St. Piran's: The Wedding of The Year

by Caroline Anderson

  More to the point, wondering what Jeremiah would make of the news. He suspected not a lot. All in all, it was probably shaping up to be another thoroughly bloody day...

  * * *

  She sent Nick to lie down when he got back with the hot drinks and pastries, and he nodded and went without a word. He looked exhausted, she thought. Drained and stressed and emotionally threadbare.

  She’d never seen him like this, even when he’d lost Annabel. He desperately needed a shave, and for a man who usually dressed so fastidiously, he was falling apart. His shirt was creased and open at the neck, the tie long gone, and his usually immaculate suit was crumpled and weary.

  And despite it all, he was still the best-looking man she’d ever seen, the only man she’d ever

  really wanted. Apart from necessity he hadn’t left her side since he’d arrived in Resus, and she didn’t know how she would have got through it without him.

  Although, of course, even though the biggest hurdle had been overcome in that Jeremiah was still alive, there was still the next obstacle to deal with, the one they’d been avoiding now for years, and she had no idea how Nick would be when the time came. One thing she knew for sure, he couldn’t bottle out now, and maybe it wasn’t the right time to go away. Her letter to the PCT was still in her bag, waiting for her to post it after she’d picked Jem up, only of course that had never happened, and now...

  Oh, what on earth should she do? It had been complicated enough before this, but now...

  She sipped her tea, hands cradling the paper cup, fingers tracing the ribbed cardboard holder round it, chafing it rhythmically as she sat with glazed eyes fixed on her sleeping son, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the occasional flutter of his eyelids, the trace of his heartbeat on the monitor, and prayed that when the time came, he could forgive them both for what they’d done to him.

  They woke Jem at six, when they came to check his obs, and he smiled at her a little wanly. She’d never been so pleased to see his smile in her life.

  ‘Mum,’ he croaked, and she felt her eyes well with tears.

  ‘Hello, darling. Good morning.’ She leant forwards and took his free hand, the one that wasn’t wired up to the drip, and kissed his bruised cheek gently. She’d studied his notes, and he’d had several units of blood overnight. She wondered if any of them had been Nick’s, if his father’s blood was now circulating in his veins. Or Jack’s.

  Like blood brothers cutting themselves and swapping blood, but on a grander scale and one-way. Would it bring them all closer? She hoped so. Apart from her mother in Bristol, and James’s brother, the man Jem called Uncle John, there was no other family. It would be nice for him to have the family he should have had all along, but she wasn’t going to make assumptions. Maybe they wouldn’t want that level of involvement. She couldn’t blame them. And there was still that hurdle to overcome, of course.

  She stroked her thumb lightly over the back of his hand, and his fingers tightened a little. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Six in the morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ He thought about that for a moment, then gave a tiny sigh. ‘Can I have a drink? My throat’s sore and my mouth’s really dry.’

  She glanced up. He was still nil by mouth, but she could give him a mouthwash. She spoke to the nurse, and a minute later she was swabbing his lips with the cool liquid, wiping away the dried secretions so he’d be more comfortable. ‘Better?’ she asked, and he smiled and nodded.

  ‘Mmm. I’m sore all over, Mum.’

  Her heart contracted. ‘I bet you are, my love. You’ve been through the wringer. Do you remember what happened yesterday?’ she asked him softly.

  He shook his head. ‘No. The last thing I remember was making you a pot.’ He frowned. ‘Did I tell you I’d made you a pot?’

  She nodded, thinking it might have been the last thing he’d done, the last thing he’d said to her, and she struggled not to cry. ‘Yes, you did. A yellow one. I’m looking forward to seeing it. Do you remember me picking you up? Or the helicopter?’

  He shook his head. ‘Helicopter? No. I don’t remember anything after making the pot. Did I go in a helicopter?’

  ‘Yes. The air ambulance brought you here.’

  ‘And I don’t remember,’ he mumbled, looking disgusted. ‘I’ve always wanted to go in a helicopter. So what happened to me? Why am I so sore? Did we have a car accident?’

  ‘Yes. I pulled out, and—’

  She broke off, just as Nick appeared on the other side of the bed. ‘Someone was going too fast,’ he said firmly, ‘and ran into the side of the car. It was his fault.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, but she could see he was flagging. ‘I can’t believe I don’t remember the helicopter,’ he mumbled drowsily, and then looked at Nick and his brows clumped together in a little frown. ‘Uncle Nick, why haven’t you shaved today?’

  She heard the quiet rasp as he scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Emotions chased across his face, and he pressed his lips together briefly. ‘I haven’t had a chance, I’ve been here all night,’ he said. ‘We both have.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  Because you were sick. Because we thought you were going to die—

  Kate met his eyes, and Nick reached out and brushed his knuckles over his son’s thin, pale cheek and tried to smile. ‘We were worried about you. You’ve been pretty sick. You had to have an operation.’

  ‘Why did I need an operation? I don’t really understand. I’m just really sore all over and I can’t move, it hurts too much.’

  Her fingers tightened involuntarily. ‘I know. The surgeon will come and see you later—he’ll explain. You had some broken bones, and they had to fix the ends together, to keep them still so they can heal and stop them hurting.’

  He frowned. ‘I can remember it hurting,’ he said slowly. ‘Much worse than this. And Ben—was Ben there?’

  ‘Ben was there,’ Nick confirmed. ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s all over now and you’re on the mend. You just need to rest and get well again, and then you’ll be able to go home.’

  ‘When?’

  Kate swallowed. ‘Not for a little while.’

  His face fell. ‘I’m going to miss the rest of holiday club, aren’t I?’ he said, looking worried, and she nodded.

  ‘I’m afraid so. You could be in here for a few weeks.’

  ‘Oh. Can Matt get my pot for you? Will you ask him?’

  ‘You can ask him yourself. I’m sure he’ll come and visit you soon.’

  She saw Nick stiffen, but she couldn’t pander to his feelings. Rob and his son Matt were an important part of Jem’s life, and although she wasn’t going to marry Rob, she wasn’t going to avoid him, either, or his son. For Jem’s sake, he needed to keep some continuity in his life.

  Nick would just have to get over it.

  * * *

  Martin Bradley came to see Jem just before eight, and decided he could be moved into a side room on the paediatric ward just down the corridor as soon as it was cleared.

  ‘You’re doing really well, we’re very pleased, so you can have a nice room to yourself for a few days so you can rest quietly until you’re feeling a bit brighter, then we’ll move you down into the other ward with kids of your own age, to give you some company. I’m going to increase your pain relief, because you’re obviously quite sore, and once you’re a bit more comfortable you’ll feel a lot better.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jem murmured, and his eyes flicked past Kate to the door, and he grinned weakly. ‘Hey, Ben,’ he said, and Ben came into the room and perched on the end of the bed.

  ‘Hi, tiger. So, how is he, Martin? Will he live?’

  ‘Oh, I reckon. Nice work, that pelvic fixator, made my job a lot easier. Did you do it?’

  ‘No, that was Josh O’Hara. He’s going to be a real asset. I had a look at the X-rays—it’s looking good.’

  ‘Mmm. It went back nicely. I’m pleased. Well, I’ll leave you all to it. I’ll catch up with you later, Jem.’r />
  ‘So, how’s it feeling, young’un?’ Ben asked, and the boy shrugged.

  ‘Sore.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll bet. Still, you’ll soon be up and about. Look on the bright side, you won’t have to go to school for a few weeks.’

  Kate frowned. Of course he wouldn’t. And that meant she wouldn’t be able to go to work, because there was no way she was leaving him with anyone else until he was better.

  ‘Kate, don’t worry, they’ll get cover,’ Nick said softly, reading her mind. ‘I’m going to have to go in and sort it all out shortly, but you’re not to worry, it’ll be fine.’

  She nodded. Of course it would be, but there were so many patients she wanted to be there for—Gemma was a few days overdue now and she didn’t want to hand her over at this stage; she was one of their own, a practice nurse who was married to one of their GPs, Sam Cavendish, and Kate hated the fact that she’d have to bail on them at this stage. And there was a woman she’d seen—heavens, only yesterday—who she’d been a bit worried about. She couldn’t even remember her name, but Chloe would sort it for her. As the only other midwife based in the practice, she’d have to.

  ‘Nick, I need to speak to Chloe. There’s a patient—’

  ‘I’ll get her to come and see you. She’ll want to, anyway. They all will.’

  Of course they would. They were a fabulous bunch of people, and she didn’t know how she would have got through the last year without their support. She nodded, and turned back to Ben, who was making Jem laugh weakly with a dreadful joke. She smiled at him, and he winked and stood up.

  ‘I need to get back to work, but I just thought I’d come and touch base. And Lucy’ll be in later. She’s going to leave the kids with me at lunchtime and slip up for a minute. You might want to shave by then.’

  His teasing eyes met Nick’s, and Kate thought she could read reassurance and support in them. Had Lucy come round? Maybe Ben had been able to listen to her and let her talk it all through last night, and maybe she’d softened her stance a little. Goodness, she hoped so. She didn’t care if Lucy never forgave her for her part in it, but that she shouldn’t forgive Nick—that was unthinkable.

  She was his little girl, the apple of his eye, and he adored her. He’d be gutted if there was a permanent rift between them.

  And then, when Ben had hardly left the room, Jack came in and grinned at Jem and perched on the end of the bed where Ben had sat.

  ‘Hi there, kiddo. How’re you doing?’

  ‘OK. Bit sore.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’ Jack glanced up at his father, and winced at the state of him. ‘Dad, you look like a tramp. I think you need a shower and a shave. I’ve got a clean shirt here—do you want it?’

  ‘No, it’s OK, I’m going to go shortly and sort some stuff out at the surgery, so I’ll have a shower then. Thanks, anyway.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, I just didn’t want you scaring the children,’ he said, but this time his voice was kinder, less condemnatory than the last time he’d told his father not to thank him, over the blood donating issue, and Nick gave a wry smile.

  After a few moments of banter, Jack, too, left them alone, and it wasn’t long before the nurses came to move Jem through to the paediatric ward.

  ‘All ready to go?’ the staff nurse asked cheerfully, and he nodded as they kicked the brakes off the bed and wheeled it through the door, down a corridor and then into a bright, sunny room off the children’s ward that looked out over the gardens below.

  ‘There are ducks down there,’ Kate told him, peering out of the window and trying to find something normal to talk about as they sorted out his oxygen and monitoring equipment and pushed his locker back into place. ‘A mother duck and some ducklings. You’ll be able to see them when you can move around a bit more.’

  ‘How many ducklings?’ he asked, but she couldn’t really tell.

  ‘At least five. Not sure. We’ll count them together later. They can’t go anywhere, they’re in a courtyard.’

  ‘What, trapped?’

  ‘Until they can fly. I expect someone’s looking after them, but they’ll be safe from any cats and foxes, at least.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  His eyelids were wilting, and it was obvious he was still very far from well. The move from PICU to the little side room had been more than enough for him, and Nick glanced at his watch. Ten-fifteen, give or take.

  ‘I need to go to the surgery, sort a few things out, and if you’re staying, you could do with some clothes and wash things, and some stuff for Jeremiah. Give me your keys, I’ll sort it.’

  She stared at him blankly. ‘I haven’t got my keys,’ she said slowly. ‘They must be in the car still.’

  ‘Has anyone else got a key?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. Chloe. Take her with you, she’ll know what to get. And tell her I’m sorry about Bruno. If she can’t manage, then I’ll have to—’

  ‘I’m sure they can manage the dog between them,’ he said reassuringly. ‘They said you weren’t to worry. I’ll be as quick as possible, ring me if you need to or if you think of anything specific you need.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He found his car in the staff car park, and drove straight to the surgery, even though he was desperate for a shower and a change of clothes. There was a tie in his jacket pocket, and for a moment he contemplated it, but he was in a hurry now. He probably should have gone home, but for some reason he just needed to be here, amongst his friends, and it was nearly eleven, so with any luck the patients would have gone by now so they didn’t have to see him looking like this. He walked in, straight up the stairs past a couple of waiting patients and the startled receptionist, ignoring their concerned questions, and into the staffroom.

  It was crowded, and they all turned and stared at him, Sam Cavendish getting to his feet and breaking the silence first.

  ‘Nick! How is he?’

  ‘He’s...’ He couldn’t finish, couldn’t find the words, and Chloe gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘No! He can’t be—’

  He shook his head. ‘No. He’s all right,’ he said hastily, and there was a collective sigh of relief. ‘He’s stable now and out of Intensive Care. It’s been...um...’

  He didn’t know what to say, but they were clustered around him, gathered there as if they’d been waiting, and he lifted his head and met their eyes, seeing the love and concern and support there for him, for Kate, and for Jeremiah. And there was only one thing that mattered, one thing he needed to tell them, these people who were his friends, first and foremost, although they might well not be when they knew.

  ‘It’s been a bit of a worry, but it looks like he’s going to be all right,’ he said, and then he added, ‘Actually, we’re both going to need some help in the next few weeks with cover. There’s something you should know, something I’d rather didn’t leave this room. Jeremiah’s my son.’

  * * *

  If he’d expected a shocked reaction, he didn’t get one.

  There was no condemnation, no gasps of horror, just acceptance and support.

  It turned out that most of them had worked it out—some, like old Doris Trefussis, cleaner, tea-lady and general all-round good egg, years ago. Sam Cavendish knew, certainly, and when everyone had dispersed and left them alone, Sam put a mug of coffee in his hand and sat down at right angles to him, his bad leg stretched out and propped on the other ankle, a mug cradled in his hands and his eyes thoughtful.

  ‘You can do it, you know,’ he said, surprising Nick.

  He frowned. ‘Do what?’

  ‘Be a good father to him. You were more of a father to me in my teens than my own father had ever been, and I know you’ve been good to my brother in the ten years I was away. And you love the boy. That means more than anything else.’

  Nick gave a soft huff of laughter, and smiled tiredly at Sam. He’d been fond of him since he’d been a boy, and he’d been more than happy to take him on at the surgery when he’d come home wounded after a run-in with
insurgents in Africa. And he was glad he had, because Sam had ended up back with Gemma, one of their nurses and his childhood sweetheart, and their baby was due any day. ‘When did you get to be so wise, Sam?’ he asked softly, but Sam just smiled back and ignored his remark.

  ‘We need to sort the rota out, because Gemma can’t go on much longer. She’s been having contractions off and on for days and every morning I wake up and think, How can she still be pregnant? So it won’t be long, and we’ll need another locum if you aren’t going to be here.’

  ‘Why not? I can still work most of the time.’

  ‘No—because you’ll be at your son’s bedside,’ he offered gently. ‘Does he even know yet?’

  Nick felt emotion well in his chest and cleared his throat. ‘No. We’re going to tell him when he’s a bit stronger. To be honest, I’m dreading it and I’m happy to put it off as long as possible.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long,’ Sam advised, as if he hadn’t already done that very thing, then he tilted his head on one side and raised a brow. ‘You look like hell, by the way,’ he said conversationally, and Nick growled softly under his breath.

  ‘If one more person tells me that today I’m going to—’

  ‘What? Go home and shower? Good idea, Nick. You could do with a seriously close shave, a shirt that’s seen an iron in living memory and trousers that haven’t got more wrinkles than an elephant’s hide.’

  He looked down at himself and remembered what he’d looked like less than twenty-four hours ago. How could that be? It seemed a lifetime ago. Nearly had been...

  ‘We’ll sort out the rota,’ Sam was saying. ‘I’m booking myself off now for a fortnight, because Gemma was looking iffy this morning, and I’ll make sure they book you off, too, and we’d better have open-ended cover for Kate. I think Chloe might already have organised that, but I’ll check. Kate’s dog is being looked after, so all you need to worry about is your family. Go on, go and sort yourself out and get back to them. Have you had any sleep at all?’