A Child To Call Her Own

by Gill Sanderson

  Maria winced as she entered the room, tried not to look too hard at it. She was led through to a bedroom. A dirty double bed, rickety wardrobe and drawers, clothes on the floor. And a white-faced Tracy who didn't look at all good. But her face showed relief when she saw who it was. 'Maria, I think it's coming...' she moaned. The bed got all wet and I've got these pains and—'

  'It can't be coming, Lovett snapped.

  'Babies don't follow a timetable,' Maria said. 'Now, leave us alone for a minute. Go and boil some water, I might need it.' In situations like this, telling people to boil water was the usual technique for getting rid of them.

  Maria pulled on rubber gloves. She looked down at Tracy's face, which suddenly contorted in a grimace of pain. Maria felt under the bedclothes, laid a hand on Tracy's abdomen. That was a contraction all right. 'Your baby's going to be born,' she told the girl. 'Now, let's have a look at you.'

  It only took half a minute to decide that this was not going to be a home birth. Tracy was in trouble. For a start, the lie wasn't right. And no way would she even try to bring a baby into the world in this mess.

  Maria stepped out of the bedroom, closed the door. She took out her mobile phone and called Molly. 'Tell Tom that Tracy's in labour,' she said. 'She could need a Caesarean. We need an ambulance and—'

  'Who d'you think you're calling?

  He came out of what must be the kitchen door, as unpleasant as ever. 'Mr Lovett,' she said, 'there's a bit of a problem. Tracy just has to get to hospital. I'm phoning my boss to get him to arrange an ambulance and—'

  'You're the midwife! You deal with it. Tracy isn't going into that place again.'

  'She has to! I think she's—'

  'I said you can deal with it. And you're not leaving here until you've finished.'

  Maria had not been expecting violence, but suddenly he reached for her phone, grabbed it and threw it on the floor. Then he stamped on it. He pushed her towards the bedroom. 'If there's any trouble then you can sort it out. And if you don't, you'll have me to answer to!'

  'Tracy could die!' Maria said. 'You don't understand, this is a real medical emergency and—'

  There was a banging at the door. Not a polite knock, but the enraged banging of someone who intended to come in. And a voice shouted, 'This is Dr Ramsey. Open this door or I'll kick it in.'

  Maria thought she'd never been more happy to hear his voice. She also thought she'd never heard him sound more angry.

  Mr Lovett was too stoned or too stupid to recognise the anger. He called, 'You can go back to where you came from and—'

  With a splintering crash, the door slammed open. In the doorway was Tom, white-faced with anger. He strode over to a quailing Mr Lovett and said, 'Stand by the wall and say nothing or I'll kick you right off the balcony. That isn't a threat, it's a promise.' He looked round, saw her, 'Maria, are you OK?'

  'I'm fine, but Tracy's in real trouble. She's been in labour too long. We need an ambulance now!'

  He walked into the room, took a quick glance at Tracy then took out his mobile phone and phoned 999. 'Ambulance, please. Can you get here quickly? Dr Ramsey calling, I've got an urgent case, birth imminent and the mother's in a very bad way. Thank you.'

  Then there was a speedy examination and then he looked at Maria, his face grey. 'Nothing we can do here but wait and pray,' he said. 'We need Theatre. I'm going to call the hospital, get Mike Donovan standing by. In a minute you can go down to the front and tell the paramedics where to come.'

  'OK.' This was an emergency, she should be thinking of her patient and nothing else. But... 'Tom, how come you got here so quickly? I'd only just phoned Molly and then you were kicking down the door.'

  'I was already here,' he said. 'Molly told me where you were the minute you told her, and I came straight away. It was a stupid thing to do, Maria! I was worried about you!'

  Just for once his voice was angry and she recognised he had every right to be angry. She didn't even mind being called stupid. 'Sony,' she said contritely, 'I'll go and look out for the ambulance.'

  A tiny part of her was pleased that Tom had worried so much.

  Tom travelled with Tracy in the ambulance. Maria said she'd follow in his car, ring the clinic and make arrangements to have her own car picked up. She'd also ring Tom's mother, ask her to come to collect James. It might be quite a long wait. She was going to stay at the hospital. Tracy was her patient. If there was to be an operation then she wanted to be there to help, if possible.

  Tracy was being prepped when she arrived. Tom and the team was scrubbing up. Maria asked if she could scrub up, too. When the baby was born she could be part of the team on take, could help resuscitate the baby if necessary, take it down to SCBU— the specialist care baby unit.

  There was a full team working on Tracy's Caesarean with two surgeons, both Mike Donovan and Tom being there. And at first things seemed to be going fine. Tracy was stabilised, the baby was delivered, handed over to Maria's team, waiting patiently in the adjoining little theatre.

  There was the usual Apgar test. The team had to look at colour, heart rate, muscle tone, breathing and stimulus response. Not too bad, a score of six out of ten. After an eventful birth, Tracy's new little boy seemed to be doing quite well. He was aspirated and ventilated, oxygen pumped into him to aid his breathing. Then he was settled into the portable incubator and Maria prepared to go with him down to SCBU. Just as they opened the door she heard a shout from behind. 'BP's rocketing!'

  Maria hesitated. But the baby was her charge now, not Tracy. So, anxiously, she went down to SCBU.

  Her help had been appreciated, but she wasn't part of the SCBU team, so there was now little for her to do. And she wanted to know how Tracy was. So she went back to Theatre. The operation was now over and Tracy had been transferred to ICU—the intensive care unit.

  'What...what appears to be the trouble?' Maria asked the scrub nurse, who was now getting changed.

  The scrub nurse shook her head wearily. 'I've never seen one before,' she said. 'It was frightening. Her BP rocketed, she started to drift away. It was Tom Ramsey who recognised what was happening. She had an amniotic embolism.'

  'An embolism! Where's Tom now?'

  'He's down in ICU with the girl. There's nothing more he or anyone else can do. Now it's just hope and chance. If she survives for the next three or four hours then she should pull through.'

  An embolism! It just wasn't right. That it was the same condition that Tom's wife had died of. They were so rare, perhaps five a year in this country, and Tom had had to deal with two. Maria shuddered. She could only guess what he was going through.

  She went down to the ICU, explained her interest in the case and was allowed in. Tracy was lying there, the bank of monitors by her bed measuring her progress. And sitting by the bed was Tom, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed.

  Maria went over to him. She couldn't help herself. First of all she glanced at the monitors, checked on Tracy's condition. Tracy seemed to be holding her own, which was good. But with an embolism things could change in a minute.

  Maria rested her arm on Tom's shoulder. He looked up in surprise, he hadn't heard her come in.

  'There's not a lot you can do here,' she said. 'You know it's just waiting and hoping.'

  'Then I'm going to wait and hope. Maria, there's James. I—'

  'I've already phoned your mother, made arrangements for her to look after James. She'll stay the night with him.'

  'You think of everything. What would I do without you?'

  What could you do with me? she thought. But she said nothing.

  Silently, they waited. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, Tracy's vital signs improved. With an embolism it was pure chance. But after three hours Tracy could be said to be off the danger list.

  It was the ICU staff nurse who eventually told Tom that he was wasting his time, that he was in the way of the staff and that with any luck Tracy should be fine. He could go home. If he wished, he could leave his mobile phon
e number and if there was any radical change in Tracy's condition she would phone him. So Tom came stumbling out of the room and stared, with unfocussed eyes, at Maria.

  She took his arm. 'You can't go home looking like that,' she said. 'You'll worry your mother. Come to my room and I'll give you coffee and chocolate biscuits. If you want, you can have a shower.'

  'All right,' he said.

  So she took him to her room, sat him on her bed then went along to the kitchen to make coffee. The cold air as they walked across the grounds had revived him. And while she had been out of the room he had washed his face and hands and now looked more alert.

  'Sorry to put you to all this trouble,' he said. 'Seeing another embolism, it took me back to Jane's death. I found that a bit...distressing.'

  'Distressing? Is that all you can say?'

  'These things happen,' he said.

  Maria forced herself to keep her voice quiet. 'You've left yourself with no one to turn to, haven't you?' she said sadly. 'You're entirely alone. You even keep your mother at a distance, you won't talk to her about your feelings. You've cut yourself off—everyone knows you are the hard one, the one who copes.'

  'That's the way I am. That's the way I deal with things.'

  She sighed. 'Not always successful, is it? Look, kick your shoes off, lie down on the bed.' He looked startled at that, but did as she asked.

  'You don't have to go home for a couple of hours,' she told him. 'What you need now is some live human contact.'

  She lay by his side on the narrow bed, put an arm round his head so it rested on her shoulder. 'This isn't sex,' she told him. 'This is just warmth and comfort and... togetherness.'

  She put her arms around him, gently held him. And slowly she felt the anger and the horror leave him, felt his stiff body relax. Neither said a word.

  She wondered, as they lay there, just how honest she had been with him. Certainly she wanted to comfort him, as she would want to comfort any of her friends who were in this state. But there was more. She was trying to show him hov rewarding having someone close could be. She wanted to show him just how wonderful it would be to share his bed with her.

  She knew it was not an uncommon thing after moments of high emotion—for a while he slept. She lay by his side, for the moment perfectly content just to be with him. But then he woke, looked at his watch. 'I'd better go,' he said, 'Maria, I've taken up far too much of your time. And you've been so good to me.'

  'You'd do the same for me,' she said, 'or for any friend. Wouldn't you?'

  'Perhaps,' he said.

  He reached down, slipped on his shoes. 'And where does this leave us?' he asked. I've slept with you again—but in a totally different way.'

  'It leaves us as we were,' she told him steadily. 'Good friends.' Then, almost in desperation, she thought she was entitled to give him just the smallest of hints. 'If you ever want to change things, it's up to you.'

  He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. 'I don't deserve you, Maria,' he said.

  You haven't got me, she thought. But I'd be yours if you wanted me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Next morning there was another drop-in patient—Jan Casey. She was dressed all in black with dyed black hair, white make-up and a vast amount of mascara. Maria thought that she was barely sixteen.

  'I'm a friend of Tracy McGee,' the teenager said. 'I went to see her in hospital last night. You know she's got a little boy and she's getting better?'

  'I know. I've been to see her. I'm glad she's doing well.'

  'Social Services have been to see her, too. They're going to get her a place away from that louse Lovett. She says she's got responsibilities now, she's going to clean her life up.'

  'I think she'll manage it,' Maria said. 'Underneath, she's quite tough. Now, how can I help you Jan?'

  'Yes, well...' The girl looked embarrassed. 'Tracy was telling me what you'd done for her, and how if I came here you'd look after me. I daren't tell me mam, and I won't go to that snotty doctor we've got.'

  Maria sighed. 'How old are you?'

  It took a while for the girl to reply. 'I'm nearly sixteen,' she said eventually.

  'Nearly's not good enough. The law says that you are still a minor, that I ought to have your mother here with you.'

  Maria saw the panic in the girl's eyes. 'I can't tell her. You won't, will you? Please, say you won't!'

  'So far there's nothing to tell,' Maria said. 'Let me guess. You're pregnant?'

  'Well, I might be. I could be, I suppose, I just don't know yet. I've felt a bit off recently, but that might be the drink I had. Isn't there a pill you can take, a morning-after pill?

  'There is, but it's not always a good idea to take it. When did you last have sex?'

  Maria thought that under the white pancake makeup Jan was blushing. She said, 'Well, actually, I've only done it once. Done it properly, that is. It was just a bit of fun. We met at a mate's house and had a few drinks and then...' Her voice trailed away.

  'I know,' said Maria. 'Did you use any protection?'

  'No. We got carried away. But we tried to be careful. A bit.'

  Maria decided not to ask what being 'a bit careful' meant. She said, 'I asked you how long ago it was.'

  Jan calculated. 'About ten days ago.'

  'Well, there is a morning-after pill, but it's only effective up to about seventy-two hours afterwards, so it wouldn't help now. If you're not pregnant, we can look at different types of contraception.'

  She took a sample jar from a drawer, gave it to Jan. 'Go next door and bring back a urine sample. If you can, take it in mid-flow. Then bring it back here.'

  'Right,' said Jan. 'Does this mean that everything will be all right?'

  'One step at a time,' Maria said.

  The dipped-in stick didn't change colour, Jan wasn't pregnant. Maria hid a smile as Jan sighed with relief. Then the two looked at each other.

  'I can't look after you, as Tracy suggested,' Maria said. 'You can only look after yourself. If you go around having unprotected sex then sooner or later you'll get pregnant.'

  Maria studied the girl in front of her, wondered about what she was going to say, whether she felt happy with it or not. She could just send Jan away, her job had been done. But what about Jan's future? Was it her responsibility?

  She made up her mind. 'You're fifteen,' she said. 'You're a minor. There's nothing I can do for you now. Only when you're sixteen does the law think that you're old enough to make up your own mind about whether you want to have sex or not. But that, of course, is up to you.'

  'I'm thinking about it,' Jan said.

  Maria knew there was no point in moralising, it would do little good. But she went on, 'And if you don't use protection, there's a chance you might get a disease.'

  'Like Aids?' asked Jan.

  'It's not impossible,' Maria said. 'But there are other diseases that are more common and almost as unpleasant. There's urethritis; chlamydia, gonorrhoea. They're all hard to get rid of.' She looked doubtfully at Jan.

  Maria sighed, then phoned Molly and said she would be busy for the next half-hour.

  'I'm going to talk to you about contraception, safe sex and sexually transmitted diseases,' she said to Jan. 'I've got leaflets here, too. Take them away and read them. But always remember, when it comes to sex, you're the one making the decisions. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just telling you how to avoid trouble.'

  Half an hour later Jan left. Maria sat and wondered. At least Jan was now better informed.

  'I think that finishes the official business,' Tom said, shuffling a pile of papers straight on his desk. 'Have you time for a coffee before you get back to work?'

  About once a week Tom and Maria had a meeting to discuss outstanding cases, consider requisitions for the next few months, decide on policies for the future. It was one of the things that made him a good boss. He consulted. Maria, and all the other people who worked for him, felt that they were partners, they were helping in the decision-makin
g.

  'I'll skip the coffee,' she said. 'I am busy. But is there anything else you want to bring up?' Then she remembered his words. They'd finished the official business. Were they going to talk about something personal?

  It was now five days since he had watched over Tracy and then come to rest on her bed. Tracy was now recovering and her baby was doing well. Maria had been to see her and had been heartened by the visit. Tracy seemed filled with determination that she was going to start a new life. Maria was pleased that people who had started by making a mess of their lives could in time recover.

  Tom had not mentioned his stay in her room. Rather bitterly, Maria decided that he wanted to forget his... weakness?

  And now he looked decidedly uneasy.

  'You know my mother's in Australia and I've got Jeanette, this rather good ex-nurse, looking after James when I can't?'

  Maria nodded. 'Of course I know. James had a card from your mother, he brought it to show me.'

  'Well, I've got an important meeting on Friday that may last well into the evening and it's a night that Jeanette can't come. Some family business. So I wondered—and it was James who suggested it—if you would come and be babysitter for a night. I might be very late, you'd have to sleep over.'

  Maria looked at the blond hair that had brushed her face as they'd made love. She looked at the impenetrable face, its expression guarded as ever. Why did she bother with this man?

  Because she loved him. And she'd do whatever he asked, no matter what it cost her.

  'I'll come and babysit,' she said. 'I've quite missed James. What time do you want me?'

  It was odd, going back to his house. His meeting lasted well into the evening, so she took James home and gave him his tea. After watching a video, she took him upstairs for his bath. She was playing at being a mother, at being the lady of the house whose husband was away for a while. And though it was painful, she enjoyed it.

  It was fun, kneeling by the bath, clad in one of the long pinafores that Tom's mother had left her. The bath was filled with bubbles, she wound up his clockwork submarine and James squealed with delight as it made its slow progress through the foam.