reactions to allergens. But I also found that a purple-blue rash like a bruise could appear in a few bad allergic reactions and they were genetic. However, these severe rashes lasted four to six weeks, which wasn’t what Aneta had described at all. She’d said the symptoms came and went quickly. I was about to continue my research when I heard Kit’s plaster cast bang against the cot side, followed by his startled cry. I went straight upstairs. Kit was standing up in his cot, his little face puckered into tears.
‘It’s all right, love,’ I said, picking him up and holding him close. ‘There, there,’ I soothed. Molly slept on in her bed close by. It occurred to me that cot bumpers would have cushioned the blow when Kit’s plaster hit the sides, but they were now deemed unsafe as some infants had tragically become entangled in them and suffocated.
Eventually Kit began to relax against me and his eyes grew heavy and closed. I lay him on his side in the cot and gently rubbed his back. I also had a closer look at his arm in the plaster cast. I could see by the dimmed light that his hand and fingers were a healthy colour and weren’t swollen so I didn’t think it was causing him a problem, apart from being uncomfortable and hitting the cot when he turned over. After about ten minutes of rubbing his back, he appeared to be fully asleep and I crept from the room. I’d just got outside when I heard his startled cry again and went straight back. Not quickly enough. He’d woken Molly. ‘I want my mummy!’ she cried, sitting bolt upright in bed.
‘It’s OK, love, you’ll see her soon,’ I said. ‘Lie down and go back to sleep.’
Molly lay down but didn’t go back to sleep. ‘I want my mummy!’ she cried over and over again.
I picked up Kit and held him on my lap as I sat on the edge of Molly’s bed and calmed her too. If a child who has been with me for some time wakes at night I go into their room, resettle them and come out, and repeat until they’re asleep. But this was only Kit and Molly’s second night in a strange room and Molly had been sick earlier, so I stayed with them. ‘Do you feel all right?’ I asked her.
‘No, I want my mummy,’ she said plaintively.
‘I know you do, love, and you’ll see Mummy and Daddy soon. But now I want you to get some sleep.’ I tucked her soft toy in beside her and stayed sitting on the bed, soothing Molly and gently rocking Kit back to sleep.
Time passed and eventually they both appeared to be asleep. I carefully stood and returned Kit to his cot. He licked his lips, murmured something and turned over but didn’t wake. I waited a few more minutes to make sure neither of them woke, and then crept out. It was now 10.30 p.m.
Downstairs, I shut down the computer, then stayed in the front room and wrote up my log notes. Ten minutes later Lucy and Paula finished watching their film and came into the front room on their way upstairs to bed. I reminded them to be quiet as Molly and Kit’s bedroom door was open. Telling me I should wake them if I needed help in the night, they kissed me goodnight and went up. I finished writing my log notes, put Sammy to bed, then went upstairs too. I checked on Molly and Kit and they were both fast asleep. I then lay in my bed listening out for them. Around midnight I heard Adrian quietly let himself in and then nothing more until 2 a.m., when Molly and Kit woke. I managed to settle them reasonably quickly without waking the rest of the house and they then slept until 7 a.m. – a huge improvement on the night before. However, as soon as Molly woke she was in tears. ‘I want my mummy,’ she sobbed. ‘When can I see Mummy? I want to go home.’ Seeing his sister so upset made Kit cry. ‘Mummy, Mummy,’ he wailed. So at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning I had two children on my lap, crying their hearts out for their mother. I felt like a wicked witch.
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