said. ‘That’s what you want, that’s where you’ve always been heading. Don’t try and blame us ending on Harry.’
‘I’m not blaming Harry,’ Dominic said, and he wasn’t. ‘I’ll admit I was a bit fed up with his aunt on Friday.’
‘Sorry to mess up your night.’ She so wasn’t going to do this again. ‘God, you’re just like—’
‘Don’t say it, Bridgette,’ Dominic warned, ‘because I am nothing like him.’ He’d heard a bit about her ex and wasn’t about to be compared to Paul. ‘I’ll tell you one of the differences between him and me. I’d have had this sorted from the start. Your sister’s using you, Bridgette.’ He looked at her, all tousled and angry, and truly didn’t know what this was about.
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’
‘So why do you let her?’ He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘Do you know, I think you hide behind Harry. He’s your excuse not to go out, not to get away.’ Bridgette was right, Sydney was where he’d always intended to be—that was his hospital of choice and he wasn’t about to have his career dictated to by Courtney.
‘I’m going for the interview. I’m flying out on Thursday night. I’ll text you the flight times. We’ll be back Sunday night.’
‘Don’t book a ticket for me,’ Bridgette said. ‘Because I can’t go.’
‘Yes, you can. And, yes, I am booking for you,’ Dominic said. ‘So you’ve plenty time to change your mind.’
He did book the tickets.
But he knew she wouldn’t come.
‘SORRY to call you down from NICU.’ Rebecca, the accident and emergency registrar, looked up from the notes she was writing. It was four a.m. on Tuesday morning. It had been a long day for Dominic and a very long night on call. After the interviews in Sydney and long walks on the beach with Chris, his head felt as if it was exploding, not that Rebecca could have guessed it. He was his usual practical self. ‘I’m trying to stall Mum by saying we’re waiting for an X-ray.’
‘No problem. What do we know so far?’
‘Well, the story is actually quite consistent—Mum heard a bang and found him on the floor. He’d climbed out if his cot, which fits the injury. She said that he was crying by the time she went in to him. It was her reaction that was strange—complete panic, called an ambulance. She was hysterical when she arrived but she’s calmed down.’
‘Are there any other injuries you can see?’
‘A couple of small bruises, an ear infection, he’s a bit grubby and there’s a bit of nappy rash,’ Rebecca said, ‘but he is a toddler, after all. Anyway, I’m just not happy and I thought you should take a look.’ She handed him the patient card and as Dominic noted the name, as his stomach seemed to twist in on itself, a young woman called from the cubicle.
‘How much longer are we going to be waiting here?’ She peered out and all Dominic could think was that if he had not recognised the name, it would never have entered his head that this woman was Bridgette’s sister. She had straggly dyed blond hair and was much skinnier. Her features were sharper than Bridgette’s and even if she wasn’t shouting, she was such an angry young thing, so hostile in her actions, so on the edge, that she was, Dominic recognised in an instant, about to explode any moment. ‘How much longer till he gets his X-ray or CT or whatever?’
‘There’s another doctor here to take a look at Harry,’ Helga, the charge nurse, calmly answered. ‘He’ll be in with you shortly—it won’t be long.’
‘Well, can someone watch him while I get a coffee at least?’ Courtney snapped. ‘Why can’t I take it in the cubicle?’
‘You can’t take a hot drink—’ Helga started, but Dominic interrupted.
‘Courtney, why don’t you go and get a coffee? Someone will sit with your son while you take a little break.
‘Is that okay?’ He checked with Helga and she sent in a student nurse, but Rebecca was too sharp not to notice that he had known the name of the patient’s mother. ‘You know her?’ She grimaced as Courtney flounced out, because this sort of thing was always supremely awkward.
‘I know his aunt.’ Dominic was sparse with his reply but Helga filled in for him.
‘Bridgette. She’s a midwife on Maternity. She’s on her way. I called her a little while ago—Courtney was in a right panic when she arrived and she asked us to.’
‘Okay.’ Dominic tried not to think about Bridgette taking that phone call—he had to deal with this without emotion, had to step out and look at the bigger picture. ‘I’m going to step aside.’ He came to the only decision he could in such a situation. ‘I’m going to ring Greg Andrews and ask him to take over the patient, but first I need to take a look at Harry and make sure that there’s nothing medically urgent that needs to be dealt with.’ His colleague might take a while. He did not engage in further small talk; he did not need to explain his involvement in the case. After all, he was stepping aside. Dominic walked into the cubicle where Harry lay resting in a cot with a student nurse by his side. Rebecca came in with him.
‘Good morning, Harry.’ He took off his jacket and hung it on the peg and proceeded to wash his hands and then made his way over to the young patient. He looked down into dark grey eyes that stared back at him and they reminded him of Bridgette’s. He could see the hurt behind them and Dominic did not try to win a smile. ‘I expect you’re feeling pretty miserable? Well, I’m just going to take a look at you.’ Gently he examined the toddler, looking in his ears for any signs of bleeding, and Harry let him, hardly even blinking as he shone the ophthalmoscope into the back of each eye, not even crying or flinching as Dominic gently examined the tender bruise. Through it all Harry didn’t say a word. ‘Has he spoken since he came here?’ Dominic asked
‘Not much—he’s asked for a drink.’ The curtains opened then and Helga walked in. Behind her was Bridgette, her face as white as chalk, but she smiled to Harry.
‘Hey.’ She stroked his little cheek. ‘I hear you’ve been in the wars.’ She spoke ever so gently to him, but her eyes were everywhere, lifting the blanket and checking him carefully, even undoing his nappy, and he saw her jaw tighten at the rash.
‘How is he?’
‘He just gave everyone a fright!’ Helga said, but Bridgette’s eyes went to Dominic’s.
‘Could I have a quick word, Bridgette?’
He stepped outside the cubicle and she joined him.
‘He’s filthy,’ Bridgette said. She could feel tears rising up, felt as if she was choking, so angry was she with her sister. ‘And he didn’t have any rash when I saw him on Friday. I bought loads of cream that she took—’
‘Bridgette,’ he interrupted, ‘I’m handing Harry’s care over to a colleague. You will need to tell him all this. It’s not appropriate that I’m involved. You understand that?’ She gave
