by Amy Andrews
She smiled down at the framed photo as she remembered the day it was taken. They’d had a wonderful family barbeque in their Bondi courtyard with her parents and her sister Rose and her husband Paul and, of course, baby Thomas.
He had completely unashamedly hogged the limelight. It had been a hot summer’s day and they had all walked down to the beach a few hours later. Gill had been roped into making a sandcastle with his nephew. Thomas loved his Uncle Gill and that day he had tugged at Gill’s hand and dragged his reluctant uncle to the paltry mound of sand he’d been constructing.
Gill had made it into a beautiful Renaissance-style château and a two-year-old Thomas had been in complete awe of it, loving his uncle all the more. She had snapped the shot of them while they hadn’t been looking. Thomas had been sitting between Gill’s legs, a shell poised in one hand to decorate the outer wall, and was looking up at his uncle for advice, and Gill had been pointing to the appropriate place.
Harriet loved the photo. It was hardly professional quality—the background was wrong and they weren’t looking, let alone smiling, at the camera, but it was the type of photo that if her house had been burning down she’d have run back in to save. It held so many nice memories and the look of total admiration and complete and utter trust in Thomas’s eyes was something she doubted any professional photo shoot would have captured. It had been a totally candid moment and she knew she would treasure it for ever.
It wasn’t long after that photo had been taken that they’d found out about Harriet’s Fallopian tube and the arguments had started. She placed it in her backpack with a sigh. The photo made her feel restless…and sad, and she was already sad enough. She pushed open the French doors and walked out into the afternoon heat.
She leant against the balustrade. The sun was beginning its descent and the sky was already brilliant shades of red, gold and orange. It was a beautiful ochre sunset and she acknowledged that it was one of the things she would miss about being here. It was a land of extremes, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
She could see the old basketball court in the distance, where a few hardy weeds struggled through the cracked, neglected concrete. She was sure that in the convent’s heyday the court would have been thronged with kids, but now the deserted cement was used as the MedSurg helipad.
A dreadful noise like a siren split the air, and for a moment Harriet wondered if Kelly had pushed the incoming-wounded alarm. A rustle of movement below caught her eye and she realised it was a human wail. Nimuk’s mother sat on the steps of the med building, Theire at her side, repeatedly slapping her forehead as she rocked back and forth.
Her heart-wrenching keening sounded so forlorn, so tragic that Harriet felt tears prick her eyes and got goose-bumps. The grief-stricken cry rang around the cluster of buildings, announcing Nimuk’s death.
There was something so base, so elementally human about the long continuous wail that it tore at the fabric of Harriet’s soul. And yet there was an animal quality about it, too. It verged on demented, insane—like a wounded beast crazed with pain.
Harriet felt the tears roll down her cheeks, a stranger’s grief the key to unravelling the emotions that had been coiling tightly inside her since that morning. For once she let them flow, instead of chiding herself for being too involved. She cried for Nimuk and his mother, for Henri and Peter, for herself and Gill and the demise of their marriage, and that Gill would never sit on a beach, making sandcastles with their child. Her muted sobs were completely obliterated by the distress and torment of the grieving mother.
A few minutes later the noise stopped as abruptly as it had started and Harriet dried her tears. How many had she shed over Gill and herself these last two years? She’d lost count. It was time to stop lamenting what she couldn’t have. There were worse things that could happen to a person in this world, Nimuk being a good case in point. What was her grief compared to Nimuk’s mother’s?
‘Everything OK, Harry?’
Harriet hadn’t heard Katya’s approach over her own tears and the wailing mother. She shook her head, not trusting her voice, still a little too overwrought to talk. She swallowed hard against another threatening fog of emotion caused by Katya’s gentle enquiry.
‘Rough day?’
She nodded and cleared her throat. ‘I came out to enjoy the sunset and then Nimuk’s mother…’
‘Da,’ Katya said. ‘I heard. It’s very sad.’
Harriet nodded, the urge to laugh hysterically bubbling inside at Katya’s typical understatement. It wasn’t that Katya was unemotional—in fact, she was probably the most intensely fiery and passionate of all of them—but she’d had her release today and now she was just getting on with it.
Harriet fanned her hands in front of her face, feeling the heat there. ‘I’m sorry. I must look a state,’ she said, conscious now that her eyes must be red-rimmed and her face all blotchy.
‘Is this just about Nimuk?’ Katya asked, her shrewd gaze doing a detailed inspection over Harriet’s face. ‘Are you and Gill all right?’
It was on the tip of Harriet’s tongue to deny any problems. In fact, the words nearly came out before she changed her mind. She’d been sick of carrying it around by herself for two months. The sudden urge to unburden herself was intense. ‘No, we’re not all right. We’re all wrong, actually.’
Katya nodded. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, everything sounded all right this morning.’
Harriet gave a tight laugh. That morning seemed so long ago now. ‘Sex has never been our problem, Katya.’
‘So? What is it?’
Harriet hesitated. She didn’t know how much Katya knew or had been able to piece together about her and Gill’s problems. For all she knew, Gill could have kept everyone up to date. But she doubted it. Gill had always done a bit of an ostrich act and she was convinced, despite their year-long separation, that he had just been waiting for her to come to her senses so they could get on with their lives.
‘I want a baby, Katya.’
‘Ah.’ The other woman nodded sagely. She’d known Gill long enough to know all about his vehement stance on children.
‘He signed the divorce papers this morning.’
‘What? What divorce papers?’ asked an incredulous Katya.
Harriet was surprised at her reaction. She and Gill had been separated for a year after all. Or was Katya like Gill, also just waiting for Harriet to come to her senses and resume her natural position, by her husband’s side? Did the whole team think that, too? Had their joyous celebrations when she’d come back been because they’d been relieved she’d seen the light?
‘I want a baby, Katya. He doesn’t. I can’t stay with him and deny myself the one thing I want more than anything.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. There is more than one way to skin a cat, Harry. Just get pregnant—easy.’
Harriet gasped and felt her eyes widen at Katya’s matter-of-fact solution. Although she shouldn’t have been surprised. The Russian nurse was nothing if not practical. ‘I could never do that, Katya! I could never trap him like that.’
‘Is not trapping,’ she said, being practical again. ‘You are already married.’
Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘No, Katya. I would never do that. Never! I want him to want to have a baby with me. Want it with every fibre of his being. I don’t want to “accidentally” fall pregnant and have to live with knowing deep down that I forced Gill’s hand.’
‘Gill would make an excellent father,’ said Katya.
‘I know, I know,’ Harriet agreed. ‘That’s what makes me so crazy. You should see him with my nephew. He’s fantastic, and little Thomas just adores him. I just don’t understand him.’
‘Some men are just too stubborn and male to realise it. Some men need a bit of a push.’
Harriet was horrified by the conversation. Yes, right at the beginning the same evil thought had reared its ugly head, but she hadn’t even considered it. That wasn’t playing fair and she’d refused to stoop to
such lows.
And now she was having this conversation with a woman seven years younger than her. But the really awful thing was that in her emotional state it was beginning to sound almost reasonable. She shook herself.
‘I don’t want any baby that he doesn’t want, too, Katya.’
‘So that’s it? All over, red rover?’
Harriet smiled at Katya’s use of Australian colloquialisms. It sounded strange in her accent. All over,’ she whispered.
‘You two are fools,’ said Katya. ‘Look out there.’ Her arm gestured to the great dry land. ‘Some people never get a chance at a love like yours. Isn’t that enough to keep working at it?’
Once she would have thought so but, no, just having his love wasn’t enough any more. She wanted more. Needed more. Harriet stared at her helplessly. Katya shook her head and withdrew.
Harriet knew Katya was right, but two years of wanting it had skewed it out of all proportion. She placed a hand on her stomach as the dull ache continued in her abdomen. It was a good match for the one that had taken up permanent residence in her heart.
Was she going to ache for ever?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
1700 HOURS
GILL could hear the laughter drifting out to meet him in the hallway as he strode towards the dining room. He felt relieved that everyone was laughing again. It had been a subdued couple of hours. No one looked up as he entered, engrossed as they were in their game of poker.
‘Deal me in,’ he said, picking up a cashew from the bowl in the centre of the table and sitting down between Harriet and Siobhan.
Harriet could feel his male heat almost instantly and wondered if there would ever be a time that his mere presence didn’t have an effect on her. After seven years of being together her reactions hadn’t dulled one iota. She fervently hoped there was a man somewhere out there in the world who could make her forget Gill, erase thoughts of him, sounds of him, smells of him. Or she was in serious trouble.
Gill picked up his cards and took his share of plastic chips out of Helmut’s felt-lined case, and thanked God for it. It came with Helmut on every mission, even if it meant he had to sacrifice space for clothes, and had been used to while away many a boring hour.
Such was the nature of their work. Frantic hours of intense surgery, churning through a multitude of casualties, mending and patching, mending and patching. And then hours of nothing.
Not that the nothing usually went on for long. Occasionally they were blessed with a day’s respite…occasionally. And it was in these down times, when they weren’t catching up on their sleep, that they played poker.
He looked across at the other table. Some of Ben’s team were playing Scrabble. They were quiet, concentrating intensely on their letters and the board. The others were lounging around, reading. A stark contrast to the hilarity and camaraderie of his close-knit team.
Gill couldn’t help but compare the two. The difference between a team that had been together for a long time and a new one were glaringly obvious. Ben’s team didn’t yet have the closeness that was essential in this business. That took a while to develop but when it did, it was pure magic. And one of the many reasons he wanted to do this for ever.
Gill was conscious of Harriet beside him. He had heard Nimuk’s mother a little while ago and had known how upset she would be. He had tried to resist the urge to seek her out. But it had been strange to deny such a basic instinct, stranger still that he hadn’t realised how natural it was for him to play the role of her comforter. Unfortunately it was the kind of dynamic that had to stop. They were going to be divorced soon.
He assumed that eventually they’d both start new relationships, even though he knew he would never marry again. But Harriet wanted a baby—she would no doubt remarry—and while he hoped they could keep things amicable, there was such a thing as being too close. He doubted Harry’s new husband would appreciate a third person in their relationship.
Anyway, he’d failed at stopping himself from going to her. He had gone to her room and seen her standing out on the balcony, and had been making his way out to her when he’d realised Katya had beaten him to it. So he had withdrawn, but not before he had heard Katya’s shocking suggestion and Harriet’s horrified rejection.
He didn’t know how he would have reacted if Harry had deliberately set out to get pregnant. He would have been angry at being thrust into a situation he didn’t want to be in, that’s for sure. But realistically what could he have done? Made her terminate the baby? No—she wouldn’t have done it and it wasn’t something he would have asked of her. Left? No—that was more her style.
He probably would have just lumped it, but he didn’t think the resentment he would feel would be at all healthy for their long-term relationship. There had to be trust in a marriage, and if he couldn’t trust her then ultimately it didn’t matter how much he loved her.
Helmut made a grunting, attention-seeking noise and Gill realised they were waiting for him to discard. He hadn’t even looked at his cards. Oh, he’d been staring at them for long enough but his preoccupied mind hadn’t registered any of them.
He caught Siobhan’s gaze over the top of his cards and she winked at him. She was wearing her usual smug smile and Gill had no doubt she’d clean them all out like she usually did. Siobhan always claimed it was the luck of the Irish but Gill had a feeling that she’d been gambling since she’d first learnt to count! He’d bet his last chip she’d grown up at her father’s knee. And Daddy was a bookie! Plus, she was an excellent bluffer. Her poker face was true Las Vegas—her pile of chips was already double any one else’s!
A pair of kings. He tossed three cards out, holding Siobhan’s unwavering gaze. He got the impression she knew exactly what he was holding in his hand. She was a card counter. He had watched her do it several times. He picked up his replacements and was careful not to give away the fact that they were rubbish. Everyone else folded. He tossed out a chip—she was not going to bluff him this time.
‘Raise you another,’ she said calmly.
He raised her again. She reciprocated and then so did he. Clink. Another of her chips hit the growing pile in the middle of the table.
Harriet watched them go back and forth. ‘You know you’re going to lose, right?’ she said to him.
‘Nonsense,’ he dismissed jovially. ‘Not with this hand.’
‘Oh, yeah. Bet she’s really scared,’ said Katya, and they all laughed at her deadpan expression.
‘Raise you another one,’ Siobhan said, tossing in another chip.
‘Back at ya,’ he said, adding his.
‘Give in, man, you can’t win,’ said Joan.
‘Never say never,’ Gill chided lightly as his chips dwindled down to the last few. The kitty was very healthy.
‘I’ll see you,’ said Siobhan.
Damn! He’d hoped he could bluff her into folding. ‘Pair of kings,’ he said, with a confidence he didn’t feel.
She leaned in close and whispered, ‘Full house.’
The table erupted in whistles and cheers as Siobhan all but cleaned Gill out. Helmut gave her a high five.
They kept playing for a while longer. Gill won back some of his chips, mainly from Harriet who was particularly hopeless at poker, but Siobhan had them all cleaned out within half an hour.
Helmut threw his cards on the table in frustration. ‘How does she do that?’ he asked no one in particular.
Just then they heard a muffled explosion. It was off somewhere in the distance, not close but not too far away either. Several more followed in short succession.
The atmosphere changed abruptly. There was tension now among the group, alertness. Cards remained unshuffled, magazines unread, Scrabble tiles untouched as they strained their ears and listened in silence to the popping of distant gunfire and the crump of explosions that continued unabated. It sounded like fireworks but they all knew it wouldn’t be remotely pretty when the wounded started to arrive.
Harriet shuddered. It was a
sound she’d never got used to. She glanced at Gill. His reaction was different. She could see the surgeon appearing before her eyes. She could see him calculating arrival times and operating schedules, priming himself for action. He was so cut out for this type of work. How could she ask him to leave it?
‘We’d better eat something,’ said Gill. ‘No telling when we’ll next get the chance.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
1800 HOURS
THE incoming-wounded siren wailed across the complex as they were tucking into their reheated frozen dinners. Harriet knew it was coming, the noises of war hadn’t stopped for over half an hour, but the siren was at just the right pitch. It made her jump every time.
‘Twelve more hours,’ muttered Katya to no one in particular. ‘Couldn’t they have waited twelve more hours to kill each other?’
‘Apparently not,’ said Helmut, pushing away his half-eaten dinner.
Gill scraped his chair back and walked over to the ringing wallphone near the door.
‘Kelly? What’s the story?’
He nodded a lot and said ‘Mmm’ a lot and then replaced the receiver. ‘The first wave will be arriving in the next fifteen minutes. We should expect the first patient in half an hour.’
The two teams took in Gill’s statement in silence. No one got up or rushed and hurried around. The theatres were still set to go from the helicopter crash earlier so all they needed were the patients. Instead, they took a moment to have some silent reflection, mental preparation for the next few gruelling hours.
Gill wondered if they would still be operating in the morning when their flight was supposed to be leaving. It had happened before. One chopper had flown in with two replacement teams, an hour had been scheduled for handover then the same chopper had flown out an hour later with the two incumbent teams. But Gill had never thought it fair on the newbies to have to hit the ground running, and knew he wouldn’t leave the operating theatre until the victims of this latest skirmish had all been dealt with. The helicopter would just have to wait.