She decided to wait and, after ten, long, agonising minutes, her turn came.
‘Yes, what can I do for you?’ To his credit the pharmacist attempted a smile.
‘I want a home pregnancy test kit.’
‘Dip or stream?’
‘Pardon?’ What on earth did he mean? Despite her nursing background, she had no idea what he was talking about.
He lowered his voice. ‘Do you want to dip into a specimen cup or just pee on the stick?’
Joanna was acutely aware that the other occupants of the shop could hear every word. She felt the heat rise to her neck and was glad she hadn’t removed her hat.
‘Whichever is most accurate…’ She had a quick thought. She had no idea how much the tests cost. ‘And costs less than twenty dollars.’
A look of sympathy crossed the man’s face but it didn’t change the fact he still looked about eighteen to Joanna.
The man glanced behind her as if reminding her there were other people waiting, but she’d got this far and she wasn’t going to chicken out now.
‘It depends on how far along you are.’ The guy was assuming she was pregnant and it unsettled her even more.
‘Um…’ The conversation was turning into an ordeal. ‘About six weeks, I think.’
‘They’re all between ninety-five and ninety-nine per cent accurate at that stage.’ To her relief the inquisition stopped and he moved to scan a shelf to one side of the counter. He selected a couple of boxes.
‘This is a popular one. Easy to use and to read. You can buy it in a single pack for seven ninety-five or in the double for fifteen dollars.
She handed him the money. ‘I’ll take the double.’
At that moment, a middle-aged woman in a pale blue uniform burst into the shop with a flurry.
‘I can take over now, Ramesh. I’m sure you have some scripts to do.’
The pharmacist, looking relieved, nodded as the assistant took the twenty-dollar note from one hand and the test kit from the other. He made his way onto the platform overlooking the shop, where the prescriptions were made up. The woman glanced at the box and then at Joanna.
‘Just this?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
The woman completed the transaction, placed the purchase in a small paper bag and handed it to Joanna with her change.
Joanna nearly bowled over a wandering toddler as she left and had never been more relieved in her life to get out of a shop.
Twenty minutes later she was standing in her kitchen, ripping off the packaging of the pregnancy test kit. She unfolded the instructions and spread the single sheet of paper on the bench. Words blurred in and out of focus.
‘Concentrate!’ she muttered. ‘You don’t want to stuff this up.’
She read the instructions.
Absorbent tip pointing downward…
…urine stream for five seconds…
Wait three minutes before reading results…
TWO PINK LINES…
Her gaze shifted from the diagram that showed the two lines to the one next to it.
NOT PREGNANT, ONE PINK LINE.
That was the result she was expecting and the instructions seemed simple enough. She took the test stick into the bathroom and when she finally stopped shaking managed to pee on the stick.
The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of her life.
She sat on the toilet lid with the tester in her right hand and her eyes fixed on the second hand of her watch on the other wrist. She decided not to look at the result until the time was up because she felt sure she would imagine lines and confuse herself.
‘Ten, nine, eight…’ She began a countdown back to zero and when she reached five her hand began to shake. ‘Zero.’
Her eyes moved to the results window as she tried to steady her hand.
Right.
She focused.
Two pink lines. Yes, definitely two, so if the test was accurate she was pregnant with Richard’s child.
Tears of happiness filled her eyes and vibrant warmth suffused her whole body.
She was pregnant with Richard’s child.
Oh, dear God, what was she going to do?
A moment later all her fears descended on her like a landslide and she began to weep.
* * *
Richard was looking forward to the Tuesday morning ward round because Joanna was back on day shift. He’d missed her smiling face, her common-sense suggestions and her ability to make even the most despondent child laugh. He’d tried to contact her a couple of times on the weekend, hoping to meet up, maybe go on a picnic, but she hadn’t answered her phone. Although he’d been disappointed, he didn’t want to be pushy. At the last concert rehearsal they’d attended together just over a week ago, she’d seemed exhausted and she’d probably wanted a peaceful weekend to get her energy back.
When he entered Matilda Ward at just after eight o’clock, there was no sign of Joanna. Lynne had the trolley with all the patient notes ready, but was on the phone. She waved and mouthed the words, ‘Won’t be long.’
Richard nodded and used the time by having a quick look at Danny Sims’s latest scan. He smiled. The bulk of his tumour had reduced by roughly twenty per cent, which was more than anyone had hoped for in such a short time. If he continued to respond so well to his chemotherapy, there was a good chance his prognosis would improve. A full remission was too much to hope for at this stage but it at least put a positive outcome for his treatment in the realms of possibility.
Lynne hung up the phone and summoned the student nurse, Tracey, to the nurses’ station.
‘Good morning, Richard,’ the charge nurse said with a cheerful smile. ‘Do you mind if Tracey comes with us on the round this morning?’
‘No, of course not.’ Richard tried to hide his disappointment. ‘Where’s Joanna? I thought she was back today.’
Lynne’s eyebrows elevated. Maybe he hadn’t disguised his disappointment as well as he’d hoped.
‘Yes, she is. But she said she felt a bit off colour on the weekend so she’s been designated as our runner. I decided, just as a precaution, to reduce her patient contact today. Just in case she has a virus and is contagious.’
Richard wanted to cross-examine Lynne as to what exactly was the matter with Jo but decided to find out for himself later. He’d attempt to catch up with her at some stage during the day and if that didn’t happen, he’d call by her house after work. Maybe take some food. Yes, that was what he would do.
Lynne looked at him expectantly. He tried to look interested but not overly concerned.
‘Your runner?’ The question was in neutral territory. Richard hadn’t heard that term used to describe the duties of a nurse before and was genuinely interested.
‘I guess we use the term in the same way “girl Friday” is used in an office. She runs messages, does odd jobs, that sort of thing. She’s doing an inventory of our storeroom at the moment.’
‘Oh.’ He paused and Lynne looked at him questioningly. ‘We’d better get on with the round, then.’
The ward round went smoothly but took a little longer than usual because Lynne spent extra time explaining certain things to Tracey. Richard only glimpsed Joanna in passing a couple of times and on both occasions she had her head down and appeared not to notice him. He couldn’t help thinking something was wrong and he wondered if he was to blame.
After the round he had a couple of referrals from other wards to follow up, which he set off to do mid-morning, and when he finished close to lunchtime he headed for the canteen. He bought his lunch and stayed half an hour but there was no sign of Joanna. Of course, at five o’clock when his afternoon clinic wound up, her shift would have finished and he lamented the fact he’d not even said hello to Jo over the full duration of her working day.
It was after six when he completed his paperwork and was ready to go home. He realised how hungry he was when his stomach began to rumble so he walked home briskly to collect his car and drove to one
of his favourite eateries, The Station Café, and emerged with a double serving of herbed lamb cutlets and three different kinds of salad. He hoped Joanna hadn’t eaten already because he was looking forward to sharing a meal and part of the evening with her.
He parked in the street because he knew there was only space for one car in the short driveway off the lane. When he let himself in the gate he could see that Joanna was home because the television and lights were on. As he approached the back patio door he could see no sign of Joanna, though.
He knocked.
No answer.
He hammered on the door and called out but there was still no sign of life.
Maybe she’d gone out and left the television on.
As he turned to leave he heard movement, the noise of the TV silenced and Joanna appeared, damp and wrapped in a towelling robe. She eased the slider open just enough for her to talk to him but it looked like she had no intention of inviting him in.
He held up the bags of food as a peace offering.
‘From The Station Café. I hope you’re hungry.’
She still didn’t open the door.
‘I’m sorry, Richard, but I’ve already eaten and what I really need is an early night. I haven’t been sleeping well over the last couple of nights.’ She hesitated. ‘I just need to be by myself.’
She definitely did look tired…and pale…and unwell.
‘What’s the matter, Jo? Are you sick?’
Her mouth set in a thin line and she shook her head.
‘Really, I’m just tired and I…’ She yawned and rubbed her reddened eyes. Had she been crying? Why had she suddenly closed herself off from him when he’d thought their relationship was beginning to blossom? She’d at least been friendly towards him during the few times they’d been together over the past couple of weeks. He’d been careful not to encroach too much on her personal space and he’d intentionally let her set the pace.
Which for him, at times, had been painfully slow.
Had she changed her mind?
‘Maybe we can have dinner together another evening.’ Her expression was unconvincing. ‘If you let me know. Give me some notice.’ She attempted a smile but didn’t quite pull it off.
‘I’m sorry.’ She paled, her hand moved to her stomach and then she closed the door and walked away from him.
There was definitely something wrong but he knew how stubborn she could be. If she didn’t want to talk about it, there was nothing he could do to help.
* * *
Joanna had felt queasy all day but she suspected it had nothing to do with her pregnancy and more to do with stress. She’d repeated the test that morning, this time staring defiantly at the little window that showed the result and the second line had started to appear after about thirty seconds. She’d also noticed her breasts had begun to tingle and she seemed to be peeing more often. And as for her mental state…She felt permanently on the verge of tears, totally confused as to whether she was pleased or distraught about her condition and coming to the conclusion it was a mix of both.
She needed to tell Richard, but she wasn’t ready now. During her shift she’d intentionally avoided any contact with him and when he’d arrived on her doorstep she’d felt like pleading with him to simply go away and leave her alone. Although she’d not followed her impulse to turn him away, she suspected Richard knew she wasn’t her normal, happy, cope-with-anything-and-everything self.
But she definitely wasn’t ready.
She needed time to think things through.
‘When all else fails, have a cup of tea,’ she muttered as she boiled the kettle and made herself a strong, sweet brew. Then she turned the television onto a chat show she usually found both funny and entertaining. The regular music segment was on and this week it was a jazz band. The musicians were playing a foot-tapping contemporary number as backing for a beautiful, young female singer.
It reminded her how quickly the concert was approaching. The final rehearsal was less than a week away. Not long, but it would give her an incentive to try and sort out the turmoil in her mind.
She would tell Richard about her pregnancy on Easter Sunday. On their dinner date.
Yes, that’s what she would do—tell him after the concert.
* * *
The concert was a sell-out and, strangely, Richard felt a little nervous. The show was scheduled to begin at seven-thirty and the performers had been told to arrive at least two hours early. Richard had offered to drive Joanna to the town hall and she’d been sitting next to him in his car for the last ten minutes, gazing out the window and biting her lip. He wondered if she was suffering pre-performance jitters as well. He pulled up at traffic lights as they changed to orange.
‘How are you feeling?’ he enquired.
‘Okay.’ She shifted her gaze briefly but then resumed looking out the window.
‘You look great.’
Male members of the hospital staff who were performing had been instructed to wear black trousers and a white shirt and, for the women, their uniform for the night was a long black skirt and white top.
Joanna looked gorgeous. She was wearing a silky culotte-style, ankle-length skirt and a sheer long-sleeved blouse over a lacy white camisole that was clearly visible through the almost transparent fabric of her top. Since they’d not had a full dress rehearsal, the outfit was new to Richard—and the whole package took his breath away. She looked so feminine and elegant and sensual all at the same time.
‘Thanks.’
She ran her fingers through her hair, which was now a couple of centimetres long and growing back thicker and darker than ever. Although the elfin style suited her, Richard was looking forward to longer locks that he could run his own fingers through.
In fact, he was full of hope that they would formalise a reconciliation when he took Jo out to dinner the following night. He hoped she’d be more relaxed by then and that the coolness that had descended like a sudden winter chill when he’d picked her up would dissipate when the mood of excited anticipation changed once the concert was behind them.
‘You still okay for tomorrow night?’
The way she was behaving towards him at the moment made him wonder if she might have changed her mind.
She smiled but it looked forced.
‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it.’
By that time they’d arrived at the venue of the concert and parked in an area designated for performers in the public reserve across the road.
Richard hoisted his saxophone out of the back, locked up the car and they headed towards the hall. In the foyer, they caught up with a group of chattering nurses from one of the general medical wards, which signalled the end of any chance of one-to-one conversation. Joanna seemed to disappear into the middle of the group and before Richard realised she was gone he was being corralled by Jodie Francis into the area on the stage designated for the band. With the twenty-voice female choir, the band was to stay on stage for the whole show. Individual performers would come and go and the poignant, happy-sad and sometimes funny video footage would be played in two blocks—one just before intermission and the other at the conclusion. Although he’d only seen parts of the film, Richard had been impressed. Lorraine and Steve had done an excellent job.
The next hour and a half dragged and, after two cups of tea, half a ham sandwich, a quick run through a number that had been included at the last minute and the interminable prattle of Jodie Francis, Richard was relieved when the call for silence was finally made. As the curtain gracefully rose, the silence was broken by a ‘squeaky wheel’ sound coming from the side of the stage.
‘Daisy?’
A loud, clear voice, without an owner, added to the suspense.
‘Daisy!’ the voice boomed, as a clown zigzagged his way onto the stage on a rickety old tandem bicycle.
‘Where are you, Daisy?’
A girl of about fourteen or fifteen, who Richard knew was a survivor of childhood leukaemia, heavily made up and weari
ng a Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz style dress sidled onto the stage.
That was the cue for the band to softly play the opening bars of ‘Bicycle Built for Two’. The volume of the music gradually increased as the clown began to serenade the teenager and then the choir joined in for the chorus.
When the song finished the audience burst into rapturous applause and the mood was set for the rest of the evening—one of light-hearted, fun-filled family entertainment.
The next few hours flew by with a mix of music, song, laughs and film. From the audience response, one of the most popular segments was the video footage of the children in the hospital wards. The capacity crowd was rapt, from Karen’s lively little group of toddlers, to a spectacular solo from Danny Sims, a segment of fragmentary ‘knock-knock’ jokes that Steve had somehow melded together perfectly and everything in between.
It was a brilliant performance from a cast of close to a hundred.
Just before the closing video segment, another song had been added to the programme that hadn’t been rehearsed. It wasn’t a melody that lent itself to sax playing so Richard had the luxury of sitting back and watching. He was curious to see who was to be the solo vocalist for the well-known John Lennon song.
He didn’t have to wait very long.
Considerable ceremony was made of hauling an antique rocking chair onto the stage. A woman carrying a small child of about two or three walked, barefoot and draped in a lacy sunshine-yellow crocheted shawl, onto centre stage. She sat down and began to rock slowly, her total attention focused on the child.
A moment later the band began to play to the rhythm of the mesmerising movement and the woman began to sing.
The audience was totally silent as, in a pure, uplifting voice Joanna sang the simple, moving lullaby. It told about a father’s love for his son; his impatience in wanting the boy to come of age; and his promise to guide the child through his life’s journey, whatever happened.
He knew that Joanna was singing not only for the child sitting, enraptured, on her knee…but for him…and Sam, their beautiful, beautiful boy.
How To Save a Marriage in a Million Page 14