Christmas at Jimmie's Children's Unit Page 10

  ‘She’s a little fighter,’ Grace murmured, but the rest of the team grew silent, too shocked by the near loss to be chattering. Alex left the theatre; a resident, under Angus’s watchful eyes, would close the chest, leaving in place drains and a pacemaker to keep the heartbeat steady. Like Bob, Bethany would be on a ventilator for a few days at least, watched over night and day in the special PICU.

  Kate waited while the baby was transferred to a crib, then followed as it was wheeled to the PICU. But as Alex was there talking to the parents, she didn’t stay, thinking she’d change and return in a short while to check on her charge. But once in the changing room she slumped onto a bench, feeling as if all her energy had been drained away by the tension they’d endured in Theatre.

  Angus came and sat beside her, not speaking, just sitting, yet the bulk and warmth of his body, close to hers, was infinitely comforting.

  ‘Why do we never expect those things to happen?’ she asked him. ‘Why is it always such a gut-wrenching shock?’

  She didn’t really expect him to answer, so was surprised when, after his usual thoughtful pause, he said, ‘It’s the optimism thing again. If you consider it seriously, how often do we have dramas during an op? Perhaps not as dramatic as today’s, but small dramas?’

  Kate thought about it, then had to agree.

  ‘Nearly every operation,’ she admitted. ‘A bleed, a blood vessel that kinks, unexpected difficulty getting the patient on bypass—I guess there’s always something to keep us on our toes.’

  She sighed and shook her head, not comforted at all.

  ‘So why was today different?’ he asked.

  She turned towards him.

  ‘Because that baby died,’ she told him bluntly. ‘And for a little while it looked as if she might have stayed dead! That’s not why we operate, for babies to die.’

  Had her voice quavered? Had her eyes filled with tears? She knew she was emotional but didn’t realise she’d let it show until Angus put his arm around her and hugged her to him.

  ‘Did they all die, your family, that you need a new one? Was it more than your sister that you lost?’

  His voice was so gentle, so full of understanding, that she let out the sob she’d been holding in her chest, then, realising where she was—and who was holding her—she pushed away, swiping tears from her face.

  ‘Oh, for Pete’s sake, Angus, don’t encourage me to be maudlin. I can do that well enough on my own.’

  ‘And here I was thinking you were an optimist,’ he teased, and once again she saw a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.

  I could fall in love with a smiling Angus.

  The thought hit her like a hammer blow.

  ‘Well, I am.’ She spoke firmly and just as firmly moved away from him, stripping off her outer layer of theatre clothes and pulling on a white coat so she’d look professional even if she was feeling like a teenager on the threshold of love.

  It couldn’t possibly be love. It was attraction and tension, two powerful forces combining to throw her normal commonsensical self into turmoil.

  ‘See you later,’ she said to the man causing all the trouble. He was still sitting on the bench, not smiling now, but no less attractive.

  ‘When later?’ he asked as she was about to flit through the door, hurrying away from him.

  She turned back, frowning now.

  ‘Sometime, any time—it was just a phrase, like “goodbye,”’ she grumbled at him.

  ‘Only it wasn’t goodbye,’ he reminded her, watching her closely, something in that regard making her stomach uneasy again.

  ‘It’s an Australian goodbye. We say it all the time—“see you later”—it doesn’t mean anything.’ And in case he didn’t get the message, she slipped a touch of sarcasm into her voice as she added, ‘And much as I’d like to stay and discuss the vagaries and variations of the English language with you, I really have to go and check on Bethany.’

  He nodded, then as she shot through the door she heard him say, ‘I’ll see you later,’ and the shiver that slithered down her spine suggested he wasn’t using the words as a farewell but as a promise.

  Angus knew he should stir himself from the bench. He had a cardiac catheterisation on a teenager to do and patients to check before that, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, his mind turning over the totally inane conversation he’d had with Kate.

  Although the earlier conversation hadn’t been inane. She hadn’t answered his question about her family, but the great gulp of grief she’d given had spoken for her.

  ‘Ah, Angus, just the man I want to see.’ He turned to find Clare had joined him in the changing room. ‘Have you heard about this hospital social they’re having on Friday night? Apparently it’s to welcome all the new staff, and as I hate walking into something like that on my own, I wondered if you’d mind if we went together. We could grab an early bite to eat at that little restaurant down the road, then walk up to the hospital from there.’

  Angus stared at the woman he’d been thinking he should ask out to divert his mind, not to mention his body, from thoughts of Kate, but now that she was here, asking him out, he didn’t have a clue how to reply.

  Except—

  ‘This Friday?’ he asked.

  Clare nodded.

  ‘Becky’s put up a notice in our staff lounge.’

  ‘I’m on call,’ Angus told her, although he knew that was no excuse to not go to the shindig. After all, from the way Clare spoke, it must be being held at the hospital.

  She raised her eyebrows, letting him know she knew he was prevaricating.

  Feeling remarkably stupid, he rushed in to the breech. ‘Of course I can go with you,’ he said, then he shrugged. ‘It’s just that in the past I’ve tried to avoid hospital social activities. We spend so much time on the job as it is, it’s always seemed unnecessary to return to the place when I don’t have to.’

  ‘But it is a way for the team to get to know one another better and for us to meet some of the hospital staff from other disciplines,’ Clare pointed out. ‘With Christmas only a month away, surely it’s a good idea to get to know a few people.’

  ‘Christmas!’ Angus muttered. ‘I keep forgetting about Christmas—I suppose because it’s so darned hot it doesn’t feel like November. I’d thought I might get home to Scotland this year for Christmas, until Alex pointed out that he likes to take on new staff in November, so everyone is settled in and able to cover for one another over the holiday period.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Clare said, ‘this is easier than it used to be when staff were transferred from hospital to hospital at the start of a new year. You’d arrive in some country town you’d never heard of, and be thrown into New Year’s Day hangovers, and fights and family break-ups all brought on by too much heat and too much alcohol. And that’s not to mention the holiday road toll and all the car accidents we’d get.’

  Angus studied Clare while she explained all this, seeing her lips move, her eyes sparkle, aware of how very beautiful she was, and wondering why that beauty failed to spark even a murmur of attraction in his body.

  ‘So, Friday? Early dinner at Scoozi’s? That suit you?’

  Why on earth was he so reluctant? This was exactly what he needed—a woman and a beautiful one at that—to take his mind off Kate Armstrong.

  ‘Providing I’ve not been called out,’ he said, then it struck him that this was still far from organised. ‘I haven’t a car as yet so I can’t offer to collect you,’ he said, and she laughed.

  ‘I just live down the road,’ she said. ‘I’m renting a small flat from Annie Attwood’s father—Alex’s father-in-law. He’s in a wheelchair so he has the ground floor and he’s turned the upstairs part of the house where Annie lived into two flats. Oliver’s in the other one.’

  Oliver’s in the other one and you’re asking me to walk into the social affair with you? It didn’t make sense to Angus and he found himself asking her.

  ‘Is Oliver not going?’

  To
Angus’s surprise a faint blush coloured Clare’s cheeks. Not a patch on Kate’s blushes but a blush nonetheless.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, and that was that.

  Clare went through to the showers and Angus pulled off his theatre gear and dressed, moving quickly because he’d already wasted too much time mooning about in the changing room.

  Mooning?

  Definitely mooning! He could hear his mother’s voice, not scolding but chiding him. You’re mooning about again, she used to say, back when he was a teenager. Is it a girl?

  This time it is, Mum, and I don’t know what to do about it

  He sent the silent message to her, not that she could help, but admitting there was some mooning to be done over the Kate situation made him feel a little better.

  And having a date with Clare for Friday night—well, surely that was a good thing.

  Chapter Seven

  IT TURNED into one of the busiest weeks Kate could remember, and although the two babies she saw as special, Bob and Bethany, continued to do well, it seemed everything else that could go wrong did. A child showed an allergic reaction to a drug he’d had before; a young teenage girl went into arrhythmia as they were feeding a wire through her veins to take photos in her heart. Problems they overcame but which left all those involved in the procedures with tightened tension.

  Or was her higher-than-usual sense of anxiety caused by the fact that she was working so closely with Angus?

  Not that he showed the slightest interest in her outside professional courtesy. It was as if, as far as he was concerned, the kisses had never happened. So why were they imprinted on Kate’s lips? Imbedded deep in her mind?

  She hoped she was showing as cool an exterior as he was, but she doubted that was possible, knowing how her body warmed whenever he was near her.

  Maybe an affair would be okay…

  But even as the insidious thought slid into her mind, she felt the heaviness of loss within her body—the loss of the baby she’d never carry, never hold in her arms, because if she fell in love with Angus, how could she ever marry someone else?

  If she fell in love with Angus?

  She was thinking about this as she mooched home on Friday afternoon. She’d left work a little earlier than usual, wanting to wash her hair—no easy task with its curls and length—before the social do that evening.

  ‘You’re early—it’s not ready yet.’

  Hamish’s voice, ripe with accusation, greeted her. It seemed to be coming from behind the yellow sofa which she really had to move before the summer storms began and the old wreck of a thing became saturated and smelly with mould and who knew what else.

  She peered behind it to find her small neighbour busy digging a hole.

  ‘What’s not ready yet?’

  ‘My wombat hole.’

  Kate smiled to herself. Hamish always managed to make the most ridiculous things sound rational.

  ‘And why do you need a wombat hole?’

  He looked up at her now, blue eyes gleaming with excitement in a dirt-streaked face.

  ‘So a wombat can come and live in it, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kate responded weakly, sinking onto the sofa and wondering if having children was as good an idea as she’d thought it would be. Imagine having three who all wanted to dig wombat holes?

  ‘And why are you in my front yard when it’s off limits to you?’ she asked.

  He kept digging, although he did turn partially towards her as he said, ‘Juanita knows I’m here. I couldn’t be digging it in the backyard because the wombat wouldn’t see it there.’

  Kate had to chuckle, picturing a large wombat strolling down the road in search of a hole, checking out front yards as it went.

  ‘Did you have a story about wombats at kindy today?’ she asked the small digger.

  He shook his head, then sat back on his heels.

  ‘Juanita bought me a book about one,’ he explained. ‘It’s like the possum book only about a wombat so she knew I’d like it. She gave it to me because Dad’s going out tonight. He won’t be able to read my bedtime story, so she read it to me this afternoon when I had my rest.’

  There was a lot of information in Hamish’s words but the ones that stuck with Kate were ‘Dad’s going out tonight.’

  To the hospital social?

  That’s where she was going, but mainly because her friend Marcie, a paediatric physician, would be there and it was some time since they’d connected.

  But Angus hadn’t mentioned he was going…

  Why should he?

  ‘You could help me dig if you wanted to.’

  The digger had straightened up and was peering hopefully at her over the back of the sofa.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, switching her mind from the father to the child. ‘In fact, come and sit beside me and I’ll tell you some stuff about wombats.’

  He came obediently enough and snuggled onto the sofa beside her.

  ‘Do you know some wombats?’ he asked.

  She had to smile.

  ‘Not personally,’ she told him, ‘but that’s because they’re not like possums. They don’t live in the city, but out in the country. Wombats move very slowly, which means that if they lived in the city they’d be run over by cars or buses, so they stay way out in the country, although there are wombats in our wonderful zoo. Maybe one day your father will take you to the zoo. You can go on a ferry across the harbour, and that’s fun, to see all the animals there.’

  ‘Will you come, too?’ he asked, snuggling closer, and she couldn’t resist putting her arm around him and cuddling him against her, smelling dirt and sweat and little-boy smell.

  ‘Come where, too?’

  Kate closed her eyes and shook her head. One soppy cuddle with a little boy and she was caught. Hamish scrambled away from her.

  ‘To the zoo to see a wombat. See, Dad, I made a hole for one, but Kate says he won’t come because wombats don’t like living in the city so I’ll have to go to the zoo to see one.’

  ‘Wombats?’

  Angus had vaguely heard of such creatures, picturing in his mind something large and cumbersome, but his mind wasn’t working as well as it should be, having taken off at a tangent when he’d walked down the road to see his son cuddled in Kate’s arms.

  His first reaction had been anxiety—Hamish had been hurt—but his son’s bright voice dispelled that; the pair had been sharing nothing more than a hug.

  While they talked about wombats?

  He knew he was frowning but he couldn’t pin down the cause for his inner uneasiness. Surely it couldn’t be jealousy that Kate had achieved such closeness with Hamish so quickly? Fortunately Hamish’s piping voice broke into his confusion.

  ‘Can she, Dad, can she?’

  Can she, what?

  Before Angus had his mind straightened out again, Kate had answered for him.

  ‘I’ve already seen them, Hamish, many times, and now I have to get inside. Stuff to do.’

  She stood so hurriedly Angus knew she was escaping, not from Hamish but from him.

  So she, too, was feeling confusion over the kisses they had shared. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse as far as he was concerned, so he lifted his son off the sofa and set him on his shoulders, carrying him back to the house, letting Hamish’s flow of conversation about wombats, Kate and zoos flow over and around him, anchoring him back in his real life—the father of this lad.

  Father!

  Again the knowledge of the wall between them raised its head, although now he considered it, it seemed, since coming to Australia, he’d been able to grow closer to his son. He’d certainly been able to look at his face—so like his mother’s—without the oppressive guilt he’d once felt.

  Make no mistake, the guilt still lingered—it would never go away—but it had lessened in its intensity and for that he was sincerely grateful, so much so as he set Hamish down on the floor, he hugged the little boy and whispered that he l
oved him.

  Kate slipped her high-heeled sandals into a soft silk bag and slid her feet into flatties. She might not mind the walk to and from the hospital but in killer heels? No way! Although looking at herself, she hoped she wouldn’t meet Angus on the way. The sexy black dress she’d bought for another hospital function, then been too cowardly to wear, was just fine, but with the flat shoes? No, it didn’t work; it needed the high heels to set it off.

  And just why was she thinking of sexy dresses and Angus in the same breath? Wasn’t she avoiding Angus? Wasn’t she determined not to have an affair with him? Isn’t that what she’d decided as she’d washed her hair and spent a good hour straightening it, taming it into a shining auburn curtain that fell to her shoulders in long, obedient strands.

  Even in the flat shoes she looked pretty good, but—

  She shook her head, making the curtain of hair fly around her face. There was no way she could go to a hospital function dressed like this. Oh, she usually made some effort to look good, but a sexy black dress, killer heels and straightened hair? Her colleagues would be abuzz with speculation over which new member of the team she was trying to attract.

  Sighing deeply, she pulled off the dress, but she was damned if she’d mess with her hair. She hauled her faithful black slacks out of the wardrobe and found a slinky black singlet top to go with them. It was hot enough to go with just that, but it was a trifle bare for a casual social at the hospital, so she dug around until she found a short-sleeved cardigan, black with silver threads through it, and used it to finish her outfit. No need for high-heeled sandals, the flatties would do.

  As flat as her mood, she realised as she trudged up the road towards the hospital, no longer fearing she’d run into Angus. She felt thoroughly dispirited, in fact; although dispirited didn’t begin to describe how she felt when, in the foyer of the staff elevators, she ran into Angus and Clare, obviously together.

  It’s a good thing, she told herself, but the pain in her chest gave lie to the assertion.

  Was he staring at her? Angus hoped not, but he knew his eyes continued to be drawn in Kate’s direction, for all that he was responding to Clare’s conversation and listening as the two women exchanged greetings.