A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh

by Meredith Webber

  ‘He will still have time for you,’ Malik said, as if he’d read her mind.

  And caught something of her feelings, for he put a comforting arm around her shoulders—so much for forgetting about the kiss when just one touch sent her senses spinning—and led her to the car.

  It was a smaller car this time—less intimidating but still a sleek and beautiful vehicle.

  He drove well, not towards the tall towers of the city but on a road curving back from the mountains and around the outer limits of the oasis to where many squat, brown mud buildings stood, many of them with panels of woven leaves forming parts of the walls, all with intricate balustrading around the roofs, where, from the glimpses of greenery she’d glimpsed, there could be gardens.

  ‘This is how we lived, though the leaders of the tribes always had far bigger places—more like forts than houses. And up ahead, where you see the scaffolding, is my new hospital being built.’

  He pulled up on the side of the road so she could see the scaffolding already reaching four or five stories high, and a smaller building at the base of it.

  ‘That’s the old hospital—built by the first oil company that came to work our oilfields. It has been adequate for our needs, with a radiology department, pathology department, two operating theatres, with surgeons and trained theatre staff, and many wards.’

  ‘And your staff?’

  ‘They are mainly expats, but we have local doctors who have trained in the UK, including our chief radiologist. Because of having to bring in most of the staff from outside, English is the common language in the hospital. Some of the registered nurses are locals, but most of them aren’t, although we have developed an in-hospital training system for enrolled nurses and another one for aides. We also have many aides who work as translators for the expats.’

  ‘I imagine that’s important, not to mention easier—having people who can speak to the patients in their own language and carry on proper conversations.’

  ‘You are right, which is why it’s important to get our university up and running. I have some friends working on this, but while flashy hotels remain the priority for spending, it is difficult.’

  She heard him sigh and wanted to reach over and rest her hand on his thigh, but after last night’s kisses, which had left her feeling a bit befuddled, the less she touched him the better.

  Had she really responded so readily?

  Fiercely might be a better description.

  She was considering whether it was a reaction to not having kissed a man for so long, rather than this man in particular, when she realised he was speaking again.

  ‘Many tribal people still use traditional medicine so their doctors have been a wise man or woman in the tribe, who was taught by their predecessor.’

  He paused and turned to look at Lauren.

  ‘And I don’t know whether it was the outdoor life our ancestors led, or if the traditional medicine worked, but apart from accidents—broken limbs and such—most people lived to a good age.’

  ‘The new hospital—will they come to that?’

  ‘I do hope so, if I ever get it finished. I’ve been using my own money, but now Nimr is here, I should be able to get government funding for it. But...’

  ‘But?’ Lauren echoed, as he started the car again and drove towards the buildings.

  ‘Since the discovery of oil and the wealth that came with it, most of the members of the ruling family and those close to them have been travelling to Europe—England and Germany in particular—for their medical needs.’

  ‘Long way to go to see a GP,’ Lauren said, and he smiled.

  ‘Exactly! But that is why my father’s generation has never felt the need to spend money on health care here—’

  ‘When they had access to it overseas!’

  ‘Exactly!’ Malik said. ‘Though the first hospital has problems, as you will see, it was still adequate. The oil men left it to the architects who built their hotel, so although they must have looked at plans of hospitals in other places, they didn’t see the need for separate facilities and wards for men and women and, more specifically, for children.’

  ‘So?’ Lauren asked, guessing there was more.

  He paused. Looking into the future?

  ‘So I built the children’s hospital first, before starting on the big one. We still use the laboratories in the old hospital—they are in good order—but eventually those in the new building will cover both and the old building can be demolished.’

  He’d pulled up at the side of the old building and led the way inside.

  ‘This was originally a grand entrance foyer, like the hotels have, then behind it, to one side, was—well, still is—the reception desk, and on the other side the emergency department. Unfortunately, many people saw this big space as ideal for a market—somewhere to sell their wares to patients and their families or other visitors. So now we use a side entrance for the ED and the main hospital, although some people still try to get in through this maze.

  Lauren looked around. Fans whirred overhead and people milled around the great space, bargaining, shouting, chattering—so much noise and confusion.

  ‘There’s a man selling pomegranates over there!’ Lauren said, indicating the man with a nod of her head.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ Malik said gloomily. ‘We had a patient from Pakistan in here once—many of the oilfield workers are expats—and his visitor was a snake charmer, complete with snake. The problem is, our people are not used to the hospital concept. They are family-oriented, so they want to be close to the patient. Ideally, they would like to stay with the patient in the ward or room, and if they can’t they are likely to camp close by, so the market does a thriving business.’

  ‘And in your new hospital? Will it be different?’ Lauren asked.

  He smiled at her.

  ‘I hope so! My idea is that when it is completed, the old one can be turned into a kind of hotel, where families of the patients can stay free of charge.’

  ‘And the market?’ she asked, still enthralled by the madness of it.

  ‘Will probably remain,’ he said, so gloomily she had to laugh.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ he told her sternly, but she caught the twinkle in his eyes, and laughed some more.

  He led her around to the side entrance, but the tour was perfunctory, little more than hand-waving in one direction or another, rooms and wards labelled but not investigated.

  ‘You’ll see it all eventually,’ he said as they came out through another side door at the other end of the market, ‘but if you decide you want to work, it will be with the children. So now I’ll show you my children’s hospital.’

  And the pride in his voice was enough to tell her it would be very special.

  They walked around to the side of the new building where a gleaming white structure stood.

  Lauren had to blink and look again but, no, her first impression had been right. It looked like a castle from a fairy story, with a big golden dome and tall, slender spires decorated with pink and blue—even what looked like a fort built at one side.

  ‘It’s a hospital?’ she asked, unable to hide the wonderment in her voice.

  Malik paused and turned towards her, guiding her into the shade of a tree where they could talk and see the incredible building.

  ‘We had a sister, Tariq and I, who was very ill from the time she was born. I was too young to know details of her illness, and neither my mother nor my father ever spoke of it, so even later, when I began to study, I couldn’t really work out what it had been.’

  ‘She died?’ Lauren asked, and he nodded.

  ‘But for many years she was in and out of the hospital—which was new then. She was even flown overseas to see specialists. And one time when she was home and we were playing by her bed, and talking with her, she told us how horrible hospitals always looked
and asked if they had to look like that.’

  ‘Poor kid!’ Lauren said, giving in to the need to touch his arm.

  He smiled at her, laid his hand over hers, and continued, ‘So we asked her what a children’s hospital should look like. Tariq was good at drawing and he found paper and coloured pencils and she told him what to draw.’

  ‘And this is it?’ Lauren asked, shaking her head in disbelief that this magic castle could possibly be a hospital.

  Malik smiled.

  ‘It is my memorial to a brave little girl,’ he said, his voice deep with emotion. ‘The original drawing is framed on a wall inside, and we didn’t put it on a mountain-top, as she’d have liked—that was a bit too inconvenient.’

  He smiled again, apparently delighted at her reaction.

  ‘Come, I’ll show you around,’ he said. ‘It’s spread out because with children it really had to be ground floor so the families from out of town can camp close by, so it sometimes seems, at the end of the day, that you’ve walked many miles.’

  * * *

  Was he talking too much because he was worried she might not like his ambitious project?

  But as he led her through the doors and she saw the bright painting of a camel train threading its way around the walls, she couldn’t stop smiling, her face radiating delight as she turned to him.

  ‘It’s fabulous!’ she said, and it took a great deal of will-power to remain all business in the face of her delight. What he’d really have liked to do was take her hand and walk around the walls with her, explaining the intricately woven camel bags hung on the camels and telling her stories of the past.

  Just to see that smile again?

  Of course.

  But also just to be with her as man and woman without all the complications in his life and those he’d forced into hers. To see her smile, and feel the heat inside him that a simple smile could generate—to see where the attraction he knew was between them could lead...

  ‘And this is just the entry,’ he told her. ‘Emergency is through this way.’

  They entered, and he was barely through the door when someone called to him.

  ‘Dr Madani!’

  It was a nurse he knew and trusted, so he headed to the cubicle to see a small boy, about two, lying on the bed.

  ‘A seed of some kind up his left nostril. I don’t want to try to dislodge with the crocodile clips, in case I push it further in.’

  She handed him the otoscope, which was used for both nose and ears, and, after greeting the anxious mother beside the bed with a smile and a brief chat with the small patient, he bent over to have a look.

  Such a young child—they could really only do it under anaesthetic, and he avoided anaesthetising children whenever possible.

  ‘Do you know the trick that sometimes works?’ Lauren said. ‘I saw a doctor do it once and have used it many times since.’

  He smiled at her—he might have known she’d come up with something, for he was beginning to realise that this woman was special in every way.

  And his heart was smiling, too, as if this very ordinary conversation was a personal confirmation of the rightness of their match...

  ‘Do tell,’ he said, and she explained how she could block the free nostril while the mother blew hard into the child’s mouth.

  ‘You’ll have to translate and tell her it might not work, but it’s worth a try before anaesthetic.’

  He explained to the woman, who was reluctant at first, but now Lauren was at the child’s level, stroking his arm and playing with his fingers, the mother agreed.

  And as Lauren pressed the free nostril shut and the mother blew, the seed did come out, to the delight of all.

  ‘I can’t have spent enough time in emergency rooms to have learnt that trick,’ Malik said, when mother and son had departed.

  ‘It’s an old one and a good one, so now you know,’ Lauren told him, her smile again causing a response in his heart.

  He showed Lauren around the wards, which were sparsely occupied.

  ‘Parents are wary about coming to the hospital in case they discover their child will have to stay, even for a short time. It is not their way, but they will learn in time. Attendance in Emergency is doubling every month, and we have arrangements so at least two people—usually the mother and grandmother, or an aunt—can be with any child in the wards at all times.’

  He was leading the way into a wing off the main foyer, nodding and greeting staff as they passed.

  ‘It’s not big enough yet to have designated post-op or ICU wards, but these rooms are set aside for those purposes.’

  He knocked and opened a door into a small, bright room, the two women in it adjusting their head scarves to cover all but their eyes but nodding to him, their eyes telling Lauren they were both smiling, too.

  The patient lay on his back—a small boy about Nim’s age, she guessed. His right foot and lower leg were in a cast and suspended in a cradle above the bed.

  Broken ankle? she wondered, watching Malik as he tickled the boy’s toes to make them wiggle, talking quietly to him at the same time, before turning to speak to the women, presumably about the child’s treatment.

  Although the conversation was going on for some time, now it must be about her, for both women were nodding and smiling in her direction.

  Lauren smiled back and waved to the little boy, who hid his face behind his hands, then waggled a couple of fingers at her as Malik ushered her out of the room.

  ‘I was telling them you are a children’s nurse,’ Malik explained. ‘Abu, our patient, was born with a club foot and although that would have been something he could live with in another age, we now have proper facilities and a paediatric surgeon who will fly in when necessary.’

  ‘Did gentle stretching and a cast soon after birth not help?’ Lauren asked, as she’d assisted in such manoeuvres herself.

  Malik shook his head.

  ‘We didn’t meet Abu until a fortnight ago, when someone persuaded his mother to bring him here. The foot was badly deformed by then because of the way he’d been walking on it and was causing him a lot of pain.’

  ‘Poor kid, but at least they did come, and it won’t be something he has to put up with for the rest of his life.’

  They’d reached an open area, where beds could be separated by curtains. Two young girls in pyjamas, one with a tiara on her head, were playing on the floor in one corner, an array of toys around them.

  ‘I’ve been told this open ward is a mistake for Madan, but children enjoy the company of other children, and I believe that as parents get used to the idea of hospitals, there will be less insistence on being present at all times. Most of the children we’ve had in here are children of expats working here, and if it is a local child then you’ll see the curtains drawn around the bed most of the day and night.’

  ‘Because the women visitors can’t be seen by men who aren’t related?’

  Malik nodded, then shook his head.

  ‘Not that many of the men come to visit—fathers sometimes do but generally it is felt that children’s illness is women’s business.’

  ‘Things aren’t that much different at home,’ Lauren told him. ‘The fathers come because they love their children, but some of them find it very difficult to see their child sick or hurting.’

  Malik nodded.

  ‘Already I would feel that with Nimr,’ he said, sounding as if the thought had surprised him.

  They walked through two more wards, meeting nurses and doctors on the way and stopping to speak to children so Lauren could get some idea of the patients she would have.

  ‘And this is Graeme Stewart,’ Malik said, pausing in front of an older man. ‘I trained under Graeme in London and as he is now semi-retired, he kindly agreed to hold the fort here for me while I sort out the family business.’

 
Lauren smiled at the man, enjoying the still distinctive Scottish burr beneath his English voice.

  ‘You might be coming to work here?” he asked, and Lauren nodded.

  ‘As soon as I know my son is settled in and happy with his carers,’ Lauren told him.

  ‘I will look forward to it. I would like to see more training going on with the young enrolled nurses, and you would be a great help there.’

  The flutter of excitement Lauren felt at getting back to work—of having something normal in her life—must have shown on her face, for Malik said, ‘You love it, don’t you? Nursing?’

  She nodded, unable to deny it, knowing how much she’d missed it in the two years she’d spent running with baby Nim.

  ‘He will be safe if you wish to start immediately,’ Malik said. ‘And he seems happy outside, playing with the animals.’

  ‘He is,’ Lauren replied, although inside she knew she wanted more for him—some other children to join the play so he had the socialisation he’d had at kindy.

  Not that she’d worry Malik with that now, when he obviously had problems of his own.

  ‘And you?’ Malik asked. ‘Are you feeling settled?’

  Lauren laughed.

  ‘Hardly,’ she told him. ‘We’ve been here barely twenty-four hours, but I think when I go back to work, it will seem more normal.’

  Best not to mention that any unsettled feeling she was having was to do with him more than his country.

  ‘That is good,’ he told her, ‘for there is something I must explain. I spoke of our marrying within days of arriving here, but there are problems within our council of elders that must be sorted out. A question of the succession...’

  He spoke so gruffly she knew the problems must be worrying him. Succession?

  Wasn’t she here to ensure he would have the position of regent to Nim?

  Wasn’t that the succession?

  Should she ask him about it?

  She shook away the thought. She might not have been here long, but she’d picked up some of the cultural differences in the lines drawn between men and women. If he wanted her to know, surely he would tell her...