On the ward Jenny had been given sleeping pills to enable her to sleep. Now she had to manage without. And she knew it was a good idea, she didn't want to become addicted to them. She hardly slept at all and when she did sleep she was tormented by memories of the last few microseconds before the accident. She thought she could see the bonnet of the car bearing down on her, feel that first crunch, hear the sound of bones snapping. Then she woke, moaning to herself, her body covered in sweat.
Mike came in early next morning, brought her a small glass of orange juice. He frowned down at her, put his hand on her forehead.
'How did you sleep? Was the bed comfortable?'
She was too tired to try to lie to him. 'The bed is fine. But I just... I kept on remembering the accident and then I was afraid again.'
'Jenny, you've had a very serious accident. Your mind took a beating as well as your body; you're suffering from post-traumatic stress. It will pass but perhaps you should speak to Mr Spenser about it.'
'Perhaps you're right, we'll see.'
Sometimes she had visions, nightmares in the day while she was awake. She thought of herself, her friends being involved in the worst of accidents. And tears would come to her eyes, her body would shiver and she just knew that the worst things in the world were going to happen. They never did. But she knew they would.
One afternoon she was sitting in the sitting room in her wheelchair, trying to read. She was keeping a vague eye on Sam. Sue was in the kitchen. And suddenly there was a vision of what might have happened if she hadn't got to Sam in time. She saw the little body rocking into the air, the small bones shattering and the blood pouring.
'Sam, Sam, come here,' she moaned.
Obediently, he came. She pulled him onto her lap, wrapped her arms around him and tried to take strength from the fact that he was alive. And that was how Sue found them five minutes later.
'Sam! Jenny, is he all right?'
Jenny lifted her anguished face. 'He's fine Sue, he's fine. He's a lovely little boy. But I just thought that he might have been hit by that car and he might have been hurt and it was so real that... that, Sue, I couldn't stand it.'
Fortunately Sue was a nurse; she could guess what Jenny was going through. And she was a mother too. So she knelt by the wheelchair, spread her arms around both Sam and Jenny.
'We'll all be well soon,' she whispered.
And slowly the stress passed.
'It's interesting how we've changed,' Mike said, three weeks after she'd moved into the house. 'When you moved in I used to worry all the time about how you'd manage. All I could think was that you'd had an accident, you were an invalid and I had to be careful not to make things worse. But now you're you again. I see you, not someone who's been hurt.'
'Good. And you've stopped treating me as if I might break every time you touch me. So we move on to the next step. I want to go back to work.'
'You can't! Don't even think of it!'
'I can. And I've thought of it quite a lot. I can lecture, see students and I can even do a bit of work on the wards. And don't forget the new rules. The department is wheelchair friendly.'
'But you're—'
'I'm capable of work. And, Mike, I'm bored out of my skull!'
'Even with the delights of my constant companionship?'
'Even then. And there's another thing. I know Sue's been invited to go away to visit an old friend and take Sam. She won't go while she thinks I'm still an invalid. If I'm working she'll know that I'm getting back to normal.'
He nodded. 'I'll tell her that she should go. I can look after you.'
'Mike! I don't need looking after; I just want to go back to work. I'm going to phone the boss tomorrow morning.'
He looked thoughtful. 'Let me have a word with him first. I'll get him to come round and talk to you. I must say, he's been having quite a time of it without you. Says he never quite realised just how much you did for him.'
'Nice to be appreciated,' said Jenny. 'Now, practicalities. I'll go in with you when it's convenient for you—and only then. The rest of the time I'll travel by taxi.'
She should have known that that would start a further argument.
It was arranged that she was to start on a Friday, just to see how things went. She was to work for only half a day. Then there would be the weekend off. If things went well, she was to come in only for half a day at a time, and only when she felt up to it. Her own consultant had phoned Mr Spenser who had said that a limited work schedule could do her nothing but good. But it must be limited. And the university medical department was overjoyed.
Going back was odd. Her room—her very own room—seemed strange. Many people stopped her to say how pleased they were to see her. Of course, all her friends had been round to see her but seeing them again as colleagues was odd. And if she saw pity in two or three faces, she tried to ignore it.
She was scheduled to give a lecture. She felt strangely nervous, though there was no need; she had prepared and delivered the same lecture often before. But she wasn't sure how she would feel as she bumped her way into the lecture theatre, her notes on her lap.
She wasn't expecting it but when she entered, her class stood and clapped. And that was a shock. For a moment emotion took over, she thought she could almost feel the goodwill of the group. Her chest constricted, she felt tears prick her eyes and she wondered if she'd be able to get one sensible sentence out. But then she swallowed, fought back. She was Jenny Carson, midwife and lecturer, a professional. She didn't give way to unnecessary displays of feeling.
'Thank you all. And before any of you ask, I'm feeling fine. I'd also like to thank you all for the flowers you sent, the presents, the visits and the messages of goodwill. But now it's time to work. We will talk about the care of the baby who just doesn't seem to be gaining weight...'
It was good to be back in work. Her back ached a little, but that was all. She could cope with it. Mike took time off at lunchtime to drive her home—as he had driven her in that morning. Sue had gone on her visit with Sam and this would be the first time Jenny had been alone in the house.
'I'll be all right,' she insisted to Mike. 'All right, yes, I will keep my mobile with me at all times. And I'll phone you if there's any trouble.'
She grinned to herself as he left, wondered how long it would be before he phoned her to make sure all was well.
Then she wheeled herself into the kitchen and prepared a meal. She was tired of being useless.
They were alone in the house that evening. There was a peculiar intimacy as she and Mike sat at the kitchen table and ate their evening meal.
Like any other long-established couple, in the evening they sat together on the couch and watched television. His arm was around her shoulder and from time to time he kissed her, gently, tenderly. And soon it was time for bed.
He kissed her again, in the same relaxed way. But this time she put her arms around his neck, pulled him to her and kissed him properly. She felt the muscles of his arms and chest tense in surprise. Then he gently eased her away.
'What's the matter?' she asked. 'Don't you love me any more?'
He looked at her, wide-eyed. 'Of course I love you!'
'Do you like making love to me?'
'How can you ask that? I can't tell you how much I miss it. I miss being with you that way so desperately. But I've got you with me and that's all that matters.'
Her voice was firm, she was proud of it. 'I want you to make love to me tonight.'
'But Jenny, how can we—?'
'We can with a little bit of thought. My scars have healed, the stitches are long gone. My legs may be paralysed but a lot of the rest of me still has feelings. And if you're really worried, I'll tell you that I phoned Mr Spenser this afternoon. He said that things should be fine.'
Mike blinked. 'Jenny, I don't know what to—'
'I'm going to wash now and then go to bed. And I want you to come to me when I call. That all right?'
She wriggled herself into her wheelchair and was gone before he could answer.
It was a warm night. She washed and then eased herself into bed. She was practised now; it was easy. The only covering she needed was a sheet. She pulled it up to her chin, switched off all the lights but the bedside light. Then she called to him.
He came into the room and, with an abandon that she hadn't known she possessed, she pulled aside the sheet. She wanted to be naked before him. 'Now you undress,' she said.
She watched the shadowy form moving, heard the rustle of clothes and then he, too, was naked. He came to her.
'I'm still afraid of hurting you,' he said, his voice thick.
'You can't hurt me, you love me. Do you know how much I've missed having you... with me?'
'As much as I've missed you,' he growled.
'Well, you can start by kissing me. And not as if you're kissing your grandmother.'
There was a change in the tone of his voice, a slight edge of humour. 'This won't be like kissing my grandmother. I can promise you that.'
He bent over her, his lips touched hers. She put her arms around him, tried to pull him down onto her. He resisted. In a mocking voice he said, 'If I'm going to kiss you, I want to do it in my own way.'
She wondered what he meant. But what he was doing was pretty good.
First he kissed her lips, her face. Then he trailed kisses down her neck and her throat and she clutched him to her as she realised what he was going to do. He kissed her breasts, holding the pinkness between his lips until she ached with need for him.
'Mike... please, Mike, now... Mike, I need you, come to me.'
But it was no good, he had his own ideas. He ran his tongue over the gentle swell of her belly and then further below.
'Mike, please...You mustn't... Oh, Mike...'
She sighed, then panted with ecstasy as his tongue found places where there was so much pleasure, so much joy that she thought she might die of rapture. And finally there was that explosion that went on and on, that sensation that made her scream his name and smash her arms into the bedding.
Then he crouched beside her head, put his cheek next to hers. For a while she was content just to he there. Then she whispered, 'Mike, I'm ready now. I promise to tell you if it hurts but you must try. Please, Mike, you've given me so much, I want to share it.'
He paused. Then with infinite delicacy he knelt astride her on her narrow bed. She ran her hands over his body, could feel his urgency, his need for her. A great happiness came to her; this is what she wanted to do. Not for him, for them.
Gently he lowered himself onto her, into her. And it was fine. It felt like coming home. Shortly afterwards she knew he had shared in what she had just felt.
'I love you so much,' she whispered.
'I don't want to leave you. I won't leave you, but you go to sleep.'
She heard him leave the room and two minutes later he came back carrying a pillow and a sheet. He lay on the floor by the side of her bed. He reached up and took her hand. And they both slept.
She was back at work on Monday, feeling just fine. There was a great backlog of work for her to do so she sat in her office and ploughed her way through: assessments to be made, essays to be marked and a spreadsheet for next year's programme to be compiled.
And she knew that Mike was busy too, so she told him that he was to stop thinking that he had to look after her. 'If I need you, I can bleep you. And I will. But for now you're not to worry about me.'
'I shall worry if I want. But it's not worry, it's concern—and love.'
'Whatever. Mike, life is better for me if I work.'
It was one of the rare occasions that she let her guard drop, let him know that underneath the tough exterior she had decided to adopt she was terrified. And he recognised her fear and showed her that he shared it.
'I guess it's better for me too. I... think about you a lot.'
They could still work together. She was showing two of her midwife students around the postnatal ward, chatting to the mothers, looking at—and admiring—the babies, pointing out to the trainees what they would have to look out for when they worked here.
Mike was on the ward with Maria Wyatt, one of the newly graduated midwives. He gave Jenny a casual wave and a wink. 'Come and say hello to Mrs Elkins,' he said, 'and bring your young ladies with you. Mrs Elkins would like a chat.'
Jenny recognised the signs. Most mothers were willing to let students observe or examine them; they recognised it as a necessary part of medical education. And there were some—Mrs Elkins?—who loved to be on display.
So she, Mike and the two students went to stand by the curtained bed while Maria made her escape. They were introduced to a beaming Mrs Elkins.
'It's me breasts,' she said. 'Do you want to see?' She pulled her nightie back from her shoulders.
'Mrs Elkins gave birth yesterday,' Mike said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. 'She has a slight temperature and complains that her breasts have swollen. They're hard and tender. Miss Carson, would you like to take over now?'
Jenny nodded. 'What are the possible causes?' she asked her two charges.
'Mastitis?' offered one.
'Certainly a possibility. How could you be sure it was mastitis?'
'There should be a reddened section of the breast,' said the other girl, 'and it should be even more tender.'
'Good. Can you find this reddened section?'
After a particularly careful scrutiny, no reddened section was found.
'What's another diagnosis?' Jenny asked.
'Simple breast engorgement. Wear a good maternity bra, bathe the breasts in warm water, lower liquid intake.'
'Excellent. Do we suppress lactation?'
'No.' The girl speaking smiled at Mrs Elkins and said, 'you do want to breastfeed, don't you? Did you have a little boy or a girl?'
'A little girl, Evie. And I was breastfed and she will be too.'
'I was guilty there,' Jenny said when she was talking afterwards to her two trainee midwives. 'Just for a moment I forgot that I was dealing with a person, not a medical condition. Your questions about breastfeeding and the name were very necessary. You made it personal. You both did well; you know your theory perfectly. More importantly, you know how to deal with people.' She grinned. 'Theory's fine. But it's different when you're faced with a real breast.'
It was Thursday evening and Jenny thought she could at last see an end to the paperwork she had to do. She had told people that working half-days didn't suit her, and from now on she would work full-time. And so now she was both tired and pleased.
'We're going somewhere different,' Mike told her when he picked her up at the end of the working day. 'Sue knows. She's going to wait tea for us.'
'Where are we going?'
'It's a little surprise. Life is more exciting if you get a surprise occasionally.'
You are telling me, she thought, but said nothing.
They drove back near her old flat, it gave her an odd thrill to pass it. Mike had been there quite regularly to fetch stuff for her, but she had not been there since her accident.
'You like it around here, don't you?' he asked.
'Very much so. I like being near the sea, I like being able to see it even if I have to stand on a stool.'
He laughed. 'Me too. So you'll like...'
He drove into the forecourt of a block of flats, a more expensive-looking block than the one she’d occupied. And a block that faced the sea. He parked, fetched her wheelchair from the back of his car and placed it by her door.
'You're on your own now,' he told her. 'I'm just going to tag along behind.' He dropped a set of keys into her lap. 'There's the front door.'
He wouldn't say any more, so she wheeled herself to the door he had indicated and managed to let herself in. Rather a more luxurious foyer than the one in her block. And there was a lift as well as stairs.
'Top floor,' said Mike.
So she wheeled herself into the lift, pressed the button for the top floor. There she left the lift. There were two doors opening off the landing.'
'That one,' said Mike.
'Mike, what is all this? It's nice to go visiting but I've had a hard day and I'm hungry.'
His expression was imperturbable. 'All will be revealed. You've got the key. Let yourself in.'
So she did, and wheeled herself into the living room. It was a pleasant room; some furniture, not too much. But that didn't make the room. What did were the windows. There were windows on two sides, one leading out onto a balcony. And from them both there was a fantastic view of the river. She moved forward, wanting to see what she could. A panoramic view, the channel of the river, lights from not too distant towns and the grey peaks of the Welsh hills. She could sit and look at this view for ever.
Mike saw her fascination and left her to gaze for a while. Then he said, 'See what you think of the other rooms.'
She could get into them all. There were two bedrooms, a further small room that could be used as a bedroom or a study.
'Like it?' he asked. 'Like to live here?'
'I'd love to live here, you know that. But I want to know what your interest is.'
He looked at her with the quizzical, assessing look she had seen before. 'I've leased this place for a year. At the end of that time I have the option to buy. The flat, not the furniture. I can move in as soon as I like. Harry will be back soon and, though I know the pair of them will be happy for both of us to stay as long as we like, I want a place of my own.'
'I think that's a good idea,' she said. She had no idea where this conversation was going.
'I've had a chat with the rehabilitation people— the ones who got you to exercise and so on. They say that even if you... you have to stay in the wheelchair for only six months, the sooner you learn to look after yourself the better. Like I said, Sue would have you for ever but I thought that...'
'I love living with Sue and Sam—and you, of course—but I do want to be independent,' she said. 'But there's no way I could afford somewhere like this. Though I'd like to.'
'I don't want to push you into anything. My suggestion is... I've leased this place. Your place has no lift, you can't live there. So why don't you move in with me?'
She hadn't expected that. At first the idea seemed very attractive. They would be living together. She would like that. But then... No. She had made up her mind that she wouldn't enter into any kind of long-term relationship with Mike until she was well. Then they could decide.
She shook her head. 'It's lovely of you to offer, Mike,' she said. 'But I just can't. I'd get used to being with you. I'd want to stay, whatever happened to me.'
'I want you to stay! When you're finally cured, when you can walk again...'
'Mike! The word you are looking for is if I can walk again.'
There was a silence. 'All right. If you can walk again. But the offer is the same. Jenny, after the accident you and everyone else told me not to feel guilty. So I didn't. But helping you in this way will make me feel better. I'll be giving something back.'
'Is that the only reason?'
'No. I want to do it because there's nothing I want to do in my life but help you. I want you to move in here.'
She wheeled herself to the window, gazed out at the river. She knew she could sit here, watch for ever.
'I just daren't do it,' she said. 'I'm sorry, Mike, but I won't move in with you.'
She knew he was upset but he tried to hide it.
'All right,' he said after a while. 'Then I've got another idea. You move in here. I'll move into your flat.'
'But my flat isn't worth anything like what this one must cost! You'd be...'
He held up his hand. 'Jenny! Don't even think about it! The last thing we two need is to argue about money. For us it just doesn't signify. I'm happy just swapping homes.' He grinned. 'Besides, I expect to be spending a lot of my time here.'
So she thought, and she realised that it wasn't a bad idea. But the thought of the extra money he was paying worried her.
'I'd want to give you something towards the lease here,' she said. 'There's no reason why—'
'Answer me one question, and be honest. If things were the other way round, if I'd been paralysed and you had leased this flat and offered it to me—would you ask or expect extra money from me?'
She thought. 'I suppose not,' she said reluctantly.
'Point made. I have your flat, you have this one.' He grinned. 'I'll even do some decorating for you.'
'No, you won't! I pick my own wallpaper. All right, we'll swap flats. But it's clearly understood. This arrangement is only until one month after Mr Spenser gives me the final verdict. Whatever the result. Right?'
'Right. I hope things will be different by then anyway.'
She wondered exactly what he meant by that.