‘I can sort that out.’ She nodded. ‘We have a couple of places reserved for special allocations.’ Bridgette turned to her parents. ‘Mum, if I’m on a late shift or working nights and Harry is in my care, for whatever reason, you have to collect him or stay overnight. I can’t always work early shifts.’
‘You know we do our best!’ Betty said. ‘Of course we’ll pick him up.’
Bridgette looked over at the caseworker, who gave a bit of a nod that told her to go on. ‘He’s due to have surgery…’ She was finding a voice and she knew what to do with it, was grateful for Dominic’s advice because she’d heeded it. ‘He’s on the waiting list for grommets and if that comes up while he’s in my care I want to be able to go ahead. I want written permission obtained so that when Harry is in my care, or at any time I’m concerned, I can speak to doctors and I can take him to appointments. And I want—’
‘I don’t want him in daycare,’ Courtney chimed in. ‘I’ve told you—I’m not going anywhere. I decide what treatment he has and who he sees.’
‘That’s fine.’ Bridgette looked at her sister. ‘You have every right to refuse what I’m offering. But I can’t stand aside any more. If you don’t accept my conditions…’ It was the hardest thing she would ever say and could only be said if it was meant. Whether he was serious or not, she was incredibly grateful for Dominic’s offer last night. ‘Then you can deal with it. I’ll move to Sydney.’
‘Bridgette!’ Her mum almost stood up. ‘You know you don’t mean that.’
‘But I do—because I can’t live like this. I can’t watch Harry being passed around like a parcel. So it’s either you accept my terms or I’m moving to Sydney.’
‘You said you’d always be there for me.’ Courtney started to cry, only this time it didn’t move Bridgette. ‘You promised…’
‘Well, that makes us both liars, then,’ Bridgette said. ‘Because I can remember you saying exactly the same to Harry the day he was born.’
‘Bridgette.’ Her mum was trying to be firm, to talk sense into her sensible daughter. ‘You know you’re not going anywhere. Why Sydney?’
‘I’ve met someone,’ Bridgette said. ‘And he’s from there.’ Betty had seen the happy couple, that were back as Bridgette’s screensaver, when she’d had a nose in her daughter’s spare room, had tutted at the two faces smiling back, and she had a terrible feeling her daughter might actually mean what she was saying.
‘You love Courtney…’ Maurice broke in.
‘I’m not sure if I do,’ Bridgette said, and she truly wasn’t sure that she did. ‘I honestly don’t know that I do.’
‘You love Harry.’ Betty triumphed.
‘Yes, I do. So if she wants my help then she can have it, but those are my conditions and she needs to know that any time I think Harry is at risk I will speak up.’ She walked out of the meeting because she had nothing left to say. It had to be up to Courtney. She walked over to the ward and saw Harry sitting in his cot, building his bricks. She let down the cot side and held out her arms. She had meant every word she had said in that room, had convinced herself of it last night, but there was a piece of her that was hidden apart, a piece of her that no one must ever see, because as she picked up her nephew and buried her face in his curls, she knew she could never leave him. They just had to believe that she might.
Dominic watched her cuddling Harry and he wanted to go over, to find out what was happening, but instead he picked up the phone.
It was the longest morning, even though he had plenty to do, but he could not get involved, or be seen to be getting involved, which surely she knew, but still he felt like a bastard.
‘Do you want me to give Harry his lunch?’ Jennifer, one of the nurses, offered. ‘You can go to the canteen, maybe have a little break?’
‘I’m fine,’ Bridgette said. ‘They’re still in the meeting. I’ll give him his lunch and then—’ she took a deep breath ‘—I’m going home.’
‘Jennifer!’ Dominic’s voice barked across the ward. ‘Can you hold on to Harry’s lunch for now, please, and keep him nil by mouth until I’ve spoken to his mum?’
‘What’s going on?’ Bridgette frowned.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Jennifer admitted. ‘Wait there and I’ll find out.’ And she went over and spoke to Dominic, but instead of coming back and informing Bridgette, Jennifer headed off to the conference room. The group was just coming out and it was clear that Courtney had been crying but, along with Jennifer, they all headed back inside.
‘What’s going on?’ She went up to him.
‘Someone’s coming down to speak to his mother.’
‘Dominic!’ She couldn’t believe he’d do this to her.
‘I’d go home now if I were you.’
‘You know I can’t.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You can.’ She looked at him, met those lovely black eyes and somehow she trusted him. ‘Go home,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ve got an awful lot to do.’ She just stood there. ‘Maybe tidy that bedroom, young lady.’
And she trusted him, she really did, but she knew he was leaving tomorrow, knew that right now he was saying goodbye.
‘Go,’ he said, ‘and when she calls, don’t come back.’ He gave her a small wink. ‘You only answer if it’s me.’
‘I can’t do that. I can’t just leave him.’
‘You can,’ he said. ‘I’m here.’
WHEN her phone rang fifteen minutes later, she was driving, just approaching the roundabout, and she didn’t pull over so she could take the call, as she usually would have. She didn’t indicate when she saw that it was Courtney and instead she drove straight on.
Dominic was there.
She felt as if Dominic was there in the car beside her.
It rang again and this time it was her mum. Still, she ignored it.
Then it rang again as she arrived home and she sat at her computer before answering.
‘Oh. Hi, Mum!’
‘You didn’t pick up.’
‘I was driving.’
‘Where are you?’ she asked. ‘I thought you’d gone down to the canteen.’
‘I’m at home,’ she said, as if she was breathing normally, as if home was the natural place she should be.
‘Well, you need to get here!’ Bridgette stared
