Red-Hot Desert Docs. Carol Marinelli

and change of sheets. When she came back into the cubicle Leila was staring at the photo but then she placed it back in her bag.

      It must be so hard for her, Adele thought, not to be able to speak of her son. She wondered if Zahir even knew about the baby his mother had lost.

      ‘Were you going to tell your husband after the operation?’ Adele asked as she washed her.

      ‘Yes,’ Leila said. ‘I might even have told him before or got one of my sons to. I know it is hard to understand our ways,’ Leila said. ‘Most of the time I am very grateful for the care I receive. There are times, though, that more is needed.’

      Aafaq had been one of those times, Adele guessed.

      Soon she was washed and changed.

      ‘Thank you for caring for me,’ Leila said.

      ‘It’s my pleasure. I’m just going to take your blood pressure again.’

      She was doing just that when Maria checked that Leila was ready to receive visitors and a concerned-looking Zahir and Dakan came in.

      They came over and Zahir gave his mother a warm embrace and spoke kindly to her in Arabic.

      ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You could have told me that you have not been well.’

      ‘I have been trying to deal with it myself.’

      ‘Well, you don’t have to. You have two sons who are doctors.’

      ‘The healer seems to think...’

      What was being said, Adele did not know but she watched as Zahir’s jaw gritted.

      ‘Zahir, don’t just dismiss it out of hand. The potion helped at first but in the end was not working. It was the same when...’ She didn’t finish.

      Zahir looked down at his mother’s swollen eyes and he knew that she would have been asked about previous pregnancies.

      And he knew that subject must not be raised by him.

      ‘When things were getting no better, the healer suggested that when I was in London perhaps I could see someone.’

      Zahir frowned. ‘He suggested it?’

      ‘Yes,’ Leila said, ‘but please don’t tell your father that. I don’t want the healer to get in trouble.’

      It was a long afternoon that stretched into the evening. Dakan got paged to go to the ward and Zahir saw patients while keeping an eye on his mother.

      Mr Oman came and saw Leila. It was decided that she would be admitted to the private wing and that surgery would take place on Monday.

      ‘For now we’ll have you moved somewhere more comfortable and you can get some rest.’

      He spoke with Zahir on his way out. ‘You know that I shall take the very best care of her.’

      ‘I do. Thank you.’

      ‘Try not to worry. It will be a laparoscopic procedure and there will be minimal downtime.’ Mr Oman said.

      Zahir knew that.

      It was a straightforward operation that his mother had had to travel for ten hours to get access to.

      Dakan came in to visit again and they persuaded their mother that Fatiq, the King, needed to be informed as to all that had happened today, and finally she agreed.

      ‘Go easy on him, Zahir,’ Leila said, for she knew how they clashed, especially on topics such as this. ‘He will be so worried and scared for me.’

      Zahir nodded.

      And at the beginning of the call, knowing how deeply his parents loved each other and the shock this would be, he was gentle. He sat in his office, explaining as best he could what had happened and that his mother would have surgery on Monday.

      ‘No,’ his father said and Zahir could hear the fear in his voice. ‘I want her here. Last time she went into hospital...’ He didn’t finish.

      They never did.

      That topic was closed for ever.

      ‘Zahir, if anything should happen to her—’

      ‘She needs surgery,’ Zahir interrupted, but they went around in circles for a while, with Fatiq insisting that surgery was unnecessary and that the healer could sort this.

      Zahir bit back the temptation to tell his father that the healer had been the one who had suggested it.

      That had surprised Zahir, yet it pleased him also.

      Perhaps some progress could finally be made.

      ‘She is seeing one of the top surgeons in London,’ Zahir said. ‘I will ensure that she gets the very best of care and shall keep you informed.’

      The call ended and Zahir replaced the receiver. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb and took a deep breath to steady himself. He was so angry with his father about the health care back home and it was a battle they had fought for way more than a decade.

      It was the reason he was here.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘ARE YOU OKAY?’

      Her voice was soothing.

      Pleasant.

      He opened his eyes and there, standing at the office door, was Adele.

      Zahir thought he had closed it and was uncomfortable that she’d caught him in an unguarded moment.

      ‘I’m not about to have my second Al Rahal faint on me today?’ Adele checked, and Zahir gave a reluctant smile.

      ‘No.’

      ‘We’re just about to move your mother to the private wing.’

      ‘Good,’ Zahir said, and then glanced at the time. ‘You must be finishing up. Thank you for all your help with her today.’

      ‘You’re welcome.’

      ‘Who’s taking her up to the ward?’

      ‘I am,’ Adele said.

      His mother had insisted on keeping Adele around and, because queens were something of a rarity, the rules had been relaxed.

      ‘She wants to know if you’ve spoken with her husband.’

      ‘Tell my mother that he knows. I’ll come and speak with her on the ward. I just have a couple more patients to see.’

      It took ages to settle Leila into the private wing. She was lovely but extremely demanding and by the time Adele had everything to the Queen’s liking and had handed over it was way past the end of her shift and she was exhausted.

      ‘I shall see you in the morning,’ Leila checked as Adele wished her goodnight.

      Zahir had come in to check that his mother was settled too.

      ‘No.’ Adele shook her head.

      ‘But you said you started tomorrow at seven.’

      ‘Yes, but I work in Emergency.’

      There was an exchange in Arabic between mother and son. A rather long one and finally Zahir translated what was being said.

      ‘She wants to know if you can nurse her. I’ve just explained that that is not how things work.’

      Leila spoke now in English. ‘I want Adele to be my nurse.’

      ‘She’s very used to getting her own way.’ Zahir gave a wry smile and then went back to speaking in Arabic.

      His mother was adamant and, seeing that she was getting upset, Adele intervened.

      ‘Leila,