it was far easier for them to find a replacement than the small, poorly funded hospital in Africa.
‘No, we can manage for another couple of weeks. Just. As long as we know you’ll be coming, we can soldier on.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Jamie said, not really convinced. ‘You will let me know if it all becomes too much?’
‘Straight away, I promise,’ was the reply.
‘How’s Sibongele?’ Jamie asked. ‘Is he behaving himself?’
Again there was a slight hesitation. ‘He’s OK, I guess. He misses you. He asks every day when you’re coming back.’
‘Any news of family yet?’
‘We’re still trying to track down his mother’s sister. One of the nurses thinks she knows which village she lives in and we have sent word to her that Sibongele is well enough to leave the hospital and go home. But so far we haven’t heard anything. We don’t even know if she got the message.’
‘If we haven’t heard by the time I get back, I’ll go to the village myself and try and find her. The boy needs to be with his family.’
‘The trouble is, Jamie, I don’t think he wants to go. You know he thinks of you as his family since his mother died. He’s been at the hospital for so long now, he doesn’t remember anything else. He loves helping in the wards. He’s bright and recites everything he’s learnt from you at the drop of the hat.’ Greg laughed. ‘I swear some of the patients trust his opinion more than they do ours.’
Jamie smiled, too. He could easily picture fourteen-year-old Sibongele working on the wards with his ready smile and keenness to help. But he was a little concerned at how attached the boy had become to him. Heaven knew why the boy thought he could be a father to him—he couldn’t even be sure he could be a father to his own child. But since the child had lost his mother to the TB that had kept Sibongele in the hospital for the past six months, he had developed an attachment to Jamie. And, Jamie had to admit, he was fond of the boy. In fact, although he was keen to see the boy reunited with his aunt, he knew he would miss him when he left.
After he replaced the receiver, Jamie prowled around his small flat. He felt restless and ill at ease. Once or twice he reached for the phone to call Sarah, but pulled back at the last minute. What, after all, could he say to her?
Jamie had always paid little heed to his surroundings, but today the one bed-roomed apartment seemed to closing in on him. As hospital accommodation went, it was clean and modern with an open-plan sitting room divided by a breakfast bar and a functional kitchenette. The rest of the flat comprised a boxy bedroom and a tiny bathroom with overhead shower.
A steady downpour of rain rattled the window-panes, dampening his spirits even further, and he experienced a sudden yearning for Africa.
As he thought of the country he had spent the last year and a half in, he realised how much he was missing the wide open spaces, and the mission hospital with the staff and patients. They would be struggling to cope without him. There were already too few doctors for too many patients. For a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to return there with Sarah at his side. She would love the country, he was certain, and as for Calum, he would love it, too. There was an old reservoir that the staff used for dips. He could teach his son to swim. He pushed the thoughts away. It was unlikely to happen. Perhaps he should return sooner than he had planned? Hand in his notice and leave as soon as the hospital managed to find another locum to replace him? There was probably little requirement to further brush up his skills. Even the short time he had spent at the Royal was sufficient for him to be reassured that his clinical skills were fully up to date.
Why not, then? Why not just go? Remove himself from Sarah and Calum’s lives? Let them get on with their lives.
The ringing of the phone rang dragged him away from his brooding
‘No, we can manage for another couple of weeks. Just. As long as we know you’ll be coming, we can soldier on.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Jamie said, not really convinced. ‘You will let me know if it all becomes too much?’
‘Straight away, I promise,’ was the reply.
‘How’s Sibongele?’ Jamie asked. ‘Is he behaving himself?’
Again there was a slight hesitation. ‘He’s OK, I guess. He misses you. He asks every day when you’re coming back.’
‘Any news of family yet?’
‘We’re still trying to track down his mother’s sister. One of the nurses thinks she knows which village she lives in and we have sent word to her that Sibongele is well enough to leave the hospital and go home. But so far we haven’t heard anything. We don’t even know if she got the message.’
‘If we haven’t heard by the time I get back, I’ll go to the village myself and try and find her. The boy needs to be with his family.’
‘The trouble is, Jamie, I don’t think he wants to go. You know he thinks of you as his family since his mother died. He’s been at the hospital for so long now, he doesn’t remember anything else. He loves helping in the wards. He’s bright and recites everything he’s learnt from you at the drop of the hat.’ Greg laughed. ‘I swear some of the patients trust his opinion more than they do ours.’
Jamie smiled, too. He could easily picture fourteen-year-old Sibongele working on the wards with his ready smile and keenness to help. But he was a little concerned at how attached the boy had become to him. Heaven knew why the boy thought he could be a father to him—he couldn’t even be sure he could be a father to his own child. But since the child had lost his mother to the TB that had kept Sibongele in the hospital for the past six months, he had developed an attachment to Jamie. And, Jamie had to admit, he was fond of the boy. In fact, although he was keen to see the boy reunited with his aunt, he knew he would miss him when he left.
After he replaced the receiver, Jamie prowled around his small flat. He felt restless and ill at ease. Once or twice he reached for the phone to call Sarah, but pulled back at the last minute. What, after all, could he say to her?
Jamie had always paid little heed to his surroundings, but today the one bed-roomed apartment seemed to closing in on him. As hospital accommodation went, it was clean and modern with an open-plan sitting room divided by a breakfast bar and a functional kitchenette. The rest of the flat comprised a boxy bedroom and a tiny bathroom with overhead shower.
A steady downpour of rain rattled the window-panes, dampening his spirits even further, and he experienced a sudden yearning for Africa.
As he thought of the country he had spent the last year and a half in, he realised how much he was missing the wide open spaces, and the mission hospital with the staff and patients. They would be struggling to cope without him. There were already too few doctors for too many patients. For a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to return there with Sarah at his side. She would love the country, he was certain, and as for Calum, he would love it, too. There was an old reservoir that the staff used for dips. He could teach his son to swim. He pushed the thoughts away. It was unlikely to happen. Perhaps he should return sooner than he had planned? Hand in his notice and leave as soon as the hospital managed to find another locum to replace him? There was probably little requirement to further brush up his skills. Even the short time he had spent at the Royal was sufficient for him to be reassured that his clinical skills were fully up to date.
Why not, then? Why not just go? Remove himself from Sarah and Calum’s lives? Let them get on with their lives.
The ringing of the phone rang dragged him away from his brooding
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