Читать книгу In The Venetian's Bed - Susan Stephens, Susan Stephens - Страница 6

‘I’M STILL waiting for an explanation,’ she reminded him.

He watched her glance sweep across the lines and tubes attached to his patient. Nell Foster was continually harassing him and questioning his judgement. Part of him resented it, part admired her spirit, but most of all he was concerned for the child lying so still and silent on the stretcher. He didn’t want to show the mother how concerned he was. She was steadier now and he wanted to keep her that way. Too much knowledge would frighten her, too little might raise her hopes.

He found himself assessing her covertly. The mother was very different from the child. Nell Foster was robust, her features strong and clearly defined. It followed that the child must take after her father, which opened up more questions. He made himself stop and turn back to his charge. The little girl’s eyes were as vividly blue as her mother’s—he’d seen that when he checked her over. But was her gaze half as direct? He could only hope she was a fighter like her mother.

‘I’m still waiting!’

He turned his professional face to Nell. Her wide, intelligent gaze assured him she wouldn’t let up. It also hit him forcibly in the chest. Clearing his throat, he gazed at the roof of the cabin and launched into a reasonable explanation without giving too much detail. ‘There’s some congestion in your daughter’s lungs. I’m trying to ease her breathing.’ He stopped there, but even this was a first. He never divulged information piecemeal, never uttered a word that wasn’t backed up by hard fact. There was a whole range of tests he would have to carry out before he could be sure of his diagnosis…

‘When will you be able to give me some real answers?’

He had to look at her. ‘Soon, I hope.’

‘You hope?’ She was scathing. ‘How soon can we get someone else to look at Molly—someone who can do more than hope?’

Her mouth was set in a firm line, which drew his attention to her lips. He ignored the insult, and tried to ignore her lips. He brought professionalism to bear like a steel curtain, cutting Nell Foster out of the picture. ‘At the very least, I’ll need an X-ray to confirm my diagnosis. The drugs should help—’

‘Should?’

‘Medicine is not an exact science.’ He couldn’t believe how pompous he sounded.

‘So why not leave her alone until we reach the hospital? Anyone can see she’s sleeping. I think it would be better if you left her to rest rather than pumping her full of drugs before you know what you’re doing!’

‘Oh, do you?’ He’d had enough, but bit his tongue and focused on the child lying on the stretcher. How could he tell Nell Foster that her daughter wasn’t sleeping, but unconscious?

‘If Molly is having difficulty breathing,’ Nell persisted, ‘we should be able to hear something. Coughing, wheezing.’ Her eyes sharpened with certainty, and as he watched hope flood her face something rapped again on the stone he called a heart.

‘Nell, stop this!’

He didn’t know why he’d used her first name in such an emotional and unprofessional way, but the strange thing was that when Nell Foster’s eyes filled with tears his stung too. And it was not just tiredness that made him empathise with his patient’s mother—there was something more, something he had never let through before. There was fragility behind her bravado; he could hear it like a silent cry of desperation. ‘It isn’t always that simple,’ he said carefully. Most people would be content with that.

He should have known. ‘Go on,’ Nell said, firming her jaw.

He looked at her and measured her strength. It didn’t fall short, and that was something he could connect to. He owed it to her to be straight. ‘Sometimes, when things are really serious, there’s very little to hear at all.’

‘Really serious?’ She looked at him and he saw her spirit crumple; the fire went out of her, which again, incredibly, hurt him like hell.

What was this? What was happening to him? He never got involved emotionally. It was one of the first things he’d learned at med school—the moment you became prey to your emotions you were no use to anyone, least of all your patient. ‘Try not to get upset.’ He knew it sounded trite but he didn’t know what to say, had never felt like this before. He longed to escape the suffocating tension swirling round the cabin.

‘What do you suggest?’ Her voice was shaking with emotion. ‘Am I supposed to remove myself to some emotion-free zone when I’ve just been told my daughter is dangerously ill?’

He could think of nothing to say.

‘Luca?’ she pressed.

Her use of his first name gave him a jolt, even though he knew it was merely a measure of her desperation. ‘We can only wait now,’ he said honestly.

Did he really think she was going to crumble? Nell wondered, holding Luca’s gaze. Maybe at one time in her life she might have broken down, but not now. The turning point had been Molly’s birth. She’d had something to fight for since then. She would keep this vigil with him, keep it and will Molly well again.

Nell forced herself to look at everything dispassionately, to listen and become accustomed to all the alien sights and sounds: the nebuliser humming, the launch’s engines throbbing, the muted Italian exchanges rising and falling expressively around her like a song.

‘Andiamo!’

Luca barked out his instruction as they turned into the wide stretch of water that formed the main thoroughfare through Venice. It jolted Nell back to reality, made it hard to cling to the little life-raft of calm she had formed in her mind. She clutched the seat, ready now as the launch tipped at an even steeper angle. But the momentum jerked her forward and she was only stopped from slipping off the seat by Luca’s whip-fast reactions.

‘Sit back as far as you can, or I’ll have to take her from you.’

His voice was as harsh as before. She had put too much store in the brief flash of kindness. Nell drew Molly closer. No one was going to take Molly from her. Her daughter was back where she belonged, where she was going to stay…

‘Don’t hold her so tightly.’

She loosened her grip immediately. She wanted to get it right for Molly.

‘If you must lean on something, lean on me.’

Lean on him? ‘I’d rather not.’

‘Just until you become used to the rhythm of the boat—’

‘I can manage, thank you!’ Nell shrank away, relieved when Luca seemed to have second thoughts and left her to have a word with the captain of the boat, but even his back view was unsettling.

Dr Luca Barbaro was a manifestation of everything Nell knew she had to fear. He was arrogant, with an iron resolve, along with an innate certainty that everything he did or said was right. She took in the wide shoulders blocking out the light, the legs aggressively planted on the deck to keep him steady…the hands she could only describe as fighting, strong hands, but with a doctor’s long, tapering fingers. Every square inch of the flesh she could see appeared to be tanned a uniform bronze. Luca Barbaro would have fit well in some medical drama played out on television—one where the lead doctor was improbable heartthrob material. She could only hope he possessed more qualifications than his Hollywood counterparts.

Nell tried to relax, tried to settle into the rhythm of the boat so that Molly would be comfortable. But her thoughts kept on colliding like skittles. How long before they reached the hospital? How long before they found a proper doctor? How long before someone told her what was wrong with Molly?

‘I’ll take her now.’

Had they arrived? Nell looked up and realised they had. As she started to get up Luca stopped her.

‘I’ll take her,’ he repeated. ‘She’ll be safer with me.’

Safer? How could a child be safer anywhere than in its mother’s arms? But there was such a tangle of wires and tubes hanging from Molly, Nell was terrified she might dislodge one of them.

Luca put his free hand on her shoulder and pressed her down. ‘I want you to wait for one of the men to help you disembark. I live and work in Venice, so I’m used to travelling at high speed on water. You might be a little unsteady on your feet.’

She had vowed not to let Molly out of her sight, but what if she stumbled and hurt her in some way—pulled out one of the tubes?

As she watched them go, Nell suffered a presentiment; the dark cloud enveloping her made her doubly impatient to disembark. ‘Look after her,’ she called.

Luca Barbaro didn’t look back as he walked swiftly away with Molly and one of the paramedics at his side, holding the drip.

The men on board the launch seemed to take so long securing the mooring ropes, though it could only have been a matter of seconds, Nell reasoned, telling herself to be calm. She had no option but to wait until they had finished in order to have Molly’s pushchair brought up from the hold. Meanwhile she followed Molly’s progress on shore. There was a nurse waiting for the new patient outside the hospital gates. Luca didn’t break stride as he drew level with the man; the only concession he made was to angle his head to accommodate the nurse’s shorter frame as they exchanged information, and then they disappeared through some gates.

She was like a hare out of the traps when one of the crew finally came to help. But Luca had been right, and she was glad of the man’s steadying hand as she left the launch. The swirling brown water looked far from inviting from this angle, and she couldn’t adjust to terra firma right away.

‘Piano, piano, signora,’ the man insisted, holding on to her.

Nell claimed the pushchair, called her thanks and was off. It was as if Molly had left a burning trail, which if she hurried she was sure she could follow.

‘Signora?’ A security guard stood in her way.

‘What do you want?’ Nell knew she sounded impatient, and her voice was shaking, but Molly’s trail was growing cold. ‘I’m with Dr Barbaro.’

The guard stood firm.

‘You have to let me go inside. Dr Barbaro has taken my daughter into the hospital.’ She mimed, pointing, hoping he understood. ‘You must have seen them? They were here just a minute ago. You have to let me pass!’

But the language barrier proved insurmountable. ‘Signora, per favore…’

‘No! You have to let me in!’ Her voice was desperate, and she tried to twist past him. But the security guard had seen it all and put his hand on the gate, stopping her.

‘Mi dispiace…’ Nell struggled to compose herself. ‘I’m sorry.’ She used her hands to make placating gestures while she racked her brain for some useful words. None would come. Her knowledge of Italian was so limited. She tried smiling—that always worked. ‘I don’t speak Italian, signor.’ It was so hard trying to appear normal, rational, calm—the type of person a security guard would happily allow inside his hospital. Impossible, in fact, when the world and everything in it was swirling in front of her eyes and the only image she could see clearly was Molly lying in Luca Barbaro’s arms. Molly attached to tubes and wires, Molly’s beautiful face half-hidden by a mask. Molly. ‘Per piacere, signore…’ Nell was nearly sobbing now.

‘Mi dispiace, signora.’ The guard shook his head.

‘You have to let me in!’ Nell tried brute force, her weight against his. ‘I have a little girl to go to!’

But she had no chance of getting through. As her shoulders slumped in defeat, the guard cupped her elbow and gently chivvied her along to the door of his stone-built security post, which was situated on the wrong side of the hospital gates. Leaving her for a moment, he stepped inside his lodge and locked the door.

It had finally happened. Her worst nightmare had come true. Luca had taken Molly—shut her out when Molly needed her most.

Nell started in alarm as a small wooden panel slid open in front of her face.

‘In primo luogo, signora, dove fare questo—’

‘I must do what?’ Nell gazed at the form in the security guard’s hand with foreboding. ‘Oh, no, signor…’

‘Si,’ he said firmly. ‘Per favore.’

A glance around the towering walls dividing her from Molly was all it took to convince Nell she had to comply. When he handed her the form she had to fill in Nell measured the sheets in one angry gesture. She had to fight for control. ‘Un—er—biro, signor, per piacere?’

‘Certo.’ With obvious relief he handed a pen over.

Nell raced through the form, interpreting it as best she could. Fortunately, forms the world over were much the same, and she did have some experience of filling them in, though she tried not to think about the last time she had done so. When she had finished the guard took them from her and checked each page meticulously.

‘Can I go now?’ It was like being back at school. Only she was older, and this wasn’t playtime.

‘Si, signora.’ The guard pulled back from the opening.

His manner had changed to reveal more consideration. But she didn’t want to dwell on the sympathy she could see in his eyes: she had to stay strong; she had to pay careful attention to his directions. She would forgive him anything if he would just hurry!

Nell abandoned the pushchair, and started to run.

The first corridor she came across was long and featureless. At the end she had two choices. Molly’s trail had vanished. Nell stared from left to right and back again. Then in answer to her prayer a door opened.

‘My daughter, mia figlia…trauma…?’ Nell tried everything she could think of as the nurse came towards her.

‘La piccola raggazina?’

‘Si!’

The nurse put a hand on her arm, which Nell shook off angrily. The nurse seemed to understand, though, and smiled reassurance. ‘This way, signora. Please, come with me.’

The nurse seemed so bright, so happy and confident. Nell told herself her manner had to be a sign that Molly must have recovered. She was even smiling expectantly as they walked through some swing doors into a treatment room. But the smell of antiseptic hit her, tossing her back into the nightmare of Jake’s accident, and the lights were so bright…

As Nell began to orientate herself she felt the nurse’s steadying hand creep beneath her arm.

Molly was lying propped up on a bank of pillows. Her tiny arms were like sticks at either side of her body, her tiny fists digging into the mattress as if she was struggling to hold herself even more erect in order to breathe. Was she awake? It was impossible to tell.

For the first time since this whole dreadful episode had started Nell found she was hoping Molly wasn’t. She didn’t want her to be awake while her fragile blue-veined chest was pumping frantically. She looked in agony, and the strain on her heart had to be enormous.

Slowly Nell’s focus expanded to take in the nurse standing at each corner of the bed. Luca was standing at the head of it, closest to Molly. He turned as if he had been expecting her.

‘There’s nothing more you can do?’ She guessed that much and then thought his lips looked dry. She noticed that he had to moisten them with his tongue before he could answer.

‘No.’

She waited, but that was all he said. Without waiting to be invited Nell went straight to Molly’s side. Kneeling on the floor, she took her daughter’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. Then the miracle she been hoping for happened. Opening her eyes, clutching at her throat, Molly turned her head.

‘Mumma,’ she gasped.