‘You haven’t touched your tea,’ he said, and she let him change the subject and picked up the mug, giving him room, not crowding him. He hated emotion, and he was awash with it today, trying hard to hang together through all the horror of it. It was all right for her, she thought, her eyes welling. She could cry her eyes out and everyone would sympathise, but Nick—Nick had to stay aloof and distant, hold himself back, because for him, today was judgement day.
And, boy, would they be judging, and talking, and there would be plenty to say. Nick had been well and truly married twelve years ago, at the time of Jem’s conception, and the good people of Penhally held no truck with infidelity. When they found out…
Not that it mattered now. The only thing that mattered now was that her son—their son, she corrected herself—survived this, and lived long enough for Nick to build a relationship with him. She wondered what they were doing to him at this precise instant, and decided she’d rather not know. Midwife or not, there were things one didn’t need to see.
She pressed her hand against her heart, and realised it hurt. It was tender where the seat belt had tugged tight in the accident, pulling on her lumpectomy scar and the still fragile skin where the radiotherapy had burned it, and she suddenly felt very uncertain. Dr Bower had given her the all-clear from her breast cancer in January, but it was very much an ‘it’s OK for now’ result, and there were no guarantees for the future.
And if anything happened to her, Jem would need Nick. Assuming he survived—
‘Nick, drink your tea,’ she said, slamming the brakes on that thought, and he sat down beside her again and picked up the mug and took a mouthful, toying with the biscuits, crushing them to dust between his fingers, crumbling them all over the table.
‘Josh O’Hara’s a friend of Jack’s from London,’ he said out of the blue. ‘I gather he’s red hot. Ben used to work with him as well. That’s why he sounded him out about the vacancy. And Ben won’t let anything happen to Jeremiah—’
The door opened and Ben came in, and she dropped her mug onto the table with a clatter, fear suddenly closing her throat.
‘How is he?’ she asked, barely able to find the words. ‘Is he—?’
‘He’s stable, his blood pressure’s low but holding, so Josh and the anaesthetist have taken him to CT now to rule out any other injuries, then he’ll be going straight up to Theatre. And we need to check you over. Come on.’
She tried to stand, and suddenly realised how weak she felt, how uncooperative her legs were, how very long she’d been holding her breath. She wasn’t really listening any longer. All she’d heard was ‘He’s stable’, and her mind had gone blank, unable to take in any more than this one, most important, fact.
Relief was crashing through her, scattering the last shreds of her control; she sucked in some air, but it wouldn’t come, not smoothly, not sensibly, just in little jerky sobs, faster and faster, until at last the dam burst and she felt Nick’s arms close around her, holding her firmly against a broad, solid chest that felt so good, so safe that she wanted to stay there for ever, because if she leant on him, if she stayed there, then surely it would be all right…
Nick stood there for a second—scarcely that, but it felt like an age before he came to life again and his hands gentled, cradling her head against his shoulder, holding her against his heart as he rocked and shushed her.
She must be going through hell, he thought, and then it hit him that this wasn’t just her son, but his, too. Emotions slammed through him one after the other, but he crushed them down. There’d be time for them later. For now, he just had to be here for Kate, for as long as she needed him.
‘Why don’t you go and let them take the blood?’ Ben suggested, once Kate had stopped crying and been mopped up and taken through to X-Ray. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’
‘Isn’t Lucy expecting you home?’
He smiled again. ‘She was—two hours ago. Don’t worry, I’ve told her what’s going on.’
‘All of it?’ he asked, his heart jerking against his ribs, but Ben shook his head.
‘No. I thought I’d let you or Jack do that.’
‘She’ll be disappointed in me.’
‘I don’t know,’ Ben said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe a little, at first, but she’s said before how well you and Kate get on, and she knows you went out with her before you met Annabel, so I don’t think she’ll be exactly surprised to know you had an affair. In fact, she said only the other week that you ought to get together, now you were both free.’
His laugh sounded hollow to his ears. ‘I hope she’s not holding her breath for that. Kate’s going. She’s handed in her notice—she’s leaving Penhally.’
‘Wow.’ Ben frowned. ‘That’s a big step.’
He shrugged. ‘She told me today—well, she left a letter for me.’
She hadn’t even told him to his face. That hurt, but he put it on one side, like all the other feelings that were swamping him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said, and Nick blinked in surprise and met his eyes.
‘Why should you be sorry?’
‘You tell me,’ Ben said softly, and Nick looked away from eyes that saw too much.
‘She’s blaming herself. She said she didn’t see any lights, and she pulled out.’
Ben accepted the change of subject without a murmur. ‘Visibility was awful, apparently, and I gather the other guy not only didn’t have his lights on but he was speeding significantly, according to witnesses. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt, either, and the car wasn’t taxed. He’s in overnight for observation, and the police have been in to talk to him already. It definitely wasn’t Kate’s fault. I need to check her out. You go down to Haematology and I’ll see you when you come back.’
He nodded, and walked quickly down to Haematology to give the blood they would process and give to Jeremiah later, after his surgery, after he was stable. God willing. Jack was standing at the reception desk waiting, and turned to him, his eyes raking over Nick’s face.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, and Nick nodded.
‘Yes. Ben’s taking a look at Kate.’
‘Have you eaten recently?’
Nick nearly laughed. For a moment there, he’d thought his son was enquiring after his emotional well-being, but, no, he was checking that he was OK to donate.
‘Lunch,’ he said, trying to remember and recalling a sandwich of some sort. He’d left half of it, and it seemed a long time ago. It had been a long time ago. He should have eaten Hazel’s fairings instead of leaving them for Mr Pengelly. ‘They gave us tea and biscuits in A and E, but I didn’t have them.’
‘Here.’ Jack handed him a small packet of biscuits from his pocket. ‘Eat those, and get a drink from that water cooler, otherwise you’ll pass out when they take the blood from you.’
And without another word Jack turned back to the desk and spoke to the haematology technician who’d just come to find him. Nick followed them, grabbing a cup of water on the way, and then lay in the next cubicle to his son, the curtain between them firmly closed, while the technician set up the intravenous line and started collecting his blood.
‘Can you be quick? I need to get back,’ he said, and she smiled.
‘It’s a good job you’re a regular donor, Dr Tremayne,’