Page 48 of Prognosis Christmas Baby

‘Of course, we haven’t worked out final seating anyway.’

He chanced another glance at Maggie. Her face was neutral. Hard to read. Did she want him there? Moreover, could he sit near her, dressed to the nines without wanting to touch her?

Probably not.

‘Thank you. I’d be honoured.’

Maggie was relieved when Nash’s pager beeped and he excused himself. Standing next to him, pretending nothing had happened between them, was weird. Standing next to him, knowing she was carrying his child, was plain bizarre.

‘Hmm-mmm,’ Linda murmured. ‘Now there’s some eye candy that’s gonna look smokin’ in a tux.’

Maggie shook her head at her friend’s blatant ogling. It felt strange to witness another woman’s admiration given how intimately she knew Nash. She even felt a streak of white-hot jealousy stab her in the chest. ‘Hey. What about Phil?’ she protested.

Linda shook her head. ‘I love Phil to death and think he’s the most gorgeous man alive. But just cos I’m married, Maggie, doesn’t mean I’m dead. I can appreciate a fine-looking specimen of manhood as much as the next woman. And that man has it in spades.’ Linda shook her head. ‘They’re gonna adore him over there. He’s going to break a stack of English hearts.’

Maggie swallowed. She knew it was the truth. But it hurt. God, how it hurt.

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Maggie spent the entireshift trying to get Toby to smile. He looked at her solemnly, his ET tube protruding from his nose like a trunk, his arms wrapped in splints so he couldn’t pull it or any of his lines out.

He’d been shifted from the high-frequency ventilation back to conventional, which had been a huge step forward. His kidneys were winning the battle and he was having a trial period off the dialysis machine to see if his urine output kept up both in quantity and quality.

Maggie hoped so. Toby had been through a lot in the last weeks and really deserved a lucky break. Poor kid was utterly miserable. He cried any time anyone went near him. A mournful silent wail, his blue eyes filling with tears, his little face screwed up in abject misery.

Not that Maggie could blame him.

He’d been put through the wringer. Tubes and tests and suctioning and X-rays. Taking one step forward only to slide two steps back. Even his mother was persona non grata with the little boy.

Maggie looked up a few hours into the shift and saw her crying. She rounded the bed, put her arm around Alice’s shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze.

‘He looks at me like I’m the enemy,’ she murmured.

‘No,’ Maggie denied gently as the little boy eyed her like she was going to murder him. ‘He reserves that look for the nurses.’

‘Well, he looks at me with this expression that just says why? Why are you letting them do it to me?’

‘I know,’ Maggie murmured. ‘He’s young and he can’t possibly understand. He’s been through a lot, Alice. He’s been very sick but he’s clawing his way back. His humour will improve as he starts to feel better.’

Alice wiped her eyes. ‘I know,’ she said reaching out and squeezing Toby’s hand. ‘Thanks, Maggie. You have no idea how much we appreciate the support you guys give us. You’re angels, all of you.’

Maggie had never been comfortable with how people equated nurses with angels. Yes, she loved her job and she liked to think she went above and beyond. But she was human with human failings.

At no time was that more evident than right now as the ever-present nausea twisted through her gut.

Alice popped out a couple of hours later and Maggie sat with Toby as he cried great silent sobs and looked behind him, searching for his mother. She read to him for a bit and then tried to interest him a game of peek-a-boo.

‘Oh, dear, Toby’s not a happy camper.’

Maggie looked up as Nash approached the other side of Toby’s bed. ‘No. He’s not.

Nash reached for a disposable glove. ‘I think Toby needs a pet fish,’ he said.

Scrunching the opening together like the neck of a balloon, he blew into it. The glove, including the five fingers, inflated, looking like an udder. Toby stopped crying and watched the process warily.

Nash tied the end where he’d blown into and then inverted it. He took his pen out of his pocket and drew in some scales and two eyes. It now looked like some bizarre mutant fish with a pointy nose and giant spines. But at least it looked like a fish.

‘Ta-da,’ Nash announced. He watched the mistrust on Toby’s face. ‘Tough crowd,’ he remarked to Maggie.

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