SHE’D SPENT THE last three nights sleeping on chairs or airport floors. Every bone and muscle in her body ached.
The hospital was eerily quiet. The staff she’d met had shaken hands with her politely and looked at Duc with wary eyes. She could sense everyone tiptoeing around him.
She’d always loved this place on the times they’d visited. Even the name May Mắn, which translated to ‘good luck’ in English and that was what she always called it in her head. The Good Luck Hospital. The place had an upbeat vibe and served one of the poorest populations in Hanoi. But somehow now, as they passed through the corridors, the vibe felt very different.
Once they’d walked through to the grounds at the back, he took her to one of the three white cottages built on the land the hospital owned. It had a pale yellow door. Khiem and Hoa’s house.
For some strange reason she hadn’t thought he would be staying in his parents’ home and it made her catch her breath.
She blinked. Unexpected tears formed in her eyes. She’d met Khiem and Hoa on a few occasions. They had been lovely, warm people, dedicated to their work, and to the people they’d served.
She’d been able to tell from a few glances just how proud they had been of their son. But more than that, they’d been welcoming, interested in the lonely Scottish girl that Duc had invited into their home. They’d never made her feel as if she’d outstayed her welcome, or that she couldn’t come back whenever she wanted. Hoa had emailed on a few occasions when vacancies had arisen at the hospital—almost giving Viv first refusal. It had been considerate, and kind, and she’d appreciated the gesture, even though she’d only ever visited with Duc.
Now she was back in their home, without really having had time to mourn the passing of her friends. She’d missed the funeral and just walking through the front door sent her senses into overload.
She glanced nervously at Duc, wondering what this must be doing to him. Today was the first time in their friendship that she’d ever seen him break down.
Of course he would. He’d just lost his mum and dad in some random crazy car accident. And deep inside she knew that it had killed him to do that in front of her. But this was why she’d come. This was why she hadn’t hesitated to jump on a plane to get here.
Duc had played this role in her life over and over again. By the time they’d met, her adoptive parents had already died. He’d supported her when she’d searched for her birth parents—and had been there when both of them had turned out to be less than she’d hoped for. He’d wrapped her in his arms when she’d had her heart broken twice. And when she’d had a cruel diagnosis a few years ago that had messed with her head.
Of course she would be here for him. Her heart was breaking for him—but she wouldn’t let him see that. Here, she had to be the strong one. Duc had played the role for her time and time again, and this time she would do it for him.
Even if everything in this quaint house reminded her in every way of both his parents.
She breathed deeply. She could even smell them here—the jasmine tea they always drank, the sandalwood cologne his father always wore, and the rose-scented spray his mother used in the rooms. Vivienne blinked. The truth was that she expected them to walk through the door at any moment. And if she felt like that, she could only imagine how Duc was feeling.
She reached over and grabbed his hand. ‘Duc, are you sure about staying here? About being here?’
On a table was a framed picture of Duc and his parents together. In another corner was a pile of books that one of his parents must have been reading. A popular fiction novel, a historical romance, a book about alternative therapies and a research journal about obstetrics.
He turned around to look at her, leaving her case in the middle of the sitting room. For the first time she realised just how tired he looked. ‘Where else can I go? I’ve have to cover shifts at the hospital.’ He looked almost apologetic. ‘And so do you.’
She nodded. ‘Of course. I’m ready to start tomorrow. Just tell me what you need me to do.’ She gave him a careful stare. ‘There isn’t anywhere else you can stay but here?’
He looked around and held out his hands. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s home. It’s not my home,’ he said quickly, ‘but it’s theirs. And I can’t stay anywhere else.’
He stepped forward and tugged her case. ‘I’ve put you in here. I changed the beds...’ He pulled a face. ‘Actually, that’s not true. Mai Ahn, our interpreter, came in and did everything. I think she just wanted to help and, to be honest, I’m really glad she did.’
He was accepting help. Good. Duc could be stubborn sometimes, his intense pride getting in the way of things. She wasn’t sure quite what kind of relationship he had with the people who worked here, but at least he wasn’t shutting everyone out.
Viv moved towards the room. It only took an instant to realise the room had belonged to Khiem and Hoa. Their belongings were still scattered at various points around the place. A pair of shoes neatly tucked under a chair. Another book on the bedside table. A notepad with some scribbles next to the phone in the room. She gulped, feeling a little overwhelmed. Of course she could object—but Duc was obviously using the other room. Objecting would just make things more difficult for him.
She pressed her lips together for a second then turned and gave him a bright smile. ‘Okay, let me get showered, then we can talk.’
There was the briefest of pauses. Talking was the last thing Duc clearly wanted to do. But she wasn’t going to be put off. She was here to help, and she couldn’t do that by not talking. Duc knew her better than that anyhow.
She walked back over and stood underneath his nose. ‘No, I’m not too tired. No, I don’t want to do anything else first. Find me some food, and I’m all yours.’ She nudged him with her elbow. ‘No excuses.’
He let out a sigh. It was clear she’d won this battle. ‘No excuses,’ he agreed as he strode through to the kitchen and started opening cupboards.
He hadn’t eaten properly in the last three days. He hadn’t been hungry, and it had been the last thing on his mind. But as he pulled some food from the cupboards and fridge, splashed some oil into the wok, his stomach let out an involuntary rumble.
He heard the sound of the running shower, closely followed by the blast of the hairdryer. Vivienne was quick, opening the door with her hair in a red cloud around her head and wearing a pair of soft white cotton pyjamas. She glanced towards the table and tiled floor, then moved across to the sofa and sagged down on the comfortable cushions, pulling her feet up. Duc was already serving up into two bowls. He handed her the chicken and noodle mixture then sat down next to her on the sofa.
She warily sniffed her dish. ‘Okay, is this edible?’
He smiled. ‘What are you trying to say about my cooking?’
‘I say that for as long as I’ve known you, your cooking has always involved a takeout menu.’
He pretended to look hurt. ‘Try it. It’s one of my mother’s recipes.’
The words came out of nowhere, quickly followed by the tumbleweed that seemed to blow across the room in front of him.
Viv’s hand reached over and gave his knee a quick squeeze. ‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ she said quietly, as she started to eat.
Every spoonful was an unconscious reminder. He’d used the spices and oils from his mother’s cupboards. The pangs of hunger he’d felt for a few moments instantly vanished. Now he understood why grieving friends lost weight. It was so easy to be distracted—to be put off.
Vivienne was different—she ate hungrily, emptying the bowl in five minutes. She stood up and walked over to the fridge, examining the contents before pulling out a bottle of spring water. ‘This wasn’t what I had in mind,’ she said as she held it up, ‘but I’ll make do.’
He watched as she rested one hand on the chair. Her white cotton pyjamas might cover every part of her, but they still highlighted every curve. Curves he’d never really paid any attention to before—and he was currently asking himself why.
The lines between him and Vivienne had been clear from the beginning. They were friends—best friends. He’d held her hair back while she’d been sick, she’d put him up when his roommate had wrecked their apartment and they’d been flung out. From the word go, they’d felt comfortable around each other. They’d had countless conversations over the years about Viv’s disastrous relationships. She was smart. She was gorgeous. She was sassy. And she had appalling taste in men.
Every no-good layabout, sob-story-carrying wastrel seemed to cross her path. Each one breaking her heart more than the one before.
Viv had also cast her eyes over Duc’s partners over the years. Some she’d been grudgingly approving of, others had been dismissed with a wave of a hand and a few perceptive words. Gold-digger. Stalker. Needs a backbone. Self-obsessed.
He, in turn, grudgingly admitted that on most occasions those few words had turned out to be uncannily accurate. He’d started to call her the fortune teller and tease her to pick their lottery numbers.
But she hadn’t seen this coming.
The door rattled behind them and Lien burst through the door. ‘Good, you’re here. I need you.’
Lien’s eyes went hastily to Vivienne and she gave a little start.
Duc stepped forward. ‘Lien, this is Vivienne Kerr, my friend, the midwife that I told you about.’
Lien gave a quick nod of her head. ‘Perfect timing.’ She didn’t ask why Vivienne was standing in Duc’s house in her pyjamas. Instead she turned back to the door. ‘Get changed quickly—you’re needed.’
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One minute Viv was contemplating sitting down with her friend and finding out exactly how she could help him best.
The next second she was stripping off her comfortable PJs and yanking on a pair of the burgundy-coloured scrubs she kept in the top of her rucksack. She grabbed her matching soft shoes and ran across the grass, back towards the hospital.
Even though it was the middle of the night, every corridor was brightly lit. Vivienne followed the others. Lien was talking rapidly in Vietnamese and Duc was nodding. She tried to focus. She’d worked here a few times and had picked up a few phrases in Vietnamese. For a midwife they mainly comprised of ‘push’, ‘stop’ and ‘breathe’, but her brain was struggling to remember them right now.
Duc walked through to another room. Viv tried to keep track. She hadn’t familiarised herself completely with this place again. Between that, the jet-lag, and the overwhelming sweep of tiredness, she wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Thank goodness she’d had time to eat.
Her hands caught her hair and coiled it at the back of her neck, twisting it back on itself until it was anchored in place. Lien’s gaze caught hers. ‘Neat trick.’ She gave Viv an anxious smile.
Viv shrugged. ‘Years of people stealing my hair elastics. Had to improvise.’
The anxiousness of Lien’s smile made Viv’s stomach clench. Last time Viv had been here she’d been impressed by the relaxed nature of most of the deliveries at May Mắn Hospital. Hoa had very much believed in letting the woman take the lead for her labour—much like most of the midwife-led units back home—and Viv shared this philosophy. But right now? When there was a clinical emergency? Things were different. Now it was the job of the professionals to guide the woman and baby to the safest possible conclusion, and from the look on Lien’s face it was up to Viv to take the lead.
Duc pulled his T-shirt over his head, swapping it for a pale blue scrub top that he grabbed from the pile on a rack on the wall. Viv tried not to stare. But it had been a long time since she’d seen Duc in a state of semi-undress. His chiselled abs weren’t lost on her. She wasn’t blind. She pulled her eyes away just as Lien moved closer. ‘Do you want to come and meet our patient, Viv?’
Viv nodded. ‘Of course.’
Lien gave her a small smile as she pushed open a door. ‘I’ll introduce you.’
Lien gestured to the woman in the bed. There was another man with light brown hair by her bed. ‘This is Resta. She’s thirty-nine weeks, or thereabouts. Presented in labour with what appears to be shoulder dystocia. We have no prenatal history.’
Viv nodded. Because she’d worked here before with Duc she knew it wasn’t entirely unusual for women not to present for prenatal care.
Lien pointed to the other guy in the room. ‘My husband, Dr Joe Lennox.’
Joe was in position at the bottom of the bed, one hand cradling part of the baby’s head. He gave a quick glance up. ‘I hope you’re the cavalry,’ he said in a hushed voice, keeping his expression neutral, ‘because I’m no obstetrician and I’m out of options.’ His Glasgow accent was thick, and Viv immediately recognised the stress in his voice.
Viv drew in a breath. Shoulder dystocia. Every midwife and obstetrician’s nightmare. A baby whose shoulder got stuck and stopped the baby being delivered safely.
Viv looked around the room quickly, locating some gloves. ‘Would you like me to take a look?’
Joe nodded gratefully. ‘Please.’ Lien turned to the woman on the bed and spoke to her in Vietnamese, introducing Vivienne to her. There was no getting away from it, the woman looked exhausted and terrified. No wonder. Shoulder dystocia could rarely be predicted. Women typically got to the end of a long labour and once they’d delivered their baby’s head thought it was only a matter of minutes until it was all over.
Vivienne glanced around the room again, quickly taking note of the equipment available to her.
She took a deep breath. Lien and Joe were both doing their best to keep their faces neutral, but Joe had already told her this wasn’t his field. From what she’d gathered from Duc, this was nobody’s field right now at May Mắn Hospital.
Hoa was dead, and the other obstetrician who normally helped out was off sick, having just been diagnosed with breast cancer.
It looked like Vivienne was the total of midwifery and obstetric knowledge here.
She could see the baby’s head tight against the perineum. This wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a shoulder dystocia. But usually a diagnosis was followed by hitting the emergency buzzer, with two other midwives, an anaesthetist and an obstetrician all rushing to assist.
Those people weren’t here now. It was her. It was just her.
Deep inside, part of her wanted to scream for this poor woman. She’d worked with Duc over the years, and she knew he was a good doctor. The absolute worst-case scenario here would be the Zavanelli manoeuvre, where they had to try and put the baby’s head back into the vagina and perform an emergency caesarean section. Duc was the only surgeon here. She doubted if he’d performed a caesarean section before but, if need be, she could talk him through it.
She pushed that thought away and tried not to think about it, taking a note of the time on the clock on the wall.
Viv moved automatically into midwife mode, reassuring her patient, even though she didn’t speak the language, and letting Lien or Duc take time to translate everything she said.
It was a stressful situation for everyone in the room. Joe and Lien were calm influences, moving smoothly and easily. They seemed to foresee each other’s actions. It was interesting to watch them work together.
Vivienne took charge. Assessing her patient. Directing her not to push. She attached a monitor to the baby that would alert her to any signs of distress.
‘Okay, folks,’ she said calmly. ‘We’re going to try a change of position. It’s called the McRoberts manoeuvre and it’s used in this condition to try and release the shoulder. What we really want to do is create some space in the pelvis, and we need to move mum and, sometimes, baby to do that.’
She gave Lien a nod, waiting for her to explain to Resta that they were going to help her to lie on her back and move her legs outwards and up towards her chest. As this was a delivery room there was no end on the bed and Vivienne could move easily to try and assist.
She kept her face completely neutral. ‘This entirely depends on the baby’s position. If it’s the anterior shoulder caught under the symphysis pubis, this tends to work.’
‘And if it’s not?’ Duc’s dark eyes met hers. He’d moved behind the patient, supporting her position.
Vivienne kept her voice calm and low. ‘If it’s both shoulders, they’ll be stuck under the pelvis brim and this won’t help. But this is where we start.’
She kept calm. Running through the mental checklist in her head. Waiting to see if the change of position would have any effect on the baby’s ability to be delivered. She was lucky. This baby wasn’t showing signs of distress. Yet.
After a few minutes she shifted to the side of the bed, giving Duc a nod. ‘I’m going to press on the abdomen just above the pubic bone to try and release the shoulder. Can someone explain to Resta and keep reassuring her?’
Duc nodded and spoke in a deep, low voice, his hand gently on the woman’s arm. She could tell that the woman seemed to trust what he was telling her, even though she was clearly exhausted. Viv understood that at this stage all any woman wanted was to deliver her baby and have it safely in her arms.
It was interesting. She was in a room with three doctors, who were all perfectly willing to allow her to take the lead. There were no power struggles in here. Everyone just wanted this baby out safely.
Vivienne kept a careful eye on the clock and the baby monitor. Timing was crucial.
‘Okay, time to try something else, I’m going to do something called the Rubin manoeuvre to try and release the baby’s shoulders.’
She explained carefully, then slid fingers in on either side of the baby’s head, trying a number of techniques, without success.
The baby’s heart rate started to slow. Both mum and baby were tired, and the baby was starting to get distressed.
She was calm and methodical, secretly glad that the heart monitor wasn’t on her instead of the baby because, despite everything, panic was definitely setting in. She wasn’t quite sure how long it would take them to set up a theatre if need be.
‘Okay,’ she said. The baby’s head was still wedged tightly, with very little room for a blade to make an episiotomy. ‘Let’s try mum around on all fours. Let’s see if a further change of position lets things move on.’
In another few minutes she would need to attempt to deliver one of the baby’s arms or give Duc the nod that they needed to head to Theatre. She was running out of options.
Lien explained in a reassuring manner to Resta what they wanted her to try, just as Vivienne sent a little prayer skyward. Joe and Duc helped mum around and baby let out a little grumble at the change of position.
But within a few seconds it was clear it was the right move. Resta was on all fours on the bed. Viv hated the fact she no longer had eye contact with mum, but this was a case of needs must.
Almost instantly she could see a change. ‘Give me a second,’ she said to the others. The baby’s face looked a little more relaxed. ‘I think the shoulder’s been dislodged. Tell Resta to give me a push on her next contraction.’
One minute later the little bundle slid out into her arms. After a few seconds of shocked silence the baby started screaming. Vivienne did a few quick checks. Colour was good. Baby was breathing.
Joe appeared at her side and held out his hands for the baby. Duc helped her clamp and cut the cord, then they helped Resta turn back around to deliver the placenta. Viv caught Joe’s eye. He gave a hopeful nod. When shoulder dystocia had a complicated delivery there could be injuries to the baby’s shoulders and nerves. The baby would need to be observed. But for now he brought the baby over to let mum have a cuddle. ‘Đó là một cô gái,’ he said.
A girl. She recognised the word. Mum looked thrilled. The relief in the room was palpable, all the professionals exchanging glances. Duc shot her a smile and gave a grateful nod of his head as he walked back towards her. ‘Thank goodness you were here,’ he whispered.
Viv looked around the room as she started to tidy up. ‘I’m sure you would have all got there.’ The clenching in her stomach was only just starting to ease.
Lien came over and rubbed Viv’s arm. ‘Thanks so much.’ She glanced at her husband. ‘Sorry for the rude introduction earlier. Joe and I can take it from here. You must be exhausted.’
Viv nodded. ‘I am, but let me finish the notes and a few final checks on mum.’ It didn’t matter how tired she was. She would always make sure her clinical work and her paperwork were completed.
One of the aides brought in some jasmine tea, and Joe did some more checks on the baby. As Vivienne made sure she was satisfied that mum and baby were settled and well cared for, Duc slung an arm around her shoulders.
‘You look as if you haven’t slept in a week. Let’s go. Those jammies are still waiting.’
They walked back out into the cooler night air. Viv stopped for a moment, putting her hands on her hips and arching her aching back.
‘Okay?’ He was right next to her, the warmth from his body crossing the minuscule space between them.
She looked up into his dark eyes. ‘You weren’t joking, were you—when you said you’d no one for obstetrics?’
His dark eyes clouded. He shook his head. ‘No. No one. I don’t know when, or if, our other doctor will be back. This was an area that my mother always took care of—was always on top of. The last few days...’ he looked up the dark night sky ‘...I guess we’ve just been lucky.’
‘You can’t rely on luck, Duc,’ she said quickly. ‘That’s not fair on the staff, or the patients.’
He sighed, and she could literally see the energy sagging out of his body. He’d come into that situation tonight, knowing that performing an unfamiliar surgery could be the difference between life and death for that mum and baby. She hadn’t seen him halt or contemplate refusing. He’d been there. Ready to perform if required.
She turned to face him, their bodies almost touching. ‘What would have happened if you’d needed to do a section?’
He paused for only a second. ‘Then I would have done a section.’ He looked down at her. ‘I’m sure you could have talked me through it.’
Viv’s skin prickled—and not in a good way. ‘But that puts horrible pressure on you, and me.’ She shook her head. ‘This can’t happen again.’
He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. ‘You think I don’t know that?’ He threw his hands upwards. ‘You think I wasn’t in there absolutely crapping myself?’ He turned his back and took a few steps away from her, his momentary flare of anger starting to dissipate. ‘You think I want any of this, Viv?’
His voice broke and she stepped forward and took his hands in hers. He kept talking. ‘Of course I don’t. But tonight would have been considered emergency surgery. Whether obstetrics is my area or not, I’m still a general surgeon. I would still be expected to perform emergency surgery as and when required.’
His hands were shaking, and she realised just how scared he had actually been.
‘I don’t want to be here, Viv. I don’t want any of this. But what can I do? The worst part about all this—I don’t even feel myself right now. I can’t be myself. I need to be Khiem and Hoa’s son.’ He had a bit of a wild, panicked look in his eyes. ‘The one who will sort out the hospitals and make sure the patients are looked after. The one who will make sure everything keeps running exactly as it did before—supplying all the same services for patients, even though we’re two doctors down. Maybe I just wave my magic wand and whip them out of thin air? I tried to place an advert and begin the recruitment process yesterday—but apparently there’s some red tape and I need to meet with the lawyer first. How can a hospital run with no doctors?’
He put his hands on his hips and took a few deep breaths, his head downcast. Now she understood the pressure he was truly under. Before, she’d just been thinking about the grief of losing his parents. But it seemed she really should have paid much more attention to his panicked phone call. He raised his head and met her gaze, pressing a hand to his chest. ‘I can’t just be Duc Nguyen, surgeon from Philadelphia. The guy who was just about to sign on a house he’s spent the last six months looking for. The guy who had been tipped that he was going to be offered the next slot on the team at the teaching hospital. I’d even been told to start thinking about recruiting my own team.’ He threw up his hands. ‘This is just not where I thought I would be.’
She reached over and put her hand on his arm, gently bringing it back down. Part of her had always envied Duc and his lovely family life. But now she could see how much pain it had unlocked for him. Maybe her detached way of life was actually easier.
She hadn’t known about the house, or the potential to become a permanent member of the team in Philadelphia. That was huge. He must have done so well. It was clear they were impressed by him. Now she understood exactly how much being here was costing him.
He closed his eyes and spoke quietly. ‘The reading of the will is in a few days and then I’ll find out what my parents’ plans were for this place.’ His face crumpled. ‘They always mentioned they wanted me to take over—and I always told them my heart was in surgery. But we never had a truly serious conversation—not one with plans and lawyers. Our half-hearted discussions took place at the dinner table or between seeing patients when I came back and helped out during the holidays. Now I’m realising how much I don’t know. I guess we just never imagined that something like this would happen.’
He shook his head. ‘Until it did.’ He held out his hands for a few seconds, before walking closer and resting them down on her shoulders.
His head dipped towards hers. And they stood there for a few seconds in the moonlight with their foreheads touching. ‘I’m just glad you’re here, Viv. I couldn’t cope with any of this without you.’
She had so much she wanted to say right now—about the hospital, the responsibilities, the issues that needed to be sorted out straight away. But it wasn’t the time. He didn’t need that right now. What Duc needed right now was his friend.
She reached up and put her hand over his, giving it a squeeze. ‘And you don’t need to.’
They stood for a few more moments, before Duc slung his arm back around her shoulders and they walked back to the bungalow.
As he pushed open the door, he gave her a half-smile. ‘Hey, Viv?’
She was already eyeing her discarded white pyjamas, dying to jump straight back into them. She glanced back at him. ‘What?’
He gave her a weary smile. ‘Welcome to Hanoi.’