‘COME on, I’m taking you home.’
Maggie looked up from the computer and pushed her fingers through her hair. Her earlier high, when she and Annie had arranged for an ‘angel’ to help out at the Barrons’, had disappeared, mainly because her search for something similar to what had happened today had proved fruitless. All she’d found out was that peering at the screen for an hour gave her a pain in the neck.
‘I don’t know!’ she complained to Phil. ‘Computers are good, but they can also lead you on endless wild-goose chases. I’d pick up something in search results that sounded similar and follow it through, only to find it was a different matter entirely—fibrillation in octogenarian patients or fibrillation as a result of metabolic disturbance.’
He’d come closer and rested his hand on her shoulder as he, too, peered at the screen. Any of their colleagues would have done the same thing, but only Phil’s touch warmed her skin and eased the stiffness in her neck.
Until she realised why he was so interested in the information on the computer—not fibrillation at all. Frustrated at not finding anything similar to what had happened with Gemma, Maggie had run a quick search on personal medical matters, and although the search engine hadn’t delivered any results when Phil had first walked in, they were all up on the screen now—page one of one hundred and eighty-four—all concerning spontaneous abortion in the first trimester of a pregnancy.
Phil’s grip tightened on her shoulder and he crouched beside her.
‘You haven’t lost the baby, have you? Today? You shouldn’t be here. Why didn’t you say something?’
He was so pale and seemed so upset Maggie stopped any further speculation by putting her hand across his mouth.
‘I haven’t lost the baby,’ she told him, then hesitated, took a deep breath and added, ‘but I might. That’s why I really didn’t want to say anything, Phil. To you or to anyone else. Back when I was still a student, I was married. Jack was my first boyfriend—we’d been together at school, then at uni, we got married, I got pregnant…’
‘You lost the baby?’ Phil guessed, hoping he sounded OK when in reality his mind and body were coping with some strange reactions to the news Maggie had once been married.
Surely that hot, tight sensation in his gut couldn’t be jealousy!
And coming on top of the shock discovery—however wrong—that she’d lost the baby, it was almost too much to cope with right now!
He decided to ignore all the internal commotion going on and concentrate on what she was telling him.
‘That one and the next. But by the time I lost the second one I wasn’t married any more, and I was also determined to get back on track with my career, so I didn’t do anything about investigating why it had happened.’
She hesitated and Phil could read the fear lurking in her dark eyes, and again experienced a physical tightening of his gut—though this time for Maggie, for how she must be feeling.
‘Now I wish I had,’ she whispered. ‘Wish I’d found out if there was some reason why I miscarried twice. Wish I knew if it was likely to happen again…’
Phil eased up from his crouched position and put his arms around her, drawing her to her feet so he could hold her properly and offering her the warmth and comfort of his body.
But while physically he was offering comfort, mentally he was nearly as upset as she was. They might lose this baby? That would be bad enough, but with no baby there’d be no reason for Maggie to marry him, and that thought bothered him more than the losing-the-baby possibility.
So, they’d better not lose the baby.
‘Did you find anything? On the computer?’
Maggie obviously understood what he meant, for she pushed away from him.
‘You saw the screen—the results have just come up. I hadn’t looked at anything, let alone found anything.’
Phil heard the strain in her voice and pulled her close again, thinking now of practical matters.
‘About a million hours ago, we were on our way to the canteen for dinner. Did you ever eat?’
She shook her head against his chest.
‘I got over being hungry.’
‘Me, too, but that’s not good for either of us. Let’s close this computer down, order something nutritious and delicious to be delivered, and go home. By the time we get there, the food will be on its way. We’ll eat then go to bed. We can do a search tomorrow.’
He tilted her chin so he could look into her eyes.
‘We could even consult an obstetrician—there’s sure to be a couple somewhere around the hospital. But for now let’s go home.’
‘Now you’re saying the word,’ she said, to hide the melting sensation in her bones his ‘let’s go home’ had caused.
He smiled.
‘Home? I guess I am—and do you know what, Mags? It feels like home. Or it does when we’re not at odds with each other.’
He brushed his lips against her forehead and crossed to Annie’s desk, where a list of all the local restaurants that delivered food was taped on the outside of the hospital phone directory.
‘Italian?’
Maggie nodded. She was still absorbing what he’d said about their house feeling like a home and telling herself not to get too excited about it. He’d already told her he could feel ‘at home’ wherever he was working.
‘Delivery in three-quarters of an hour. That will give us time to pop in on Pete before we leave—if you don’t mind.’
They walked briskly through to the PICU, and Phil, rather than disturb the sleeping boy, or his mother who was dozing in the big chair by the bed, stopped at the desk and checked the monitor to see how his charge was doing.
‘Temp’s down, oxygen sats up, more fluid building in his abdomen, but we’ll drain some more off during the night if it affects either his heart or his lungs,’ the intensivist who’d joined Phil at the desk said.
They were turning away when Mrs Barron came out.
‘Oh, Dr Walsh, I wanted to thank you again for the angel. I visited Joe and he was conscious but worrying, and as soon as I told him about the angel, the nurse said all his readings got better.’
She gave Maggie a hug, sniffed back a tear and beamed at Phil.
‘This is some woman you’ve got yourself,’ she said, then she returned to continue her vigil by her son’s bed.
‘Angel?’ Phil queried as they went down in the lift.
‘Annie and I arranged some home help for Mrs Barron, so she’s not worrying herself to death about the family at home while she’s visiting the hospital.’
‘Most places I’ve worked, it could take weeks to organise home help. Unless, of course, you’ve got the wherewithal to pay for it, which I doubt is the case for the Barrons.’
‘There are ways and means,’ Maggie told him, not wanting to get into those particular ways and means.
‘What ways and means?’
So much for not wanting to get into it.
‘Annie and I are “locals”—well, she’s a local and I’m from Melbourne, but it’s the same country and a number of the same organisations exist in all the states.’
‘You’re waffling!’
They’d reached the hospital exit and Maggie stopped to pull on a jacket, Phil once again taking it from her hands and holding it for her to put on.
He couldn’t resist the urge to hug her, once again wrapping his arms around her bulky, jacketed figure and drawing her close to his body. Then he freed her and in case she thought he’d lost the track of the conversation, he gave it a nudge.
‘Ways and means?’
‘I know this charitable trust that does small things like pay for home help in emergency situations. Annie found the helper and I’m arranging the finance for it. That’s all.’
He was sure it wasn’t all, but she wouldn’t tell him more—not until she was ready. She was as stubborn as she was persistent, his Mags.
His Mags? Now, where had that come from?
The food arrived soon after they got home, and they sat together in the kitchen, eating what was now a very late dinner.
‘I was hungrier than I realised,’ Maggie said, tucking into a bowl of pasta with a chicken and pesto sauce, taking a break occasionally to help herself to some salad as well.
‘Eating for two,’ Phil teased, then regretted it when he saw the fear in her eyes. Fear for this baby, or remembered fear?
A different fear clutched at Phil’s heart. Annie, they now knew, had lived in fear of an abusive husband, and with reason as the man had found and shot her, luckily only wounding her. Was this Maggie’s fear as well?
‘What happened, Maggie, that you weren’t married any more when you had the second miscarriage?’
She looked surprised, then frowned and toyed with her fork, twirling it in the bowl.
‘We’d known each other for ever, it seemed,’ she said quietly. ‘At school and then at uni—Jack doing engineering, me medicine. He wasn’t well and we put it down to exhaustion. He was working part time as well—we both were—so he didn’t see a doctor soon enough. He had leukaemia, acute, the prognosis terrible because it had been discovered too late. What he wanted most was to leave something behind. Something of himself—a child to go on living for him. We got married and I fell pregnant before he began radiation treatment, and just to be safe we also had some sperm frozen so if anything happened with the first pregnancy I could have another go.’
‘And you miscarried twice!’
Phil took her hand and held it, his heart aching with pity for the young student she had been.
‘He died?’
Maggie nodded.
‘He died before he knew I’d lost the second baby. That was the only good thing—the timing of the loss. He died thinking the baby was OK and he’d live on in his son.’
She raised her head and offered a watery smile to Phil.
‘Silly man—he was so sure it would be a son!’
‘And you didn’t try again. Didn’t want to, later on?’
Maggie shook her head.
‘I can’t make myself believe that dead people know what’s happening back on earth. I like the idea of a heaven, but I’m a doctor. I believe people live on in the memories of those who loved them, and in the people whose lives were touched by them, or are still touched in some way. Jack lives on that way.’
‘Jack still touches people’s lives?’
Maggie’s face cleared of the grief he’d seen wash across it.
‘He does,’ she said simply, then she smiled at Phil. ‘He’s the charitable institution I talked about earlier. The one that will pay for the Barrons’ angel. Jack’s Way, it’s called, because he always believed you should show people how you feel about them in a practical way.’
She hesitated but Phil wanted—needed?—to know more.
‘Go on,’ he encouraged, and won another smile, this one slightly embarrassed.
‘It’s funny to think how young we were!’ Maggie said softly, still smiling.
Then she looked into Phil’s eyes.
‘When we were students, first and second year, we spent so much time sitting around talking, nearly always putting the world to rights. Were you the same? I imagine most young people are. Anyway, Jack maintained you should do what you can to help others who were trying to help themselves. Helping themselves was the important part. People who didn’t try—who just took whatever they could get from government agencies or charities—infuriated Jack, but real battlers, well, he always had time for them.’
‘So Jack’s Way helps out battlers?’ Phil prompted. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more about this obviously saintly husband, but at the same time he was learning more about Maggie than he ever had before. ‘Do you fundraise? How did you set it up?’
Maggie ate another piece of chicken then pushed her bowl away.
‘He had a huge life insurance policy. Neither of us knew that, but his father had taken it out when Jack was young, thinking he could eventually cash it in when he wanted to buy a house. The last thing anyone expected was that a young healthy man would die.’
She paused and Phil waited.
‘I didn’t want the money,’ she added in a small voice, ‘so, with some friends, we founded Jack’s Way and now every year the university students’ union puts money into it as well, so we don’t ever have to touch the principal but can use interest and donations to fund things like some help for the Barrons. We tend to do the small stuff that big agencies don’t handle—things that don’t cost much but, because we can put help in place immediately, can make a tremendous difference for families in times of crisis.’
Phil shook his head.
‘What else have you done?’
Radiance shone through her smile this time.
‘We’ve done the most amazing things, but they’re simple things really. Flying a woman to South America after her daughter was injured in a car accident, bringing a grandmother out from England to take care of a suddenly orphaned family, paying for a young boy who’d lost his legs to go to the US for special prosthetics. We don’t publicise the donations or help we give, but the larger agencies know about us, and hospitals in Melbourne are aware we exist, so somehow people in need seem to find us. It’s confidential, the help we give—no, anonymous is probably a better word. I’ve only talked to you about it because of the Barrons.’
‘And because you wanted to think about something other than miscarriages?’ Phil said, reaching out to take her hand. ‘Come on, it’s very late. Let’s go to bed. My bed, so I can hold and comfort you. It’s way too late for anything but sleep. OK?’
Maggie looked at him, aware that the relationship between them had shifted into a different dimension.
Whether for better or worse, she wasn’t sure, but she knew with the ghosts she’d raised this evening still floating around her head, her own bed would have been a very sad and lonely place.
But…
‘Phil, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Going to bed with you—continuing a physical relationship…’ She paused and even managed a smile. ‘And don’t tell me we wouldn’t get physical no matter how late it is. It’s just going to make things harder in the end.’
‘In what end?’ he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
‘In the end when we say that it’s over.’
‘But why need it be over? Why will this end come? We’re good together, Mags, and be positive—we’ll have the baby. And more babies to keep the little scrap company—that’s if you want more babies—’
Maggie held up her hand to stop him talking before he dug himself into more trouble. She knew she’d reached the stage where only the truth would do, but she was so used to keeping all her feelings bottled up inside her she found it hard to put them into words.
‘Being good together isn’t enough for me, Phil. I married once for convenience. Oh, I loved Jack dearly and would have done anything for him—marrying him was no sacrifice. But if I marry again, it has to be for love. Not because I’m pregnant.’
She looked into the blue eyes of the man who’d sneaked in under her guard and stolen her heart, and saw confusion and more than a little pain. Standing up, she moved around the table and bent to kiss him on the cheek.
‘I love you, Phil, but one-sided love’s a desperate, lonely place to be. Let’s wait and see about the baby, then make arrangements when and if we need to.’
It was as good an exit line as any, she thought as she walked out of the kitchen, her unfinished meal still on the table.
It was Phil’s job to clear away and stack the dishwasher anyway, she told herself, as she dragged her weary body up the bed.
And you will not cry, she added silently. Not tonight and not any night. Your hormones aren’t in that much of a mess.
But waking in the morning, she found her pillow strangely damp and realised her willpower hadn’t worked while she’d slept.
The house was empty, a note from Phil saying he’d gone to work early tucked under the vase of flowers she’d never thanked him for.
Phil found her in the small lounge off the theatre, writing up notes on the operation they’d completed earlier. She hadn’t heard him come in, and he watched her for a few seconds, the words she’d said last night echoing in his head.
He’d thought of Maggie as self-contained—right from when he’d first met her—but was that self-containment a cover for the lonely place she spoke of? Had she loved someone else who hadn’t loved her? Someone after Jack?
Or was he, Phil, the one who’d sent her into exile there?
She’d said she loved him but there’d been despair in her words, and it had been that despair that had haunted him throughout the night.
Oh, she’d mentioned love earlier—even, if he remembered rightly, asked if he could offer it to her. But he’d brushed it aside, thinking love was connected with his dream—thinking about his version of what love might be, not what he might gain from giving it.
But if he said that now, told her he loved her as Maggie and she was more important to him than any childhood dream, would she believe it?
Probably not! He was finding it hard to believe himself—this tumultuous shift in his emotions.
So rather than rush into action as he had already—engagement announcements and flowers, to name but two incidents—he had better make sure he explained what he was feeling in a very convincing manner.
And at an appropriate time…
Which wasn’t right now.
He moved towards her, speaking quietly.
‘I’ve made an appointment for us to see the obstetrician at four. He has rooms on the sixth floor—six-four-seven.’
She looked up and frowned, as if trying to place him, then she shook her head.
‘You know once a woman’s pregnant it’s too late to do any tests to find out why she might have miscarried previously? All an obstetrician will say is wait and see.’
‘But between eight and twelve weeks you can have a scan to date the baby’s birth—I was reading up on it last night. They do a measurement called CRL—crown-rump length—and from a scale can tell exactly when it’s due. Great, isn’t it?’
He’d been fascinated by the things he’d learnt but Maggie didn’t seem to be sharing his fascination. In fact, her frown seemed to have grown deeper.
‘I’m not having a scan,’ she said firmly.
‘But—’
‘No, Phil, I’m not! Neither am I seeing an obstetrician—not yet.’
She sighed, then closed the book she had beside the file on the coffee-table.
‘Look, I may not have sought medical advice about why I’d miscarried twice or had tests done, but I was a med student, for heaven’s sake. I did look into it. If you want facts and figures, twenty per cent of pregnant women miscarry—that’s one in five—most too early to recognise it as a miscarriage. Usually it’s because of a foetal abnormality but occasionally it’s a physical problem. The woman has an infection, there are environmental factors like smoking and drinking or even stress, which I was certainly suffering at the time. Then there are endocrine disorders.’
She sighed.
‘The list goes on, Phil, but without knowing the exact cause, the best obstetrician in the world wouldn’t be able to do anything right now.’
Maggie watched him, hoping this was sinking in—hoping mostly that he’d just walk away.
But hope didn’t seem to be on her side right now. He came closer to sit on the couch beside her.
‘I understand all of that, but why no obstetrician appointment? Why no scan?’
She turned to face him, then turned away again, her hand moving to protect her stomach. Then dipped her head so he wouldn’t read the pain she felt in her face.
‘Because having it confirmed—worse, seeing it on a scan—would make the baby so much more real. I’m sorry, but, knowing I might lose it, I can handle things—just—the way they are. But if I see its shape—at eight weeks it’s got a face, Phil, the beginning of features, even a chin—no, I don’t want to know this baby that intimately, thank you.’
The final words croaked out past all the emotional turmoil in her chest, but she got them said. Whether Phil understood or not, she didn’t know and tried not to care.
But she did care, wanting his understanding nearly as much as she longed for his love.
Surely understanding wasn’t too much to ask for…
‘Ah, glad to find the two of you together. We’re in strife—we as in the unit—and Alex wants to talk to the whole team in the rooms a.s.a.p.’
Had Annie, standing in the doorway, heard their conversation? She looked concerned but she would be, if the continuation of the unit was at risk.
‘We’ll be right with you.’
Phil answered for both of them, but though Maggie rose immediately to her feet he was slower, taking his time, waiting until Annie had departed then pulling Maggie into his arms and holding her close.
‘It’s your call, Mags,’ he said softly. ‘Whatever you want. Whatever it’s in my power to give you. I mean that.’
She held him close for a moment, then pushed away, looking up into his face.
‘Except love,’ she reminded him.
And it was too late for him to tell her.
Love was forgotten as they joined the team, propped against desks in the suite of rooms, no one sitting down, which seemed strange. Until they learned of a medical negligence case being brought against the hospital following the death of Dr Ellis’s patient.
Bad news apparently required you to be upright when you heard it!
‘Are we mentioned specifically in the charge? Me? The unit?’ Phil asked.
Alex shook his head.
‘The charge is against the hospital but although it could take years to get to court, the hospital is taking it seriously and moving towards palliative—if that’s the word in law as well as medicine—measures now.’
‘Like blaming us and closing the unit?’
Rachel asked the question in all their minds.
‘Something like that,’ Annie explained. ‘That way, when the case comes to court, or if they decide to go to mediation, the hospital can say, well, the problem was within this trial unit we’d set up, and we’ve now disbanded it so it won’t happen again. A copout.’
‘But the hospital would still have to pay if negligence is proved,’ Maggie put in.
‘The hospital has insurance, we all have insurance, it’s only the insurance companies who pay,’ Rachel said.
‘Yes, they’ll make the actual pay-out—part with the money—but they’re also the ones who’ll look for someone else to blame,’ Kurt told her. ‘The hospital’s insurance company will come gunning for the unit, or for the insurance company that provides cover for the unit members.’
‘But they have to prove negligence,’ Annie said. ‘Maybe we’re getting all worked up over nothing.’
‘They can’t and won’t prove negligence against us,’ Alex said grimly. ‘Phil made the absolutely correct decision, but don’t tell me the administrators wouldn’t prefer us as the scapegoat rather than Dr Ellis. After all, they’ll figure most of the current unit staff will be gone before the case comes to court. Other hospital interests have already been clamouring to have both our funding and our theatre. They can offer a sop to the complainant’s solicitors and placate their own departments all at once.’
‘But if they use us as a scapegoat it will tarnish your and Phil’s reputations. Phil’s specifically,’ Kurt pointed out. ‘There’s no way we can accept some kind of compromise or be shuffled quietly off into the sunset to give them something to offer to the other side’s solicitors.’
‘I could leave.’
Maggie knew she wasn’t the only one who’d been struck dumb by Phil’s pronouncement, but she was probably the only one whose heart stopped beating.
‘Nonsense!’
Annie put everyone’s feelings into one succinct word, but Phil held up his hand before anyone else could object.
‘No, listen to me. It’s the only sensible solution. If I get out, the team’s reputation remains untarnished.’
‘But yours…’
Rachel moved to stand beside him, unable to put her argument into words but wanting to show support.
‘There’s no way I’d allow that,’ Alex said, also moving a little closer to his friend and colleague.
Maggie watched and wondered if any of them had noticed their physical reactions—if they were aware of moving closer to Phil.
She was by his side anyway, but had never felt further away. She had no idea what to say or do, but her heart, which had resumed beating, now ached with a weary kind of confusion. Was it because she was standing next to Phil that she sensed the pain his words had caused him? Or was it because she loved him and love had unconsciously discovered all the little nuances in his voice, and speech, and movements?
‘You wouldn’t have to allow it, Alex,’ Phil said quietly. ‘I’d resign.’
‘You’re not through your fellowship,’ Alex said, angry now. ‘And you’d be letting me down—and the whole team. We are a team, remember, and we stick together.’
‘Scott can take my place. He’s not had the experience, but he’s going to be very good. Possibly better than me. For difficult cases, you can always get someone over from Children’s. It’s the way things were done here before—a paeds cardiac surgeon from over there, helping one of the adult surgeons from here.’
‘But you can’t leave with a cloud over your head,’ Annie protested. ‘It will ruin your whole future, and it’s such a bright future, Phil.’
‘Is it?’ he said, then, after touching Maggie lightly on the hand, he turned and left the room.
Maggie knew the rest of the team was looking at her, waiting for her to follow him—talk some sense into him—but her legs wouldn’t have carried her anywhere and, as she felt her knees give way, she sank down onto the nearest chair.
Talk broke out around her, but she barely heard it, wondering what had pushed Phil to take this stance. Then she heard Alex calling for quiet.
‘Are we all agreed we’ll fight this business as a team and not let Phil accept the role of scapegoat?’
Loud noises of agreement.
‘And that we’ll fight whatever the hospital administrators want to throw at us?’
More agreement.
‘Good,’ Alex said. ‘That’s decided. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find my fellow and beat some sense into his stupid head.’
He glanced Maggie’s way but she shrugged away the unasked question. She was too confused herself to be able to offer any advice whatsoever.
‘OK, let’s get out of this place. How about the Thai restaurant down the road? We can get that big table in the alcove and have some privacy to talk this through.’
Maggie was surprised to hear Kurt organising things, but Rachel, Ned, Scott and the theatre and nursing staff present all seemed content to follow his lead.
‘I’ve work to finish here,’ Annie said, ‘but you lot go ahead.’
‘I’ll stay and help you,’ Maggie told her, knowing she couldn’t sit through a meal where Phil’s position was being discussed.
‘Do you know why he offered to resign?’ Annie asked, when the others had departed.
‘Because he’s Phil!’ Maggie said. ‘There’s a lot of old-fashioned gallantry, and “doing the right thing” in our Phil. He felt by sacrificing himself he’d save the unit.’
She sighed.
‘He’s been upset about that baby since it happened. Upset about all the babies that die. Maybe he’s just had enough.’
But she knew it wasn’t true. Losing a baby—a child—would only make Phil work harder to save the next one, make him learn more, try something different, test out the widest parameters—anything to save a child.
To save having one more baby crying in his head…
‘He needs a break,’ Annie said. ‘Alex was saying as much the other day. Phil carried on when Alex was distracted by me being in hospital, then we had our honeymoon, but Phil hasn’t had a holiday in over a year. The work’s too emotionally fraught for them to just keep going.’
She was talking sense, but Maggie knew she was also waiting for a contribution from the woman who was supposedly engaged to Phil—herself. But she had nothing to contribute. She loved him, and knew more about him now than she had when they’d moved in together—knew things about him she doubted many people knew. But most of what went on in his head was a complete mystery.
There were no lights on at Maggie’s place when she and Annie walked home an hour later.
‘They must both be down at my place,’ Annie said. ‘Come home and have a bite to eat, and find out what’s happening.’
Not wanting to go into the dark, empty house, Maggie agreed, although she doubted Phil would be at Annie’s, a doubt confirmed when they walked in.
‘He’s taken leave, packed a bag and left for the airport. Reckons if he’s standing there, a seat will turn up on a flight to London sooner or later.’
Alex explained this while he poured them each a glass of white wine.
You’ll just have to forgive me this lapse, Maggie told the baby, taking the glass and sipping gratefully at the wine.
‘Why London?’ someone said, only realising who the someone was when Annie and Alex answered together.
‘Because his family’s there,’ they chorused, and Maggie knew she couldn’t tell them he didn’t have a concept of ‘family’ in the way most people did.
But, still, they were his family, and maybe in times of stress everyone turned to family, no matter how dys-functional they were.
He certainly hadn’t turned to her!
Although he’d left her a note.
‘Take care of yourself, Mags. I’ll be back. Love, Phil.’
Love, Phil! Her brothers signed their emails with ‘Love, Jonah’ and ‘Love, Ryan’, even Tom occasionally added a ‘love’ to his sign-off ‘T’. That kind of ‘love’ meant nothing.
‘Not quite the kind of note you clutch to your heart and treasure for ever!’ Maggie muttered, but she did fold it into four and tuck it into her pocket, patting it from time to time as she walked up the stairs to prepare for bed.