One Step At A Time

by Caroline Anderson

  And so it was Kate who helped Dominic with implanting the dorsal column stimulator in Brian Pooley on Thursday. It was done under local anaesthetic, and Barbara Jay, the senior nursing sister, was also assisting.

  She sensed that Dominic didn’t need her there, especially as it was being done under local anaesthetic, but she was there anyway, just as a standby, in case he suddenly felt ill.

  He explained it to her. ‘The gadget that provides the electrical current is a small, flat device about the size of a thin matchbox, and what we have to do is remove the external temporary leads, which are still attached to the permanent electrode in his spine, and replace them with permanent leads that run under the skin—from the centre of his back and round, over the crest of his hip and into the hollow of his hipbone on the front of his abdomen.’

  ‘How do you put the leads under the skin?’ Kate asked. ‘Like a pacemaker?’

  He nodded. ‘Exactly. With a flexible cannula, just to push a little path through. It’s quite easy. Then we make a small pocket in the skin and the gadget is slipped into it and connected to the leads.’

  Simple, effective and usually accomplished in about an hour at the most, Dominic assured her that it would be very straight forward.

  To her relief it was. Brian Pooley was calm and cheerful, Dominic—although he shifted uncomfortably once or twice—managed to complete the procedure without a hitch, and with Barbara Jay’s help Kate finished off, suturing the small incisions. Then they transferred Brian Pooley back to his room—one of the more intensive nursing rooms on the ground floor near the clinic.

  Kate, frankly, was glad that it was over. It wasn’t a familiar procedure to her—certainly not one ever performed in general practice—and she had found watching Dominic struggle against his pain too difficult to cope with.

  By Friday he was looking ill, and Kate was never so pleased in her life as when Jeremy came back midmorning, strutting like a cock and grinning from ear to ear.

  His wife had given birth to a son at three that morning, and he was over the moon. He had caught a few hours of sleep and come in to help for a while.

  ‘Stop Dominic doing so much,’ Kate pleaded with him, and he went and found Dominic and told him that he wanted to check him out.

  An hour later he was in bed, on antibiotics and sleeping soundly.

  ‘He’s got an infection in the wound. It’s only slight, just a faint reddening, but the last thing he needs is that tracking down into the femur and giving him osteomyelitis. So he’s on penicillin and I’ve told him to stay in bed for three days and drink plenty. He’s allowed out under supervision to have physio and a push round the grounds, but he’s to rest. I’ve told him if he doesn’t he’ll be back in hospital.’

  ‘He wouldn’t go.’

  Jeremy laughed. ‘He might not have a choice if he neglects that infection. He might be stubborn, Kate, but he’s not a fool. He’ll co-operate.’

  Not willingly, though, as she found out. When she went back in with Stephie, after picking her up off the school bus, he was awake again and grumpy.

  ‘I need to get on,’ he said shortly. ‘I can’t lie here.’

  ‘You have to.’

  ‘I know that,’ he snapped.

  She perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Why don’t you read for a while?’

  ‘I can’t. My glasses are on my desk.’

  ‘I’ll fetch them,’ Stephie offered.

  ‘I don’t want to read,’ he groused. ‘Anyway, my glasses hurt my nose.’

  Kate sighed. ‘How about going out for a push round the park?’

  ‘With who?’

  ‘Samson could push you.’

  ‘He’s busy.’

  ‘I could push you,’ Stephie suggested. ‘If we didn’t go down the hill it would be all right.’

  ‘I’m heavy.’

  She grinned. ‘You aren’t that heavy. Go on, that would be really cool—pushing you in the chair. We could see how fast I could go.’

  Dominic laughed reluctantly. ‘I don’t think so, sunshine. I’m not up to being whizzed round the grounds and catapulted out of the chair when you hit a stone.’

  Stephie giggled. ‘Spoilsport. We could go for a little stroll, though. It’s a gorgeous day, and that way I’d get to see you. I’ve hardly seen you since the accident.’

  Kate could see him weakening. ‘Stephie, go and get a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge and find some biscuits; you can stop under a tree and have a little snack and a rest. I’ll get your father up.’

  ‘I’ll change.’ She ran upstairs, and they could hear her slamming drawers and singing up above.

  ‘She sounds happy.’

  ‘She is—she’s on holiday from today till September. What do you want to wear?’

  ‘Shorts—they’re on the chair. I could do with a clean T-shirt, as well. This one’s a bit tired.’

  She found the clothes, threw the quilt off him and helped him into the shorts. As she was easing them up his legs she had a thought. ‘Let me see this infection.’

  He turned slightly and pulled up the edge of his briefs; she could see that just over the projection at the top of his thigh bone there was a hot, red area. It was in the almost healed suture line, where they had opened his skin to insert the intramedullary nail that held his broken femur steady, and, as Jeremy had said, the last thing he needed was an infection there.

  ‘I could do with a tea-tree oil compress to put over it, to combat the infection locally,’ he said. ‘I wonder if Lindsay’s still around.’

  ‘I saw her going in the fitness club a little while ago to do a pre-exercise massage. She might still be there—shall I ask her for you?’

  ‘Could you? We’ll go for a stroll and then pick it up on the way back.’ He wriggled into the shorts, swearing under his breath as his thigh rebelled, and then sat up and pulled the T-shirt over his head. She passed him a clean one and he tugged it on, then swung himself across to the wheelchair.

  ‘You’re getting good at that,’ she told him.

  ‘Practice—too much of it.’ He turned his head to the door and yelled. ‘Stephie?’

  ‘Coming!’

  There was a thundering on the stairs and she bounced into the room, dressed in tiny shorts and a cropped T-shirt. She looked beautiful—young and vibrant and very, very lovely—and Kate saw Dominic’s eyes go suspiciously bright.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘I haven’t got the drinks.’

  She bounced out again.

  ‘All that energy—she’s like a puppy,’ Kate said with an indulgent smile.

  ‘She’s beautiful. I’ll kill anyone who lays a hand on her,’ he said with deathly quiet.

  Kate laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘She’s sensible.’ ‘She’s too darned lovely for her own good—just like you were. All she needs is a bastard like me.’

  She crouched in front of him. ‘Dominic, you weren’t a bastard.’

  ‘Wasn’t I? Your father thought so.’

  ‘My father was wrong.’

  ‘I don’t think he was.’ He met her eyes, his own filled with contempt for himself. ‘I treated you appallingly. I deliberately and cold-bloodedly seduced you, and in the process I got you pregnant.’

  She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t like that. Dominic, you loved me.’

  His eyes searched hers. ‘Did I? I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted you. Maybe the love came later. Maybe it never came at all—not enough to do the job. I let you down, Kate. I’m not surprised you threw me out.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she reminded him. ‘I just set you free.’

  ‘But I didn’t want to be free—not then, not now.’

  Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Oh, God,’ she moaned. ‘Dominic...’

  She stood up. Stephie was slamming cupboards in the kitchen. There was a squawk, and she yelled at the cat, then came into Dominic’s bedroom. ‘All set?’

  He nodded. He didn’t speak. Kate wondered if he could. Certainly
she would have had difficulty. There was a lump in her throat the size of a tennis ball, and all she could think was that he didn’t want to be free of her. ‘Not then, not now,’ he had said.

  Did she want him? She watched their daughter push him out through the French doors, down the little step into the garden and along the grassy path, So-and-So trailing in their wake.

  They were all she had in the world, she realised. All that mattered. She felt like a real wife and mother for the first time in twelve years, but it was just a sham, she knew. It was all very well pretending to herself, but when the crunch came—if it did—could she live with him?

  During the past few days she had learned a great deal about him—he was generous to a fault, dedicated, highly skilled, disciplined and very highly organised. He was also a total pain to live with, opinionated, interfering and a demanding boss.

  That was the secret of the clinic’s success, of course. He was very much at the helm, his finger firmly on the pulse, and not a mouse ran through the walls that he didn’t know about.

  He was also going to kill himself if he didn’t slow down.

  He would be all right for the next few days, until the infection had cleared up, but then he would be up and at it again at the same pace, from Monday on, making no allowances for his leg, the fact that he had recently had concussion, or that his blood count was probably low following the losses at the fracture site—he’d just be back in the saddle and doing what he had always done.

  She already knew that he normally worked from six in the morning until after nine at night. Could she live with that? It was hardly a recipe for marital success, unless they worked together—and would he let her? Was there a place for her in the clinic, and, if there was, would she want to be beside him all day, without any authority of her own?

  As a locum GP she was used to having some autonomy, but if she didn’t work beside him she would simply never see him. Could their marriage survive that challenge again? It was what had destroyed it the last time.

  She would be a fool to try again unless the rules changed, but she knew with Dominic that the rules wouldn’t change—because he made them and he never, ever changed his mind.

  She sighed and closed the French doors, then went back over to the clinic. He might be off sick but she wasn’t, and, as he’d rightly said, there was always someone needing them.

  Their relationship would have to wait—again.

  She went to the fitness club, found Lindsay and asked her for an essential oil compress for Dominic’s wound, then went through to his consulting room. There was some paperwork she wanted to go through, and she felt the need to shut herself away quietly with it and concentrate without distractions.

  She was thwarted. The first thing that caught her eye was their wedding photo, at the bottom of the group in the frame on his desk.

  She picked it up and studied it. They had looked so good together that day. She had that wonderful glow of pregnancy, like the bloom on a rose, and her eyes were almost luminous. Dominic looked proud and happy and very much in love with her.

  The lump appeared in her throat again. Of course he had loved her. He’d made their courtship sound so calculated, when it hadn’t been like that at all. She had wanted him just as much, but hadn’t known how to say so. And he had been so tender with her, so careful, so very loving.

  He blamed himself for Stephie’s conception, but was that really such a crime? She had brought them both such happiness. How could that be wrong?

  Oh, Lord, if she could only be sure they could work it out this time.

  She put the picture down and got up from the desk, unable to concentrate on the notes. She would see if she could find Dominic and Stephie—just to make sure Stephie could cope with the wheelchair.

  But then again, perhaps they ought to have time together.

  Disconsolate, restless, she went back to the cottage and collected her swimsuit, then went over to the fitness club. Jason was there, working with John Whitelaw. She went over to them.

  ‘Hi. How’s it going?’

  John snorted. ‘This man is a slave-driver. I thought Angela was bad, but compared to this stuff, physio’s a doddle.’

  Jason grinned and slouched against the wall, bronzed arms folded across a well-made chest, blue eyes laughing. He reminded her a little of Dominic at that age, and she found herself smiling at him.

  ‘Are you torturing my patient, Jason?’ she teased.

  ‘Oh, ever so. He’s a real wet—no fun at all.’

  John called him something unprintable and Kate laughed. ‘Oh, dear, is it really that bad?’

  ‘Worse,’ he grumbled. ‘Am I finished now?’ Jason nodded and shrugged away from the wall. ‘Why don’t you warm down in the pool for a while? I’ll give you a hand.’

  ‘Thanks, but I won’t bother. I’m a bit tired tonight.’ John’s voice was gruff, and Kate sensed that he hated having to be dependent, even on a paid member of staff.

  ‘How’s your swimming coming on?’ she asked casually. ‘Ready for that race yet?’

  ‘When you are. Tomorrow?’

  She nodded. ‘Fine. I’ll fit in with you. Is your wife coming up to stay for the weekend with you?’

  John’s eyes flickered with pain. ‘I expect she’ll pop in.’

  ‘You know she’s welcome to stay.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I know. So, what time do you want to race? Five?’

  She searched his face, then nodded. Did the compassion she felt show on her face? She hoped not. He might read it as pity. It wasn’t far off. ‘Five will be fine.’

  ‘You’d better train a bit, Kate,’ Jason warned her. ‘He’s been practising hard.’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t doubt it. I expect he’ll thrash me.’

  ‘I shall have a damn good go,’ John promised.

  ‘I know. So will I. That’s what makes it worth doing.’ They shared a smile of understanding, then Jason wheeled him away and Kate went to change.

  She swam for half an hour, working off her frustration and straightening all the kinks out of her body, then changed and went back to the cottage. As she walked silently up the grass towards the house she could hear Stephie and Dominic talking. They were lying on a rug under a tree, and she was on her way over to join them when she heard Stephie’s words.

  ‘It would be really cool if you did get back together, you know,’ she was saying. ‘I’d get to see much more of you, and so would Mum. She’s very lonely.’

  ‘So am I, Stephie, but the fact that both of us are lonely doesn’t mean it would work. We didn’t have what it takes last time, and there’s no guarantee that we would now.’

  ‘But you won’t know if you don’t try,’ Stephie argued.

  He was silent for a moment. ‘Maybe your mother doesn’t want to try.’

  Stephie sat up straighter, her body at attention. ‘Do you?’

  He was silent even longer this time. He picked a blade of grass and ran it between his fingers, then dropped it. ‘I don’t know, darling. I really don’t know.’

  ‘But you love her.’

  He looked up at his daughter. ‘Do I?’

  Stephie nodded. ‘I think you do. I think she loves you too. I think you’re both just too stubborn to admit it.’

  Dominic laughed and lay back on the grass, one arm flung over his head. ‘Pop psychology, eh, Steph?’

  ‘You forget, I know you both.’

  ‘I think, my darling, you just want a happy ending.’ Stephie’s voice was indignant. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  Dominic sighed. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. It just isn’t realistic.’ As if he sensed Kate, then, he turned his head and met her eyes.

  She dredged up a smile and carried on walking towards them. ‘His. Had fun?’

  ‘He weighs a ton,’ Stephie complained. ‘I couldn’t push him, so we came back here. We wondered where you were.’

  ‘I went for a swim.’ She walked over to them and sat down on the other side of her daug
hter. ‘Have you had supper?’

  They shook their heads. ‘We were waiting for you,’ Stephie told her. ‘Are we going in the dining room?’

  Dominic pulled a face. ‘I’d be quite happy right here. My leg aches like crazy. Did you see Lindsay?’

  Kate nodded. ‘She’s sorted out a compress for tonight and left it in her room. I’ll go and get it.’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Stephie jumped up. ‘I’ll be back in a tick.’

  ‘Is Jason in the fitness club?’ Dominic asked Kate quietly as Stephie ran across the grass.

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  His eyes followed Stephie’s long flashing legs. ‘She fancies him.’

  ‘What? He’s years older than her!’

  ‘He’s nineteen. Not so many years. She’s fifteen next month.’

  Kate gaped at him, appalled. ‘You have to be joking. Jason?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Unfortunately I’m not. Whether Jason has even noticed she’s alive is another issue, but I reckon he’d have to be dead from the neck down not to.’

  Kate stared after her daughter. ‘Oh, my God. It’s starting.’

  Dominic gave a huff of laughter and rolled onto his front. ‘Like mother, like daughter. She’ll be a lamb to the slaughter.’

  ‘Will you stop that?’ she chastised. ‘I was not a lamb to the slaughter.’

  ‘No? Then how come I talked you into bed with me after only three weeks?’

  ‘Three weeks, may I remind you, when we lived and breathed and ate each other. We were hardly out of each other’s sight except to snatch a few hours of sleep.’

  ‘Or try,’ he said drily. ‘I nearly died of frustration that three weeks.’

  Her smile was slow and all woman. ‘Me too. I hardly knew what it was I wanted, but I couldn’t wait to find out.’

  He rolled onto his side and looked up at her with those brilliant blue eyes. ‘We could always do it again—get it out of our systems.’

  She drew her breath in sharply. ‘No, Nick. I said no and I meant it this time. Not until and unless we’re sure.’

  ‘Oh, well, it was worth a try.’ He rolled onto his front again. ‘I hope Stephie’s a good long while—these shorts don’t hide much.’