‘Mr and Mrs Moore, I’m Miss Chambers. You asked to speak with me?’
‘Oh, Doctor, thank you for coming in to see Bianca this morning.’
Lucinda gave a small nod. ‘I’ve been talking with Mr Hill, the PICU registrar, and for now all we can do is wait and hope for a suitable donor.’
‘Sister Benton said you spent some time with Bianca last night before she…’ Mrs Moore struggled to speak. ‘Before she was taken so ill. We wanted to thank you. It would have meant so much to Bianca. She thinks a lot of you—you’re her favourite.’
‘Me?’ Lucinda said surprised. ‘But I’ve only been in the hospital a week. Surely she would have had others…’
Mrs Moore gave a small laugh through her tears. ‘You know what teenagers are like. Bianca thought you were so “cool”. She was raving on and on about you. When Sister Benton called and broke the news she said that you’d shared a pizza and watched a film with her. It probably didn’t mean much to you—I understand that—but for Bianca, well, she doesn’t have much of a life. Last night would have been very special to her. She really admires you.’
Lucinda’s eyes misted over and she hastily looked down at the notes in front of her. It was a trick she often used. The writing might as well have been in Chinese but it gave her something to do, something other than looking into Mr and Mrs Moore’s tortured eyes. After a moment she looked up at the strained faces, desperate to hear something—anything—about their daughter.
She faltered for a moment unsure of how much of their conversation to reveal, unsure if she could do this and still remain in control, but deep down she knew Bianca’s words weren’t hers to keep. They had been meant for Bianca’s family.
‘Bianca spoke about you all last night.’ She smiled gently at Lewis, a ten-year-old who should have been out at the beach or on his skateboard, not sitting in an intensive care interview room, trying to comfort his parents. ‘How much she loved you, how much you loved her. Bianca also told me that she wasn’t scared of dying. Her main concern was how you’d all cope if it happened.’
The sob that escaped from Mr Moore’s lips tore through Lucinda. Instinctively he reached for his wife and son, wrapping his arms around them as they sobbed together. Lucinda sat quietly for a couple of moments until they were ready to continue.
‘What did you say when Bianca said that?’ Mr Moore asked, choking on his tears.
‘That you’d be all right, you’d lean on each other and go on loving her wherever she was, and in time the hurt would ease and you’d be left with wonderful memories. I also told her that we had no intention of letting her die, though, and that she had to go on fighting, which she is.’
‘Thank you.’ He could barely get the words out and Lucinda knew it was time to leave them, to let them comfort each other. ‘If you want to talk again just have the PICU staff page me.’
As she made her way along the highly polished corridor, her trainers barely making a sound, Lucinda knew she had done the right thing. Despite the Moores’ tears, she had brought comfort to that family, and letting her guard down last night had meant she had got closer to Bianca. Yet surprisingly it hadn’t made today any worse. It had actually made it a bit more bearable.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘Me neither.’ Janine Stewart’s red-rimmed eyes met hers as Lucinda bumped into her.
‘How’s Kimberley?’
‘Stable, whatever that means. It’s the only word we want to hear at the moment. Whoever said that having a premature baby was like riding on a roller-coaster wasn’t wrong.’
‘It must be very difficult,’ she agreed, knowing how futile her words sounded.
Janine didn’t seem to mind. She ran a hand through her untidy hair. ‘I’d like to think that this time next year I’ll be up to my elbows in nappies and Vegemite toast soldiers, but the dream’s starting to fade a bit.’
Lucinda simply didn’t know what to say. For the millionth time she berated herself for her inability to vocalise her feelings. The bleeping of her pager came almost as a relief. ‘Sorry,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’ll see you on the unit later when I come to check on Kimberley.’
Walking into the canteen, Lucinda picked up the phone to dial the switchboard. Through the glass window she could see Janine slowly making her way back along the corridor, back to her cotside vigil, and not for the first time Lucinda wished she could have said something to help.
The page turned out to be Switchboard merely doing a routine check. Replacing the receiver, she turned and saw Seb eyeing the lunchtime blackboard without much enthusiasm.
Casually she made her way over to him. ‘Anything catch your eye?’
He turned and smiled. ‘Now it does. You’re far more tempting than anything in here.’
Lucinda gave a low laugh. ‘I don’t think I should let that go to my head. Beef stew and soggy cauliflower are hardly much competition.’
‘On the contrary, I happen to be a big fan of the beef stew, and soggy cauliflower is a particular favourite of mine, but I’m thinking of having a splurge and ringing out for dinner tonight.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Do you fancy sharing a curry with me? We could use the on-call room.’
Lucinda was caught completely off guard. Desperate to accept, but not wanting to appear to eager, she forced herself to pause for a moment before answering. ‘That would be great,’ she answered casually. ‘I’m actually going to be in my office tonight, doing some paperwork.’
Seb smiled. ‘I’ve an even better idea, then. Why don’t I get it sent up to your office if you’re going to be in there anyway? At least we’ll have some privacy.’
‘Sure,’ she replied as nonchalantly as she could with her heart in her mouth.
‘Great.’ He gave her the benefit of his smile. ‘I’ll look forward to some real food and adult conversation tonight. Billy’s hunger for Robot Savers hasn’t diminished one iota and the rest of the children have got me changing videos, fetching drinks, playing board games and cutting out shapes. It’s exhausting. I’ll be glad to come back to work for a rest. About eight, then,’ he added as he started to go, then changed his mind. ‘There is one condition, though,’
Lucinda gave him a quizzical look. ‘And what’s that?’
‘That we talk about you for once. Even I’m getting sick of hearing about me.’
As Lucinda made her way up to NICU her heart was hammering wildly and she scolded herself for overreacting. He had only asked her to share a curry after all; it was no big deal. Pushing the button for the lift, she finally gave in. Who was she kidding? It was a huge deal—a night on her own with Sebastian Carlisle!
‘How’s Kimberley Stewart? Did Andrew review her digoxin levels?’ asked Lucinda a little later.
Sue pulled out Kimberley’s file—it was twice the weight of the baby.
‘Yes, she’s in sinus rhythm at the moment. He’s going to review her again this afternoon if everything remains stable. Did you want to examine her yourself?’
Lucinda shook her head and Sue gave a relieved smile. ‘Good.’ Minimal handling was the order of the day for babies as sick as this and Lucinda wasn’t going to do anything to upset the apple cart.
‘Where’s Janine?’ Lucinda asked. ‘She started to talk to me in the canteen but my pager went off. She seemed upset.’
‘She is. Mark goes back to work tomorrow—she’s helping him pack now. Mark’s upset because he feels that he’s abandoning them and Janine’s upset because she feels he’s deserting them. It’s like a tragic soap story. If only they’d sit down and talk they’d probably get somewhere.’
An idea was forming in Lucinda’s mind and she surprised even herself as the white lie slipped easily from the mouth. ‘I won a dinner for two at Surayan’s Indian Restaurant, but it has to be used by this weekend. I’m on call, so that rules me out and, anyway, I’ve got plans. Perhaps you could persuade Janine and Mark to use it. After all, the distance to the restaurant isn’t much further tha
n the canteen. You can always ring them if there’s any change.’
‘That’s really nice of you.’ Sue gave her a quizzical look. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? If I could persuade them to go, it could do a lot of good. I’d already suggested they go out tonight for their anniversary but money’s very tight for them at the moment.’
Lucinda shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s no big deal. See what they say. I’ll put a booking in their name for about eight. It’s up to them whether they use it or not. You can only take the horse to water after all.’
After ringing Surayan’s and letting Vijay in on the charade, Lucinda took the chance to do some sightseeing. As she was on call she couldn’t roam too far, but St Kilda beach was only a short tram ride away and if needed she could hail a taxi and be back at the hospital within minutes. It was totally unlike her more junior days where being on call had meant you had to stay in the hospital at all times so as to be immediately available for any emergency. Now it was the more junior doctors’ turns and she would be called in only for emergency consults or operations.
It still didn’t sit quite right with her, though, and invariably Lucinda never strayed too far and liked to pop in and out of the hospital, sometimes choosing to sleep there if worried about a particular patient.
She had been told about the street market St Kilda held on a Sunday and it was as enchanting as promised. Rows and rows of stalls lined the street the length of the beach. Wares were beautifully displayed, all hand-made originals in keeping with a by-law of the market. It was just the place to find a couple of one-offs to add some warmth to her apartment. The only problem was how to get things home, and Lucinda made a mental note to come better prepared next week. Wandering slowly from stall to stall, she settled on a couple of bright throw rugs and some hand-painted prints of the bay.
‘I want an ice cream. I want an ice cream.’ The piercing shrieks of a young child rose above the crowd. Lucinda turned and watched as two frazzled-looking parents made their way to the ice-cream vendor. ‘Not that one.’ Red in the face, the little boy flung the cone down onto the pavement and proceeded to cry loudly. His exasperated parents reluctantly bought another cone in a bid to quieten him.
What a terror, Lucinda thought to herself. Again she questioned the rationale behind pursuing a relationship with Seb. Her time off was precious enough without spending it with a child battling with her for his father’s attention. There you go again, she thought, checking herself. You’re only sharing a curry, not the rest of your lives. And anyway, she consoled herself, Billy was far too laid-back to throw a temper tantrum over an ice-cream cone—he only seemed to get upset about toilet rolls. A small chuckle escaped from her lips at the memory and Lucinda realised she was actually walking along, smiling just at the thought of him. What was it with Seb and Billy Carlisle? she wondered. And what on earth was happening to her?
Happy with her purchases, she started to make her way back to the tram stop, but a particular stall she had missed earlier caught her eye. Soft organza dresses hanging from the canopy fluttered gently in the breeze in a myriad shades from the palest lemon to a vibrant purple. They had all been tie-dyed. The colours gently ran into each other, adding a depth to the simply cut dresses.
They were completely different to anything she usually wore, but Lucinda was hooked and more so when she saw the price—about a tenth of what she usually paid for a dress, which made an impulse buy all the more irresistible. Settling on a pale lilac, she finally clambered onto the tram, her purchases taking up two seats, and settled back for the short journey home.
Her busy week, combined with the previous night’s insomnia, made her unmade bed all too appealing. It was easier to climb in and rest awhile than bother making it. For once sleep came easily, and by the time Lucinda awoke it was well after seven. Cursing herself for not setting the alarm, she showered quickly and, pulling her new dress from the bag, slipped it on. It was stunning, gently ruched around the bust, its flowing length doing nothing to hide her curves and the lilac bringing colour to her face. She left her hair down and tied on some canvas espadrilles. A final glance in the mirror and she was ready.
The curry was delivered to her office promptly at eight and Lucinda set up the room for the meal. Candles would have been way over the top, of course, but her desk lamp provided a warm glow. Hastily she opened a file and started to write—she was supposed to be doing some paperwork after all. Just as she was starting to get nervous, wondering if it was actually going to be Seb that didn’t turn up, he knocked on the door. Looking up from her desk, she tried to casually smile as her heart somersaulted. Even with his jeans and T-shirt crumpled from lying on Billy’s bed, his sex appeal was overwhelming. His hair was as dishevelled as his clothes and she yearned to run her fingers through the wild raven locks.
‘Sorry I’m late. Billy took a while to settle and, of course, I ended up dozing off. They’ve started playing this New-Age rainforest music at the children’s settling time. Doesn’t work a scrap on the children but it knocks me out like a light.’
Lucinda laughed at his explanation. ‘I’ll have to try it.’ Her expression changed ‘How is he?’ she asked.
‘Upset. It’s starting to sink in that Gemma’s going to Sydney. It’s tough on the little guy.’
‘And you, too?’ she ventured.
But Seb wasn’t going to be drawn. ‘Oh, I’m all right—just starving. That curry smells marvellous.’
Lucinda smiled and closed the file she’d been pretending to read. ‘Let’s eat, then.’
‘What work are you doing?’ he asked as she spooned the rice onto the plates.
‘Just compiling some research I was doing in Queensland. The paperwork it produces is horrific.’
‘Tell me about it. I just finished a trial on PCA in paediatrics,’ Seb said, referring to patient-controlled analgesia, a means of giving pain relief in an infusion which was controlled by the patient. A touch of a button meant the patient could administer more pain relief if desired. It was strictly controlled with a lock-out mechanism so patients couldn’t overdose. Widely used with adults, it was becoming more common for some paediatric patients, and the trials were promising.
‘I’m supposed to be presenting my findings next month at the medical conference in Queensland, though I’ll struggle to have it all completed. Are you going?’ he asked as they settled down to eat.
‘Professor Hays did mention it. He said he had a wedding to attend but I rather think he’s had enough of medical conferences. I’ll probably be there but only for a couple of days over the weekend. We’ve got a lot of theatre cases the following week. It will be busy from then right up until Christmas.’
Seb nodded. ‘The bulk of the conference is over the weekend anyway. The other days are more of an opportunity for a bit of a holiday. I’m only staying two nights as well. Gemma’s going to be in Melbourne to see Billy as it will be too soon for him to fly to Sydney. Anyway, I’ve promised to cover for another consultant—Chris King—on the Sunday afternoon so he can go to a wedding, probably the same one as the prof. I owe a lot of favours,’ he added. ‘Now Billy’s op is out of the way it’s time to pay a few back.’
‘I’m sure people don’t want to be paid back. They understand how hard it is for you.’
‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I came here on the understanding we talked about you. So, tell me, what’s it like, being the daughter of two famous cosmetic surgeons?’
‘It’s different,’ Lucinda said cagily.
‘And did your stunning looks come courtesy of your parents’ genes or their scalpels?’
Lucinda laughed. ‘A bit of both actually. Mum and Dad mostly, but nothing would stop my mother in the quest for a perfect daughter. I thank the heavens daily that I was born reasonably OK or I’d have been nipped, tucked and reshaped beyond recognition by now.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Seb said incredulously.
Lucinda pulled back her hair. ‘I had my ears pulled back when I was
nine. I’ve seen old photos and they hardly stuck out at all.’ She paused. ‘Well, not that much. I had to wear this awful turban-like bandage for a week afterwards. I’ve had braces put on perfectly good teeth just so I could have a cover-girl smile, and my adolescent pimples were treated by a hysterical mother sending me off to dermatologists for antibiotics and creams.’
‘Good heavens.’
‘Fortunately I spent most of my teenage years at boarding school so most of the lumps and bumps and ugly stages all teenagers go through happened well out of the way of my parents or you could be sitting opposite quite a different-looking woman now.’
‘How was it—boarding school?’
‘I didn’t mind it too much,’ she hedged. ‘What are your parents like?’
‘Actually, they’re both dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I had a fabulous childhood. I’d love them to still be here, of course, but I know how lucky I’ve been when I hear stories like yours. I just can’t imagine what it would have been like going to bed without giving your mum a kiss and Sunday dinners and all that sort of thing.’
‘Well, there’s the difference. I never had any of that, even when I was home on holidays. You can’t miss what you don’t know.’
‘Oh, yes, you can.’ He looked at her then, right into her eyes. Lucinda swallowed hard. He was right. She had missed so many things—the Sunday roasts, the unconditional love of a parent. With her parents it had all been about achieving. And now she missed intimacy even though she had never really known it.
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