THE NEEDLES OF hot water in his shower landed on skin that felt oddly raw.
As a young boy, Thomas Wolfe had been fascinated by arthropods—invertebrate creatures who had to shed their exoskeleton because it restricted growth—like grasshoppers and stick insects.
He felt like a human version.
The emotional shock of confronting the very real evidence that parts of his own daughter still existed had cracked the shell he’d been inside for years. Talking to Rebecca had painfully peeled more of that shell away. Being touched and touching with so much love had been the rebirth of the man who’d been hidden. The man he used to be.
Hermit crabs. They were another creature that could emerge from their old shell and start again and he’d definitely been a hermit in an emotional sense.
Was that part of his life over?
Could he start again, with Rebecca by his side?
How miraculous would that be?
The way the water stung was a warning to be careful, however, not to rush anything. Arthropods were at their most vulnerable when newly emerged. He was sure he remembered a statistic that moulting was responsible for something like eighty to ninety per cent of arthropod deaths. They needed time for their new shells to harden.
He needed time, too.
Arriving at Paddington’s for the start of the new working week made things feel more normal and boosted his confidence.
There was no need to rush anything. Safety—for both himself and Rebecca—was paramount.
There was a television crew in the area near the main reception desk. Annette, one of the senior members of the team that staffed the desk, waved at Thomas.
‘Dr Wolfe? I was just telling these visitors that you’re just the person who might be able to answer this query.’
‘What’s that?’ Thomas frowned, trying to remember where he’d seen the perfectly groomed blonde woman who was smiling as he approached. Oh, yes...she’d been the person interviewing Rebecca at the Teddy Bears’ Picnic yesterday.
Good grief! With all that had happened since, it felt like a very long time ago.
‘I’m Angela Marton,’ she introduced herself. ‘We’re hoping to film a feature on a child that’s waiting for a transplant. There was such an overwhelmingly positive response to our coverage from the picnic yesterday. We thought a more in-depth story would help raise awareness of the need for donors. And Paddington’s needs all the good publicity it can get at the moment, doesn’t it?’
‘I can’t give permission for something like that,’ Thomas said. ‘You’ll have to speak to our CEO—Dr Bradley—about that.’
‘Where is it that you work?’
‘I’m in Cardiology.’
‘Oh...’ Angela’s eyes lit up. ‘You don’t happen to have someone waiting for a heart transplant, do you? A family who might be prepared to share their story?’
‘I’m afraid our patient information is completely confidential.’
‘Mmm... Of course it is. I totally respect that.’
The look in her eyes suggested otherwise. People were always keen to talk if it gave them a moment of fame, weren’t they? Penelope Craig was well-known around Paddington’s. Who knew whether an orderly or clerk or even a kitchen hand had overheard things that they could share?
The need to protect Penny and her family from a possibly unwelcome intrusion in their lives made Thomas excuse himself. Hopefully, they could send Penny home today and he wouldn’t feel so responsible if their privacy was invaded. His pager sounded at the same time, which added weight to his comment that he was needed elsewhere.
The pager message was to find a phone to accept an external phone call from Dr Rebecca Scott. Thomas felt a beat of excitement as Annette handed him a phone he could use. He couldn’t wait to hear Rebecca’s voice. He wanted to see her again, in fact—the sooner, the better.
It was more than hope that this new beginning was going to take them back to where they’d once been.
In love.
Married.
With a shared dream of a future together...
It was the strength of the wanting that made him so aware of how soft this new shell of his still was.
To want something this much and not achieve it had the potential to destroy him all over again. And there would be no coming back from going through that a second time.
He distracted himself from that fear by focusing on a much more mundane detail. It was high time they had each other’s mobile numbers, wasn’t it? Using a formal contact process like this was not appropriate for anything personal.
Except it wasn’t anything personal that Rebecca wanted to talk to him about.
‘I’m just on my way into work,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a call from the parents of a little boy that was declared brain-dead a few days ago and they’ve agreed to let him become a donor. I’ll get onto the matching processes as soon as I get in. It’s just possible that he could be a match for Penny so I thought I’d better give you a heads-up. It would be a shame to discharge her and then bring her straight back in.’
Thomas eyed Angela and her crew, who were now standing near an elevator looking for directions towards Dr Bradley’s office. He lowered his voice, anyway.
‘How far away is the donor? Will you have to travel for the retrieval?’
‘No.’ Rebecca’s voice was quiet. ‘He’s in our own intensive care unit.’
‘Oh...’ Thomas blinked, taken aback. He remembered a snatch of conversation he’d overheard that night at the Frog and Peach, when Rebecca had been talking to Alistair North. He didn’t want to know any more, though—like the name or age of this boy. In fact, hadn’t he heard something not so long ago? About one of the children who’d been injured so badly in the school fire?
He didn’t allow any additional information of who it might be to surface because it felt too close to home. Too personal. Keeping things as anonymous as possible was the sensible way to handle this.
‘Fine,’ he said then. ‘Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep things on hold until we know more and then I can either discharge her or initiate the final work-up.’
‘Cool, thanks. I’ll let you know as soon as possible.’
‘Great. And, Becca...?’
Her tone changed, becoming suddenly softer and warmer. He could imagine her lips curving into a private smile. ‘Yes?’
‘Thanks for last night. For...everything.’
There was a moment’s silence. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ Rebecca said, and it sounded like a promise. ‘And, Tom?’
‘Yes?’
‘Maybe you can give me your mobile number?’
His mouth curled into a smile of his own. ‘I’ve got your number from this call. I’ll text you mine.’
* * *
Penelope was wearing her pink tutu skirt. She also had a diamante, princess tiara on the top of her head. She was sitting, cross-legged, on the covers of her bed, her eyes glued to the latest adventures of the Ballerina Bears. Her toys and games and art supplies were all packed into suitcases in a corner of the room but her parents didn’t look happy about any of it.
They looked totally stunned.
‘But...’ Julia’s bottom lip trembled. ‘But we were going to take her home today. That’s why she’s wearing her crown. She’s going to be a princess for the day and we’ve got her carriage waiting. And she’s looking so well...’
Peter took hold of her hand. ‘But this is what we’ve been waiting for, hon. This could mean years and years of her being well.’ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, shifting his gaze from his wife to the two doctors in front of them.
‘Are you sure? This is an exact match?’
‘As close as we could hope for.’ Rebecca smiled. ‘We need to do another blood test on Penny. It’s the final comparison of the donor’s blood cells and Penny’s blood serum to make sure that she hasn’t created any new antibodies that might attack the donated organ. It’s very unlikely, but we need to check.’
‘And if it’s okay?’ Julia’s eyes were wide and terrified. ‘When...?’
‘The sooner, the better,’ Thomas said. ‘We’ve got a hold on a theatre for about two this afternoon.’
Julia’s head swivelled to look at her daughter. Penny didn’t notice because she was staring at her hands, trying to follow the direction her beloved bears were giving each other.
‘You use your thumb and your middle finger,’ Sapphire was telling her friends. ‘Like you’re holding a tiny magic stone...’
Julia tried to hold back her tears. It was her loud sniff that attracted Penny’s attention.
‘What’s the matter, Mummy?’
‘Nothing, darling. I’m...happy, that’s all.’
‘Because we’re going home?’
Thomas smiled. ‘What is it that you want most of all, Penny?’
‘To be a ballerina.’ The little girl’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
‘And what is it that you need so that you can be a ballerina?’
‘A new heart.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact. As if it was a solution as simple as getting a new pair of shoes.
It was Peter who went close enough to the bed to stroke Penny’s head. ‘What would you say if we told you that you might be able to get that new heart today?’
Penny shook her head. ‘But we’re going home, today, Daddy. Can we do it tomorrow?’
Then she looked slowly around the room and the television programme was forgotten as the magnitude of what was going on around her sank in. The smile everybody associated with this brave little girl wobbled and her voice was very small.
‘Do I have to have another operation?’
‘Just one.’ Rebecca sat on the chair beside Penny’s bed and took a small hand in hers. ‘And then we hope there won’t be any more. Maybe ever...’
‘And the new heart will make me better?’
Rebecca nodded and smiled. ‘That’s the plan, sweetheart.’
‘And I can go back to school?’
‘Yes.’
‘And I can have ballet lessons?’
‘Yes.’ It was Julia who answered this time. ‘Of course you can.’
Thomas watched the look that passed between Penny’s parents as they gripped each other’s hands. He could see the mix of fear and hope and he could feel it himself. The protective shield he’d kept between himself and his patients and their families just didn’t seem to be there any more.
He looked back at Penny, who was smiling at Rebecca now.
‘Okay, I guess it’s okay if I don’t go home today.’
And then Thomas let his gaze rest on Rebecca’s face. That smile that he loved so much. That look she was giving Penny that told the little girl she was the most important person in the world right now. He could feel her determination that she was going to give Penny and her family what they wanted so desperately.
And he could feel his own love for Rebecca that was a big part of the emotional mix in this room. He wanted a successful outcome as much as anybody else here.
He could feel everything with such clarity, it was painful.
Because of his new, soft shell?
He’d forgotten what this felt like. Hope. The anticipation of something so joyful, it made the world look like a different place.
A much better place than he’d been living in for such a long time.
There was nothing more for him to do here. Penelope Craig was Rebecca’s patient now, and would be until she was discharged with her new heart to return to the care of her cardiologist. He wanted to be there, though. He wanted to be in the gallery to watch the surgery. To let Rebecca know that she had his complete support and to meet her gaze if she chose to look up and seek encouragement. The way he had when the first surgery had been done on this very child.
How appropriate would it be for him to be there again, now, in what could be the definitive surgery that could give her many years of life? That he could celebrate their new connection by repeating history and letting her know that he believed in her.
That he—once again—believed in them?
He also wanted to be by her side when she went to tell Julia and Peter how well it had all gone.
It would be a long surgery. He needed to clear everything else on his agenda today to put the time aside.
* * *
The urgent call to the intensive care unit came shortly after the message from Rebecca that said the green light had been given to the suitability of the donor heart and its intended recipient. Penelope Craig was now in the final stages of her pre-theatre preparation.
The patient Thomas had been called to see was a six-month-old baby who’d been admitted and rushed to intensive care in a life-threatening condition. He arrived to see an alarmingly fast trace on the ECG monitor and a baby with a bulging fontanelle who was struggling to breathe and going blue. The baby’s terrified mother was standing to one side with a nurse.
‘Oxygen saturation is improving with the nasal cannula,’ he was told. ‘Up from eighty-four per cent on room air.’
Thomas looked at the ECG printout he was handed. ‘Looks like a supraventricular tachycardia. Other vitals?’
‘Respiratory rate of sixty-five, blood pressure is eighty on fifty and she’s febrile at thirty-nine point four degrees.’
‘Deep tendon reflexes?’
‘Brisk.’
‘We could be looking at meningoencephalitis, then. Or meningitis.’
‘A spinal tap is next on our list. But we need to get this tachycardia under control.’
‘I agree.’ The heart rate was far too rapid to be allowing enough oxygen to circulate and it was a very unstable situation. Thomas had his fingers on the baby’s arm. ‘I’ve got a palpable peripheral pulse. Let’s try some IV adenosine with a two-syringe rapid push. If that doesn’t help, we’ll go for a synchronised cardioversion.’
The drug therapy was enough to slow the heart rate to an acceptable level. Thomas stayed with the baby a little longer, as treatment to bring down her fever and improve oxygen levels was started. He wrote up lab forms to check electrolyte levels that could well need correction to prevent further disruptions to the heart rhythm.
And then he left, after a glance at his watch told him that Penny would be heading for the operating theatre within an hour or so. So would the donor of her heart. They would be in side-by-side theatres. Other theatres may also have been cleared and there could very well be a retrieval team from another transplant centre waiting to rush precious organs to other children in desperate need.
It was no real surprise, then, to see Rebecca up here.
What shocked him was that she had her arm around another woman who was sobbing quietly, her head on Rebecca’s shoulder.
A chill ran down his spine at the realisation that this had to be the mother of the donor child.
He had to walk past them. Despite every ounce of willpower he could summon, Thomas couldn’t prevent his head turning. The door to the room was open. His glance only grazed the scene within but it was instantly seared into his memory bank.
A small boy, so still on the bed, his head bandaged and a hand lying, palm upwards as though it had just been released from being held.
His father sitting beside him, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking.
Rebecca didn’t even see him going past, she was so focused on the woman beside her.
‘There’s still time,’ he heard her murmur. ‘Go and be with Ryan. And with Peter. He needs you. You need each other...’
The chill didn’t stop when it reached the end of Thomas’s spine. It seemed to be spreading to every cell in his body.
He was that father.
He could feel the utter desolation of knowing that, very soon, the final goodbye would have to happen. That they would walk beside the bed that their child was lying on until they got as close as they were allowed to Theatre. That they were about to lose even the appearance of life that the intensive care technology could provide.
He could feel his world crumbling around him all over again.
And Rebecca’s words unleashed another cascade of terrible memories.
You need each other...
He hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him. Not in any meaningful way. He’d started to pull himself into his shell from the moment they’d taken Gwen further along that corridor that led to the operating theatre and he’d just made himself more and more unavailable.
Not because he’d wanted to. Hurting the woman he loved so much was the last thing he would have ever chosen to do. He just hadn’t been able to survive any other way.
And who was to say he wouldn’t do it again?
Even now, as he walked away from the paediatric intensive care unit, Thomas could feel himself frantically looking for some mental building materials, desperate to try and resurrect at least enough of a barrier to protect himself from this wash of unbearable emotion that seeing the donor’s family had induced.
No, it wasn’t just an anonymous donor any more.
His name was Ryan, and Thomas clearly remembered having heard the story. He was the little boy who’d gone to school, just like he would have on any other ordinary day. But the unthinkable had happened and he’d been badly injured in that fire at his school.
And he had parents who loved him as much as he and Rebecca had loved their little Gwen.
Thomas took the stairs. He couldn’t stand next to anyone waiting for an elevator right now, let alone have the doors slide shut to confine him.
He needed space. A private place to somehow deal with this onslaught of memories that had been buried so deeply he’d thought he was safe from feeling like this again. So he headed up the stairs, instead of down. All the way to the top of the building and through the door that led to the helipad. Empty at the moment, with nothing more than the most amazing view of central London on display. He walked to the furthest corner he could find and stood there, staring at familiar landmarks.
Like the green spaces of the parks and the bump of Primrose Hill where he’d held Rebecca in his arms for the first time since they’d parted and this whole cascade of reconnection had begun. He could see the rooftop and signage of the Frog and Peach over the road where he’d danced with her that night. He could even make out the wrought-iron fences further along the road that marked the spot where he’d kissed her.
He couldn’t do it, he realised.
He couldn’t allow even a possibility of hurting Rebecca all over again.
Going to the Teddy Bears’ Picnic yesterday had been a mistake but it paled in comparison to what had happened between them last night.
It couldn’t happen again.
He wasn’t going to allow Rebecca to risk her future happiness by being with him. He was the one who couldn’t handle these memories.
He was the one who was really stuck. So he was the one who had to set her free to find a new future.
With someone else.
But how—and when—could he tell her that?
Maybe very soon, he thought as his mobile phone began to ring and he saw the name ‘Becca’ on the screen.
He swiped to answer the call but he didn’t get time for any kind of greeting.
‘Tom? Where are you?’ Rebecca sounded alarmed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Penny... She’s gone missing...’