in hospital in Nairobi, Cecily. My name is Nurse Syssons, and I’ve been looking after you. I’m very glad to see that you’re back with us.’
Cecily closed her eyes again, trying to remember what had happened. Yes! She’d had that terrible agonising headache, which had gotten worse and worse . . . She vaguely remembered Katherine, and being put in a car, but beyond that, nothing.
‘There’s no need to be frightened; you’re going to be absolutely fine and up and about in no time,’ the soothing voice of the angel continued.
‘I . . .’ Cecily licked her lips, which felt cracked and numb, as if they didn’t belong to her. ‘What has happened?’
‘You were very ill when you came in here, so Dr Stevens performed an operation to make you better,’ the angel replied. ‘Here, drink this. Fluids will help you feel more normal.’
Cecily felt a straw being eased between her lips. She was desperately thirsty, so she swallowed down what she could.
‘What was wrong with me? I remember the headache, but . . .’
‘Now you’re awake, I’ll go and see if I can find Dr Stevens to come and tell you all about it. You rest there while I pop off to find him.’
‘But . . . what about my baby? Is it okay?’
Her plea was left unanswered. Perhaps she was still dreaming, she thought, or maybe a better dream would come next. Cecily closed her eyes and let the quicksand of unconsciousness pull her back down.
When she woke again, Cecily opened her eyes almost immediately, feeling much more alert. She was in hospital, she reminded herself as she took in the whitewashed walls and the fan spinning above her. Looking down, she saw she was covered in a sheet. Lifting the arm that was not attached to a drip, she felt beneath the sheet, her fingers walking down to feel the comforting shape of the bump, which, like a deflated balloon, seemed to have shrunk in size . . .
‘Oh my God, oh no, please . . .’ she whimpered as she turned to her left and saw a blur of faces looking down at her.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Forsythe, my name is Dr Stevens and I performed your operation yesterday,’ said an unfamiliar man in a white coat. ‘You were a very sick young lady, but thanks to your friend, Katherine, you got here fast enough for us to save you.’
‘Hello, Cecily,’ said Katherine, who was standing next to the doctor. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Never mind how I’m feeling! Is my baby all right?’
‘I’m so very sorry, Mrs Forsythe, I’m afraid there was nothing we could do. We managed to get her out of you safely, but sadly she died shortly afterwards.’
‘I . . . but . . . what was wrong with her? And why am I here and she . . . it’s a she? Oh my, I so wanted a daughter . . .’
‘You – and hence the baby – were suffering from a condition called pre-eclampsia. If we hadn’t operated when we did, then we’d have lost the both of you. I do apologise for being the bearer of bad tidings, but there is no easy way to break the news. Right, I’ll leave you with your friends.’
Dr Stevens gave her a sad, sympathetic look, then left the room.
‘Katherine?’ Cecily reached for her hand. ‘What does he mean? It can’t be true, can it?’
‘I’m so very, very sorry, darling, but it is, yes. The baby was just too small and weak to live, you see, and—’
‘But why didn’t they save her rather than me?’
‘I don’t think it works like that,’ said a deeper voice beside Katherine. Cecily looked up into the troubled eyes of her husband.
‘Bill . . . you’re here too.’
‘Yes, of course I am, you’re my wife. I came as soon as I heard.’
‘But what do you mean, “it doesn’t work like that”? I’d have been happy to die . . . really, I would . . .’
‘Darling, the baby had to be removed to have a chance of saving both your life and hers,’ Katherine said. ‘She wasn’t growing properly inside you, you see, because of the pre-eclampsia. There was a better chance for her to live if she came into the world early, but it was just too early, Cecily. You must understand that they didn’t save you over your baby. If they’d have done nothing, both of you would have died,’ Katherine repeated. ‘Now, perhaps it’s best if I