Page 6 of Prognosis So Done

Gill couldn’t think of anything worse if he tried. Except not being married to Harry. They had a great life. They were free to work where they wanted, live where they wanted, travel where they wanted. All with a backpack and a minute’s notice.

They could make love all night and sleep in till lunchtime.

Was there something so wrong with that?

He didn’t know a lot about babies but he did know that their lifestyle would have to change drastically. And they’d been having fun, hadn’t they? Travelling around the world with the charity organisation MedSurg Aid Abroad. Living rough, working hard, changing lives. Making a difference.

Seeing places and people and things, both good and bad, that few people ever got to experience in their lives. Touring the world while fulfilling their deep humanitarian beliefs. It was the ultimate lonely planet lifestyle and he didn’t want to give that up for nappies and 2 a.m. feeds.

But with the divorce papers in his hands, the reality of the situation was difficult to ignore. Did he really want to lose her over this? Maybe if he compromised?

‘Look, I’m not saying I don’t ever want a baby...maybe one day I’ll feel differently.’

‘I’m 35, Gill. I don’t have time to wait for you.’

Harriet could be very stubborn. She didn’t sugar-coat anything. If she felt it, she said it. ‘Are you sure? You’ve

had a year, Harry. I don’t see you pregnant yet.’

He heard her swiftly indrawn breath and wished he could withdraw the words.

‘You think I could go off with someone else and have a baby while I’m still married to you?’ she demanded. ‘You don’t know me at all, do you?’

So, he had made her angry — well, she could join the club. Her changing her mind about what she wanted from life had pissed him off, too.

‘I used to but, no, these days it seems I don’t know you at all. What the hell happened to no, Gill, I don’t want a baby,’ he mimicked. ‘Never, absolutely not, no way. Too many kids in this over-populated world, Gill. What happened to that?’ he asked. ‘So don’t blame me if this sudden desire to have a baby makes me think that you might just go off and do it without me!’

‘You know damn well why the suddenness, Guillaume Remy!’ she said, her voice a vicious whisper.

‘Because of Rose? Your little sister has a baby and suddenly your clock is ticking louder than a home-made bomb?’

‘Don’t be so bloody obtuse,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, Rose started it — how could you not want a baby when you look into Tom’s beautiful chubby face? But if you can’t understand why discovering that I only have one ovary and Fallopian tube could knock me for six, maybe I don’t know you either. I’m sorry I changed the plot on you, but when a gynaecologist tells me I might have trouble conceiving, it comes as a bit of a shock. Surely you can see that?’

No, he couldn’t. He was a man. And not just that but a man who didn’t have a paternal bone in his body. Sure, babies were cute — Tom was very cute. But their appeal had more to do with being grateful he could hand them back than any pleasure he took from holding them.

He’d had a close call as a med student that had scared the hell out of him. There had been no feelings of joy or expectancy, just a horrible sinking feeling that his life was over. He’d carried that experience with him always and, in his head, babies always equalled the end of your life.

As a doctor he had a great deal of empathy for the plight of the world’s poor and starving children often working like dogs from dusk to dawn in places torn apart by disease, war and poverty. He admired their strength and resilience and he’d spent many years patching them up when they were hurt or wounded, caught up in adult wars.

But he’d never had the desire to adopt any of them or have one of his own.

He had a strong sense of social responsibility and there was much he could offer this world. Having kids would just be a distraction from that purpose. His grandfather, who had grown up in Nazi occupied France before migrating to Australia after the war, had raised him to think of the plight of others and Gill had always felt immensely proud of the work he did.

But. He was holding divorce papers in his hand. Before him stood the woman he loved. Who loved him. And she was asking him for something. Was prepared to never see him again, to cut all ties. Was he that strong? Did his career mean more to him than her? Did the world’s children mean more to him than the one she so desperately craved?

He sighed. Saying goodbye to Harriet for ever wasn’t possible. Being apart from her for a year had been hard, but deep down he’d always known it was only temporary. That Harriet would work through her stuff and come back and they’d continue their lives.

But divorce? This was serious.

‘Look, OK. You want a baby? All right, then, fine. Let’s have a baby.’

He didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t Harriet’s cool, sceptical gaze. He’d hoped she’d leap into his arms and tear up the papers. Instead, her lips flattened into a terse line.

‘Don’t do me any favours, Gill.’

He would have been an idiot to miss the sarcasm. ‘I mean it, Harry.’

‘No, you don’t, Gill. You’re just trying to appease me.

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