When the Bough Breaks by Connie Monk Page B

operation.’
    Dennis scanned through the words but his mind was incapable of understanding. Kathie . . . Kathie who had never had a day’s illness . . . a tumour . . . in good hands . . . yes, but could even the cleverest of surgeons make her well?
    â€˜She’s always been well,’ he murmured more to himself than the doctor. ‘If they take it all away, will she get well?’
    As the sister scurried off with the signed form the doctor sat on the bench by Dennis’s side.
    â€˜There is always risk with any form of surgery. But assuming that it hasn’t spread into other organs we must hope and trust that she will soon be restored to her normal good health – bearing in mind, of course, that she will be unable to have more children.’
    â€˜We’ve been married for ten years, you know. We wanted children and I know how much she cared that she could never conceive. I wish to God she had gone on being disappointed, then this might never have happened.’
    â€˜No, my dear chap, carrying the child has been a blessing in disguise. She might have gone on far longer not knowing anything was amiss if the wretched thing had had more space to grow.’
    â€˜What are they doing to her now?’ Dennis ran his fingers round the collar of his shirt. Despite not being able to stop shivering he felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. The sweat of fear; not for the first time he felt it. Memories crowded back on him. In the contentment and satisfaction of their life at Westways he had believed the past had lost its power. Then in the strange way that a mind can jump from one thing to another, he became conscious that he was still in his work clothes. ‘Straight from the field,’ he muttered as if he expected Dr Knight to have followed his thoughts.
    â€˜As soon as she is fully unconscious they will perform the Caesarean – indeed they are probably bringing your child into the world at this minute.’
    They waited in silence. Five minutes or five hours, to Dennis it was like all eternity. Then the sister came from a double door at the far end of the corridor, hurrying toward them with a beaming smile.
    â€˜Congratulations, Mr Hawthorne. You have a beautiful daughter. She’s just being got ready to face the world and then I’ll let you have a quick peep. After that I’m afraid we shall have to ask you to leave.’
    â€˜And Kathie? My wife?’
    â€˜I’ll make sure you have the telephone number so that you can ring us in the morning.’
    â€˜Ring? Can’t I see her? Can’t I wait until the operation is over? Kathie will want me. We have a daughter; we ought to see her together.’
    â€˜I’m afraid the rules don’t allow anyone here waiting. There is a list of visiting hours in the reception area, you’ll see it as you go out. Wednesday and Sunday from three until four in the afternoons.’ Then, with a smile intended to take that frightened look from the poor man’s face, she added, ‘If we gave people access at other times we’d never be able to give our patients the care they deserve. Now you wait a few more minutes and I’ll bend the rules and bring your new daughter out for you to see.’
    Doctor Knight took his watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and checked the time. ‘I can wait a few more minutes,’ he said, ‘then I’ll drive you back to Sedgewood with me.’
    Dennis’ instinct was to refuse, to say that if they wouldn’t let him wait on the bench in the hospital he would go to one of the shelters on the seafront. Then in the morning instead of telephoning he would call in and enquire and perhaps they’d let him have a minute or two with Kathie. But at home there were animals to be looked after; and Kathie would need clean nightdresses brought in . . . please God, please make it be like that, make her need her things, don’t take her away from me. Then