Douglas Kennedy - A Special Relationship

'Do I look that awful?' I asked quietly as he approached the bed.

'Stop talking rubbish', he said, leaning over to give me a peck on the head.

'You should've seen the other guy' I said, then heard myself laugh a hollow laugh.

'After the way you pitched forward last night, I expected much worse'.

'That's comforting to know. Why didn't you call me today?'

'Because, according to the ward sister, you weren't with us until after three'.

'But after three...'

'Conferences, deadlines, my pages to get out. It's called work'.

'You mean, like me? I'm work to you now, right?'

Tony took a deep annoyed breath; a way of informing me that he wasn't enjoying the route this conversation was taking. But despite my flattened drug-induced state, I still continued to play vexed. Because, right now, I felt so completely furious at everything and everyone - most especially, at the diffident man sitting on the edge of my bed, who had gotten me into this mess in the first place by knocking me up. The selfish shit. The little fucker. The...

And I thought these pills were supposed to smooth everything right out...

'You could ask me if the baby's all right', I said, my voice a paragon of tranquillized calm.

Another of Tony's exasperated intakes of breath. No doubt, he's counting the minutes until he can flee this place, and rid himself of me for another night. Then, if his luck holds out, I might just fall on my face again tomorrow, and I'll be incarcerated for another couple of days.

'I have been worried about you, you know', he said.

'Of course I know. Because you so radiate worry, Tony'.

'Is this what's called "post-traumatic shock"?'

'Oh, that's right. Try to write me off as Little Ms Loony Tunes. Rue the day you met me'.

'What the hell do they have you on?'

A voice behind Tony said, 'Valium, since you asked. And from what I've just overheard, it is not having the desired effect'.

Mr Desmond Hughes stood at the edge of the bed, my chart in his hand, his bi-focals resting on the extreme edge of his nose. I asked, 'Is the baby all right, doctor?'

Mr Hughes didn't look up from the chart.

'And a very good evening to you, Mrs Goodchild. And yes, all seems fine'. He turned towards Tony. 'You must be Mr Goodchild'.

'Tony Hobbs'.

'Oh, right', Hughes said, the only acknowledgment of Tony's name being the slightest of nods. Then he turned back to me and asked, 'And how are we feeling tonight? Bit of a ropey twenty-four hours, I gather'.

'Tell me about the baby, doctor'.

'From what I could see on the ultrasound scans, no damage was done to the baby. Now I gather you were admitted suffering from cholestasis'.

'What's that?' I asked.

'Chronic itching. Not uncommon among pregnant women... and it often arrives in tandem with pre-eclampsia, which, as you may know is...'

'High blood pressure?'

'Very good... though, clinically speaking, we prefer to call it a hypertension disorder. Now the good news is that pre-eclampsia is often characterized by a high level of uric acid. But your urine sample was relatively normal - which is why I consider you not to be suffering from pre-eclampsia. But your blood pressure is dangerously high. If left unchecked, it can be somewhat treacherous for both the mother and the child. Which is why I am putting you on a beta-blocker to stabilize your blood pressure, as well as an antihistamine called Piriton to relieve the cholestasis. And I would also like you to take 5mgs of Valium three times a day'.

'I'm not taking Valium again'.

'And why is that?'

'Because I don't like it'.

'There are lots of things in life we don't like, Mrs Goodchild... even though they are beneficial...'

'You mean, like spinach...?'

Tony coughed another of his nervous coughs. 'Uh, Sally...'

'What?'

'If Mr Hughes thinks that Valium will help you...'

'Help me?' I said. 'All it does is gag me'.

'Really?' Mr Hughes said.

'Very funny', I said.

'I wasn't trying to be amusing, Mrs Goodchild...'

'It's Ms Goodchild', I said. 'He's Hobbs, I'm Goodchild'.

A quick exchange of looks between Tony and the doctor. Oh God, why am I acting so weird?

'So sorry, Ms Goodchild. And, of course, I can't force you to take a substance that you don't want to take. At the same time, however, it is my clinical opinion that it will alleviate a certain degree of stress...'

'Whereas it's my on the spot opinion that the Valium is doing bad things to my head. So, no... I'm not touching the stuff again'.

'That is your prerogative - but do understand, I do think it is inadvisable'.

'Noted', I said quietly.

'But you will take the Piriton?'

I nodded.

'Well, that's something at least', Hughes said. 'And we'll continue to treat the cholestasis with calamine lotion'.

'Fine', I said again.

'Oh, one final thing', Hughes said. 'You must understand that high blood pressure is a most dangerous condition - and one which could cause you to lose the child. Which is why, until you have brought this pregnancy to term, you must essentially put yourself under no physical or emotional strain whatsoever'.

'By which you mean...?' I asked.

'By which I mean that you cannot work until after' -

I cut him off.

'Can't work? I'm a journalist - a correspondent. I've got responsibilities...'

'Yes, you do', Hughes said, interrupting me. 'Responsibilities to yourself and to your child. But though we will be able to partially treat your condition chemically, the fact of the matter is that only complete bed rest will ensure that you stay out of jeopardy. And that is why we'll be keeping you in hospital for the duration...'

I stared at him, stunned.

'The duration of my pregnancy?' I asked.

'I'm afraid so'.

'But that's nearly three weeks from now. And I can't just give up work...'

Tony put a steadying hand on my shoulder, stopping me from saying anything more.

'I'll see you on my rounds tomorrow, Ms Goodchild', Hughes said. With another quick nod to Tony, he moved on to the next patient.

'I don't believe it', I said.

Tony just shrugged. 'We'll deal with it', he said. Then he glanced at his watch, and mentioned that he had to get back to the paper now.

'But I thought you'd already put your pages to bed?'

'I never said that. Anyway, while you were unconscious, the Russian Deputy Prime Minister was rumbled for his involvement in a kiddie porn ring, and a little war's broken out among rival factions in Sierra Leone...'

'You have a man on the scene in Freetown?'

'A stringer. Jenkins. Not bad, for a lightweight. But if the thing blows up into a full-scale war, I think we'll have to send one of our own'.

'Yourself, perhaps?'

'In my dreams'.

'If you want to go, go. Don't let me stop you'.

'I wouldn't, believe me'.

His tone was mild, but pointed. It was the first time he'd directly articulated his feelings of entrapment. Or, at least, that's how it came over to me.

'Well, thank you for making that perfectly clear', I said.

'You know what I'm saying here'.

'No, actually, I don't'.

'I'm the Foreign Editor - and foreign editors don't dispatch themselves off to cover a pissy little firefight in Sierra Leone. But they do have to go back to the office to get their pages to bed'.

'So go then. Don't let me stop you'.

'That's the second time you've said that tonight'.

He placed his gift of newspapers and wilting flowers on the bedside table. Then he gave me another perfunctory kiss on the forehead.

'I'll be back tomorrow'.

'I certainly hope so'.

'I'll call you first thing in the morning, and see if I can get over here before work'.

But he didn't call me. When I rang the house at eight-thirty, there was no answer. When I rang the paper at nine-thirty, Tony wasn't at his desk. And when I tried his mobile, I was connected with his voice mail. So I left a terse message: 'I'm sitting here, already bored out of my mind, and I'm just wondering: where the hell are you? And why didn't you answer the phone? Please call me ASAP, as I really would like to know the whereabouts of my husband'.