In Jeopardy Page 17

  This new information gives Thornton new hope, however, he cautions his client against becoming too hopeful. This faint light that appeared on the horizon is replaced with a grey mass of clouds that hover over Christine and induces her head to ache.

  Thornton continues to talk as if unaware that Christine is at the other end of the line. She hears the word ‘strategy’ mentioned more than once while other words bounce off her mind without penetrating. Then she hears, ‘Are you still with me Christine?’

  She snaps back to the conversation. ‘I’m sorry, I must have drifted off.’

  ‘Where was I? As your legal adviser it is my duty to you as a client to recommend your best course of action. I’m always in your hands and obliged to act on your instructions.’

  Following these words she has become familiar with her mood flattens to despair and she adds no further comment.

  ‘Do you have any questions?’

  Half pleading, she asks if he can estimate a timeframe.

  ‘I don’t want to give you false expectations. Make an appointment for next week, I have some scenarios penned out and can elaborate on your options then advise you which one I believe is the best to take. Again, I can’t make any guarantees but your new information gives me confidence I can strike a better deal for you.’

  She reminds herself to avoid pinning too much faith on Thornton’s brash confidence and this new revelation which is possibly the wildcard they need to nail Richard. Despite her frustration, she can’t help relishing the thought of watching the smug look wash off her estranged husband’s face. This thought is replaced by Thornton’s sobering reminder that the legal process she has embarked on is tangled in red tape. She is at the mercy of an institution that moves at a creeping pace.

  Chapter Six

  This latest development isn’t the first time since Christine’s former husband threw her from his life that she has been given a lifeline. The hospital had enough faith in her work to offer her a role of greater responsibility that shifted her mind away from her collapsing world. In the same uncanny manner, accommodation materialised and her brother reappeared in her life. On the blackest days, alone, trapped by bleak circumstances, a single candle appeared not once but on three occasions. Each of these boons could have instead been further setbacks. In another life, she could have been abandoned, out in the cold and homeless. Possibly for the first time, she appreciates her good fortune.

  Despite this she becomes frustrated by the disparate threads that keep her life in limbo. The Blacks’ return to Melbourne and Julian’s to London are still up in the air, as is the final cut from Richard and when she will receive her share of the marriage spoils. How long can I remain at the vanguard of drama and tragedy unfolding at the hospital? Although she doesn’t have the answer to these questions, she is only half aware that it is time to move on as the winds of change swirl around her.

  Christine wonders if it is foolish to contemplate something born entirely from a dream. The hospital and her work have been her rock and the only components of her life that validated her worth, but she dismisses the thought of abandoning them.

  The doctor’s suggestion to scale back at work amounted to flying kites. She still doesn’t believe that she has reached the point where she is no longer coping with the rigors of hospital life. Julian was forced to reassess his work. Did this explain why he returned to Melbourne to reconnect with family, the friends he remained in touch with and the home of his youth? Travelling and extending his stay has served as a break from a life that is in need of an overhaul.

  Over the past days she came to the realisation that each shift at the hospital played out as the same tired scene, merely featuring a new cast of characters. She’s been an active player on the ward and is now puzzled at how suddenly she seems detached from this role. She blushes with shame at the thought that she has become indifferent to performing surgery and delivering post-operative care to trauma patients. Disturbed by these new thoughts she tells herself to snap back to reality and take stock of her situation.

  It is late morning when a school-age boy arrives at the hospital with his father. The boy woke up pale, had no appetite and wheezed on and off. The man decided to keep his son home, allowed him to sleep in, and called his work to inform them of his absence.

  The previous day the boy’s school celebrated a saint’s day pageant that included games and a lunch-time feast. His father assumed the excitement from the previous day had brought on mild asthmatic symptoms. Hours later the boy was brighter, dressed and ate a late breakfast. He complained he was bored and pleaded with his father to take him to the park to kick the soccer ball. The boy played hard and with vigour before succumbing to coughing, wheezing and breathlessness.

  The man drove his son to the park even though it was walking distance from their home. He thought there was an asthma pump in the glove-box then realised he had left it in his wife’s car as the family used the SUV on a weekend trip out of town.

  The boy’s asthma attack struck in the park. His father rushed him home to administer a dose of Ventolin, but his condition worsened. In a panicked state, the man carried his son into the Emergency Ward. The boy was limp, his wheezing fainter. He was losing the struggle to draw air into his lungs and began to turn blue.

  The man speaks in barely coherent phrases. His breathing is laboured from running hard and Christine hears panic in each breath as he chases the trolley racing along the corridor before the boy disappears into the treatment room.

  In a hushed tone Christine ushers the boy’s father into a small room. In the treatment room the boy has lost consciousness, the oxygen unit is hooked up and her colleague, Kim, administers CPR. Seconds tick by, the boy doesn’t respond to treatment, appearing more like a wax doll than one of the living. Christine waits for the boy’s heart to beat again, to gasp hungrily for that burst of oxygen that will activate his body to spring back to life.

  She is confronted by, then sternly chides herself, for her state of indifference as the patient loses his grip on life and tragedy awaits the family. Snap out of it Christine. If the team can’t revive the boy you will have to muster enough sympathy and visible compassion to deal with the father.

  She remains on standby, unable to act until the boy draws breath or until it’s too late. A shadow replicating an image of the boy emerges from his body, floats up and stands over it. The figure utters the following words at her, ‘Tell daddy I’m going to be okay. I promise I won’t scare him again.’

  The figure dissolves into the space it occupied as the boy’s body shudders back to life. The team springs into a flurry of activity to bring the boy back, relieved that the crisis is over.

  Christine leaves the room to reassure the man his son is safe and recovering.

  In the corridor she is unaware when Kath first calls her. She turns to her colleague who asks, ‘Did I drag you from another universe?’

  Half dismissing what she witnessed she says with a pretence of indifference, ‘No, just an asthma patient we brought back from the grave.’

  ‘One of the job’s hazards. Christine, you look pale, dazed, your eyes are glazed…’

  ‘I just need a break.’

  ‘I’m also on break. Join me for a cuppa.’

  At the cafe Kath insists on buying drinks.

  As she walks away from the table where Christine sits, she calls over her shoulder, ‘What will it be, coffee to fire you up, or herbal to calm you down?’

  ‘Whatever you think I need – Dr Kath.’

  She returns with hot drinks and fruit muffins. ‘You look wrecked – seriously.’

  ‘This place is getting to me.’

  ‘That’s not like you.’ Too late to reel back her words she continues, ‘Understandable, given your changed circumstances.’

  ‘That’s only part of it.’

  ‘If you want to talk you have my word I will listen – and keep it to myself.’

  ‘There’s too much to say to spill over a tea break.’


  ‘You can make a start.’

  Christine pauses before, on an impulse, she speaks her mind in a manner that disarms her. ‘I want to take extended leave – possibly never return to the hospital.’

  Kath listens, instinct instructing her to allow Christine to spill out what’s on her mind.

  ‘I have no plans, no idea of what other work I might do or the qualifications I would need for another occupation. With my divorce and property settlement far from resolved, my accommodation temporary, I don’t know what’s to become of me.’

  ‘You would benefit from taking leave – I strongly urge you to pursue this option.’

  ‘I doubt that a spell away from the hospital and the ward will change my desperation to leave.’

  ‘You need a break.’ She pauses, ‘I think you’re facing burnout.’

  ‘I agree, my personal circumstances and possible burnout explain why I’ve got to get out of here.’

  As Kath listens, she bites back her words. Christine, you’re intense to the point of dangerous obsession. Work is consuming your life. I despair for you Christine – your life is in jeopardy if you refuse to slow down.

  For the first time Christine sees herself as others might – brittle, austere and living in a vacuum. She suspects that her colleagues, Julian, and even her estranged husband, find her aloof.

  Before Christine leaves the hospital she acts on Kath’s advice and fills out a form requesting to reduce her workload from five to four days a week. At home she relays her decision to Julian. She tells him about the asthmatic boy and how they almost lost him. She hesitates, then decides to avoid telling him about the divine intervention she witnessed.

  ‘Yep – I’ve been there myself.’

  ‘Where – I’ve lost you?’

  ‘We were talking about the asthmatic boy who nearly died.’

  ‘And your brush with death impressed on you the frailty of human life?’

  ‘Before then I envisaged my life stretching into infinity. It wasn’t until I lay in the street that I stared death and its finality in the face.’

  ‘Have you considered that there might be life beyond death?’

  ‘I’m an atheist.’

  ‘Is that because of our Catholic upbringing?’

  ‘Absolutely! Mum and dad were pretty open-minded and encouraged free thinking while the church presented a grim world of polarities. If you were obedient and lived a saint’s life you inherited a place in heaven; if you weren’t you were damned and punished after death. The Church is a medieval paradigm with its cluster of powerful men. They are paper tigers perpetrating hollow myths.’

  ‘Did the papists scare you enough to turn you into an atheist?’

  ‘When I lost consciousness in the street no God or angels carried me to hospital. What about you? What impression did they make on you?’

  ‘By the time I was subjected to them they had loosened their grip.’

  ‘But they got you.’

  ‘I’m neither Christian nor atheist. The six years I spent at the Catholic girls’ school excited me in the beginning. We seemed to always be in church. God’s house was an exotic pantomime. The ancient chapel had a gabled roof decorated with wooden beams, marbled floors and statues of saints. Orchestral music, bells and the infusion of frankincense heightened the atmosphere. Stories of Jesus, miracles performed and his gruesome death were an amusing diversion from dull classroom subjects.

  ‘We celebrated saints’ days. These were elaborate puppet shows originally put in place by the founding fathers of St Peter’s church. By my last years of schooling I got tired of this. Stories that used to spark my imagination became dull fairy tales and part of the church’s childish games.’

  ‘Then you managed to avoid being swallowed up by their seductive propaganda?’

  ‘I just grew up and recognised that only children and the gullible believed those stories.’

  ‘You sound sensibly irreligious.’

  ‘Would you be surprised if I said I wasn’t?’

  Julian looks confused.

  ‘Have you ever seen or heard something you can’t explain?’

  ‘Like the girl I dated who turned out to be a boy?’

  ‘You’re a bit of a dark horse – not the straight brother I thought you were. That’s not the kind of strange encounter I’m talking about.’

  He looks at her enquiringly.

  ‘Has something ever dropped from the sky metres above your head then disappeared? Have you ever woken up at night and watched a figure walk out of a dream or from somewhere you can’t explain?’

  Julian shakes his head.

  ‘Bleary eyed and from my bed I have watched groups of figures, oblivious to my presence enter the room I am sleeping in then walk through the wall. Most of my life I have crossed paths with beings that are clearly not of this world.’

  ‘Have you recently had one of these experiences?’

  ‘You’re a sceptic aren’t you?’

  ‘It doesn’t mean I’m not interested in what you have to say.’

  ‘Since I first witnessed these occurrences I’ve never been afraid of what I’ve seen. Snapshots of future events tormented me. After the first dream materialised in my waking world I believed these visions were warnings of events that might unfold. Days before our parents were killed I woke up several nights in a row after viewing the scene of a car travelling along a street. This was followed by the explosion of a camera flash I later interpreted to be the car crash.’

  ‘This must be a burden.’

  ‘It’s not the kind of discussion I’d initiate with a colleague. I can’t risk having my professional judgment questioned, or worse, my sanity.’

  ‘Did you ever mention this to Richard?’

  ‘Shit no! He’d have laughed in my face. Despite his lifestyle, Richard’s conservatism would have forbidden him to entertain any ideas of the esoteric.

  ‘Since his sister Sylvia died when she was a child my former mother-in-law spoke about seeing her. She claimed to see her image in the fire, in water or clouds rolling across the sky. Richard reckoned his mother’s mind had gone to his sister’s grave. He believed that Sylvia had more power over his mother than anything from the here and now.’

  ‘Did you think he might use your secret as a weapon against you?’

  ‘No. As I said, I think it’s more likely that embarrassment would have silenced him. He wouldn’t want to risk his associates laughing behind his back that his wife’s a crackpot.’

  ‘So, your insight doesn’t assist you on such matters?’

  ‘It doesn’t provide readymade answers. I know my estranged husband well enough to expect that he would use any weapon against me if it served his interests – for this reason I’m glad I said nothing. I didn’t invite this strange phenomenon into my life and I’ve tried to push it away. The Church’s orthodox take on this type of activity condemns such phenomena; they judge it as dangerous and consorting with evil.’

  ‘Do you care what the Church thinks?’

  ‘No, but Christian teachings loosely reflect conventional belief.’

  ‘Do you realise how far we have strayed from our initial conversation?’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Your workload and welfare.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to say on the matter. You tell me, the doctor tells me, Kath tells me to scale back my work and I have.’

  ‘I’m afraid that fewer hours at the hospital will be sucked up by another form of busyness.’

  She gives a brief, bleak laugh. ‘I’m exhausted. What could tempt me?’

  ‘Your latest step is impressive. Take it further by taking leave. Your work will always be there to return to.’

  ‘I can’t consider that option since I no longer have the luxury of a wealthy husband to prop up my life.’

  ‘You could consider a career change.’

  ‘I don’t need the added burden of finding new employment. I want to spend my day off sleeping in.’

  He chuckl
es, ‘Now that’s a step in the right direction.’

  Julian and Kath set wheels of fire turning in Christine’s mind. She gives her best to her patients, pulling many of them from death and back to life. She embraces the challenges her vocation throws at her. Work at the hospital is far preferable to Richard’s expectation that she become a bored and indulged society wife. She could have complied with his expectations and been the perfect decoration, joined a book or tennis club and spent her days engaged in small talk around the pool, sipping chardonnay.

  There has to be another occupation she can turn her hand to. Her life is ripe for change and the seeds of impatience have been sown around her bones.

  Chapter Seven

  Christine’s day off work leaves her less harried. As weeks pass she wants to pull further away from the hospital. She doesn’t miss the rushed pace, the blood, the broken bones and the ever turning treadmill. Away from work she increasingly combs her mind and mulls over alternative career paths. Some of these options require training and further study. While the divorce and settlement process grinds on these are plans she has to put on hold. Change hangs in the wind, but hinges on closing the final chapters of her marriage as she contemplates a new life. She approaches the hospital administration and enquires about her leave entitlement then applies for leave. As she waits for the application to be processed she makes plans to research other career options.

  Over a break in the cafeteria she tells Kath about her plans. ‘While I’m waiting for the divorce and property settlement to come through I could work in Myer, another equally iconic department store, or a zoo.’

  Kath’s blank look doesn’t disguise her doubts about Christine’s sentiments.