Knight on the Children's Ward (6 page)

Annika Kolovsky he couldn't risk hurting.

A
T HER
request, things slowed down.

Stopped, really.

The occasional text, a lot of smiles, and a couple of coffees in the canteen.

It was just as well, really. There was no time for a relationship as her world rapidly unravelled.

Aleksi had hit a journalist and was on the front pages again.

Her mother was in full charity ball mode, and nothing Annika could say or do at work was right.

‘He's
that
sick from chicken pox?' Annika couldn't help but speak up during handover. Normally she kept her head down and just wrote, but it was so appalling she couldn't help it. An eight-year-old had been admitted from Emergency with encephalitis and was semi-conscious—all from a simple virus. ‘You can get
that
ill from chicken pox?'

‘It's unusual,' Caroline said, ‘but, yes. If he doesn't improve then he'll be transferred to the children's hospital. For now he's on antiviral medication and hourly obs. His mother is, of course, beside herself. She's got two others at home who have the virus too. Ross is just
checking with Infectious Diseases and then he'll be contacting their GP to prescribe antivirals for them too.' Caroline was so matter-of-fact, and Annika knew she had to be too, but she found it so hard!

Gowning up, wearing a mask, dealing with the mum.

She checked the IV solutions with a nurse and punched in the numbers on the IVAC that would deliver the correct dosage of the vital medication. She tried to wash the child as gently as she could when the Div 1 nurse left. The room was impossibly hot, especially when she was all gowned up, but any further infection for him would be disastrous.

‘Thank you so much.' The poor, petrified mum took time to thank Annika as she gently rolled the boy and changed the sheets. ‘How do you think he's doing?'

Annika felt like a fraud.

She stood caught in the headlamps of the mother's anxious gaze. How could she tell her that she had no idea, that till an hour ago she hadn't realised chicken pox could make anyone so ill and that she was petrified for the child too?

‘His observations are stable,' Annika said carefully.

‘But how do
you
think he's doing?' the mother pushed, and Annika didn't know what to say. ‘Is there something that you're not telling me?'

The mother was getting more and more upset, and so Annika said what she had been told to in situations such as this.

‘I'll ask the nurse in charge to speak with you.'

 

It was her first proper telling-off on the children's Ward.

Well, it wasn't a telling-off but a pep talk—and rather a long one—because it wasn't an isolated incident, apparently.

Heather Jameson came down, and she sat as Caroline tried to explain the error of Annika's ways.

‘Ross is in there now.' Caroline let out a breath. ‘The mother thought from Annika's reaction that there was bad news on the way.'

‘She asked me how I thought he was doing,' Annika said. ‘I hadn't seen him before. I had nothing to compare it with. So I said I would get the nurse in charge to speak with her.'

She hadn't done anything wrong—but it was just another example of how she couldn't get it right.

It was the small talk, the chats, the comfort she was so bad at.

‘Mum's fine.' Ross knocked and walked in. ‘She's exhausted. Her son's ill. She's just searching for clues, Annika.' He looked over to her. ‘You didn't do anything wrong. In fact he is improving—but you couldn't have known that.'

So it was good news—only for Annika it didn't feel like it.

 

‘It's not a big deal,' Ross said later, catching her in the milk room, where she was trying to sort out bottles for the late shift.

‘It is to me,' Annika said, hating her own awkwardness. She should be pleased that her shift was over, and tonight she didn't have to work at the nursing home, but tonight she was going to her mother's for dinner.

‘Why don't we—?'

‘You're not helping, Ross,' Annika said. ‘Can you just be a doctor at work, please?'

‘Sure.'

And she wanted to call him back—to say sorry for
biting his head off—but it was dinner at her mother's, and no one could ever understand what a nightmare that was.

 

‘How's the children's ward?'

Iosef and Annie were there too, which would normally have made things easier—but not tonight. They had avoided the subject of Aleksi's latest scandal. They had spoken a little about the ball, and then they'd begun to eat in silence.

‘It's okay,' Annika said, pushing her food around her plate.

‘But not great?' Iosef checked.

‘No.'

They'd been having the same conversation for months now.

She'd started off in nursing so enthusiastically, raving about her placements, about the different patients, but gradually, just as Iosef had predicted, the gloss had worn off.

As it had in modelling.

And cooking

And in jewellery design.

‘How's Ross?' Iosef asked, and luckily he missed her blush because Nina made a snorting sound.

‘Filthy gypsy.'

‘You've always been
so
welcoming to my friends!' Iosef retorted. ‘He does a lot of good work for your chosen charity.' There was a muscle pounding in Iosef's cheek and they still hadn't got through the main course.

‘Romany!' Annika said, gesturing to one of the staff to fill up her wine. ‘He prefers the word Romany to gypsy.'

‘And I prefer not to speak of it while I eat my dinner,' Nina said, then fixed Annika with a stare. ‘No more wine.'

‘It's my second glass.'

‘And you have the ball soon—you'll be lucky to get into your dress as it is.'

There was that feeling again. For months now out of nowhere it would bubble up, and she would suddenly feel like crying—but she never, ever did.

What she did do instead, and her hand was shaking as she did it, was take another sip of wine, and for the first time in memory in front of her mother she finished everything on her plate.

‘How are you finding the work?' Iosef attempted again as Nina glared at her daughter.

‘It's a lot harder than I thought it would be.'

‘I was the same in my training,' Annie said happily, sitting back a touch as seconds were ladled onto her plate.

Annika wanted seconds too, but she knew better than to push it. The air was so toxic she felt as if she were choking on it, and then she stared at her brother, and for the first time ever she thought she saw a glimmer of sympathy there.

Annie chatted on. ‘I thought about leaving—nursing wasn't at all what I'd imagined—then I did my Emergency placement and I realised I'd found my niche.'

‘I just don't know if it's for me,' Annika said.

‘Of course it isn't for you,' Nina said. ‘You're a Kolovsky.'

‘Is there anything you want help with?' Iosef offered, ignoring his mother's unhelpful comment. ‘Annie or I can go over things with you. We can go through your assignments…'

He was trying, Annika knew that, and because he was
her brother she loved him—it was just that they had never got on.

They were chalk and cheese. Iosef, like his twin Aleksi, was as dark as she was blonde. They were both driven, both relentless in their different pursuits, whereas all her life Annika had drifted.

They had teased her, of course, as brothers always did. She'd been the apple of her parents' eyes, had just had to shed a tear or pout and whatever she wanted was hers. She had adored her parents, and simply hadn't been able to understand the arguments after Levander, her stepbrother, had arrived.

Till then her life had seemed perfect.

Levander had come from Russia, an angry, displaced teenager. His past was shocking, but her father had done his best to make amends for the son he hadn't known about all those years. Ivan had brought him into the family and given him everything.

Annika truly hadn't understood the rows, the hate, the anger that had simmered beneath the surface of her family. She had ached for peace, for the world to go back to how it was before.

But, worse than that, she had started to wonder why the charmed life she led made her so miserable.

She had been sucked so deep into the centre of the perfect world that had been created for her it had been almost impossible to climb out and search for answers. She couldn't even fathom the questions.

Yet she
was
trying.

‘You could do much better for the poor orphans if you worked on the foundation's board,' Nina said. ‘Have you thought about it?'

‘A bit,' Annika admitted.

‘You could be an ambassador for the Kolovskys. It is good for the company to show we take our charity work seriously.'

‘And very good for you if it ever gets out that Ivan's firstborn was a Detsky Dom boy.' Iosef had had enough; he stood from his seat.

‘Iosef!' Nina reprimanded him—but Iosef was still, after all these years, furious at what had happened to his brother. He had worked in the orphanages himself and was struggling to forgive the fact that Levander had been raised there.

‘I'm going home.'

‘You haven't had dessert.'

‘Annie is on an early shift in the morning.'

Annie gathered up the baby, and Annika kissed her little niece and tried to make small talk with Annie as Iosef said goodbye to her mother, who remained seated.

‘Can I hold her?' Annika asked, and she did. It felt so different from holding one of the babies at work. She stared into grey trusting eyes that were like the baby's father's, and smiled at the knot of dark curls that came from her mother. She smelt as sweet as a baby should. Annika buried her face in her niece's and blew a kiss on her cheek till she giggled.

‘Annika?' Iosef gestured her out to the hall. ‘Would some money help?'

‘I don't want your money.'

‘You're having to support yourself,' Iosef pointed out. ‘Hell, I know what she can be like—I had to put myself through medical school.'

‘But you did it.'

‘And it was hard,' Iosef said. ‘And…' He let out a breath. ‘I was never their favourite.' He didn't mean it
as an insult; he was speaking the truth. Iosef had always been strong, had always done his own thing. Annika was only now finding out that she could. ‘How
are
you supporting yourself?'

‘I'm doing some shifts in a nursing home.'

‘Oh, Annika!' It was Annie who stepped in. ‘You must be exhausted.'

‘It's not bad. I actually like it.'

‘Look…' Iosef wrote out a cheque, but Annika shook her head. ‘Just concentrate on the nursing. Then—
then
,' he reiterated, ‘you can find out if you actually like it.'

She could…

‘Give your studies a proper chance,' Iosef said.

She stared at the cheque, which covered a year's wage in the nursing home. Maybe this way she
could
concentrate just on nursing. But it hurt to swallow her pride.

‘We've got to go.'

And they did. They opened the front door and Annika stood there. She stroked Rebecca's cheek and it dawned on her that not once had Nina held or even looked at the baby.

Her own grandchild, her own blood, was leaving, and because she loathed the mother Nina hadn't even bothered to stand. She could so easily turn her back.

So what would she be like to a child that wasn't her own?

‘Iosef…' She followed him out to the car. Annie was putting Rebecca in the baby seat and even though it was warm Annika was shivering. ‘Did they know?'

‘What are you talking about, Annika?'

‘Levander?' Annika gulped. ‘Did they know he was in the orphanage?'

‘Just leave it.'

‘I can't leave it!' Annika begged. ‘You're so full of hate, Levander too…but in everything else you're reasonable. Levander would have forgiven them for not knowing. You would too.'

He didn't answer.

She wanted to hit him for not answering, for not denying it, for not slapping her and telling her she was wrong.

‘You should have told me.'

‘Why?' Iosef asked. ‘So you can have the pleasure of hating them too?'

‘Come home with us,' Annie said, putting her arm around Annika. ‘Come back with us and we can talk…'

‘I don't want to.'

‘Come on, Annika,' Iosef said. ‘I'll tell Mum you're not feeling well.'

‘I can't,' Annika said. ‘I can't just leave…'

‘Yes, Annika,' Iosef said, ‘you can—you can walk away this minute if you want to!'

‘You still come here!' Annika pointed out. ‘Mum ignores every word Annie ever says but you still come for dinner, still sit there…'

‘For you,' Iosef said, and that halted her. ‘The way she is with Annie, with my daughter, about my friends…Do you really think I want to be here? Annie and I are here for you.'

Annika didn't fully believe it, and she couldn't walk away either. She didn't want to hate her mother, didn't want the memory of her father to change, so instead she ate a diet jelly and fruit dessert with Nina, who started crying when it was time for Annika to go home.

‘Always Iosef blames me. I hardly see Aleksi unless I go into the office, and now you have left home.'

‘I'm twenty-five.'

‘And you would rather have no money and do a job you hate than work in the family business, where you belong,' Nina said, and Annika closed her eyes in exhaustion. ‘I understand that maybe you want your own home, but at least if you worked for the family…Annika, think about it—think of the good you could do! You are not even
liking
nursing. The charity ball next week will raise hundreds of thousands of dollars—surely you are better overseeing that, and making it bigger each year, than working in a job you don't like?'