One Magical Christmas

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘The morning I’m having and you ring to tell me you’ve sacked the nanny. I couldn’t give a damn if you’ve got a photo shoot tomorrow, Gemma.’ Pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, Angus closed his eyes. ‘Frankly, I couldn’t have cared less if Ainslie was stealing the odd thing—she was the best thing to happen to the kids and to get rid of her one week before Christmas…’ He went to hang up then changed his mind. ‘No, Gemma, you sort it out for once!’

  He aimed the receiver in the general direction of the phone but missed spectacularly, then as he strode towards the Resuscitation area he stopped, dragged in a huge breath and leant against the wall for a moment. Imogen was glad he did, glad he took a moment to compose himself before he went in to see Maria—she deserved calm and his full attention.

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘No problem.’ Imogen smiled, because it wasn’t. Oh, she didn’t have a nanny, of course, but had Brad rung her with something so trivial, she’d have no doubt put on a similar show herself.

  ‘It’s just sometimes…’ He stopped himself then, just as she had so many times in another lifetime. And even if she had only just met him, even if they were from opposite sides of the globe and even though he was stunning looking and she was rather, well, plain, Imogen knew that they had one thing in common: both of them had had to work, to function, to keep on keeping on through the rocky part of a failing marriage—even if Angus wasn’t ready to admit it.

  ‘Impossible?’ she offered, watching his eyes jerk to hers, seeing that flash of surprise that someone might just possibly understand. ‘Brad used to ring me all the time with some perceived drama, or I’d be ringing him with one of my own…’

  ‘Brad’s your husband?’

  ‘Brad’s my ex-husband.’

  ‘Oh!’ He pulled away from the wall then, clearly deciding that she didn’t understand at all, that the flash of recognition that he’d thought he’d seen actually didn’t apply to him in the slightest.

  ‘It isn’t actually a perceived drama,’ he said tartly. ‘Gemma was right to ring, she just caught me at a bad time.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Really,’ he insisted. ‘Gemma and I are fine. It just wasn’t the best time to call, that’s all.’

  ‘Good.’

  He was about to insist again that nothing was wrong, but Imogen decided it wasn’t her business anyway, the fleeting moment of connection long since gone. It was time now to get on with the unpleasant task in hand—and it was Imogen who concluded the conversation.

  ‘Let’s go and speak with Maria.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  IMOGEN HAD nursed since the age of eighteen, and now at thirty-two years of age and with most of her experience in either Intensive Care or Emergency, she had seen more than her fair share of tragedy and dealt with many unbearably sad situations. Most stayed with her enough to be recalled when required, some would stay with her for ever—and some, like Maria, would actually change her.

  Despite his cool greeting and sometimes brusque demeanour, still Imogen had liked Angus. She had worked in Emergency long enough to form a very rapid opinion, and generally she was spot on.

  And now, listening to him confirm Maria’s darkest fears, Imogen knew that she was right. Understood even why he wanted to be the one to tell her. Lacing compassion with authority, he led her through the news, tender yet firm he let her find her own route, which was, for Maria, to face the truth. When many others would have left, Angus stayed, reiterating when needed and sometimes just quiet as Maria had to grieve for her own short life too. Yet somehow she rallied, maternal instinct kicking in, knowing that in the little time that remained she had to make plans for her son.

  ‘I have to speak to my brother.’ Her blue eyes were urgent. ‘I cannot die before I speak with him.’

  ‘He said the same thing,’ Angus said gently. ‘He’s flying in.’

  ‘I need to speak to him about Guido—about what must happen to him.’

  ‘I’ll also get Social Services to come and speak to you—’ Angus started, but Maria was having none of it.

  ‘I just want Elijah.’

  ‘Do you have a will, a lawyer?’ Angus asked, but Maria simply wouldn’t go there. Her brother was the only one she would consider talking to, the only person she wanted now apart from her son.

  ‘Your brother’s on his way,’ Angus said.

  ‘How long does a flight take from Rome to London?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘About three hours,’ Angus answered, but there was also getting to the airport, booking a flight and realistically they were looking more at five or six hours, and no one was sure Maria had that.

  ‘I think I want to see Guido.’ Maria screwed up her eyes with the agony of it. ‘But I’m worried that I’ll scare him…’

  ‘Your face is fine,’ Imogen said softly. ‘I’ll give it a wash and we’ll make sure everything else is covered. I’ll turn down all the machines so that they don’t alarm him.’

  ‘I won’t be able to hold him,’ Maria croaked.

  ‘I’ll hold him for you,’ Imogen said. ‘I’ll put his face right next to yours and you can feel him and smell him…’

  ‘I don’t want to start crying. I don’t know if I want him to see me like this.’

  ‘OK,’ Imogen soothed. ‘You let me know.’

  ‘How’s her pain?’ Angus checked a little while later. Maria was calmer, lying with her eyes closed but not sleeping as Imogen sat quietly by her side.

  ‘I’m OK.’ She opened her eyes to let Angus know she wasn’t sleeping. ‘Any word from my brother?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait.’

  ‘Don’t try and be brave,’ Imogen said. ‘We can keep increasing your morphine, make you more comfortable…’

  ‘No more till Elijah is here—I want to be conscious when my brother comes.’

  Imogen had long since learnt that people were people, women still women even in the most dire of times—even when they were dying. Friends and just a bit of a smile were always needed. Suddenly Maria was asking for her face to be washed and if she could be tidied up a bit—as she emotionally prepared herself to see her son. A healthy dose of morphine combined with a good measure of denial meant that Maria managed a little chat as Imogen gently tended to her.

  ‘I forgot to bring my make-up.’ It took a second to realise that Maria had managed a joke and they shared a smile. ‘I am never without it.’

  ‘I’ve got some lipstick,’ Imogen offered, ‘if you want to use it.’

  ‘Thank you. You know, I thought I was imagining things when I saw Angus.’

  ‘I thought I was, too, when I came on duty,’ Imogen grinned, glad to be Maria’s friend today, glad that for a little while more Maria could be Maria. ‘Bloody gorgeous, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s on the television, too.’ Maria said, her eyes almost crossed as she tried to focus.

  ‘Angus?’ Imogen frowned.

  ‘A lot—he’s a TV doctor or something.’

  ‘I’ll have to remember to set my DVD to record him.’ Imogen winked. ‘A little memento to take back to Australia. Hey…’ Imogen frowned for the first time at her patient. ‘How come your eyeliner’s still on?’

  ‘It’s a tattoo!’ Maria coughed as she tried to laugh.

  ‘Wow!’ Imogen was genuinely impressed. ‘I’ve always wanted to get my eyelashes dyed—I’ve just never got around to it.’

  ‘Do it!’ Maria said, managing to focus her eyes on Imogen. ‘Go and do it!’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Have a proper break.’ Heather was insistent. ‘I’ll go in and stay with her. I want you to go and have a coffee and a sandwich and catch your breath for a little while. You, too!’ Heather added to Angus.

  There really was no point being a martyr—Imogen had learnt that long ago. Sure, there were times when ten minutes for a quick drink and a sit-down were impossible to find, but today Imogen knew that a qu
ick refuel would help not just the doctor and nurse but the patient too. Maria was being reviewed by the anaesthetist now, the team ensuring that everything possible was being done to keep Maria pain free and to respect her wishes to remain conscious for as long as possible until her brother arrived.

  Peeling off the dirty gowns and paper hats, it was a relief to be out of them. Imogen was aware she must look a sight, her red hair damp with sweat and stuck to her head. Looking at Angus, there was no doubt that she too had a nice big crease around her forehead where her hat had been, only her uniform, she was sure, wasn’t quite as fresh looking as his crisp shirt.

  And though she had joked with Maria about it, now that she was alone with him, away from the horrors, for the first time Imogen really noticed how gorgeous he was.

  His beautifully cut hair had recovered from the cap just a little better than hers, and as she walked behind him to the staffroom she saw how it tapered into his neck, saw the wide set of his shoulders and caught a whiff of his gorgeous scent as he held the door open and they walked inside. He was so tall and broad he actually made Imogen feel slender as she stood beside him and loaded four slices of bread into the toaster and he made two quick coffees. He had nice hands too, Imogen thought, noticing how he stirred sugar into her coffee. But seeing his wedding band glint, she chose not to go there.

  Wouldn’t do to others what had been done to her—not that a man as divine as Angus Maitlin would even deign her that sort of a glance!

  Still, he wasn’t just nice to look at, he was a nice guy too, and after the morning they’d so far shared, it was nice to actually meet him.

  And it felt so-o-o good to sit down.

  So good not to be in that room where death was present. So good that, despite the horrors, despite the fact it was the foremost thing on both their minds, for most of their break they chose not to talk about it.

  ‘So you’re from Australia?’

  ‘Queensland.’ Imogen nodded.

  ‘And you only just got here.’

  ‘I didn’t intend to start work quite so quickly. I was supposed to be finding somewhere to stay, but when I checked into the youth hostel there were already four messages from the hospital asking if I could ring them—I’d sent in all my paperwork and references a few weeks ago.’

  ‘So what brings you here?’ Angus asked. She didn’t look like the regular travellers they got here—young nurses just qualified and ready to party. His eyes narrowed as he tried to guess her age—late twenties, early thirties perhaps. ‘You said you’ve got a son?’

  ‘I do…’ He watched as her face brightened. ‘Heath. He’s here with his dad. Brad’s working in London, so I thought I’d come over for Christmas.’

  Angus’s narrowed eyes were joined by a frown now and he fought quickly to check it. So what if her child lived on the other side of the world with his father? It certainly wasn’t his place to judge.

  ‘I was hoping to work just a couple of nights a week to cover the rent in a serviced apartment,’ Imogen continued, ‘but having seen the prices of temporary rentals that I can afford…’ Imogen pulled a face. ‘Well, let’s just say they’re not exactly the places I’d want to bring Heath back to! So it looks like I’m going to just have to take him sightseeing when I see him.’

  ‘You’re separated from your husband?’ Angus checked.

  ‘Divorced.’

  ‘And he’s English?’

  ‘He’s Australian.’ Imogen laughed, enjoying his confusion. ‘Brad’s just working here.’

  ‘So what does he do for a living? If you don’t mind me asking.’

  ‘He’s an actor!’ Imogen rolled her eyes. ‘And not a very good one either—if you don’t mind me saying.’ Angus’s frown was replaced by a grin as she smiled at him.

  ‘Maria said that you’re on television too!’

  ‘She recognised me?’ He could feel his cheeks redden. It was the one thing in his life that embarrassed him. He took his television appearances seriously, saw it as an excellent means for education, but lately personal questions had been creeping into the show, a sort of thirst for knowledge about him was being created, a celebrity status evolving that, unlike Gemma, he didn’t aspire to. ‘I have a regular spot on a current affairs show, discussing current medical trends, health issues…It’s no big deal.’

  ‘It is to Maria! She thinks you’re marvellous!’ Imogen winked. ‘Says you’re quite a hottie.’

  ‘A hottie?’ Angus queried then wished he hadn’t, working it out before Imogen could answer.

  ‘Cute!’ Imogen grinned. ‘But, I told her the camera always lies, and given I was married to an actor for years. I speak on good authority.’ He couldn’t quite make her out. She was very calm, laid back even, but she had this dry edge to her humour he liked.

  ‘Anyway…’ Angus went to bite into his toast ‘…I’m going to give it up soon.’

  ‘Had enough?’ Imogen said casually, but Angus, though apparently calm, was actually reeling inside! He hadn’t told anyone that, had only just broached the subject with Gemma. It was just the sort of careless comment that he shouldn’t be making. He hadn’t even told them at the show, and he moved quickly to right it.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t say anything.’

  ‘About what?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘About what I just said.’ Angus cleared his throat. ‘It wouldn’t look good if it got out.’

  ‘I’ll say!’ Imogen grinned. ‘We can’t have everybody knowing that the amazing Dr Maitlin doesn’t even know what a hottie is!’

  In a morning where there should have been none, somehow she’d brought just a touch of laughter, and not just to him, Angus noticed, but to their patient too. Imogen Lake, the only shred of good fortune Maria Vanaldi had had today.

  Emergency’s gain, Maternity’s loss, Angus thought, thinking back to his obstetric rotation. She’d be great at that too.

  ‘So you’re a midwife too?’

  ‘I am.’ But suddenly she wasn’t quite so forthcoming.

  ‘You’re emergency trained, though—clearly!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Heather said you had ICU qualification,’ Angus pushed. ‘So which do you prefer?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been doing emergency for years now—since I qualified. I love it and everything, but…’ He watched as she shrugged. ‘Midwifery never really appealed to me till I had Heath. I’ve kept my hand in and I generally do a shift a month at the birthing centre at the local maternity hospital back home. I’m thinking of applying for a full-time job there when I get back. Actually…’ she gave a tight smile ‘…I’m thinking about a lot of things.’

  ‘Won’t you miss Emergency?’

  ‘That’s a bit of a daft question to ask this morning,’ she answered, and Angus would have loved to have spoken to her some more, was actually sorry when the quick reprieve was over when she drained her cup and stood. ‘Speaking of which, I’d better get back to Maria.’

  ‘I’ll be there in a moment.’

  ‘Thank you—’ Maria held Imogen’s eyes ‘—for being there today. I’m so glad it was you.’

  ‘I’m glad it was me too…’ Imogen answered, and even though today had been one of the worst shifts in memory and she’d have given anything to have missed it, would far rather have been bringing a gorgeous life into the world than helping one come to an end, some how she was glad she had been there too, because she had helped. Imogen felt safe in the knowledge that she had done her job well—and Maria deserved that today.

  She was a good nurse—Imogen knew that—and a good woman too, and today Maria had needed both. As painful as it might be, Imogen was actually glad that she could help this woman on her final journey.

  ‘I don’t want to die!’ Loaded with morphine now, Maria’s eyes were like pinpricks as she tried to focus on Imogen.

  ‘I know.’ Imogen stroked her cheek.

  ‘I’m not ready.’

  ‘I know.’

  She could feel Angus,
fiddling with the morphine, checking Maria’s NG tube, lifting up the catheter and checking that there was still no output, and Imogen knew somehow that he was there for her. And as Imogen removed her mask, knowing it was pointless now, she felt him in the room as she did the hardest bit of nursing and gave a bit more of herself to her patient.

  ‘I’m scared.’

  And she could say I know again, only Imogen knew she had to give more, had to ask her patient for more, and Angus’s hand on her shoulder was very gratefully received. The stab of his fingers in her shoulder actually hurt a touch as they dug in, but they were very welcome—that someone was standing silently beside her, supporting her as she tried to support Maria and tie up the loose knots in a life about to be taken too soon.

  ‘What are you most scared of, Maria?’ Imogen asked, because until she knew she couldn’t possibly understand the most vital bits in Maria’s life. ‘Tell me and if I can help I will.’

  ‘I’m scared for Guido. I’m scared that Rico’s family will get him…’ Maria screwed her eyes closed. ‘Elijah knows.’

  ‘Your brother?’ Imogen checked.

  ‘He knows what they’re like. I don’t want them raising him.’

  ‘What about your brother?’ Imogen asked. ‘Can he raise Guido?’

  ‘I don’t know…’ Maria sobbed. ‘I don’t know if he can, if he’ll want to. He doesn’t have children, he’s not married…I need to talk to him. He knows how it is…’ Maria’s eyes pleaded for understanding that Imogen failed for a second to give, but thankfully there was a man behind her who stepped right in.

  ‘Elijah will be here soon.’ Still Angus gripped her shoulder as he spoke. ‘And I promise you that we will come up with the very best solution we can for your son.’

  Elijah rang his sister from the plane, and Imogen held the telephone while Maria spoke to him, but it was too much for Maria, sobbing into the phone despite her brother’s attempts to calm her.

  ‘She’s getting more distressed…’ Imogen took over the call, speaking to the man whose Italian accent was thick and rich. He sounded incredibly together, given the circumstances, but Imogen could hear the pain behind each word. ‘She just needs to see you. I know you’re doing your best to get here.’