by Penny Parkes
He shrugged. ‘I’m not technically family, so they were worried about letting me back here. The boys, of course, had other ideas and it seemed like the easiest solution in the end.’ He wrapped his arms around Holly’s shoulders as she remained by Ben’s bedside trying to let this tsunami of news sink in. Tom had waved happily across the room, when he looked up and saw his mum, before returning to his screen – the treat of being given unfettered access to video games seemingly more interesting than the dramas unfolding around him.
The medical staff were clearly stretched pretty thin, as they dashed between the various bays in the ICU. The fact that Ben now seemingly had his own personal medical team, meant that they were focusing their attention elsewhere for now. After all, his meds were all rigged up, further X-rays monitoring the progress of the battery through his digestive system were pending and now it was basically a waiting game.
The on-call paediatrician stopped by their bay to update them on his proposed treatment protocol. Holly blinked hard and tried to concentrate – for Christ’s sake they were talking about her son’s prognosis here – this was her field. Why in hell was her concentration slipping through her fingers like jelly? She blinked again, only hearing every third or fourth word. Is this what it felt like to be the helpless parent? A pair of strong arms guided her away from the bed and into a chair. Taffy crouched down beside her. ‘Holly? Are you okay?’
She shook her head and her voice trembled as she tried to explain. Perhaps it was delayed shock, she wondered, or perhaps this was how it always felt – as the parent.
Taffy sized up the situation in a heartbeat. ‘Right now, you have one job, okay? You sit beside Ben and talk to him and stroke his hair and tell him you love him. Dan’s going to drop Tom at Lizzie’s for the night and I can do the hands-on stuff and keep an eye on test results and the like. You’re just here for moral support. You’re the parent today, Holly, not the doctor.’
‘Thank you,’ she managed, still stunned that all her years of medical training somehow hadn’t prepared her for this. She had never been more grateful for Taffy’s reassuring calmness in a crisis.
As the afternoon turned into night and the lab results came back, they were able to tailor Ben’s treatment to the specific battery and its position in his digestive system. Dan had driven Tom back to Larkford and left Taffy and Holly at Ben’s bedside. The Ward Sister had finally won her battle to keep ‘this circus’ out of her domain and Holly was relieved that surgery was no longer being discussed as an option.
Holly held Ben’s hand as he slept and Taffy continued to play medical envoy. The slow rhythmic drip of the IV was almost like Chinese water torture, as Holly’s eyes flickered back and forth across her son’s sleeping body and the monitors beside him. Whether for better or worse, if there were any changes, she wanted to be the first to see them.
As three o’clock rolled around, the ICU staff seemed to go from one resuscitation to another. It really was the graveyard hour. Holly felt Taffy’s gaze on her and looked up. ‘What would have happened if he’d stayed at nursery this afternoon?’ she asked.
Taffy said nothing for a moment. ‘It didn’t happen, though. So don’t torture yourself. Plus, you know, Ben’s a professional – if he’s going to swallow a battery, he’s going to swallow it well – none of this pesky obstruction business for him.’
Holly nodded, logically understanding the wisdom of those words, but emotionally unable to leave the train of thought. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, if you hadn’t been so attentive . . .’ She reached out for his hand. ‘And I don’t think you’re mad, by the way. I live my life by the commandment of Just in Case.’
He smiled gently. ‘It didn’t seem like there was a downside to being extra careful where this little chap was concerned. It was weird though – kind of like a sixth sense . . .’
Holly nodded. ‘I thought it was just a Mum thing. Maybe dads can get it too.’
Taffy nodded, unable to speak for a moment. ‘I like that.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you in here with him.’ She stroked the wisp of hair back from Ben’s face and sighed. ‘We should sort something out, when he’s better, sign a form or something.’
There was a moment’s silence. ‘Well there’s something else we could do. I mean, I know this isn’t the time, or the place, or the way I’d imagined it, but Holly . . .’
A monitor to their right began beeping loudly and Ben’s eyelids flickered. They both leapt to their feet, instinctively primed for action.
When Ben opened his eyes and looked straight at Holly, it was as though she could finally breathe again. ‘Hi, Mum,’ he said in a tired, reedy voice. ‘I’m really hungry.’
Holly swallowed a sob. ‘Of course you are, Monkey,’ she managed, laughter and tears making her voice wobble. ‘You slept right through supper.’ She clasped his hand tightly and tried not to cry.
‘Mum?’ Ben said, sounding more than a little annoyed. ‘Can you stop squeezing my hand now?’
Chapter 42
Grace clicked on ‘print’ and leaned back in her chair as the room filled with the aroma of warm paper and fresh ink. It was quickly becoming one of her favourite smells, as it had come to signify yet another task ticked off her ever-expanding list. With Holly out of commission for the last few days, as she took care of young Ben, it would be all hands on deck yet again, but the sheer relief of knowing that the little lad was on the mend made that seem like an irrelevance. Her mobile vibrated on the desk beside her and Jamie’s name flashed up on the screen. She was going to have to do something about that, she thought. Not that she wasn’t flattered, but it was all a little too Mrs Robinson for her taste – he was a sweet lad, she thought, but didn’t that just say it all?
She didn’t want a ‘sweet lad’; she wanted what Lucy always referred to as a ‘Manly Man’. In fact, she’d been half tempted to sign up for a dating website dedicated to people who liked men in uniform, until she realised it wasn’t the actual uniforms that floated her boat, it was more the sense of confidence and competence that made her knees go weak.
‘Hi, Jamie,’ she said, attempting to keep her voice strictly professional. She may be picky, but she wasn’t dead.
‘I’m coming over to try some new training protocols with Alice later,’ he said, the line slightly crackling as he was obviously off in a field somewhere with one of his other charges. ‘Good boy!’ he said effusively, confirming her suspicions. ‘And, well, I wondered if you might like a drink?’
‘Me, or the dog?’ Grace clarified, surprised at the flirtatious humour that had crept into her tone. She quickly moved to cover. ‘It’s a lovely thought, Jamie, but I’m afraid I already have plans for dinner with a . . . with a friend.’ How on earth did one even begin to describe the powerhouse that was Elsie Townsend?
Unwittingly though, she had hit upon the antidote to young Jamie’s affections. ‘Oh!’ he said. ‘Oh, I see. No problem. I’ll just – well, I’ll see you. That is, when I see you.’ His confident demeanour had been instantly deflated by the very thought that there might be somebody else on the scene and Grace immediately knew she’d done the right thing. She needed someone with a bit of stamina and backbone – somebody who might enjoy a bit of healthy banter and challenging conversation.
As though her thoughts had summoned him, Dan Carter walked into her office, sat down on the end of her desk and pinched her last Jaffa Cake. ‘Morning, Gracie. Thought you might like to know they’ve discharged Ben and Holly’s taking him home. So we can all breathe again.’ He paused and smiled, the weight almost noticeably lifting from his shoulders. ‘You’re looking fabulously efficient there with that pencil behind your ear.’
Before she could remove it, he reached forward and tucked her swinging bob back behind it. ‘That’s better. You’d better watch out, or all the patients will be having Naughty Librarian fantasies . . .’ He looked stunned then, Grace thought, as though he could hardly believe the words co
ming out of his mouth, but unlike Jamie, he surrendered to his faux pas and fell about laughing. ‘I’m absolutely sure that’s the look you were going for when you got up this morning, wasn’t it?’
Grace smiled and shooed him off her desk. ‘Clear off and do some work,’ she said, and there it was again – that flirtatious tone that hadn’t been heard for two decades, but now twice in one morning! ‘Seriously, unless you would just love to come and help me and Julia sort through the donations and charitable status application forms, then I’d find myself a patient. Stat!’
‘Naughty librarian, naughty nurse . . .’ debated Dan as he left the room with a backwards glance, his face suffused with laughter. ‘Naughty secretary,’ he said, almost out of earshot.
‘I can still hear you, you know!’ called Grace, wondering whether it still counted as sexual harassment in the workplace, if it actually made your day.
As Grace bundled into Julia’s office, with an armful of ring binders and a pen between her teeth, she was perfectly aware that she was hardly looking her finest, yet somehow Dan’s comments had managed to make her forget the slightly ageing shift dress she was wearing and the fact that she had been forced to buy some glasses from the supermarket yesterday, just for the magnification of all these sodding spread-sheets.
‘Ah, the worker bee approaches her queen,’ proclaimed Quentin, pretentious wanker that he was, but Grace was nonetheless grateful when he made a show of gallantly pulling out a chair for her to gladly deposit all her work.
She pushed the tortoiseshell glasses on top of her head, and flipped through the pages of her spiralbound notebook to where she had scribbled the ‘agenda’ for their hurriedly scheduled meeting. She looked up and was surprised to see that Quentin had returned to perching his pin-striped bottom on Julia’s desk, for all the world as though he owned the place.
Grace shifted uncomfortably on her feet as he leaned in and kissed Julia lingeringly on the lips. ‘Get finished up and come over to mine, yeah? The bed’s definitely too big without you, baby.’
It was small comfort that Julia looked just as mortified as Grace felt.
‘Shall we agree never to mention this?’ Julia said quietly, after Quentin had made a rather swash-buckling exit.
‘No problem,’ said Grace vehemently, wishing she could erase the vision of a grown-man blowing a kiss from the doorway quite so easily. ‘Fight Club rules.’
‘What?’ said Julia shortly. ‘What does that even mean?’
Grace shrugged, unfazed by her ire. ‘Doesn’t matter – it’s a line from a movie.’
Julia frowned. ‘You and Dan should get together and quote stuff at each other – he seems to have something for almost every occasion.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe that’s why I never really understood what he was saying? I should really watch a movie occasionally.’
Grace spread out the folders in front of her, desperate to change the subject. ‘Ooh and I’ve got your post,’ she said, rummaging through the pile. ‘I had to sign for this one. International delivery, so it might be something interesting?’
Julia shrugged. ‘Probably just another invitation to speak at some tin-pot medical conference in Switzerland, where you end up paying for your own travel and hope that at least a dozen delegates turn up, who don’t also happen to be presenting a paper.’ She spoke as though this kind of invitation happened all the time.
Grace passed the letter across the desk and the expression on Julia’s face indicated that she too had instantly clocked the logo on the envelope.
Slowly, almost as though she had forgotten Grace was even there, Julia picked up the letter. The laurel wreath and the familiar image of mother and child seemed to have rendered her speechless.
Grace waited for her to say something, or even open the envelope. After a few moments had passed, she couldn’t sit by any longer. ‘Do you want me to give you a minute?’
Julia looked up, her eyes shining with an almost evangelical brightness. ‘It’s from Unicef,’ she said needlessly. ‘Unicef are writing to me.’ She spoke in the tone of voice, as though for them to even acknowledge her very existence, was an achievement beyond measure.
‘Open it then,’ encouraged Grace, bemused by her hesitation.
Julia held the envelope in her hand, her thumb running almost unconsciously over the logo. ‘It’s probably just a fund-raising circular,’ she said quietly. She looked up at Grace and it was the first time that Grace had seen the person behind the façade, the vulnerable Julia.
‘But nobody else got one,’ Grace said reassuringly. ‘And I’m not sure that they’re in the habit of organising a couriered delivery for just anyone.’ If it was anybody else at The Practice, Grace knew just what to provide: a hug, some space, a coffee, a willing ear. But with Julia this morning, Grace was in new territory, for this was not the fire-breathing Alpha female they were so accustomed to. Indeed, there was something so fragile in the hopeful look in Julia’s eyes that Grace barely dared move for fear of startling her.
Julia exhaled slowly, as though the anticipation of something special might yet prove more rewarding than whatever reality was inside – easier, in fact, just to savour a moment heavy with possibilities.
Julia slowly slid her fingernail under the flap at the top of the envelope and a single piece of paper slipped out. Grace discreetly averted her gaze, giving Julia a moment of privacy, even as she was desperate to leap up and read over her shoulder.
To her immense surprise, when she did look up, it was to see Julia’s beautiful brown eyes filled with tears and duly magnified to Disney Princess proportions. Incapable of speech, she merely handed Grace the letter – an endorsement of trust that was unheard of in this particular office.
Grace quickly skimmed its contents, her attention held for a moment by the strap line across the headed paper – For Every Child in Danger. Well, she thought, perhaps Julia could identify only too well with that emotion, with Candace as a mother? Although obviously, the scale of their first-world difficulties probably paled into insignificance compared to what Unicef handled.
Her eyes leapt from paragraph to paragraph, only occasionally looking up for Julia’s approval to continue reading what turned out to be a very personal letter. Praising Julia’s ability to connect with the public on screen and her professional manner in medicine, it was obvious that they held her in the highest regard. As it turned out, the quiet-spoken, intellectual man Julia had seen as a guest patient only last week, had gone promptly back to work and recommended her for this role. Ambassador for Immunisation. What a title . . . What a role . . . What a difference she could make . . . And it was hers. All Julia apparently had to do, was say yes.
Grace experienced a moment’s guilt that she and the team hadn’t appreciated Julia’s skillset enough while she was here – reading this letter, it was obvious that not everyone was looking for a lollipop and a hug from their doctor. It was an absolute endorsement of Julia’s professional, if occasionally removed style of practising medicine that they were offering her – and only her – this coveted position.
‘This is amazing,’ said Grace quietly, having almost blushed herself, after reading on through yet more fulsome praise to the end of the letter. ‘What will you do?’
Julia just looked completely overwhelmed, as she carefully and lovingly folded the letter back into its distinctive envelope. It was quite remarkable to watch her transformation, as the reality of her over-sharing suddenly hit home. Even though to everybody else here, it would just be called sharing, thought Grace.
‘Can I ask you not to tell anyone about this, Grace? I’d really appreciate a few days just to take it all in,’ Julia said.
‘Goes without saying,’ said Grace, opening a ring binder in front of her. ‘We can just carry on as though nothing happened.’ She looked up and risked a grin. ‘Although then, you would have to navigate Her Majesty’s Revenue & Customs website with me to sort out all this Gift Aid business? I’m not convinced I’m qualified.’
Julia n
odded. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said ambiguously.
Keeping a secret, thought Grace, was so much harder than she remembered. All day, her attention had been wandering back to Julia’s job offer and the possible ramifications for The Practice. Even now, sitting at Elsie’s counter top and popping ice-cubes into a jug for some virgin cocktails, she was still distracted. It had been one thing to consider that Julia’s filming commitments might pull her out of the surgery with increasing regularity, but the idea that she might pack up and emigrate was a whole different ball game.
‘Do you know,’ said Elsie sniffily, ‘I feel like I’ve been talking to myself for the last five minutes. What on earth is going on with you this evening, Gracie? Didn’t you realise that I only invited you over to have somebody to moan to?’ She flashed her trademark enigmatic smile, as though she was joking – they both knew she wasn’t really. With Holly caught up nursing Ben back to health and Lizzie’s own particular brand of care-giving being a little exhausting, Elsie had called on Grace for a pick-me-up.
‘Sorry,’ said Grace quickly, before Elsie could start interrogating her, ‘I was just—’
Elsie faked a yawn, fanning her hand in front of her mouth. ‘Et tu, Gracie? Since when did you lot do so much “justifying” yourselves? Kick it to the kerb, would you please. We’ll take baby steps with you, because I know you’re nice – we’ll build up to saying what you actually mean so you don’t get whiplash!’
Elsie held out her glass for the Raspberry Blush, or whatever today’s concoction was called. ‘But right now, I need to talk to you about Holly. All this business with the hospital and the divorce – I want to do something constructive to help. Sitting around feeling old and useless is not terribly satisfying, to be honest. Imagine that.’
Grace nodded. ‘Well, I’ll gladly join forces with you, if you’d like.’ They all knew only too well what a dynamo Elsie Townsend on a mission could be and Grace was under orders to keep her calm and comfortable. That didn’t mean she couldn’t still have a life though, Grace reasoned. ‘What did you have in mind? God knows we’re missing Holly enough at work, but I daren’t think how hard she’s finding all this.’
