Going home sounded good. Getting away from the unit for even a little while seemed even better.
‘OK. All right,’ she said.
Connor made for the door, then stopped. ‘You will still be here when I get back, won’t you? ‘
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said with a trembling smile. ‘Not without you.’
And he smiled. A wide, comforting smile that warmed her bruised and battered heart.
‘Give me two minutes,’ he said. ‘I won’t be any longer.’
She hoped he wouldn’t be. She didn’t want Rita to suddenly appear. The ward clerk might have been a thorn in her side ever since she’d come to St Piran, but she could not find it in her to gloat over Rita’s clear discomfiture, though she knew many of the hospital staff undoubtedly would. All she wanted was to go home, to have some peace and quiet to come to terms with Nicola’s appearance, but peace turned out to be in short supply when Connor returned and they walked together down the stairs towards the exit.
The nearer they got to the ground floor, the more Brianna became aware of the sound of angry voices. Voices that seemed to be raised in unison, in something that sounded almost like a chant, and when she and Connor reached the entrance hall to the hospital she stopped dead.
The forecourt in front of the hospital was a seething mass of people. People of all ages and sexes who were carrying placards with the letters ‘SOB’ painted on them.
‘What in the world…?’ she began, as Connor let out a muttered oath. ‘It looks like some kind of demonstration, but what on earth are people demonstrating about, and what does SOB mean?’
‘Brianna, come back into the hospital,’ Connor said quickly. ‘I need to talk to you. My report…it’s nowhere near completed yet. I still have lots of departments to assess, and what I’ve written is simply an initial recommendation, based on my first impressions, not a definitive view.’
‘But, how would anyone know what you’d written?’ she said in confusion. ‘Not even the secretaries in Admin are good enough to read your mind.’
‘My notes were on that memory card—the one I lost or…’ Connor came to a halt and frowned. Kennie Vernon was amongst the demonstrators, notebook in hand, and he smiled when he saw Connor, a smile that was triumphant, and Connor swore, long and low, and fluently. ‘He must have taken it. It was in the staffroom with my laptop yesterday when he came in to see Brooke. That low-life reporter must have taken it.’
‘But what did your notes say?’ Brianna demanded, still confused. ‘What do all these banners mean?’
‘Bree, I’m sorry, those notes were private, no one was supposed to see them yet, and they’re only my thoughts, suggestions.’
His voice trailed away into silence, and as she stared at him blankly the penny dropped, and her blankness gave way to anger. A seething, furious anger.
‘SOB,’ she said. ‘It stands for Save Our Babies, doesn’t it? You’ve recommended to the board that they shut down the neonatal intensive care unit.’ ‘Brianna, it’s not definite yet—’ ‘But you’ve recommended it,’ she repeated. ‘You looked at our unit, and you had the…the callousness…the insensitivity…to actually say it wasn’t doing a good job!’
‘It’s not a question of whether it’s doing a good job or not,’ he said defensively. ‘The work that’s done in the unit is second to none—I would never disagree with that—but I have to go by the statistics—figures. The unit in Plymouth can cater for double the amount of babies—’
‘Cater?’ she exclaimed. ‘Cater? Connor, we’re not some sort of fast-food restaurant, we’re a specialist nursing centre!’ ‘Brianna—’
‘And if you shut us down it’s not simply a case of saying, well, all the babies can go to Plymouth. What about the winter, when the roads are icy, or blocked with snow? What about the height of summer when the road is packed with slow-moving caravans and sightseeing tourists? That thirty-mile journey could take an hour—more!’
‘If it’s a real emergency you have a helicopter service—’
‘Which could be out on another call when we need it, or grounded by ice or gale-force winds.’
‘Brianna—’
‘It’s always been figures and numbers, for you, hasn’t it?’ she said furiously. ‘Forget about what people—real people—want or need. Connor, can’t you see that not everything can be neatly tied up in a balance sheet?’
‘But it makes good medical as well as economic sense,’ he protested. ‘Can’t you at least see that?’
It also meant something else, she realised. Something that was altogether much, much closer to home.
‘There’ll also be no nurse unit manager’s job for me either, will there, if you shut us down?’ she said icily. ‘Is that why you’re doing this, because you think if I don’t have a job I’ll come back to you?’
‘Of course that isn’t what I thought! ‘ he exclaimed, anger darkening his face. ‘Brianna, listen to me—’
‘And to think I told Rita you’d never let personal bias influence your work,’ she continued, fury plain in her voice. ‘You took one look at Penhally, and St Piran, and thought dead-end places. You thought no way would I ever want to live here, so let’s make sure Brianna can’t either, and then she’ll meekly come back with me to London.’
‘That never occurred to me for a second,’ he flared.
‘Just like it didn’t occur to you last night to tell me what you were planning to do with my unit,’ she retorted. ‘You let me think you’d changed, Connor. You made me think you cared—’
‘I did—I do—’
‘Then how can you even think of shutting down an NICU?’ she cried. ‘It’s where Harry spent his few hours of life, where all these babies I look after get a chance to live. OK, so we couldn’t save Harry, but just because we couldn’t it doesn’t mean you should deny all these other babies that chance.’
‘Brianna—’
‘I want you out of my house when I get home tonight,’ she said, her voice shaking with anger. ‘I want you, and your posh designer suits, and your expensive shirts and shoes, and your damn, all-singing-all-dancing phone out of my house by the time I get home, and if they’re not I’ll dump the whole lot in my garden.’
‘Can’t we at least sit down and talk about this like sensible human beings? ‘ he exclaimed. ‘If you would just let me explain—’
‘There’s no need to,’ she interrupted, ‘because I already know what you are. You’re a bastard, Connor. A complete and utter bastard.’
And she walked away from him, pushing her way through the demonstrators who had now spilled out of the forecourt and into the hospital foyer, only to discover her way barred by Kennie Vernon. Normally she would have walked straight past him, but this time she didn’t. This time she stopped and, sensing a scoop, he pulled out his pen.
‘Do you have a comment for me, Sister Flannigan, for our readers?’
Brianna glanced over her shoulder. Someone in the crowd had clearly recognised Connor because he had been surrounded by demonstrators, and was being heckled mercilessly.
‘Yes, I have a comment to make,’ she said, completely uncaring of what Admin might say when they saw her words on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. ‘I think even the idea of shutting down our NICU is an appalling one. We have an excellent unit here. A unit that serves the needs of the local community, and I am fully behind this protest, and I wish the organisers well.’
And she made for the stairs, looking over her shoulder only once, when a great cheer went up. Someone had thrown an egg at Connor. An egg which had landed smack-bang on the front of his smart city suit. And her one thought as she headed back to the unit was she wished she’d had an egg because she would have thrown it, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WE NEVER thought this day would come, Sister Flannigan.’ Naomi Renwick beamed. ‘To be finally taking Amy home.’
‘And I’ve taken a photograph of her—for your graduation board,’ Naomi’s husband declared. ‘So other mothers a
nd fathers can see there truly can be light at the end of the tunnel.’
‘It’s a lovely picture,’ Brianna said as she took the photograph Mr Renwick was holding out to her. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘We were hoping we might see Mr Monahan before we go,’ Naomi said. ‘He’s been so supportive over this last month, always stopping by for a chat whenever my husband and I have visited Amy in the evening.’
‘He has—he did?’ Brianna said faintly. ‘I…I didn’t know that.’
‘He’s a nice bloke,’ Mr Renwick observed, ‘and he seemed quite taken with our Amy. As I said to him, you’re clearly getting broody, Connor, so maybe you and Sister Flannigan should be thinking about having kids of your own soon.’
‘And…and what did he say to that?’ Brianna asked through a throat so tight it hurt.
‘He just smiled,’ Naomi replied. ‘Look, I know he got a lot of very bad press after his notes were published in the Gazette,’ Amy’s mother continued quickly as Brianna took a shaky breath, ‘but we can honestly say your husband never had anything but praise for the unit when he was talking to us.’
Connor hadn’t simply got bad press, Brianna remembered. The board had been forced to issue a statement declaring no decision had been made about any cuts to services, but nobody in the hospital had believed that. Everyone simply thought that if NICU couldn’t be closed because of the public outcry, it only meant some other department would be shut down instead.
‘Connor did say he would definitely see us and Amy before we left,’ Mr Renwick said, ‘and I told him we’d be collecting her at four o’clock, so maybe we could give him another few minutes?’
The couple didn’t have to. The ward door had opened, and Connor appeared.
‘You made it, Connor.’ Mr Renwick beamed. ‘We thought you might have forgotten, or been too busy.’
‘I’d never be too busy for such a momentous occasion, and I most certainly wouldn’t forget,’ he replied.
And his gaze was fixed firmly on the Renwicks, Brianna noticed, but what had she expected? He’d tried to talk to her over the past five weeks, had left innumerable messages on her answering-machine, had once even come to her cottage, and she’d refused to open the door. She’d been so angry, so very angry. A part of her still was, and yet, as she gazed up at him, all she could think was this was his last day in the hospital. Tomorrow he would leave St Piran, and, when he left, their marriage would be finally, and irrevocably, be over.
‘Sister Flannigan, can we take a photograph of you and Connor together?’ Mr Renwick asked. ‘It would be something to show Amy when she grows up. A picture of the husband-and-wife team who helped her parents so much.’
‘I really think it should just be a photograph of Sister Flannigan,’ Connor said quickly, but Naomi shook her head.
‘I want the two of you together,’ she said.
Which was fine in theory, Brianna thought, but not so fine in practice. Naomi clearly wanted a ‘happy couple’ photograph, and neither of them fitted that bill any more.
‘Connor, can’t you at least put your arm around her? ‘ Naomi protested. ‘You’re standing there looking like she’s a complete stranger, and Sister Flannigan, a smile would be nice. I don’t want Amy looking at this photograph in years to come and saying, “Yikes, they look grim”, and I’m sure you don’t want a picture of yourselves looking like a pair of stuffed dummies.’
And Connor dutifully put his arm around her, and Brianna forced herself to smile, and tried very hard not to cry.
All the dreams she’d had ten years ago on their wedding day. All the plans she’d made, the hopes she’d had, and now the last photograph of them together would be of her wearing a manufactured smile, and him not even attempting to smile at all.
Tell him you don’t want him to go, her heart whispered. Tell him you want him to stay here, to try to make your marriage work.
But she couldn’t. Connor and Cornwall were as compatible as cheese and gravy, and she couldn’t go back to London with him. She knew she would just shrivel up and die in the city so, when the Renwicks carried their daughter out of the ward, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on them, and only let out the breath she knew she’d been holding when she heard the ward door shut.
‘Colin’s had three full bottles today,’ Nicola Hallet said proudly as Brianna slowly walked past her. ‘Dr Phillips said if he keeps on progressing like this she’ll be recommending he’s moved out of NICU and into Special Care, and after that…’ Nicola beamed. ‘Home. I’ll finally be able to take him home.’
‘That’s terrific news, Nicola,’ Brianna said, meaning it.
Young though the teenager might be, Nicola was proving to be an excellent, and completely devoted, mother, coming in every day to feed and bathe her son, and to talk and play with him.
‘Your husband said he wants me to keep in touch with him, to let him know how Colin is, when he goes back to London,’ Nicola continued, gazing fondly down at her son. ‘Wasn’t that kind of him?’
‘Very kind,’ Brianna said unevenly. ‘When.when did he say all this?’
‘On one of his visits to the unit,’ Nicola replied. ‘He’s been coming here a lot in the evening.’
Who else had Connor been talking to? Brianna wondered, taking a shaky breath. First the Renwicks, and now Nicola, but why? What had drawn him back here, apparently night after night?
‘Nicola—’
‘How’s my favourite boy in all the world? ‘ Jess asked with a smile as she joined them.
‘Dr Phillips said she’s thinking of moving Colin to Special Care next week,’ Nicola answered.
‘That’s wonderful news,’ the counsellor declared, then glanced across at Brianna. ‘Have you a moment?’
‘Something wrong?’ Brianna asked as she followed Jess across the ward, and the counsellor shook her head.
‘I passed Connor in the corridor on my way in, and he said he’d like a word with you, if you’ve time.’
He wanted to say goodbye, Brianna realised, and she didn’t want to say goodbye, didn’t think her heart could take that.
‘I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment,’ she lied, and Jess sighed.
‘Brianna, talk to him,’ she said softly. ‘What harm can it do just to talk to him?’
‘Jess, what is there left for us to say that we haven’t already said?’ Brianna said sadly. ‘I think a clean break, with no goodbyes, is best.’
‘And you truly believe that? ‘ Jess said with eyes that saw too much.
‘Jess, just leave it, OK?’
‘But, Brianna—’
She didn’t give the counsellor time to finish. Instead, she walked over to one of the monitors, and swallowed hard. If talking to Connor would have changed anything, she would have done it in a minute, but it wouldn’t change anything, she knew it wouldn’t.
Determinedly, she picked up the pile of files stacked on the nurses’ work station. She should have tackled them days ago, but she’d been so tired recently. Tired and uncharacteristically weepy, and she bit her lip. Maybe she should never have accepted the nurse unit manager’s job. Maybe she just wasn’t up to it, and she ought to simply tell Mr Brooke so.
‘Brianna? ‘
She glanced over her shoulder to see Megan standing behind her.
‘I’ve just passed Connor in the corridor,’ the paediatric specialist registrar declared, ‘and he said he’d like—’
‘A word with me,’ Brianna finished for her. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘I can hold the fort for you here, if you want. It would be no trouble.’
‘Look, what is this?’ Brianna exclaimed, taking refuge in anger. ‘If it’s not you, it’s Jess, trying to push me out the door to talk to him.’
‘I just thought that, as this is his last day…’
‘I know what you thought,’ Brianna said tightly, ‘and, trust me, it isn’t going to happen.’
‘Brianna, don’t you think you should at least let him say what he wan
ts to say?’ Megan said, her eyes concerned. ‘You can tear him to shreds afterwards if you want, but, when he’s been the one continually holding out the olive branch, couldn’t you at least meet him halfway and hear him out?’
‘Yeah, right. Like you do with Josh, you mean?’ Brianna snapped. ‘I can’t say I’ve seen any signs of that.’
Megan flushed scarlet, opened her mouth, then closed it again tightly.
‘OK, if that’s how you feel,’ she said, ‘but I’m not going out there to tell him you won’t see him. You can do that yourself, or you can leave him standing in the corridor waiting for hours in the hope you might change your mind. Your choice.’
‘Megan—’
The paediatric specialist registrar had walked away, and Brianna started after her, then stopped. What in the world was happening to her? Megan and Jess both meant well, she knew they did, and yet she’d chewed their heads off. Chewed the heads off the two women she’d always thought of as friends, and she wanted to burst into tears again, and she really had to stop wanting to burst into tears.
Go and see him, a little voice whispered at the back of her mind. You want to, you know you do, so go and see him.
I can’t, her heart cried. I can’t. I don’t want to say goodbye.
It will be the last time you ever see him, the little voice whispered. The last time you’ll ever see his face. And before she was even aware she was moving, she was out in the corridor and he was there, waiting for her.
‘Thanks for agreeing to see me,’ he said.
Lord, but he looked so nervous, so awkward and uncomfortable, totally unlike her normally super-confident husband.
‘Megan and Jess, seemed to think it was important,’ she replied, only to realise, too late, just how awful her words sounded, as though her friends might care about him but she did not. ‘I mean—’
‘I thought you should know what’s in my report to the board before it becomes common knowledge tomorrow,’ he interrupted.
‘You don’t have to tell me the details,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t need to know before anyone else does.’
‘Yes, you do,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve recommended no departments, or wards, should be shut.’
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