Paperback
-
PICK UP IN STORECheck Availability at Nearby Stores
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504905626 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 03/31/2016 |
| Pages: | 268 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.61(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Death of a Pregnant Woman
A Rhodes and Burrows Mystery
By Brian W. Strutt
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2016 Brian W. StruttAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-0562-6
CHAPTER 1
During the night it had rained leaving the air fresh and sweet. Clutching the virgin white smock tightly about her body, Eve ran down the steps of the ivy clad red brick building designated as the medical residents' quarters, built over two hundred years ago as a country mansion, into which the builder could escape the dirt, smoke and fog of London. It had now matured into a classic Georgian structure so covered in ivy that it was difficult to tell the colour of the bricks for the first two of its four storeys. Inside, it's previously lavish interior of thirty or more bedrooms, three great halls, two ballrooms and half dozen sitting rooms now provided accommodation for the eighteen or so unmarried medical staff of St. Mary's Hospital. The almost derelict house had been commandeered at the beginning of World War II and a military hospital had been built on its accompanying two-hundred acres of land. After the war it had been made part of the British National Health System.
The residential buildings external covering of vines, ivy, roses and honeysuckle provided habitation for a myriad squirrels; birds, of all kinds, and untold numbers of insects, all of which joined in the noisy dawn chorus which welcomed each fine new day and this day was no exception to the rule.
The sun shone out of an almost cloudless sky slowly dissipating the early morning mist which gently clung to the ground, covering it like a soft blanket. Eve felt, as much as heard, the chorus of birds and insects which filled the space around her as the cold freshness of the morning stung her nostrils. That she had hurried down the York stone steps, leading from the old solid oak door of the residency two at a time, meant even to her stunned mind that she was late; late for her first day back at St. Mary's.
The alarm had failed her. Failed her? She queried to herself. Electric clock radios don't malfunction! Her brain screamed back. Avoidance on her part perhaps! But the clock had fulfilled its function; it was she who had tried to ignore its constant scream until she had switched it to its radio function. Why, but why? She continued to argue with herself as she stepped off the broken crazy paving path leading from the residency building onto the immaculately cut, bright green grass of the hospital lawns. After all, it was her choice to return to St. Mary's and nobody had twisted her arm into coming.
The sudden shock of the cold early morning dew struck at the sides of her feet between the thin straps of her high heeled, snake skin sandals.
"Damn!" Eve exclaimed out loud. "I should have known better, and worn the old fashioned standard white shoes that every nurse wears. The ones with good solid crepe soles that cushion one's feet from the hard tiled floors and dampness of the outside pavements," she continued aloud to nobody in particular. A Nurse Wears? Her mind queried. But you're not a nurse anymore, nor will you ever be again.
It had been nearly fourteen years since Eve McAllister, totally English in spite of her very Scottish name, had set off from St. Mary's Hospital, leaving behind her patients and the hospital staff. Oh yes, the staff with their biting sense of humour and often callous and blatant delight in other staff members' problems.
She could still clearly see the green half tiled walls of the hospital corridors and the ever present smell of disinfectant and anesthetics which seemed not only to cling to the wards and corridors, but also to one's clothing and hair. The sight of the large low red and yellow brick, multi-warded buildings, stirred both good and bad memories of what now seemed like her short stay here as a nurse.
The hospital scandalmongers had certainly been a catalyst for Eve to leave the hospital where, as she was at the time, a Sister on the Pediatric Ward. Frustrated with nursing, she left England for Canada to attend McMaster Medical School in Hamilton, Ontario, to train as a physician. She had heard, it was one of the most far sighted medical training facilities in the world; even though it still taught in the now almost old fashioned apprenticeship style, once so common in England, whereby students were introduced to patients on almost their first day and then assigned for a number of weeks training and tuition to a rotation of senior staff, each an expert in his field. The rotations were intense, involving long hours of practice as well as classroom study. Eve wondered just how many of the old staff here, at St Mary's still worked at the same job they had been doing when she left, and how much or little they had changed in her absence. It seemed to her, she was always starting again, but this time she was returning, but returning to what, and why was she returning to St Mary's?
Memories bombarded her as she continued to make her way across the hospital grounds, taking her back to a much earlier first day. She could still smell the scent of fresh meat that greeted her each morning as she had walked through West Smithfield and the heart of one of the world's largest meat markets, where white clad porters, hefting sides of beef, or carcasses of pigs or sheep, scurried in all directions. Further on were the dome and scales of justice of the Central Criminal Court, known as the Old Bailey, always in view and appearing to be passing judgment on all it surveyed, and between the two – Smithfield and the Old Bailey, - stood the ancient buildings of St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
It seemed like yesterday, yet it had been twenty-four years since she as a student nurse, totally awestruck by the hustle and bustle, had first passed under the porticos at the Queen Anne Gate of the teaching hospital and the institution affectionately known to all Londoners as 'Bart's'.
She recalled the story she had been told of how the hospital came into existence. Not only did England and the rest of the common-law world have William the Conqueror and his Norman knights to thank for its legal system but also for many of the churches and associated support systems. It is reported that by 1183, less than 120 years after the 'Conquest', London had a parish church to every three acres or a place to worship for every three hundred of the then forty thousand of its population.
Twenty-four years after that first arrival at St. Bart's, the dampness of the grass at St Mary's so typical of the heavy dew found on the beautifully manicured spring lawns of so many English hospitals, sent a cold chill through Eve's body and brought her back to reality. Swiftly she pulled her new white cotton, standard issue medical coat tightly around her slim, yet shapely figure.
If, as she had told herself, she wanted to arrive on her first day with as little fanfare as possible, she was doing a fairly lousy job of it by arriving both late and with wet feet.
Eve, in her adult form, had never been what you would call inconspicuous. Five feet seven inches tall, she had the sort of long shapely legs that any hosiery manufacturer would be please to use on television, billboards or in magazines to advertise their products. The legs ended in a torso that any size eight outfit would be equally enhanced by and her straight back led to a small delicate head, in which high cheek bones gave emphasis to both her petite, yet perfectly shaped nose and mouth, while, at the same time, taking nothing away from her round deep hazel eyes. Her face was framed by a mass of long thick hair the colour of a Saskatchewan prairie sunset which constantly changed colour ever so slightly as the light played tricks with it. The general expression, always clearly visible on her face was that inwardly she was laughing at some secret joke.
Outwardly, Eve always gave the impression of complete and utter confidence. Her stride was long and sure but light, almost that of a ballet dancer or a well-trained model with a posture, upright and definite, totally hiding the deep uncertainty that she often felt about herself as a woman. No-one, though, watching her today crossing the lush green quadrangle of grass between the residents building and the sun soaked portals of the main hospital building; would ever guess. At least, Eve hoped not.
CHAPTER 2"Morning, Nurse McAllister".
Eve had failed to hear the approaching footsteps behind her and the voice startled her. "Oh, err, good morning," she stammered out in the somewhat surprised, weak voice of someone in a state of shock.
"You don't remember me?" queried an elderly man, dressed also in a white coat with a rather old and well-worn stethoscope hanging from his left pocket which he appeared to be constantly trying to keep in place.
"You're Dr. Swampscott, aren't you?" the name came to her in the nick of time.
"The very same, but a few years older I'm afraid. Then none of us get any younger, do we?" he continued as they walked side by side towards the main hospital entrance. "I thought we had seen the last of you. Suspected you would have been married by now, with a couple of youngsters of your own."
"No such luck." replied Eve, a sudden darkness entering into her eyes and sweeping across her face, giving Jake Swampscott a clear message not to pursue the matter any further.
"It's a beautiful morning, is it not?" he said changing the subject abruptly, his strong Scottish ancestry coming to the fore. "I think this time of the day is the bonniest, don't you?
"I do ag-r-e-e," but Eve's words suddenly trailed off as they seemed to stick in her throat. Another man was coming towards them. It couldn't be. Yet how could she be wrong? After all she did have twenty/twenty vision at least for that distance.
"Well, off to the path lab!" she dimly heard Jake Swampscott remark as he branched off towards the east door of the secondary hospital building where the pathology department was housed. Suddenly she recalled that Jake was one of the most prestigious pathologists in Europe.
"I must be wrong, I must be wrong!" she repeated out loud to no one in particular. "Not again, No! Not ever again." Her final thoughts were shattered as she came face to face or rather face to chest with a green surgeon's smock blocking out the rest of the world from her field of vision.
"So you really couldn't keep away?" the deep baritone voice demanded, scorn, ridicule and accusation giving a knowing emphasis to the remark.
Eve panicked. "It couldn't be. It mustn't be". She had only come to St. Mary's because she had heard he was in Sydney, Australia. So how could he be here causing her already fragile self-confidence to shatter like fine crystal, dropped onto a stone floor. "Mark," she was eventually able to say.
Dr. Mark Topham took one step back up the steps leading to the front entrance door of the hospital and stopped. Suddenly Eve felt her hundred and twenty pounds grasped firmly around her waist by two strong hands, lifted, turned and deposited two steps above him, so as to place her at a level at which his deep brown eyes, could pierce through hers, into her very soul.
Eve's heart missed a few beats before she screamed "Put me down. Who do you think you are?" Sudden panic had once again set in as she felt the involuntary hardening of her nipples and an uncommon warmth flood her body.
"The whole affair had been over for seven years. So why is this happening?" she questioned herself as she struggled to free herself of the hands which still held her by the waist. Slowly his grip relaxed as a broad grin spread across his face.
"Don't you ever do that again." snarled Eve.
"Do what? Greet an old friend as if you're pleased to see her?" he mocked as a smile lit up his entire face.
"You know what I mean!" Eve snapped back. "Anyone would think you had rights. Well you don't. Not now, nor ever for that matter," she threw over her shoulder as she turned and climbed the last few steps to the heavy oak doors, with their deeply etched glass panels which gave entry to the main corridor of the hospital and safety she thought.
The antiseptic smell of the hospital was in sharp contrast to the perfume of the fresh dew laden grass and flowers outside. The strong and heady smell of Mark's aftershave still filled her nostrils, blocking out her sense of reality towards the entire situation. He hasn't changed she thought to herself; he even still uses 'Boucheron' aftershave lotion.
"Dr. McAllister, Dr. McAllister, please report to pediatrics." The loudspeaker message assaulted her inner consciousness, smashing away the negative spell cast by Mark Topham's unexpected presence.
It seemed strange to be referred to as Doctor; particularly here at St. Mary's where for so long she had heard. "Nurse, get this, nurse get that, nurse, Mr. Jones needs a bed pan." 'My, those bed pans. That's one job hopefully, I will never have to do again,' she mussed to herself as she quickly made her way to the pediatric ward. 'But then there had been Mark,' she continued to think.
When she and Mark had met, he had been in the second year of his orthopedic residency. He seemed at the time somewhat out of place. Six feet three, one hundred and ninety five pounds with deeply tanned rugged features protected by a mass of dark brown curly hair and hands the size of baseball mitts, he looked more suitable to be a rugby quarterback than a surgeon. Although his hands were large and strong, she knew only too well that they were also gentle hands; loving and caring.
"Damned Mark," she said out loud as she continued to walk along the once familiar corridors. "Why of all people did he have to be here, and today in particular, my first day back, in my new capacity as a doctor?"
Her capacity as a doctor! The sudden realization of the fact brought her back to the here and now. She was here to do the job she had spent years training for, not to be thrown by the sight of Mark Topham. He was part of the past and that was where he was to stay. The corridor to the pediatric ward seemed endless, as first one person then another wished her welcome.
"It's good to see you back, Eve." She hadn't noticed Jean Pargeter fall into step beside her.
"Oh, hi Jean. It's good to be back." Eve replied with just the slightest hesitancy in her voice. She hoped it was not sufficient to have Jean notice.
"I hear your joining me on peds." Jean was the charge nurse responsible for the pediatric ward and she didn't wait for an answer. "We certainly have a lot of customers waiting for you."
"Anyone of particular interest?" How callous and cold thought Eve as she asked the question, and so unlike her, she realized.
"One that's a complete mystery to us," responded Jean as she adjusted her stride to a closer match with Eve's. "I'll take you to see him first unless you have anything urgent to do or anyone to see immediately. This boy has been here two weeks full-time and never said a word in terms of normal speech."
"Any idea of the problem Jean? Perhaps he's just homesick!" suggested Eve.
That doesn't appear to be either the lay opinion or the professional diagnosis. Also we have seen him a few times previously, and he has always been the same." Jean explained feeling pleased to be back in harness with Eve, one of her oldest friends at St. Mary's, or anywhere else come to that. Training together had built a close affinity between them starting from the first moment they had discovered they were to share the same room for their period of nursing training and this coming after boarding school.
"Has Dr. Dryant seen him yet?" enquired Eve as they entered the children's ward. Eve never heard Jeans' answer as her full attention was drawn to the area they were entering.
It had all changed since she had been responsible for the ward. She had heard that the new administrator had made a few improvements but this was beyond her wildest expectations. The drab hospital green and cream walls had been replaced by many bright and cheerful pastel shades. Each wall had murals: Peter Rabbit stories for the younger children's area, and space ships together with other fictional Star Wars characters for the older children. Her astonishment was obvious.
All she had worked for, fought for, screamed for, clawed for and demanded was here. The naked hospital type lamps had been replaced by lamps in the form of mobiles in character with each individual room's décor in the shape of birds, animals and space ships busily flying overhead. Even the mothers had not been left out. The hospital provided bed- sitting rooms for their day and night use so that very young, and the sometimes not so very young children, need not suffer the additional trauma of separation from their mothers. Eve just stood there dazed and unable to believe her eyes.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Death of a Pregnant Woman by Brian W. Strutt. Copyright © 2016 Brian W. Strutt. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.