Читать книгу A Very Special Need - Caroline Anderson - Страница 6

‘RIGHT, Edward, if you could stand up and turn round so I can see your back, perhaps we’ll be able to sort this pain out a bit for you. Can you tell me where it hurts?’

The boy put a finger on his back, just below his waist and slightly to one side, over the lumbosacral joint which linked his flexible spine to the less flexible ring of his pelvis. It was a common spot for difficulties, being the junction between the two areas and so subject to more stresses than the other joints.

Hugh watched as Edward bent slowly forwards, tipped sideways, rotated, straightened up and tipped back, generally showing a grossly restricted range of movement in that whole area. It wasn’t all due to the current injury—that much Hugh could see at a glance—but certainly the injury was compromising the movement Edward did have, and making the situation much worse.

‘Right, if you could lie on the couch for me on your right side facing me,’ he said, making it perfectly obvious which way he wanted the boy to lie by taking up his position beside the couch, and waited to see if he was able to follow instructions.

He could tell by the brightness of his eyes and the few things he had said that he was certainly intelligent. How much his brain had been damaged in the trauma which had caused his cerebral palsy Hugh didn’t know, but he wanted to find out for himself and not from the boy’s mother. He wanted no preconceptions.

Edward lay down exactly as asked, and when Hugh bent his knees up, propped them against his hip and rocked the boy gently, curling and uncurling his spine with slow, careful movements, he could feel the pull of the taut, spastic muscles fighting him all the way. ‘I just want to get this area moving a little,’ he explained. ‘See if I can get some freedom back into this joint.’ He supported the spine with the flat of his hand, rocked away gently for a while and gradually the muscles began to give a little and he was able to get more movement through the joint.

‘It’s very tight, isn’t it?’ he said to Edward. ‘Is it often?’

‘It always is,’ the boy replied. ‘I have a lot of spasticity in my psoas muscles as well.’

No flies on this kid, Hugh thought with interest as he worked on the tight muscles. What a damn shame he’d been damaged at birth. He made a mental note to ask Judith—no, Miss Wright—the circumstances. ‘Who does your physio?’ he asked.

‘Mum—and the physio comes to school once a week to see how things are going. I have a special session with her when the others have got games.’

‘Do you do any games?

‘I work out in the gym a little with some special exercises when the others are there, but I can’t play football, of course. I go riding on Thursday with the RDA.’

Hugh had heard of the RDA—the Riding for the Disabled Association—a charity which with the help of volunteers and fundraisers offered an opportunity for disabled children and adults to ride carefully chosen ponies and horses. The Princess Royal was a great supporter of the organisation, he knew.

‘Do you enjoy it?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ There was an enthusiasm in his tone Hugh hadn’t heard before, and he guessed this was one part of being disabled that Edward didn’t find too irksome! ‘Although,’ he continued in his slow, careful speech, ‘sometimes I’m not sure who’s disabled, the ponies or the riders.’

Hugh laughed. ‘Are the ponies all old crocks, then?’

‘Not really. Some of them are quite young, but most of them have arthritis. There’s one, Pipkin, who’s new. He’s only nine but he can’t do much any more because of his leg. He’s a lot like me. He’d like to do more—I can feel it in him. He was sort of boiling inside with enthusiasm, but his body just won’t do it any more.’

‘I guess you would identify with that,’ Hugh said gently.

Edward gave a little snort. ‘Just a bit. I get so sick of everyone thinking I’m thick, just because I talk slowly and can’t move fast. People talk down to you—patronise you. It makes me mad. I get so frustrated.’

Hugh moved round to the other side of the treatment couch and spread some cream on Edward’s back, then turned on the ultrasound machine and ran the head lightly over the area of his sacrum and lumbar spine.

‘Do you get bullied much at school?’ he asked casually.

Edward stiffened a little, and Hugh rested a warm hand on his hip and squeezed gently. ‘Don’t tense up. Just let the ultrasound do its work. Just breathe deeply and let go.’

Gradually the boy relaxed again.

Hugh tried a different tack. ‘So, tell me again how you fell,’ he said softly.

The silence was broken only by the ticking of the timer on the ultrasound machine. For a long time Hugh didn’t think Edward was going to answer, then he drew in a shuddering breath and let it out.

‘This kid tripped me up on the stairs. He’s a new kid in my year. He’s been gunning for me all week, trying to prove something to the others—make his place or something.’ There was a wry chuckle. ‘Big mistake. They’re all used to me now, and they get a bit defensive. That’s why I don’t want to say anything. They’ll trash him if they know.’

‘They?’

‘Al and his mates. He’s my best friend. He’s Jamaican—his kid sister Flora’s got CP too. He gets really mad if anybody messes with me—makes the Mafia look like kindergarten. He’ll get in trouble if he’s caught sorting this kid. He’s done it before for me.’

‘And you think he would again?’

Edward snorted again. ‘I know he would.’

‘Perhaps you need to have a quiet word with the one who tripped you up—warn him off.’

‘Yeah, right—like he’ll really listen to me!’

‘He might—it’d be worth a try if it’ll keep your friend Al out of trouble.’ Hugh put the ultrasound head down and, using his knuckles, kneaded gently into the taut muscles.

‘That feels a little better. How does it feel from your side?’

‘Easier. Thanks.’

‘I won’t manipulate it today—it’s too fresh and fragile at the moment. What I want you to do is go home, ice-pack it three times a day for ten minutes and rest as much as possible. I’ll see you again on Monday evening at the end of surgery so I can spend as long as I need without time restrictions. I think the diary’s looking a bit hectic for early next week and I don’t want to just cram you into a little slot. Can you manage to get dressed again?’

Edward gave him a withering look. ‘I expect I’ll cope.’

Hugh laughed softly. ‘Often my patients need help. A bad back’s a bad back, Edward. It would be silly to mess yours up even more and make it worse just for the sake of your fool pride, wouldn’t it?’ He winked. ‘I’ll send in your mother in a minute.’

He found Miss Wright—not Judith, he reminded himself—where he’d left her, staring out of the window at the front garden. She swung round as he came in, and he felt the now-familiar thunderbolt slam him in the midsection.

At last! She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever see her son again. She found a smile. ‘Hi. How is he?’

‘Stiff, tender—he’s got a partial subluxation of the lumbosacral joint, caused by his fall, and the spasm of his psoas muscles isn’t helping him stand properly.’

‘They give him trouble,’ she said with a sigh. ‘It’s postural, and because of his spasticity.’

‘Yes. Anyway, he should be a bit more comfortable now. I’ve told him to rest over the weekend and he needs some frozen peas on it three times a day for a few minutes. Put them in a plastic bag and tie them up, and wrap them in a teatowel so he doesn’t get freezer burns. Just refreeze them after each session.’

She smiled again. ‘We have a bag of peas on the go most of the time,’ she told him softly. ‘Injuries are no stranger to him. He often turns his ankles.’

‘He would. It’s unfortunate—’

A noise in the distance caught their attention and he lifted his head. ‘Was that Edward? Did you hear him call?’

Judith shook her head. ‘No—is it someone at the back? I thought I heard someone a moment ago.’

‘Christine. Let me just check she’s all right. Would you like to go and make sure your son’s managing to dress himself, and then we’ll make you an appointement for next week?’

He excused himself and went down the corridor. She was just crossing the hall when he came back, looking distinctly harrassed.

‘Problems?’ she said instantly, searching his face for clues.

He rammed his hands through his hair. ‘You might say that. Miss Wright, have you ever delivered a baby before?’

Judith froze for a moment. A baby? Oh, Lord, no, don’t let her have to get involved with a delivery. Not after the disaster of Edward’s birth…

‘Well? Have you?’

‘Only Woody,’ she told him automatically.

His brow creased in puzzlement, but he moved on. ‘I’ll call an ambulance, but if you could go through there and talk to her? I think things are moving really very fast and she’s a bit scared.’

She wasn’t alone, Judith thought. She forced herself to walk down the corridor on legs like jelly. Please, God, don’t let this be happening to me, she thought. Let him be wrong.

He wasn’t. She found the woman lying on a comfy sofa, propped against one arm with her feet braced against the other—her face contorted with the effort of expulsion.

Judith didn’t even have time to wash her hands, never mind make any kind of preparation for a sterile environment. She squeezed Christine’s hand briefly, hitched up her dress and pulled down the tights and pants that the woman had tried—and failed—to remove. As Hugh came back into the room she was perched on the side of the sofa, the baby’s head cradled in her hands, with no time to worry about her part in all this.

‘Here,’ Hugh murmured and, hitching Christine up a fraction, he slid a thick, soft towel under her, put his arm round her shoulders and let her hang onto his hand as the next contraction seized her in its grip.

‘Aagh…’ she groaned, tucking her chin down and straining.

Judith smiled at her. ‘You’re doing fine, Christine. Nice and gently. Just take it steady. Well done.’ Heavens, was that her? She was talking on autopilot, functioning on two entirely different levels. God forbid that Christine should see the other level—she’d have hysterics!

Judith looked down at her hands. The baby’s head lay there, streaked and smeared, the mass of dark hair pressed damply against the tiny skull. As Christine pushed the baby seemed to squirm and turn and twist in Judith’s hands. Suddenly not only a head but a body lay there in her hands, tiny, dark red and utterly furious.

The blood-curdling yell was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard—second only to the siren of the ambulance which arrived at the same time, relieving her of the responsibility for the baby’s welfare and any further part in its delivery.

‘Thank God,’ Hugh muttered beside her and, releasing Christine, he went to let them in. Judith lifted the baby up and laid him across Christine’s now-soft abdomen. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, her voice choked with tears, and as the ambulancemen came in she went over to the sink, washing her hands as if she could take away the memory of the last wet, squalling newborn she had held.

His cry had been the same. Her joy in a new life had been the same. It was only later that she’d discovered how different he was to be…

Hugh appeared behind her, his hands cupping her shoulders with a gentle squeeze of support and thanks and all the other tumbling emotions childbirth brought kicking and screaming to the surface. ‘All right?’

‘Yes.’ Surprisingly, her voice was steady. Now there’s a miracle if you like, she thought. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said unnecessarily.

‘I know. Thanks for your help.’

She looked up at him, her eyes still misting with tears. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, although it wasn’t. Not for her—and not for Woody.

Hugh looked searchingly at her for a moment, then his hand came up and brushed her cheek. She was surprised to feel a tremor in his fingers. ‘Do you want to go and make sure Woody’s all right?’ he suggested, as if he could read her mind. ‘He may be a bit concerned.’

She nodded, smiled absently at the busy ambulancemen and fled down the corridor. She arrived in the hall to find her son there with another woman behind him. She smiled at them both, a little stronger now she was away from the scene in the kitchen.

‘No Christine?’ the woman said.

‘No—she’s just had her baby—that’s why the ambulance is here.’

‘Here? She’s had it here? Oh, how wonderful!’ the woman exclaimed, obviously delighted. ‘Everything all right?’

Judith forced a smile. ‘Seems to be.’ Funny, she couldn’t share the woman’s enthusiasm.

‘Oh, do give her my best wishes. I’m Mrs Jennings, by the way. I’ll go through and wait, shall I? Oh, how exciting!’

‘Fine. Thank you.’ She turned to Woody. ‘OK, love?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah—much better. I take it the receptionist had her baby just this minute?’ he murmured.

She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. A boy. He looked so much like you—’

She broke off, unable to continue along that line of thought, but as usual Woody didn’t miss a trick.

‘Mum, it wasn’t your fault,’ he began, and then Hugh arrived.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said with a rather bemused smile. ‘Babies have a way of arriving when it suits them. Um—let’s have a look and see if we can make you an appointment for Monday, Edward—oh, excuse me—’ He picked up the ringing phone. ‘Good afternoon. Hugh Barber speaking. Can I help you?’

It took three tries before he managed to look at the appointment book without interruptions, by which time he was looked fairly ragged and Judith was wondering if they would ever get away.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he muttered when the phone disturbed them yet again. ‘Let’s ignore it.’

Judith reached out and covered his hand, stilling him for a second. ‘Can’t you get her replacement in early?’

He snorted. ‘What replacement? I’m so busy I haven’t even got round to advertising her post again yet. Finding someone of the right calibre to handle confidential information is never easy, and the last crop of applicants was dismal.’ He snatched up the phone. ‘Barber.’

A job. My God, she thought, it’s a job, right here in my lap!

‘I could do it for you,’ she offered quietly as he hung up the phone. ‘I’ve done a similar job before.’

He met her eyes, hope written ten feet tall all over his face. ‘Do you have the necessary skills?’

‘I think so. I can type, answer the phone, organise filing systems, use a computer or fax machine, do accounts, keep records—’

‘Stop! You’re hired. When can you start?’

The phone, which had been briefly silent, rang again.

She smiled and reached for the receiver. ‘How about now?’

Hugh was so relieved that he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Since just after two, when Christine and her baby had been handed over to the care of the hospital, Woody had been ensconced in the snug in front of the television, he had been seeing patients and Judith—well, Judith had the place running like clockwork.

It had taken her about fifteen seconds to ask the questions she realised she needed to have answered, and after following his patients out and explaining things to her a time or two it dawned on him that his contribution was entirely unnecessary.

She was a natural. She dealt easily with the patients, she was warm and friendly but brisk enough to keep things moving; she offered a choice of two appointment times at the most, where the majority of people would have asked when they would like to come and given the patients enough rope to hang themselves. Not Judith. ‘Monday?’ she would say. ‘Ten-thirty or twelve?’

And that was that.

She was wonderful. She was also very distracting. He found himself thinking about her in entirely un-employer-like terms and often, after seeing a patient out and exchanging a few words with Judith, he would have to drag himself away to the next patient, conscious of sporting a silly grin but unable to do anything about it!

Damn, she made him feel good. He found himself humming at one point as he went into the kitchen in a lull to tidy up after the pandemonium, only to find her in there, too, having already done it. ‘I was just going to bring you a cup of tea,’ she said with a smile, and left him in there with it while she went to check Woody.

And Hugh, sitting down on the now-cushionless sofa with his cup of tea, hummed cheerfully and thought that life was pretty damn good. He’d solved his maternity leave problem, Judith was employed and therefore able to support herself and Woody, Christine had had a lovely healthy baby and they had all survived the experience. And he had managed to end up working alongside the most attractive woman he had met in years.

Yup. Things were definitely looking up.

Judith couldn’t believe her luck. She’d got a job! And not just any old job, either. She was working with people in a caring profession, which suited her much better than being trapped alone in an office all day or stuck at a VDU screen, tapping in numbers in a noisy, open-plan office complex, and she was in such lovely surroundings, too. From her position at the gorgeous antique desk she had so much admired she could see out into the front garden, which was a blaze of colour after the dry summer. The recent rains had started everything off again and the flowers were picking up, ready for the autumn flush. The roses were lovely, the Michaelmas daisies were just opening with brilliant spots of rich purply-blue against the green and the plants in pots and tubs around the door were full and lush and tumbling down towards the ground. Just sitting there looking at it all made her feel so much better.

To be paid for the privilege seemed almost superfluous.

As for the job itself, she was really enjoying it so far, and once Hugh had time to show her the ropes and introduce her to the computer system he used for patient records she could be of some real use in the little office behind his consulting room.

It was a pity she hadn’t had time to grill Christine for some information, but she had no doubt that Hugh could fill her in. In the meantime she asked him if she had a query, dealt with the obvious and in the rare lulls she popped her head round the door of the snug and checked on Woody, lying stretched out on a big settee in front of the television fast asleep.

Thank God she would now be in a position to pay for his treatment!

It was a little after four when the peace and tranquillity of the big house came to a grinding halt. Utopia was shattered with the slamming of a door and the thunder of footsteps up the stairs behind her.

‘Hi, Christine,’ a voice yelled, and then the footsteps slowed, stopped and started down again in the other direction. Judith turned her head and found herself face to face with a boy of about Edward’s age. And there, she thought wryly, the similarities ended.

He was a little taller, slim but muscular, and sported a superficial arrogance which she was sure was just a front. God forbid she should dare to mention such a thing, however! His mid-brown hair was just like his father’s but a little darker, his features were a younger version as well but the eyes were startlingly and exactly the same vivid blue.

‘Where’s Christine?’ he asked abruptly.

Judith blinked. ‘In hospital. She’s had her baby.’

‘Blimey. That was quick. She was here this morning. Are you from the agency?’

‘No. I’m the mother of a patient, but your father—I take it Mr Barber is your father?’ she checked, just to be on the safe side. The boy gave a quick nod, and she continued, ‘Your father offered me the job as I was here and available. Incidentally, if you go into the snug you’ll meet my son, Edward. He’s taking up rather a lot of your settee, I’m afraid, but he’s messed his back up. That’s why we were here.’

‘Oh. Right.’ The boy shoved a hand through his hair in a perfect reflection of his father’s own gesture and turned on his heel. ‘I’m going upstairs—Toots is in the kitchen. Keep an eye on her, could you?’

Toots? Who—or what—was Toots? And how was she supposed to keep an eye on her and watch the desk at the same time? Oh, well. She left the desk and went through to the kitchen. A little girl was in there, balanced on the edge of the worktop, rummaging in a cupboard. Judith didn’t want to speak for fear of making her jump and lose her balance so she stood by the door and waited as the child prodded about amongst the tins and packets.

Finally she came out triumphantly with a packet of chocolate digestives clutched in her hand and jumped down onto the floor, the long fair hair which was escaping from a rather tired ponytail bouncing and swaying as she landed. Then she turned and caught sight of Judith, and instinctively and instantly hid the biscuits behind her back.

Then with a total absence of guile she looked straight at Judith with those astonishing blue eyes and said, ‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Judith. I’m the new receptionist.’

‘Oh. Where’s Christine?’

‘She’s had her baby.’

The child’s head tilted slightly, and she suddenly looked a little fearful. ‘Is she all right?’

Judith smiled and propped herself against the end of the sofa. ‘Yes, she’s fine. She’s gone to hospital to rest for a day or so. She had a boy.’

The little nose curled. ‘Yuck. Poor Christine.’ She chewed her lip. ‘She is alive, isn’t she?’

What an odd question. ‘Yes, darling, of course she’s alive.’

‘My mummy’s dead,’ she confided.

‘I’m sorry,’ Judith said gently, one of her questions answered. ‘That must be hard. Do you miss her?’

‘No. She died when I was born.’ Which, Judith realised, explained the strange question. ‘I’m seven,’ Toots added inconsequentially. ‘Have you got any children?’

‘Yes, Edward. He’s in the snug at the moment.’

‘A boy?’

The child’s disappointment was so obvious Judith almost laughed. ‘I’m afraid so,’ she said with a wry grin. ‘He’s a nice boy, though. You might surprise yourself and like him.’ She looked at the hand still hidden behind the child’s back.

‘Are you Toots?’

The little nose curled again with delicate disdain. ‘My real name’s Alice.’

‘Well, Alice, why don’t I put the kettle on and make us all a cup of tea? Or you could have milk or orange squash or whatever you usually have, and we can all have some of those biscuits you’ve got there.’

The child pulled the biscuits out and looked at them as if she’d never seen them before in her life. ‘These biscuits?’ she said innocently.

Judith hid the smile. ‘Mmm. Would that be a good idea?’

Alice looked at her with guileless blue eyes and smiled. ‘OK. Has Daddy got many more patients tonight?’

‘About three,’ Judith told her, ‘but I’m sure you won’t have to wait that long to have a biscuit—’

‘Hi, Toots, what’re you up to, tinker?’

Alice threw herself across the room into her father’s arms and hugged him. ‘Hi, Daddy. I helped Judith find some biscuits for us all,’ she lied, and gave him the benefit of her megawatt smile.

He melted like ice cream in the sun. ‘Well, what a nice idea. Are we going to have tea? Can you manage to put the kettle on, Toots?’

‘Course I can.’

Hugh looked at Judith. ‘I’ve dealt with Mrs Fraser. Mr Parkin isn’t here yet, but he’s so often late I’m not surprised. How’s it going?’

‘Fine.’ She smiled. ‘Excellent, I think. I hope I haven’t made any howlers.’

He grinned, shedding years in the process and doing her blood pressure irreparable harm. ‘I doubt it. Look, I tell you what, why don’t you and Woody stay for supper and let me go through the ropes with you so you’re all ready for Monday?’

‘Oh.’ She smiled weakly, still busily in the grip of her heightened blood pressure. Supper? Was that such a good idea? Good grief, girl, get a grip, she told herself. It’s hardly a date! ‘That would be very sensible, but I’d hate you to go to any trouble—’

‘That’s OK. We’ll get a pizza delivered—we often do. Housekeeping isn’t my best thing. Then we can really concentrate.’

There was a crashing sound from the hall and the kitchen door was hurled back on its hinges. ‘Anything to eat in this place? I’m starving.’

Hugh raised an eyebrow a fraction. ‘Hello, Martin. Good day at school?’

‘Passable. Can I have a sandwich—hey, Toots, where did you get the biscuits from?’

‘I helped Judith—’ She caught Judith’s eye and amended, ‘They were in the top cupboard.’

Judith gave an almost invisible wink of approval, and Alice grinned just a tiny bit. Good, Judith thought. She knows I don’t approve, and she also knows I won’t rat on her.

Martin was looking at the sofa as he ripped open the biscuit packet. ‘Where are the cushions?’ he asked curiously.

‘In the garden, drying off. I washed them,’ Judith explained.

‘Why?’ Alice asked, as if washing anything was a totally foreign idea.

‘Because that’s where Christine had her baby,’ Hugh explained, ‘and they got a little bit wet. You remember what I told you about babies in tummies being in a sort of paddling pool? Well, when the baby’s born the paddling pool empties—’

‘Oh, yuck, Dad, all over our sofa?’ Martin said theatrically.

‘It was the tiniest bit, and I did wash it well,’ Judith hastened to reassure him.

‘Even so,’ he groaned.

Judith stifled a grin. Let Hugh deal with this one. She was on the point of escaping to the reception desk when there was a bump against the kitchen door and Woody entered in in his wheelchair.

He stopped abruptly as he saw the children, and Judith saw the familiar shutters come down over his features. He looked almost desperately at Judith. ‘Are we going home soon?’ he asked in his slow, rather fractured speech.

‘No, not yet. Mr Barber’s got a couple more patients to see, and then we’re going to stay to supper so he and I can talk about the job.’

Oh.’ He looked a little uncomfortable with that.

‘Is that a problem, darling?’

He shrugged. ‘No, I suppose not. Is there a loo?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Hugh jumped to attention and turned to Martin. ‘Marty, this is Edward Wright, Judith’s son. He’s in the same year as you at school. Woody, my son, Martin, and my daughter, Alice, better known as Toots. Marty, would you take Edward and show him where the cloakroom is, please?’

Judith looked at Martin to gauge his reaction, and her heart sank. He had that ‘Oh, no, I’m going to have to talk to a cripple’ look that so many people got with their first contact with Woody. Mutinous, slightly appalled, uneasy.

‘I’ll show him,’ she said, starting forward.

‘That’s all right, Martin can manage. We’ve got patients to deal with. Marty, make a pot of tea for us all when you’ve done that, could you?’ He took her arm and steered her up the hall, and as they turned the corner he said softly, ‘Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.’

She chewed her lip. ‘He hates meeting new people.’

‘So does Martin. They’ll be fine together. Ah, Mr Parkin, come on in. How’ve you been?’

‘Funniest damn thing—got caught in the dog’s lead and fell over and, d’you know, I do believe my back’s been better ever since?’

Hugh laughed. ‘You don’t say? Come on in, let’s have a look at this miracle cure.’

They were out ten minutes later, Mr Parkin looking as pleased as punch and Hugh looking slightly relieved.

‘No charge, Judith. As the man says, he’s cured. Give me a ring if you don’t stay better, now.’

‘Will do—thanks, Doc. I don’t suppose you want to buy a dog—instant remedy?’

Hugh laughed. ‘No, thanks—and I shouldn’t go trying it again. You might not be so lucky next time.’

She watched him go and turned to Hugh with a smile. ‘Cured by the dog, eh? That won’t do your reputation any good!’

He chuckled. ‘There ought to be a law against unlicensed practitioners.’

‘Absolutely—especially the canine variety.’

He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got a minute or two—let’s grab a cuppa and some of those biscuits, if the kids haven’t finished them all.’

They went back to the kitchen and found the three children in there, sitting round the table. The television was on in the corner but the atmosphere seemed tense. Superficially they looked like a bunch of kids watching the telly, but there was an uneasy and almost rebellious silence underlying the canned laughter on the programme.

She looked at her son and read the misery in his eyes, and turned to Hugh. ‘Look, do you mind if I get Woody home to bed instead of hanging on after your last patient? He’s had a long day and we’ve still got to do his physio before he can go to bed. Perhaps we could spend Monday lunchtime going through the job instead?’

He looked a little taken aback—and disappointed—but he disguised it quickly. ‘No, of course not. Go now. I can manage. I wasn’t really thinking. Sorry, Woody, is your back giving you stick?’

He dredged up a smile. ‘I’ll live. Thanks for my treatment.’

Hugh smiled wryly. ‘You’re welcome. I’m sorry I stole your mother from you at such short notice. Look, Judith, I tell you what—why don’t you hang on half an hour until Mrs Radley’s been and I’ll run you both home?’

She chewed her lip again. ‘Are you sure that’s not a nuisance?’

Of course it isn’t. It’s the least I can do—and, anyway, I really ought to pop down to the hospital and see Christine. I’ll just go on from your place, then I’ll get the kids a take-away on the way home.’

‘OK.’ What a relief, she thought, not to have to push the wheelchair round the corner and up the hill. It wasn’t much of a hill but she wasn’t much of a Mr Universe either, and she realised she was tired after her unexpected afternoon sloshing about in the deep end of her new job.

She swallowed her tea, took a bite of Woody’s biscuit, squeezed him reassuringly on the shoulder and went back to the reception desk just as a young woman with a baby in her arms arrived.

Oh. Christine’s not here.’

‘No, she’s had her baby. I’m Judith, the new receptionist. Are you Mrs Radley?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, how exciting. What did she have?’

‘A boy—here, at lunchtime. It was all very quick and rather dramatic.’

‘Really! What fun! Are they both OK?’

Judith shrugged and smiled, but the smile was a little forced. ‘So far as we could tell,’ she said, thinking of Edward and how normal and healthy he had seemed.

Mrs Radley looked down at the sleepy bundle in her arms. ‘I brought Lucy in to show to her—I don’t suppose you could hang on to her while I go in and see Hugh?’

Hugh appeared behind her and hijacked the baby. ‘Hello, little one. My, what a lovely baby. Are you going to throw up on me?’ he asked with tender teasing. Lucy blinked sleepily and her eyes drooped shut again.

‘Dear me, I must be boring. Here you go, Judith—have a baby. Right, Jenny, how’ve you been? Any better?’

They disappeared, leaving her gazing transfixed at the soft, downy cheeks of the tiny girl, her lashes faint crescents against the pale, blue-white skin. Her hair was fair, tiny soft wisps of it sticking up in little points, and it brought a lump to her throat. Two babies in one day. So many memories.

She bent her head and sniffed, and gave a ragged little sigh. She even smelled the same as Woody had. It had been such a happy time, for all the struggle it had been. Those few short halcyon months before she had realised anything was wrong held the most precious memories of her life.

She sniffed again, inhaling the soft scent of baby powder and ultra-fine skin, and sighed wistfully.

If only things had been different…