Free Twins for Christmas by Alison Roberts Page A

3,’ Kate told him. ‘Her son is with her. Dr McCulloch.’
    The reminder that they were dealing with the relative of someone who had been a senior staff member here was not lost on Braden.
    ‘We need someone to accompany them.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Hand-over’s due to start any minute, and I need to talk to Mary.’
    They both looked around the department. The registrars and other doctors were all busy. So were the nurses, now thin on the ground as many were heading to the office for the shift hand-over. Kate could see an ambulance pulling into the bay outside. Her gaze shifted, and she saw the orderly kick off the brakes on the bed he was about to move.
    ‘Kate? Would you mind doing the honours?’
    She hesitated for just a moment. It was a long walk to the cardiology ward. Not that weariness was the reason for her hesitation. It was more the thought of the return journey without Rory’s mother and the orderly.
    It would just be her and Rory. And long, quiet, empty corridors.
    But they needed to talk, didn’t they? Maybe it would be better to get it over with now than to spend her Christmas Day agonising over what the future held for herself and her babies.
    ‘Kate?’
    Marcella’s bed was moving. Nearly level with the desk. Kate gave a single nod and got to her feet. She picked up the patient notes from the end of the counter and fell into step beside Rory.
    The orderly was pushing the bottom end of the bed. A big paper bag labelled ‘Patient Property’ was on the pale blue cover between the end and the lump that was Marcella’s feet. Rory had one hand on the side of the bed beside his mother’s pillow, helping to steer. His other hand steadied the bag of IV fluids that was swinging with the movement.
    Nobody said anything. Marcella’s eyes were open, but she stared at the ceiling moving overhead and seemed unaware of what was happening. They left the hum of noise in the casualty department behind them as the double doors swung closed. To one side Kate caught a glimpse of the relatives’ room, and the shapes of children fast asleep on the couches. Mary Ballantyne sat in an armchair, a toddler asleep in her arms.
    The corridor leading to the empty outpatient waiting area was silent, but then they turned a corner into the corridor that would take them to the lift they required to reach the third floor of St Bethel’s. On the far side of the lifts was the hospital chapel, and a midnight carol service was clearly in progress. The sweet sound of ‘Silent Night’ filled the dimly lit corridor and brought the sting of tears to Kate’s eyes.
    What was it about Christmas songs that created such a sense of nostalgia? The yearning for the kind of uncomplicated joy that childhood allowed for?
    The orderly pushed the button to summon a service lift that was large enough to accommodate a bed. The overhead panel indicated its current position to be on the fifth floor, and Kate closed her eyes for a moment, pulling the comfort of the music around her.
    It was easy to remember the best that this time of year was capable of bestowing. The celebration of family. Her mind was only too happy to escape the tense silence of the people around her by putting on a rapid fantasy slideshow that was a mix of memories and hope for the future.
    A beautifully decorated tree.
    A glass of milk and cookies waiting for Father Christmas.
    A cold foray into a dark garden to put out a bucket of water and a handful of hay for the reindeer.
    The smell of cinnamon and special treats.
    Waiting until the children were asleep before taking brightly wrapped parcels from their hiding places and arranging them under the tree.
    Firelight and fairylights and mistletoe.
    And…and… Rory.
    The yearning was so intense it was physically painful. Kate’s eyes snapped open as the discordant ‘ping’ announced the arrival of the lift just as the carol was ending in the background.
    Rory had moved to the other side of the bed. Opposite Kate. He was