Free Vicious Circle by Wilbur Smith Page A

hers.
    ‘Just look at her! Isn’t she the most magical little thing?’ he murmured.
    Nothing moved in Hazel’s face, her expression was impassive and her eyes expressionless. He brought their two faces closer together.
    ‘I think your daughter needs a kiss, Mrs Cross,’ he said, and touched Catherine’s lips to those of Hazel. Immediately the infant’s lips started making suckling motions, instinctively seeking the teat. She began to move her head from side to side, brushing against her mother’s face. Still Hazel’s face was stony and pale as chalk.
    When Catherine was unable to find what she was looking for she squawked. Almost at once her frustration turned to anger and she let out a series of grunts and muted bellows; the most evocative sounds to any mother’s ears. But Hazel’s features remained blank.
    Crestfallen, Hector lifted Catherine back into the cradle of his arms. He had hoped for something, for anything. Just a sign that she had known this was her own child nuzzling her cheek.
    Then a small miracle was enacted before him. A tear welled up from the blue depths of Hazel’s left eye. It was the size of a seed pearl, and it shone with the same opalescence.
    ‘She is weeping,’ Hector said in a small, awed voice. ‘She sees. She knows. She understands.’
    Bonnie took the child from him. ‘We must go now. I dare not stay any longer. It’s more than my job is worth.’ She went quickly to the door and from there looked back at him with a smile. ‘It was a hell of a risk, but I’m glad I took it.’
    ‘So am I.’ Hector’s voice was gruff. ‘I owe you one,’ he said to Bonnie. ‘I owe you a very big one.’ Then she and Catherine were gone.
    Hector looked at Sister Palmer. ‘You too, a very big one!’ he told her.
    Hector went back to his station beside the bed. He took Hazel’s fingers and tried to rub some warmth into them. He whispered to her a little longer, and then weariness and emotional burnout overtook him again and sleep dropped over him like a dark fog.
    *
    Something woke him. He was not certain what it was. He looked around him groggily. Then two things registered with him in quick succession: the sound of the beeper was wildly erratic and the trace on the screen of the heart monitor was dancing and skipping chaotically. In panic he came to his feet and stood over Hazel. Her chest was heaving and a rasping sound came from her open mouth.
    ‘Hazel,’ he said with rising anger. ‘Fight, my darling. Fight the bastard.’ He knew the black angel had come for her. ‘Don’t let him take you!’
    Sister Palmer hurried in, alerted by the tone of his voice. She went to the far side of the bed, took one long look and said, ‘I will call the duty doctor.’ She rushed from the room. Hector did not watch her go. He was shaking Hazel’s hand.
    ‘Listen to me!’ he pleaded with her. ‘Stay with us. We need you. Catherine and I need you. Don’t go! Please don’t go with him.’
    The wild cacophony of the heart monitor slowed. The peaks of the pattern on the screen drew further apart.
    ‘Fight with that great heart of yours, Hazel. Don’t give in,’ he told her, and the tears streamed down his face. He had seen this happen so often on the battlefield but he had never wept before. ‘Think of us. You never give in. Fight him off with your warrior’s heart.’
    Hazel expelled the air from her lungs in a long and whispering sigh. Then she breathed no more. The monitor beeped one last time and then went silent. The trace levelled out into a flat green line at the bottom of the screen.
    Hector stood over her and his tears dropped onto her face as he seized her shoulders and shook her.
    ‘Come back!’ he cried. ‘I won’t let you go!’
    The door opened behind him and the young duty doctor strode up behind him and took his arm, leading him away from the bed.
    ‘Please, Mr Cross. Stand back and let me do my job.’ The doctor worked quickly. He placed his stethoscope on her chest,