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Authors: Catherine MacDonald

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Chapter 23

 

 

I was busy at my desk the following Tuesday morning,
when the phone rang.

“Eithne?”

A voice I vaguely recognised came down the line.

“It’s Rosine - Nick’s sister.”

“Rosine?”

A sudden chill swept over me.

“What is it?  Is Nick....?”

She told me breathlessly that Nick was in St Thomas’
hospital with pneumonia, and was very ill.

“He’s only just got back to England.  The thing is -
my au pair’s left me in the lurch, I can’t visit with the children, and my
mother’s had a fall.  I wondered whether you might be able to go in to see him
today, just to check he has everything he needs.  I know it’s an awful cheek, but
you were always so fond of him, despite........”  Her voice trailed off, she
sounded distraught.  “I rang your mother and she gave me your number.  I can’t
bear my little brother being so ill, and my not being able to do anything. 
Andrew’s got a meeting he can’t get out of.  I don’t want to send a stranger,
and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Of course I’ll go.”

She gave me the details of the ward and visiting
times.

“Can you think of anything offhand that he might
want?”

 I switched to practical mode now I had recovered
from the initial shock.

“I don’t know, some squash or fruit perhaps - I
think he’s too ill to read, or anything.  There’s a shop on the premises for
basics. You are a good sort, Eithne.  Will you ring me afterwards and let me
know how he is?”

I took her number, and promised to call.  Then I
went to Janie, and told her I would be out for a while that afternoon.

It was with mixed feelings that I took a cab to the
hospital.  I was very sorry to think that Nick was unwell, but I was loath to
risk disturbing my recent equilibrium, and hoped that doing this good turn
would not rebound on my head.

He was in a four bed ward, next to the window.  I
walked quietly up to him, and my heart   almost stopped.  A drip was in one
arm, an oxygen cylinder stood by the bed, and he lay there, waxy, eyes closed,
his breathing harsh and shallow.  I thought for a horrible moment he was dying.

“Nick?”

I sank down on the chair by the bed, and took his
hand, his skin was damp and feverish.  He opened one eye.

“Eithne?  It’s you...”

He gripped my fingers tightly, and I smoothed back
his hair, which was matted and sweaty, and kissed his forehead.  He sketched a
travesty of his lovely smile.

“I’ve been trying to find you......you’ve left
Marsham and Hunter, your mother wouldn’t return my calls.....”

   “Well, she never felt quite the same about you
after you shared the details of how you took her daughter’s virginity with the
whole of Beresford.”

 I tried to keep my tone light, to disguise my concern.

“Not very much detail,” he protested, and coughed
harshly.  I helped him to a drink of water, and he sank back on the pillows,
panting a little.  I was frightened by his appearance, and the terrible
breathing.

“How on earth did you get this, Nick?” I asked
softly. 

“I was in South America just before I left
Sphere

They seem to think I picked up some bug there.  It suddenly got a lot
worse....”   He coughed again.

“You’ve left
Sphere
?”

“I’m writing features for
The Telegraph
from
next month...based in London now.”

I put this bit of news aside to think about later.

“Is there anything I can do to make you more
comfortable?”

“Just be here....”   He closed his eyes, and I
kissed him gently.

I forgot all about the threats I had issued down the
telephone after the
Sphere
article was published.  My heart had belly
flopped and landed at his feet as soon as I saw him - I could not bear to see
my beautiful Nick suffering, perhaps in pain.

I sat there with his hand in mine, and wondered why
I could not rid myself of this pervasive, aching love for him which persisted
despite the separations and the years.  It seemed terribly unfair.  He didn’t
deserve it, and I was the one who always ended up with the tears and the
heartache.  Fond though I was of Ian, I knew at that moment I did not feel for
him the way I still did - and would seemingly always feel - for Nick.

On the way to the hospital, I had surreptitiously
slipped off my engagement ring, and put it in my bag.  Time enough for
explanations when Nick was better, I told myself.

Nick seemed to be dozing now, his breathing fast and
shallow.  I looked round the ward. Two grey faced elderly men stared
impassively from the beds opposite, in the next bed, a thin dark skinned man
called “Nurse - nurse - nurse” in a low whine.  No one responded.  It was a
terribly depressing scene.

I sat there for a while, just holding his hand. 
Eventually, a uniformed figure materialised, and I motioned to her.

“Excuse me, I wondered whether you can give me any
information about Mr DeLisle’s condition?” I asked, breathless myself with
concern.

“Are you a relative?” 

Her eyes were cold and impersonal, her voice sharp.

“No - but his sister and mother can’t get here today. 
They’re very anxious to know how he is,” I replied, beseeching her, with my
eyes, to lighten up.  She pursed her lips, but took his notes from the end of
the bed, and turned to the last pages.

“He has a bad pneumonia, but the lab think they have
identified the bacterium now, and he started a new antibiotic today.  We should
see an improvement tomorrow, if that’s the case.”

She clopped away with heavy feet.  I turned back to
Nick, whose eyes had opened at our conversation.

“God, this is an awful place.  I hope you get better
soon,” I exclaimed.

“Me too.” 

He struggled as is if he wanted to sit more upright,
and I hastened to help him with his pillows.  His face was terribly pale and
ashy looking.

When he was settled, he seemed to breathe a little
more easily.  He reached out, and wound a curl of my hair round his fingers and
his eyes devoured me as if he were starving.

“I’ve longed and longed for you.....” he whispered.

This was torture.  I moved closer, and hugged his
head against my chest.

“I’m here now.”

He sighed, and relaxed against me, like a small
child in its mother’s arms, and I dropped a few tears on to the matted hair. 
We sat like that for a long time, until a fresh bout of coughing disturbed our
peace.

I helped him to drink again and resettled him in the
bed.

“How did you know I was in here?” he croaked.

“Rosine rang me. She couldn’t visit today, so I said
I’d come.  Is there anything you want, Nick, from the shop I mean, can I go and
get you anything?” I asked, wishing I could do something positive for the poor
sufferer.

“No, just stay with me.”

I sat beside him until visiting time was over, not
saying very much, cuddling him against me, murmuring nonsense, kissing and
stroking his face and hair.  I didn’t care whether anyone saw us, I just wanted
to hold him and love him and make him better.  Eventually, a bell rang.

“Nick?”  He was dozing feverishly again.  “That’s
the end of visiting, I have to leave now.  But I’ll come back this evening.”

I kissed him again.  He smiled weakly at me.

“Promise?”

“Yes, of course.  Try to sleep now, my darling.”

I could feel him yearning for me as I walked away,

I took a cab back to the Agency, and called Rosine. 
She seemed relieved that they had identified the cause of the illness, but I
had to be blunt when I said I thought he still seemed very ill.

“I’ll go again tonight, but they said he may not
start showing any improvement until after tomorrow.  When you speak to your
mother, tell her I’ll do everything I can for him,” I said.

“Bless you, Eithne.  I knew you wouldn’t let us
down.”

I slumped at my desk, sifting through the messages
which had accumulated in my absence, although I could not get myself worked up
about daily matters after the afternoon I had spent.  There was a knock, and
Robin stood in the doorway.

Our relationship had never been quite the same after
our spat following the announcement of my engagement.  Something of trust had
gone from between us and I regretted it, although I knew it was not necessarily
my fault.

“Don’t leave us, Eithne,” he said, with an air of
melodrama.  I couldn’t think what on earth he meant.  He looked at my blank
face.

“You were out such a long time this afternoon, I
assumed you had gone for an interview,” he explained. 

“No.” 

I looked down at the paperwork on my desk, and burst
into sobs.

“Jesus…..” 

He came into my cubicle, and put an arm round my
shoulders.  “What is it, are you missing Ian, or something?”

My sobs redoubled at that.  Robin patted me, until I
had calmed down, and then shepherded me into his office, where we could sit
more comfortably.  I got through a few more tissues, while he fetched some tea.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, when I had finished
crying.  I nodded, and it all came out - the call from Rosine, the hospital,
the awful, wrenching sight of Nick being so unwell. I needed to be honest with
someone.

“The worst of it is that I realised I still adore
him,” I said bleakly.  “After all this time, after all that’s happened, even
after Ian, I can’t shift Nick out of my heart.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I see you’re not wearing your engagement ring,”
Robin observed.

“No. I thought I wouldn’t get into that with Nick
until he was better,” I explained.

We sipped our tea, and I tried to understand the
import of what I was saying.

“So - Eithne - what do you want to happen?”  Robin
asked after a while.

“That’s the trouble, I don’t know.  Part of me wants
to say to hell with Nick, he only brings me problems, best stick with Ian - at
least I know where I am with him.  Then I think, how can I marry Ian, knowing I
love someone else more than I love him?”

I hesitated, it wasn’t just a question of love,
there was also the memory of recent events which had sown a seed of doubt in my
mind regarding our relationship, but I couldn’t talk about that. 

“And God knows what Nick wants, anyway.  Once he’s
better he’ll probably bugger off to Australia for a change.”

A sudden awful thought struck me, and I looked
sharply across at Robin.

“You must promise not to say anything about this to
anyone, especially Ian.  Promise me, Robin.”

“I do, I won’t say anything,” he assured me.  “Of
course, you can’t blame me for hoping you’ll give Ian the heave-ho.”

His face brightened momentarily.

 “Well if I do, I’ll probably have to leave
Mackerras Mackay, so be careful what you wish for.”

We stared at each other, pondering the
imponderables.  Finally, Robin said:

“Eithne, I shouldn’t be in a hurry about any of
this.  You’re upset today because Nick is ill, but you have nothing else
concrete to go on.  You haven’t seen Nick for two years.  For all you know,
he’s got an American girlfriend tucked away somewhere like you have Ian.  Take
things one day at a time.  When Nick gets better, you may decide that he isn’t
quite what you remembered, or he may make it plain that he’s not up for
renewing your relationship. You might even decide that you prefer Ian after
all.  For God’s sake, put yourself first for once, anyway.”

What he said made sense.  I blew my nose again, and
started to feel better.

“Sorry, Robin.  It was just such a shock seeing him
like that.  But you’re right, I can’t make any decisions at the moment.”

I got up.

“It’ll soon be evening visiting, so I’ll have to
go.  I’ll come in early tomorrow to make up for this afternoon.”

“Don’t worry about that, take the time you need. 
And I’m taking you to the pub for a quick bite to eat before you go back to the
hospital.  No point in you collapsing as well.”

 

I felt happier as I sat in the taxi going back to St
Thomas’s.  Robin had talked sense, and I felt that our relationship had mended
as a result of our frank discussion.  That was important to me.

Nick still looked terrible when I returned to the
ward, and it was awful to feel I could do so little to help him.  As in the
afternoon, he clung to me, and I petted and soothed him as much as I could.  Just
before I had to leave, a red haired Scottish doctor came in, and looked with
interest at us.

“Ah - the girlfriend, I see.”  (I wasn’t going to
contradict him.)  “Your young man’s been very poorly, but I think I see a
slight improvement tonight.  How are you feeling, Nicholas?”

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