neighbour said in disgust. ‘We should just hand him over to the police.’
‘Right now, my priority’s to stop him losing blood. Have you got a first-aid kit?’ Charlie asked.
‘Only plasters and headache tablets.’ The neighbour shrugged. ‘The wife might have a bandage in there.’
Probably one that wasn’t sterile, Charlie guessed. ‘Do you have a clean, dry cloth—a teatowel or something? Please?’
The man nodded and went back inside his house. Meanwhile Charlie quickly assessed Liam’s hand. Normally, in cases of thermal burns, you needed to cool the burn down fast with lukewarm water. But this wasn’t a normal thermal burn—it had been caused by a firework. Fireworks often contained phosphorus, a chemical that reacted with water and caused more burning, so running water over the child’s skin could do more damage.
From what he could see under the blood, the burn appeared to be full thickness, across the whole surface area of Liam’s hand, and two of his fingertips were missing. Gunpowder residue was tattooed into the skin. They’d need to debride the wound—cut away the damaged parts—and do a skin graft. Probably more than one.
‘OK, Liam. I know it’s scary, but I’m going to look after you until the ambulance gets here.’ He needed to keep the boy calm and stem the blood flow. ‘Can you tell me your favourite football team?’
‘M-Manchester United,’ the boy stammered.
The knot at the back of Charlie’s neck started to unravel. Great. If he could get Liam talking, it would take the child’s mind off the injury. If Liam started panicking, there was more chance he’d go into shock. Plus Charlie needed to know who or what was behind that front door. The small pane of glass in the centre of the door was opaque, so trying to look through it wouldn’t help. Had the firework set light to the carpet? Was someone lying inside, hurt?
‘Tell me about the players,’ Charlie said.
The neighbour returned with a pile of dry teatowels. ‘Will these do? More than he deserves, mind. He’s been persecuting Mrs Ward for months.’
‘She’s an old cow. She—’ Liam began, his face screwed up in a mixture of scowling and pain.
‘Later,’ Charlie cut in. ‘I need to clean any chemicals from your hands, Liam. This might hurt, but I’ll try to be quick.’ He looked at the neighbour. ‘Do you know if Mrs Ward is in?’
‘Doesn’t go out much. Dicky ticker.’
So the fright of a firework coming through her letterbox could upset her enough to bring on her heart condition. ‘Can you try and get her to answer the door while I clean Liam’s hand?’
The neighbour nodded. He banged on the door and called through the letterbox, ‘Mary, it’s Bill—can you open the door?’ Charlie quickly cleaned Liam’s hand with one of the teatowels, then covered the wound with the other cloth. He pressed on it to stem the bleeding.
‘No answer,’ Bill said.
‘OK.’ It could be another ten minutes before the ambulance arrived. If Mary Ward had had a heart attack, Charlie needed to act now. ‘I’ll break in. Liam, can you press on that, hard?’ he asked.
‘It hurts,’ Liam whimpered.
‘I know, but we need to stop you losing blood. It’s important—and I need to break this door down in case Mrs Ward’s very ill.’
Liam hung his head. ‘Is she going to die?’
‘I hope not, for your sake. I’ll tell the pol—’ Bill began.
Charlie shook his head very slightly. They didn’t have time to discuss that now. ‘I really need to see if she’s all right. Now, Liam, you keep pressing on that cloth. And keep telling me about Manchester United—it’s really interesting.’
‘Really?’ Liam looked stunned, as if he wasn’t used to anyone paying him proper attention.
Been there, done that, kid, Charlie thought. Though he’d never resorted to playing with fireworks to get the attention he’d needed. He’d just learned to become self-reliant.
‘Keep talking,’ he said, giving the boy an encouraging smile. If Liam kept talking, his voice would give Charlie warning signals if the boy was going into shock: the first signs would be if Liam started to sound ‘spaced out’ or his breathing became shallow.
‘There are a couple of fingertips missing,’ he said, sotto voce, to Bill. ‘Could you try and find them for me and put them in a bag?’ He could tell by the look on Bill’s face that the elderly man thought it served the kid right. ‘He’s only a child,’ Charlie said softly.
‘He’s a wrong ’un.’
‘And he needs help. Please.’
Bill’s mouth thinned, but he started to look through the weeds on the path.
Charlie crouched down to the letterbox. ‘Mrs Ward? My name’s Charlie and I’m a doctor. I’m coming to help you, but if you can’t open the door for me I’ll need to force it open.’
No reply. But at least he couldn’t smell smoke either, so it seemed that the firework hadn’t started a blaze. And he hadn’t seen any orange flickers through the opaque glass or with the limited vision he’d had through the letterbox.
‘I’m going to break the pane of glass and reach through to open the door,’ Charlie said. ‘Don’t be frightened. Bill’s with me.’
He took off one shoe, shattered the pane with it, then wrapped his hand in one of the teatowels to protect him from the broken glass and reached through to open the lock from the inside.
‘Found them,’ Bill said, at the precise moment Charlie pushed the door open to reveal a couple of burned-out bangers and scorch marks on the carpet.
‘Let’s go in and see to your neighbour.’ Charlie shepherded Liam in before him. ‘She’ll probably have a plastic bag of some sort in her kitchen.’ He hoped. And from the colour of the teatowel Liam was losing blood, which meant there was a good chance he’d go into shock. Charlie needed to get the boy lying flat, with his legs raised, as soon as possible: it would help to prevent shock from blood loss.
He found Mrs Ward slumped in the kitchen, her face white and her hand clutched to her chest.
‘Mrs Ward, can you hear me?’ he asked.
To his relief, Mrs Ward nodded.
‘Mary! Oh, God, is she all right?’ Bill asked.
‘Bill, the best thing you can do to help is find a plastic bag and some ice for those fingertips. And can you get Liam to lie flat on his back with his legs raised? Try and keep pressure on that pad on his hand for me. I don’t want him to lose consciousness.’
‘But…’ Bill gestured helplessly towards Mary.
‘I’ll look after her,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘I can’t see to them both at the time same. I need you to help Liam. Please.’
Bill
