shook his head but offered an apologetic smile. ‘I’m keeping it low-key. I’m taking them to visit the grandparents the next day for afternoon tea and I’m sure you’ll be invited as well, but my neighbours have said they’d be delighted to have an in-house trick or treat happen on the actual birthday and that’s probably as much excitement as two three-year-olds can handle.’
Miranda’s nod conveyed understanding of the need to keep the celebration private. She’d seen photographs of the Davenport extravaganzas of years past, before she’d become a part of the family—when there had been bouncy castles, magicians and even ponies or small zoos involved.
Buying into Halloween was a big step forward this year but there was going to be a nursery school parade so the costumes were essential. Charles found himself staring again at the curtain that Grace was behind. Hadn’t she said something about finding a costume for Houston? Maybe she’d found a good costume shop.
And maybe Houston could join in the fun? The boys loved that dog and he could be an addition to the private party that would delight them rather than overwhelm them, like a full-on Davenport gathering had the potential to do.
Grace would have to be invited, too, of course, but that wasn’t a big deal. Somehow, the intrigue about what had happened to change her had overridden any internal warning about spending time with her. He wanted an answer to the puzzle and getting a little closer was the only way he was going to solve the mystery. Close enough to be friends—like he and Miranda had become all those years ago—but nothing more. And that wouldn’t be a problem. The barrier to anything more was so solid he wouldn’t have the first idea how to get past it.
And he didn’t want to. Even the reminder that that barrier was there was enough to send him back to safe territory and Charles spent the next fifteen minutes focused on the graphs he needed to analyse.
But then Grace appeared from the cubicle and headed straight to the computer closest to where he was sitting. It was tempting to say something totally inappropriate, like asking her whether she might be available for a while in two days’ time, to go trick or treating but this wasn’t the time or place. It was a bit of a shock, in fact, that the urge was even there. So out of character that it wasn’t at all difficult to squash.
‘Looking for results?’
‘Yep. White blood count and creatinine should be available by now. I’ve got cultures, throat swabs and urine pending.’
‘More than a viral illness, then?’
Grace didn’t seem surprised that he was aware of which patient she was dealing with.
‘I think she’s got staphylococcal toxic shock syndrome. Sixteen years old.’
Charles blinked. It was a rare thing to see these days, which meant that it could be missed until it was late enough for the condition to be extremely serious.
‘Signs and symptoms?’
‘High fever, vomiting and diarrhoea, muscle aches, a widespread rash that looks like sunburn. She’s also hypotensive. Seventy-five over thirty and she’s onto her second litre of fluid resus.’ Grace flicked him a glance. ‘She also finished her period two days ago and likes to leave her tampons in overnight.’
Charles could feel his mouth twisting into a lopsided smile. An impressed one. That was the key question that needed to be asked and could be missed. But not by Grace Forbes, apparently.
‘Any foreign material left? Had she forgotten to take a tampon out?’
‘No, but I still think I’m right.’ Grace clicked a key. ‘Yes... Her white count’s sky high. So’s her creatinine, which means she’s got renal involvement. Could be septic shock from another cause but that won’t change the initial management.’
‘Plan?’
‘More fluids, vasopressor support to try and get her BP up. And antibiotics, of course.’
‘Flucloxacillin?’
‘Yes. And I’ll add in clindamycin. There’s good evidence that it’s effective in decreasing toxin production.’ Grace looked past Charles to catch the attention of one of the nursing staff. ‘Amy, could you see if there’s a bed available in ICU, please? I’ve got a patient that’s going to need intensive monitoring for a while.’
‘On it, Dr Forbes.’ The nurse reached for the phone.
Grace was gone, too, back to her patient. Charles gave up on the statistics. He would take them home and do his work later tonight, in those quiet hours after the boys were asleep. He was due to go and collect them soon, anyway.
Maybe he should give up on the idea of inviting Grace and Houston to join their party, too. He could give his boys everything they needed. He could take them out later today and let them choose the costumes they wanted themselves.
A sideways glance showed that Amy had finished her urgent arrangements for Grace’s patient. She noticed his glance.
‘Anything you need, Dr Davenport?’
He smiled at her. ‘Not unless you happen to know of a good costume shop in this part of town?’
* * *
It seemed like every shop between Manhattan Mercy and home had decorated their windows for Halloween and it made Grace smile, despite her weariness after a couple of such busy days at work, to see the jack-o’-lanterns and ghosts and plastic spiders hanging on fluffy webs.
She’d missed this celebration in Australia.
As she turned towards the more residential area, there were groups of children already out, too, off to do their trick or treating in the late afternoon. So many excited little faces peeping out from beneath witches’ hats or lions’ ears, dancing along in pretty dresses with fairy wings on their backs or proudly being miniature superheroes.
What a shame that Charles hadn’t taken her up on her subtle offer to share Halloween with him and his boys. She’d been thinking about him all day, and wondering just how difficult it had been for him when he had to be reliving every moment of this day three years ago when the twins had been born and he’d lost the love of his life.
Her heart was aching for Charles all over again, as she let herself into the apartment building, so it came as a surprise to hear a peal of laughter echoing down the tiled stairway with its wrought-iron bannisters.
The laughter of small people. And a deeper rumble of an adult male.
Grace paused in the foyer, looking upwards, and was rewarded by a small face she recognised instantly, peering down through the rails. His head was covered by a brown hood that had small round ears.
‘Gace... Look at us...’
‘I can’t see you properly, Max.’
The face disappeared but she could still hear him.
‘Daddy... Daddy...we have to visit Gace now...’
And there they were, coming down the stairs. Charles had hold of each twin’s hand to keep them steady. In their other hands, the boys clutched a small, orange, plastic bucket shaped like a pumpkin. She could see plenty
