are you getting home?’
‘My father’s coming to pick us up. He should be here by now.’
‘All right. What’s his name?’
‘Ralph Evans. But—’
‘Stay there.’ Tom’s look brooked no argument. ‘I’ll see if I can find him.’
Adrian was clearly still determined not to be parted from his sister, and so Tom was going to have to find a way of examining her without distressing the boy. Because however much Adrian wanted to go home, and however much his sister tried to hide it, she was clearly in pain. And as much as he prided himself on his medical skills, Tom was unable to tell whether her ribs were broken by simply looking at her.
He caught Helen’s eye as she hurried past. ‘Have you got a minute? I want you to have a look at the woman that the boy came in with.’
‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘She’s had a fall. If you could just check her over …’
Helen shook her head. ‘If she’s not urgent then she’ll have to wait. The boy’s father was here a minute ago.’
‘You get on. I’ll find him.’
Helen shot him a smile over her shoulder, and Tom looked around the busy department for some clue as to who the father might be. Maybe red hair, which matched the boy’s …
A middle-aged man turned towards him, following the receptionist’s pointing finger. ‘Dr Riley? I’m here for Adrian Harper, I’m his guardian.’
Tom’s surprise must have shown on his face. In his experience you could often explain a child’s behaviour when you met the parent, but this man, with his relaxed manner and dark, salt-and-pepper hair, bore no resemblance to Adrian at all. Before he could frame the question, the man had reached into his pocket and drawn a card from his wallet to identify himself.
‘Adrian’s your foster son?’
Ralph nodded. ‘Is he all right?’
‘He has a bit of a bump on his head.’ Tom remembered the pamphlets on aftercare that were stacked behind Reception and reached across, selecting the right one and handing it to Ralph. ‘You should keep an eye on him for the next twenty-four hours.’
Ralph chuckled. ‘We always do. Is Cori all right?’
‘His sister?’ Tom realised that he didn’t know her name. Her smile and the extraordinary colour and warmth of her eyes had seemed enough.
‘Yes. When she called she said that Adrian had cannoned into a ladder. I was rather hoping she hadn’t been up it at the time.’
Cori had obviously rationed out the truth, giving little bits of it as and when she’d reckoned necessary. ‘She told me he brushed against the ladder and that she’d fallen. I’d like her to see a doctor, as she’s obviously in pain, but Adrian won’t let go of her.’
Ralph nodded, clearly not fazed by any of this. ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll take Adrian home and make sure that Cori sees someone.’
‘Today.’ Tom peered through to the waiting room, which, if anything, looked even fuller than it had been half an hour ago. ‘If she comes back here, I’ll try and find someone who’ll see her quickly.’
‘Thanks. I know how busy you are, and I appreciate it. She’ll be back as soon as I’ve got Adrian into the car.’
Cori walked back from the hospital car park. Adrian had been mollified by her assertion that she wasn’t coming with them because she was going straight back to her own flat, but Ralph had insisted quietly that she do nothing of the sort. Now she had at least another two-hour wait in front of her before she saw one of the doctors in A and E.
The pain in her shoulder and hip was getting worse, though, and now that she was alone Cori suddenly wanted to cry. She couldn’t be injured, not now. Tomorrow morning she’d be starting an eight-week attachment, here at the hospital, which might lead to getting the permanent post that she really wanted. However hard she’d fallen, she couldn’t afford not to get up and get on with it.
‘Hey, there.’
That sounded suspiciously like Tom’s voice, laced with a hint of the conspiratorial quality of his smile. She looked up, and saw him standing outside the entrance to the A and E department, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked like a dream come true.
‘Come along.’ He took a long swig of the last of his coffee and spun the paper cup into the bin.
She wanted to just go with him, without asking where or why. But that wasn’t going to get her out of there any quicker. ‘I’ve got to go and register at Reception. Get my place in the queue.’
He grinned and Cori hesitated. When he smiled, he was the most perfect man that she had ever seen. Wherever it was that he wanted her to go, it suddenly seemed like a good idea.
‘You’ve just jumped the queue.’
‘But …’ It was tempting. ‘There are people waiting. You should see them first.’
‘I’m off shift, and there’s nothing more for me to do here. And you’ve already waited once.’
Did he have to be quite so persuasive? ‘It’s okay, really. I appreciate it, but you should go home if your shift has finished.’
His brow darkened. ‘You’re not going to kick me, are you?’
She shook her head, silently.
‘Good. In that case, you’d better follow me.’ He turned on his heel, not waiting for the objection that Cori felt duty-bound to make, and led the way back into A and E.
Tom hadn’t given her the chance to protest any further. He’d taken one look at the rapidly forming bruises on Cori’s shoulder and hip, and filled out a form for her to take down to X-Ray. While he was waiting for her, Helen had made the most of the opportunity and passed a couple of minor cases to him, telling him that she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him bored.
When they came through, he reviewed the X-rays carefully, and then went to find Cori. She was sitting on a chair in one of the cubicles, a hospital gown pulled down over her knees, her T-shirt and sweater wrapped in a bundle and hugged against her chest.
‘I wanted to say thank-you, for being so nice with Adrian. And that I’m sorry he kicked you. I hope he didn’t hurt you too much.’ She blurted the words out almost as soon as he drew the curtain across the entrance to the cubicle.
‘It’s okay. I’ve had worse.’ A lot worse. He’d grown up with it, and Tom had learned to just take the blows and move on. To cry later, when he was alone in his bed. He pushed the memory away, wondering why it had chosen that moment to surface. Maybe it had been something to do with the gentle way that Cori had treated Adrian. Tenderness always seemed to awaken an obscure feeling of loss in him.
‘So what were you painting?’ He didn’t want to think about it any more, and Cori seemed nervous. Small talk would hopefully rectify both
