go home, she wanted to be emotionally wiped. She wanted to go home exhausted enough to sleep.

She’d hardly slept for weeks. Why?

Was it because the emails had stopped?

It was her own fault, she thought. She hadn’t made it clear she was grateful, because a part of her wasn’t. Tom’s emails were a jagged reminder of past pain. She didn’t want to remember—but neither did she want to forget.

And now Tom had obviously decided it was time to move on. She should be over it.

Could she ever be over it? She stared at her reflection in the change-room mirror and let her thoughts take her where they willed. How to move on?

Part of her ached for another baby, but did she have the courage?

‘Tasha? You have visitors.’ Ellen, the nurse administrator, put her nose around the door. ‘Two ladies are here to see you. They arrived two hours ago. They wouldn’t let me disturb you but said as soon as you finished your shift could I let you know. I’ve popped them into the counselling room with tea and biccies. They seem nice.’

‘Nice?’

Emergency departments saw many tragedies. Often family members came in, days, weeks, sometimes months after the event to talk through what had happened. Ellen usually pre-empted contact by finding the patient file and giving her time to read it. It helped. For doctors like Tasha, after weeks or months individual deaths could become blurred.

But Ellen wasn’t carrying a file and she’d described them as nice, nothing more.

‘It’s personal,’ Ellen said, seeing her confusion. ‘They say it’s nothing to do with a patient. They’re Australian. Hilda and Rhonda. Middle-aged. One’s knitting, the other’s doing crochet.’

Hilda and Rhonda.

She stilled, thinking of the only two Australians she knew who were called Hilda and Rhonda.

‘Shall I tell them you can’t see them?’ Ellen asked, watching her face. ‘I’m sure they’ll understand. They seem almost nervous about disturbing you. One word from me and I suspect they’ll scuttle.’

Did she want them to...scuttle?

No. Of course she didn’t.

For some reason her heart was doing some sort of stupid lurch. Surely something wasn’t wrong? With Tom?

It couldn’t be, she thought. He’d be safe home in Cray Point with his latest lady. Who? He’d mentioned his women in his emails. Alice? No, Alice had been a good twelve months ago. There’d been Kylie and Samantha and Susie since then.

The Blake brothers were incorrigible, she thought, and she even managed a sort of smile as she headed off to see what Rhonda and Hilda had in store for her.

But they weren’t here to tell her about Tom’s latest lady.

* * *

‘A subarachnoid haemorrhage?’ She stared at the two women in front of her and she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Tom’s had a subarachnoid haemorrhage?’

The women had greeted her with disbelief at first—‘You look so different!’

‘I’m wearing scrubs,’ she’d told them, but they’d shaken their heads in unison.

‘You look prettier. Younger. Though that time would have made anyone look old.’ They’d hugged her, but then they’d moved onto Tom.

These two women had formed a caring background during her time in Cray Point but now they seemed almost apologetic. Apologising for what they were telling her.

‘It was the surf,’ Rhonda said. ‘A minor accident, he said, just a cut needing a few stitches, but then his neck was stiff and he got a blinding headache. He collapsed, scaring the life out of us. We had to get the air ambulance and the doctors say he only just made it.’

‘But they say he’s going to be okay,’ Hilda broke in, speaking fast. Maybe she’d seen the colour drain from Tasha’s face. ‘Eventually. But it did some damage—the same as a minor stroke. Now he’s trying to pretend it’s business as normal but of course it’s not.’

‘What happened?’ Tasha asked, stunned.

‘It was the first of the winter storms,’ Hilda told her, sniffing at the idiocy of surfers in general and one surfer in particular. ‘The surf was huge and of course people were doing stupid things. They were surfing too close to the rocks for the conditions and he hit his head—a nasty, deep gash. Mary and Chris...did you meet them? They’re the medical couple who help out sometimes. They stitched his head and tried to persuade him he needed a scan but would he listen? And that night... Well, it was lucky I decided to stay on, though cleaning the pantry was an excuse. He’d put off having his latest woman for dinner so I thought he must be feeling really ill. And he was toying with his meal when all of a sudden he said “Hilda, my neck... My head...” And then he sort of slumped.’

‘There was no loss of consciousness but by the time the ambulance arrived he couldn’t move his left arm or leg,’ Rhonda told her. She took a deep breath and recited something she must have learned off by heart. ‘His scans showed a skull fracture and infarct in the right lentiform nucleus corona radiata.’

‘That’s in the brain,’ Hilda said helpfully, and Rhonda rolled her eyes. But then she got serious again.

‘Anyway, the air ambulance was there fast and got him to Melbourne. They operated within the hour and they’re saying long-term he should be fine. He spent two weeks in hospital, protesting every minute. Then they wanted him to go to rehab but he wouldn’t. He says he can do the exercises himself. So now he’s back in Cray Point, pretending it’s business as usual.’

‘But it’s not,’ Hilda told her. ‘He has left-sided weakness. He’s not allowed to drive. The doctors only let him come home on the condition he has physio every day but of course he says he’s too busy to do it. He should concentrate on rehab for at least two months but will he?’

‘He doesn’t have time,’ Hilda told her. ‘And I was dusting in his study and he’d requested a copy of the specialist’s letters and I just...happened to read them. Anyway the specialist’s saying there’s a risk of permanent residual damage if he doesn’t follow orders. But Mary and Chris have a new grandbaby in Queensland, their daughter’s ill and they had to go. There’s no other doctor to help.’

‘And of course it’s winter in Australia.’ Rhonda took over seamlessly. ‘No doctor will take on a locum job in Cray Point in winter. We know he advertised—we weren’t supposed to know that either but...’

‘Hilda saw it on his study desk?’ Tasha suggested, and Hilda flushed and then smiled.

‘Well, I did, dear. But of course no one answered, and the oldies in Cray Point are still getting ill and he knows how much they need him. He cares too much to let us look after ourselves. So he’s hobbling around, still working. The night before we left there was a car crash and out he went. It was filthy weather and he was crawling into the wreckage to stop bleeding...’

‘And then we had to leave.’ Up until now Rhonda had sounded resigned, full of the foolishness of men, but suddenly her voice wobbled. ‘You know we’re both English? We married brothers and moved to Cray Point thirty years ago but our parents stayed here. Last week our mam died and our dad’s in a mess so we had to drop everything and come. Including abandoning Tom. We’ll take our dad home with us but first there’s his house to be sorted, immigration, so much to do...’

‘But we’re worrying about Tom all the time,’ Hilda told her. ‘We know he’s not coping. It’ll be weeks before we can get back, and who’s to boss him around? He’ll push himself and push himself. We have one district nurse and no one else. Cray Point’s in real trouble. And then in the middle of last night Rhonda sat up in bed and said, “What about Tasha? She’s family.”’

The word seemed to echo around the counselling room.

Family.

‘I knew nothing about this,’ she said faintly, and Rhonda nodded.

‘Well, of course you wouldn’t. He doesn’t talk to anyone about it, and of course he worries about you. We all do. He’d never bother you. Tasha...dear, it seems really unfair to ask, but Hilda knew your address...’

‘From Tom’s desk?’ She couldn’t help herself but she won a couple of half-hearted smiles.

‘Well, yes, dear,’ Hilda agreed. ‘Though of course I didn’t go looking. I just happened to have seen it on a certificate he left out for me to post to you. So we knew you were living in a hospital apartment and I remembered which hospital. So we thought we’d just come and let you know...’

‘Because he needs someone,’ Rhonda told her. And then she paused and told it like it was. ‘He needs you.’

To say Tasha’s mind was in overdrive was an understatement. She’d just finished a frantic shift. Normally it took hours to debrief herself, to rid herself of the images of the various crises bursting through the ambulance doors, but suddenly all she could think of was Tom.

The sudden end to contact hadn’t been because he thought she should move on. It had been because he was in trouble himself.

‘W-what about Susie?’ she stammered. The thought of Tom needing her was such a switch that it had her unbalanced. ‘Can’t she help?’

And the two women snorted in unison.

‘One thing Dr Tom Blake can’t do and that’s choose a woman who’s any use,’ Rhonda declared. ‘She’s hardly been near him since his accident. And she’s not a doctor or even a nurse. How can she help? You’re a doctor, dear. That’s why we’re here.’

‘You want me to go?’ Even saying it sounded wrong.

But both women were trying to smile. Their smiles were nervous. Their smiles said they didn’t hold out much hope but they were like headlights, catching her and holding her. She couldn’t move.

‘Could you?’ Hilda sounded breathless.

‘Is it possible?’ Rhonda whispered.

She stood and stared at the two rotund little ladies. They stared back, their eyes full of hope. And doubt. And just a touch of guilt as well.

Tom...

He needed her.

She didn’t want to go.

Why not?

She could go. She knew she could. There’d been an intake of brand-new doctors only last week and there was crossover from the last lot. Her shift could be covered.

She could walk out of her barren little apartment within an hour.

But to go to Tom...

She didn’t want to go back to Australia. Australia was full of memories of her little girl, her little fighter who’d lived just seven days. How could she go back to the place of all that pain?

But there was more to this than grief, she acknowledged. Her reaction wasn’t all about not wanting to be where Emily had lived and died, and she had the courage to acknowledge it. She’d never avoided thinking about Emily and, to be fair, Tom had had a hand in that. He’d been with her all that time.

It was Tom who’d made sure she’d shared every precious moment of Emily’s tiny life. It was Tom who’d sat by her, fielding well-meaning professionals, admitting those who could help, firmly turning away those who couldn’t.

There had been so much support. There had been so much love.

For Tom had loved, too. ‘She’s my niece,’ he’d told her when she’d been so exhausted she’d had to sleep but the thought of closing her eyes on her little girl had been unbearable. ‘You sleep and I’ll hold her every single moment. And I promise I won’t sleep while you’ve entrusted her to me.’

He’d just...been there. She could hardly think of Emily without thinking of Tom.

And then, after Emily had died...

Being bundled back to Cray Point. A simple, beautiful ceremony on the headland because she couldn’t think where else was right. Then sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, while Tom picked up the threads of...being Tom.

Which included his women. Alice was there, vaguely resentful of Tasha’s presence. And then Alice was no longer around and Tasha knew it was partly because of her.

She’d said something to him—apologised—and Tom had grinned. ‘Don’t fuss yourself, lassie,’ he’d told her. ‘Alice knows I don’t take my love life seriously. The whole town knows it.’

So he was like Paul. That was the thought that was holding her rigid now.

He was lovely, kind, gentle, caring.

He went from woman to woman.

He’d just suffered a cerebral bleed from a surfing accident. He was yet another man who took crazy risks...

The Blake brothers spelled trouble. She didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but she owed him so much.

She thought of him now, the image that was burned into her mind. Waking up from sleep and finding him crooning down to her little daughter.

‘Surfing’s awesome,’ he’d been telling her tiny baby. ‘The feel of cool water on your toes, the strength of the wave lifting you, surging forward... Feel my fingers as I push under your toes. Imagine that’s a wave, lifting you, surging... That’s right, our Emily, curl your toes. You have such a tiny life, our Emily, but we need to fill it with so much. I wish I could take you surfing but feel the power under your toes and know that surfing’s wonderful and you’re wonderful and I hope you can take all this with you.’

And Tasha found herself blinking and Hilda gasped and glared at Rhonda, who grabbed a handful of tissues from the counselling table. Tasha suddenly found she was being hugged. ‘Dear, no,’ Rhonda gasped. ‘We shouldn’t have come. We never should have asked. Tom will be okay. Cray Point will survive. Forget it, sweetheart, forget we ever came.’

Somehow she disengaged from their collective hug. Somewhere she’d read a research article that said hugging released oxytocin and oxytocin did all sorts of good things to the body. It made you more empathic. It made you want to connect more with your fellow humans.

With Tom? She’d be playing with fire.

Why? Because he was like Paul? He wasn’t. Not really. She’d stayed with him for a month and there’d never been a hint that he was interested in her...that way.

Besides, she was older, wiser, and she knew how to protect herself.

And this time she didn’t need Tom. Tom needed her, and Rhonda and Hilda were waiting for an answer.

And in the end there was only one answer she could give. No matter what Tom’s personal life was like, what he’d done for her had been beyond price.

And then the idea that had been playing at the edges of her mind suddenly, unexpectedly surfaced. The idea had been growing, like an insistent ache, an emptiness demanding to be filled, a void it took courage to even think about.

She could still scarcely think about it but if she went to help Tom she’d be returning to Australia, where an IVF clinic still held Paul’s gift.

She’d agonised over using Paul’s sperm last time, but in the end it had come down to thinking her baby could know of its father. This time the tug to use the same sperm was stronger. Another baby would be Emily’s brother or sister.

And suddenly that was in her heart, front and centre, and she knew what her answer would be.

‘Of course I’ll go,’ she told them swiftly, before she had the time to change her mind. Before fear took over. ‘It’ll take me a couple of days to get there but I’ll do it.’

‘Oh, Tasha,’ Hilda breathed.

‘But don’t tell him,’ Rhonda urged. ‘He won’t let you come if you tell him. He’ll say he’s fine. He’ll fire us for contacting you.’

‘I’d like to see him try,’ Hilda declared, but she sounded nervous and Tasha summoned a grin.

‘Okay,’ she told them. ‘I won’t warn him. But he’d better not be in bed with Susie when I get there.’

‘I wouldn’t think so,’ Hilda declared, though she didn’t sound absolutely certain.

‘Sure,’ Tasha said, but she didn’t feel sure in the least.