From Christmas to Eternity

‘Not yet.’

‘Well, good luck with that. Anyway, I don’t want to go out for dinner.’

He stared at her, stunned. He’d bust a gut finishing off the assignment so he could spare the time, and now this? ‘Why ever not? You like going out for dinner.’

‘Not when we’re hardly speaking! It’s not my idea of fun to sit opposite you while you’re lost in thought on some stupid assignment or other for a course you’ve taken on without consulting me—’

‘Well, what do you want to do?’

‘I don’t want to do anything! I want you to talk to me! I want you to share decisions, not just steam ahead and do your own thing and leave us all behind! I want you to put the kids to bed, read them a story, give me a hug, bring me a cup of tea. I don’t need extravagant gestures, Andy, I just need you back.’

He sighed shortly, ramming his hand through his hair. ‘I haven’t gone anywhere, Lucy. I’m doing this for all of us.’

‘Are you? Well, it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like you’re just shutting us out, as if we don’t matter as much as your blasted career—’

‘That’s unfair.’

‘No, it isn’t! You’re unfair. Neglecting your children is unfair. When did you last put Lottie to bed?’

He swallowed hard and turned away. ‘Luce, it’s been chaos—’

‘Don’t give me excuses!’

‘It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason,’ he said tautly. ‘Anyway, I’m around tomorrow. We’ll do something then, all of us.’

‘Are you sure? You aren’t going to find something else to do?’

‘No! I’m here. All day. I promise.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, I haven’t got time for this. I’ve got work to do—’

‘Of course you have. You always have work to do, and it’s always more important than us. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with you.’

This time she was the one who walked off. She shouldered past him, went into the utility room, shut the door firmly and started to tackle the ironing while Lottie was napping.

His phone rang just before eleven that night, while he was printing off the hated assignment. HR? Really?

Really.

‘Oh, you’re kidding, Steve! Not again.’

‘Sorry, Andy. There isn’t anyone else. James isn’t back in the country until tomorrow, or I’d ask him. It’s just one of those things. I’ll sort a new locum first thing on Monday, I promise.’

He gave a heavy sigh and surrendered. ‘All right—but this is the last time, Steve. And you owe me, with bells on.’

He hung up, and sat there for a while wondering how on earth he was going to tell Lucy. She’d skin him alive.

And deservedly so.

He swore softly but succinctly under his breath, stacked the papers together, clipped them into a binder and put the assignment into an envelope without even glancing at it. It was too late to worry. It had to be there on Monday, and it was already too late to post it. He’d email it, but the hard copy would have to be couriered.

He’d do that on Monday morning, but now he was working all day tomorrow there was no time for any meaningful read-through before he sent it on its way. He’d only find some howler and, frankly, at this moment in time it seemed insignificant compared to telling Lucy that yet again he wasn’t going to be there for any quality time with her and the kids.

It was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

She was asleep by the time he went upstairs, and he got into bed beside her and contemplated pulling her into his arms and making love to her.

Probably not a good idea. He didn’t have the energy to do her justice and he had to be at work in seven hours. Cursing Steve and the sick locum and life in general, he shut his eyes, covered them with his arm and crashed into sleep.

The alarm on his phone woke him long before he was ready for it, and he silenced it and got straight out of bed before he could fall asleep again. Hell, he was tired. He stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower and got in without waiting for it to heat up.

The cold shocked him awake, and he soaped himself fast, towelled his body briskly and then ran the razor over his jaw. His hand was trembling again, he noticed, and he nicked himself.

Damn. It was the last thing he needed. He dried his face, leaving a bright streak of blood on the towel, and pressed a scrap of tissue over the cut to stem the bleeding while he cleaned his teeth.

He went back into the bedroom, leaving the bathroom door open so he could see to get his clothes out without putting on the bedroom light. He didn’t want to disturb Lucy—because he was hoping to sneak out without waking her? Probably, but it was too late for that, apparently.

‘Andy?’ she murmured, her voice soft with sleep. ‘Are you OK?’

Was he? Frankly, he had no idea. He pulled clothes out of the cupboard and started putting them on, and she propped herself up on one elbow and stared at him.

‘What are you doing, Andy? It’s Sunday morning. We don’t need to get up yet.’

‘I have to work. Steve rang last night, and I promised to do another shift—’

‘No! Why?’ She shoved herself up in the bed, dishevelled and sleepy and so beautiful she made his heart ache, her eyes filled with recrimination and disappointment. ‘Andy, you promised me! Why on earth did you agree? We don’t need the money, but we need you. The kids need you. I need you.’

‘And the hospital needs me—’

‘So put it first. Again. As always. Go on, go ahead—if that’s more important to you than us.’

‘Of course it’s not more important!’

‘Then don’t go!’

‘I have to! There’s nobody to cover the department.’

‘So they’ll have to shut it.’

‘They can’t. They can’t close the ED, Lucy, you’re being totally unreasonable.’

‘Well, you know what you can do, then. Go, by all means, but don’t bother coming home tonight, or any other night, because I can’t do this any more.’

He stared at her, slightly stunned. ‘Is that an ultimatum?’

‘Sounds like it to me.’

‘Oh, Lucy, for heaven’s sake, that’s ridiculous! You can’t make me choose!’

‘I don’t need to. Strikes me you already have. You come home after the children are asleep, you leave before they’re up—and when you’re here in the evening, you’re shut in your study or sitting behind your laptop screen totally ignoring me! What exactly do you think you’re bringing to this relationship?’

‘The money?’ he said sarcastically, and her face drained of colour.

‘You arrogant bastard,’ she spat softly. ‘We don’t need your money, and we certainly don’t need your attitude. I can go back to work for more days. I’m going back anyway next month for three sessions a week. They’ve asked me to, and I’ve said yes, and Lottie’s going to nursery. I’ll just do more hours, more sessions. They want as much time as I can give them, so I’ll give them more, if that’s what it takes.’

He stared at her, shocked. ‘When did they ask you? You didn’t tell me.’

‘When exactly was I supposed to tell you?’ she asked, her voice tinged with bitterness and disappointment. ‘You’re never here.’

‘That’s not true. I was here all day yesterday—’

‘Shut in your study doing something more important!’

‘Don’t be silly. This is important. You should have told me. You don’t need to go back to work.’

‘Yes, I do! I need to because if I don’t, I never get to have a sensible conversation with another adult, because you certainly aren’t around! You have no idea what it’s like talking to a seven month old baby all day, every day, with no relief from it except for the conversation of her seven and five year old sisters! I love her to bits, I love them all to bits, but I’m not just a mother, I’m a doctor, I’m a woman, and those parts of me need recognition. And they’re sure as hell not getting them from you!’

He sucked in his breath, stung by the bitterness in her voice. ‘Luce, that’s not fair. I’m doing it for us—’

‘No, you’re not! You’re doing it for you, for your precious ego that demands you never say no, always play the hero, always step up to the plate and never let your patients down. But you’re a husband and a father as well as a doctor, and you’re just sweeping all that under the mat. Well, newsflash, Gallagher, I’m not going to be swept under the mat any more. I don’t need the scraps of you left over from your “real” life, and nor do your children. We can manage without you. We do most of the time anyway. I doubt we’ll even notice the difference.’

He felt sick. ‘You don’t mean that. Where will you live?’

‘Here?’ she shrugged. ‘I can take over the mortgage.’

‘What, on a part-time salary? Dream on, Lucy.’

‘So we’ll move. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re happy, and we’re not at the moment, so go. Go to your precious hospital if you really must, but you have to realise that if you do, you won’t have a marriage to come back to, not even a lousy one.’

He stared at her, at the distress and anger and challenge in her eyes, and, for the briefest moment, he hesitated. Then, because he really had no choice, he turned on his heel and walked out of their bedroom and down the stairs.

She’d cool off. He’d give her time to think about it, time to consider all they’d be losing, and after he finished work, he’d come home and apologise, bring her some flowers and chocolates and a bottle of wine. Maybe a takeaway so she didn’t have to cook.

And he’d make love to her, long and slow, and she’d forgive him.

Two more weeks, he told himself grimly. Just two more weeks until the course was finished and the exam was over, and then they could sort this out.

They’d be fine. It was just a rocky patch, everyone had them. They’d deal with it.

He scooped up his keys, shrugged on his jacket and left.

CHAPTER TWO

HE’D gone. Turned on his heel and walked out.

She’d heard the utility room door close, the garage door slide up, the car start. Slightly open-mouthed with shock, she’d sat there in their bed, the quilt fisted in her hands, and listened to the shreds of their marriage disappearing off the drive in a slew of gravel.

The silence that followed was deafening.

She couldn’t believe he’d gone. She’d thought—

What? That he’d stay? That he’d phone the hospital and tell them he couldn’t go in, his wife had thrown a strop and threatened to kick him out? Hardly. It wasn’t Andy’s style. If he didn’t talk to her, he sure as eggs didn’t talk to anyone else.

And he’d told Steve he’d do it, so it was set in stone. It seemed that everything except them was set in stone.

She felt a sob rising in her throat, but she crushed it ruthlessly. This wasn’t the time for tears. She had the children to think about. Later, maybe, after they were in bed again, she’d cry. For now, she could hear Lottie chatting in her cot, and she pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, heading for her baby on autopilot.

She’d pack him some clothes—just enough to tide him over, give him time to think about things—and drop them off at work. Maybe that would shock him to his senses, because something surely had to.

She walked into Lottie’s room, into the sunshine of her smile, and felt grief slam into her chest. What had their baby done to deserve this?

‘Hello, my precious,’ she crooned softly. ‘Oh, you’re so gorgeous—come here.’ She scooped the beaming baby up against her heart and hugged her tight. Delicious, darling child, she thought, aching for what was to come. The fallout from this didn’t bear thinking about.

But Lottie didn’t know and she didn’t care. She was beginning to whine now, pulling at Lucy’s top, and she took her back to bed and fed her.

She was still breastfeeding her night and morning, but she might not be able to keep it going, she realised with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, not if she had to get the girls ready for school and out of the door in time to get to work. She stared down, watching her daughter suckle, treasuring every second of this fleeting, precious moment.

The baby flung her little arm out, turning her head at a sound from the window, endlessly curious and distracted now her thirst was slaked, and Lucy sat her up in the middle of the bed and handed her a toy to play with while she packed a bag for Andy.

It seemed so wrong—so unnecessary! Why couldn’t he see? Why couldn’t he give them the time they surely deserved?

Damn. She swallowed the tears down, threw his razor and deodorant and toothbrush into a washbag, tucked it into the holdall and zipped it up. There. Done. She’d drop it in later, on their way out somewhere.

The zoo?

No. It was cold and rainy. Maybe she’d take them swimming to the leisure centre, to take their minds off Andy’s absence.

Oh, help. She’d have to tell the girls something—but what?

That he was working? So busy working he didn’t have time to come home, so he was going to stay at the hospital?

That was a good point. She had no idea where he’d stay, and she told herself she didn’t care, but he might need to wear something at night. She unzipped the bag again, put in the emergency pyjamas which never saw the light of day and a clean dressing gown and the slippers his aunt had sent him for Christmas last year, and tugged the zip closed with a sinking feeling.

Christmas. It was only a little over two months away.

Would he be there with them for Christmas? What if he never came to his senses?

What if they simply didn’t matter that much to him?

She choked down the sob and scooped Lottie up, carrying her and the holdall downstairs and putting her in the high chair with some toys while she put the bag into her car. He’d need his laptop, she realised, and went into his study to get it. She wasn’t giving him an excuse to come back here tonight and try to win her round. They’d been married ten years now and she knew how his mind worked. No. He had to take this seriously.

There was a large brown envelope lying on the lid of his laptop, the address written in his bold, slashing script. His assignment, she realised. She frowned at it. His writing was untidier than usual—because he was so tired? Probably. His fault, she told herself, crushing the little flicker of sympathy.

She put the envelope into the case with the computer, threw in the power lead and his flash drive, then remembered his mobile phone charger, as well, and took the case out to the garage.

By the time she got back into the kitchen, the girls were coming down the stairs, giggling and chasing each other into the kitchen.

Oh, lord, how to tell them?

‘Morning, darlings.’

‘Morning!’ Emily reached up as she bent down and kissed her, then went and sat at the table, legs swinging. ‘Mummy, what are we doing today?’

Megan’s arms were round her hips hugging her, and she stroked her hair automatically and tried to smile at her daughters. ‘I don’t know. What would you like to do?’

‘Can we feed the ducks with Daddy?’ Megan asked, tipping her head back, her eyes pleading.

She hauled in a breath, her smile faltering. ‘No, sorry, he’s had to go to work.’

‘But he said he wasn’t working today!’ Emily said, looking appalled. ‘He promised us!’

‘I know. He didn’t want to go but they didn’t have anyone else. And he can’t let people suffer.’

The words had a hollow ring of truth, but she brushed them aside. He could have said no. They would have found someone, or if necessary closed the unit. Or he could at least have talked to her about it, instead of presenting it as a fait accompli.

‘Actually, he’s going to be so busy he’s going to stay at the hospital for a few nights,’ she said, the lie sticking in her throat. ‘So, anyway, I thought maybe we could go swimming after breakfast. What do you think? And then maybe we can get pizza for lunch.’

Their replies sounded fairly enthusiastic, but there was something missing, some extra sparkle and fizz, another dimension that should have been there.

Andy. Their father, her husband, the man who broke promises.

Don’t go there!

‘Right. Who wants what for breakfast?’

It was tedious and chaotic and half the people didn’t need to be there.

Realistically, they could have got anyone to cover him, he thought grimly as he worked his way through the sprains and strains and fractures that yesterday’s sporting fixtures had left in their wake. It was all basic stuff, the sort of thing that any half-decent doctor could deal with, and the thought made him angry.

‘Right, you’ll need to come to the Fracture Clinic tomorrow morning between eight and nine for assessment and a proper cast. Here’s a prescription for pain relief.’

He scrawled his signature on the bottom, handed it over and walked out, shaking his head and rolling it on his neck. It ached, and he couldn’t think clearly. He was so, so tired. Maybe Lucy was right. Maybe he should have just said no, and they would have had to close the unit. That might have made them sit up and take notice and get a bit better organised.

In the meantime, he needed a coffee. A strong one.

‘Oh, Mr Gallagher, your wife dropped your case and laptop off. They’re behind here,’ the receptionist said as he passed her.

He stared at her for a shocked half-second, then nodded. ‘Yes—of course. Sorry, miles away. Could you stick them in my office?’

‘Sure.’ She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Mr Gallagher, are you OK?’

‘I’m fine, Jane. I’m just tired,’ he muttered, and then went behind reception. ‘Actually I’ll take them myself,’ he said, and hoisting the bag and laptop case up, he headed for his office.

He could feel her eyes boring into him all the way, hear the speculation starting. Damn Lucy! Damn her for making it all so much worse than it had to be.

He shut the door, dumped the bags on the floor behind his desk and slammed his fist down on it.

How dare she! How dare she bring his things in like that and make a public spectacle of their dirty laundry?

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialled her number. It went straight to answerphone. Screening his call?

‘I’ve just been accosted by a curious receptionist who handed me an overnight bag,’ he said shortly. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at? Call me!’

He cut the connection and threw the phone down on the desk in disgust.

She’d meant it. She’d really, really meant it.

He felt numb, and slightly sick. And homeless? Where was he going to stay?

Stupid. He should just go home, have it out with her, make a few promises—and keep them, his conscience prodded—and deal with it. Except he was angry—angry with Steve for asking him to cover again, angry with the whole locum situation, angry with Lucy for not being reasonable, but most of all angry with himself for letting it all get out of hand by not saying no. Not to mention taking on the course, which was the just the last straw on the back of this failing camel that was their marriage.

And it wasn’t going to get any better until the course was over, until he’d sat the exam and could put the whole damn thing to bed. Then he could go back to Lucy and talk about this.

And in the meantime, they could have a cooling off period. Lucy could calm down a bit, so could he, and he could shut himself away somewhere and work so he had the slightest chance of passing the course, to make the whole thing worthwhile.

It was half term next week and Lucy had already arranged to take the children to her parents so he could revise in peace. So he’d check into a hotel, get the exam out of the way and then they could all get back to normal.

But first, they needed to agree on what they were telling the children, because the last thing he wanted was them thinking that their marriage was coming to an end when it wasn’t—or at least, not if he had anything to say about it.

He pulled the telephone directory out of his drawer, looked up the number of a decent hotel chain which had a motel nearby and booked himself a room.

And then he went back to work, asked one of the nurses to bring him back a coffee when she came back from her break and took the next set of notes out of the rack.

∗ ∗ ∗

The receptionist gave him a wide berth for the rest of the day.

He wasn’t surprised. Gossip travelled like wildfire through hospitals, and even though there was nothing to know, really, he could sense the speculation.

He hated it. Hated that they were talking about him behind his back, hated that when he walked out at the end of the day carrying his bag and laptop case, he could feel eyes following him.

You’re imagining it, he told himself, throwing the cases in the car and slamming the boot, still furious with Lucy. The motel was just a couple of minutes away, on the road into town, and he checked in and went straight to his room.

Clean, functional, with a kingsize bed, a sofa, a desk with a work light and a bathroom with a decent power shower, it was the generic hotel room. Everything he needed, but soulless and empty, because the only thing he really needed was his family.

His throat felt tight, and he swallowed hard and dumped the bags on the bed. She still hadn’t called him. Why not? It was six o’clock. She’d be dealing with the children.

Fine. He’d go over to the indifferent restaurant, get himself something to eat and then come back here and work, otherwise this whole damn fiasco would be pointless.

She stared at the phone, her lip caught between her teeth, and psyched herself up to call him.

He was right. She shouldn’t have dumped his stuff in reception. She’d been steaming mad with him, but she could as easily have put it in the boot of his car and sent him a text.

She owed him an apology for that, and he was right, they needed to talk about the children, to arrange a time for him to see them so they didn’t feel cut off from him. That was the last thing she wanted.

Sucking in a deep breath, she dialled his number, and he answered on the first ring.

‘This better be good, Lucy.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, before he could get another word in. ‘I didn’t think. I was just cross. Andy, we need to talk.’

‘Yes, we do. You don’t just kick me out like a damn cat and then publicly humiliate me in front of the entire department. You owe me more than that, whatever beef you might have with me. And you owe the kids more. They’re at school with other staff members’ children, and you know what hospitals are like, so what story are we coming up with so they don’t end up being screwed over by this nonsense?’

‘It isn’t nonsense, Andy. Our marriage is foundering, and you have to start taking that seriously.’

‘Oh, I take it seriously. Very seriously. I also take my job seriously, but the kids come first, even if it doesn’t seem like it, and right now, I’m being pulled in so many directions I can’t be reasonable about this. Of all the times to pick—’

‘It’s because of this time!’ she interrupted. ‘Precisely because of what’s been going on! And that blasted course—’

‘I don’t want the children thinking there’s a rift in our marriage, not until we’ve tried and failed to work it out, and I don’t want that to happen under any circumstances, but I can’t deal with this now. I’ll do what you say, I’ll keep out of the way, get this exam over and the course finished, and then we’ll talk, but play fair and cut me some slack, Luce, because I’m so tired I’m at breaking point.’

His voice cracked, and she swallowed a sob. She nearly told him to come home, but what he said made sense.

‘OK. We’ll do that. I’ve told the children you’re so busy at the hospital that you’re going to stay there for a few days. We’ll stick with that. I’m away with them next week anyway, so you can work undisturbed. And then after the exam, we’ll talk about this. OK?’