Back in Her Husband's Arms

by Susanne Hampton

Sara followed Nigel as he led her to another floor. ‘Excuse me asking,’ Nigel began, through a mouthful of muesli bar, ‘but are you married to Dr Fielding or are you his sister?’

  ‘No, we’re married but separated. It’s all very amicable,’ she added.

  Nigel nodded. ‘I asked, because they were all talking about it in Theatre today. With your names, they didn’t know if he was on his best behaviour for his sister or his wife.’

  Sara gave a wry smile, knowing she and Tom were already the topic of hospital gossip. She followed Nigel till they reached the lecture theatre, where he left her at the open double doors.

  Tom lifted his head, as if he sensed her near.

  ‘You have more patients for me?’ he asked with a smile.

  ‘Not exactly, well, not at the hospital. This is one of Stu’s private patients,’ she answered, as she climbed down the stairs towards Tom at the front of the large tiered room.

  ‘My skeletal class-three malocclusion, George Andrews, has cancelled his surgery for a number of reasons. But not one of them is valid,’ Sara explained, as she drew closer. ‘His friends have made him worried about the possibility of death or brain damage on the operating table and on top of that Mrs Andrews informs me that they’ve convinced him to head up north and work as a jackeroo, where his bite won’t offend the sheep!’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Crazy kids.’

  Sara smiled as he said it.

  ‘And what can I do?’

  Sara looked thoughtfully at Tom. ‘I hoped you might be able to explain to him the repercussion of not proceeding with the surgery. I honestly think he’s at that age when a man-to-man talk might serve him better.’

  ‘I’m happy to tell it like it is to George and let him weigh up his choices and let him make his decision. I think it’s our best shot.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  Tom stacked the last of the papers he had been gathering, put them in a large folder and scooped it under his arm. ‘Let’s do it, shall we?’

  * * *

  There was a knock on the practice door and Sara looked up to see Mrs Andrews in the waiting room with a very surly-looking George.

  ‘Would you like to have a subtle word with George out there while I keep his mother busy?’ she whispered to Tom. ‘I think the waiting room is less formal and intimidating.’

  Tom took his cue and stood up and walked out into the waiting room. Casually he picked a car racing magazine before flopping into a chair.

  ‘And what am I supposed to do?’ George growled. ‘Sit around while you both moan about me behind my back? I can’t see why I even had to come. Complete waste of time, if you ask me!’

  ‘Actually, George, I have to discuss a few things with your mother and I would like you to have a chat with Dr Fielding.’

  Mrs Andrews anxiously entered the office and George sat down in the waiting room with an annoyed expression upon his face.

  ‘I almost had to drag him here kicking and screaming,’ Mrs Andrews confessed. ‘There was some free concert thing on tonight—’

  ‘And don’t I know it,’ Sara told her with a sigh as she closed the door on Tom and George.

  * * *

  ‘George, I’m Dr Fielding,’ Tom said, as he dropped the magazine on the seat beside him. ‘I thought we could have a chat about the surgery. I heard you’ve cancelled,’ Tom went on as he moved to a chair closer to the young man.

  George just looked up with a disinterested expression. ‘Do you know how long my mum is gonna be? I wanna go already.’

  ‘She’s in there, talking to Sara, so I’m not sure. But I’d like to chat to you about your decision—’

  ‘I’m not having it done any more,’ he cut in rudely.

  Tom lifted one eyebrow and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Absolutely your choice, mate. But I’m not sure you’re cancelling for the right reasons.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, unless you have much older and wiser friends with medical backgrounds, then they’re not qualified to discuss the risks or advantages of the surgery.’

  ‘But I could die on the table.’

  ‘You could die bungee-jumping or doing doughnuts in your car on a dirt road up north, but you’ll probably do both with your friends.’

  ‘Probably.’ George was eyeing Tom suspiciously but now seemed to be listening. Clearly the doughnuts on the dirt road had rung true.

  ‘Listen, George, the operation is not for the faint-hearted. I won’t lie to you, but without it you will have much bigger problems in the long run. It’s not about appearance. Even chewing will become more difficult with a jaw discrepancy like yours.’

  ‘So I won’t be able to eat a steak?’

  ‘George, as you get older everything will become more difficult. You have to think down the track, not just today. Your long-term health needs to be considered. Even your nutritional needs and the effect on your digestive system needs to be considered. This might not mean a lot now but later you will find it difficult. Your friends won’t be there then.’

  ‘So it’s not just for looks.’

  ‘Absolutely not, George, although that is a bonus,’ Tom said with a wink. ‘Never hurts to look good for the ladies.’

  Tom noticed George’s body language relax and become less defensive.

  ‘Maybe I’ll think about it, then,’ he announced.

  ‘Can’t ask you to do more than that. But don’t go to your friends for medical advice. I’m sure they know loads about the latest apps and games, but definitely not about surgical procedures.’

  ‘Can you tell the doctor in with my mum that I’ll think about it? I’ll make up my mind in a couple of days.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTER GEORGE AND Mrs Andrews left the office, Sara thanked Tom for his successful intervention. She knew he had a way with patients, particularly teenagers, and his inroads with George proved it. As they made their way to the car park, she asked Tom about an invitation she had received in the mail a few days earlier.

  ‘By the way, have you rung Dana and Stu with your answer yet?’ she asked as she opened her car door.

  He paused with her door ajar. ‘Answer to what? I haven’t heard from them.’

  ‘They sent us both letters asking us to be godparents to the twins. The christening is in two weeks.’

  Tom didn’t mask his confusion as he hopped into the Healey and wound down the old-fashioned window. ‘Honestly, Sara, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m aware there’s the christening coming up but I haven’t received anything from them. Typical of Stu, he probably just left it on my desk somewhere for me to find. I’ll look tomorrow and get back to you. But I have to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about being a godparent. All things considered, I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Tom, they’re not asking us to adopt them. I think it’s a wonderful idea.’ Sara thought it was an honour and she was sorry that they had all drifted apart over the last few years. She was determined that would not happen again and she couldn’t wait to catch up with Dana again. The prospect of being the boys’ godmother made her happy. It meant that she would have strong links to their family for ever. This time in Melbourne had made her realise she didn’t want to leave it all behind. She loved her friends and wanted to be a part of their lives.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he told her flatly, before starting the car to drive home. Think long and hard about it, he told himself. Sara’s car was soon an illuminated speck in his rear-vision mirror.

  * * *

  The next day went along steadily. Tom told her he would be working late at Augustine’s. It was about one o’clock when Sara received a telephone call from the country. She had finished with the morning’s patients and was enjoying a break with a hot mug of minestrone sou
p when the call came through.

  ‘Sara, hi, it’s Dana. How are you?’

  Sara rested the cup down on the coaster Marjorie had given her. ‘Dana, I’m well, really well,’ she said, leaning forward onto the desk. ‘But how are things going with you? How’s Bonny coming along? It was just such a beautiful painting she sent me.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll tell her you liked it. She’s coming along so well, I can’t tell you how grateful we are to you for stepping in and taking over.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I’m just glad I could help out.’

  ‘We’ll never forget it,’ Dana said softly. ‘It’s made all the difference. And that’s why I’m ringing. We hadn’t heard back from you. Sara, Stu and I really want you to be their godmother. Bonny’s done so well in only a week that we’ve decided to have a big party for Henry and Phillip’s christening. We had planned on something low key but now practically the whole town is coming.

  ‘Sara,’ Dana’s voice called down the line, ‘please, don’t feel pressured. I understand if you’re too busy. Really, I don’t want you to feel that you have to. We’d love to have you up for the party just as our guest. I’m sure Stu could ask someone else.’

  ‘I’m not feeling pressured. Not at all. I’d be thrilled to be the boys’ godmother, it’s just that I’m not sure if Tom will agree. He’s a bit hesitant—’

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Dana cut in. ‘And don’t worry about Tom. Stu spoke to him today and he’s on board too. Gosh it’s going to be so great to see you again. It’s been so long and we have so much to catch up on.’

  Sara nodded into the telephone. ‘Yes, it will be great, really great,’ she managed to reply, totally surprised at Tom’s shift in attitude. What had made him change his mind? Was he coming round on some level to the idea of children after all? She realised every day just how complex Tom was and how he could still astonish her.

  * * *

  The afternoon was as steady as the morning. There were new patient consultations and a couple of post-operative checks.

  ‘You certainly like to be busy, Sara,’ Marjorie commented late in the day, as she placed the last of the typed reports on Sara’s desk for her signature. ‘You’ve booked a hectic surgical schedule for the next few weeks.’

  ‘Marjorie, I’m fine. I’m not being paid to sit around and do nothing.’

  ‘I know, but you must also look after yourself,’ she said firmly. ‘What about we close up and head off home? Your minor surgical list tomorrow is a long one. Starts at eight o’clock and we won’t finish much before six tomorrow evening. Laura and William North will be with us for the entire day.’

  Sara agreed it was a good idea and gathered up her case notes for the next day’s patients. She intended to read them briefly during the evening to refresh her memory. Locking the door, she headed downstairs.

  Wistfully, Sara looked across the reflections in the river and for a moment her imagination took over and convinced her that she was heading home to spend the evening curled up with Tom instead of a pile of cold case notes. With the gas fire warming the room, she pictured Tom cuddling her as they sat together on the sofa, his arms wrapped tightly around her. But her fantasy slowly faded in the cold night air.

  She came back to reality and the overwhelming loneliness of the deserted car park. Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her arms and shivered.

  She knew she shouldn’t allow her thoughts to wander to Tom. But thinking about him wasn’t a conscious decision. No matter how hard she tried to block him from her mind, something would always remind her of him. And when she was by herself she needed no prompting to find his image creeping back in. He had unlocked the key to her heart many years ago and now, despite her protests, it appeared he had subtly crept back in.

  * * *

  Mollie Hatcher was on time the next morning and more than a little apprehensive about losing the gap between her front teeth.

  ‘But my grandma says it’s good luck to have a gap,’ Mollie told them, her big brown eyes wide with worry.

  Sara smiled understandingly. ‘You know, Mollie, my grandma told me exactly the same story, and you never know—it might just be true. But it doesn’t mean you have to keep the gap to keep the good luck! Especially not if it makes it hard to fit the rest of your teeth in and it stops them from meeting together properly.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, your teeth came through with a gap. Now, if your grandma’s story is true, then the good luck has already been decided for you. So there’s no need to keep the gap.’

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, with a frown wrinkling the spattering of freckles on her nose. ‘But will it hurt?’

  ‘Mollie,’ the anaesthetist interrupted softly, ‘do you like butterflies?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I love the big, bright coloured ones.’

  William smiled. ‘That’s good, because I’m going to rub some special cream onto your hand and a butterfly is going to sit there and make you feel a bit sleepy. You’ll still be awake and able to hear Sara and help her but you won’t feel anything she does, so it won’t hurt at all.’

  The neuroleptanagesia quickly took effect, and Sara was able to remove the fleshy frenum that ran between Mollie’s upper front teeth. She carefully sutured and then packed the site with a dressing before Laura helped the child into Recovery.

  Following her appointment with Mollie, Sara’s morning passed without incident—the minor surgical cases were straightforward and uneventful.

  Sara’s mind strayed to Tom. She hadn’t seen much of him for a few days—the mid-year break was over and the hospital was monopolising his time. She had heard his car come and go at odd hours, but she had resisted the urge to pull back the drapes and peer out at him from the window. They had bumped into each other leaving for work, and Sara suggested shopping together for christening presents on the weekend. Tom seemed hesitant at first but then agreed and made a time for Saturday.

  Sara had worried the day shopping would be fraught with tension but it was lovely and so far from her initial concerns. She had assumed the idea of buying presents for children would make Tom feel uncomfortable. But it didn’t. Tom seemed happy enough to be looking at silver frames and other keepsakes but he had his own ideas too.

  He suggested a large antique train set or racing cars as an alternative, then humoured Sara as she wandered around the delicate ornaments for about half an hour. After she asked the salesperson to reserve two stunning silver frames while she wandered a little more just to be sure of her purchase, he took Sara off to the toy department. She watched him for the first time roam around like a kid himself. He was wide-eyed and enthusiastic about what the boys would love now, and as they grew older. Which toys would be the most exciting, and how Stu could enjoy playing with the toys with his sons.

  Sara felt a tug at her heart as she saw the genuine interest he had in finding something the children would love.

  Finally he saw them. Two six-foot, enormous brown teddy bears.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, looking up at the huge furry creatures. ‘They’re so big. I don’t know where Dana would put them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have something to keep?’

  Tom nodded. ‘If that’s what you want, I guess you’re right. We should be practical. Let’s get the silver frames.’

  Sara smiled. Shopping with Tom wasn’t difficult at all but it was sad seeing his reaction to the toys he would never share with his own children. She had the frames gift-wrapped and they headed off to enjoy lunch at a café before they left the city. Sara felt sure Dana would love the frames. Tom didn’t say anything more but he really did love the bears.

  * * *

  Sara had less than two weeks left on her locum assignment for Stu.

  George’s surgery came around very quickly. She had called in to see him that night on the way home and go
ne over the procedure. He wanted the rhinoplasty as well and his mother was happy with that decision. Sara explained to George that he would be wearing anti-embolism stockings prior to his surgery and following the operation to reduce the possibility of deep vein thrombosis.

  ‘Now, on top of everything else, I’ve gotta wear pantyhose?’

  Sara smiled, ‘No, George, not pantyhose. These are like thin white socks that compress your legs to increase the blood flow, preventing your leg veins from expanding. It stops blood pooling in your legs and forming a clot.’

  He turned to his mother. ‘Just make sure no one takes photos of me in the pantyhose-sock things. If that gets online I am so totally screwed.’

  * * *

  Sara slept well and was ready for a full day when she arrived at the hospital.

  ‘Good morning, Rosalie.’

  ‘Hi, Sara. Good to see you again,’ the theatre nurse said, as Sara entered the scrub room. ‘Long list again today.’

  ‘Certainly is. Starts with George Andrews. He’s understandably nervous. It’s a long op he’s looking at.’ Dressed in her green theatre scrubs, with her hair secured under a surgical cap, Sara began lathering her hands and arms.

  ‘If it goes as smoothly as last week,’ Rosalie replied as she rinsed the lather from her hands and forearms, ‘it’ll be a dream for everyone.’

  ‘Unfortunately we don’t have Dr Fielding helping out, if that’s what you mean—’

  ‘Oh, yes, you do.’ Tom’s deep voice came from the other side of the small room.

  Sara spun on her surgically booted heels to find him also dressed in theatre garb and scrubbing in at the opposite trough. He turned to face her at that exact moment.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘I have an assisting surgeon already confirmed.’

  She soon found herself facing his broad back as he turned back round to rinse his hands. She watched in astonishment as he casually dried them and slipped into his latex gloves.

  ‘Fran Burton, your assisting surgeon, just called Marjorie, who in turn called my office to say she had been held up and would be late. Great excuse to take a break from paperwork, so I’ll help with the first patient and she’ll be here to take over in time for number two.’