“Of course I couldn’t move the child until the doctor who had delivered…”
“You don’t have to remind me of hospital procedure,” snapped Dr. Greenwood uncharacteristically. “What time did you come on duty?” he asked.
“Just after midnight,” she replied.
“And have you been in attendance since then?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did anyone else enter the nursery during that time?”
“No, doctor,” the nurse replied. She decided not to mention that about an hour ago she thought she’d heard a door close, or at least not while he was in such a foul mood. Dr. Greenwood stared down at the two cribs marked Cartwright, Nathaniel and Peter. He knew exactly where his duty lay.
“Take the child to the morgue,” he said quietly. “I’ll write up a report immediately, but I won’t inform the mother until the morning. No purpose will be served waking her at this hour.”
“Yes, sir,” said the nurse meekly.
Dr. Greenwood left the nursery, walked slowly down the corridor and stopped outside Mrs. Cartwright’s door. He opened it noiselessly, relieved to discover that his patient was fast asleep. After climbing the staircase up to the sixth floor, he carried out the same exercise when he reached Mrs. Davenport’s private room. Ruth was also sleeping. He glanced across the room to see Miss Nichol seated awkwardly in her chair. He could have sworn that she opened her eyes, but he decided not to disturb her. He pulled the door closed, walked to the far end of the corridor and slipped out onto the fire escape stairs that led to the parking lot. He didn’t want to be seen leaving by those on duty at the front desk. He needed some time to think.
Dr. Greenwood was back in his bed twenty minutes later, but he didn’t sleep.
When his alarm went off at seven he was still awake. He knew exactly what his first course of action must be, although he feared the repercussions could reverberate for many years.
Dr. Greenwood took considerably longer to drive back to St. Patrick’s for a second time that morning, and it wasn’t just because of the increased traffic. He dreaded having to tell Ruth Davenport that her child had died during the night, and only hoped it could be done without any accompanying scandal. He knew he would have to go straight to Ruth’s room and explain what had happened, otherwise he would never be able to go through with it.
“Good morning, Dr. Greenwood,” said the nurse on reception, but he didn’t respond.
When he stepped out on the sixth floor and began walking toward Mrs. Davenport’s room, he found his pace became slower and slower. He came to a halt in front of her door, hoping she would still be asleep. He eased it open, to be greeted with the sight of Robert Davenport sitting beside his wife. Ruth was holding a baby in her arms. Miss Nichol was nowhere to be seen.
Robert jumped up from his side of the bed.
“Kenneth,” he said shaking him by the hand, “we will be eternally in your debt.”
“You owe me nothing,” the doctor replied quietly.
“Of course we do,” said Robert, turning back to face his wife. “Shall we let him know what we’ve decided, Ruth?”
“Why not, then we’ll both have something to celebrate,” she said, kissing the boy’s forehead.
“But first I have to tell you…” began the doctor.
“No buts,” said Robert, “because I want you to be the first to know that I’ve decided to ask the board of Preston’s to finance the new maternity wing that you have always hoped would be completed before you retire.”
“But…” repeated Dr. Greenwood.
“I thought we agreed on no buts. After on, the plans have been drawn up for years,” he said, looking down at his son, “so I can’t think of any reason why we shouldn’t start on the building program right away.” He turned to face the hospital’s senior obstetrician. “Unless of course you…?”
Dr.
Greenwood remained silent.
When Miss Nichol saw Dr. Greenwood coming out of Mrs. Davenport’s private room, her heart sank. He was carrying the little boy in his arms and walking back toward the elevator that would take him to the special care nursery. As they passed each other in the corridor their eyes met, and although he didn’t speak, she was in no doubt that he was aware of what she must have done.
Miss Nichol accepted that if she was going to make a run for it, it had to be now. Once she had taken the child back to the nursery, she’d lain awake in the corner of Mrs. Davenport’s room for the rest of the night, wondering if she would be found out. She had tried not to stir when Dr. Greenwood had looked in. She had no idea what time it was because she didn’t dare glance down at her watch. She had quite expected him to call her out of the room and tell her he knew the truth, but he had left just as silently as he had come, so she was none the wiser.
Heather Nichol went on walking toward the private room, while her eyes remained firmly fixed on the fire escape exit at the far end of the corridor. Once she had passed Mrs. Davenport’s door she tried not to quicken her pace. She had only a couple of paces to go when she heard a voice she immediately recognized say, “Miss Nichol?” She froze on the spot, still staring toward the fire escape, as she considered her options. She swung around to face Mr. Davenport. “I think we need to have a private word,” he said.
Mr. Davenport stepped into an alcove on the other side of the corridor, assuming she would follow. Miss Nichol thought her legs would give way long before she collapsed into the chair opposite him. She couldn’t tell from the expression on his face if he also realized she was the guilty party. But then with Mr. Davenport you never could. It wasn’t in his nature to give anything away, and that was something he found difficult to change, even when it came to his private life. Miss Nichol couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stared over his left shoulder and watched Dr. Greenwood as the elevator doors closed.