to confrontations such as this and called to the nurses’ station over her shoulder as she followed the two sisters out. ‘Just let Security know we might need them.’
And this was what Courtney had reduced her to, Bridgette thought, standing outside the hospital early in the morning, with security guards hovering. But Bridgette was too angry to keep quiet.
‘He climbed out of his cot!’ Courtney was immediately on the defensive the moment they were outside. ‘I didn’t know that he climbed. You should have told me.’ Maybe it was a good idea that security guards were present because hearing Courtney try to blame her for this had Bridgette’s blood boiling.
‘He’s never once climbed out of the cot when I’ve had him,’ Bridgette answered hotly. ‘Mind you, he was probably trying to get out and change his own nappy or make himself a drink, or give himself a wash. You lazy, selfish…’ She stopped herself then because if she said any more, it would be way too much. She paused and Helga stepped in, took Courtney inside, and Bridgette stood there hugging her arms around herself tightly, mortified when Dominic came out.
‘This has nothing to do with you,’ Bridgette said, still angry. ‘You’ve stepped aside.’
‘You know I had to.’
She did know that.
‘Is this why you couldn’t get away?’ Dominic asked, and she didn’t answer, because a simple yes would have been a lie. ‘Bridgette?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘You never do,’ he pointed out, but now really wasn’t the time. ‘I know that it doesn’t seem like it now,’ Dominic said, ‘but Harry being admitted might be the best thing that could have happened. Things might get sorted now.’
As an ambulance pulled up she gave a nod, even if she didn’t believe it.
‘Bridgette, I was actually going to come over and see you today,’ Dominic said, and she knew what was coming. ‘I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else—I’ve just given notice. I’m leaving on Saturday.’ He chose not to tell her just how impossible the decision had been, but in the end it had surely been the right one—he wanted simple, straightforward, and Bridgette was anything but. He’d opened up to her more than he had with anyone, and yet he realised that, still, despite his question, he knew very little about her and even now she said nothing. ‘Anyway, I thought I should tell you myself.’
‘Sure.’
‘I’d better get up to…’ His voice stopped, his stomach tightened, as the ambulance door opened and he met Tony’s frantic eyes.
DOMINIC checked himself, because it should make no difference that it wasn’t Esperanza on the stretcher. Instead it was Roman, their three-year-old, and he needed Dominic’s help and concentration just as much as his little sister would have. ‘Dr Mansfield’s here…’ Tony was talking reassuringly to his son, who was struggling hard to breathe as they moved him straight into the critical area. ‘The doctor who looked after Esperanza. That’s good news.’
‘He did this last year…’ Tony said as Dominic examined him, and Tony explained about his severe asthma. ‘He does it a lot, but last year he ended up in Intensive Care.’
‘Okay.’ Dominic listened to his chest and knew that Roman would probably have to head to Intensive Care again this morning.
Roman took up all of Dominic’s morning, but by lunchtime, when he’d spoken to the family and the frantic abuela, things were a little calmer.
‘While he’s still needing hourly nebulisers it’s safer that he is here,’ Dominic explained, but then it was easier to speak in Spanish, so that Abuela understood. He told them things were steadily improving and would continue to do so.
Tony rang Maria, who was of course frantic, and Dominic spoke to her too.
‘You get a taxi home,’ Tony said to Abuela, ‘and Maria can come in between feeds.’
Writing up his drug sheets, Dominic listened for a moment as they worked out a vague plan of action, heard that Tony would ring his boss and take today off.
‘You think he might go to the ward tomorrow?’
‘Or this evening.’ Dominic nodded.
‘I’ll stay with him tonight and if you can come in in the morning to be with Roman I can go to work tomorrow,’ Tony said to his mother. She rattled the start of twenty questions at him, but Tony broke in.
‘We’ll deal with that if it happens.’
Dominic headed down to the children’s ward. Bridgette wasn’t around and neither was Courtney. An extra layer had been added to Harry’s cot, in case he was, in fact, a climber, and it stood like a tall cage in the middle of the nursery. He walked in and took off his jacket, washed his hands and then turned round and looked straight into the waiting grey eyes of Harry, who wasn’t his patient, he reminded himself.
Harry’s head injury wasn’t at all serious, but he had been moved up to the children’s ward mid-morning. Bridgette knew it was more of a social admission. Maybe she had done rather too good a job of reassuring her parents that it wasn’t serious when she rang them, because they didn’t dash in. After all, her father had to have a filling that afternoon, so they said they would come in the evening and, with a weary sigh, her mother agreed, yes, they would stop by Bridgette’s flat and bring a change of clothes, pyjamas and toiletries.
Bridgette took the opportunity to voice a few of her concerns about his speech delay with the doctor and he gave her a sort of blink when she spoke about Harry’s fixation with bricks and that he didn’t talk much.
‘Has he had his hearing checked?’
‘Er, no.’
‘He’s had a few ear infections, though,’ Dr Andrews said, peering through his examination notes. ‘We’ll get his hearing tested and then he might need an ENT outpatient appointment.’
Later they were interviewed by a social worker, but by dinnertime Courtney had had enough. ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said. ‘I was up all night with him. I think I’ll go home and get some sleep.’
‘We can put a bed up beside his cot,’ a nurse offered.
‘I’d never sleep with all the noise,’ Courtney said, gave Harry a brief kiss and then she was gone, safe in the knowledge that Bridgette would stay the night. Dominic was on the ward when Bridgette’s parents arrived, talking with the charge nurse. She saw him glance up when her mother asked to be shown where Harry was.
‘Here, Mum,’ Bridgette said as they made their way over, all nervous smiles, slightly incredulous that their grandson was actually here.
‘Here’s the bits you wanted,’ her mum said, handing over a bag.
Bridgette peered into the bag and flinched. ‘Did you deliberately choose the ugliest pyjamas I own?’ She grinned. ‘I’d forgotten that I even had these!’
