The receiver fell from her hand.
“Hullo?” The distant voice dangled at the end of the cord.
She replaced the receiver.
In her womb the baby kicked, an abrupt attack, unexpected. He’d been quiescent all morning, all through the visit to the clinic. Heartened, she changed into a comfortable house-gown, caught up on the unfinished housework, packed her hospital case and began to prepare tea.
From her bedroom, Beth called, “Mummy! Wake!”
She dressed her in play clothes, sent her outdoors to the sandpit, completed preparations for tea, showered again, changed again, fed Beth again, changed her into pyjamas again and went next door to arrange for Mrs Ryan to babysit for an hour after tea. She gave no reason, allowing her to presume that she and Rory would be visiting friends.
As always, he parked in the carport and came in the back door. “I’m home!”
“Daddy!” Beth joyfully accepted the customary hug and kisses.
“Is she all right?” He was alarmed. “Why’s she in her pyjamas?”
She pulled on the ugly brown coat. “Beth’s had her tea.”
“Is she all right? Why’s she in her pyjamas? What the hell’s going on! Where are you going?”
“Beth’s fine. Mrs Ryan will mind her till you get back.” She picked up the case at her side.
“That’s too heavy!” He took the case from her. “What’s going on, Tess?”
“We have to be there by six.”
“Where? What the hell’s going on? What’s happening?”
“It’s nothing.” She was numb. She felt…there was no feeling. “Dr Chapman has to do some tests. I’ll be in overnight.”
“What are you talking about? Why is Beth in her pyjamas? What’s Mrs Ryan got to do with this?”
“It’s all arranged.”
“For God’s sake, Tess! You’re not making sense! What’s all arranged?”
Beth was crying.
“You have to stop shouting. You’re scaring her.”
He comforted Beth. “I’m sorry, love. Daddy’s sorry, love. What’s all arranged, Tess?”
“I’ll be in overnight. Just overnight, that’s all.”
“In? In where?”
“Merton Grove.”
“Already! You’re not due. When did it start? You should have phoned. It’s early.”
“I’m not in labour. Doctor Chapman wants to do some tests.”
“What the hell for? I don’t understand. Is this usual? What’s going on, Tess?”
“Just tests. I told you. Everything’s been arranged. There’s nothing to do except drive me there.”
“Why didn’t you phone? I’d have come home. I could have come home. You should have phoned. You could have phoned.” Again, his voice was rising.
Beth clung to him.
“You’re scaring me, Tess. I don’t understand all this. Take it slowly. Tell me from the word go. You must try to calm down.”
Wasted advice. She was calm. “I’m not making sense because I don’t know what’s going on either.”
Matron had left word. Mrs McClure was to be placed in a private room.
Rory protested. “We can’t afford it.”
“It’s Doctor’s orders, Mr McClure.” The receptionist was blandly adamant, the attending nurse smoothly efficient. “He’ll call in before you sleep, Mrs McClure.”
Ushered through hushed hallways, they passed a silent kitchen, stood aside for an old man in a wheelchair and entered a small bedroom at the back of the building.
“Get undressed.” The nurse smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Can my husband stay?”
“Of course.” Leaving, she closed the door.
“I can’t stay,” Rory worried. “Beth should be in her own bed. Chapman might be hours.”
“She’ll be all right. Mrs Ryan won’t mind.”
“What about Katherine? Shouldn’t we call Katherine? I’ll phone.”He was already at the door.
Her feet were swollen, her shoes stubborn.
“Let me do that.” Returning, he gently eased the shoes from her feet. “I have to phone.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I have to. I’ll be back. Get into bed.”
Left alone, she sat on the high bed, the case unopened at her side, the blinds already drawn for the night, the ill-shaded overhead light blinding, the stark white room daunting, the distant pulse of thin evening traffic impersonal.
Rory was uncomfortable in hospitals. Hospitals were no place for a man. Even though he’d ecstatically welcomed Beth’s birth, he’d left the visits and the flowers to the women, her mother and friends and family. Each night he’d stayed for only a few minutes, happy as a sand boy; he was a father. Then he’d been off to the hotel with his brothers and his mates. That’s what fathers did. They wet the baby’s head with gallons of beer and cigars all round and jokes and morning-after hangovers – and pride. He’d sworn he’d not drunk too much. She’d never know.
Tonight he was right to leave. The phone call to her mother had to be made. As all good mother’s-in-law, should the time in hospital be longer than a single night, Katherine would keep watch over her son-in-law and grandchild.
It was as it was and as it always would be.
She opened the case.
Chapter Four
“What does Doctor Chapman say?” Katherine O’Reilly was in her dutiful place at her daughter’s bedside.
One night had become two, two had become three, three a week. Having moved in to keep house for Rory and Beth, Katherine was prepared to stay for however long she was needed. So far, Doctor Chapman had given no indication of how long that might be. He regularly took tests and just as regularly tightened dietary restrictions.
“I told you, Mum.” Totally confined to bed and reduced to a diet of lettuce leaves and barley water, she was no longer hungry. “He won’t let me go home.”
“This is all new to me,” Katherine fretted. “Rory’s right. We should get another opinion.”
“The nurses trust him, Mum. Stop fussing.”
Rearranging the immaculate pillows, Katherine sulkily thumped them into place.
“Honestly, Mum, I trust him too. We’re lucky to have him. He is a specialist.”
“So why does he stay here? He should be where specialists are. I know why he stays. He’s too old.”
“Maybe he likes the mountains. Maybe he’s happy here.”
“That’s not the point, Tess. The man’s been around far too long.”
“He’s your age, Mum,” she taunted.
Her mother blanched. “You can be so cruel, Tess.”
Truth was cruel. He mother should know that. She’d lost her husband, her sons. She prayed for happiness and she lived with unhappiness. Did she look in the mirror and still see beauty, not the truths of old age? Stop thinking. Lie still. Wait. Pray.
“This isn’t like you, Tess.” Katherine took her hand. “If he’s still a good doctor, he’s still a good doctor. He used to be. I’ll give you that. I’m worried about you. Please…don’t let us argue.”
“I’m sorry.” She was sorry. Stop feeling. Removing her imprisoned hand, she resumed knitting yet another tiny white jacket. “How’s Beth coping?”
For a moment only, Katherine sulked, then surrendered. “She misses you.”
“Tell her I miss her. I miss Rory, too. I know you’re taking turns at night, but I miss them.”
“Would you rather I come only in the afternoons? I could leave her with Mrs Ryan.”
“You could bring her.”
“You know I can’t.”
“She doesn’t upset me. Truly.”
“One visitor at a time, Tess. Doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders. You’re the one who says he knows what he’s doing.”
They fell silent, the clicking of metal knitting needles strident in the hushed cell.
Katherine was uncomfortable. “Tell me about the tests.”
“I’ve told
you.”
“You’ve told me they take blood and urine samples.” Katherine again went to the end of the bed to re-examine the medical chart. “This doesn’t tell me much.”
“They’re still concerned about the blood pressure. It won’t come down.”
“Not good enough.” Katherine slapped the chart back into place.
The clicking needles didn’t miss a beat. “Is Rory off to another meeting tonight?”
“I promised I’d be home before eight.”
“I don’t mind if you leave early, Mum.”
“If you’re sure?” Katherine was relieved.
“Rory’s future depends on after-hours commitments.” Click click. “He can’t risk his promotion. He’s worried about an extra mouth to feed. I’ll be all right.”
Katherine kissed her, paused uncertainly and padded off down the carpeted corridor.
“Tess…” Arriving as she was falling asleep, Dr Chapman switched on the shaded wall lamp. “We have to talk.”
Alarmed, she sat up.
“Let me make you comfortable.” He fetched pillows from the cupboard and gently arranged them at her back.
Something was very wrong. Rory should be here.
“I have to apologise.” He spoke softly. “I tried to get here earlier, when Rory would be here. I’m afraid it’s been one of those days.”
“If you want to talk, I’m sure Rory could get time off tomorrow.”
“Is he at home tonight?”
“He’ll still be at his meeting. Mum’s at home.”
“Katherine’s a most reliable babysitter for young Beth. So you have no problems staying here a while longer?”
“I was wondering…”
“Patience, Tess.” He set up the physogomoter, rolled up the sleeve of her nightgown, tightened the black band around her upper arm, read the gauge, refolded the equipment and repacked it in its worn black case.
She waited.
“Sister will be along shortly.” Gently, he readjusted the rolled-up sleeve. “We need to bring you on.”
Rory should be here.
“Everything’s under control, my dear. The time has come. We’ll induce the birth.”
“Rory can get time off. He’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Tess?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“We induce early labour. There’s to be no more waiting for you, young lady.”
“Shouldn’t Rory be here?”
“We plan to initiate the procedure tomorrow morning. A good night’s sleep. A brief trip to theatre. You’ll be in labour before you know it. What do you want?”
“How do you mean?”
“Boy or girl?” He patted her shoulder. “Boy? Put in your order – we’ll try to please.”
“Rory wants a son.”
“Of course he does. We did try to contact him earlier at work. He was out on a job, they tell me.”
“He’s up for another promotion. It means a lot more running around.”
“Rory’s a good lad.”
“He works hard.”
“So,” he patted her shoulder. “I’ll leave you, Tess. Sister will settle you in.”
Switching off the bed lamp, she settled more comfortably against the stacked pillows, pulled the blankets to her chin and prepared for a long wait.
The distant hum of a heavy motor on the mountain highway was the only sound, the pervasive odour of antiseptics the only indication of life, hospital life.
Wherever they were and whatever they were doing, the nurses were professionally soundless. Should she remain propped up like this? Should she throw the pillows on the floor and try to sleep? Should she disobey orders and get out of bed? Or ring the bell? Had they forgotten her? Had Doctor Chapman forgotten to call sister? What would Rory think? What would he say? Would he be here in the morning? She should try to sleep.
A thin light approaching heralded the arrival of the night sister. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs McClure,” the nurse whispered. “We’ve had a very busy night. Doctor explained about tomorrow?”
“He said you’d be here tonight.”
“Good girl.” By the light of the torch, the nurse poured water from the bedside carafe and placed two white capsules in her hand. “Pop these in. Down the hatch.”
“I don’t think I can sleep.”
“That’s what these little treasures are for, dear.” The excess pillows were removed and the blankets tightly tucked around her.”Sleep tight. We’ll be in early. Don’t worry.”
Alone again; the black room spasmodically lit by a flash of car lights circling ceiling and walls, the silence erratically punctured by the disruptive roar of a few late timber trucks, once, by the hopeless grinding of a crippled motor. And, again, neither sight nor sound of people. The hospital might well have been empty.
At last, finally, the waiting was to end. Katherine would help with Beth and the new baby. Rory would be pleased. He should have been here. He’d come tomorrow. He’d arrange time off. A boy…
They woke her at dawn. “Right, Mrs McClure? Here we go…”
“Roll over, love.”
“On your side, Mrs McClure. On your side, please.”
A needle jabbed into her thigh.
“Good girl. Roll back. Good girl. Now, can you heave yourself onto the trolley?”
Not fully awake, she struggled. “It’s awkward.”
“Of course it is, love.”
They assisted her from the bed onto the adjacent trolley. “You must be cold, love.”
A blanket engulfed her.
“Better? That’s the girl.”
Shaded overhead lights, the uneven rumble of trundling wheels, the glaring lights of the theatre and Dr Chapman’s masked face. “How are we this morning, Tess?”
“This’ll only take a moment, Mrs McClure. Just relax.” A fading voice and receding faces…
The ceiling rolled overhead, the uneven wheels trundled and her helpless body was heaved back into the bed in the private bedroom. She slept, woke to dull pain and slept again.
“Tess!” Doctor Chapman woke her. “How are we?”
His face remained distant.
“I’ll call back later.”
The labour contractions, familiar pain, arrived between timeless chunks of heavy sleep. Dr Chapman did not return. Each time she woke, Rory was holding her hand. Matron supervised until, when they wheeled her back to theatre, the hands of the theatre clock were pointing to five past four. Rory was not there.
“Not long, Tess…” A disembodied voice promising conclusion.
Little pain, no pain, masked pain.
Four-ten…
Four-eleven…
Four-twelve…
The slow hands of the theatre clock mocked. Four-thirty-one…
“The head! Mrs McClure! Mrs McClure! Doctor’s here…”
“That’s the girl.”
Sudden agony. She screamed.
“Hang on, love…”
She screamed.
“I’ve got it…”
“It’s over, Tess. It’s a boy.”
Falling…
“Tess! Tess!” A woman’s voice. “Tess – Mrs McClure!”
Heavy eyelids not moving.
“Tess… try…”
She was trying.
“Tess! Wake up!”
The bedroom was scented. “I’m awake.”
“Good girl.” The nurse set a vase of yellow roses on the bedside table. “You have a son, Mrs McClure. Your husband’s outside. I’ll help you pretty yourself up for him.”
She was bathed, changed and propped up on fresh pillows.
He came in on hushed feet, his face drawn and his eyes redrimmed. “How do you feel, love?”
“Have you seen him, Rory?”
“How do you feel?” He kissed her, his unshaven bristles scratching her face.
“Didn’t you go to work today?”
“I’m sorry, love
. I should have shaved. We’ve been so worried.”
“It’s a boy, Rory. A boy. It’s a boy.”
“Tess…”
“Here we are.” The nurse wheeled in a blanketed bassinet. “Lift your wife, Mr McClure. She can see him.”
The tiny face in the bassinet was waxen and jaundiced. He was asleep, one fist curled onto the blue blanket covering him.
“Can I hold him?”
“He’s a wee prem, Mrs McClure. You understand?”
“Can I hold him?”
“Better not, Tess.” Rory pressed her back against the pillows.
She resisted. “What’s wrong!”
The baby whimpered.
“I want to hold him!”
“Shhh…Tess…shhh…”
The tiny fist uncurled to five thin convulsively clutching fingers.
“I’ll take him back to the nursery.” The nurse eased the bassinet from the room.
She struggled. “Stop her!”
“Lie back! Lie back, Tess!”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s premature, love. You knew he’d have a battle.”
“Doctor Chapman? Where’s Doctor Chapman?”
“We’ve talked.” He was crying. “We’ve talked.”
She tried to hold him. Weak, she fell back.
“Tess…”
She’d never seen him cry.
He straightened. “They said he’s not strong enough.”
Their son should be here with them.
“We’ll pray, Tess.”
Of course.
“I brought it for you.” Opening his wallet, he unwrapped the precious silver crucifix. Together, they held it. The room was without sound, not even the sound of Rory’s tears. Not even the scream she did not scream.
Outside the sky darkened. Someone switched on the passage light outside their door. Someone offered to switch on the bedroom light. Rory waved them away. She slept, dozed, drifted into nightmare and still the scream was silent.
Throughout the darkened hospital, the hush of unseen sleep was magnified by the whispered brush of slippered feet and the intermittent rustle of a starched uniform. Torch in hand, the night nurse placed sleeping pills on the bedside table.
“You need to take them, Tess,” Rory pressed.
“Doctor’s orders, Mrs McClure.” The nurse supervised the medication.
Autumn Music Page 5