The Surgeon's Gift

‘They’re ready for you.’ Helen gave an encouraging smile as she came out of the office. Stepping in, Rachael felt a million miles away from the nervous wreck that had started the shift only hours earlier.

‘Be gentle with me, guys.’ She smiled before she started her handover. ‘I haven’t done it in ages.’

A few cat-calls showed that one thing that definitely hadn’t changed was the below-the-belt humour of nurses, and with the help of an encouraging wink or two from a couple of old colleagues Rachael handed over her patients to the care of the night staff.

‘They didn’t eat you alive, then?’ Helen asked as Rachael pulled out her hair tie and slipped on her jacket.

‘They were fine. Everyone’s been great.’

‘So we’ll see you back here tomorrow?’

Rachael nodded. ‘Thanks, Helen.’ As she went to go, her colleague called her back.

‘Drop these into the doctors’ office on the way past, would you? Hugh just buzzed for them.’

There was no getting out of it. Rachael hesitated before knocking. Hugh’s blond head was turned from her as he tapped away on the computer. Opening the door, she slipped the papers on the desk. ‘Helen said you needed these.’

Not waiting for an answer, she started to leave.

‘Rachael, about this afternoon …’

‘Let’s not go there, huh?’ She really didn’t want to end the day on a confrontational note. All she wanted to do now was go home, peel off her uniform and slip into a warm bath. Rowing with Hugh again was way down on her list of priorities, but realising, in the name of patient of care, that something needed to be said if they were going to work effectively together, after only the slightest pause Rachael swallowed her pride. ‘I’m sorry for earlier. I think we got off to a bad start. Maybe we can start afresh tomorrow?’

The bitter pill of apologising was made sweeter by his quick response. ‘I’d like that.’ He had swung his chair around to face her now. ‘I’m sorry as well. Some of my comments were uncalled-for. I’m sure I just got it all wrong. Helen’s been singing your praises, and she’s a pretty good judge of character.’

‘I hope so, because she’s been saying the same about you.’

Hugh laughed. ‘So we’re both perfect—is it any wonder we clashed? Anyway, I’ve held you up long enough. No doubt you’re desperate to get back to your baby.’

Turning to go, her hand stayed on the doorhandle. She felt rather than heard him turn back to the computer and though she didn’t want to do it, Rachael also knew that it was time. If they were going to have any chance of working together as a team, then some things were just best out in the open.

‘Hugh …’ The tapping on the keyboard stopped. ‘I’m not saying this to make you feel awkward …’ He swung back to face her, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at her face.

‘Whatever’s wrong? I thought we’d decided to start afresh tomorrow, the rows forgotten.’

She nodded, biting hard on her lip, taking a moment to compose herself before she answered as Hugh watched her quizzically. ‘I know that. Look, I didn’t say anything to Hailey because she’s only going to be here for the next couple of days so it didn’t seem fair to upset her, but you and I are going to be working together a lot …’

‘Rachael, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘I know.’ There was an awful silence … Hugh waiting for her explanation, Rachael wondering just how best to give it.

‘I did have a little girl,’ she started. ‘Her name was Amy.’ She watched as his quizzical look vanished, replaced instead by a look of cold shock, horror even, as he registered the past tense in her words. ‘And, as I said to Hailey, she was beautiful.’

‘Was?’ Hugh’s voice was more a croak, and he involuntarily winced as she nodded.

‘She was stillborn.’

Strong hands were around her then, guiding her to a chair, gently pushing her down onto the solid seat behind her.

‘Sorry.’ Rachael spoke softly.

‘Don’t say sorry.’ His voice was slightly breathless as he grappled to respond to her, the wind knocked out of his sails. ‘It should be me saying sorry, Rachael. I had no idea.’

‘Of course you didn’t, no one ever does. You go off on maternity leave and everyone just assumes that you’ve had a wonderfully healthy baby and you’re going to break into a spiel about sleepless nights and nappy rash.’

‘But why didn’t you just say something? I mean, Hailey was banging on about babysitters.’ He winced as he recalled the conversation. ‘It must have been agony for you.’

‘It was.’ Rachael let out a low laugh but they both knew it was void of any humour. ‘Look, Hugh, how are you feeling now?’

‘Me?’ He stared at her, bemused.

‘How do you feel now that I’ve told you?’

‘Awful,’ he admitted. Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. ‘And really sad for you.’

‘Imagine how Hailey would feel. Imagine how she’d have felt if I’d turned around and told her the truth. She only meant well, she was just being nice.’

‘But you can’t go around not telling people just so you don’t hurt them,’ Hugh argued. ‘So that you don’t make them feel awful. What about your pain, what about how you feel?’

‘It was a one-off.’ Rachael gave a shrug. His hand was still wrapped around hers and she fixed her eyes on them, not embarrassed at the contact, if anything, slightly comforted. ‘Hopefully the next time a patient recognises me, if ever, I’ll be a bit more …’ she searched for the right word. ‘A bit more … . Oh, I don’t know, not so prone to bursting into hysterical tears perhaps.’

‘Feel free.’ Hugh’s free hand delved into his suit, pulling out a heavy navy silk handkerchief, which he pressed into her hand. She stared at it for a moment or two, and then shook her head.

‘I’ll be all right.’

‘I’m sure you will, but there’s nothing wrong in crying.’

Again she shook her head. ‘Accepting,’ she gave a sniff. ‘That’s the word I meant. Next time I have to tell a patient, I’ll be more accepting of the fact.’ His eyes were on her his hand still holding hers as she prattled on. ‘There are five stages of grief apparently, and acceptance is the final one.’

‘Where are you now?’ His voice was gentle, more an echo of her own thoughts really.

‘Well, I’m past the denial stage, so I guess I’ve moved on to anger,’ Rachael said with a trembling voice. ‘Maybe the textbooks do get it right sometimes, because angry just about sums me up at the moment. I’m angry for me and I’m angry for Amy, for all she’s missed out on and all the pain I’ve been through. It’s nearly been a year now.’ She nibbled at her lower lip and fiddled with the handkerchief in her hand as he still held her. ‘That’s a long time to be angry.’ Brown eyes, devoid of tears yet steeped in pain, finally looked up, and she found herself staring back into his infinitely understanding ones. ‘I think I must be stuck at number two. Maybe I’m a slow learner.’

‘Maybe you’ve got a lot to be angry about?’

A tiny nod was all she could manage, coupled with a loud blow into the handkerchief, the silk cool against her face. It smelt of Hugh, smelt of expensive aftershave and extravagance, and it would have been so easy to bury her face in it, to lay her head on that expensively suited shoulder and give way to the tears that were dangerously close. So very easy, but so very scary. ‘I’d better go.’ Standing, she retrieved her bag from the floor.

‘You’ll be all right—driving home, I mean?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ The brittle smile was back. She held out the handkerchief then, realising she had used it, hastily stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket. ‘I’ll wash and return it.’

Hugh gave a tiny shrug. ‘There’s no need. I’ll survive without it.’

All of a sudden Rachael felt embarrassed, embarrassed and exposed. No doubt Hugh thought she was used to this type of thing, used to baring her soul.

But she wasn’t.

To date this was as close as she’d come. As close as she had been to breaking down and exposing the depths of her grief.