A Courageous Doctor

by Alison Roberts

  Hugo hesitated for just a moment before climbing out of his vehicle. He needed just one more reminder that Maggie couldn’t possibly be anything more than a bonus before he could prepare himself to respond to the cheerful greeting he knew he was about to receive. Maggie was a wild card that added zest to a game. Added spice, like a few drops of her favourite chilli sauce to the glass of tomato juice that was Hugo’s life. The awful metaphor made Hugo smile. Or did the wry amusement stem from the tiny seed of a notion that he and Maggie could be more than friends?

  An entertaining notion, yes, but totally impractical. Hugo only had to compare Maggie to Joan to reinforce how ludicrous such a notion was, and that was precisely what he found himself doing over the next few days.

  Monday was a busy day for both the hospital and the ambulance service. Far too busy to provide any opportunity for Hugo to follow through on his plan to break routine and surprise Joan with an unexpected invitation. Two deliveries, one requiring assistance with forceps, kept both Joan and the other midwife, Sue, under pressure. Maggie dealt with a diabetic in a hypoglycaemic crisis, an epileptic with uncontrollable seizures, two episodes of chest pain and an elderly woman with a fractured neck of femur. More than once, Hugo glanced out from a window of the hospital to see Maggie at the wheel of an ambulance, beacons already flashing as she headed out, the siren kicking in when the vehicle was just far enough away from the hospital not to disturb its inpatients. Maggie was off, full tilt, to deal with another emergency.

  And Joan was coping with the potential difficulty of the young mother in labour with her usual efficiency. Awareness of the implications seemed to reinforce her calm approach and she was only too happy to call on Hugo’s expertise and abdicate her position of being in control if necessary. Even as Hugo applied the forceps and helped the infant into the world, he was aware of a brief thought about Maggie. She was out there, somewhere, faced with heaven only knew what kind of problems and she would be coping, somehow, with whatever resources she could summon.

  Joan’s pleasure in the successful outcome of her case was perfectly sincere and professional, with just a hint of her own joy in handling a new baby. Maggie, on the other hand, was positively crowing with pleasure at the transformation IV glucose had produced in her combative and difficult diabetic patient. Joan still looked as clean and tidy as she had when she’d come on duty. Maggie’s shirt-tail was hanging below the polar fleece vest she wore and her boots were scuffed and muddy.

  Hugo almost tripped over those boots on Tuesday morning as he went to let the dogs out. The vest was lying over the arm of the couch and Maggie’s stethoscope had been abandoned on the kitchen bench. Items of underwear drooped from the heated towel rails in the bathroom and Hugo was quite convinced now that the bottles and pots of feminine necessities on the window-sill were breeding. Joan’s bathroom never looked like this. Not that that smooth blonde hair would ever need control from any kind of professional product, but if it did, Hugo could be absolutely certain that the container would be well hidden away. Hugo was smiling, however, as he dipped a finger into the little orange pot. He liked this fudge stuff. He never had to push his hair out of his eyes these days and it saved the hassle of having to fit such frequent haircuts into his schedule. His introduction to product was another little bonus of having Maggie around.

  Joan wasn’t at work on Tuesday and Hugo didn’t have the time to make contact, being so busy fitting in the follow-ups on all the new inpatients Maggie had provided the previous day on top of his day at the medical centre. Joan had apparently kept herself busy at home because she had a new picture to show Hugo on Wednesday. A watercolour of autumn trees in Arrowtown.

  ‘It’s superb,’ Hugo told her. ‘You’ll have to put it in the exhibition.’

  It was a lovely picture. Muted but very attractive. A bit like Joan’s character, really. Hugo could just imagine what the result might be if Maggie was let loose with paints and a canvas. The picture would be some kind of abstract—-a kaleidoscope of colour and shape that would be vibrant but definitely not restful to have on one’s wall. And Maggie would never attend a painting class as Joan did religiously every Wednesday evening, which precluded any point in issuing an invitation that day.

  Thursday provided the most obvious comparison between the personalities of the two women. Not that it was any kind of competition, Hugo reminded himself. It was simply a means of identifying what he was looking for in a partner. A reinforcement of what he knew was the direction he needed to take.

  Maggie had hurtled forth, under lights and siren, to bring in a woman who had gone into sudden and unexpected labour at thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy. Marie Jessop had noticed a slight spotting that morning but had called an ambulance when a sudden rush of blood had accompanied an unmistakable contraction. The bleeding had stopped by the time Maggie and Jason delivered Marie to the labour room but the contractions were now five minutes apart.

  Joan and Hugo were both concerned about the woman’s condition and were disconcerted by the additional family members accompanying the ambulance crew. Marie’s four-year-old twin sons, Christopher and Max, were trotting behind the stretcher. Two-year-old Michelle was sitting on her mother’s feet.

  ‘We couldn’t leave them at home,’ Maggie said. ‘Dad’s a truck driver and is on the road for the day and the neighbour who usually babysits was out.’

  Joan had a hospital gown ready for Marie and monitors set up to record the foetal heart rate and uterine contractions. She took the extras in her stride although her tone was slightly resigned.

  ‘Christopher and Max can sit in the waiting room,’ she said. ‘There’s plenty of toys and I’m sure they can look after Michelle until we can find a staff member who’s available.’

  ‘No!’ the boys said loudly.

  Maggie lifted Michelle from the end of the stretcher.

  ‘We want to stay with Mummy,’ Max added.

  Hugo was helping to transfer Marie to the bed.

  ‘Contractions are five minutes apart,’ Maggie told him. ‘And Marie’s had good effect from breathing entonox. Estimated blood loss was about two hundred mils. Nothing since. Vital signs are all within normal limits.’

  ‘I told Dave not to go to Invercargill today.’ Marie sounded distressed. ‘I just knew something was going to go wrong.’

  Maggie took the mouthpiece off the portable entonox cylinder. ‘He’s on his way back but it’ll be an hour or so before he gets here.’

  She attached it to the tubing on the large cylinder in the labour room and pressed it into Marie’s hand as her agonised expression heralded another contraction. Jason was trying to push the stretcher from the room but was being hampered by the two small boys trying to climb aboard.

  ‘Shell had a ride. We want one, too.’

  ‘Do you want a hand getting Marie into a gown?’ Maggie asked Joan.

  ‘No. We’ll manage. You could take the children down to the waiting room if you like. That would be a help.’

  Marie spat out her mouthpiece. ‘Can’t they stay here? I don’t want them where I can’t see them.’

  ‘I’ll get the toy box from the waiting room,’ Hugo decided. ‘They can play in the corner until we get sorted out.’

  ‘I’ll get out of the way,’ Jason said. He took the entonox cylinder from Maggie. ‘I’ll sort the gear and get the truck cleaned up.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Maggie had the feeling she’d better stick around for a few minutes at least. Joan was not looking pleased at having the children around. She pulled the curtain, screening the bed as she helped Marie into a hospital gown. Christopher stood on tiptoe beside the handbasin on the wall, pulled the handle hard and sent cold water gushing out with enough force to spray both himself and his brother. They both giggled.

  ‘I’ll get the toys, shall I?’ Maggie offered.

  ‘Thanks.’ Hugo wasn’t at all sure how to deal with the impending chaos. The last child in a delivery room under his management had been young Henry Cross, and tha
t had been fraught until Joan had taken charge. Marie’s midwife had too much on her mind at present to deal with disruptive children and Hugo knew it would be virtually impossible to find any extra staff who weren’t busy. They were stretched for nursing cover anyway and Joan hadn’t expected to be in for anything other than a check on Monday’s new arrivals who needed attention prior to discharge.

  An examination showed Marie’s labour to be progressing rapidly but normally despite the untoward beginnings, and Hugo was confident that Joan would be able to manage the birth. He was not unduly concerned about the baby’s early arrival either but would need to stay in case of any problems. Joan looked less calm than usual, probably because of the distractions in the room. Christopher was playing peek-a-boo with the curtain now and making Michelle shriek with laughter. Max was wriggling under the chair, hoping to catch his mother’s attention. He was highly unlikely to be successful.

  ‘I need to push,’ Marie gasped. ‘I want to sit up more.’

  Hugo helped her change position. Joan cast a despairing glance at the children and took action. She pulled Max out from under the chair by his legs and stood him up. She grabbed Christopher’s hand and marched both boys to the corner of the room where Maggie had just deposited a large box.

  ‘Sit here quietly and play with the toys,’ she ordered. ‘If you’re good you’ll get an ice block.’ She leaned down until she was at eye level with the twins. ‘If you’re not good, you’ll get a smack.’

  Hugo’s jaw sagged slightly but fortunately Marie was far too absorbed with what was going on in her body to have overheard the threat, and it certainly had the desired effect on the boys who sat down hurriedly with horrified expressions. Even Michelle co-operated and crawled over to join her brothers. Maggie, who was in the process of pulling some toys from the box, raised an eyebrow as she caught Hugo’s glance but said nothing.

  The background noise of the children’s activity accompanied Marie’s next contraction and grew steadily. Michelle was happily hammering at a row of wooden pegs and Max was driving a toy truck up Christopher’s back. Joan’s face was grim as she stepped away from her patient for a second.

  ‘Could you, please, keep them a bit quieter?’ she snapped at Maggie.

  The next thing Hugo saw was Maggie with Michelle in her arms and a finger to her lips, leading the two boys from the room. They followed with exaggerated tiptoeing steps, their fingers on their own lips and a look of delighted conspiracy on their faces.

  For a while, the medical staff all forgot about both the paramedic and the children as they focussed on bringing Marie’s new daughter into the world safely. The baby was fine, the third stage of labour quite brief and only some minor stitching was required for Marie. It was as the final stitch was tied that they began wondering what had happened to the rest of Marie’s offspring.

  ‘Maggie will be looking after them,’ Hugo assured Marie. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and see where they’ve got to.’

  Jason was alone in the duty room of the ambulance station. ‘I haven’t seen her,’ he told Hugo. ‘And we haven’t been paged for another job.’ He grinned. ‘She could be anywhere—especially if she’s got a bunch of kids to play with.’

  Hugo went outside to check the small playground on the other side of the outpatient department but there was no sign of anybody. Thinking of the tasks piling up for him in the various wards with increasing urgency made the search irritating. It was just like Maggie to follow through on some plan of her own without considering its impact on others. And it certainly wasn’t the first time she had got into trouble with children.

  Remembering the sight of the small boys tiptoeing after her from the labour room brought back a more distant memory of the day Maggie had absconded with her whole kindergarten class in tow. Where had she gone that day? Hugo snorted with unamused laughter. She had taken them all home and fed them every scrap of food she could find in her pantry. He changed direction and headed for the hospital kitchens.

  Sure enough, there they were. Ethel, the hospital’s chief cook, was smiling at the scene in the corner of her domain. Christopher and Max were standing on chairs at a table, stirring something in a large basin. Maggie had Michelle propped on one hip as she upended a box of chocolate chips into the bowl.

  ‘We need lots of chocolate,’ Hugo heard her say firmly. ‘It’s good for you.’

  ‘Only in small doses.’

  Maggie’s gaze lifted sharply and her delighted grin welcomed Hugo into the small adventure she had provided for the children. She had a dusting of flour on her face. And in her hair and all over the sticky-faced toddler in her arms. No doubt ice blocks had preceded the biscuit-making venture.

  ‘You’ve got a new sister,’ Hugo told the twins. ‘And Mummy wants to show her to you.’ He raised an eyebrow at Maggie. ‘Mummy had no idea where you all were.’

  ‘Oop, sorry.’ Maggie rubbed at the flour on her nose. ‘We only got the idea to make bikkies after we sneaked in here to find an ice block.’

  ‘We don’t want to see Mummy,’ Max informed Hugo. ‘We want to stay with Maggie.’

  Chris nodded solemnly. ‘We don’t want a smack,’ he added.

  ‘You won’t get a smack,’ Hugo promised. Of course they wouldn’t. Joan wouldn’t have even made the threat unless she had been under extreme duress. Hugo knew how good Joan was with children. He also knew that she would use any reasonable means to keep order when necessary and that was a positive attribute. Maggie’s skills at providing alluring entertainment and being an irresistible ringleader were ideal for a babysitter or maybe an aunt, but imagine her as a mother! Life would be a total circus.

  ‘We need to go back now,’ he told the children sternly, ‘and visit Mummy. Daddy will be here in a few minutes.’

  ‘We’re almost finished.’ Maggie was apparently going to take the children’s side and undermine Hugo’s authority in spite of his sternness. ‘How about you go and tell Mummy we’ll be in to see her with a cup of tea and a bikkie in half an hour?’

  Michelle had a chubby fistful of Maggie’s hair. She tugged it and Maggie’s nose wrinkled. ‘Ouch!’ She gave the toddler a quick kiss as she disentangled the small hand. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can,’ she promised Hugo. ‘And I’m sure Mummy and Daddy would appreciate a few minutes to themselves.’

  Maggie still had traces of flour in her hair when Hugo saw her again late that day. Very late. It had taken so long to catch up with all his other patients that any opportunity to spend time with Joan had been lost. And now Hugo was too tired to even worry that nearly a week had gone by without the first step of his plan being implemented. Tomorrow wouldn’t work either because Joan was planning an early departure for her weekend in Dunedin. She had taken down many of her paintings from the hospital walls and intended to deliver them to the gallery owner in person.

  She rang Hugo on Friday evening. ‘Mum’s not very well,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to stay on for a week or so. I’ve rung Sue and she’s happy to cover for me. We don’t have any scheduled deliveries coming up.’

  ‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’ The break in Joan’s routine was unusual enough to be disconcerting. ‘Can I help in any way?’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ Joan assured him. ‘I think it’s just a bug but it’s making her arthritis a lot worse. I want to go to the doctor with her and make sure everything possible’s being done.’

  ‘Of course. How did it go at the gallery?’

  ‘It was amazing. He loved the paintings.’ Joan hesitated for a moment. ‘Would you like to come up to Dunedin next weekend?’ she asked. ‘The exhibition is going to be opened on Saturday at five o’clock. Lots of people have been invited and it’s even going to be advertised in the newspaper. It’s really exciting, Hugh.’

  ‘It sounds exciting,’ Hugo agreed. ‘I’m so pleased for you, Joan.’ He glanced over to where Maggie was lying on the floor in front of the fire, one arm over Lass, the other tickling Tuck’s exposed chest. He hadn’t managed to
send any signals via an invitation to Joan. Maybe accepting one from her was an even better idea. Especially when it would involve an overnight stay.

  ‘Saturday, did you say?’ He nodded a second later. ‘Sure. I’d love to come.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SATURDAY’S dawn was advanced well enough to illuminate the heaviest frost of the year so far.

  ‘You’re not planning to drive too early, are you?’ Maggie took another look from the kitchen window as she put her empty plate and coffee-mug into the sink that Hugo had filled with hot, soapy water. ‘The roads will be diabolical.’

  ‘I’ll wait till lunchtime,’ Hugo nodded. ‘It’ll only take four hours or so to get to Dunedin. I’ll still be in plenty of time for the exhibition opening.’

  ‘Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll take good care of your family.’ Maggie took the crust of toast she had saved from her plate and broke it into three pieces. As usual, the dogs were near her feet and she bent down to scratch Lass’s white ear. ‘We’ll have a good time, won’t we, guys?’

  Hugo’s smile was lopsided. He suspected they would probably have a better time than he would. He rinsed the last of the breakfast dishes. At least he could enjoy a morning at home and a walk before he left. Putting the crockery away, Hugo looked up to see Maggie pulling on her coat and gloves. He shook his head.

  ‘It’s too cold out there. Wait for a bit.’ Hugo knew from experience that the deceptively warm-looking pink of the first rays of sunshine were not yet nearly enough to touch the sub-zero temperature outside.

  ‘No way. I’ve never seen a hoar frost before. It might start melting.’