He shook his head and covered her hand with his. ‘No, there’s nothing anyone can do. I have to deal with it myself.’ He released a little sigh and continued, ‘I’ve booked in to see a counsellor. I think it’s time I did some work on myself.’
‘That’s very brave of you,’ she said softly.
He removed his hand from hers. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so full on lately. I thought if I threw myself into a new relationship I wouldn’t feel so bad about it all.’
‘I understand.’
He gave her a twisted, somewhat grim smile. ‘I wanted to make my wife jealous. I thought if she saw you hanging on my arm she’d change her mind and come back, but that’s not going to happen now. It’s over.’
‘I’m glad you explained it to me.’
‘There’s something else…’ He pushed his empty glass out of his reach before his eyes returned to hers. ‘Joel Addison didn’t ask you out for the reasons I said. He is concerned about some issues pertaining to your project, especially since the Lowe incident, but I was just jealous and wanted to cause trouble.’
‘Oh…’
‘It was pathetic, I know, and I’m ashamed of myself. I hope I haven’t made things difficult for you. I know you have to work pretty closely with him.’
‘I’m sure we’ll sort it out…’ Allegra said, already mentally rehearsing an apology as she recalled her heated interaction with Joel earlier.
Patrick got to his feet and, leaning down, placed a quick peck on her cheek before straightening. ‘Thanks for listening, Allegra. See you around some time.’
‘Be kind to yourself, Patrick. These things take time. Bye.’
Joel wrote up the last of his notes before leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh. He rubbed his face, grimacing at the sound of his palm on his unshaven jaw. His conversation with Anthony Pardle about Tommy Lowe hadn’t been encouraging. There didn’t seem to be much hope but Joel had wanted to make sure he wasn’t allowing his personal feelings get in the way. He had rearranged the shifts so the more experienced nurses were looking after the little boy and he had restricted visitors so that noise and disruption was at a minimum.
He’d even spent some time with the little boy after Anthony had left, sitting by his bed, talking to him, telling him some of the stuff he used to do as a kid.
‘I had a bike, a red one with blue stripes,’ he’d said, holding the boy’s small hand in his. ‘I thought I was pretty cool, riding up and down the street while my brother watched on the sidelines.’
A nurse had come past and he waited until she’d moved on before continuing in a low, urgent tone, ‘Come on, Tommy, you have to do your best, mate, to wake up. No half-measures, got that?’ He gave the little hand in his a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m counting on you to pull out of this. You have to do it, for yourself, not just for your parents and Dr Tallis. You have to do it for yourself.’
‘How’s Tommy doing?’ Allegra asked Bethany, when she returned to ICTU before heading home for the night.
The nurse handed her the BIS readouts. ‘No sign of any brain activity, I’m afraid.’
Allegra fought against her disappointment as she read the printout.
‘The movie finished a while ago,’ Bethany said. ‘Do you want me to rerun it?’
‘Yes—it can’t hurt to give it another go,’ she said, still hoping for a miracle.
‘Anthony Pardle came in a little while ago,’ Bethany informed her. ‘I overheard him talking to Dr Addison about Tommy.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He doesn’t think there’s much hope of Tommy recovering.’
Allegra refused to be put off. ‘You know what neurosurgeons are like—they see the worst so they always imagine the worst.’
‘Maybe, but Dr Addison seemed to be in agreement with him,’ Bethany said. ‘He agreed with Mr Pardle that Mr Lowe should be informed of the possibility of withdrawing life support from his son.’
Allegra felt her stomach drop in alarm. ‘So soon?’
‘Brain dead is brain dead, Allegra,’ Bethany said. ‘An hour, a day, a week or a month won’t make Tommy’s brain repair itself.’
‘But it’s only been a couple of days!’ she argued. ‘We normally give patients a week or ten days before making that sort of decision. Besides, he’s a child. Studies have shown that children sometimes do recover from severe head trauma after prolonged support.’
‘I know, but Dr Addison and Mr Pardle have the final say, in consultation with the father, when they think the time is right,’ Bethany reminded her. ‘The sad thing is the mother is starting to show signs of regaining consciousness. It doesn’t seem fair that she gets another chance at life when her son doesn’t.’
‘What’s been happening with Kate Lowe?’
‘They’ve withdrawn the barbiturates, as we have with Tommy, but while in Tommy’s case nothing has happened, Kate has shown signs of spontaneous breathing and she opened her eyes once.’
‘And her BIS monitor scores?’
‘There are definite signs of brain activity,’ Bethany said. ‘But not in Tommy’s.’
Allegra compressed her lips together as she looked at the small child being kept alive, his tiny limbs seeming to be even smaller than the day before. ‘Come on, Tommy,’ she pleaded softly. ‘Wake up, honey. I know you can do it.’
Bethany gave Allegra a surreptitious nudge. ‘Here comes Tommy’s father and his aunt.’
‘Dr Tallis,’ Keith greeted her. ‘I’d like you to meet my sister, Serena Fairbright.’
‘Hello,’ Allegra said, offering her hand to the glamorous woman accompanying Tommy’s father.
Serena’s hand brushed Allegra’s briefly. ‘How is my little nephew?’
‘He’s doing as well as can be expected,’ Allegra answered.
‘How did you go with the movie?’ Keith asked.
‘We’re playing it again now.’
‘So he hasn’t responded?’ Keith asked.
‘No, but I’d like your permission to try a couple of other things,’ Allegra said. ‘Firstly I would like to try a particular massage therapy to see if he responds.’
‘Massage?’ Serena gave a sceptical frown. ‘How is that going to repair his head injury?’
‘Children are very touch-sensitive,’ Allegra explained. ‘Young children in particular are used to being touched by their mother and father in loving ways, such as helping them dress each morning, doing their hair for them or cuddling them.’
‘Look, Dr Tallis, I’m not a new-age sort of man, as you’ve probably already guessed,’ Keith confessed. ‘I was brought up by strict parents who only ever touched me with a strap or a belt in their hands. I find it hard to express physical affection. I’ve never really kissed or cuddled Tommy, or at least not since he was about a year old.’
‘I know this is painful for you to answer, but did his mother have any particular physical routine that you can recall that Tommy might respond to?’ Allegra asked.
He gave her a shamefaced look. ‘I was always on at Kate for being too soft on the boy,’ he said. ‘She was always touching him, kissing him or playing with his hair. I was frightened she would make a sissy out of him.’
‘A lot of men feel that way, but let me assure you nothing could be further from the truth,’ Allegra said. ‘Touch is essential in a child’s life. Why not sit with Tommy now and tell him you’re here? And if you feel up to it, touch him in any way that makes you feel comfortable.’
‘We haven’t got long,’ Serena said, with an impatient glance at her diamond-encrusted watch.
‘If you think it would help…’ Keith said, although he looked as doubtful as his sister.
Allegra left them in privacy to return to the office, where she made a few notes, but she’d hardly finished a sentence or two when she saw Keith and his sister leave the unit once more.
‘What did I tell you?’ Bethany said poking her head around the glass partition. ‘She’s exactly the same as him—cold as a frozen fish.’
‘Yes, well, with that sort of background, what else could you expect?’ Allegra said as she toyed with her pen. ‘I can’t believe how cruel some parents can be. It’s no wonder Mr Lowe didn’t want Tommy’s grandparents to be contacted.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Bethany said. ‘Well, I’m off now that Chloe’s back. I did an extra couple of hours to cover for her. Dr Addison is insisting only the senior staff look after Tommy.’
Allegra looked up at that. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes, he may not be too keen on your project, but he’s certainly doing his best to help Tommy before he makes his final decision. I saw him sitting with him earlier. He was talking to him and stroking his hand. If you ask me, he was a whole lot better at it than the kid’s own father.’
‘Thanks for helping with Tommy,’ Allegra said after a tiny pause. ‘I’m going to head off home.’
‘No hot date tonight?’
‘I have a date with a good book and a glass of Pinot noir,’ she answered. ‘That’s about as hot as it gets in my life right now.’
‘You could always throw a vindaloo curry in there somewhere to turn up the heat a bit,’ Bethany suggested with a smile.
‘What a great idea,’ Allegra said, as she dragged herself to her feet. ‘The last thing I want to do is cook. Take-away, here I come.’
The Indian restaurant not far from her apartment had a small waiting area for customers waiting for their take-out orders. Allegra sank gratefully into a vinyl chair once she’d placed her order and picked up a magazine that was at least two years out of date, flicking through it absently.
Once her number was called she collected her meal and made her way out to the street, but had only gone a few paces when she saw a very familiar figure heading her way.
Joel looked down at the container in her hand. ‘Great minds think alike, it seems,’ he said. ‘What did you get?’
‘Beef vindaloo.’
‘Enough for two?’
‘No.’
‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I guess I’ll have to go and order my own.’
She pursed her lips for a moment. ‘I suppose I could make it stretch, but only if you’ve got a decent bottle of wine.’
He gave her a smile that melted her instantly. ‘I’ll go and get one from the bottle shop and meet you back at your place. Is there anything else you need?’
Only my head read, she thought as she returned his smile with a tentative one of her own. ‘No, the wine will be fine.’
Allegra answered the door a short time later and he held out the bottle for her to inspect. ‘Mmm…’ She peered at the label. ‘Last Hope Ridge, a ’98 Merlot. Not a bad vintage. You have good taste.’
‘In some things,’ he said, looking down at the soft curve of her mouth.
Allegra felt her senses spring to attention at the smouldering heat in his dark gaze as it returned to hers, her skin feeling tight and overly sensitive, as if preparing itself for his touch.
‘So I take it internet dating didn’t work out?’ she said, surprised her voice sounded so normal when her breathing was all over the place.
‘I was seriously thinking about it,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘But I wasn’t sure if you’d cast a spell on me earlier today so that I would end up with some wacko woman intent on having her wicked way with me.’
‘I do not cast spells,’ she said, trying to sound cross and indignant, but it didn’t quite work, with him smiling at her so disarmingly.
‘Yes, you do,’ he said, tugging her closer, his hands on her hips. ‘You’re doing it right now.’
‘That’s totally ridiculous,’ she gasped as his lower body came into contact with hers. ‘I wouldn’t know the first thing about magic…and all that…stuff…’ She swallowed as he brought his head down, his warm breath caressing the surface of her lips.
‘What about this stuff?’ he asked, as his mouth brushed hers.
‘That’s not magic…’ she breathed into his mouth.
‘What is it, then?’ he asked, his warm breath mingling with hers.
‘It’s…madness…’ she said, kissing him back softly, her lips clinging to his. ‘Total madness…’
‘It’s not madness,’ he growled as he pulled her even closer. ‘It’s desire.’
‘Lust,’ she corrected him. ‘It’s good old-fashioned lust. It will go away if we ignore it.’
‘How do you suggest we ignore it?’ he asked, nibbling gently at the soft underside of her neck.
‘Um…we could try some other activity…’ She shivered all over as the tip of his tongue briefly entered her ear.
‘What did you have in mind?’ He grazed her top lip with the masculine and totally irresistible rasp of his tongue. ‘Scrabble?’
‘I cheat at Scrabble,’ she said, sagging against him as he found her bottom lip and stroked it with his tongue, back and forth until her lip began to swell with need. ‘I make up words and I always win.’
‘I’d never let you get away with it,’ he warned softly, as his mouth hovered over hers.
‘No one’s beaten me yet.’ Her breath mingled intimately with his, making her stomach feel hollow.
‘I like the sound of being the first to conquer you,’ he said, pressing his mouth to hers in a scorching, probing kiss that left her totally breathless. Her arms wound around his neck as she rose on tiptoe to get even closer to him, her fingers delving into the thick black pelt of his hair, her body soft against his hardness, her legs feeling unsteady and trembling with desire.
He lifted his mouth from hers after endless minutes, his dark eyes alight with rampant need as they locked on hers. ‘We should eat before this gets out of hand. We’ve both had a long day and we’re not thinking with our heads here.’
‘You’re right,’ she said, unwinding her arms from his neck and stepping back from him. ‘Besides, I need to get an apology out of the way.’
‘What do you need to apologise for?’
‘Patrick told me you had only asked me out to keep me away from the unit. I was angry with you for exploiting me without checking to see if what he’d said was actually right.’
‘I see.’
‘He apologised for it earlier this evening. He’s going through a rough time in his personal life.’
‘And here I was thinking it was my kisses that finally convinced you of my motives,’ he said, with a wry twist to his mouth.
‘Your kisses are definitely very convincing,’ she admitted, lowering her eyes from the steadiness of his. ‘But…but aren’t we rushing things a bit?’
‘What do you mean?’
She raised her eyes back to encounter his unwavering dark brown gaze. ‘We may be attracted to each other physically, but we’re poles apart professionally. You have issues with my study and I have issues over your decision to withdraw life support on Tommy Lowe. This is never going to work between us.’
‘Come on, Allegra.’ His tone became impatient. ‘You know the routine with head injuries. Once the patient is declared brain dead by the neurosurgeon we have no choice but to advise the relatives to consider withdrawing life support. It’s not fair to the patient or the relatives to let them hang in limbo for no gain.’
‘Tommy is a young child,’ she countered. ‘Numerous studies have demonstrated the possibility of recovery after more prolonged support in children.’
‘Yes, but exactly what sort of recovery are we talking about?’
‘A full recovery, of course.’
He let out a short rough expletive. ‘You really are off with the fairies, aren’t you? Damn it, Allegra, you know there are degrees of recovery in these sorts of cases. Tommy could end up permanently disabled, either physically or intellectually or, God help him, both. He’d be totally dependent on his father or his mother if she survives. What sort of life is that for any of them?’
‘He’d be alive, that’s all that matters to a parent,’ she argued.
‘Is it?’ he asked, his eyes glittering with some indefinable pent-up e
motion she couldn’t quite recognise.
‘Of course it is! Losing a child is the most devastating thing that can happen to a parent. The grief is total and all-consuming.’
‘So is the grief of being totally responsible for a child who will never grow up, either physically or mentally,’ he said, grasping her by the upper arms, his fingers biting into her tender flesh. ‘Have you thought about that any time in your fairy-dust study? Have you ever interviewed the relatives of a child who didn’t get your magical full recovery? Have you asked them what it’s like to have to change their adult child’s nappy several times a day, to spoon food and drink into them while most of it dribbles down their chin? Have you asked them what it’s like to lie awake at night, listening to their child uttering screams and cries that no physical comfort or words will ever ease? Have you asked them what it’s like for the rest of the family, their marriage, and all their other relationships? Have you?’
She shrank back from the vitriol in his tone. ‘I—I…No I haven’t, but I—’
He dropped his hands from her so suddenly she almost stumbled backwards. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Allegra. I could see that from the first moment I looked at your study. You can’t keep people alive indefinitely without weighing the costs.’
‘Neither can you play God,’ she said. ‘You can’t possibly think it’s reasonable to wander through ICU and switch off ventilators, without giving the relatives adequate time to make that decision if it’s called for.’
‘Tommy Lowe will be given the same time frame every other patient in his condition is given. But once ten days is up, if there is still no brain activity his father will be informed of his choices. We can keep that child alive for months, but while he’s soaking up valuable resources, three or four other children will die for want of organ donation that Tommy’s brain-dead body could provide. Why don’t you go and visit some of them in the children’s ward? Have a talk to the parents sitting there hour after hour, with the clock on the wall ticking away their child’s last chance at a normal life.’
Allegra knew his argument was reasonable; she was well aware of the lifesaving transplants that offered hope when all else had failed. It was, after all, sometimes the only comfort in losing a loved one to know that some part of them lived on, giving precious life to some other person who then could go on to live a normal life. Julie’s parents had made the very same difficult decision when their daughter’s ventilator had finally been switched off. But Allegra had always thought Julie had deserved more time. It gnawed at her constantly. She couldn’t help feeling her friend’s parents had been pressured into their final decision.
In Her Boss's Special Care Page 10