Dominic feels a tugging on his sleeve and twists sideways to see Bella.
‘Daddy, I need a wee.’
Dominic looks at Ruth, who is unpacking the contents of the hamper and doesn’t appear to have heard. His jaw muscles stiffen.
‘Daddy, I need a wee. Wee.’ The voice is louder and more insistent.
‘Bella, I wish you’d thought of that before we walked all the way over from the car park.’
Ruth looks round and is on her feet.
‘It’s okay, Dom. Bella and I can go over to the washrooms. Our hands are sticky anyway, aren’t they, Bella?’
Dominic watches them trail back over the park, hand in hand. He takes a bottle of ginger beer out of the cool box, then sits down, resting his back against the knotted trunk of a lime tree. A breeze ruffles through the branches above his head, causing the little red leaf buds to bob like miniature boxing gloves.
He takes out his phone and re-reads Mike’s message, then dials his number.
‘Dominic?’ Mike’s voice is distinct, clear.
‘Hi, mate. Thanks for the message.’
‘No worries. Lucky Pagoda. You bought in last week at three fifty. It’s had a good run to three eighty already.’
‘I know. I checked. That was a good call of Gary’s.’
‘I’ve just been speaking to him. Their balance sheet is solid. It’s ripe for the F1 takeover. Think you need to take another punt.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Transfer another five hundred thousand. Madeleine’s assets have been paid into Bella’s trust fund now. They’re secure. You’ve got spare to take a gamble. Lucky Pagoda’s got a low price-earnings ratio. Little debt.’
Dominic whistles through his teeth. ‘You sure?’
‘It’s a win-win situation, mate. Speculate to accumulate and all that.’
Dominic’s mind is working overtime. It’s a lot of money.
‘Dom? You still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Think about it. But you’ll need to move fast before every muppet starts buying in.’
Dominic sits up straight. ‘I’ve thought about it. First thing tomorrow morning. I’ll have it organised. Thanks for the tip-off.’
‘Good man. You know it makes sense. Speak soon.’ The line goes dead.
Dominic lifts the bottle of ginger beer to his mouth and takes a long, cool drink.
He leans back against the tree and closes his eyes. His luck is about to change for the better.
28
Ruth
Predictable. The morning after a Bank Holiday weekend and already Ruth’s appointment screen looks like a screenshot from a busy day at air traffic control.
She lifts her hair free of her collar, closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths. At least the weekend had ended on a relaxed note. Despite Dominic’s initial intransigence the day out at Windridge had lightened his mood. He’d even agreed to her having a birthday dinner party next week. And to letting Bella stay overnight. Bella. Ruth had watched her chasing bubbles round the park yesterday. Her health remained an enigma. The vague symptoms: the tiredness, the tummy aches, the poor appetite. Dominic’s lament that he never felt listened to by health professionals. All this continues to puzzle Ruth. Could she be missing something? Hardly. She knows Dominic pretty well by now. This was simply a family adjusting to life after bereavement.
She places her hands across her chest and feels it rise and fall as she takes deep breaths. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. Slowly she counts to ten, allowing her thoughts from the weekend to drift away. Calmness descends. Control.
She opens her eyes and notices that four more telephone consultations have been added to the screen. Time to move on.
Her first patient is a woman in her sixties, her thinning hair scraped back into a bun, like a cottage loaf. Her papery skin is stretched tightly over her face, a rough rash scales her cheeks. Normally she looks stooped, but today she seems taller. She eases herself onto the chair. ‘Have you had the letter from the hospital yet?’ she asks Ruth.
‘I have indeed, Mrs. Tomlinson. It’s starting to add up.’
‘Yes. The specialist sounded very encouraging. Said you’d put me on some new tablets.’
Ruth looks at the hospital letter, then back again at the woman’s face. Of course, the red cheeks were classic. A butterfly rash. The joint pains, the kidney infections, the cough. It all made sense. Systemic lupus erythematosus.
‘Well I’m pleased we’ve made progress with the diagnosis. Once these tablets take effect you’re bound to feel better.’
‘Thanks, Dr. Cooper. I was beginning to feel I was making a fuss over nothing, being tired all the time and what not.’
‘Not at all,’ says Ruth, clicking on the laboratory results, her patient’s words echoing in her head. Making a fuss over nothing. Tired all the time. An itching realisation creeps over her. Sure enough she had a low white count, low platelets, anaemia and an abnormal immunological profile.
Ruth prints out the prescription and hands it over.
‘I’m booking you in for another blood test with the nurse,’ she says, ‘then I’ll see you again in a month.’
As soon as the patient leaves she clicks on her medical database.
‘Systemic Lupus Erythematosus: a chronic, multisystem, inflammatory connective tissue disease of auto-immune origin.’
The words jump out of the screen at her. It’s going to take some time to research this in more detail, but she’ll come back to it later. The vague, non-specific symptoms like tiredness and no appetite. Bella’s symptoms. The results of the blood tests. Bella’s blood picture. Dominic being told he was making a fuss over nothing. Why the hell hadn’t she thought of this before? She can’t wait to tell him.
With a hint of satisfaction, she presses the call button to summon her next patient, and swivels in her chair to greet him.
A blue rectangle from the computer screen is the sole illumination in the kitchen. Everything is quiet, save for the sound of traffic stirring up puddles on the road outside. Ruth opens her electronic log book but instead of clicking on her appraisal folder she reopens her file on ‘Systemic lupus erythematosus.’
‘A connective tissue disorder of auto-immune origin.’
She scrolls down the list of symptoms: fatigue, weight loss, cold hands and feet, mouth ulcers, respiratory problems, kidney injury, blood disorders, heart disease, seizures.
As she gets further down the screen she can feel her heart beat quickening.
‘SLE in childhood can be very difficult to diagnose, due to similarities with other auto-immune conditions such as multiple sclerosis, and a lack of diagnostic criteria.’
She retraces the words on the screen. Multiple sclerosis? She continues. ‘Children present with more acute illness and have more frequent renal, haematological and neurological involvement at the time of diagnosis.’
She stands up, and switches on the main light. The room takes on a shifting phosphorescent quality, like a search beam. Mentally she thanks Mrs. Tomlinson, her SLE patient, for the prompt. The kidney problems, the asthma, the low white count, the anaemia. Bella’s symptoms seemed to fit the picture. And there’s even the possibility of a genetic link, given Madeleine’s multiple sclerosis. Suddenly it’s as if Ruth has been tapping away at a coal seam and has unexpectedly struck gold.
She squints in the harsh light. Taking a glass from the shelf, she fills it with wine from the fridge. As it rolls over her tongue, the gooseberry flavour sours her mouth, leaving a bitter after-taste when she swallows. She returns to the computer and sits in contemplation. She wonders if Bella has had auto-immune profiling carried out. Difficult to suggest when she’s not her doctor. And frustrating when she wants to help, but doesn’t want to alienate her colleagues. She decides on a compromise and scans eight pages of me
dical notes, which she sends by e mail to Dominic. They can discuss it tomorrow.
29
Ruth
‘What time are we expecting Val and Mike?’ Dominic runs his fingers through his tousled hair, which is still damp from the shower.
‘Not till seven,’ says Ruth taking a casserole out of the oven and giving it a stir. ‘But this is already prepared. Chicken, sweet peppers, chorizo and tomatoes. I can do the rice once they arrive.’
‘I’ve had a letter from my mother,’ says Dominic, leaning against the kitchen counter. ‘She’s planning a visit next month.’
‘Gosh. How long since you’ve seen her? Four years?’
‘When Bella was born. She didn’t come over to Madeleine’s funeral, so there’s got to be a pressing reason why she’s coming over now. Probably needs more money.’ He looks distant. ‘My father left her in a lot of debt. Then she remarried and her money troubles seemed to be over. Except I hadn’t banked on her profligate spending.’
Ruth takes a lettuce out of the fridge and begins separating the leaves in a colander.
‘It’ll be nice for Bella to meet her though, won’t it? She won’t remember her from the last time.’
‘Yeah, poor Bella. My mother is her only grandparent. She has an uncle, Madeleine’s brother, but he lives in Australia. Madeleine’s parents died before Bella was born.’
‘Did you ever meet them?’
‘Edna and Norman? Oh, God, yes. I don’t think they ever approved of me. They were plain-speaking, take–as-you-find northerners. Edna always looked like she was in the presence of a bad smell whenever she met me, and Norman, who was a hearse driver with the Co-op, kept quiet and did as he was told.’
Ruth laughs, but inwardly she thinks how sad that is. Her own parents are both dead. She understands what loss is. It’s a factor which draws her even closer to Dom.
‘That’s a bit harsh. When’s your mother coming over? I’d like to meet her.’
A flicker of concern appears to cross Dominic’s face.
‘It’ll have to be another time, I’m afraid. She’ll be staying in London, so I’ll take Bella there at half term to see her.’
Ruth shakes the lettuce under the cold water tap, then pats it dry with some kitchen towel. So that’s what the letter from America was about.
‘You must show me some photos of her. What’s her name?’
‘Mm, I’m not sure I have any photos, I’ll have a look. And it’s Viviane. Viviane Zuckerman now.’
‘Mrs. Zuckerman, of Miami Beach. Wow, sounds very glamorous.’
Dominic rounds on her. ‘How do you know she lives in Miami Beach?’
In her mind Ruth is halfway to telling him she picked up his mail the day he left for the hospital.
‘You told me, remember? The night after Bella was admitted to hospital.’
Dominic ponders this for a second. ‘I did?’
‘Yep.’ She feels herself swaying a little and holds onto the worktop to steady herself. It’s the second dizzy spell she’s had today. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t eaten today, but she’s got no appetite. Even the smell of reheated chorizo is making her nauseous.
‘Oh, before I forget,’ says Dominic, his tone lightening, ‘thank you for the notes on SLE. Really interesting. I’ve got Bella an appointment at Whitehall Clinic next week, so we could be making progress.’
‘Whitehall Clinic?’
Dominic takes a business card out of his pocket and turns it over in his hands. ‘Whitehall Clinic. Private Primary Care Consultants. We pride ourselves on holistic care,’ he reads.
‘Must be new,’ Ruth replies.
‘Well, there’s no harm in getting a second opinion, is there?’ he says, as he catches her sleeve and pulls her towards him. He plants a kiss on her forehead, then another on her lips. ‘Who’s a clever doctor,’ he says. ‘Thanks for letting me bring Bella here tonight.’
‘You know I’ve wanted that for a long time.’
‘Well I don’t think I can rely on Courtney to babysit anymore. That’s the third time in a row that she’s let me down.’
‘Every cloud has a silver lining, as they say,’ says Ruth, her smile widening.
‘Bella loved helping you with the cake.’
‘You know how fond I am of her. And you know what? If we can persuade Mike and Val not to outstay their welcome, you and I can have an early night.’
Dominic strokes the pearls round Ruth’s neck. ‘I’m glad you like your present, darling. Happy Birthday. You look beautiful.’
‘You’re not dieting again, are you?’ asks Val, following Ruth through to the kitchen. ‘You don’t need to. You hardly ate any supper.’
Ruth notices Val’s eyes taking in her figure, scrutinizing her up and down, lingering on her belly.
‘I haven’t had much of an appetite recently, especially for the booze. Had the odd dizzy spell too.’ She peels back the waxed cover from a chunk of Stinking Bishop and wants to retch. ‘Here,’ she says, passing it to Val. ‘Can you do this for me, it reeks.’
‘Well, you know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’ Their eyes meet and Val gives her a look, the look that spells p-r-e-g-n-a-n-t.
Ruth glances through to the conservatory where Dominic and Mike are deep in conversation. She lowers her voice. ‘I did a test yesterday. Negative. Mind you, it’s probably too early to tell. I’m only two days overdue.’ She goes over to the sink and fills a glass with water, then takes a sip. ‘And can you stop staring at me. I’d be as surprised as you if it was positive. Although I did forget the odd pill last month.’
Val muses for a few seconds. She opens a box of crackers and arranges them on a plate. ‘What can I say?’ She hesitates, as if weighing up whether to say any more, then goes ahead regardless. ‘You haven’t exactly wasted much time, have you? Right. Shall we take these through?’
30
Dominic
It’s gone eleven o’clock. Dominic wishes Val and Mike would go home.
‘Oh my goodness, look at this photo,’ says Val, picking up a silver frame from the windowsill. ‘How old were you then, Ruth? I’m guessing from your mother’s flares and her Sindy doll hairstyle you must have been eight or nine.’
Ruth takes the picture from Val’s hands and laughs. ‘Yeah, probably about eight. That was taken on our caravan holiday in Scotland. Probably why I’m rocking the tartan trousers, ha, ha.’
‘Aw, your Mum and Dad were such lovely people. I’m so glad I got the chance to meet them when we were at Med School.’
Dominic listens to this idle chit chat, feigning interest from time to time. He wants to wind up this conversation.
‘It’s so cool that you have all these childhood photos dotted around the house,’ continues Val. ‘What about you, Dom? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a photo of you as a little boy. I bet you were a real charmer.’
Dominic is conscious that all eyes are on him.
‘Oh. There’s bound to be some photos tucked away somewhere,’ he says, shifting in his seat.
‘Dominic’s mother’s coming over next month,’ announces Ruth.
Dominic recoils at the unwelcome proclamation. His nostrils fan with discontent.
‘Oh, wonderful,’ says Val. ‘I’d love to meet her. Didn’t she move to the States, just after your father died? Your poor dad. Cancer’s a bastard.’
Dominic feels the invasion of cool night air and stands up to slide the conservatory doors shut. Ruth is staring at him, but he ignores Val’s question and looks back at Ruth, trying to convey his irritation. They’ve overstayed their welcome now, and he wants to go to bed.
‘Actually, the other day, I came across some great photos of you and me at Med School,’ Ruth says to Val, lifting up the cafetiere and offering her another cup of coffee. ‘There’re upstairs. I must show you before you go.’
/> Dominic coughs. He needs his sleep, or his migraine will punish him. His eyes meet Ruth’s and he raises his eyebrows, but she seems intent on pursuing this line of conversation. A moth throws itself repeatedly against the lamp above their heads.
‘Remember after the May Ball when we went down the slides in our evening dresses at five in the morning? I’ve got a photo of that. Do you remember going to the all-night bakery afterwards? I’ve got one of that too.’ She stands up, dropping her napkin to the floor. ‘In fact I’m going upstairs to get them. Wait till you see our ball gowns. You’ll die laughing.’
‘Ruth,’ Dominic protests, but it’s too late, as she disappears out of the room.
He yawns loudly and makes no attempt to cover it up.
‘It’s okay, Dom,’ says Mike. ‘We’ll get going as soon as Ruth comes back. Give me a shout on Monday and we can get a date in the diary for our next meeting.’
‘Yeah, will do.’
They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. Val helps herself to a large glass of water. Mike edges bits of cheese round his plate.
After ten minutes, or so, Val looks up at Dom. ‘She’s either fallen asleep up there or she’s going through the whole box of photographs.’
He laughs politely, then stands up and starts clearing plates away.
Suddenly, a shrill yell comes from upstairs. It scuds down the stairs and into the hall, and whips round corners into the kitchen, seeking them out with urgency. A clattering on the stairs. Ruth shouting for help.
Within the space of two heartbeats Val and Mike are on their feet, the stain from an upended bottle of Rioja haemorrhaging over the white tablecloth. Breathlessly they follow Dominic into the hall where Ruth is standing, the colour drained from her face.
‘Quick. Call an ambulance. Now. It’s Bella.’
Love Until It Hurts Page 14