She took the last few squares of chocolate out of a sticky but quiescent little hand, gave him a quick, reassuring squeeze and stood up.
‘I really need to go,’ she said to Luke. ‘I’ll phone Alistair on my way across and he’ll be home with Max in a few minutes. Find a story to read, and don’t give him a hard time about the chocolate.’
‘You think I would?’
‘Sorry. Bossiness gets to be a habit.’
‘Thanks for it, Georgie. You’ve … helped tonight.’
So she left, and Rowdy didn’t seem to mind, and Luke found a Thomas the Tank book, suggested pyjamas, teeth-brushing and toilet, then sat on the uncomfortable edge of the camp stretcher while Rowdy tucked himself under the thin summer sheet and they read about naughty trains.
And it was OK. It was good. They’d made a start. Max arrived in the middle of it and heard a second story. Both boys yawned. Alistair appeared back in the doorway and said, ‘Lights out, I think.’
No protests.
‘Night-night, guys,’ Luke said.
And that was it. His first evening with Frankie Jay, aka Felixx, aka who knew what else, aka Rowdy.
No dramas. Taking it one step at a time.
Pretty good, on the whole.
Until he got woken up at midnight by the commotion coming from Max and Rowdy’s room.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SHE’S asleep,’ Janey heard, in her doorway.
The room was dark, and the patient in the next bed was just a humped shape who didn’t stir. It must be very late. She tried to rouse herself enough to call out that she wasn’t asleep, but the voices had already passed along the corridor. They must have met up with someone else at the far end. She caught snatches of words.
‘Out of nowhere …’
‘What Rowdy ate, but Max seems fine …’
‘Don’t want to set her back, but she’s the closest thing to a parent …’
‘Paediatric bed when we’ve …’
She struggled to sit up and make sense of what she’d heard. She couldn’t, except to realise that it had something to do with her.
And Rowdy.
That name was going to stick.
It had stuck in her heart, because she so much wanted him to be a rowdy, noisy, boisterous kid, just to show that he knew how to. It was so frightening, his silence. She knew something had to be deeply wrong.
Something’s wrong.
And not just because her nephew didn’t speak.
I have to find out.
She pivoted her legs off the edge of the bed. Fortunately one of the side rails was down, because she didn’t think she could have climbed over it. OK, now, drip stand. Handy things, they were. She held herself to it for support and pushed onto her feet, made some shuffling steps towards the electrical socket where it was plugged in, had to untangle the orange cord from around her buzzer and TV control and gather it into the little plastic loop on the stand, so it didn’t trail on the floor.
She’d been out of bed twice that day. The first time she’d progressed all the way to the chair that sat four feet from her bed, then back again. That evening they’d taken out her catheter and she’d managed a bathroom visit.
But she’d had help.
This time she didn’t.
‘They are discharging me tomorrow, come hell or high water, so I’d better be able to do this!’ she muttered. And as she took each tentative step, still clinging to the drip stand, the lightheadedness subsided and she felt steadier.
At the end of the corridor the knot of people still stood, talking. Luke saw her first, and she didn’t take in who the others were. ‘Janey!’ He strode in her direction at once.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You shouldn’t be out of bed.’
‘Is it Rowdy? I heard—’
‘He’s been vomiting. I’ve just brought him in. But you shouldn’t be standing here like this.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Downstairs, in A and E.’
‘What are you thinking is wrong? To bring him in just because he’s vomiting …’
‘Let me grab you a wheelchair.’
‘I don’t need one. I want to get out of here tomorrow, so I’d better be able to walk down a level corridor without dramas! Take me down to A and E and tell me what’s going on.’ She dragged on his arm, aware of its warm, bulky strength, and he relented, leading her towards the lift.
‘Joe Barrett’s with him,’ he said.
‘I haven’t met—But I’ve heard the name.’
‘New Zealand doctor. Christina’s husband. You wouldn’t know her, either. It’s not important right now. Rowdy’s showing some other symptoms, that’s our concern. Restlessness, headache, dizziness, chills, cramps.’
‘Flu,’ she guessed. ‘A gastric bug?’ What else might it be? She tried to think like a doctor, but couldn’t do it right now when it was this little boy, almost her own. ‘He’s having such a horrible, horrible, time. Has anyone else—?’
‘No, that’s the thing. It’s just him.’
They went down in the lift. She caught sight of a clock on the ground floor. One in the morning, no wonder she felt disoriented. If I let it show, they won’t let me out of here tomorrow. They’ll keep treating me like a patient, and I need to be the healthy one, for Rowdy.
‘What are you thinking, Luke? You’re not telling me.’
They reached the heavy swing doors that must lead into the A and E department and he stopped, faced her and stood close. ‘We found him eating some chocolate this evening. Georgie had several bars with her when she and Alistair found Rowdy and Max down the mineshaft, and she gave it to them for emergency rations. The boys ate half of it, but Rowdy hid the rest, and we didn’t know. The wrapper was sodden and filthy, and the chocolate itself was covered in clay and grit.’
‘I don’t think he’s ever eaten chocolate in his life. Alice was too strict about food. Way too strict.’
‘Well, he’s making up for it now. He was like a stray dog when we found him in his room, Janey.’ His voice cracked suddenly, and he’d made a vivid, disturbing image in Janey’s mind. ‘Wolfing down this filthy stuff as fast as he could get it into his mouth, grit and wet wrapping and all.’
‘Upset stomach …’ She felt a little better. A bit of damp, dirty chocolate. He’d be fine. Miserable for half a day, but soon fine.
‘No, that’s not what we think,’ Luke said. ‘Those old mineshafts are a mess of half-dug holes and piles of tailings. They processed some of the gold on the spot. The soil’s contaminated. We think it could be arsenic poisoning.’
Janey’s knees buckled and Luke had to catch her before she fell. He felt the ridge of plastic from her IV line against the inside of his arm, the tied tapes at the back of her gown, and then the gap—those gowns never met properly behind—the warm gap and the smooth skin of her back. He rested his jaw against the top of her head. Her hair was silky and dark and fragrant, even after several days in hospital.
‘We’ve taken a urine sample for testing,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile, we’re going to treat it as confirmed. Gastric lavage, saline cathartic. If we get a positive result on the urine—they’re pushing the testing on that through as fast as they can—we’ll start dimercaprol for two days then penicillamine, as well as treatment for dehydration and pulmonary oedema and anything else we need to.’
‘Haemodyalisis,’ she said.
‘Hopefully not, because we’re not equipped for that here. He’d have to go south. I’m sure it won’t be that severe. It won’t be. It won’t. This is acute, not chronic, and it developed fast and clear-cut because he’s so small and we’ll get it out of his system just as quickly.’
The words were a prayer, a threat and a promise all in one, and they both knew it. She held him more tightly, burrowed her forehead against his shoulder, and he felt her warm breath and the vibration of her muffled voice against his shirt. ‘This is not fair. This is just not, not, not fair! He’s been through so much alread
y, Luke! I can’t bear it. And I don’t know if I’m … enough. You know? Enough for him. When he’s lost his world.’
She began to cry, shuddering sobs that shook her body all the harder because she tried to swallow them back and make them stop. Luke knew why. She wanted to be strong, and to prove to everyone that she was strong so they’d let her take care of Rowdy, instead of being stuck away in a hospital room of her own.
She somehow thought it was still just the two of them—she and Rowdy. She didn’t trust or realise how much of a commitment Luke had made in his own heart. She still thought he was giving a performance.
He couldn’t spare the energy to be angry about it now.
‘He has two of us,’ he said instead, speaking as plainly as he could, hearing the frequent catches in his own voice. ‘Never forget that. Never doubt it. I am here. I love him. I will do what it takes. Anything it takes. Every single day. I am his father. And I’m not going away.’
They were the words—some of them—that he’d wanted to say to Rowdy himself the previous afternoon, but hadn’t been able to. And suddenly it was immensely healing and good and important to be saying them to Janey instead, because if they shared nothing else, the two of them, they shared a commitment to putting this child first.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. No, searched him, his whole face, in quest of truth. He met her gaze full on, knowing she wouldn’t be able to find even a trace of insincerity or hyped-up promises. He’d meant every word.
Finally, after what must have been almost a full minute, she gave a tiny nod, pushed back from his chest, then turned to the button on the wall that opened the swing doors. ‘I want to see him.’
He was as white as a ghost, his breathing seemed shallow, and he’d just finished throwing up into a pale green plastic kidney dish. His nurse whisked it away, then came back to note the volume on his chart. His restless limbs twitched against the sheets, which were already untidy.
‘Frankie Jay …’ Janey whispered. ‘Rowdy, love …’
The nurse—an older woman, Luke didn’t know her that well—was getting ready to put in an IV. ‘I’ll do it,’ he told her, then wondered if that was a mistake. This was his son. Nobody liked to treat a patient they were this close to.
But he did it anyway, concentrating fiercely on the little hand, finding a vein with his fingertip, sliding the needle in. The vein snaked away from the needle point and he had to try again. Rowdy must already be dehydrated, because his veins shouldn’t be this flat. He’d barely winced at the pain, brave little lad, but Luke knew it must have hurt.
And would hurt again, with his second attempt.
This time, thank goodness, he found the vein and taped the cannula in place, attached the tubing, set the flow rate, told the nurse what drugs needed to go in, and wrote it all down.
Sitting in the chair beside Rowdy’s bed and holding his free hand, Janey watched every move Luke made. ‘How are you feeling, sweetheart?’ she whispered. ‘Please talk to us and tell us. No? You need to stay quiet? That’s fine … That’s fine …’
What else could she say?
Time passed, the way it did in hospitals. Uncomfortable and quiet and slow. She must have dozed for a while. Some movement beside Rowdy’s bed awakened her, but Luke seemed to have gone. Instead, there was a man she didn’t know, holding out his big hand for a shake and telling her, ‘I’m Dr Barrett. But make it Joe, won’t you? We have the result of Rowdy’s urine test.’
‘And …?’
‘Confirmed.’ He didn’t use the word ‘poison’ and Janey was grateful. Rowdy looked as if he was sleeping, but you could never tell, and he was scared and lost enough already. ‘Poison’ was a frightening enough word for an adult to hear, let alone a child. ‘We’ll keep testing to watch for a drop in the level.’
‘So you’re going to start …?’
‘Dimercaprol and penicillamine.’ He was working as he spoke, noting down the new treatment, preparing the drugs.
‘Where’s Luke?’
‘Getting you a wheelchair.’
‘I don’t need one. I’m staying here.’
‘Wrong,’ said Luke himself from the doorway, wheelchair in tow.
‘I—’
‘Unh-unh-unh!’ He came forward and touched the tips of his fingers to her mouth in a warning. ‘Do I have to tell you that you won’t be discharged tomorrow—actually, it’s today—if you’re looking like a wreck in the morning? He’s sleeping now. And he needs you to be fit when he’s discharged. I am taking you back to your room, Janey, where you will sleep until you wake up on your own—no six o’clock hospital breakfast—and about midmorning, or maybe noon, a whole clutch of doctors will check you out and pronounce yes or no. What do you want it to be?’
‘I want yes.’
‘Thought so. Need help getting into this wheelchair?’
‘No!’
Why had he asked? He ignored her answer, bent down and raised the wheelchair footrests, lifted her to her feet, pivoted her round and held her elbow while she lowered herself. She wanted to say good night to Rowdy, kiss him and tell him she’d see him as soon as she could, but Luke was right. He was sleeping, and it was best to leave him undisturbed.
As they wheeled their way toward the lift, she knew she was leaving half her heart behind in the paediatric section of A and E, where they were keeping him because so much of the hospital was in chaos. With some wards storm-damaged and out of action, and patients moved to wherever they would fit, the paediatric ward didn’t have a spare bed.
Luke stayed with his son all night, watching every setback and every turn for the better. Rowdy was passing urine through the catheter the nurse had put in, which was good because lack of urine output could indicate that the arsenic poisoning was more severe. The fluid kept going in nicely, along with the dimercaprol, which would bond chemically to the arsenic and neutralise its effects.
The purging brought on by the emetics Rowdy had been given should get the undigested arsenic out of his system so that the level didn’t increase. They’d test his urine again in a few hours.
Meanwhile, there wasn’t a lot do except sit and watch, but somehow the weary passage of early morning hours seemed so precious and important. Making up for lost time. Healing all those terrible months and years of not knowing where his child was, of feeling Alice’s disappearance with their baby like a punch in the face.
He still didn’t fully understand what had gone wrong, how they could have gone from giddy, effervescent happiness—shallow-rooted happiness, he’d come to think—to so much fighting and distance in so short a time, less than three years between when they’d first met and when Alice had walked out.
Most couples did find that their relationship changed after the birth of a child. Was that where it had started? He remembered the day she’d come home from her new mothers’ group when Frankie Jay had been six weeks old, full of some terrible secondhand story she’d heard about infant inoculations gone wrong. ‘We’re not having him immunised, Luke. I won’t take that risk.’
‘So you’ll take the risk that he dies of diphtheria or whooping cough instead? Do you have any idea what the infant mortality rate used to be before those vaccinations were started?’
‘That’s right, Luke, hide behind the sterile façade of Western medicine straight away, without even hearing the facts!’
‘The facts? Have you actually looked at the facts?’
They’d had a huge fight.
But he knew that this had been the end rather than the beginning of the trouble.
He couldn’t pinpoint the steps on the journey after all this time, but he’d learned that nothing could be quite as sour as dried-up chemistry, especially when you discovered that there was no respect or appreciation or shared understanding lying beneath it.
He would have kept trying, but maybe Alice had been the one to see things more clearly at that point. The marriage couldn’t have been saved, and she’d known it sooner than he ha
d.
His thoughts swung back to the present, and he realised with a wash of horror that Rowdy probably still hadn’t had his immunisations. Look at his skin, all cut up and scratched. How could Alice have done it? How could she have taken him out there into the wilderness with no tetanus shots? He’d get one as soon as it was safe, and the other shots he needed, as soon as this first crisis was safely over.
First crisis?
Fourth. Fifth. Luke had lost count.
Alice’s death, the bus crash, the cyclone …
His little miracle, that’s who this precious child was.
My miracle boy.
Emotion overwhelmed him suddenly, and there in the dark, quiet hospital, he just sat there and let the tears come.
When Janey woke up, it was eleven in the morning, and she found Luke standing at the end of the bed. The sound of him coming into the room had stirred her out of sleep.
‘How is he?’ Her voice croaked.
‘He’s turned the corner.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful. That’s so good.’
‘The arsenic level in his urine is down already, no more vomiting, he’s nicely hydrated now, good clear chest. I think he’ll be out of here tomorrow.’
Don’t cry, Janey.
‘One thing I wanted to ask, though. Did you find any immunisation records among his and Alice’s things?’
‘No. And I don’t think they’d exist. She didn’t believe in it. I tried to argue the case, but—’
‘You too, huh?’
‘I probably didn’t argue hard enough.’
Their eyes met, and for a moment Alice’s ghost stood between them, relishing all these lovely swirls of high emotion in the atmosphere.
‘I couldn’t deal with her, Luke,’ Janey confessed in a rush. ‘She exhausted me. I can’t live on that level. Everything so passionate, and black and white. She was one of those people who just can’t do life’s small moments. It’s all got to be huge. Even the way the two of you fell in love.’
The Australian's Desire (Mills & Boon By Request) Page 22