Midwives On Call: Stealing The Surgeon's Heart

She wasn’t alone.

The world might be happily turning but she wasn’t the only one facing this type of problem and somehow it comforted her, somehow it gave her strength.

Paying the taxi driver, Harriet rummaged in her bag for her keys, turning them slowly in the lock and trying to creep in the front door without waking Drew, only this time it wasn’t because she was afraid of confrontation but because, quite simply, she wasn’t up to dealing with it right now. But when this was over, when her stomach was better, she was going to sit down with Drew and talk, really talk for once, find out where their marriage was exactly, and where, if anywhere, it was going. It was time to face the truth.

Literally!

Seeing them lying together, Harriet witnessed at first hand the passion that had been missing in this bed for so long now, that long blonde hair tumbling over the pillowcase, her pillowcase, the one that she, Harriet, had washed, ironed and put on! Facing a fact more appalling than any she had considered, for the second time that night, Harriet choked back bile, only a grumbling appendix had nothing to do with it.

‘Harriet!’

Shocked eyes, which she’d thought she’d known, snapped open as she turned on the light, her own eyes widening in disgusted horror as the blonde, thin beauty beside him uncoiled her tanned long limbs and taking in the scene had the gall to smirk somewhat defiantly over at Harriet.

‘Please, don’t try and tell me that it’s not what I think.’ Furious, embarrassed, Harriet turned and ran, taking the steps two at a time, shaking Drew off when he caught up with her, a hastily wrapped towel around his waist.

‘Harriet, please, don’t just walk out. We need to talk.’

‘Talk to me through your solicitor, Drew.’ She shook her head as if to clear it. ‘That’s why you were nice to me tonight. All that crap about getting me a hot-water bottle, pretending that you care, when all the time you were just glad I was going to work so your tart—’

‘Harriet, don’t be like that.’

‘What is she, then? What lady would get into someone else’s marital bed while the wife was out working? My God, Drew, I’ve worked my backside off to put you through acting school, put up with all your moods and insecurities when all you could get was a couple of walk-on parts, even upped and moved yet again, so you could take this job. And this is how you treat me. Don’t expect nice here, Drew, don’t expect me to smile and say it’s OK, as I have done over the years when you treat me like dirt…’

‘You need to calm down,’ he said. ‘We need to work out what we’re going to do—’

‘You mean we need to work out what we’re going to tell people?’ Harriet retorted bitterly. ‘Why? Are you worried that if the press find out that your new agent mightn’t be pleased, worried that your popularity ratings might dip for a week or two? That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t give a damn what this is doing to me, all you’re worried about is how it’s going to affect you! All those nights I’ve been working for us!’

‘You’ve been working because you love your job,’ Drew sneered.

‘Not that much, Drew!’ Harriet retorted. ‘Not sixty-hour weeks just so that you can pursue your dreams. The difference between you and I is that I didn’t constantly moan about it, didn’t assume the world was against me because I had to earn a living the hard way.’

‘Hard!’ Drew blazed. ‘Have you any idea what my work involves? The constant demands, the pressure to always look the part. All you have to do is pull on a uniform…’

On and on, the same old song she had danced to over the years, only this time it was a different tune. This time Harriet didn’t automatically back down, because the reason she was home at two in the morning was making itself known, the misery that had brought her to this moment was repeating itself, only this time when nausea struck she didn’t make a blind dash for the bathroom—she knew that there was no one to guide her, and it should have been mortifying, should have been the indignity to top them all, but seeing the horror in Drew’s eyes as she threw up on the smart cream carpet made her, for some inexplicable reason, want to laugh.

‘So my job’s easy, is it?’ Her defiant eyes met his. ‘Well, see how much you enjoy cleaning up someone else’s mess.’

The cool night air on her flaming cheeks as she burst out the front door slapped some sense into her. Harriet knew she should go back, knew she should demand that the other woman leave her home—Drew, too, for that matter—but lousy at confrontation at the best of times, all she wanted now was to be alone. She made her way to the bus shelter at the end of her street and sat for how long she didn’t know, staring at the tiny sliver of a new moon, eyes curiously dry as she gazed up to the skies. And at that moment she knew without reservation that her marriage was over, that, no matter what, there would be no going back.

Now what?

She didn’t know if she said it out loud, acutely aware now of the precariousness of her situation. Obviously unwell, she should be in bed, but there was no way she was going back there.

A hotel perhaps? Making to stand, she gave in even before the thought had formed—a searing pain forcing her back to the cold wooden bench.

Clutching her stomach, Harriet consoled herself that it had been a stupid idea anyway. How the hell was she supposed to get to a hotel when her car was back at Emergency and her keys were back at the house, along with her mobile phone, when all she had on her was a couple of coins for the Emergency vending machine and an ID badge hanging around her neck.

‘What am I going to do?’

This time she did say it out loud, teeth chattering as she clutched at her stomach, hating with a passion her appendix, which had chosen this time in her life to introduce itself to its owner. The bright lights of the phone booth across the road beckoned her to come over.

And it was the longest, loneliest walk of her life, the most difficult call she had ever made, picking up a telephone and dialling the emergency number, listening to the calm voice at the other end as she tried to fashion her mounting hysteria into a voice, to say the three little words that no one ever really wanted to say.

‘I need help!’

CHAPTER FOUR

EVEN though it was the last thing she wanted to happen, the sound of the sirens in the distance were a welcome relief. The pain in Harriet’s stomach was so severe now she couldn’t even sit. All she could do was lie on the bench as the ambulance pulled up and the familiar faces of Max and Tara appeared, their green jumpsuits as familiar as her own nursing uniform, their tender professionalism everything she needed as they gently asked her what had happened.

‘I was unwell at work. The doctor thought I might have appendicitis…’

‘He let you go home?’ Tara asked, surprised, then gave a low laugh. ‘Or did Sister Farrell insist that she knew better?’

‘Something like that. I’m so sorry to drag you guys out. Maybe I should have called a taxi.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Max shook his head as he dragged the stretcher from the ambulance to the bus stop, having realised at a glance there was no way she could make the short walk to the ambulance. ‘We’ll get you in the warm vehicle and get a drip started. Here, have a few sucks on this before we move you.’

A plastic tube was handed to her and Harriet dragged on it, grateful for the short relief the painkiller offered as they slowly lifted her onto the stretcher and moved her into the ambulance.

‘Do we have to go local?’ Harriet asked, knowing the answer before it came.

‘It’s an emergency callout,’ Tara responded, concentrating on inserting the drip into Harriet’s hand. ‘We have to take you to the nearest hospital and, given that you’ve already been seen there by a doctor tonight, surely it makes sense…’ Seeing Harriet’s eyes fill with embarrassed tears, she changed track. ‘Your friends are there, Harriet, people who know and care about you. They’ll give you the five-star treatment. Surely that can only be good?’

But she didn’t want the five-star treatment. Instead, she wanted unknown faces treating an unknown patient, couldn’t bear the thought of having to answer the question that would surely be on everyone’s lips.

‘What were you doing at a bus stop?’

Over and over the question had been asked—by the paramedics, by Louise, who was still stuck on Triage, by the nursing supervisor as she’d directed the stretcher into cubicle one in an attempt to spare Harriet the indignity of the entire department seeing her brought in, by Susan, her concerned face looming over her as she pumped up the blood-pressure cuff. ‘You were supposed to be at home. Why on earth didn’t you just—?’

‘Enough!’

The single word, however sharply spoken, couldn’t disguise the thick accent, and as the staff finally melted away, Harriet closed her eyes in shame as Ciro stood over her. He’d already examined her on arrival and commenced treatment, but thankfully that was a distant vague blur, but now the fluids that were being delivered intravenously were starting to kick in and the oxygen being administered through nasal prongs was having the supposed desired effect, the world was starting to come back into focus. Harriet listened as he dismissed the gathered nurses and paramedics, waiting until the cubicle was vacant before finally she managed to peel her eyes open, bracing herself for the question she had heard incessantly since her arrival.

Instead, it was answered.

‘Your husband is staying in a hotel for work, and had you told me that you knew I wouldn’t have let you go home alone…’

Confused, Harriet blinked back at him.

‘You’ve had trouble with the phone since you moved in, haven’t you?’

‘Thank you.’ It was all she could manage, her voice strangling in her throat as Ciro dealt with the social absurdities that still mattered at times like this. ‘I just couldn’t bear everyone’s sympathy at the moment, the gossip that would start. I’m just so ashamed.’

‘Silly girl,’ Ciro said, but not unkindly, the backs of his fingers sweeping her forehead to check her temperature. ‘You should—’

‘Should have what, Ciro?’ Harriet interrupted. ‘I found my husband in bed with another woman. I was hardly going to ask them to move over so that I could lie down! What did you expect me to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’m just glad that you had the presence of mind to call for help when you did. Had you not called, your appendix might have ruptured and you would have been very ill indeed.’

‘It was either call for help or sit at the bus stop all night.’

‘Life will start to look up very soon.’

‘It has to.’ Sunken, dry eyes stared back at him. ‘After all, just how low can one person go?’

‘You should be asking Drew that, Harriet, not yourself.’

‘How did you know?’ she gulped. ‘I mean, how did you guess what had happened when I went home?’

He gave a vague shrug. ‘You said yourself that nothing was happening in the…’ His English wasn’t that good, but painfully she caught the drift. ‘It was stupid of me to send you home unannounced in the early hours of the the morning, given what you’d told me. I’m sorry,’ he added, as if this whole stupid mess was his fault. ‘It must have been awful for you.’

‘I was sick on the carpet.’ Why she was filling him in, Harriet had no idea, but somehow sharing the most embarrassing details made them seem less so. ‘I left it for him to clean up—told him that if he thought my job was so easy then he should try it.’

‘Good for you.’ A smile broke out on his face and even though she’d seen him smile before it was like witnessing it for the first time because now it was aimed entirely at her—his eyes softer now, intimate almost. Not for the first time that night, Harriet felt bewildered and confused, but for entirely different reasons.

Impossibly shy all of a sudden, she lowered her eyes. ‘Can I have some Maxalon now?’

‘You already have.’ He attempted a smile. ‘And a massive dose of pethidine. That’s why you’re able to talk. The surgeon is ready for you in Theatre. You’ll go to EHU afterwards. Unfortunately there aren’t any beds on the surgical ward, but I’m sure they’ll find you a side room tomorrow.’

EHU stood for Emergency Holding Unit, a rapid-turnover ward that acted as a holding bay for emergency patients when the wards were full, but Harriet couldn’t have cared less where she was admitted. At least she’d have a bed for a couple of days! All she wanted right now was for the pain in her stomach to go so she could focus on the pain in her heart.

‘Is there anyone you want me to call for you?’ Ciro asked, ever practical.

Harriet shook her head.

‘What about your parents?’

‘There’s only Mum, she lives in Perth.’ It was all she could manage, her lips almost numb, her mind curiously clear. ‘I don’t want to worry her.’

‘What about your husband?’ Ciro pressed gently. ‘He is your next of kin. Someone ought to know what’s happening to you.’

‘Please, don’t call him.’ She shook her head against the pillow. ‘I just don’t want to see him yet.’

‘OK,’ Ciro soothed. ‘I’m not going to do anything without your permission. But perhaps this may be the wake-up call he needs—’

‘It’s over,’ Harriet broke in, her voice the firmest it had been since her arrival in the department, her mind completely made up. ‘I’m just not up to telling the world yet. Oh, hell, Ciro, what am I—?’

‘Shh…’ His hand was back on her forehead, only this time he wasn’t checking her temperature. This time he was brushing back a couple of strands of hair, soothing her, pushing her back down to the foggy oblivion the pethidine afforded, that gorgeous full mouth, softly speaking, telling her that it would all be OK, that all she had to do was concentrate on getting well, to close her eyes and just go to sleep.

But she didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to close her eyes on the sweetest painkiller of them all.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘HARRIET?’

A million adolescents would have given their entire year’s pocket money to wake up to that face, but when Harriet opened her eyes all she wanted was to close them again. She’d been back from Theatre a few hours now, but had slept for the most part, vaguely acknowledging the absurdity that Alyssa, who she had cared for the previous night, now lay in the next bed to her. The world was way too confusing to face right now, but any chance of a longer reprieve from her problems faded as Drew’s face came into unwelcome view. Everything about him revolted her now—the blond hair he faithfully had streaked to capture the surfie look, the spray-on tan that was carefully shaded to accentuate his gym-toned muscles. Squinting to focus, Harriet stared at the man who had caused her so much pain, the previous night’s events pinging in with alarming clarity. She watched as he braced himself for her stinging words, but instead of accusations she said the first thing that sprang to her anaesthetic-riddled mind, with no offence meant, but not caring if it were taken.

‘You pluck your eyebrows.’

Irritated, he shook his head as he stood up and pulled the curtains around her, clearly not wanting the scene made public. ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘You do.’ Running a dry tongue over even drier lips, she stared at two perfectly formed arches. ‘They look nothing like they did when we were first married. Can you open the curtains, please?’

‘Let’s just keep them closed, can we? The kid in the next bed has been hounding me for my autograph.’

‘And did you give it to her?’

‘I came here to see you, Harriet, not make small talk with some kid.’

With one hand holding her tender stomach, she reached to the table over her bed, declining his outstretched hand and choosing to get the small cup of water herself.

‘The nurse said you should just have a small sip,’ Drew admonished, making to take the cup from her, but Harriet gripped it tightly.

‘And we all know the respect you have for nurses.’ Defiantly she took another long sip before placing the cup back on the table and gingerly lying back down.

‘How did you know I was here?’ she finally asked, disappointed that Ciro had broken her confidence, yet understanding why he might have thought he had to.

‘I got a call on my mobile, someone called Susan. She thought I was staying in some hotel or something…’ He tried to take her hand but she pulled it away. ‘From the way she was talking I gather that you didn’t tell them what had happened.’

‘Do you blame me?’

‘I’m sorry, Harriet.’

He even looked it, tears glistening in his eyes, running a worried hand through his tousled hair, but, she reminded herself firmly, Drew was an actor, able to cry on demand, able to play the part of guilt-ridden spouse to a T if last week’s episodes of his show were anything to go by.

‘Are you sorry that you got caught, Drew, or sorry that it’s over?’ When he didn’t speak, she did it for him, asked what she needed to know. ‘How long has it been going on, Drew? How long have you been seeing her?’

‘It meant nothing,’ he offered, clearly confused when she blinked at him in disbelief.

‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better? You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that the fact she meant nothing just cheapens our marriage even more.’

‘Please, Harriet, if you’ll just let me speak—’

‘I meant what I said last night, Drew. You can speak to me through my solicitor.’

‘You don’t have a solicitor,’ Drew pointed out. ‘Look, we have to work out what we’re going to say. You might not think it matters, but when this gets out it’s going to affect us both. Harriet!’ he pleaded when she shrugged her shoulders. ‘You couldn’t bring yourself to tell your colleagues, so do you really want them reading about it in the newspaper?’

‘I guess,’ Harriet sighed, ‘we’ll just say it was amicable, no hard feelings on either side. And if we’re going to lie, why not add that there was no one else involved?’

‘When will you get out?’

‘Tomorrow probably.’

‘So soon.’ He gave a small look of alarm. ‘I’ll move into the spare bedroom…’

‘There’s no point, Drew, I’m not coming home. I can’t go back there, not after what happened.’

‘Do you want me to move out?’

It was the first decent thing he’d done in the whole debacle but, staring up at the ceiling, Harriet shook her head.

‘But where will you go? Who’s going to take care of you?’

It was a good question, one she had been asking herself since she’d first come to, but even if her bravado was false, even if she was terrified of what lay ahead, she damn well wasn’t going to let him see that. Pale blue eyes were proud and defiant as she turned her head to face him.

‘That’s no longer your concern, Drew.’

‘Is there anything you want me to do?’

‘Pack me a case.’ Swallowing hard, determined not to cry in front of him, she struggled to keep her voice even. ‘Just drop it off at the nurses’ station.’

‘Anything else?’ And maybe he wasn’t acting now, because his nose was actually running and there were tears in his eyes as maybe, somewhere deep inside, the ramifications hit home, that the Harriet he had known for so long now could never, ever forgive this. ‘Is there anything else you want?’

‘Nothing.’ She turned her face away, feeling a tear slide down the side of her face and into the pillow as an unwitting nurse swished open the curtain and Drew walked away. Harriet couldn’t really believe how much her life had changed in a few short hours, that after all this time her marriage really was over.

And as superficial and selfish as he could be at times, Drew wasn’t a complete bastard. Underneath all his hype there was still a glimmer of the man she had married, the man she had once loved. As he walked out Harriet heard Alyssa’s breathless voice call his name, listened with a pensive tiny smile as, even though he must be hurting too, he did the decent thing in the end—he stopped for a short chat.

Made another girl’s day.

‘Please, don’t tell me that I’m better off without him.’ Putting her hand over her face, trying to hold it all in, she didn’t even have the emotional strength to be embarrassed when Ciro walked in to check on the patients he had admitted overnight before finally heading home. The last thing she needed was a few empty platitudes. ‘Because I know that I am. I know it’s been over for ages. It’s just…’

‘Hard?’ Ciro offered, and Harriet nodded from behind her hand.

‘It gets better, I promise.’

‘How would you know?’ It wasn’t a particularly gracious response but she was past caring.

‘Because I’ve been there, very recently actually.’

Fingers parting, she peered out at him.

‘Were you married?’

‘No.’

‘Did you have surgery the night you found your partner in bed with someone else?’

‘No.’

‘Were your family on the other side of the country?’

‘No.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re going through, have I? I’ll shut up now.’

She gave a thin smile.

‘How you are you feeling?’

‘It’s painful, of course, but not as much as I expected it to be.’

‘I wasn’t speaking as your doctor, I was asking how you were feeling.’

Pale eyes squinted up at him. ‘As I said, it’s painful, of course, but not as much as I expected it to be.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t have to be.’

‘Is there anything that you need?’

Harriet shook her head. ‘Drew’s going to pack a case for me.’ She registered his frown. ‘He offered to move out, but I told him I don’t want to go back there. I’ll go and sort out my things when I’m more up to it.’

‘So what will you do now? Where will you go?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Harriet said with rather more confidence than she felt. She wanted him to just go, couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in his eyes. ‘Could you pull the curtains as you leave?’

And maybe some of it had been lost in translation, because Ciro did pull the curtains, but remained beside her bed, staring down at her for a while before finally talking.

‘Harriet, what will you do when you are discharged? I mean, who will look after you? Are you going to stay with a friend?’

Why wouldn’t he just leave it, why did he have to just keep pushing, making her feel like some sort of social misfit? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have friends, but, given the fact she’d only been in Sydney six months, they were hardly close enough to ask if she could borrow their spare room to recuperate. But instead of explaining, Harriet gave a tight shrug.

‘What about Judith?’

‘Judith?’ Harriet gave a slightly incredulous laugh.

‘She speaks very highly of you.’

‘Since when were you and Judith on speaking terms?’

‘I telephoned her last night about an hour after she went off duty.’ Ciro shrugged. ‘Our altercation left me with an aftertaste.’ Harriet didn’t even attempt to correct him, his poor English didn’t matter. That he had taken the time to call Judith and set the record straight, even though she had treated him so rudely, had her blinking in awe at his insight. ‘She said that you had already spoken to her and she was feeling much better.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘We both apologised.’

‘She’s as soft as butter really.’ Harriet smiled fondly.

‘And she was most concerned about you when she arrived on duty.’

‘I’m not asking Judith if I can stay with her,’ Harriet responded firmly. ‘I’ll check into a motel or something.’

‘Look,’ he said, as if it were open for discussion, as if she’d actually asked for his help, ‘I’m staying in serviced apartments. They’re very nice, right on the beach, there’s a gym, a pool.’

‘I’m recovering from an operation,’ Harriet snapped. ‘I’m hardly up for an aerobic workout.’

‘The rooms are serviced daily, the beds made, the dishes done—at least you could concentrate on yourself. Why don’t you think about it? It really is a good idea.’