From Single Mum to Lady

So he’d moved his family in with his father, thought Jandy, standing near them as she flicked through the admissions chart. She wondered idly whereabouts in Delford Patrick’s father lived and smiled wryly. There was no chance of Abigail, her sister and herself moving in with her widowed mother while she was looking for a new place—her mother lived in a tiny house in Scotland and was busy running a truck stop café, with her boyfriend. Chloe Marshall loved her daughters and grandchild dearly, but she didn’t encourage long visits from her family—a few days were all she could tolerate!

Dr Vernon looked down at his clipboard and cleared his throat. ‘Right—let’s get started shall we? Staff Nurse—would you go with Dr Sinclair and look at the little boy in the paediatric department, number one cubicle? He’s got a gash on his leg, and a worrying bump on the head—I don’t know how he acquired it. You’d better book an X-ray.’

Tilly Rodman, passed by, pushing a dripstand, and whispered to Jandy, ‘Lucky you…send Dr Sinclair along to the plaster room when you’ve finished with him!’

For heaven’s sake, Jandy thought impatiently, the man was going to be intolerable if he felt that all the women in the unit were falling for him. She just hoped that he was good at his job.

They both walked quickly to the small wing off the main A and E department that had been designated for children. It was a small area that had been used in the past for high-dependency patients and although the walls had been decorated with nursery-rhyme characters to try and make it more child-friendly, it badly needed a make-over—and much more space.

Patrick Sinclair looked round it assessingly. ‘This is the paediatric section?’ he remarked with slight incredulity. ‘Is there a play area here for children that are waiting to be seen?’

‘We’re in line to have a larger wing very soon,’ said Jandy defensively. ‘It’s better than it used to be in the main department—of course, I’m sure you’re used to state-of-the-art facilities, but we’re short of cash here.’

He looked at her shrewdly as if he realised she was annoyed. ‘I’m not making comparisons—Cuthbert’s was a newly built hospital, so it wouldn’t be fair to do so. I was merely making an observation,’ he said smoothly. ‘Right—shall we get started?’

Annoyed by what she took to be rather high-handed criticism of her beloved Delford Infirmary, Jandy followed him into the cubicle.

Her heart went out to the little boy—large frightened eyes looked at them owlishly through wirerimmed glasses on a pale little face, and there were tear stains on his round cheeks. When they came in he knuckled his hand into his eyes to try and stop crying. She knew it wasn’t only the pain that upset him—it was the alien surroundings and not knowing what was going to happen to him next. Despite the efforts to make the room more child-friendly to a five-year-old, the place was deeply intimidating.

A purpling bump like a dark egg was on one of the child’s temples and one small leg had a long deep gash down the calf. There was something pathetic about that little limb laid across the bed.

A woman sat in a corner, looking at a magazine and chewing gum but not doing much to comfort the little boy—in fact, not taking any notice of him at all. She looked up at Patrick and Jandy with little interest, giving them a nod, and went back to her magazine.

Patrick said, ‘Good morning,’ to her courteously, then sat down on a chair by the bed and leaned forward to the child, trying to get his attention and distract him from his present terror. He smiled cheerfully and patted one plump little hand comfortingly.

‘Hello—you’re Jimmy Tate, aren’t you?’ he asked gently, having a swift look at the file he’d been given. ‘I’m Dr Sinclair and this is Nurse Marshall, and we’re going to be looking after you. Don’t you worry, we’ll have you feeling better in no time, Jimmy.’

Patrick’s voice was soothing and the familiar clichés reassuring. Gradually Jimmy’s sobs became intermittent, just the odd one shaking his little body, and although his lip still trembled, now he was looking at Patrick, gradually relaxing a little.

Jandy swivelled the overhead light above the child so that his wounds could be seen more clearly, and reflected almost with surprise that the new registrar seemed to have a good manner with his small patient—getting Jimmy to relax and trust him went a long way towards recovery. If Dr Sinclair was arrogant, he was hiding it at the moment and she relented.

‘You’re a brave boy,’ Patrick said, looking closely at the bruise on the child’s temple and then the cut on his leg. He looked up at Jandy. ‘I think we can use steristrips for this, don’t you?’

Jandy nodded and smiled reassuringly at the little boy. ‘It really will feel better when I’ve put the magic strips on,’ she said. She went to a cupboard which, when opened, revealed a stock of toys from which she pulled out a kaleidoscope. ‘Have you seen one of these, Jimmy? While I’m bandaging your poorly leg, I want you to shake that and look down it—you’ll see some lovely patterns there.’

Slowly Jimmy reached for the toy and put his eye to it. Jandy watched as the little boy became absorbed in what he was seeing then she started to swab the wound gently with saline solution.

Patrick turned to the woman, who’d barely looked up as they’d come in, continuing to be engrossed in her magazine. She seemed totally uninterested in what was happening to Jimmy.

‘Excuse me.’ His voice was courteous but firm—meant to be heeded. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

The woman stopped chewing her gum for a second and brushed a lock of greasy hair from her eyes. She had the unkempt look of someone who had lost interest in life and herself, reflected Jandy. There were a lot like her who came to Casualty.

‘He fell off his bicycle and hit his head on the steps,’ she said tersely. ‘I told him not to ride it in the back garden with the dogs around.’

‘I take it you’re Mrs Tate—his mother?’ asked Patrick, making a few notes.

‘I’m not his mother—I’m his stepmother.’

Her voice was almost aggressive and Jandy saw Patrick look up quickly, something unfathomable in his expression, then he said smoothly, ‘Has he been sick?’

‘Yes—all over the floor of course.’

‘I see. And did the dogs snap at him while he was riding his bike?’

Mrs Tate shrugged and said in a defensive tone, ‘No, they just jumped up at him, having a bit of a lark. It was Jimmy’s fault—he was teasing them. They wouldn’t hurt a fly if they hadn’t been provoked…he’s been told often enough.’ She shifted restlessly in her chair. ‘Will this take long? I’ve got a baby at home and I had to ask my neighbour to look after her while I brought this one in.’

Patrick’s eyes met Jandy’s for a brief second—they were flinty hard. They were all taught to be impartial but she didn’t blame him for showing a hint of the fury he must be feeling on the child’s behalf. How could anyone be so unsympathetic to an injured five-year-old? A muscle tightened slightly by Patrick’s mouth and his voice was clipped.

‘It will take as long as it takes to see to this wound and make sure Jimmy’s not injured his skull—he’ll be taken to X-Ray in a minute. Now, can you tell me what time he had this accident?’

‘About an hour ago,’ Mrs Tate replied sulkily.

‘Did you see it happen?’

Her eyes shifted momentarily and she muttered, ‘No—but I sent for the ambulance as soon as I saw it was serious,’ she added self-righteously.

‘Were you out when it happened?’

Again her eyes looked away from his. ‘Just at a neighbour’s—not far away.’

‘So you don’t know if the dogs attacked him?’

Jandy could almost feel Patrick Sinclair restraining himself—it wasn’t their role to be judgemental, but it could be difficult at times. He made some notes on the file and the woman scowled.

‘I told you—they wouldn’t do that. Can I go now? You can ring me when you’ve seen to him. Stop whinging, Jimmy—you’re a big boy now.’

Big tears had started to roll down Jimmy’s cheeks again and Jandy compressed her lips—it wasn’t fair that the little boy should be chastised.

‘Perhaps you could wait and see the result of the X-ray?’ she suggested. ‘It won’t take me long to dress his wound. I take it he’s had his tetanus jab?’

Mrs Tate sighed heavily. ‘He’s had all them jabs. I’ll have to go and ring my neighbour, then…I’ll be outside the entrance if you need me.’

She disappeared down towards the waiting room and Patrick turned to Jandy. ‘We’ll need to run blood tests, Hb, CRP and respiration checks before we take him down to X-Ray and ring up Paediatrics and get someone to look at the plates.’

Jimmy looked at them both, eyes round and anxious behind his glasses. Patrick smiled kindly at him.

‘Hang on there, Jimmy, and we’ll take you down to have a photograph taken of your head—it won’t hurt a bit. I tell you what, Nurse Marshall, I think this little boy’s been one of the bravest we’ve had here today—I think he deserves something special!’

His blue eyes looked at her questioningly—not having worked at this hospital before, he wouldn’t know what rewards they offered their little patients.

Jandy grinned. ‘Quite right, Doctor—I’ve got a special medal for someone like Jimmy!’

She opened a drawer and handed Patrick a plastic medal with ‘Very Brave Patient’ printed on it, which Patrick pinned on Jimmy’s jumper. The little boy stared down at it then looked up at the adults with a shy smile.

‘Is it mine?’ he asked. It was the first time he’d spoken.

‘It certainly is—you deserve it, sweetheart,’ said Jandy. ‘And now we’ll take you to have that photograph taken.’

‘I’m not happy with that head wound and the fact he’s been sick,’ said Patrick as he and Jandy walked back from the paediatric section, leaving Tilly Rodman to stay with Jimmy and read him a story. ‘Have you rung Paediatrics yet? He’ll be kept in anyway for observation, whatever the results are.’

Jandy nodded. ‘They’ve got a bed—and at least it gives him a night away from that ghastly woman. She’d obviously left him alone while she gossiped with her friend.’

Patrick’s expression darkened, and Jandy noticed the small scar at the side of his face seemed more pronounced and livid.

‘I can’t tell you how angry that woman makes me,’ he said in a controlled, terse tone that only emphasised his disgust. ‘I’ve no doubt that that little boy’s not having a very happy life. I’ll talk to the child liaison officer about my concerns regarding the stepmother—no child should be at the mercy of someone like that. I didn’t see a shred of affection or compassion for Jimmy.’

There was such suppressed venom in his voice that Jandy looked at him with surprise. She would have thought he’d have taken a more measured approach—still taking it just as seriously but not quite so personally. After all, in an A and E department it wasn’t unusual to come across a case like Jimmy’s.

‘It’s really got to you, hasn’t it?’ she said.

He looked down at her and shrugged. ‘I guess I went over the top a bit there—took it to heart. I should be more objective, I know.’ He bunched his hands in his pockets. ‘Sorry—it’s a bit of a hobby horse of mine.’

Jandy nodded, slightly bemused by this worldlywise doctor’s soft centre—somehow she felt there was a hidden agenda behind his words.

‘I feel that way too,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how anyone could be as callous as she was…but it happens, doesn’t it? We see all sorts of cases here and often it’s quite heart-rending. And, of course, if we have any doubts about Jimmy’s treatment, we should have it investigated.’

Patrick looked down at her upturned concerned face with her wide brown eyes illuminated by a beam of sunshine through the window, honey-blonde hair shining in its light—some had escaped from the band that held it back, and suddenly he pictured how it would spill out like a sheet of soft gold over her shoulders if the band was pulled away completely…

He smiled wryly to himself. How long ago had it been since he’d touched a woman or had any kind of intimacy with one? Oh, sure, he’d thought about it when he’d been the odd one out at a party when everyone else had a partner, or lying awake in the early hours and feeling sorry for himself. But that one memorable disaster three years ago had ensured that he’d kept well away from anything but mild flirtations since then.

Of course, he thought sadly, once he’d had everything—a wonderful woman, a perfect life, and then like a bolt from the blue it had come to an end, and he couldn’t imagine ever having it again. He clenched his fists together to control his emotions. Stop it, he told himself fiercely—don’t go there! He had his darling Livy to think of now.

Then he sighed as he refocused on the real world. ‘I’d better go and write up this case report,’ he said abruptly, shifting his gaze from her face. ‘See you soon.’

Jandy stared rather bemusedly after his tall retreating figure as he strode back to the desk. When Patrick had looked at her with those intense blue eyes of his, she had felt the oddest little tug on her heart, a flicker of attraction. How peculiar was that, when only a few minutes before she’d been annoyed by his criticism of the paediatric department—another bighead from London who probably thought he knew everything!

She went to clear up the cubicle that Jimmy had occupied and reflected crossly that she hadn’t thought for a long time about men, except for the need to steer clear of them as much as possible. Then a man walked into the department with an attractive smile and amazing blue eyes and suddenly she was imagining all kinds of things! She shook her head irritably. Being too aware of married men and their thoughts was a dangerous pastime—they were strictly off-limits to her. What she had to concentrate on was finding a new place for her, Abigail and Lydia to live—and soon!

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER the initial flurry of cases there was a lull. Typical of A and E—one couldn’t predict what was going to come in, although generally Friday and Saturday nights were mayhem. Jandy finished checking the cubicles for supplies of bandages, paper towels and latex gloves, and during the ten minutes allotted for her lunch decided to ring her sister and ask her to get in touch with the agent about the lease of the house. There was no possibility of buying it, but perhaps the owner could be persuaded to give them a little more time to find something else.

Jandy walked quickly down the corridor to the payphone in Reception as Delford A and E was firmly against the use of mobile phones in the department. It was typical that someone was already using the phone, she thought with irritation. She leant against the wall near the kiosk, hoping the man would see she was waiting, then she realised that it was Patrick Sinclair.

Watching him now, she wondered what had made her think there had been anything remotely intimate in the way he had looked at her earlier. He was just an ordinary guy who happened to have the kind of sexy looks that would draw some women’s eyes—over six feet of impressive body, in fact, and thick dark hair, endearingly rumpled—but he wasn’t all that special, was he?

He finished his conversation, came out of the kiosk and gave her a smile and a half-wave as he passed her—she was surprised at the little frisson of excitement she felt when he did that. She found herself smiling as she dialled her sister’s mobile number and started to speak to her.

‘Hi, Lydia—did you get onto the agent about the house? I left the letter on the kitchen table…’

Karen Borley was writing up the whiteboard when Jandy returned. She looked at Jandy’s exasperated face.

‘Has something happened?’ she enquired.

Jandy groaned. ‘I’ve just been speaking to my sister. She’s been in touch with the agent and we definitely have to be out in four weeks—sooner if possible! Can you believe Lydia has told the agent we’d be interested in a massive house at an enormous monthly rent? She seems to think we’re rolling in money.’

‘Oh, dear—Lydia is rather impetuous, isn’t she?’ said Karen vaguely as she shuffled through some case sheets.

‘Of course she’s away the next week,’ added Jandy, ‘Leaving me to organise everything! Typical!’

Patrick Sinclair looked up from the computer and said noncommittally, ‘If you really are stuck for somewhere to live, I do happen to know a place that’s empty and needs a tenant—it’s a bit neglected and it’s in the country, so it may not suit you. But if you get desperate…’

Jandy was surprised that a man like him should bother himself with her problems. ‘Really? It’s very kind of you to suggest it…I might be very interested…do you know the owner?’

He nodded. ‘Yes—I know him well.’

‘Perhaps if you could find out the rent he’s asking…’

‘No problem,’ Patrick started to say, when Karen put down the phone and interrupted them, her cheeks slightly pink as if she’d heard something of interest. She looked around, making sure no one was listening.

‘Mr Vernon’s just been on to me about a patient he’s been looking at in the small theatre,’ she said in a hushed voice. ‘He was picked up by the police outside a pub earlier this morning and taken back to the station on a drunk and disorderly charge. Evidently he’d had a bit of a fracas with some young lads…but it’s rather a delicate situation.’

‘So far normal,’ murmured Jandy. ‘So why is it a delicate situation?’

Sister flicked a look at her and said impressively, ‘I think you’ll know what I mean when you see him—it’s Leo Parker, the agony uncle who does that chat show on television.’

Jandy raised her eyebrows. ‘Wow! Leo Parker, the Voice of Reason? The press will be interested, won’t they?’

‘Exactly!’ Karen pursed her lips. ‘I don’t want a word of who this patient is to get out—I can’t bear those journalists running all over the place, disrupting the department, questioning everybody. If they get a whiff of this, it’ll be bedlam.’

‘Better prepare for bedlam, then,’ Jandy said under her breath. ‘This place is like a sieve when it comes to gossip!’

She heard Patrick chuckle as they filed into the cubicle. ‘Sounds familiar…’ he murmured.

‘Mr Parker was just about conscious when he was brought in,’ explained Karen. ‘The police were concerned that it might not be just drink that’s affecting him and that he could have had a crack on the head.’

‘Are his X-rays clear?’ asked Patrick.

‘Not a sign of anything. Mr Vernon has already had a look at his skull plates—quite normal. But he’s in and out of consciousness, so something’s wrong. We’re waiting for his bloods to come back, but I’d like him closely monitored. Give me a shout if you find anything.’

Leo Parker lay on the bed, the impressive head of thick grey hair, which was his trademark, matted with blood from a gash on his forehead. He shifted restlessly from side to side, moving his limbs and muttering incoherently. Jandy was struck by how ordinary he looked, just as vulnerable as every other patient who came in to A and E reduced to helplessness by their condition.

‘Poor man—not quite the towering TV personality at the moment,’ murmured Jandy, looking at the trace on the graph over the bed giving his oxygen levels and pulse rate. ‘Heart rate’s accelerated and his BP’s quite low.’

‘He’s right out of it at the moment,’ commented Patrick, bending over the man and shining a small torch into the pupil of each eye. Then he bent the patient’s legs, striking below the knees sharply. ‘His reflexes seem OK. What about his plantar reflex?’

Jandy took a pencil out of her pocket and drew it across the base of the man’s foot, which curled in response.

‘Nothing wrong there…’ She bent forward and sniffed the man’s breath. ‘Nice and beery—he’s obviously had a few bevies,’ she remarked. She frowned and sniffed again. ‘Wait a minute…there’s something else…Funny smell…acetone, I think.’

Patrick leaned close to the man and nodded back at her, touching the man’s face. ‘Absolutely right—he’s sweaty as well. Alcohol-induced hypoglycaemia,’ he added almost to himself. ‘I don’t suppose he checked his blood-sugar levels after having a bit to drink. That’s why his speech is so garbled—his glucose levels will be very low.’

‘If he’d been left in that police cell, it could have been curtains.’

‘Yup—he’s lucky they brought him in when they did. We’ll give him fifty grams of glucose intravenously. I take it the packs are in the cupboard up there?’

Jandy handed Patrick one of the pre-packed syringes and they both watched the patient after he’d been injected to see how long it took for him to come round.

‘If only he realised the harm he could do to himself when he drinks,’ he remarked drily. ‘Because he’s diabetic everything can shut down when the nervous system becomes sluggish…organ damage, brain damage, you name it.’

Leo gradually opened his eyes and looked around him in a confused way. ‘Hello, there,’ Patrick said. ‘Feeling a bit better, Mr Parker? I think you’re nearly with us again.’

The man gazed up at him blankly, blinking his eyes and staring around fuzzily, his system trying to restore reactions and memory.

‘Well, that took just over a minute—miraculous!’ murmured Patrick. He nodded at Jandy approvingly.

God, his eyes were amazing! Once again they seemed to hold hers for a second before she could drag her glance away. Irritably she thought that it was becoming something of a habit, imagining that the man was looking at her in some sort of special way. He wasn’t hers to fantasise about.

She reached into the cupboard without comment and slipped on latex gloves before starting to swab the cut on Leo Parker’s head. He made a feeble attempt to bat her hand away then began to stir, trying to sit up before flopping back against the pillow.

‘Where am I?’ he mumbled.

‘You’re in Delford General Casualty Department,’ said Patrick. ‘You overdid the alcohol, I’m afraid…not a good idea when you’re diabetic. We’ll get you a bed.’

There was a sudden pause, and a girl’s impatient voice floated over to them beyond the curtain. ‘I need to see Leo now. I was with him when he fell…he’ll want me with him…’

‘Are you a relative?’ Jandy recognised the voice of Danny Smith, the A and E receptionist.

‘I’m his partner—and his PA.’ The girl’s voice sounded defiant. ‘Delphine Hunt.’

‘Well, the doctor’s looking at him now—can you wait a minute?’

Patrick went over to the curtains and swished them back. ‘You can come in now if you like—Mr Parker’s coming round gradually. Perhaps you can tell us what happened.’

Delphine Hunt had bright red hair cascading past her shoulders, and a very short dress under a fake-fur evening jacket. She brushed Patrick aside without a word and flung herself onto the bed next to Leo Parker, kissing him passionately then breaking into sobs. ‘Babe—are you OK? I’ve been out of my mind with worry…’

‘Hey—wait a moment,’ said Patrick, moving forward and pulling the girl away. ‘Let the patient breathe! He’s just coming out of a diabetic coma—he’s not fit to be manhandled.’

‘Is he going to be OK? I thought those thugs were going to kill him…’ Delphine started to cry and the make-up around her eyes ran in little black rivulets down her cheeks.

Jandy pushed a chair forward. ‘Why don’t you sit down here and tell us what happened?’ she said gently.

‘And keep your voice down please,’ added Patrick drily.

‘We…we were having a quiet drink, and these yobbos started calling him names, just because he’s on TV.’ Delphine pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. ‘Leo’s a bit impetuous and he went over and had it out with them…and the next thing he’s on the floor and the police have been called. They said he was drunk and disorderly. He never was—he’d only had a few, and it wasn’t his fault at all!’

‘I guess you’ve been trying to get to him since he was taken to the police station, haven’t you?’ said Patrick.

‘I’d just got to the station when the ambulance drove off and I saw Leo being taken on it and driven away…they wouldn’t tell me a thing.’