Saving Baby Amy

by Annie Claydon

  ‘And instead you gave your sister a home and then battled a debilitating illness. I think you can be forgiven for overlooking a few cracks in the ceiling.’

  And Jon knew how to forgive. He seemed to do it with everyone, apart perhaps from himself. ‘Okay, then, I’ll come. Maybe it’ll give me a few ideas on what to do when I get a chance to get started here.’

  * * *

  Jon’s house was the only one in a street of neat, suburban houses that looked ramshackle, the paint flaking off the downstairs window frames. The garden in the front looked as if it had been recently cleared, a few tree stumps sticking out of the sun-baked clay soil and an uneven pile of stones that must have once been crazy paving.

  ‘Watch out. Don’t step into any holes.’ He grinned at her, taking Amy from her car seat and hoisting her up into his arms, where she couldn’t get into any mischief.

  Only the newly painted front door gave some clue that the house could be a lot more than it was now. Jon opened it, and when Chloe walked into the hall it was dark and dingy, no wallpaper, no carpets. But it had possibilities. The decorative newel post and the stair bannisters had been stripped down, and once a coat of paint was applied it would bring out the rippling shape of the turned wood.

  ‘This is wonderful.’ She turned, running her hand across the sitting-room door. It was caked with so many layers of paint that the mouldings had practically disappeared, but it still had an original stained-glass panel, along with what looked like a decorative cast-iron backplate for the door handle.

  Jon chuckled. ‘Not many people say that. But when it’s all done, I think it’ll look okay.’

  It would look great. It all needed a bit of care and attention, and about a gallon of paint stripper, but Chloe could imagine the house, rising phoenix-like from the dust and the years of neglect. ‘You have most of the original features still.’ She looked up at the ceiling and saw moulded cornices and plasterwork.

  ‘Yeah. The place belonged to an old guy who’d lived here all his life. He was a hoarder, and it was in a pretty bad state but relatively untouched. You couldn’t get past the piles of newspaper to decorate.’

  ‘But you saw something in it.’

  ‘It looked like a challenge. As we cleared everything, we came across some lovely old features. And a few nightmares. All the kitchen floorboards had been soaked through and were rotten. It’s a miracle someone didn’t fall through them. And the wiring was completely shot—the electrician took one look at it and condemned it as unsafe.’

  Despite his less-than-enthusiastic comments, Jon obviously loved this house. Who wouldn’t? A chance to give an undiscovered gem a new lease of life.

  ‘It’ll be lovely when it’s finished, though.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s what I’m hoping. Careful through here, the floorboards have been taken up to run the cabling.’

  Jon led the way through to the kitchen, which had obviously taken priority over the decoration of the hallway. Almost finished, it was bright and gleaming, with honey-coloured wooden cabinets and black quartz-effect worktops, which sparkled subtly when the light hit them.

  Spotlights were sunk flush with the ceiling. Bright chrome taps and a built-in hob and oven with chrome trimmings. Grey slate on the floor. Chloe gasped.

  ‘Jon... This is gorgeous.’

  ‘Like it?’

  ‘I’d kill for a kitchen like this.’ The kitchen units ran along two sides of the large room, and cardboard boxes were stacked neatly along the third. ‘What’s going in here?’

  ‘I was going to carry the units and worktop on round, but now I’ve seen it I’m thinking that that’s more cupboards than I could possibly use. I quite like the idea of having a table and chairs here instead, the way you have in your kitchen. I think it would make the room warmer.’

  Chloe nodded. ‘It is handy having the table, and the room’s plenty big enough. And it could do with a break to all those clean lines.’

  Jon chuckled. ‘All I need is Dalek biscuits and a few crystals. That’ll take the gleam off it.’

  ‘I’ll send Amy round with the biscuits. You need to get your own crystals.’

  She walked to the back door, looking out on the weeds and overgrown shrubs. Then they picked their way past the lifted floorboards in the hall and up the stairs to the front bedroom.

  Another one of those breath-catching, I-wish-I-lived-here moments. Jon had obviously decided to decorate one room at a time, and this room had fresh paint on the walls and woodwork. There was a cast-iron fireplace, which had been stripped and polished up so that the pattern of twisting stems and flowers shone. A curved bay window, with stained glass in the lights at the top, looked out onto the quiet street. This would be a lovely place to wake up in the morning, dappled colour shining across the polished oak floor.

  ‘I didn’t notice these windows from the outside. They’re the originals?’

  ‘Yep. They were in pretty good condition under all the layers of paint. I’m not sure how warm they’ll be in the winter, but I don’t want to put in secondary glazing if I can help it.’

  ‘Thick curtains? I have some with thermal linings in my bedroom and the room’s really cosy in the winter.’

  Chloe bit her tongue. She could almost see the kind of thing that would match the red and green in the stained glass and bring those colours out. A cold night, closed curtains and candlelight. And the warmth of Jon’s arms.

  But this wasn’t her house. Amy would never sleep soundly in the next bedroom, surrounded by pretty things, and Chloe would never sleep in this one. Amy should be with her mother, and Jon had determinedly left all thoughts of a family behind.

  Jon was nodding, looking at the windows. ‘I didn’t think of that. It’s an idea.’

  Amy started to struggle in his arms, wanting to explore, and Jon put her down onto her feet, holding both her hands and letting her lead him over to the fireplace. She traced the pattern in the cast iron with her fingers, sitting down suddenly in the hearth.

  ‘So you have a kitchen and a bedroom...’ It seemed like a countdown. How much more did he need to do here before he wouldn’t need to stay at her place any more?

  ‘And the bathroom’s going in over the next few weeks. That’s all I really need, and then I can move in and do the rest as I go.’

  ‘It’s a long job.’

  ‘I’ve found somewhere that I want to be now. If it takes a while to get everything finished, that’s okay.’ He looked around the room thoughtfully, and then bent to pick Amy up. ‘I guess we should make a move if we’re going to get some shopping.’

  That was best. Get away from here before it gave Chloe any more ideas. She turned, almost bolting out of the room and down the stairs.

  * * *

  It had been right on the tip of his tongue. Jon had almost asked Chloe to come with him to choose curtains.

  Calm down! he reasoned with himself as he walked down the stairs, his boots thudding on the bare wood. Choosing curtains isn’t like asking someone to kiss you.

  In some ways it was worse. A kiss could be explained away as the momentary wish for some warmth. Curtains were a more cool-headed statement. And the thought that Chloe might just talk him into the perfect set of curtains for the room was terrifying.

  He was done with perfect. He didn’t want domestic bliss because he’d seen it crumble into vitriolic chaos. Jon realised he’d left his car keys in the kitchen and left Chloe hovering by the front gate, walking the length of the hallway with Amy in his arms.

  ‘Bye-bye.’ Amy waved happily as he picked up his keys and closed the kitchen door behind him.

  ‘That’s right, sweetheart. Bye-bye, house. We’re going to the supermarket now.’

  Out of the mouth of babes... Amy’s instinct had divined the truth before he’d had a chance to formulate it in his head.
Helping a friend out was one thing. But he wasn’t going to ask Chloe back here, for fear that he might be tempted to ask her to stay.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EVERYTHING HAD FALLEN into place. Jon’s week off work was long enough to make sure that Amy had fully recovered, and Chloe had secured a place for her at the hospital crèche for the following week. Jon was working days now and their evening routine of cooking, eating, a bath and bedtime for Amy, followed by the precious ‘magic hour’, needed no adjustment. Hannah would be back home with James at the weekend, and Chloe was beginning to allow herself to believe that her return might be a step forward.

  Jon had been too busy to take a break on Monday, but she’d bumped into him at the crèche on Tuesday, and they’d eaten their sandwiches together, playing with Amy. Chloe wondered whether he’d be there today, a little thrill of excitement pulsing through her fingers as she checked her phone.

  Almost as if he knew she’d been thinking about him, Jon chose that moment to send a text.

  Are you going to lunch now?

  At some point they’d dispensed with the formalities of Hello and What’s happening? Maybe because it felt that even though they were working at different ends of the hospital, they were still together.

  Yes. Join me?

  Busy with a patient. Do you have ten minutes? I’d like your opinion.

  In A and E?

  The thought was unexpectedly stirring. Jon’s work in A and E was one area that was his alone and which Chloe didn’t normally have any part of.

  Yes. Won’t keep you long.

  I’ll be right down.

  She found him at the doctors’ and nurses’ station at the end of a row of cubicles, staring at one of the computer screens. He motioned for her to sit down in an empty chair next to him.

  ‘Thanks for coming. I’ve got some X-rays I’d like your opinion about.’ His brow was furrowed, and he was clearly wrestling with a knotty problem. Chloe resisted the impulse to wonder what she could possibly add to Jon’s expertise, and hoped he wasn’t over-estimating her experience.

  ‘Okay.’ She sat down, warily.

  ‘What do you see?’

  She looked at the X-ray on the screen in front of him. ‘A pretty nasty dislocation of the big toe. Do you have the patient’s notes?’ She reached for the manila folder in front of him, and Jon put his hand on top of it.

  ‘I just want to know what you see here. This is Patient A, right?’

  ‘Okay. Well, Alan’s got a dislocated toe.’ She could hardly imagine that Jon hadn’t seen that.

  ‘Alan?’ He shot her a suspicious look, as if she’d been looking at his notes behind his back.

  ‘His name’s on the X-ray, Jon.’

  ‘Oh. Well, anyway, how might that have happened?’

  ‘What is this? Have you asked Patient A?’ Chloe rolled her eyes. Diagnosis wasn’t a guessing game.

  ‘Of course I have. I just want your professional opinion, without knowing any of the context, because, having seen both the boys, I’m struggling not to jump to conclusions.’

  ‘There’s a Patient B?’

  ‘Yes. I’m coming to him.’

  Chloe heaved a sigh. ‘Okay, I’ll play along. An injury like this is most probably caused by the foot coming into contact with something hard. Kicking a wall would do it, or a blow to the end of the toe. Something like that.’

  ‘What about another child stamping on the foot?’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose, but not likely. If that’s what happened I’d be on the lookout for some underlying condition or deformity of the bones, which meant that a dislocation was particularly easy.’ Chloe frowned at him. ‘Jon, you know all this.’

  He grinned. ‘Yes, I do. I just wanted a second opinion.’

  Chloe suppressed a smile. It was nice to think that Jon had chosen her for that. ‘Have you relocated the toe?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jon punched one of the keys on the computer keyboard and another X-ray flashed up on the screen. ‘It’s been relocated and dressed. I’ll be making an appointment for him up in Orthopaedics for ongoing care.’

  Chloe studied the X-ray carefully. ‘Nice job. I don’t see anything here that concerns me. There’s a tiny bone fragment there...’ She pointed to the X-ray and Jon bent in to look.

  ‘I didn’t see that.’

  The fragment was so small that it was almost invisible. But it was gratifying to be able to add even this to Jon’s assessment. ‘I’d say this is definitely an impact injury. Do you want to tell me what this is all about now?’

  ‘In a minute.’ He punched the keyboard again, and another set of X-rays appeared on the screen. ‘Patient B.’

  ‘Right.’ Chloe scanned the X-rays carefully. Three different angles, showing the front and sides of a knee. ‘Well, I don’t see any fracture of the patella, although there may be a very small hairline one that won’t show up on the X-rays until it starts to heal. There’s another very small chip just here, and I’d like to have him back in a couple of weeks, just to check on that.’

  ‘Caused by?’

  ‘Impact on a hard surface most probably. I can’t say any more that that, Jon. You’re going to have to tell me what...’ She glanced at the bottom of the screen. ‘What Craig told you.’

  ‘You’ve told me what I need to know.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Thanks. I won’t take any more of your lunch break.’

  ‘What? Come on, Jon, you can’t stop there. What’s happening?’

  He grinned, as if he’d known all along that she couldn’t confine herself to just answering his questions. ‘Two boys, both twelve years old. They’re in the school changing rooms so they both have bare feet and legs, and there are a lot of hard surfaces around.’

  ‘Which would explain the dislocated toe.’

  ‘Yes. Alan says that Craig stamped on his toe, and dislocated it. He jumped back and Craig stumbled, falling on the tiles.’

  Chloe frowned. ‘Well, I suppose that’s possible. Not very likely though. What does Craig say?’

  ‘He’s not saying anything. Not a word. I’ve got a teacher from the school, and both mothers here, and all three of them want me to sort this out and tell them exactly what happened.’

  ‘Well, you can’t, not categorically. We can say what might have happened, but they’re going to have to sort what actually did happen between themselves.’ Jon knew that as well as she did. ‘What’s your interest in this?’

  ‘I just want to know. Because if the cause of Alan’s injury doesn’t explain its severity, there may be some reason for taking a few more X-rays.’

  True. But that was something that would usually be assessed in her own department, not A and E. Jon knew that as well as she did. ‘And...?’

  ‘Because we’re not busy at the moment. And I’m on my lunch break.’

  That wasn’t good enough either. ‘Yes. And?’

  Jon puffed out a breath. ‘Okay. If you must know, I think that Craig’s been bullied. He has psoriasis, and Alan referred to him as “Flaky Craig” a couple of times when he thought that his mother wasn’t listening. He’s very obviously playing the victim with his mother and teacher, but he’s quite cocky when they’re not around.’

  The look in Jon’s eyes was reason enough. ‘Would you like me to talk to him?’

  Jon shook his head. ‘I don’t see...’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to confront him with anything.’ This was perhaps one area where her experience was a little more useful than Jon’s. ‘I get the odd alternative version for how someone’s come by an injury. A and E sometimes isn’t the environment to tell your doctor that you broke your ankle having sex.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. We get our share of unlikely injuries. Goes with the job.’ His brow creased. ‘Someone broke the
ir ankle having sex?’

  ‘Don’t ask. I still can’t work out how she managed to get into that position... All I’m saying is that Alan might be a little more forthcoming with a different face. One that hasn’t already been kind to him. You have been kind to him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course. It’s not my place to judge anyone.’

  ‘So why don’t you let me give it a go? If his mother agrees.’

  Jon got to his feet. ‘Okay. I’ll speak to her.’

  * * *

  Jon had spoken with Alan’s mother and the teacher who was with the boys, and they’d agreed to sit out of his direct line of sight, while Chloe spoke to him. He wondered what she thought she might say that would convince Alan that the truth was better than the obvious lie he’d told.

  Or perhaps she wouldn’t need to say anything. She walked into the consulting room, leaving the door open so he could stand in the doorway with Alan’s mother, watching and listening. Chloe was immaculate as usual, a dark skirt and shoes under a white coat. When she sat down opposite Alan, her smile was composed but held a touch of the confidante. Jon would have told her pretty much anything.

  ‘Hello, Alan. My name’s Dr Delancourt. I’m doing a survey—would you mind if I asked you some questions? About how you hurt yourself today.’

  Nicely done. Alan nodded, and Chloe turned the page in the notebook she carried, taking a pen from her pocket.

  ‘Thank you. It looks as if you’ve been in the wars.’ Chloe flashed him a mischievous look. ‘Did you win?’

  Get the boy to brag a little. Jon felt Alan’s mother shift uncertainly from one foot to the other beside him.

  ‘Yeah, I won. I showed him.’

  ‘I’ll bet you did.’ Chloe leaned forward a little, her elbows on her knees. ‘So who did you show?’

  ‘There’s this boy at my school. When he takes his shirt off in the changing rooms his back’s all flaky and horrible. I told him I didn’t wanna see it and he needed to get out of there.’

  Chloe nodded, as if that was perfectly understandable. Jon saw Alan’s mother put her hand to her mouth, staring at the back of her son’s head.