The Surgeon's Proposal

Annabelle stuffed her knuckles into her mouth and sobbed wildly, until she remembered Duncan in the next room. He would be worried and confused if he saw her like this—red-eyed, swollen-nosed. He had a caring little heart, when he stood still long enough for it to show.

She heard the clatter of his feet as he bounced off the couch to come looking for her, and quickly turned to the kitchen sink to wash away the worst of the mess her face was in. By the time he appeared, she was wearing a smile.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e876bbec-ede2-5605-bb52-0d5ec00c5895)

ANNABELLE and Duncan reached Gumnut Playcare just as it opened, at six-thirty on Monday morning. Annabelle was rostered in Theatre with a seven o’clock start, and timing, as usual, was tight.

‘Got your backpack?’ she prompted Duncan, then watched as he dragged it slowly across the back seat of the car.

His little face looked sullen and closed and not at all cute.

She helped him put the backpack on, then took his hand and tried to lead him up the path to the front door, but he stalled, pulled out of her grasp and ran off to examine some interesting leaves on a nearby bush.

‘We can’t look at those now, love,’ she told him brightly, but he ignored her. ‘I’ll be late,’ she finished, knowing the concept—and the consequences—were meaningless to a little boy.

Since it was all too likely that either Alex or Dylan, or both of them, would be operating in Theatre Three today, she was doubly anxious to arrive on time.

‘’Eaves,’ Duncan said. His tone was stubborn.

‘I know, they’re lovely leaves, but we just can’t look at them now. This afternoon, OK?’

She hoped, guiltily, that he’d forget. It would be six or later before she got back here, as Mum had a doctor’s appointment. Annabelle had cleaned and done laundry for her yesterday, but today, in addition, they would need to stop at the shops on the way back from the doctor. If the doctor was running late, or if she herself was late off work…

A twelve-hour day was too long for a two-year-old.

‘’Eaves,’ he said again.

‘Not now, sweetie.’

She picked him up and carried him inside, ignoring the way he wriggled and kicked. He’d been a darling all weekend, sitting rapt and attentive on the couch yesterday afternoon while Mum read to him, ‘helping’ to hang out the laundry. Today, she already knew he was going to be a demon.

Inside the child-care centre, once she had put him down, he streaked off and began running noisily around the room, without responding to the overly cheerful greetings of Lauren and Carly, the two staff on duty. Annabelle signed him in, unsurprised to find that he was the first name on today’s page.

Just then a second child arrived—a four-year-old girl named Katie, prettily dressed and obediently holding her mother’s hand. As soon as she saw Duncan, she said in a loud voice, ‘That’s the naughty boy who bit me, Mummy.’

Annnabelle’s stomach flipped. She turned to Lauren. ‘You didn’t tell me…’

‘There’s a note in his pocket.’ Lauren gestured towards the bright row of cloth ‘pockets’ running along the wall, where children’s artwork and notes for parents were placed. Duncan’s was brimming with untidily folded paintings, and Annabelle thought guiltily, When did I last remember to check it? Wednesday?

When she picked him up, she was always so keen to get out of here quickly.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll speak to him about it.’

Which would be pointless with a two-year-old, when the incident had occurred several days earlier. Katie’s mother was glaring at Annabelle, however, and she felt obliged to act tough. Inside, she was crumbling.

‘And it’s not the first time either, I’ve heard,’ the mother said coldly.

She was right. It wasn’t.

But it only ever happened at child-care.

‘Can I make an appointment to talk to you?’ Annabelle asked Lauren desperately.

‘This afternoon?’

‘I can’t today. I have other commitments.’ And tomorrow wasn’t any better. ‘I’ll have to look at my diary. Duncan, Mummy has to go, OK?’

She had to say it twice to get his attention, but when she did, he rushed over and flung his arms around her legs.

‘No!’

‘You have a great day, OK?’

‘No. Don’t go.’

‘I’ll see you later.’ Aeons later. ‘And we’ll have spaghetti for dinner.’

Duncan burst into tears and clung to her legs as she dragged herself towards the door. Lauren intervened, picking him up and talking brightly about blocks and puzzles. He began to kick and struggle, and the brightness was more forced. ‘We don’t kick, Duncan,’ she said.

The little girl’s mother walked past, in the wake of a sweet-voiced and perfectly contented, ‘I love you, Mummy!’

‘I love you too, Katie, my sweetheart angel,’ she called back. Smugly, it seemed to Annabelle.

‘Just go, Annabelle. He’ll be fine in two seconds,’ Lauren said.

They both knew it wasn’t true.

‘Thanks,’ Annabelle answered.

Unlocking her car, she heard the little girl’s mother muttering pointedly about discipline and aggression and behaviour problems. She was still shaking and queasy as she drove out of the parking area and into the street.

The whole of today’s list in Theatre Three consisted of hips and knees, Annabelle discovered when she arrived at Coronation Hospital. Dr Shartles had two hip replacements, then Alex took over for two quite complex knee operations and another hip procedure sandwiched in between, with Dylan assisting. All three were private patients, which meant that Alex would involve himself more thoroughly than he did with public patients having the same surgery.

Dr Shartles’s hip replacements went without a hitch, which served as a necessary settling to Annabelle’s focus. She enjoyed this aspect of surgery—the fact that there was a standard framework to the whole thing, so that even when something went wrong the surgical staff still had procedures in place for dealing with it.

Today, however, she felt like the meat in a sandwich. As soon as she’d calmed down and dragged her mind away from Duncan, she had time to think about the encounter with Alex which lay ahead. Nice if Dylan hadn’t been part of the equation as well!

Dr Shartles left it to his registrar to complete the final procedure, the patient was wheeled out to Recovery and Annabelle and the other theatre nurse, Barb Thompson, prepped Theatre Three for the next operation. Annabelle was an experienced scrub nurse, gloved and sterile like the surgeons, and worked closely beside them.

Just beyond the swing doors, she heard Alex’s voice, and wasn’t surprised at the sharpness in it.

‘No, not yet. I have some calls to make first. When Calford gets off the phone.’

So they were both here.

Knots tightened in her temples, and she thought, I wish I was on a beach. With Duncan. I wish we lived on a beach. On a tropical island. Eating coconuts and mangoes and yams. I don’t want to be here.

‘Next patient just got cancelled,’ Barb reported. ‘Don Laycock. Dr Sturgess’s patient. Third time. He’s…’ She glanced over at Annabelle and quickly amended her sentence. ‘Not happy.’