Maybe This Christmas…?. Alison Roberts
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at the small train of followers he knew he had. Gemma must look like the old woman from the shoe, he thought grimly. So many children she didn’t know what to do.
The irony would be unbearable if he let himself go there.
‘Space?’ he queried crisply. ‘Query meningitis here.’
‘Um…’ Julia gave her head a tiny shake and turned it to glance over her shoulder at the board. ‘Resus One’s just been cleared… but—’
‘Thanks.’ Andy didn’t give her time to say that it probably needed to be kept clear for a more urgent case. The privacy and space of one of the larger areas would be ideal to contain this unacceptably large group. It wasn’t until he led them all into the space he realised that isolating himself from the hubbub of the cubicles would only intensify the undercurrents happening here but, by then, it was too late.
A nurse had just finished smoothing a clean sheet onto the bed. Andy laid the baby down gently. Her wails had diminished as he’d carried her here but the volume got turned up as he put her down and she was rubbing her eyes with small, tight fists. Was the light hurting her? Andy angled the lamp away.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. It was quite easy to ask the question without looking directly at Gemma. Right now she was just another parent of a sick child.
‘Fever, irritability, refusing food.’ Gemma’s voice was strained. ‘She vomited once and her cry sounded…’ her voice wavered ‘… kind of high-pitched.’
Andy focused on the baby. He slid one hand behind her head. Lifting it gently, he was relieved to see her neck flex. If this was a case of meningitis, it was at an early stage but he could feel the heat from the skin beneath wisps of golden hair darkened by perspiration.
‘Let’s get her undressed,’ he told the nurse. ‘I’d like some baseline vital signs, too, thanks.’
Hard to assess a rate of breathing when a baby was this distressed, of course. And the bulging fontanelle could be the result of the effort of crying rather than anything more sinister. Andy straightened for a moment, frowning, as he tried to take in an overall impression.
It didn’t help that there were so many other children in here. The small girl in Gemma’s arms was still whimpering and the older boy was whining.
‘But why can’t I go and play with the toys?’
‘Shh, Jamie.’ The older girl gave him a shove. ‘Sophie’s sick. She might be going to die.’
Andy’s eyebrows reversed direction and shot up. The matter-of-fact tone of the child was shocking. He heard Gemma gasp and it was impossible to prevent his gaze going straight to her face.
She was looking straight back at him.
He could see a mirror of his own shock at Sophie’s statement. And see a flash of despair in Gemma’s eyes.
And he could see something else. A plea? No, it was more like an entire library of unspoken words. Instant understanding and… trust that what was known wouldn’t be used for harm.
And there was that glow again, dammit. Rays of intense light and warmth seeping out from the mental lid he’d slammed over the hole in his heart. Andy struggled to push the lid more firmly into place. To find something to screw it down with.
She’s moved on, a small voice reminded Andy. She’s got children. Another man’s children.
It was Gemma who dragged her gaze clear.
‘She’s not going to die, Hazel.’ But was there an edge of desperation in Gemma’s voice?
‘She’s here so that we can look after her,’ Andy added in his most reassuring adult-to-child tone. ‘And make sure that she doesn’t…’ The stare he was receiving from Jamie was disconcerting. ‘That nothing bad happens.’
The nurse was pulling Sophie’s arms from the sleeves of a soft, hand-knitted cardigan. Sophie was not co-operating. She was flexing her arms tightly and kicking out with her feet. Nothing floppy about her, Andy thought. It was a good sign that she was so upset. It wouldn’t be much fun for anybody if a lumbar puncture was needed to confirm the possibility of meningitis, though. He certainly wouldn’t be doing a procedure like that with an audience of young children, especially when one of them was calmly expecting a catastrophe.
Hazel was giving him a stare as direct as Jamie’s had been. She looked far older than her years and there was something familiar about that serious scrutiny. The penny finally dropped.
Hazel? Jamie? There was no way he could ignore the pull into the forbidden area now. Not that he was going to raise that lid, even a millimetre, but he could tread—carefully—around its perimeter. Andy directed a cautious glance at Gemma.
‘These are your sister’s children? Laura and Evan’s kids?’
He didn’t need to see her nodding. Of course they were. Four years was a long time in a child’s life. The last time he’d seen Hazel she’d been a three-year-old. James had been a baby not much older than Sophie and… and Laura had been pregnant with twins, hadn’t she?
The nurse had succeeded in undressing Sophie now, removing sheepskin bootees and peeling away the soft stretchy suit to leave her in just a singlet and nappy. Sophie was still protesting the procedure and she was starting to sound exhausted on top of being so unhappy. Gemma stepped closer. She tried to reach out a hand to touch the baby but the child she was holding wrapped her arms more tightly around her neck.
‘No-o-o… Don’t put me down, Aunty Gemma.’
Hazel was peering under the bed. ‘You come out of there, Ben. Right now.’
‘And Sophie?’ Andy couldn’t stem a wash of relief so strong it made his chest feel too tight to take a new breath. ‘She’s Laura’s baby?’
‘She was.’ Gemma managed to secure her burden with one arm and touch Sophie’s head with her other hand. She looked up at Andy. ‘She’s mine now. They all are.’
Andy said nothing. He knew his question was written all over his face.
‘They were bringing Sophie home from the hospital,’ Gemma said quietly. ‘There was a head-on collision with a truck at the intersection where their lane joins the main road. A car came out of the lane without giving way and Evan swerved and that put them over the centre line. They… they both died at the scene.’ She pressed her lips together hard and squeezed her eyes shut for a heartbeat.
‘Oh, my God,’ Andy breathed. Laura had been his sister-in-law. Bright and bubbly and so full of life. Gemma had been more than a big sister to her. She had been her mother as well. The news must have been unbelievably devastating. ‘Gemma… I’m so sorry.’
Gemma opened her eyes again, avoiding his gaze. Because accepting sympathy might undo her in front of the children? Her voice was stronger. Artificially bright. ‘Luckily the car seat saved Sophie from any injury.’
‘And you were here in Manchester?’ Andy still couldn’t get his head around it. How long had she been here and why hadn’t he known anything about it? It felt… wrong.
‘No. I was in Sydney. Australia.’
Of course she had been. In the place she’d taken off to four years ago. The point on the globe where she could be as far as possible away from him. Andy could feel his own lips tightening. Could feel himself stepping back from that dangerous, personal ground.
‘But you came back. To look after the kids.’
‘Of course.’
Two tiny words that said so much. Andy knew exactly why Gemma had come back. But the simple statement prised open a completely separate can of worms at the same time. She could abandon her career and traverse the globe to care for children for her sister’s sake?
She hadn’t been able to do even half