Midwife's Baby Wish

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘I’ve told you! I make my own decisions. But, Adam, Jeremy was absolutely clear. You are not to cut off his foot – even to save his life.’

  ‘I know. I could be sued, perhaps I could be struck off.’ He turned to Jack. ‘Is there a protocol for this? What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘You’re not supposed to leave a man to burn to death,’ Jack said sturdily. ‘If you like, I’ll order you to cut off his foot. I’m senior officer here, I make the decisions.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of hiding behind you,’ Adam said. ‘This is a decision I take. Now, how long have we got before we must start?’

  ‘I’d say about five minutes. Perhaps ten. I’ll go up towards the fire, run back when there just isn’t any more time.’

  Lyn thought that there was no time already. The air was full of burning debris, the heat almost unendurable. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked Adam. ‘This decision is too much to ask of one man.’

  ‘Decisions have to be made. I’ve made mine.’ His voice was flat but she could feel the emotion underneath.

  ‘Then I want to say I entirely agree with you.’ She held his gaze.

  Jack reappeared above them. ‘Get ready,’ he called. ‘There’s not much time left.’

  Adam pointed at the trapped leg. ‘Clean there as well as you can, Lyn, and then swab with alcohol. Then get yourself as sterile as possible and open the kit.’ He paused and said, ‘There should be a sterile bag there. When the … foot is amputated you are to clean the wound with saline solution and fasten the foot in the bag. It must go with Jeremy to hospital.’

  Above them she heard Jack suck in his breath at this. He wasn’t as tough as he’d thought. But she was – she had to be.

  She did as she was told. Then she poured alcohol over Adam’s hands and assisted him in drawing on a pair of gloves.

  ‘There’s no one I have more confidence in than you,’ he said. Tears came to her eyes, but she said nothing.

  Above them they could hear Jack mumbling into his radio. ‘We can start when you tell us,’ Adam shouted up to him.

  ‘Probably soon,’ Jack shouted back. ‘But not yet.’

  Time passed, seconds or hours – Lyn didn’t know. She looked down at Jeremy, his leg bare where she had cut away his trousers, smelled the alcohol she had splashed around so liberally. For a moment she was aware of her own body, the sweat running between her breasts, from under her arms, down her forehead and into her eyes. She looked at Adam. If she was in as big a mess as he was, she must look a sight! But in spite of his discomfort he remained calm, determined.

  When would Jack tell them to start? He couldn’t expect them to wait indefinitely! She heard the mumble of his radio again. And more time passed.

  ‘Doctor … Doctor … things are getting worse. Perhaps you’d better … start now.’ And then, as if saying it would help him deal with the horror, Jack said in a strangled voice, ‘Cut his foot off so we can save his life.’

  For a moment neither Adam nor she moved. They looked down at the unconscious Jeremy. Then Adam took the tourniquet she offered him, fastened it round the leg and tightened it. She handed him a scalpel. He hesitated.

  Lyn remembered a surgeon once telling her that the first incision was always the worst. There in front of him was naked skin, and he had to cut into it. There was a sense of intrusion, of violation. It only lasted a second, but it was there. Perhaps that was what Adam was feeling now.

  ‘Hang on! Don’t start yet, hang on!’ Suddenly Jack jumped down into the ditch. She looked at his dirty face, saw an expression she hadn’t seen for a while. Was it hope?

  ‘Things are changing a bit,’ he said, ‘I’m getting reports … hang on a bit longer.’

  Adam carefully put down the scalpel, stooped and loosened the tourniquet. Then he turned to look expressionlessly at Jack. In silence they waited a further five minutes. Jack’s radio crackled again, and he turned to look at them.

  ‘Fire’s a funny thing,’ he said, ‘not that I’m laughing much. And fire and wind is even funnier. The wind’s veered. And the fire front is now going away from us. You can stand easy for a while longer.’

  ‘You mean we’re safe?’ She couldn’t believe it.

  ‘You’re never safe in a fire. But right now it’s not coming our way. If we can hang on for another twenty minutes, we’ll have the jack and the cutters here. Then we can get him out and carry him to safety. If the wind doesn’t change again.’

  It didn’t seem any less hot to Lyn, but Jack was the expert and she’d take his word. She looked at Adam, hot, sweaty, dirty and still wonderful. He looked back at her, and seemed to read her mind. ‘Not everyone can look as professional as you do under these circumstances, Nurse,’ he said with a grin. ‘Let’s check our patient again. I think there’s just enough blood getting through to his foot. Otherwise he’d have to lose it anyway. But there’s no need to worry about gangrene.’

  ‘He’s lucky. D’you think he’ll come birdwatching again?’

  ‘Sure he will. He’s that type. One of those people who knows what they want, and goes for it no matter what the consequences.’

  There was another wait. Then above them there seemed to be no end of vehicles – an ambulance with the green-coated paramedics, another fire appliance. And two men were carrying a great machine down to them.

  ‘The jack and the cutters,’ said Jack. ‘Would you like to move back a little? Now we’ve got the right kit we’ll have him free in five minutes.’

  She noticed that Adam stayed well back, let the paramedics put an emergency dressing on the leg once the foot had been freed. Then Jeremy was lifted onto the road, strapped into the ambulance and driven away.

  ‘I’ll give you a lift back to your cars,’ Jack said. ‘You’ve done well, but I think we’re on top of things now.’

  Once back in the clearing Adam phoned Cal, reported what had happened. ‘Cal says we’re both to have the rest of the day off,’ he said. ‘How d’you feel?’

  ‘Hot, dirty, tired and a bit weepy,’ she told him. ‘I’m not used to this high drama.’

  He stepped up to her, hugged her, and even though he was as smelly as she was, she loved the feel of him. ‘Are you OK to drive?’ he asked.

  ‘If we can get away from the heat and smell then, yes, I’m fine to drive. I’m a midwife remember. We have a hard life.’

  ‘I can believe it. All right, we go back home. But drive slowly and I’ll follow you.’

  So slowly they drove home. It seemed odd to stop outside her cottage, to see it so clean, so fresh, to see the flowers she had planted round the door. For a moment Lyn just didn’t have the energy to get out of the car. The stink of the fire was still in it and she felt that she might pollute the fresh atmosphere if she stepped out. But arriving home was anticlimactic.

  Adam appeared at her window. ‘Go and get in a bath, lie there and soak and get rid of the smell of fire.’ He seemed to be taking charge but she didn’t care. He went on, ‘I’ll go to my place, have a bath myself, organise some food and some wine for us. Leave your front door open. Oh, and take a drink into the bath. We’ll both be dehydrated.’

  She was happy to let him arrange things. She didn’t want to think. She staggered upstairs, left her smelly uniform in a pile on the bathroom floor, ran a long bath full of foam and decided to lie there until some force moved her. And it was good!

  When the water seemed to be getting cold she let some drain away, turned on the hot tap with her toe and warmed it up. Today had been too full. She was just going to lie here and not think.

  After a while there was a tap on her bathroom door. ‘Not drowned or gone to sleep? Dinner is served and the wine’s uncorked.’

  Dinner? Wine? ‘You can’t have cooked in that time,’ she said.

  ‘No need to cook. I’ve got a phone. I ordered a takeaway. Come on, we’ve got the banquet. I’ll be downstairs.’

  Lyn climbed out of the bath, wrapped a large towel round her and ventured to her bedroo
m. On the landing she could smell the food below and it suddenly hit her. She was ravenous. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

  In her bedroom she pulled on new underwear, not worn before. Even for her it was a bit special, a confection of lace that stated rather than concealed. Then she decided that she needed to be even more feminine tonight and put on soft cotton trousers and. a pretty top. Then she went downstairs.

  She was pleased to see that Adam too was dressed casually in his customary T-shirt and chinos. ‘I’ve raided your kitchen,’ he said. ‘I’ve found cutlery, plates and glasses. With a Chinese meal I think we ought to have white wine so I’ve brought a Sancerre. We can sit and have a civilised meal, be civilised people. I’ve arranged it that any calls to you or me will be diverted. We are both now, absolutely and completely, off limits. We can think of each other, not work.’

  Lyn considered this. ‘Let’s eat first,’ she said.

  The meal was marvellous. Afterwards Adam made her sit on the couch with another glass of wine and cleared away the dishes. ‘Don’t argue,’ he said. ‘I’m going to wash up. There’s hardly anything anyway.’

  Five minutes later Adam joined her, his own glass in his hand. She was sitting with her back to the side of the couch, her legs stretched along it, her feet now bare. He sat at the other end of the couch, lifted her feet so that they rested on his knee. ‘We’re a good team,’ he said. ‘We work well together. I’ve said it before, but it’s true.’

  ‘You’re a good doctor.’

  ‘Possibly. And you’re a good midwife. But that’s not what I’m saying. This afternoon and this evening, we hardly needed to talk to each other. I didn’t need to tell you anything, you knew already.’

  She was cautious. ‘It happens that way sometimes,’ she said. ‘It always has with us.’

  ‘We know each other’s thoughts. We’re a successful team.’ He was stroking her feet now, sometimes his hand sliding up to her knees. A gentle caress, but so soothing, so pleasant. ‘Do you know what I’m thinking now?’

  Lyn lowered her head, decided not to reply.

  After a while he went on, ‘About Jeremy. How he was willing to risk everything to get what he wanted. Even his life. Now, I think he was mistaken, but we have to admire his determination.’

  ‘I’m glad things worked out for him,’ she said. But she knew they weren’t talking about Jeremy.

  ‘Perhaps things will work out for me, too. I’m going to forget what you told me, and risk everything.’ His voice had altered. Before it had been soothing, now it was harsher.

  Adam pulled her legs further over his knees, slid along the couch until he could take both her hands. ‘Lyn, I love you. I love you more than I thought it possible to love anyone. I want to marry you, I can’t think of a life without you.’

  All she could do was bow her head, shake it. No way could she look at him, speak to him.

  He went on, his voice more urgent than ever. ‘We know each other. I think … I know you feel the same as me. I know you’ve told me that you can’t have children and I won’t lie to you and say it doesn’t matter. But we can rise above it if we’re together!’

  It sounded such a good idea. But she knew that she had to …

  In a totally different voice he said, ‘And, anyway, who says you can’t have children?’

  It wasn’t the question she had expected. ‘My O and G consultant. Mr Smilie.’ She didn’t want to move, but she ran upstairs and fetched the well-thumbed letter. How many times had she read and reread it? She came back to the couch, and this time his legs were stretched out along it. He made her sit between them so her back was against his chest and his arms could hold her.

  ‘I’ll tell you before I show you,’ Lyn said. ‘I love you, Adam, as much as you love me. But we couldn’t live together. You want, you need children. Don’t try to tell me different, you’re one of Nature’s fathers. And I can’t have children. Here, read the letter.’

  His voice was expressionless. ‘Someone says you can’t have children? That’s a big thing to say for definite. But let’s see what we’ve got.’

  He held the letter with one hand, the other round her, pulling her close to him. It was warm and comforting.

  ‘Mr Smilie? He’s a good man, very kind. I’ve talked to him once or twice. But he’s getting on. I wouldn’t exactly call him cutting edge, would you? He’s only a doctor, he could be wrong. Did you ever think of getting a second opinion?’

  ‘You’re only saying that to be nice to me!’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m just offering another doctor’s opinion. I can see why he reached his conclusions, but I don’t see enough to be definite.’ He reached over her shoulder, his hand holding a print of an X-ray. There are definite problems here, but not as big as they might be.’

  ‘You think I could have a baby after all?’

  ‘Not necessarily. But I don’t see enough to condemn you out of hand. Mind if I show these to someone else?

  Lyn shrugged. ‘If you think it will do any good. But I suspect that …’

  He threw the papers onto the floor, seized her shoulders and turned her so she was facing him. ‘That’s not the point. Lyn, somehow, I’ve managed without children until now and have been quite happy. I can manage for longer. Certainly I would like them. But I can’t envisage life without you. For me that would be a dark end to my life. I love you, Lyn, I want to marry you. So will you marry me?’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts! Do what your heart tells you to do. And it tells you to say yes. So I’ll ask you again – will you marry me?’

  She thought about it. She thought for perhaps five, ten, fifteen seconds. Then she said, ‘Of course I’ll marry you. And you’ll make me the happiest woman in Keldale.’

  ‘How I’ll try,’ he said.

  Epilogue

  It rained as they lay in bed together that night. Lyn woke to hear the drumming on the window. She slid out of bed to open it, let the rain come through and caress her naked body. The world smelled new and fresh.

  Without turning, she knew Adam was behind her. He stretched his arms round her, pulled her back to rest against him. She liked the way their skins rubbed together.

  ‘Things are changing,’ he said, ‘for the better. For the world and for you and me.’

  ‘Things are changing,’ she echoed. ‘And they make me so happy.’

  They agreed to wait a while before making any official announcement. Not that it did much good.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Jane said, ‘I can read it in your face and in Adam’s. Just make sure you don’t get married before Cal and I do. We decided first.’

  ‘We’re just seeing each other,’ Lyn protested. ‘All right, we go out together and we’ve … we’ve …’

  ‘I’ll bet you have,’ Jane said. ‘You know, it’s something in those cottages. Something in the walls perhaps.’

  ‘We’ll just have to see how things go.’

  Now that they knew they were in love, it didn’t seem to matter that they were moving slowly. They had to get to know each other. Lyn went down to London with Adam, stayed with his friends, saw where he used to work, the flat he had rented out. ‘You know I will come down to live with you here if you want,’ she said, as they sat in their hotel room. ‘I’ll be happy if I’m with you.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to come back, I’m missing Keldale already. The air, the traffic here, they’re awful!’

  ‘But what about your TV work? Ros’ll be upset.’

  ‘No, she won’t. She says she’ll be more than happy to work out of Manchester. I can still do the odd programme with her. Even the American programmes.’

  That night they were invited to dinner by an old friend of Adam’s – Colin Kitt. He was also a doctor, a burly, cheerful man who told her that he was still playing rugby though he knew that he ought to have more sense. ‘But I like it, so I do it,’ he said.

  He took them to a Cajun restaurant in Crouch Hill and she had a meal l
ike nothing she’d ever had in the Lake District.

  Surprisingly, Adam seemed a little out of sorts that evening. He was good company – he was always good company – but he didn’t say as much as Colin.

  ‘I won’t forgive you for taking Adam away from us,’ Colin said at the end of the meal. ‘We need doctors like him down here. Ah, Cajun coffee.’

  Lyn blinked at what came next. A balloon glass spilling over with cream and... She sniffed. ‘What’s that gorgeous smell?’ she asked.

  ‘Alcohol.’ Colin beamed. ‘How I love it.’

  It tasted as good as it smelled, and when she had finished it she felt decidedly happy.

  Perhaps this was what Colin had intended. As the glasses were moved away, his voice became more serious. ‘I want to give you an engagement present. Adam didn’t tell you but I’m a gynaecologist. In fact, I’m one of the best in the country.’

  His voice was matter-of-fact, he knew this was true and he wasn’t boasting.

  ‘Adam has showed me your medical notes. I know Terry Smilie. He’s good, he’s cautious, he’s caring. But I’m younger, I’m better and, most important, I’m hopeful.’

  She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. ‘What are you telling me?’

  ‘I want you to come to my clinic. I’ll do my own tests, perhaps later on you might have just a small operation. A dye insufflation in your Fallopian tubes. Then … well … it’s always a gamble. But you certainly will have a better chance of conceiving. What do you say?’

  ‘Let’s gamble,’ Lyn said.

  Shortly afterwards they got engaged. But there was no great hurry, and there was Jane’s and Cal’s wedding at Whitsun first. But Adam moved into Lyn’s cottage. He had been offered a partnership in the practice and had accepted it at once.

  Then it was early autumn again, a year since they’d first met. She was working in the kitchen when he came home, kissed her neck as usual and then perched on a stool in the corner to read his paper.

  ‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘You know we said perhaps we’d get married next spring?’

  ‘Whenever,’ he said. ‘I like spring weddings.’