A Child to Heal Them Page 4

  She sighed, thinking back to her first placement. The one that had almost made her quit. The out-of-control kids, their jeering and taunts. It had reminded her of how she’d felt once before.

  ‘The first one was awful. They send you out on two-week placements during training. It was like putting a kitten in front of a pack of baying, rabid dogs. The students were awful. Teenage boys. Laughing and disrespectful. On my first day I ended up running from the room in tears.’

  She didn’t add that she’d felt particularly raw to teasing from teenage boys. Surely he must understand that? That she’d been weakened by him from the get-go and had never stood a chance? How it had made her feel like she was Nit-Nat all over again.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, was it?’

  But maybe it was? Maybe he’d made her ripe for the picking? Those boys had sensed her nerves. Her weakness. One of her first lecturers had talked about showing no fear. Said that some kids were like packs of hyenas, looking to wear a newbie teacher down.

  ‘No, but...’

  ‘My second placement was much better. Great kids—attentive. Determined to do well. The contrast in the two places really surprised me, but it was a lesson for me to persevere. I could so easily have given up after that first experience, but I think, in a way, that you toughened me up. I was determined to carry on and succeed. Lippy teenage boys weren’t going to ruin my life.’

  He nodded. Smiled. ‘Lippy teenage boys are mostly cowards. Perhaps the only way they knew to deal with someone better than them, was to try and tear them down.’

  She smiled back. ‘Well, they failed.’

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ He was solemn.

  ‘What was it like the first time you had to treat a patient?’

  He laughed, clearly relieved that the conversation had taken a brighter turn. ‘Awful! I took the patient’s history okay, but then I had to take a blood sample. Something I’d done in practice many times, that I thought I was good at, but I couldn’t find a vein. The guy was like a voodoo doll by the time I’d finished with him.’

  She smiled, imagining it. Remembering the first time she’d taken blood from a real, live patient. She’d actually done okay, even though her hands had been shaking with nerves. And her patient, a wonderful old lady, had been so kind to her. ‘Everyone has to learn, ducky,’ she’d said.

  ‘Ever lost someone?’

  The question just came out, and the second it did—the second she realised what she’d said out loud—her cheeks flamed hot. Why had she said that? Why had she asked? Of course he was going to say yes. Every doctor had had someone die on them.

  ‘Too many,’ he answered politically. Non-specific. No details. Answering but not telling her anything. ‘It’s hard. You tell yourself you’re ready. Your lecturers and mentors try to prepare you. But...’

  Tasha stared at the road ahead, terracotta sand and rocks, scrubby bushes and thorny trees. A chorus of insects could be heard faintly above the roar of the engine.

  ‘You can never be ready for loss.’

  She looked at him. At the rigid set of his bristled jaw. His knuckles tight upon the steering wheel. He’d been the one who had first introduced her to loss. To pain and grief. She’d thought she’d known what that was, not having parents. But he’d provided her with insight into another kind with his hurtful words.

  Perhaps he was right? Perhaps he had been a coward? Afraid to let his friend Dex see him as someone else.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘You can’t.’

  * * *

  The village of Mosa hoved into view just after four in the afternoon. It wasn’t big—twenty or thirty homes at the most. Large brown cattle grazed by the side of the dirt road and the villagers working in the fields stopped their work to stare at the truck as they drove past. They probably didn’t get a lot of visitors.

  Quinn parked the truck and they all got out gladly, pleased to stretch their legs and work the kinks from their muscles. It hadn’t been a long drive, but it had been a hot one, with the air-conditioning in the truck temperamental.

  Tasha smiled at one of the villagers. ‘Hello. My name is Tasha, and this is Dr Shapiro and his two nurses. We’re looking for Ada Balewa.’

  The villager stared at her for a moment, and then silently pointed to a hut further down.

  She beamed a smile. ‘Thank you.’

  Together they walked down the track, towards the primitive hut that had been indicated.

  ‘Ada Balewa?’ she called out.

  A small woman emerged from the depths of the hut, wrapped in a brown dress, frowning. ‘Yes? Ah! Miss Tasha!’

  Tasha smiled and greeted Ada with a hug. ‘You’re looking well.’

  The other woman frowned again. ‘Yes, I am, but I do not think that is why you are here.’

  This was the part that Tasha had been dreading.

  ‘Abeje is poorly. She was bitten by a mosquito and now she’s sick with malaria. We have her in a hospital ship, but we thought maybe there might be some other people sick here. Can you tell us if anyone has a fever?’

  Ada nodded. ‘Yes. A boy and a girl.’

  ‘Could we see them? We’ve brought medicine.’

  ‘I will take you to them.’

  They followed Ada—Tasha, Quinn and the two nurses, Maria and Rob. As they walked Ada asked about Abeje. Tasha told her what she could. That everything was being done for her.

  ‘I wish I could see her.’

  ‘If there’s room we could take you back with us.’

  ‘I have my own children here. Crops to tend. I cannot leave.’

  ‘Then try not to worry. We’ll do our best for her.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The boy and girl that Ada had spoken of were brother and sister. The boy twelve, the younger girl nine. They were sweating and had been sick.

  Quinn was quickly by their side. ‘Let’s do the rapid tests—double-check this is what we think it is. In the meantime let’s get them on IVs so they don’t dehydrate.’

  Tasha stood back and watched him work. He was a true professional. She’d seen it before with Abeje and now she saw it again as he cared for these two siblings side by side. They were conscious, so he spoke to them, keeping his words simple in case their English wasn’t good. He smiled. Explained what he was doing. Told them not to be afraid.

  Even if they didn’t understand his words they would at least understand his kind, caring tone. His unthreatening behaviour. His empathy and desire to help. It was good for her to see it. This side of him. It gave her hope.

  She wished she could do more. Instead she silently watched as he worked, anticipating and expecting his every move. His care of the two siblings was exactly what she would have done herself. It was hard to stand back and do nothing.

  The rapid tests confirmed malaria so he started the anti-malarials. When he’d done, he turned back to Ada. ‘Is anyone else sick?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I really don’t want to leave these children here. They need urgent care. Would you allow me to take them back to the ship?’

  Ada nodded. ‘I will speak to their parents.’

  She disappeared from the hut.

  Tasha stood in the doorway, afraid to stay, afraid to leave. ‘Is it wise to move them right now?’

  He frowned. ‘We won’t do it straight away. I’d like them to get fluids on board first. We might have to stay here the night. Give them time to rest...get them stable before we move them.’

  She’d known it might be a possibility when she came, but she’d hoped they’d be lucky enough to escape with a quick visit. Now she would have to spend the night out here with Quinn.

  Tasha gave him a nervous smile. ‘I’ll go and tell Rob. Maybe get started on setting up those tents?’

  She went to find the nurse.
Rob was standing by the truck with Maria. It looked as if they were counting the medicines.

  ‘There’s more than enough here to inoculate the entire village.’

  Tasha smiled. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘It’s probably best if we gather everyone in the same spot to explain what we want to do. Then we can set up a line and treat everyone.’

  She nodded. It did seem the best idea. ‘I told Quinn we’d get the tents set up for an overnight stay, too.’

  ‘Good idea. Perhaps we all ought to get something to eat, as well,’ Maria added.

  The tents went up easily—even though Tasha had never put one up in her life. Rob was clear on the instructions and they worked well together as a team. Tasha cracked open some bottles of water, so they could hydrate underneath the hot African sun. Even though it was evening, and everything was a little cooler, they still poured with sweat.

  She looked out over the horizon at the vast emptiness, the grey, stony mountains in the distance. It was so different here from in Ntembe. At the port city there was always a sea breeze blowing in—there always seemed to be air and noise and life. Here in Mosa it seemed more solitary, more empty. Quieter. She missed the busyness of people. The safety of numbers.

  As she hugged her arms to herself Quinn came to stand alongside.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘I’ve only ever known Ntembe. I thought I knew more. Thought I knew Africa. But I don’t.’

  ‘It’s a place that can always surprise you. Its capacity to inspire, to fear, to amaze, will always keep you on your toes.’

  She looked at him. ‘How are the children doing?’

  ‘As well as can be expected. I think they were infected earlier than Abeje. They’re sicker.’

  Fear welled in her gut. ‘Are they going to die?’

  ‘Not if I can help it.’

  He stared at her, determination in every feature.

  * * *

  The inoculation line was long, but each and every villager had turned up to receive medication. Tasha could see that Quinn was very happy about that. Neither of them would have liked to leave anyone out, and Ada had been instrumental in speaking to the villagers en masse and getting their understanding and trust, translating to those who didn’t understand English very well.

  They sat around a small campfire later in the evening, drinking coffee with Maria and Rob, who soon disappeared for an early night, leaving Tasha and Quinn alone.

  ‘They’re a couple,’ Quinn explained after the two nurses had left to share a tent.

  That left one other tent. One small tent. For Quinn and Tasha to share.

  She hadn’t realised the two nurses were together. When she’d seen two tents in the back of the truck and then erected them she’d figured that the two men would share one and she and Maria the other. But obviously that wasn’t going to be happening, and she felt apprehensive about being in such a small space with him.

  ‘Oh. You knew we would have to share?’

  ‘Yes. But I can sleep in the truck if that’s a problem. I promise you I can be perfectly trusted to keep my hands to myself.’

  He poked at the fire with a stick, creating sparks, unaware of the physical ones he was sparking within her.

  The idea of Quinn Shapiro letting his hands roam over her body made her feel infinitely hotter than the African sun could ever do. Right now she needed less of a fire and more like a bucket of ice water. She was imagining him looking intently into her eyes as they both lay on the ground, facing each other...

  Oh, dear Lord...

  She took a sip of scalding coffee and winced.

  Beyond the light of the fire the nocturnal noises of the bush had begun—insects, hyenas, and she even thought she heard the roar of an elephant from somewhere. Miles away, but instantly recognisable.

  She was surrounded by primal beasts. There could be tigers out there, lions, predators of all shapes and sizes. But she was only afraid of the man opposite her.

  Okay, maybe not afraid of him. But afraid of how he’s making me feel.

  Her teenage self would have screamed with glee at the idea of spending a night with Quinn Shapiro in a tiny tent. But her adult self was more cautious. So many years had passed since she’d last known him and she knew that she’d filled in the intervening years with a lot of baggage. Had he? Apart from his childhood, she hardly knew anything about him. He could still be a jerk, for all she knew. Just because he said he wasn’t, it was hardly a guarantee.

  ‘So, what did you get up to after we lost touch?’ she asked, determined to maintain eye contact, to see if he got shifty, or lied, or tried to evade her question.

  But he looked straight back at her. ‘School, college, medical training—all the usual suspects.’

  ‘Ever get married?’ Her pulse was thrumming like jungle drums in her ears, sweat beading her upper lip.

  We’ve got to share a tent.

  He blinked, the twinkle in his eyes fading as a shadow passed over his soul. ‘I did. You?’

  So...there is something you’re not telling me...

  ‘I did too.’

  She thought back to the day she’d stood in that small register office and made her vows to Simon. They’d been so happy. Or at least she had, believing their vows would tie them together for ever. But the only vow Simon had truly honoured was his Hippocratic Oath.

  ‘Well, I think we both tried to skip past that answer as quickly as we could, didn’t we?’ He grimaced, poking at the fire once again.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘Do you?’

  No, she did not. She did not want to tell Quinn about how her marriage had failed and destroy the image she was trying to create for herself. Successful, happy, teacher Natasha. That was what she wanted him to see and believe.

  She’d always told herself that if she ever did run into Quinn Shapiro again she would make him see her as wonderful, glamorous and successful. Happy and content. She did not want to go down the road that had led to her marriage going down the pan.

  ‘I think I’ll get some rest. It’s been a long, eventful day,’ she said.

  He smiled, not challenging her answer. ‘It has. Get some sleep. Goodnight, Tasha.’

  ‘Goodnight, Quinn.’

  And she headed for the tent, hoping and praying she’d be fast asleep before he turned in.

  * * *

  Quinn hadn’t got much sleep. He’d got up in the night a couple of times to check on the two children and change their IVs for fresh ones. Each time he had sneaked back into the tent and just lain there, thinking about his wife, Hannah.

  He tried not to, as a rule. Thinking about Hannah made him feel unstable. Rage and grief would bubble up, making him feel angry and vengeful. He didn’t like the feeling that thinking of her could make him lose control at any minute. He didn’t like the chaos inside him when he thought about Hannah.

  So he did what he’d been taught to do by his father—pushed it all inside. Stamped it down.

  ‘Boys don’t cry!’ his father had said. ‘You stay strong—like a man.’

  Being strong. Gritting his teeth, thinking of other things, had worked. In fact his job had helped him the most. There were always sick people needing help. There were always lives he could save, even if he hadn’t been able to save hers.

  Theirs.

  He swallowed and looked away from Tasha, not allowing himself to think of his wife and child. How odd that he had come all this way and found Nit-Nat. It had all started with this girl. The rules he had set down for his life had all begun with her.

  Don’t hurt anyone.

  Always heal.

  Always save life.

  Saving the many could save you.

  And Tasha lay beside him, unaware of just how much she had affected him back then.


  She probably believed that he had been nonchalant about what he’d said. That he’d just walked off with Dex and forgotten about it, or bragged about it. Laughed about it. But he hadn’t. He’d brooded on it for days, weeks, months.

  He’d hated the terrible feelings he’d had inside—feelings that he’d caused through his own callous, unthinking behaviour. He’d wished he could apologise, but when he’d finally got up the strength to go back there, to face her and tell her he was sorry for what he’d said that day, Dex had told him that she’d been fostered out.

  She’d never come back after that. His chance had been gone. And so he’d sat outside that home on a brick wall, underneath the window that had been hers, and he had vowed, out loud, that he would never hurt a living soul ever again. He had hoped, somehow, that she would feel the sense of his vow. That his earnest feelings would somehow carry across the world, through time and space to wherever she was, and somehow make her feel better.

  Now she was by his side. Asleep, her face in repose, those curls spread out on the red ground sheet, her pale freckles masking her nose and eyes, her nose upturned at the end in a gentle slope, her lips full and parted...

  The urge to kiss her came out of the blue.

  He sat up abruptly, startled by the feeling. He crawled from the tent and stood outside, stretching, sucking in the morning air, and decided the best thing for him and Tasha was to have a little space between them. If he’d kissed her she would have been startled, for one, but would she also have thought that he was somehow pitying her, or something? Making up for those years lost in a childhood crush?

  Whatever. It’s crazy whichever way I think about it.

  But as he marched across the campsite, towards the hut that contained the two ill children, his mind wrestled with images of her face in serene sleep. How much it meant to him to have her by his side. To have a chance to put right the things that had haunted him.

  And to know just what it might feel like to take her in his arms...

  CHAPTER THREE

  TASHA WAS IMPRESSED with the speed at which Quinn worked. Watching him was fascinating. Almost hypnotic.

  They’d set up two small cots on the flatbed of the truck, rearranging their equipment and medicines so that there was room for the two children, their parents and the two nurses. Then they stood and said goodbye to those that had gathered.