His Pretend Wife

by Lucy Gordon

  The doors opened, the corridor swallowed her up. She was gone. Suddenly Elinor was full of fear. She had longed for this moment, and now it was here she faced the reality she’d avoided before. She might never see Hetta alive again. This was make or break.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she whispered. ‘Hetta-Hetta-’

  ‘You’ve done everything for her that you can,’ Andrew said. He’d been walking behind them. ‘Now you have to trust someone else.’

  ‘I do, I do trust you,’ she said swiftly. ‘But she’s my baby, it’s been just the two of us all her life.’

  ‘What about her father?’

  ‘I divorced Tom Landers soon after she was born and I haven’t seen him since. Nor do I want to. It’s just Hetta and me. If she dies, there’s nothing left for me-nothing, nothing! No hope, or happiness, or anything to believe in. Without her, there’s no reason to go on.’

  As if in a dream he said, ‘And yet it is possible to survive terrible grief. Even if all happiness has died, you can find a way to go on.’

  There was a strange note in his voice that told her the words were wrenched from the depths of his own heart. Her head jerked up. Looking straight into his eyes, she saw there everything he’d tried to deny. He’d known her from the first moment. Of course he had.

  He strove to recover, engulfing her hands in his strong ones. ‘Trust me,’ he said firmly. ‘I will always do everything I can for her-and for you.’

  Abruptly he dropped her hands and stepped back. ‘I’ll go and get scrubbed up. My assistant does the first part, and they’ll need me in about half an hour.’ He met her eyes again. ‘I’ll bring her back to you. I promise.’

  He walked away without another word. Elinor watched him go, pressing her hands to her mouth, biting back the words she wanted to cry out.

  Don’t remember that you offered me the best of yourself, and I threw it back at you. Don’t remember that I murdered all happiness for you. I didn’t know that until this moment.

  She pulled herself together. That was years ago. They were different people, and Andrew hadn’t reacted to her because their past was unimportant to him. And that was right, because only Hetta mattered now.

  Hours passed. Elinor was oblivious to them although she later learned the operation had taken two and a half hours. But minutes were different. She felt every second of every endless minute.

  Outside the windows the darkness began to turn to grey as the night passed. She didn’t see it, nor the opening of the door. She’d gone too far into another world where there was only suffering and hope, and was aware of nothing until a cup of tea appeared on the low table before her, and Andrew sat down in a nearby chair. He was still in his operating clothes.

  ‘All done,’ he said briefly. ‘It went like a dream. She should make a complete recovery.’

  ‘Really? Honestly?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say so if it wasn’t true.’

  Elinor buried her face in her hands and sat shaking in silence. He sipped his tea, pretending not to notice.

  ‘Can I go to her?’ she asked, raising her head at last.

  ‘In a minute. They’re taking her into Intensive Care, and you can go there and be with her when she comes round.’

  ‘Did you really let her keep that smelly old toy all the time?’

  He shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be practical. But I never distress a child by saying so. I tell them what they want to hear, take the toy away when they’ve gone under, then make sure it’s with them when they wake up. It’s a deception, but it makes them happy and, I believe, helps them pull through.’

  ‘You must have a gift for children.’

  He shrugged. ‘Not really. It’s just a trick Elmer taught me. Drink your tea, and then I’ll take you to her. Have you got strong nerves?’ He shot out the question abruptly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ll be shocked by the sight. She’s attached to a dozen machines and they look terrifying, but they’re there to help her. When she wakes up don’t let her see you’re upset. Bursting into tears is the worst possible thing for her.’

  ‘I don’t burst into tears,’ Elinor said quietly. ‘I did when she first became ill. Not any more.’

  ‘Of course. I shouldn’t have said that to you,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She wanted to say that he had nothing to be sorry for, but he’d already risen and was walking away, calling, ‘Come along,’ over his shoulder.

  A young nurse admitted them to the intensive care unit and led them to a bed in the far corner. Despite her brave words Elinor experienced a reaction when she saw Hetta, lying still, attached to what seemed like a dozen machines. For a moment she couldn’t move while she fought back the tears.

  ‘Steady,’ Andrew said quietly beside her. ‘Take a deep breath.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said at last. ‘It’s just-her colour-’ Hetta was a cross between yellow and grey.

  ‘Everyone is that colour at this stage,’ Andrew said. ‘I know it looks bad, but it’s not worrying. Come over and let me explain the machines, then they won’t seem so bad. These monitor her heartbeat, her blood pressure, the amount of painkiller she’s being given. This one is feeding her through a drip, this one is giving her a blood transfusion.’

  ‘That pipe fixed in her mouth-?’

  ‘It goes to this machine here that’s doing her breathing for her. Soon she’ll be ready to come off it and take control of her own breathing.’

  He went on talking, and Elinor lost track of the individual words. What continued to reach her was the quiet kindliness of his voice, calming her fears, offering her the equivalent of a steadying hand.

  But suddenly his voice grew sharper as he demanded, ‘Where’s Samson?’

  ‘Who?’ The young nurse was staring as if he’d gone crazy.

  ‘Samson. He’s a toy bear. He must be here when she wakes up. Call the operating theatre. Find out what they did with him.’ He was rapping out commands now.

  The nurse made the call and elicited the information that Samson had been put aside and gone missing.

  ‘Tell them to find him or heads will roll,’ Andrew snapped.

  ‘But, sir-’

  ‘I promised that child, and if the promise is broken it could impede her recovery. I don’t intend that to happen. Understood?’

  The nurse threw him an alarmed look and turned back to the phone.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Andrew told Elinor. ‘This will get sorted.’

  Samson arrived a few minutes later, much the worse for wear, having fallen on the floor and been kicked into a corner by the busy operating staff. Andrew eyed him, recognising the impossibility of putting this filthy object into Hetta’s arms.

  ‘Nurse, have you got some disinfectant soap?’ he asked. ‘Strong.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Get it, please.’

  The nurse hurried back with the soap, but was immediately summoned to another bed. Her face said the washing of toys wasn’t part of her job on such a high-tension ward.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Elinor said.

  ‘There’s a wash basin attached to the wall over there,’ Andrew said. ‘You can keep Hetta in your sights all the time.’

  She hurried across and got to work on Samson, who rapidly became his original bright yellow colour. Even his daft smile seemed to have brightened. As she worked Elinor sometimes glanced over to Hetta, where Andrew was still checking the machines. He seemed satisfied, she noted with relief. Then he looked up, saw her watching, gave a brief nod and strode off.

  Elinor crept back to Hetta’s side, clutching the damp toy. One of the nurses produced a chair for her. Then there was a light touch on her shoulder. It was another nurse, holding something out to her.

  ‘It belongs to Mr Blake’s secretary,’ she said. ‘She keeps it in the office. He said to lend it to you.’

  It was a hair-dryer. He’d even thought of that.

  Elinor turned the dryer onto Samson until he was bo
ne-dry, then slipped him gently under Hetta’s hand. At once the little fingers flexed and tightened around him, although she gave no other sign of life.

  Time ticked past. Hetta lay motionless, tiny, seemingly fixed like this for ever.

  Andrew arrived again and spoke to the nurse. ‘Let’s see if she can breathe by herself. Would you mind standing back, please?’ This to Elinor.

  She got out of their way and watched tensely as the great tube was untied and drawn out of Hetta’s mouth. There was a moment when the world seemed to stand still, then her chest heaved and she gave a big sigh.

  ‘Excellent,’ Andrew said. ‘Couldn’t be better. Mrs Landers, you should go and have some breakfast.’

  ‘How can I leave her?’

  ‘She’s passed the first milestone successfully, and you’ll do better by her if you keep your own strength up. There’s an all-night canteen on the top floor. Go and eat. I don’t want you fainting under my feet.’

  Having barked at her, he strode out, leaving her with only an impression of how exhausted he’d looked after being up all night, and the day was only just starting.

  She didn’t know if he managed to grab a nap somewhere, but he looked in at about four-hour intervals after that, and was there when Hetta finally opened her eyes.

  ‘’Lo, Mummy.’

  ‘Hallo, darling.’ But Hetta’s eyes had already closed again. ‘Darling,’ she repeated urgently.

  ‘Leave her,’ Andrew said. ‘That’s as good as you can hope for now.’

  He left. After another hour Hetta stirred again. This time she looked at her mother, smiled and fell back to sleep. The day wore on. It was late afternoon before Hetta awoke properly.

  ‘’Lo, Mummy,’ she said again, but this time she sounded brighter.

  Elinor slipped to the floor so that her face should be closer to Hetta’s.

  ‘Darling, welcome back.’

  ‘Have I been away?’

  ‘Yes, but you’re back now, thank God.’

  Hetta looked around her anxiously. ‘Where’s Samson?’

  ‘He’s here,’ Elinor said, lifting him to within her view. ‘You were cuddling him.’

  ‘But that’s not Samson,’ Hetta protested.

  ‘It is, darling.’

  ‘It isn’t, it isn’t.’ Hetta was becoming distressed. A nurse anxiously tried to soothe her, but tears began to roll down Hetta’s face. Elinor’s attempts to reassure her only made the child cry bitterly. This was the worst possible thing for her wounded chest, and Elinor looked around wildly, desperate for help.

  ‘Hey, what’s all this?’ Andrew said, appearing out of the blue, it seemed to Elinor.

  ‘I want Samson,’ Hetta wept. ‘You promised.’

  ‘And I always keep my promises,’ Andrew said, lounging by her bed, apparently at ease, although his skin was the colour of parchment and there were black shadows under his eyes. ‘Samson’s been with you all the time-well, almost all. You see, while we were making you as good as new, we thought we’d do the same for him. So we tidied him up and gave him a bath, which he badly needed.’

  Hetta’s eyes were on him, and she’d stopped crying. ‘He doesn’t like being bathed,’ she said.

  ‘So I gather. His language was frightful. It made the nurses blush.’

  Hetta giggled.

  ‘But it’s still Samson,’ Andrew said. ‘You can see by that little tear in his ear.’

  ‘That was Daisy’s cat,’ Hetta whispered.

  ‘Uh-huh! I gather it was quite a fight. So you see, it’s Samson all right, so why don’t you just tuck him up against you-like that-and-?’

  Hetta was already asleep.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Elinor said. ‘How did you ever-?’

  ‘One moment, please, Mrs Landers. Nurse-’

  He became deep in discussion with the nurse for several minutes, and when he’d finished the moment had passed. Elinor had turned back to Hetta, watching her with loving, obsessive eyes, and Andrew slipped away quietly without disturbing her.

  For the first week Elinor barely left Hetta. When she needed sleep there was a side room with basic beds, where she would snatch a nap before hurrying back.

  At first she watched her with incredulous delight, hardly able to believe that this delicate little creature had survived such a massive onslaught.

  Yet Hetta’s frailty was increasingly an illusion. For the first time in two years she had a strong heart, working normally. For days she was woozy and sometimes confused from the massive anaesthetic, but the signs of improvement were coming fast, and already her colour was better.

  ‘She’s our star patient,’ said the nurse in Intensive Care. ‘She took over her own breathing at the first possible moment, and since then she’s done everything right on time.’

  And Elinor was feeling cheerful enough to smile and say, ‘I’ll swear it’s the first time in her life she’s done what anyone wanted without argument.’

  Hetta giggled. ‘I’m a devil, aren’t I, Mummy?’

  ‘I thought you were asleep, you cheeky little madam.’

  As she came off the machines she was moved into a larger ward, where there were other children, and promptly brightened life with a feud with a little boy in the next bed. Elinor began returning to the boarding house to sleep. Gradually she found she could leave Hetta without worrying if she would still be alive on her return.

  Best of all, Hetta’s wicked sense of humour had returned, and she liked nothing so much as to tease her mother. The long wound in her chest, so terrifying to Elinor, filled the child with ghoulish pride.

  ‘Isn’t it great?’ she demanded when the dressing had been removed and Andrew was examining the dark red line.

  ‘If you like that kind of thing,’ Elinor said faintly.

  ‘But we do, don’t we?’ Andrew said to Hetta.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Hetta said firmly. ‘Honestly, Mummy, it was a great big electric saw-’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s how we get through the breastbone to find the heart,’ Andrew explained. ‘You can’t do this operation by playing peek-a-boo through the ribs.’

  Hetta giggled and she and Andrew exchanged the glances of conspirators. It wasn’t lost on Elinor that the nurse, standing deferentially behind him, was staring at him with astonishment.

  As he walked out she followed him quickly. ‘What do you mean by talking like that with a child?’ she demanded.

  ‘She loves it. It’s adults who are squeamish, not children.’ The friendly ease he’d shown the child was gone, and he was tense again. ‘Good day, Mrs Landers.’

  Elinor had to admit that he was right. Hetta was having the time of her life. In no time she’d become the leader of the children’s ward, in the heart of any anarchy that was going. To Elinor it was a joy to see her being occasionally naughty. It was so long since she’d had the energy.

  Between her and Andrew there had developed a perfect understanding, and she called him Andrew, with his encouragement. To the little girl he wasn’t the figure of awe he presented to his staff. He was the friend who’d understood about Samson, and would understand anything she said to him. So to him she confided her nightmares. He listened, nodding in perfect comprehension. Elinor came upon them one day in time to hear him say, ‘Do the rocks ever actually fall on you, or does it just look as if they might?’

  ‘I keep thinking they’re going to, but I wake up first.’

  ‘Well, it’s only the anaesthetic-you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘After all this time?’

  ‘Do you know how much we had to give you to knock you out for a process as big as this?’

  ‘How much?’ she demanded, fascinated.

  He made a wide gesture with his hands. ‘This much.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘So you don’t get rid of it all at once. It works its way out gradually, and it gives you funny thoughts and dreams. But that’s all it is. So the next time you see those rocks, just tell them you’re not s
cared of them, because they’re not real.’

  Hetta nodded, reassured.

  ‘Why didn’t she tell me she’s having nightmares?’ Elinor demanded of Andrew outside the ward.

  ‘Because she knows you’ve been through a lot and she’s protecting you from any more.’

  ‘She told you that?’

  ‘She didn’t have to. Don’t you realise that she’s looking after you as much as you’re looking after her? She’s very like you in many ways.’

  Then something seemed to occur to him, and he bid her goodnight. He often did that when their paths crossed, and it saddened her.

  After the day of the operation, when they’d made contact, she’d somehow believed that soon they would talk about the past, and how they had met again. Perhaps she would have a chance to tell him that she was sorry, and ask his forgiveness. But as the days until Hetta was discharged from hospital narrowed down to four, then three, she realised that it wasn’t going to happen.

  And after all, she mused, why should it? Their paths had crossed by accident, and doubtless he would be glad to see the back of her. She probably embarrassed him.

  But she would always be grateful to him. Theirs had been a sad, stormy relationship that had ended in anger, but now they’d been given a postscript that softened the bitterness.

  She doubted that his bitterness had lasted very long. She knew he’d made a success of his life, just as he’d always vowed. She pictured him married to a brilliant society woman, someone whose sophistication could match his own. How glad he must be to have escaped herself.

  As for her, why should she be bitter? It was she who had injured him, and if she’d paid for it with years of disappointment and disaster, perhaps that was only justice.

  Elinor’s money was running dangerously low, and she started working again, accepting freelance beauty assignments that didn’t take her too far away. She had just completed a lucrative job and was feeling cheerful as she headed for the hospital in the early evening. This was Hetta’s last night, and tomorrow she would be coming home to the boarding house.

  She found Hetta in high spirits, competing with the boy opposite to see who could put their tongue out furthest.

  ‘I should think they’ll be glad to see the back of you tomorrow,’ she said comically, sitting on Hetta’s bed.