A Child to Heal Them Read online

  Quinn laughed. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Where are we going? You didn’t say.’

  ‘Somewhere special. Trust me.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You look very beautiful.’

  She blushed, inordinately pleased at his compliment. But she told herself to put it into perspective. He was just being kind and polite. What man didn’t say a woman looked nice when they’d both made an effort to go out somewhere together? Just because Quinn had said it, it didn’t mean anything. They were just friends.

  Me and Quinn...friends. I would never have believed it.

  He escorted her out to his car, which looked like a jigsaw: different coloured panels everywhere. Nothing matching. A real rust-bucket.

  ‘I know it’s not a stretch limousine...’

  She smiled. ‘You couldn’t buy one of those at the port?’ she joked.

  ‘They were all sold out.’

  He opened the passenger door for her and she looked in at the familiar bursts of foam sticking out of the seat covers. It seemed such a long time ago that he’d taken her out to The Coffee Bean that night.

  She’d not felt this happy for a long time, and she touched the pebble necklace at her throat with nerves. She’d wanted to wear it tonight. For him. To show that she appreciated his gesture. That they were both trying, here.

  She laughed when the engine didn’t start. ‘Should I call for a mechanic?’

  He looked at her a little bemused. ‘Give it one more chance. All she needs is a little love and patience.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’

  And then, on the fifth attempt, the engine roared into life, sounding as if it might conk out again at any moment.

  ‘Are you sure we’re going to make it home later?’

  ‘I’ll give you a piggy-back if I have to.’

  Putting the car into first gear, he drove them away from Ntembe, kangarooing every now and again, before steering them down the main road and then taking a dusty side track that led them up a hill, signposted ‘The Heights’.

  The road was long and winding, skimming the edge of the mountain, providing them with terrifically scary views, and just before the top, where it levelled out, there was a small building, lit with dangling white lamps, with a small terrace that gave great views out to the sea.

  She’d never known about this. Never seen it before. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘The Heights restaurant. An ex-patient owns it.’

  ‘Wow!’ It was all she could say.

  The terrace was filled with intimate little tables for two, white tablecloths covering each one. There were candles and lamps, small potted plants, and on each table a single flower in a tall, thin glass vase.

  Quinn got out and opened the car door for her, and she heard guitar music playing from speakers as she stepped out in her long maxi-dress.

  The maître d’—a young, well-presented man in a black shirt and bow tie—escorted them to a table on the terrace.

  ‘Thank you.’ She sat down, smiling, and accepted the menu that he proffered. It was printed in the most elegant script, and it surprised her to find a place of such class and distinction in a part of Africa she’d always believed to be deprived.

  ‘Tonight’s specials are the liboké de poisson and our fishball stew.’

  She frowned. ‘What was the first one?’

  The maître d’ smiled. ‘The liboké de poisson is our fish of the day, wrapped in banana leaves and baked.’

  Mmm. Sounds wonderful.

  Tasha thanked him and, as if he could read their minds and knew that they needed to chat and discuss life before choosing their food, the maître d’ slunk away almost as if by magic.

  She smiled at Quinn over her menu. ‘How did you find this place?’

  ‘I actually discovered it on one of my first trips here. One of the doctors who’d volunteered on the ship was retiring, and we all came here in a group of about forty. We took over the whole restaurant, and I remember it because the food and the views were just so amazing. Later the guy who owns it came to us for a procedure.’

  ‘Is everyone on the Serendipity a volunteer?’

  ‘A lot of them, yes.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No, I’ve been there too long.’ He smiled. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘I’ll have a dry white wine, please.’

  ‘Sounds great. I’ll join you.’

  The maître d’ appeared and Quinn gave their order, and they both soon had their glasses filled with the house special.

  The staff came and went like culinary ghosts.

  ‘It’s just so beautiful up here,’ she said, gazing out at the bay far below, where vessels bobbed on the water like rubber ducks.

  It wasn’t chilly. The night was perfect. They could see the Serendipity, and all the other boats and ships docked in port. There were the lights of Ntembe, and beyond that the port, and the vast stretch of water that was the Mozambique Channel. All glittering in the moonlight.

  ‘It’s peaceful up here, too. Makes you feel that you have no hardships. That there’s nothing to worry about. It’s hard to imagine that there are hundreds of people down there, all living their lives, going about their business, unaware that we’re looking down on them from above.’

  A waiter came and took their food order.

  ‘It’s important to get away from things sometimes,’ Quinn said. ‘The pressures of life and living. Escapism is good every now and again.’

  Tasha knew about escaping. She’d done it to survive. But there was a difference between escaping physically and escaping mentally. Once something was inside your head—fear, guilt, shame—you couldn’t escape that no matter where you went. You took it with you.

  Escaping to a different place, going for a nice meal, like tonight, or going on holiday to Bali or Bora Bora, or wherever, was just window dressing. Wherever you chose to go it wouldn’t help at all unless you got everything right in your head. You could choose to try not to think about something for a while—read a book, watch a movie, have time out with friends or a loved one—but it would always be waiting for you. Lurking in the dark recesses of your mind. Ready to cause trouble and anguish once again.

  ‘It is. Sometimes we need to pretend that everything’s okay and that we have nothing to worry about.’

  He smiled and raised his glass to her in a toast. ‘Here’s to having nothing to worry about.’

  She clinked his glass with her own and took a sip of wine. It was deliciously fruity. ‘And here’s to Abeje getting better.’

  He clinked her glass. ‘To Abeje. And every other patient on the ship tonight.’

  ‘We never do stop worrying, though, do we? You have patients you must think about constantly, and I have students who are never far from my mind.’

  Quinn nodded. ‘Are there any jobs, do you think, in which people can truly switch off from work the second they leave?’

  She thought about it for a moment, her mind reaching for possibilities before throwing them away. ‘I really don’t know.’

  He smiled at her. ‘It’s just human nature, I guess.’

  ‘But working with children, like you and I both do, isn’t that the hardest?’

  She wondered if he’d ever experienced what she had. If he’d ever had to make a choice over someone’s life, Decided who to treat first, knowing that the one you left till second might die because of that decision?

  ‘It can be. There have been times when I have truly not wanted to be a doctor. The knowledge it gives you is powerful, but when there’s nothing to be done it can be... At times like that I wish I could walk away. But I made an oath and I meant it.’

  She’d made that oath, too.

  Once.

  And she had walked away.

  What does that make me? Am I a coward? Or should I just ne
ver have been a doctor in the first place?

  She gazed down at the sheer white tablecloth, adjusted her cutlery slightly. Sipped her wine. Remembering.

  Remembering what she’d done.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THEIR WAITER BROUGHT them a platter of seafood—oysters, crab, shrimp, calamari—served with scalloped potatoes, fresh crusty bread and curls of butter, the aromas of which, caused their mouths to salivate in anticipation.

  As other guests arrived and the restaurant began to fill up they chatted pleasantly over their meal.

  Tasha was aware that as it got darker Quinn’s eyes looked even more devilish, twinkling in the low lantern light. He smiled a lot, and he was a good listener as she told him some of her teaching stories.

  ‘So, how long have you been a teacher?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, not that long,’ she answered without thinking, his easy-going nature having made her let down her guard.

  ‘So what did you do when you left school?’

  Oh.

  She shrugged. ‘This and that. I kind of drifted,’ she lied, hating herself for telling him untruths, but not sure she could tell him everything.

  How would he look at her if she did? She’d quit being a doctor! She’d made that oath that was so important to him and then she’d walked away. She’d lost a child. A whole life. Because of making the wrong choice. Could she tell him that?

  No. Not when she was enjoying spending time with him. He would look at her differently. View her differently. Here he was in Africa, saving lives, giving medicine to those who had none.

  He gave his all here. She could see that. Even if she did get frustrated at the level of response Abeje was showing. And she liked being a success in his eyes. It was an image she wanted to maintain—especially with him.

  That earlier part of her life was something that she found shameful, and she didn’t feel comfortable enough with him yet to tell him the truth. She would have to keep that to herself until he left. And each and every time she saw him after that. If they got the chance.

  ‘What about you? Did you keep in touch with Dexter?’

  He smiled at the name. ‘Dexter Green...now that’s a name I haven’t thought of for a while. I did for a bit. But he went off to one uni and I went off to another. You know how it is—you lose touch, sometimes.’

  ‘I wonder what he ended up doing?’

  ‘I think he was a sports journalist, last I heard.’ He patted his mouth with a napkin. ‘Do you keep in touch with any of the kids from the children’s home?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. The day I left I cut every tie.’

  ‘You must have been lonely.’

  ‘I had a new foster family to get to know.’

  He frowned and reached out to take her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t have a great start in life. But look at you now. In Africa, doing a job that you love, living the dream...’

  She smiled back, aware of the sensations as he touched her. Stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. It was a simple gesture, but intimate. One that was sending fireworks of frenzy zipping around her body, making her high on adrenaline. She couldn’t help but stare at their hands interlocked upon the tablecloth.

  ‘Are you finished with your plates?’

  Their waiter had come to take the platter away. They thanked him, told him it had been delicious, and he magicked away their used crockery with a smile of satisfaction upon his face.

  ‘It is your dream? Teaching?’ He was looking at her carefully. Trying to read the emotions rushing across her face.

  ‘Of course. It’s just...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Abeje getting so sick...it’s thrown me.’

  ‘Children get sick.’ His eyes darkened.

  ‘Yes, but if we were back in England she’d have a cold or tonsillitis. This is malaria. It could kill her.’

  He squeezed her fingers more reassuringly.

  Then their waiter came back to their table. ‘Excuse me, sir. You’re Dr Shapiro?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s an urgent telephone call for you inside.’

  An urgent call. Was it Abeje? Suddenly the food in Tasha’s stomach sat heavily. Sickeningly.

  Quinn glanced at her apologetically. ‘Excuse me.’ He dabbed his mouth once again with the napkin and got up.

  She watched him go, weaving his way through the tables, following the waiter to the phone.

  When he was gone she pulled her hand back towards herself and thought about what she was feeling. Quinn was making her question herself and she was feeling very disconcerted. Was she living her dream? Or was she just in her fall-back position of teaching?

  She missed medicine, but she wasn’t certain she was strong enough to go back to doing it. Perhaps there was a branch of medicine she could be in that wouldn’t be so upsetting? Dermatology? Ear, nose and throat? But she knew instinctively that any of these options also carried risks. No matter where she went or what she chose she would always face heartbreaking cases.

  And now she was here. With Quinn. Closer to him than she had ever believed possible.

  He wasn’t gone long. Just a few minutes. He came back into view, striding to their table, his face sombre.

  He stood by her side. ‘I’m sorry to cut our date short, but we have to go.’

  She stood up, feeling nauseous and suspecting she already knew the answer to her question but having to ask anyway. ‘Is something wrong?’

  He nodded, and looked as if he was deciding about whether to tell her the next part or not.

  ‘It’s Abeje. She’s taken a turn for the worse.’

  * * *

  Quinn got them back to the ship in less than twenty minutes, but it was the longest twenty minutes of Tasha’s life so far. All she could imagine was getting on board and hearing those terrible words. The words she couldn’t bear to hear.

  During the drive back she’d bombarded Quinn with questions.

  ‘What did they say, exactly?’

  ‘That she’s spiked a high fever and that her urine output has slowed.’

  ‘How high a fever?’

  ‘They didn’t say.’

  ‘Well, was it over a hundred?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Well, when he said her output had slowed, did he say how much? How many millilitres an hour is she producing? How full was her bag?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  She’d got so frustrated with him! So angry.

  ‘When did she last have a kidney function test?’

  ‘A few hours ago.’

  ‘What were the results?’

  ‘I wasn’t there. I was seeing to other patients, It’ll be in her notes.’

  If the kidneys failed it would be a slippery slope from there. All her organs would shut down. She’d fall into a coma.

  She might die.

  She’d seen it happen before. The kidneys were often the barometer of the body. You watched the kidneys like a hawk.

  Not being able to see Abeje’s most recent notes, not to have them in her hands...

  Why did I agree to this date? If I hadn’t said yes we’d be there right now!

  Tasha had felt as if she wanted to throw up. Adrenaline firing, her heart hammering, her throat feeling tight and closed. She had even shivered as Quinn raced them back down that hill towards Ntembe port.

  I can’t lose her! She can’t die!

  She had to lift up her skirt to run up the gangplank after Quinn, whose massive stride seemed to take no effort at all, and they burst into the clinic together and headed straight for Abeje’s bedside.

  She looked listless and clammy, her breathing irregular.

  ‘Let’s get her on oxygen right now, and I want a full blood screen, asap!’ Quinn o
rdered, grabbing the stethoscope from Rob’s neck and listening to Abeje’s breathing and heartbeat. ‘Heart sounds strong.’

  Tasha grabbed the notes from the end of the bed and ran her gaze over all the figures, interpreting what she saw. The kidney function tests seemed okay. The bottom end of normal, but still within the normal range.

  Why had Quinn not double-checked this? Why hadn’t he been concerned?

  ‘Heart-rate’s good.’

  She had to grab on to any strands of hope she could.

  She tried to keep out of the way, but the desire to rush forward and grab the stethoscope from his hands, push him out of the way and tend to Abeje herself, was overwhelming. Instead she hung the notes back on the edge of the bed and backed off, grabbing the counter, grounding herself and telling herself that she couldn’t do that. She had no right to practice medicine.

  All she could do was hold that counter, concentrate on the feel of it in her hands, as Quinn and Rob tended to Abeje.

  The oxygen seemed to be helping.

  ‘SATs are back up to ninety-five.’

  ‘Respirations are at twenty-two.’

  Quinn ordered medication and wrote down all his observations on Abeje’s chart.

  ‘What’s happening now?’ Tasha asked.

  ‘We’ve got to wait and see if her fever comes down.’

  ‘That’s it? Wait and see?’

  Surely there was more they could do? Not that she could think of anything herself.

  ‘It’s all we can do. I’ve given her meds and full oxygen. We’ve taken bloods to check the status of her levels. Until those results come back there’s nothing more we can do.’

  ‘There must be something!’ She raced to the side of Abeje’s bed and grabbed the little girl’s hand. ‘We can’t just leave her to...’

  ‘To what?’ Quinn looked at her strangely.

  She stared at Abeje’s face. So serene. So peaceful. She almost looked as she was...

  Tasha closed her eyes, wincing. She couldn’t think that. She couldn’t! ‘I can’t lose her.’

  ‘We’re not at that point. No way near.’ He laid a hand on her shoulder, then knelt by her side and made her look at him. ‘Hey, she’s okay at the moment. Stable.’