‘I divorced Tom Landers soon after she was born and I haven’t seen him since. Nor do I want to. It’s just Hetta and me. If she dies, there’s nothing left for me-nothing, nothing! No hope, or happiness, or anything to believe in. Without her, there’s no reason to go on.’
As if in a dream he said, ‘And yet it is possible to survive terrible grief. Even if all happiness has died, you can find a way to go on.’
There was a strange note in his voice that told her the words were wrenched from the depths of his own heart. Her head jerked up. Looking straight into his eyes, she saw there everything he’d tried to deny. He’d known her from the first moment. Of course he had.
He strove to recover, engulfing her hands in his strong ones. ‘Trust me,’ he said firmly. ‘I will always do everything I can for her-and for you.’
Abruptly he dropped her hands and stepped back. ‘I’ll go and get scrubbed up. My assistant does the first part, and they’ll need me in about half an hour.’ He met her eyes again. ‘I’ll bring her back to you. I promise.’
He walked away without another word. Elinor watched him go, pressing her hands to her mouth, biting back the words she wanted to cry out.
She pulled herself together. That was years ago. They were different people, and Andrew hadn’t reacted to her because their past was unimportant to him. And that was right, because only Hetta mattered now.
Hours passed. Elinor was oblivious to them although she later learned the operation had taken two and a half hours. But minutes were different. She felt every second of every endless minute.
Outside the windows the darkness began to turn to grey as the night passed. She didn’t see it, nor the opening of the door. She’d gone too far into another world where there was only suffering and hope, and was aware of nothing until a cup of tea appeared on the low table before her, and Andrew sat down in a nearby chair. He was still in his operating clothes.
‘All done,’ he said briefly. ‘It went like a dream. She should make a complete recovery.’
‘Really? Honestly?’
‘I wouldn’t say so if it wasn’t true.’
Elinor buried her face in her hands and sat shaking in silence. He sipped his tea, pretending not to notice.
‘Can I go to her?’ she asked, raising her head at last.
‘In a minute. They’re taking her into Intensive Care, and you can go there and be with her when she comes round.’
‘Did you really let her keep that smelly old toy all the time?’
He shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be practical. But I never distress a child by saying so. I tell them what they want to hear, take the toy away when they’ve gone under, then make sure it’s with them when they wake up. It’s a deception, but it makes them happy and, I believe, helps them pull through.’
‘You must have a gift for children.’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. It’s just a trick Elmer taught me. Drink your tea, and then I’ll take you to her. Have you got strong nerves?’ He shot out the question abruptly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll be shocked by the sight. She’s attached to a dozen machines and they look terrifying, but they’re there to help her. When she wakes up don’t let her see you’re upset. Bursting into tears is the worst possible thing for her.’
‘I don’t burst into tears,’ Elinor said quietly. ‘I did when she first became ill. Not any more.’
‘Of course. I shouldn’t have said that to you,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m sorry.’
She wanted to say that he had nothing to be sorry for, but he’d already risen and was walking away, calling, ‘Come along,’ over his shoulder.
A young nurse admitted them to the intensive care unit and led them to a bed in the far corner. Despite her brave words Elinor experienced a reaction when she saw Hetta, lying still, attached to what seemed like a dozen machines. For a moment she couldn’t move while she fought back the tears.
‘Steady,’ Andrew said quietly beside her. ‘Take a deep breath.’
‘I’m all right,’ she said at last. ‘It’s just-her colour-’ Hetta was a cross between yellow and grey.
‘Everyone is that colour at this stage,’ Andrew said. ‘I know it looks bad, but it’s not worrying. Come over and let me explain the machines, then they won’t seem so bad. These monitor her heartbeat, her blood pressure, the amount of painkiller she’s being given. This one is feeding her through a drip, this one is giving her a blood transfusion.’
‘That pipe fixed in her mouth-?’
‘It goes to this machine here that’s doing her breathing for her. Soon she’ll be ready to come off it and take control of her own breathing.’
He went on talking, and Elinor lost track of the individual words. What continued to reach her was the quiet kindliness of his voice, calming her fears, offering her the equivalent of a steadying hand.
But suddenly his voice grew sharper as he demanded, ‘Where’s Samson?’
‘Who?’ The young nurse was staring as if he’d gone crazy.
‘Samson. He’s a toy bear. He must be here when she wakes up. Call the operating theatre. Find out what they did with him.’ He was rapping out commands now.
The nurse made the call and elicited the information that Samson had been put aside and gone missing.
‘Tell them to find him or heads will roll,’ Andrew snapped.
‘But, sir-’
‘I promised that child, and if the promise is broken it could impede her recovery. I don’t intend that to happen. Understood?’
The nurse threw him an alarmed look and turned back to the phone.
‘Don’t worry,’ Andrew told Elinor. ‘This will get sorted.’
Samson arrived a few minutes later, much the worse for wear, having fallen on the floor and been kicked into a corner by the busy operating staff. Andrew eyed him, recognising the impossibility of putting this filthy object into Hetta’s arms.
‘Nurse, have you got some disinfectant soap?’ he asked. ‘Strong.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Get it, please.’
The nurse hurried back with the soap, but was immediately summoned to another bed. Her face said the washing of toys wasn’t part of her job on such a high-tension ward.
‘I’ll do it,’ Elinor said.
‘There’s a wash basin attached to the wall over there,’ Andrew said. ‘You can keep Hetta in your sights all the time.’
She hurried across and got to work on Samson, who rapidly became his original bright yellow colour. Even his daft smile seemed to have brightened. As she worked Elinor sometimes glanced over to Hetta, where Andrew was still checking the machines. He seemed satisfied, she noted with relief. Then he looked up, saw her watching, gave a brief nod and strode off.
Elinor crept back to Hetta’s side, clutching the damp toy. One of the nurses produced a chair for her. Then there was a light touch on her shoulder. It was another nurse, holding something out to her.
‘It belongs to Mr Blake’s secretary,’ she said. ‘She keeps it in the office. He said to lend it to you.’
It was a hair-dryer. He’d even thought of that.
Elinor turned the dryer onto Samson until he was bone-dry, then slipped him gently under Hetta’s hand. At once the little fingers flexed and tightened around him, although she gave no other sign of life.
Time ticked past. Hetta lay motionless, tiny, seemingly fixed like this for ever.
Andrew arrived again and spoke to the nurse. ‘Let’s see if she can breathe by herself. Would you mind standing back, please?’ This to Elinor.
She got out of their way and watched tensely as the great tube was untied and drawn out of Hetta’s mouth. There was a moment when the world seemed to stand still, then her chest heaved and she gave a big sigh.
‘Excellent,’ Andrew said. ‘Couldn’t be better. Mrs Landers, you should go and have some breakfast.’
‘How can I leave her?’
