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“It’s Nina,” she announced quickly, cutting through Sally’s customary greeting spiel. “I’m not well. I need your help.”
“Be right there.”
Nina put the receiver down with a grateful sigh. Sally never blathered on when action was required. She had a mind like a razor blade underneath her glittering sales persona. Within seconds she was at the connecting door, and she burst into the flat in a blaze of efficient purpose.
Nina turned groggily from the kitchen counter on which she had leaned to use the telephone. Sally took one look at her, grabbed hold and supported her over to the closest armchair. She clamped a hand on Nina’s forehead and started questioning.
“Flu? Gastric? What?”
Nina haltingly explained what was wrong.
“Mastitis,” Sally diagnosed. “Infection in your breasts. Might even be abscesses. My sister had the same problem. It can happen when you’re weaning a baby.”
“But I’m not weaning Charlotte,” Nina wailed.
“She’s sleeping through. Same thing. You’ll need antibiotics to knock out the infection. Maybe pills to stop producing any more milk. Best to get you to your doctor right now.”
Tears welled into Nina’s eyes. “You mean I won’t be able to feed Charlotte any more?”
“Depends on how bad the infection is. Babies do survive on bottles, Nina. This is no time to quibble about what’s best for them. We’ve got to do what’s best for you.”
Nina felt too weak and upset to resist as Sally moved into top organisation mode, calling her secretary, who arrived pronto with Sally’s handbag and car keys. Instructions were given to take business calls on the mobile telephone. The secretary was to stay in Nina’s flat and look after the baby. If any problem arose, Sally could be reached on her car phone or at the doctor’s surgery. Within minutes they were on their way.
“Does Jack know about this?” Sally asked.
“No.”
“You didn’t tell him you were having problems?”
“I didn’t want to worry him.”
The tears gathered again and started trickling down her cheeks. Jack had been wonderful last weekend, though he hadn’t liked her having to use the breast pump. She had seen the recoil in his eyes, the frown, the silent wish it wasn’t happening. She had given the excuse of a heavy workload to put him off coming to her flat the past two nights, not wanting him to see her discomfort.
He would undoubtedly blame Charlotte, and everything would start going wrong. Maybe it was cowardice on her part, avoiding problems that might put him off the fatherhood scene. Testing his resolve didn’t seem like a good idea any more. Making love had probably been a big mistake. She wanted him too much.
“Give me Jack’s number,” Sally commanded.
“What for?”
“You can’t manage this alone, Nina.”
“Other single mothers must,” she argued.
“What’s the point in hiding it? Jack’s either there for you or he isn’t. Better find that out now, Nina.”
Relentless logic.
The fear of losing him persisted. “It’s only about eleven o’clock. He’ll be busy at work, and it mightn’t turn out to be as bad as you think, Sally.”
Her desperate optimism earned a derisive snort. “Your temperature’s sky-high. If Jack won’t take over with Charlotte when you’re sick, he’s not worth having,” Sally declared, her vision unclouded by emotional bias. “She may have to be bottle-fed. And that means shopping for all the necessary stuff. Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. Give me his number.”
Nina’s head whirled. Too much to do, and she was too weak and woozy to do it. Besides, Sally was only speaking the inescapable truth. If Jack couldn’t handle this, it boded ill for a future together. She gave his number, and Sally simultaneously pressed it into the car phone.
“Jack. It’s Sally. Don’t talk. Listen. We haven’t got time for unnecessary chat. I’m almost at the doctor’s surgery with Nina, and she’s in trouble. Running a fever and pain in her breasts. She might have to go into hospital.”
“Hospital!” Nina groaned, the future getting blacker by the minute.
Sally ignored her. “Are you okay to help with the baby?”
