Their Double Baby Gift

by Louisa Heaton

  She had to look away. Had to blink a few times to rid herself of the tears that were suddenly threatening. If Jen were here she’d be having a laugh a minute and Brooke knew it. Jen should be here. Singing with her baby. But she wasn’t. And all because of a cruel twist in fate. Brooke was here instead, with Jen’s husband, and suddenly it felt wrong. Very wrong, indeed. This was all just too cosy, too soon.

  She put down her tea, scooped up Morgan and stood up. ‘I think I need to go.’

  Matt got to his feet. ‘Go? It’s not finished.’

  ‘I just need to—’

  He laid a hand on her arm. ‘Dr Bailey.’ He made her look at him. ‘Take a breath. That’s it. In for three and out for three. Nice and steady.’

  He waited until he saw the panic leave her features.

  ‘She would have wanted you here. With us. With Lily. She’s not, but she would have wanted you here. To...’ he smiled ‘...endure this. Come on...maybe in part two we can make a request. I think we ought to ask for “Incy Wincy Spider”. What do you think?’

  She was trying not to be taken in by those eyes of his. Perfectly blue, thickly lashed with dark hair. ‘I hate spiders.’ She could imagine him leaping to her rescue to rid her of an eight-legged arachnid.

  ‘Then what would you ask for?’

  She thought for a second. ‘“Jack and Jill went up the hill”?’

  He seemed amused. ‘Why that one?’

  ‘Jack breaks his crown. I always liked the idea of fixing him afterwards.’

  ‘And Jill? She came tumbling after.’

  ‘Why not? In my version she breaks a bone or two.’

  Matt settled her back on the carpet and handed her the cup of tea. ‘We can get through anything together. You and I are strong.’

  ‘You think so? I don’t feel particularly strong sometimes.’

  ‘Like Jack, it doesn’t matter how many times we fall. As long as we always get up again. Do you keep getting up again, Dr Bailey?’

  ‘I think I do.’

  A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘I’m glad.’

  * * *

  Brooke made it through the next thirty minutes of singing. At first she just mouthed along, not feeling any of it, but as Morgan began to smile and squeal at all the actions, jiggling along, she soon got into her rhythm and started singing out loud, not giving one jot that she couldn’t hold a note.

  Who cared? Were the babies going to criticise her? Hardly. And the other mothers? Well, she was never going to see these people again. She could sound like a gurgling gutter and it wouldn’t matter.

  She was pleased she had come. And she was pleased to have come with Matt and seen him out of their work environment. He was a completely different person dressed in a long sleeved tee shirt and jeans. So strange, having only ever seen him in scrubs or a shirt and tie.

  She was fastening Morgan into her car seat, clipping the buckles together and then closing the car door, when she became aware that Matt was waiting for her. She smiled at him and thanked him for asking her there.

  ‘It was my pleasure.’

  ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you next week. Have a good weekend, Major.’

  ‘You too, Dr Bailey.’

  ‘Drive safely.’

  ‘Always.’ He began to walk away, but as he did so something inside her made her call out. ‘Major Galloway...? There’s a fireworks display in a couple of weeks in Hammersmith. It’s meant to be really good... I’ve been looking forward to taking Morgan and I wondered if—you can say no... I won’t mind...’

  Spend more time with the lovely Matt Galloway? Was that wise? Was she being ridiculous to invite him? To offer to spend more of her free time with him?

  How is that ridiculous? You’re just being a friend.

  ‘Er...’

  ‘If I can get through the singing then it’s only fair that you get through a few sparklers.’

  She could see he was agonising over it. Had she pushed too hard? Was she reading too much into this friendship that he had promised to honour?

  ‘Okay.’

  She nodded. ‘Great.’

  ‘I’ll see you on Monday, Dr Bailey.’

  ‘Goodbye, Major.’ And with a small wave she got into her car and started the engine.

  Friendship was a strange thing indeed. It could develop at a lightning pace, go places you’d never imagined and hopefully tie you to someone you would trust your life to.

  Whilst Jen had been alive Brooke had never really asked her too much about Matt, and Jen had hardly mentioned him. Acting the single parent to be in solidarity with Brooke’s lonesome status? It had never occurred to her to ask more about the man that her best friend had loved.

  But now she had the chance to know him.

  And she was glad that she did.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LILY WAS IN bed fast asleep and Matt was sitting on the couch, holding a cup of coffee and staring at the picture on the mantelpiece.

  It was a picture that he and Jen had had taken on his last leave. He in his army uniform, Jen with her back to him, leaning against him as his hands embraced the gentle swell of her pregnant abdomen.

  They were both smiling. Both of them imagining the brilliant future before them. His career in the army had been going strong, they’d been about to become parents for the first time and were at the start of their parenthood journey.

  It was a trip that he had expected to take with his wife, yet now he was walking alone.

  It was hard sometimes to look at that picture. Because how could they have known that everything was about to change for the worse? He hadn’t known that that was one of the last times he would ever hold her. Hold them both. The only thing he could hold now was memories. And they were fleeting. Like trying to hold a cloud.

  But he could hold Lily, and she was the burning image of her mother. Cute blonde hair, twinkling cheeky eyes. And that chuckle of hers... It didn’t ever fail to make him laugh, too. It was such pure delight.

  Jen would have loved to hear it. To be there for her daughter. Neither of them had suspected that she would succumb to eclampsia. Her pregnancy had been problem-free up to that point. Jen had been an extremely healthy person. She’d run half-marathons for charity every year. Had played in the hospital netball team when she could. The news from his General that Jen had been put on a life support machine had been like a tragic joke. Unbelievable. Surely they’d meant someone else?

  Yet it had been horribly true, and each night when Lily was in bed Matt would sit in the heavy silence of the house and be thankful for having got through another day. It was all he requested from life now. Making it from sun-up to sunset. He had no more aspirations than that apart from ensuring that Lily was happy. She was his life now. His number one reason for putting one step in front of another.

  It had been difficult in the early days. Caring for a newborn whilst in the grip of grief. People—family, friends—had helped as much as they could. But after a time their own lives, naturally, had pulled them away. And he’d emerged from the dark mire of his pain determined to provide the best life he could for his daughter. Not to flit from one posting to another but to take root, to stay in his new job at London Grace and be the best father he could for his little girl.

  Meeting Dr Brooke Bailey had been a surprising bonus. When he’d been accepted by the hospital trust to take on his wife’s post he’d known that at some point he would meet the woman who had recently been his wife’s confidante. And she was every bit the wonderful person Jen had told him about.

  And, though he’d only known her for such a short time—just a few weeks—he did feel as if they had a bond. Their mutual love of Jen, their work, and the fact that they were both single-handedly raising little girls. Since meeting Brooke he’d wondered if she sat in
her own home at night, nursing a cup of cocoa, wondering what might have been if fate hadn’t designated her to raise a child alone? How her life might be different with someone in it to help her?

  Not that she needed someone. He wasn’t implying that she couldn’t do it alone. But Matt knew what having someone to love and lean on felt like, and he hoped for her that one day she would find that happiness.

  * * *

  The paramedics had wheeled in a little old lady, swaddled in a blanket, strapped to a chair. Ambling along behind them, struggling to keep pace, was an elderly gent whom Matt presumed was the husband.

  Tina, the paramedic, handed over the details. ‘This is Patricia Hodgson. She’s ninety-one years young and a resident at Castle House. Normally fit and well, Patricia was found this morning by her husband, Arthur, with a droop to the left side of her face and aphasia. A FAST test was positive. BP was ninety over sixty and pulse eighty-four. SATS were normal at ninety-five per cent, but oxygen therapy was given anyway. Patricia was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s two years ago and has a previous history of breast cancer during her seventieth year.’

  Matt thanked the paramedics and organised his team, including Brooke, to transfer Patricia from the chair to a bed so the ambulance crew could leave and get to their next job.

  Patricia looked tiny and frail upon the bed, and he noticed how gentle Brooke was with her as she covered the old lady’s legs with a blanket and spoke gently to her, explaining what she was doing.

  Patricia’s husband, Arthur, stood off to one side, looking frightened and lost. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked in a frightened, gravelly voice.

  Matt introduced himself to the husband. ‘I’m Major Galloway and I’m going to be in charge of your wife’s care, Mr Hodgson.’

  ‘Arthur.’

  ‘Arthur. It appears your wife has had a stroke and that the event has damaged the side of your wife’s brain that deals with speech. I’m going to get her assessed quickly and then we’ll get her off for a scan to see just what type of stroke she’s had.’

  ‘I just want her to be all right. She’s frightened by strange places.’

  Matt understood. For Alzheimer’s patients, strange places that they did not know could cause undue stress. It was imperative that they keep everything as calm as they could.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to come and hold your wife’s hand?’ Brooke suggested.

  ‘Won’t I be getting in the way?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Matt issued instructions to his team and watched as they all busied themselves around Mrs Hodgson, taking readings, assessments, and doing so in such a way that they did not upset their patient any more than she already was. The world was a confusing place for anyone with Alzheimer’s, and not being able to communicate properly had to be an added upset. Not being able to find your memories was one thing. Not being able to find the right words for things must be torture.

  When she was stable they took her to be scanned, to see if she’d had a bleed or whether there was a thrombus, or clot, that might need dissolving. A thrombolytic drug would do that, though there were dangers associated with its use.

  ‘Is your wife on any medication that we should know about?’ asked Brooke.

  ‘Erm... I think she’s on a statin, and something else, but she’s not very good at taking them regularly. The nurses have a hard time getting her to swallow her medication. It’s in this bag here.’

  Arthur handed over to Brooke a small white paper bag that had various boxes in it. She passed it to Matt.

  There weren’t any drugs there to treat the Alzheimer’s. There was no cure for the condition, although some drugs had been developed to try and slow down the progression of the disease. Matt noted the drugs that Arthur had brought in and wrote down his team’s observations on Patricia’s condition. It was all done within ten minutes of her arriving.

  ‘Let’s move her to Scanning, please,’ Matt instructed.

  They all walked together to the scanning room and watched as the images came down on the screens. A clot was noted in one of Patricia’s smaller vessels and when they took her back to Majors department Matt discussed with Arthur the pros and cons of the thrombolytic.

  ‘You do what you have to do, Doc.’

  ‘Thank you. As your wife is unable to give me verbal consent, it’s important that I get your permission. We’ll give her the medication and then observe her closely.’

  ‘And then she’ll be able to talk to me again?’

  Matt could hear the distress in the husband’s voice. ‘Hopefully.’

  ‘She’s all I’ve got. Me and her...we’re the only ones left. She doesn’t always remember me, but when she does she likes to talk. Words are all we have. And music. Funny how she can remember song lyrics from the nineteen-forties yet not remember me.’

  ‘Alzheimer’s is a difficult condition. It chips away at people. From one day to the next you don’t know which piece has been taken until suddenly it’s not there any more.’

  Arthur nodded, his face grim. ‘When memories are all she has, it’s heartbreaking when she loses them. Not for her, so much. But for me. I need her to still be with me, you know?’

  Matt did know, and nodded solemnly. He administered the drug that Patricia needed and went to update his notes. When he came back to check on her Arthur was sitting next to her, holding her hand as she dozed.

  ‘Are you married, Doctor?’ Arthur asked.

  How was he to answer that? Yes? No?

  ‘I was. Once.’

  Arthur turned to look at him through rheumy eyes, hidden behind thick glasses. ‘Was it happy?’

  Now, that was easier to answer. ‘It was.’

  ‘I’ve had sixty-three years with my Patty. Sixty-three glorious years. There were moments, I’m sure, when she would’ve liked to have had me done in, but mostly we got on. She was a wonderful wife.’

  ‘She still is.’

  The old man nodded and looked back to his beloved in the bed. ‘Yes. She is, but...’ He shook his head, rubbing at his brow with his free hand. ‘I feel selfish sometimes. And cruel.’

  Matt tried to work out what he meant. ‘Why cruel?’

  ‘Since she was diagnosed with the Alzheimer’s I’ve had to say goodbye to my wife. For the last two years I’ve watched her slowly vanish. There were times I wanted to shake her, to tell her it was me, her husband, to beg her for a moment when she might recognise me again. Then a few months back there came a day when she was lucid. She knew who she was, where she was, who I was—but the most horrible thing of all was that she knew what was wrong with her. What had happened to her and that soon she would be lost again. I’ve never seen my wife so terrified, Doctor. She grabbed my hands, begged me to stay with her until the end. Then, when the disease claimed her again, I was grateful. Grateful! And now all I want is for it to be over for her. So that it’ll be over for me.’

  Matt listened intently, understanding the man’s pain. ‘That’s not selfishness. It’s self-preservation. It’s love. You don’t want to see her suffer any more.’

  Arthur met his gaze and nodded. ‘I don’t. I really don’t. I’ve said goodbye so many times, thinking it was the end. Now, with the stroke, I wonder if it really is. Because I’m not sure I’m ready.’

  ‘None of us are ever ready to say goodbye.’

  He laid a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder and stood for a moment, watching Patricia’s breathing. As he watched she opened her eyes a little and looked around the small bay in which she was situated, her gaze eventually falling on her husband.

  ‘Arthur?’

  Her husband grasped her hand. ‘Oh! Patty!’

  ‘Is it time for bed, yet, Arthur?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my love! Yes, it is.’

  Matt left them to have a moment alone and went to co
mplete his notes. He sat at the desk, deep in thought.

  Arthur had been saying goodbye for two years and it still wasn’t enough time. And even though his situation was stressful Matt still felt that the man was lucky. He’d got to say goodbye. To hold his wife’s hand. And no doubt when the time eventually came he would have the chance to be with her at the end.

  Was he envious of Arthur?

  As he considered this Brooke came into Majors with the results of Patty’s blood tests.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Talking.’

  ‘That’s good. That’s progress.’

  ‘Yeah...’

  He could feel her looking at him.

  ‘Why so blue?’

  ‘Because he gets to be with his wife as she nears the end. I never got that, and sometimes it just makes me feel like...’

  ‘Like what?’

  He laughed. ‘Do you know what my wife’s last words were?’

  Brooke shook her head. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘She was with her mum. Her mum had driven Jen to the hospital because of how unwell she was feeling. She was trying to be bright and optimistic, as she always was, and apparently the last conversation they had was about whether Jen should get her nose pierced.’

  He looked at Brooke to see her reaction.

  She smiled. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Yeah. Because she was talking about normal stuff. Everyday stuff. She didn’t spend her last few minutes of consciousness terrified and crying. She was being herself. So...that’s good.’

  He looked back at the old couple, clutching each other’s hands and staring into each other’s eyes. ‘I never thought about it like that before.’

  Brooke glanced over at Arthur and Patty too. ‘They seem very dedicated to each other.’

  ‘He said they’ve been together for sixty-three years. I can’t even imagine what that might feel like.’

  ‘Sixty-three years of marriage?’ Brooke sighed, supporting her chin on the back of her hand as she leant against the desk. ‘I think that would be comfortable. Warm and snug, like a nest. All those years, all that history, surrounding you both like a safety net.’