The Pregnant Intern. Carol Marinelli

back was the least of her concerns.

      ‘I think we’re winning.’ Jeremy looked up briefly and Alice could read the look of sheer relief in his vivid eyes. By the time Jeremy had stitched the last of the drains into place, which would drain any excess fluid from Lachlan’s abdomen, and had covered the wound with a huge clear dressing, they had been operating for over two hours. ‘Good work, everyone. Let’s get him out to Recovery.’

      Alice would have liked nothing more than to peel off her theatre scrubs, stand under a cool shower and follow it up with a huge mug of tea, but that luxury was going to have to wait. Lachlan had been resuscitated with fluids in the emergency department and huge doses of antibiotics had already been administered, but his post-operative IV and drug regime would have to be worked out carefully if they were to allay any of the multitude of post-operative complications he might succumb to.

      ‘His father’s just outside,’ Carrie, the theatre charge nurse, prompted. Alice watched as the faintest hint of a frown appeared on Jeremy’s face. ‘Jeremy, he’s a consultant. It will have to be you that talks to him,’ Carrie said firmly.

      ‘I know, I know,’ he said irritably. ‘I’ll talk to him, but first I’m having a shower. I’ll be back to check on Lachlan shortly.’

      ‘Why is he so worried about talking to him?’ Alice couldn’t refrain from asking when Jeremy turned on his heel and left. ‘I mean, he did a brilliant job in there. You’d think he’d be the rushing off to tell Dr Scott.’

      Carrie shrugged. ‘Probably terrified he might have to get out his handkerchief.’ She gave a small laugh and Alice heard the trace of bitterness in her voice. ‘Jeremy doesn’t like scenes or confrontations. If Lachlan had been a straightforward appendicitis he’d be out there now, grinning like a Cheshire cat and saying how well it had gone. You know as well as I do it’s going to be pretty hard telling Lachlan’s parents how sick he is. He may be out of Theatre but he certainly isn’t out of the woods yet. No doubt Jeremy’s hoping that by the time he’s had his shower someone will have done the dirty deed for him. You’ll get used to his underhand methods. I know I have.’

      ‘I hear you’ve been having a bit of excitement?’ Alice swung around and smiled as she saw Josh entering the recovery area. Carrie muttered something and went to check on Lachlan.

      ‘Too much for one morning. How about you, Josh? How was your morning with Linda?’

      Josh rolled his eyes. ‘Bearable. At least the mask covers up her face.’

      ‘Josh, you’re terrible.’ Alice giggled.

      ‘I just say things as I see them.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Speaking of which, what was Carrie bitching about?’

      ‘Nothing, she was just saying how Jeremy avoids talking to relatives when the news is bad.’

      ‘Take everything Carrie says about Jeremy with a pinch of salt. She’s just bitter because he dumped her. Or rather, he didn’t dump her—he got a “friend” to do it for him.’

      ‘Ouch,’ Alice winced. ‘I thought there was a bit of an undercurrent between them.’

      But Josh shook his head. ‘Not where Jeremy’s concerned. As soon as a relationship’s over, he forgets the woman ever existed and moves happily on to the next one. It’s the women who are left simmering—any undercurrents come from them. Jeremy’s exes probably radiate enough energy to act as the hospital’s back-up generator.’

      Alice’s laughter was interrupted by Josh’s pager. ‘Now what does Linda want?’ he muttered, but his face paled as he read the message.

      ‘It’s Dianne ringing,’ he said, referring to his wife. Grabbing the nearest phone, he picked it up and, shaking, attempted to dial home, but kept misdialling.

      ‘Josh, give it here.’ Alice laughed. ‘She probably just wants you to pick up a pizza tonight. Now, what’s the number?’

      But Dianne didn’t want a pizza. She wanted Josh home now or she was going to dial for an ambulance herself.

      ‘How far apart are the contractions?’ Alice asked as Josh replaced the telephone, his face white.

      ‘Two to three minutes apart, and from the noises she’s making they’re pretty full on.’ He scratched his head. ‘She was fine this morning, not a peep. I thought first labours went on for ever.’

      ‘In the text books maybe, but this is real life. You’d better go now, Josh.’

      ‘What about—?’

      ‘Go,’ Alice insisted. ‘I’ll tell Jeremy and Linda. Give me your pager. And ring me with the news,’ she ordered, as he handed her his pager and notes. Josh was in such a state that he handed her his wallet. ‘You don’t have to pay me.’ Alice laughed again.

      ‘Wish me luck,’ Josh grinned. ‘Next time you see me I’ll be a responsible father of two.’

      Alice shook her head. ‘A father, yes—responsible, no. Good luck,’ she called to his rapidly departing back. And as he left Alice was suddenly filled with a hollow sadness. Josh was so excited, so ready for all that was ahead. She imagined him holding his wife’s hands, working with her, guiding her through her labour. And afterwards, when their babies were born, sharing in each other’s joy, united as a family. Her hand moved down to the solid swell beneath her theatre greens. Her baby was missing out on so much. And that hurt Alice, not for herself but for her unborn baby.

      Maybe lots of women had babies without a partner these days, some even by choice, but it had never been her intention. She had always assumed that when—if—the time came to have children, it would be with the man she loved at her side. She knew the pain she felt now would only magnify with time. It had been hard enough at the antenatal classes, listening as the midwife had explained the role of the partner during labour. Alice had felt the weight of the pitying smiles then as she had sat alone, pretending to take notes.

      What would it be like when she was actually in labour? When the pain got too much and there was no one she knew there to comfort her, to guide her and cheer her on? And then... Alice closed her eyes as they started to fill. How would it feel when the baby was born and there was no one to share it with, no one to gloat with and gaze in wonder at the miracle of birth?

      ‘He’s waking up.’

      Alice snapped back to attention at Carrie’s words, and made her way over to the gurney.

      ‘What are his obs doing?’

      ‘Stable. His blood pressure’s good, still febrile and his temp’s thirty-eight.’

      ‘We’ll just have to wait for the antibiotics to kick in. Lachlan, it’s Dr Masters. I saw you briefly in the accident department. Lie still now, Lachlan, you’re just coming to after an operation.’ Alice kept her voice low and steady, trying to orientate and at the same time reassure the young man.

      The anaesthetist had entered and was setting up a pethidine infusion for Lachlan. For the immediate post-op period a high dose of analgesic would be administered automatically, to control his pain, but as his consciousness and condition improved he would be using a patient controlled analgesia machine which would enable him to administer a safe dose of analgesic to himself as required.

      ‘How’s he doing?’ Jeremy asked. Looking refreshed from his shower and, as usual, immaculately presented, he accepted the chart from Carrie. His question was directed more at the anaesthetist than Alice.

      ‘Happy from this end. Where are you sending him?’

      ‘There’s a HDU bed on Surgical 1.’

      ‘Josh’s wife rang,’ Alice informed him. ‘Apparently—’

      ‘I know already,’ Jeremy answered, without looking up. ‘I collided with him on my way here.’

      And that was that. No small talk, no casual remarks about wishing him well, or the usual