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Mariam was getting more anxious by the minute. ‘What’s wrong with my baby?’
Arissa gave Philippe a quick nod of her head. It didn’t matter that this was her clinic. She’d never had a child with meningitis before and it was clear that Philippe had got this.
He bent to speak to Mariam. ‘We have to act quickly, Mariam. I think Rosni might have meningococcal meningitis. I can see from her chart she’s had her first vaccination but not the rest.’
‘She’s been sick. There hasn’t been time...’
Philippe put his hand on Mariam’s shoulder. ‘This isn’t your fault. We don’t normally see meningitis in babies as young as Rosni. She’s just unlucky.’
‘You’re sure that’s what it is?’ Mariam’s voice was trembling.
He gave a sorry nod. ‘I’ve heard this scream only once before.’
Arissa stepped up alongside him. ‘It’s important we give Rosni antibiotics as soon as possible. We have them here—for emergency circumstances like these.’
‘Shouldn’t she go to hospital?’
Arissa nodded. ‘Yes, absolutely. But if we call an ambulance now it will still be over an hour before you reach the hospital. We’ll start the antibiotics now before we call the ambulance.’
Philippe picked Rosni up and put her on the baby scale for a second, taking a quick note of her weight. It only took a few moments to work out how much of the medicines to give the baby and Philippe found a tiny vein quickly to slide in an IV portal. ‘Just as well you’ve got these,’ he said quietly as Arissa bent beside him to assist.
She gave a brief nod. ‘Let’s just say we’ve learned over the years to plan for every contingency.’ Her shirt was sticking to her back and she gave an uncomfortable shudder. ‘But I’m glad I’ve never had to do this before.’
His hand closed over hers for a few seconds as she passed over the syringe with the antibiotics. His eyes turned to the clock to begin the administration. ‘Hopefully this is a one-off,’ he said. ‘You call the ambulance, then I guess we’ll spend the rest of the day contact tracing.’
She sucked in a breath. She hadn’t even thought of that. Of course.
She couldn’t help but admire how smoothly he’d handled all this. It was likely she would have gone outside to see whose baby had been crying like that—but would she have recognised the signs of meningitis as quickly as Philippe had?
As an ER doc it was likely he’d had cases before. Any case she’d dealt with in paediatrics had already been diagnosed, or been under investigation, by the time they’d got to her. She’d had to perform lumbar punctures to guarantee a diagnosis on small children before, but most of the initial diagnostics had already been recognised.
Arissa made the call for the ambulance, then phoned the referral through to the hospital so they would be ready to expect the patient. She then grabbed a chart to make some notes and went back to Mariam. ‘I know you also have a son, Mariam. Are there any other children in the house?’
She shook her head. ‘Just my son, Vasan. He’s three.’
Arissa took a quick note. ‘I’ll arrange for some oral antibiotics for your son. Anyone else in the household? Or has Rosni been at nursery?’ She tried to be as methodical as possible, taking all the notes she should to ensure that anyone potentially exposed to meningitis would be identified and protected.
Philippe continued the slow and steady administration of the antibiotic, monitoring the baby for any reaction. Rosni was still agitated—the medications taking time to take effect. The ambulance arrived around fifteen minutes later, the paramedic more than capable of dealing with their charge.
By the time the ambulance left Arissa was exhausted. She slumped against the door jamb and took a deep breath.
Philippe sat down at one of the tables and put his head in his hands. She realised instantly he was upset, much more than his calm demeanour had implied. She walked over and, after hesitating for a second, sat down at right angles to him, close enough to touch him.
She reached up her hand, holding it just next to his hand before changing her mind and edging her seat closer. She took both his hands in hers and lowered them to the table. His head was still bowed. So, she took a deep breath and lowered her head so her forehead was against his.
His voice was low, throaty. ‘Once you hear the cry you never forget it.’
His breath was warm next to her skin. She could see the faintest tremble in his hands. She licked her lips slowly then asked the question. ‘When did you hear the cry before?’
He shivered. His eyes still closed. ‘A few years ago in another ER. I’d just come on shift. The woman had been in the waiting room for a few hours.’
Arissa’s stomach sank. From his reaction she could almost guess what might have happened. ‘How did that baby do?’
He clenched her fingers tightly. ‘He made it—but barely. His vaccinations were up to date, but his mum had put him to bed and given him some acetaminophen when he’d developed a fever. She’d brought him in to the ER in the middle of the night when he hadn’t settled.’
‘And she was still waiting when you came on duty?’
He nodded and winced. ‘There had been a road traffic accident, and a house fire. No one had a chance to properly assess the baby.’
She squeezed his hands. ‘But you did.’
He shook his head slightly. ‘It was almost too late. The baby fitted within a few minutes. It was a few days before we knew if the baby would live or die.’ He licked his lips. ‘The baby recovered, but there were some long-term effects. He lost his hearing. If I’d got to him quicker...’ His voice trailed off.
He stopped talking, his eyes closing again. It was the first time she’d ever seen him shaken. How much had it taken for him to hold things together while Mariam and her baby had been here?
She took a deep breath. ‘I’m really sorry to hear about that baby, to hear about how busy the ER was. I’m sorry for him, and the fact that he lost his hearing.’ She sucked in another breath. ‘But, Philippe, I’m not sorry you heard the cry. I’m not sorry that today you recognised the cry instantly and acted appropriately. If I’d been on my own, it might have taken me a bit longer to reach the diagnosis, and we both know that time is of the essence.’ She pulled one of her hands free of his and reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You did good today, Philippe. You’ve probably saved Rosni’s life—and the rest of the family that’s been exposed.’
He opened his eyes, his lashes only an inch from hers. His dark eyes were so deep, so full of emotion that she blinked back tears. ‘You did good today, Philippe. Don’t forget that. We all have cases we can’t ever forget.’
It was odd. She’d never expected to get so up close and personal with this man who was still a bit of a mystery to her. But this just felt so right. He was her colleague. He was helping her. He had likely just saved a baby’s life and that had obviously brought back some hidden memories.
She gave him the smallest smile. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You made a difference today. That’s all we can ever ask.’
And they sat there, foreheads touching, until the first patient arrived for the vaccination clinic.
CHAPTER SIX
HE WAS UNSETTLED. If he tried to be rational about things he would put it down to the baby conjuring a wave of memories and emotions and the frustration he’d felt first time around.
But it wasn’t the baby. He’d checked on Rosni, and after a few days in hospital she’d made a good recovery thanks to the early administration of antibiotics. None of the other family members or kids at nursery had developed symptoms. So, he should be happy. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t think straight.
Maybe it was the pressure of the job awaiting him back home. Maybe it was the million and one ideas that were clamouring for space in his head about how he could reform health services in Corinez. He had to start somewhere. His head
was swimming. So many things needed to change back home.
But the truth was he knew exactly what was unsettling him. The days were marching on in Temur Sapora and his relationship with Arissa was growing every day. They worked well together, almost anticipating each other’s requests, and at the end of each day, they sat down together, debriefed, then generally spent the evening in each other’s company.
Sometimes it was dinner in a local restaurant, other times they grabbed a takeaway. Sometimes it was just a walk around the streets or down to the beach. But the more time he spent with the quietly gorgeous, unassuming doctor, the more time he wanted to spend with her. And she still didn’t know who he was.
The thing that had initially just been a vague and unimportant secret was beginning to feel like the elephant in the room. Why hadn’t he just told her straight away who he was? Now, it felt as if he were deliberately lying to her.
No one had recognised him in Temur Sapora and, for that, he was eternally grateful. But every day he was cautious, quickly checking the Internet for any mentions. It was almost like being off the grid and that had entirely been his intention when he’d come here. But now his intention seemed a little...deceitful.
Part of him was grateful for the chance just to be ‘Philippe’. No Prince. No Royal Highness. No one treating him differently at work. No actress waiting on the sidelines. My Night with the Charming Prince had been the headline after the interview.
