A Festive Fling in Stockholm
Autore
Scarlet Wilson
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15
CHAPTER ONE
CORA CAMPBELL WALKED briskly down the long corridor of the Royal Kensington Hospital, wondering if biting her nails might be an option. Her pager had already sounded twice.
As a neonatologist she’d spent the last twelve years of her life listening to the sound of a pager—at some stages it had almost dictated her life. Usually she welcomed it. It meant she was needed. She would be busy. She would be serving the tiny patients to whom she’d dedicated her life. But this time was different. This time it was Chris Taylor, the chief executive of her hospital, paging her, and her stomach was doing uncomfortable flip-flops.
She had to be in trouble.
The long walk wasn’t helping. It was giving her lots of time to contemplate all the trouble she could be in. She’d signed for new state-of-the-art incubators last week. She’d authorised two extra staff to work over Christmas, because the same old faces went ‘off sick’ every year at that time. She promised one remote teaching session a week with a prestigious US hospital. She’d just had her fifth professional paper published on a new pioneering technique she’d introduced last year for neonates between thirty-one and thirty-three weeks. The before and after was quite astonishing, and right now she was wondering if the before had unintentionally shown the hospital in a bad light.
She glanced down as she neared the office. Maybe she should have gone back to her locker and put some heels on for a more professional look? Cora always tried to be dressed in a presentable manner at work, comfortable black trousers, a short-sleeved unfussy red top and her trademark shoes. A fellow doctor had introduced her to them at the conference in the US: flat, and completely machine washable, they were as comfortable as slippers and came in a rainbow of colours—all of which Cora had promptly purchased. They were also a dream when running the miles of corridors to an emergency page.
‘Hey, Cora.’
Lucy, the chief executive’s PA, was sitting behind her desk beaming like the Cheshire Cat. This didn’t look like the sign of trouble.
‘How’s Louie?’ Cora asked automatically. ‘Can I see a photo of my favourite boy?’
Lucy grabbed her phone from her bag and immediately turned it to face Cora. Her son Louie had been born at twenty-six weeks, two years previously. Cora had looked after him, and always liked to check on his progress.
A sticky face and wide smile beamed up at her. Louie had a shock of blond hair, and a twinkle in his eye. He was also holding a crayon and had clearly just drawn on a white wall.
‘Oh, no! The cheeky wee devil. When was that?’
‘Sunday,’ Lucy said with a smile as she stuffed the phone back in her bag. ‘The decorator had just finished the hallway, and Louie decided he wanted to decorate too.’ She shook her head. ‘I swear, I just turned my back for second. He’d been sitting right next to me eating a yoghurt.’
Cora laughed and nodded. ‘What can I say? He’s just trying to keep you on your toes.’ She winked at her. ‘We teach them lots of tricks in NICU.’
She knew Lucy had worried endlessly about her early arrival. But although Louie was still a little small, he was meeting all his milestones with bells on. Cora shifted on her feet and glanced at the closed door. ‘So, spill, am I in trouble?’
Lucy widened her eyes, in the way that only a person who knew everyone’s secrets could. ‘Dr Campbell, what on earth could you be in trouble for?’ There was an edge of humour to her mocking tone.
Cora shrugged. ‘I thought of nearly half a dozen reasons on the way down the corridor. You really should persuade him to move office. It would be much better for my fear factor if he were situated right next to the stairs.’
Lucy laughed and shook her head as the intercom on her desk sounded. ‘That’s for you.’ She gave her a wink. ‘And I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.’
Cora sucked in a deep breath and walked over to the door, giving it two knocks before she pushed it open and stepped inside.
Chris Taylor rose to his feet and extended his hand towards her. Cora was immediately struck by the enormous window and the view of London outside. Even though she’d worked at the Royal Kensington for years she’d only ever been in this office on a few occasions. She smiled nervously and shook his hand. ‘I would never get any work done in here. I’d be too busy people watching.’
His normally serious face broke into a smile as he shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that for a second. You never stop working, Dr Campbell.’ He lifted something from his desk. ‘As your newly published peer-reviewed paper demonstrates.’
Darn. He’d read it. That must be why she was here. ‘Oh, about that. I don’t think you should concentrate too much on the before. The Royal Kensington still demonstrated an excellent level of care.’
One eyebrow arched. ‘As I would expect,’ he said smoothly.
Cora fought the urge to clear her throat and shift in her seat, conscious it would make her look guilty of something. Chris Taylor placed the medical journal back on his desk and clasped his hands in front of him. This was it. This was the position he frequently assumed in press conferences when he was about to deliver news.
‘Dr Campbell, I invited you here today in part—’ he nodded his head at the journal ‘—because of your latest publication, and in part, because of an offer I’d like to make to you.’
An offer? Cora immediately straightened in her chair, every cell of her body on alert. An offer was good—right?
‘You’ve been with us a while, so I take it you’ve heard of the Kensington Project?’
Cora almost choked. ‘Yes, of course.’ Everyone who worked at the Royal Kensington knew about the Kensington Project.
It was obviously the correct answer because Chris gave a gracious smile. ‘You know that we think of ourselves as being home to the best and brightest in the world. Every year we send four of our pioneering team members out to train staff in other hospitals across the world. This year, we’d like you to be one of those members.’
Something was wrong. Her skin was tingling as if a million centipedes were marching over it. Her mouth had just decided she was stuck in the Sahara Desert, and the thirty-three years of knowledge and experience her brain stored had just vanished in a puff of a magician’s wand.
Chris was obviously waiting for some kind of response.
She’d wanted this. She’d wanted this for the last few years, and last year had been sadly disappointed when she’d heard that four others had been selected. She’d gone to a nearby bar with her good friend Chloe and they’d both had a glass of wine to commiserate.
This year though, between her teaching, her research paper, and the maternity leave of a colleague, she hadn’t even had a chance to watch the calendar and wonder when the announcements might be made.
Chris was still patiently looking at her, as red London buses and black cabs whizzed by outside.
‘Fabulous.’ It came out almost as a squeak.
Satisfied, he continued. ‘We’ve had a request from...’ he consulted a list on his desk ‘... Stockholm City Hospital in Sweden. They’d like you to train a wide range of their neonatal staff on the pioneering techniques you developed while working at the Royal Kensington.’
She heard the hidden unspoken message. They might be her techniques, but credit would always have to be given to the hospital that had supported her. Cora didn’t mind. The Royal Kensington had frequently put their money and trust in her over the last few years, when she’d outlined plans for improvement, both small and large. Her success rate was good. And even when a few things hadn’t quite achieved their goal, there had always been learning for all those involved.
Excitement fizzed down inside her. This was an honour. A privilege to visit another country and teach them first-hand all the techniques she’d learned. Stockholm. Sweden. She’d never been to either before and that added even more to the excitement.
Chris kept talking. ‘If you choose to accept, then you’ll leave in three days’ time—the first of November.’
‘Three days?’ If he heard the note of alarm in her voice, Chris Taylor showed no sign of acknowledgement.
‘The arrangements are in place. You’ll be flying into Arlanda Airport and we’ve arranged for you to be picked up and taken to your accommodation. You’ll be there for just over seven weeks, flying home on Christmas Eve. I trust these arrangements will be suitable?’
Cora nodded. Her brain was kicking back into gear and she had a million questions.
‘Who will I be working with? Do I get to take any of my equipment?’ She frowned. ‘How do I transport hospital equipment? Where will I be staying? Who are the others involved in the Kensington Project this year?’ She paused to catch her breath. ‘You said they requested me? Is that usual? Is that how this normally works?’
She caught the gleam in Chris Taylor’s eyes and realised exactly how she must sound.
She gave a short laugh and a shrug. ‘What’s the weather like in Stockholm?’
There was silence for a few moments and Chris tilted his head to one side. ‘Is that a yes, Dr Campbell?’
She jumped to her feet as he stood and held out his hand again. ‘Yes!’ she said, shaking his hand with an overenthusiastic grip. ‘That’s definitely a yes.’
He smiled. ‘In that case, Lucy has a number of details for you that she prepared earlier. I think it’s safe to say you’re in very good hands.’
Cora didn’t doubt it for a second. Lucy was meticulous with her work.
She let his hand go and moved back to the door. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I’ll check the rota. I’ll need to make sure there’s enough cover at short notice. I’ll speak to Ron in Medical Physics about the transport and review all my patients.’
As her hand closed on the door handle she realised she was babbling again.
‘Dr Campbell?’
Chris’s amused voice came from behind her. She looked over her shoulder. ‘Yes?’
He glanced at her red flats. ‘Buy some winter boots.’
‘I have wonderful news!’ The door to Jonas Nilsson’s office burst open with a bang and Elias Johansson came into the room, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide.
Jonas looked at the mark on the wall and shook his head. Elias’s enthusiasm for work had never changed in the ten years that he’d known him.
He was seventy and should have retired years ago, but Stockholm City Hospital’s Head of Neonatal Intensive Care was showing no signs of slowing down.
Jonas nodded to the chair across from him. ‘What have you been up to now, Elias?’ he asked.
Elias gave a hearty laugh as he flopped onto the chair. ‘What makes you think I’ve been up to something?’
Elias glanced at the calendar. ‘Because it’s... Wednesday? And on any weekday, and on some weekends, you’re usually up to something within this hospital.’
‘Don’t ask permission, proceed until apprehended.’ Elias smiled, with a wave of his hand.
Jonas put down his pen and leaned forward. This was a favourite quote of Elias’s and generally meant trouble.
‘I’ll ask again,’ he said with one eyebrow rising, ‘what have you been up to?’
‘You’ve heard of the Kensington Project?’ Elias continued without waiting for a reply. ‘I put in a request for a doctor from the Royal Kensington Hospital in London to come to Stockholm City to teach us some of her new pioneering techniques in NICU, and I found out earlier today that my request has been successful. I’ll be picking Cora Campbell up at the airport in a few days’ time.’
Jonas opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to formulate his words carefully. ‘What? Who? And no, I’ve never heard of the Kensington Project—what on earth is it?’
Elias’s eyes twinkled. ‘An opportunity. That’s what it is. An opportunity for us to borrow one of their best—and most published—neonatal experts to come and share her expertise and knowledge with us. What’s better, she’ll be here right up until Christmas. Can you imagine how much we can learn from her?’
Jonas frowned. ‘I have no idea who this woman is. Do we want to learn from her?’ He could feel himself getting angry. He was very fond of Elias, but the older he got, the more he meddled.
‘Of course, we do!’ He winked at Jonas. ‘And who knows? Maybe she’ll learn something from us. She might even want to do some joint research projects. Now, that would be exciting.’
Jonas took a deep breath. As he was Head of Midwifery this new arrival would affect his work schedule for the next seven weeks. He was in charge of the nursing and midwifery staff attached to the NICU. A new doctor might want to teach new techniques. Coming from London, she would be unfamiliar with the standards and guidelines, procedure manuals and cross-check of training that Jonas insisted was adhered to within his NICU—because that was how he thought of it.
Jonas was a stickler for regulations and paperwork. Having been burned early on in his career, he wanted to protect both his staff and their patients. He knew just how important that was. Every t was crossed, and every i was dotted. He had high expectations of his staff and they all knew it. Woe betide anyone who fell below his standards.
But Jonas had good reason for feeling as he did. A harsh lesson had made him realise how important rules were, as well as listening to instincts. That was what he’d done years ago when treating a patient in the final stages of labour. She’d been insistent in her birth plan that she did not want a Caesarean section unless there was no other option. Surgery as a teenager had left her feeling traumatised and she didn’t want to feel that way again. Having a natural birth would mean she would feel in control and Jonas had been with her all the way. Jonas always promised his patients he would do his absolute best to help them stick to their wishes. But when the condition of her baby had deteriorated rapidly, he’d had to move quickly and follow his instincts, advising her that she needed to undergo a Caesarean section. His instincts had been right. All other professionals had agreed.
But when the woman had been diagnosed with postnatal depression following her delivery and made a complaint that he had let her down, Jonas had been overwhelmed with guilt. His actions had saved the lives of both mother and baby. But he still felt responsible for letting his patient down. His emotions got in the way.
The investigation had shown he’d made the right call. And even though he’d acted on instinct, the hospital policies and his rapid note-taking of all events had saved him. From the first time the baby’s heart rate had dipped, Jonas had followed every rule to the letter.
That was why he was now the way he was. Rules, policies and standards protected staff against any complaint—if they followed them to the letter. He also tried to ensure staff weren’t ruled by their emotions. He knew how deeply he’d been affected by his own, and had always done his best to stay detached from his patients ever since. He could listen to them, treat them well, and be an utter professional, ensuring a high standard of care, but he couldn’t ever let his emotions get in the way.
‘You should have discussed this with me first.’
‘Maybe.’ Elias gave a careless shrug. ‘But I’ve put in a request to the Kensington Project for the last ten years.’ He wrinkled his nose and looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not quite sure what tipped the balance in our favour this time around.’ He smiled again. ‘But I did write five thousand words about why I specifically wanted Cora Campbell.’
Jonas groaned. This was always going to be a losing battle. He knew exactly what would happen. Elias would happily entertain Dr Campbell every morning, but by mid-afternoon he’d start to flag and arrange for other people to keep Dr Campbell entertained.
Jonas didn’t have time to entertain anyone. His job was busy enough, and one of his senior staff was starting early maternity leave in the next few days due to some complications. They hadn’t found a suitable replacement.
‘Where is she staying?’
He was asking the question, but Jonas had a creeping sensation that he knew the answer.
‘With me, of course!’ said Elias. I have plenty of space and I’ll get the opportunity to show her the festive activities of Stockholm.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’m quite looking forward to it—the opportunity to see our own city through someone else’s eyes. I think it will be good for me.’
Suspicions confirmed. Somehow, he’d known that Elias would offer to host the visiting doctor. He’d rambled around his large home on the outskirts of Stockholm for the last few years, ever since his wife had died. Both of Elias’s children were married with children of their own, and lived in other parts of Sweden. Jonas knew that Elias was lonely. He was sure it was part of the reason that Elias refused to retire.
Jonas sighed. ‘Tell me again, when does she arrive?’
‘November the first. I’m picking her up at Arlanda airport at two p.m.’
‘Are you bringing her straight to the hospital to show her around, or taking her home first?’
‘Oh, taking her home first. Give her some time to settle in, then probably take her out to dinner in one of the restaurants at night. You’ll join us, of course?’
Jonas shook his head, an automatic reaction. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of some new doctor coming into his unit to teach them ‘new’ things. The last thing he wanted to do was make small talk with the woman.
No. He’d rather meet her on his terms, in his professional setting. That way, he could be clear about boundaries, and the fact that anything that happened in the NICU involving any of the nursing or midwifery staff, had to be run past him. There. He felt better already.
‘I’d prefer to meet her the next day. When she’s had a chance to relax and get her bearings. She’ll probably be tired after travelling.’
Elias wagged his fingers at him. ‘Excuses, excuses. All work and no play makes you a very dull boy, Jonas. When was the last time you went out for dinner? Threw a party?’
Jonas laughed and leaned back in his chair. ‘There are enough people in this hospital already throwing parties without me joining in. Did you see the state of some of the medical and nursing students last week? I sent three of them home.’
Elias tutted. ‘Finest days of my life. I love a good party,’ he said wistfully.
‘I’ll meet her the day after,’ Jonas said, in the vain hope it might lodge somewhere in Elias’s brain.
Elias’s page sounded and he glanced down. ‘I have a patient. Here.’ He pushed forward the pile of papers he’d been carrying. ‘Read up on our visiting guest. You might find something interesting. We can talk later.’
Jonas smiled and shook his head as Elias left. He knew exactly what the old scoundrel was up to. Every six months or so, he got it in his head to play matchmaker between Jonas and whoever he thought might be a suitable companion.
Most of his matchmaking attempts had been in vain. Two or three had lasted more than a few dates, maybe even lasting for a couple of months. But Jonas was too involved at work to invest in a relationship and all of the not-quite-right women had grown frustrated and drifted off.
He pushed the papers to the side, instead pulling up the rota for the NICU on his computer.
He wanted to check who would be on duty at the start of November. He trusted his experienced staff to be able to deal with the new doctor in a polite but efficient way. He might have a quiet word in the ear of some of the other physicians. As he glanced to the side, he caught the title of a research paper: The Basis of Hypothermic Rescue in Twenty-Six-Week-Old Neonates. Interesting. He was just about to pull it out when he heard a yell.
‘Help! Someone, help!’
Jonas was out of his seat in an instant. As he ran out of the door, he could see a nurse kneeling at the site of a collapsed body in the corridor.
No. No. He recognised the familiar shape instantly.
The nurse was relatively newly qualified. ‘Good work,’ he said quietly as he bent over the body. The nurse had put him into the recovery position, but it was clear it was Elias. Jonas checked his airway, breathing and circulation. He looked up at the nurse, putting a hand on her shaking arm. ‘Maja, put out a treble two call.’ There was a phone at the end of the corridor and she blinked and then got to her feet and started running.
Jonas stayed leaning over Elias. ‘It’s okay, Elias. I’ve got you. Just take some nice, deep breaths for me.’
He noticed the slight sag of one side of Elias’s face immediately and his stomach gave a horrible ache.
Moments later there were thudding footsteps next to him, a portable monitor and trolley, along with a sliding sheet. Eight people moved Elias easily onto the trolley and Jonas walked alongside as they headed to the emergency department.
His head was already spinning. He knew both Elias’s son and daughter. He’d make sure he was the one to phone them.
Seven hours later he was still in the hospital sitting by Elias’s bedside. Initially, the emergency physician had suspected a stroke, but over the last few hours Elias had gradually regained consciousness and movement in his arm and leg. He was still groggy, his eyes were heavy and his mouth still drooping. His oxygen levels had also dropped slightly.
Elias’s son, Axel, burst into the room, much in the way that Elias had burst into Jonas’s office earlier. Jonas stood quickly and put his hand on his arm. ‘He’s okay. It looks as if he’s had a transient ischaemic attack. They’re going to keep him in and do a few more tests.’
Axel moved straight over to the bed and put his hand on his father’s cheek. ‘Pappa,’ he said softly. ‘I’m here.’
Elias’s eyes fluttered open and he gave a soft smile, before they closed again.
Axel looked at Jonas. ‘He has regained consciousness, but is very sleepy. It’s the body’s way of letting him heal. They are doing his neuro obs every hour and he’s making gradual improvements.’
Axel finally seemed to take a breath. His coat was dotted with snowflakes and was damp in patches. ‘Thank you, Jonas. Thank you for staying with him until I got here.’
‘Of course. I would never have left him. Now you’re here, I’ll check and see if his doctor is around to talk to you.’
Axel looked around. He was an engineer by trade but knew his father well. ‘What about this place? What about work?’
Jonas shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about a single thing. I can sort all of that out. If they think he’s well enough in a few days, I can help you make arrangements to get him home and see if he needs anything.’
Something flitted across Axel’s eyes. ‘He was on the phone to me earlier, telling me about some doctor who is coming to stay with him. He was so excited about it. Will you be able to sort some alternative arrangements for that? I don’t even know their name.’
‘Leave it all to me.’ The words came out instantly, even though Jonas was inwardly groaning. Getting cover for their head of NICU would be difficult enough, without the added responsibility of their international guest. Several of the other physicians had extended holidays before they hit the festive period, which was traditionally busy at Christmas. They still had strong staff numbers, but Elias’s presence would definitely be missed.
‘Thank you so much,’ said Axel in obvious relief. He looked at his father with affection. ‘I keep telling him he’s too old for all this but he won’t listen.’ His face fell. ‘Maybe he will now. I appreciate your help, Jonas.’
Jonas held out his hand. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’ He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. ‘Here are the keys to your dad’s house. I wasn’t sure if you had a set, so I got them from his office. I’ll find that doctor for you.’
The events weighed heavily on Jonas’s shoulders as he left. He had complete confidence in the doctors and nurses looking after Elias. He just hoped the situation wouldn’t become more serious. Elias was a mentor to him, as well as a verbal sparring partner. He enjoyed his company and respected his work.
As with any hospital, news would spread quickly and Jonas would need to focus his efforts on making his staff feel supported within their working environment.
He collected his jacket from the locker room, pulled his hood over his head and walked out into the falling snow.
