She took the phone into the bathroom with her and because she didn’t have any bubble bath, she used shampoo, put on a load of washing while she was waiting for the bath to fill and every time the phone rang, she did not pick up.
And then she did her hair, straightened it and put on blusher and lipstick too, even though she knew Dominic was on call and wouldn’t be coming round. Then when her phone finally fell silent, she tackled her bedroom, worked out how to use a stud finder and put up the shelves that had been sitting in cardboard for way too long. Then the phone bleeped a text and it was from Dominic.
She took a breath and read it.
Op went well—he’s back on ward and having a drink. Home tomoz.
She felt the tension seep out of her.
Should I come in now?
She was quite sure what the response would be, that he’d tell her to stay put, that Courtney was there and to let her deal with it, but as she waited for his reply, there was a knock at the door and when her phone bleeped he didn’t say what she’d thought he might.
No, stay put—your mum’s with him.
She wanted to know what was happening so badly. She had this stupid vision it was him as, phone in hand, she opened the door.
Instead it was her father and Courtney.
IT WAS a long night and he was glad when it hit six a.m. and there were just a couple of hours to go.
‘Cot Four.’ Karan, the night nurse, looked up from the baby she was feeding. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Dominic said, and headed in.
He took off his jacket, glanced again at Harry, who sitting there staring, and then proceeded to wash his hands. When he turned around, Harry was smiling. Dominic couldn’t help himself from looking at the pull-out bed beside him, relieved to see that Betty was there.
He didn’t know what had happened.
He’d heard the explosions from the fuse he’d lit when he’d asked for a favour from Raymond and a certain blue-eyed theatre nurse, but he’d been up and down between here and NICU and had never caught up as to what had really gone on.
He smiled back at Harry and then headed over to the cot opposite him, carefully examining the baby who was causing concern, pleased with her progress.
‘How’s Harry Joyce?’ he asked Karan. He had every right to enquire as he was the paediatrician on call that night and Karan wouldn’t know that he had stepped aside from the case.
‘He’s doing well.’ Karan smiled. ‘You could see the difference in him almost as soon as he came back from Theatre. He must have been struggling with his ears for a while. He’s much more smiley and he’s making a few more noises, even had a little dance in his cot. He’s off home in the morning to the care of Mum.’ She pulled out a notebook. ‘Hold on a moment. Sorry, he’s home with his aunt tomorrow. There was a big case meeting today apparently. Lots of drama.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I haven’t had a chance to read the notes yet.’ She stood up and collected the folder and put it in front of him. ‘Should make interesting reading.’
Karan walked back to the nursery to put down the baby she had been feeding and Dominic sat there, tempted to read the notes, to find out all that had gone on. It would be so easy to. ‘So this is your last morning.’ Tony stopped by the desk, just as Dominic went to open the folder. Tony had been up and used the parent showers before all the others did, was dressed and ready for when Abuela came in.
‘It is,’ Dominic said. ‘I’m flying to Sydney this afternoon.’
‘Well, thanks again.’ Tony stifled a yawn.
‘You must be exhausted.’ It was Dominic who extended the conversation.
‘Ah, but it’s Saturday,’ Tony said. ‘I’m going home to sleep. That’s if the twins and Esperanza let me.’
‘You’ve got a lot on your plate,’ Dominic said, but Tony just grinned.
‘Better than an empty plate.’
Dominic stood up and shook Tony’s hand and when Tony had gone he stepped away from the notes. Bridgette didn’t deserve her ex reading up on her private life. If he wanted to know, he should ask her.
‘HARRY!’ She took him into her arms and wrapped him in a hug, truly delighted to have him home. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’ And she carried him in to what had been her study as well as Courtney’s room and spare room. The cot had been folded and put away (well, it had been neatly put away under Bridgette’s bed till she hauled it to the charity shop on Monday) and the bed that had been under a pile of ironing now had a little safety rail, new bedding and a child’s bedside light. There were new curtains, a new stash of bricks in a toy box and an intercom was all set up.
‘You’ve been busy,’ her mum said when she saw Harry’s new bedroom. ‘Isn’t he a bit young for a bed?’
‘Well, at least he can’t climb out of it. I’ll just have to make sure I close the bedroom door or he’ll be roaming the place at night.’
‘It looks lovely.’ Betty smiled at her daughter. ‘I’m sorry that we haven’t been much help.’
‘You have been,’ Bridgette said, because she couldn’t stand her parents’ guilt and they had probably been doing their best.
‘No,’ her mum corrected. ‘We’ve been very busy burying our heads in the sand, trying to pretend that everything was okay, when clearly it wasn’t. We’re going to be around for you much more, and Harry too.’
‘And Courtney?’ Bridgette watched her mother’s lips purse. ‘She needs your support more than anyone.’
‘We’re paying for rehab,’ Betty said.
‘It’s not going to be an instant fix,’ Bridgette said, but she didn’t go on. She could see how tired her parents looked, not from recent days but from recent years. ‘We can get through this, Mum,’ Bridgette said, ‘if we all help each other.’
‘What about you, though?’ It was the first time her father had really spoken since they’d arrived. ‘What about that young man of yours, the one in Sydney?’
‘Let’s not talk about that, Dad.’ It hurt too much to explore at the moment. It was something she wanted to examine and think about in private—when she had calmed down fully, when she was safely alone, then she would deal with all she had lost for her sister, again. But her father was finally stepping up, as she had asked him to, and not burying his head in the sand as he usually did—which was a good thing, though perhaps not right now.
‘We need to discuss it, Bridgette.’ He sat down and looked her square in the eye. ‘We didn’t know you were serious about someone.’
‘It never really got a chance to be serious,’ Bridgette said.
‘We should have had Harry more.’
Yes, you bloody should have, she wanted to say, but that wasn’t fair on