She’d made up her mind now—how did she feel? Clear-headed but miserable.
He was still sitting in the chair but now holding and rocking a quietly grizzling Charlie. She looked at them and her heart went out to them. And then she said, ‘Toby, because of this and that, we’re both a bit over-emotional now. Things were said that probably shouldn’t have been said. I’m very sorry. Please, can we forget the complete conversation we had? Go back to just how we were before?’
Not a typical beaming Toby smile, but a sad, a wistful one. ‘Probably a very good idea,’ he said. ‘And, Annie, you know, whatever I say, I never want in any way to harm you. After my family you’ve shown me more kindness, more thought than anyone I’ve ever met.’
‘That’s hard to believe because, Toby, no matter what, you’re a very loveable man. Now, shall we stop worrying about our feelings and see if that little lad would like anything for his breakfast?’
‘He seems to be making indications that way,’ Toby said.
She felt happy as they set about their customary tasks together. Just as she was getting Charlie’s things together for crèche, the phone rang. She heard Toby take it, it was obviously for him. When she went back into the living room he said, ‘That was John Bennett. He phoned to say that he was sorry to hear of my mother’s death. He also said that under no circumstances was I to come anywhere near the hospital for the next three days. He said I’d have things on my mind, I’d be a danger to my patients.’
‘Do you think you would be a danger to your patients?’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he admitted. ‘But I’d like to think that I was above such things.’
She sighed. ‘Toby, admit it! You’re as human as the rest of us.’
‘Perhaps,’ he said.
The funeral was four days later. Annie had wanted to come but Toby had asked her if she’d mind staying at home and looking after Charlie. ‘It’s stupid, I know,’ he said, ‘but I don’t want him to be in a crèche when his grandmother is being buried. I’d rather he was with someone who loved him.’
‘Of course,’ said Annie, her heart twisting, seeing yet again how Charlie had managed to touch Toby where she could not.
She was waiting for him when he came back from the funeral, looking impossibly handsome in his black suit and tie and pure white shirt. ‘How was it?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘It was a funeral. And if a funeral can be a success, this one was one. Much of it was Carly’s idea. She said that a funeral should be a celebration of a life, not the mourning of a death. So that’s what we tried to have. We had assorted people giving little speeches about how they remembered my mother. Carly was very moving. She was crying but she was smiling. Even Jack’s voice quavered a bit.’
There was silence for a few minutes more and then she said, ‘I’ve seen all sorts of different sides to you in the last few weeks, Toby. I started off determined not to be affected by you. I’d got over you, the always cheerful, always casual Toby. Then, somehow, I found you to be a much more complex man than I had ever imagined. You could be thoughtful, sensitive. Above all, you could be hurt, you could feel pain. And now you seem to have come full circle. You’re as cheerful, as casual as ever.’
‘That’s me,’ he said.
She wondered whether to believe him.
Two days later she was running an antenatal clinic. It was fun to be back at work. Other people’s problems, other people’s joys, they took her mind off herself. Which at the moment was no bad thing.
Having a child could be a tiresome business. There were a number of tests, checks, observations to make. But the psychological state of the mums was also very important. Much of Annie’s time was spent counselling, advising what was desirable, what was possible, what was actually bad.
‘But, Doctor, I’ve smoked all my life. I need it. I’ve tried but I just can’t give it up.’ Amy Jones, a single mum-to-be, had been determined to do the best she could for her unborn child. But she genuinely could not stop smoking.
‘You’ve tried the patches, the chewing gum?’
‘Tried them both, they did nothing much for me but gave me a headache.’
Annie sighed. ‘Well, I can’t force you to stop smoking, Amy, but I’ve got to tell you that you’re putting your baby at risk. Look, there’s one last thing to try. Would you be willing to go to the anti-smoking clinic?’
Amy’s time to sigh. ‘I’ll try anything once.’
So Annie arranged an appointment and hoped it would do some good.
Other appointments were different. There were women who were overjoyed, apprehensive but excited, bringing details of crèches and baby clothes and the choice of names. ‘It’s either Matthew after my father or Peter after my husband’s father.’
‘Both good names.’ Annie had learned to be diplomatic.
‘Of course, it might turn out to be a girl. And we just can’t decide on anything.’
These were the kinds of things Annie had to deal with. And she enjoyed doing what she could.
Then, right at the end of her list, came Mrs Kent. She was slightly older than most of the mums that day and came in looking deeply worried.
‘My husband I and have been trying for a baby for two years now,’ she said. ‘We were thinking of… of going to a specialist clinic, but then I fell pregnant naturally, and we were both delighted.’
‘Good. Now, how long have you been pregnant?’
‘We worked it out as seven weeks now.’
‘I’m pleased for you. But if everything is going well, you don’t need to see me for another four weeks.’
There was a silence. Then Mrs Kent said, ‘I had a period three days ago. I didn’t tell my husband. I didn’t take one of those tests you get from the chemist’s. I just took things easy and made an appointment to see you.’
One of the hard things to deal with. Especially with an older woman who had been trying for so long. But there was no getting round the facts. ‘Mrs Kent, roughly twenty-five per cent of mothers lose their babies in the first few weeks after conception. Sometimes it’s nature’s way of saying that things aren’t going right. Sometimes it just happens—no one knows why. It certainly doesn’t mean that you can’t go on to try again. But the first thing to do is to find out for certain whether you are pregnant or not.’
Annie took the kit from a drawer. ‘There’s a ladies’ right across the hall. I need a mid-flow specimen of urine on this stick. Go and get one and then bring it straight back to me.’
Mrs Kent did as she was told. And she and Annie looked at the little window on the stick. The result was certain: Mrs Kent was not pregnant. She sat there and wept silently.
There was not much Annie could do but comfort her. And eventually she sent Mrs Kent away, telling her to try again, and if she was not successful after a few months, to come back. It would be possible to arrange a visit to a fertility clinic.
A typical afternoon in the clinic.
Annie gathered up her notes and went to the staff lounge. There was paperwork that had to be finished before she went home. Toby was in the lounge, also working his way through a set of notes. Right now he was not the person she wanted to see. She wanted to be quiet and left alone.
‘We’ve both got to work,’ she said. ‘Let’s make a pact to keep quiet until we’ve both finished.’
He appeared surprised at that. But he merely smiled and said, ‘Whatever you want, Annie.’
And he was silent. But for some reason Annie just could not work. All she could see was Mrs Kent’s face as she’d left her room. Annie wriggled in her chair, toyed with her papers, dropped some on the floor, cursed quietly to herself when she realised she had been filling in the wrong columns on one of her forms. After twenty minutes she had achieved nothing. And Toby had noticed.
‘You’re not good,’ he said. ‘I can make you a drink or help you with your work or you can just shout at me. But something is wrong. Is it me? A worrying case this afternoon? Come on, we can talk to eac
h other about things like this.’
So she told him of Mrs Kent and he nodded understandingly. ‘It must be hard to have something you wished for so fervently just taken away from you. But you know very well that not everything is lost for Mrs Kent. You say there’s nothing apparently wrong organically. She can just try again and she’ll probably succeed.’
‘But I feel for her. Some cases you just do.’ She could tell he was trying to calm her.
‘I know. But you’ve had a rough ride over the past few days; perhaps you’re just a bit over-emotional. That’s why you’re so sympathetic with Mrs Kent.’
Annie sighed. ‘Guess so,’ she said. ‘Who’d be a doctor with an excess of emotions?’
Toby was first home that evening. Annie phoned him as soon as he got home, her voice cool. ‘Toby, can you manage without me for a couple of hours? I’ve got a few things to do.’
‘No trouble at all. Anything important to do?’
‘I’ve got my future to think of, Toby.’
He had a bad feeling as she rang off.
He picked up Charlie and the moment he held his baby, kissed him firmly on the cheek, he felt better. There was a purpose to his life.
Charlie was fine. Perhaps now he should think about Annie. Think about the things that both of them had quietly acknowledged but never spoken about. That she had hoped he would come round to loving her.
He had been so busy with Charlie that he hadn’t even thought about it. What should he do about Annie? Did he love her enough to marry her? He thought that perhaps he almost did. These past few weeks had been hard work, but bliss. Only one thing was missing. He wanted her to stay. Not for Charlie, but for him.
But marriage? Maybe they could compromise. If she wanted. He would ask her to stay on at the Dell Owen, not go to America. Not stay on at his flat either, that was an artificial situation, he couldn’t fairly ask her to do that. But if she stayed—who knew how they both might feel in the next few months? It seemed a good plan. He’d suggest it to her.
She got back to the flat earlier than she had expected. Toby was feeding Charlie. She automatically got out the bath, moved into the now well-rehearsed evening plan.
‘I thought you’d be later.’ His voice was pleasant, concerned.
‘I expected things to take longer but I was wrong.’
‘Come on, Charlie! Just one more spoonful.’ Toby managed to introduce the last of the dinner into Charlie’s rather smeared mouth.
‘Toby, next week can you manage without me for four days?’
He was obviously shocked but he rallied. ‘I’m sure I can manage. I’ll take the days off as leave if necessary. Then he said, apparently casually, ‘Any special reason?’
‘I’ll be flying to Chicago to look at this job I’ve been offered. I’ve just been to see John Bennett, told him that at the end of this rotation I’ll be leaving. You know you’ve got hardly any time to find a nanny?’
This shock did get through to him. But he wouldn’t admit it. ‘Of course I know. I’ve had it in mind. I shall summon a dozen of them and interview them one by one.’
‘Get Miranda to help you,’ Annie advised. ‘She might have contacts.’
She could see that he was nerving himself to ask, but his voice still elaborately casual.’ So you’re definitely going to leave?’
‘I went round to see Calvin. I’m to look round the hospital next week, there’ll be a job offer, and then I’ll start in about five weeks.’
‘You’re moving fast.’
‘If you’ve decided to move, you might as well move fast.’
‘I had wondered… if I could persuade you to stay here for another six months. Do another rotation, it’s very good teaching. We could see how things might develop… develop here.’
She knew what he was suggesting, had half anticipated it. But still, what she had to say was hard. ‘I don’t want things to develop,’ she said.
‘You’ll miss Charlie.’
It was almost a challenge and she had to be hard. ‘Of course I will. But I can deal with the heartache. I’ve dealt with it before.’
‘Of course you have. Well, this is interesting news. As soon as Charlie’s settled, we’ll open a bottle of wine to celebrate.’ He smiled.
Typical Toby, she thought a little sadly. Never let your feelings show through. Keep up appearances, no matter what happens.
CHAPTER TEN
The following Saturday she had free, and spent much of the day at her own flat, organising her clothes and books, throwing away what was not going to be used again, deciding on what to store and what to take with her. She was going to spend some time in America. She wanted to be organised well in advance. Besides, preparing for the trip made her more certain that it was the right thing to do.
Toby had taken Charlie to spend the day with Jack and Miranda. But he brought him back that night, and Annie had said that she’d be there at the usual time for the evening meal and bath.
She knew she was going to miss this. Right, she was going to miss it. Get over it and get on with her lift. Still…
He’s been a bit out of sorts all day,’ Toby said. ‘Grizzling, a bit lethargic.’
‘Probably picked up a bug from somewhere,’ Annie said. As she spoke, Charlie started to yell. She folded him over her arm and after a moment the yells diminished.
‘He’s quietening,’ Toby said. ‘We’ll keep an eye on him. It’s your turn to have him but would you like me to take him? He might wake in the night.’
‘I’ll take him,’ said Annie. ‘No point in altering the system.’
They had a quiet evening together, watching TV and reading. Both were perfectly polite but Annie had the feeling of something ending. And it made her sad. But she had made her choice.
She went to bed quite early. A quick glance at Charlie, he seemed pale but that was all. She read for a while and then turned off the light. She noticed that Toby was still up and wondered what he was doing.
It wasn’t the best evening she had ever spent with him.
She woke in the middle of the night. A quick glance at her bedside clock, it was just past four o’clock. And Charlie was yelling. But it wasn’t the normal scream of a baby who wanted something or was in mild discomfort. This was a high-pitched keening. Annie had heard it before and she shivered as she jumped out of bed. Charlie was in trouble and in considerable pain.
She looked down at him in his cot. He had been sick—violently sick. And when she touched his forehead she winced. His temperature was very high. She’d check it but even by touch she knew that things were serious.
Toby burst into the room without knocking. ‘Annie… is he—’
‘Toby, he’s ill. Come and look at him.’
Toby went straight to his son’s side, while Annie went to the kitchen to get a bowl of water to wash away the vomit. When she came back, Toby was sitting on the edge of her bed with Charlie on his knee. He was taking his temperature.
‘Thirty-nine degrees,’ he said. ‘Annie, that is not good.’
‘I know.’ Annie took off Charlie’s sleep suit, sponged him down. Toby laid his little boy across his knees, gently touched that part of his abdomen known as McBurney’s point. Charlie yelled even louder.
‘I think it’s appendicitis,’ Toby said. ‘I suspect it’s quite advanced and the appendix might even have ruptured. So we’ve got the danger of peritonitis and…’
Annie saw the panic in his face. ‘Toby, calm down! We’ve got to keep our heads clear. I agree with you but you don’t diagnose your own child. You need someone detached. Let’s get him to A and E and we’ll have him admitted. Then the duty registrar will see him and—’
‘We’re both doctors we can admit him ourselves. Ring the night nurse in charge on the children’s wards and tell her we’re coming in. And I don’t want the duty registrar. I’m going to phone Jack. He’s the best paediatric surgeon there is. He might be a relation but I don’t care.’
‘Right,’ said Annie. It migh
t be cutting a few corners but it made sense. ‘I’ll phone the nurse in charge, you phone Jack. Then we both get dressed.’
Fortunately she knew the nurse in charge on the children’s wards and she was willing to prepare for Charlie’s admittance at once. ‘But I want another doctor admitting him! Not a parent. And don’t worry; I’ll get everything ready that might be needed.’
‘It’s in hand,’ Annie told Toby. She dressed in seconds, found that he had done the same.
‘Quicker to take him ourselves than go by ambulance,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
She thought they had moved quickly. But Jack had moved even more quickly, and was waiting for them in the children’s section, Miranda by his side. ‘Put Charlie on that bench there,’ he said. ‘Now, quickly, Toby, tell me what you’ve observed so far.’
Annie was surprised. Toby’s account was brief, factual, and unemotional. The diagnosis of a ruptured appendix was offered as a possibility. It was the perfect retelling of observations. Then Annie looked at Toby’s face and understood. Only by being unemotional could he cope with what he had to say.
Jack nodded. ‘I think I agree with your diagnosis. I further suspect that we might have peritonitis.’
He turned to the nurse in charge, who was standing by. ‘I’d like Charlie here put on a saline drip. He’s obviously dehydrated. He looked at Charlie broodingly. ‘We could have tried massive doses of antibiotics if we’d caught this earlier. Caught this earlier! He’s been in my house all day.’
Annie felt a range of emotions but said nothing. She suspected that Jack was suffering nearly as much as Toby. But he wouldn’t show it.
‘Jack,’ Toby said, in what seemed to be an incredibly reasonable voice. ‘If there has to be a laparotomy and a lavage of the peritoneum, I want you to do it.’
‘In spite of my connection to the patient?’
‘Yes. As parent I believe I have the right to nominate a surgeon.’
Annie hated the way they were talking about Charlie, as if he were just another patient, but she understood. This distancing was necessary if Jack was to operate.
The Doctor's Baby Surprise - An Accent Amour Medical Romance Page 13