A Wife and Child to Cherish (Audley Memorial Hospital)

by Caroline Anderson

‘Nothing much. Just to say hello, really. Can you get Sue onto that urine, though? I don’t like the colour of it. He might have an infection. What were you going to talk to his mother about?’

  ‘Oh, she says the other members of the family think she’s being silly, talking to him.’

  His jaw jumped, the muscle working. ‘She probably is, but it won’t stop her doing it, and it shouldn’t. Without absolute certainty, to do anything else would be unspeakably cruel and thoughtless. If he’s in there, utterly isolated and alone, and nobody talks to him, tells him what’s going on, if people do things to him without explaining or talk about him in terms that could terrify him—that’s just not on.’

  She touched his arm, sensing where he was coming from and cutting him off before he could say anything more personal. ‘Mr Corrigan, I think Mrs Taylor would like a chat.’ He turned and saw her standing right beside him. She was hanging on his every word, and he smiled a little awkwardly. Annie could almost hear him backtracking over what he’d said. ‘Sorry. Bit of a hobby-horse of mine. What can I do for you, Mrs Taylor?’

  ‘You can be honest. Tell me if you think he’ll ever walk again—or talk, or look me in the eye as if he’s seeing me. Tell me I’ll hear him speak, and that it’ll make sense, and that he won’t be like this for ever... ’

  Patrick closed his eyes briefly, and then took Mrs Taylor by the arm and ushered her very gently towards the office. ‘Come on,’ he said softly. Annie followed, hesitating at the doorway, and he beckoned her in and sat Mrs Taylor down, positioning himself opposite her and taking her hands in his. ‘Mrs Taylor, I can’t tell you those things. I don’t know the answers. It’s the neurologist you need to talk to, and he can’t' answer them yet either. All I can do is mend his bones so that if and when he’s ready to walk again, he’s able to. And we can keep him pain-free and comfortable, and make sure he’s getting sufficient nutrition and the right sort of care... Beyond that, it’s just time.’

  She nodded, then frowned a little in thought. ‘It’s just—it sounded when you were talking as if you were a bit of an expert in this sort of thing.’

  Annie saw Patrick’s mouth tighten fractionally, then he nodded. ‘I’ve had experience of it over a long period of time. And I think what you’re doing is exactly right. It’s what I would do. Read to him, talk to him and tell him what’s going on, encourage the other family members to do the same and to talk to each other. You don’t have to talk to him, just don’t talk about him. Include him when you can. Imagine he’s just sitting in the room with you and you’re all having a conversation. Say nothing you wouldn’t say under those circumstances, and you won’t go wrong. And just love him.’

  She nodded. ‘Oh, I’ll do that. I’m his mother. I can’t help it.’ She broke off, shaking her head, and then stood up and left the room, going back to her son with all the love and grit and determination she could muster.

  Patrick followed her with his eyes, and when he turned towards Annie they were filled with pain. ‘Poor woman. I don’t envy her. I had the same from so many people—why do you visit her every day when she doesn’t know you, why do you bother to talk to her, why don’t you divorce her?’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  He looked stunned. ‘Because we were married. Because I loved her, and because as long as she was alive, she was my wife. In sickness and in health, Annie. That’s what I promised her, and that’s what she got. Whatever else, I have a clean conscience and a peaceful heart.’

  And with that he went out and closed the door softly behind him.

  Damn. It was getting to him. He’d known the moment he’d set eyes on Daniel that this case was going to be a hard one for him to deal with.

  He’d meant what he’d said to Annie, but that didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the emotional roller-coaster he’d been on in those first few months. And the clean conscience and peaceful heart didn’t extend as far as the loss of his baby. Playing with little Amy Maguire the other night had brought the loss home to him all over again, and he wondered if there would ever now be a time when he could see a child without wondering if there was anything he could have done that would have kept their baby alive.

  Lord, he was getting maudlin, and it was crazy. He had too much to do—post-ops to see, correspondence to attend to, and somewhere in his office his secretary was buried under a pile of paperwork.

  But he’d seen his post-ops, all except Jamie, and he was asleep. Paperwork, then.

  ‘Fancy a teabreak?’

  ‘Here?’

  Annie shook her head and smiled up at him with understanding. ‘I thought we could go down to the canteen at the back and sit on one of the sofas and chill for a minute. I haven’t got long, but it would be nice to get off the ward.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ he said, and shook off his melancholy. A few quiet minutes with Annie would be wonderful. Just what the doctor ordered.

  * * *

  Annie was worried about Alfie.

  He wasn’t looking too good, and the nights were getting colder, the weather wetter, and there was a bluish tinge to his skin that she didn’t like the look of. If he was developing a heart condition, he really needed to see a doctor, but she knew for a fact he wouldn’t go.

  So as soon as she’d finished work she went home and changed, made a flask of tea then went to the charity shop in the little arcade and bought a nice thick jumper and a heavy padded raincoat for him. She even found some woollen walking socks that would keep his feet a little warmer.

  ‘God bless your little heart,’ he said, his eyes filling. ‘You’re the only one who’s kind to me. Nobody else even gives me the time of day.’'

  Which was a lie, she knew, because she’d seen people chatting to him in the past, but she didn’t tell him that. She patted Scruff, registering that he needed a bath nearly as badly as Alfie did.

  ‘Have you eaten today?’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t feel like eating.’

  ‘You must. How about a hot drink? I’ve brought a flask.’

  He nodded. ‘I’d love a cuppa. You’re an angel, Annie. Like my missus used to be.’

  She poured out the tea into his old tin mug and watched him drink it, then topped it up again and went into the shop, coming out with a pasty and an apple for him and a tin of dog food for Scruff. He started to thank her, but went into a spasm of coughing that made her frown. His breathing was really dreadful. ‘I wish you’d go to the doctor, Alfie,’ she pleaded.

  ‘No. They’ll just send me up the hospital and what about the dog? I’m all right, girl. I’m used to it. Tough as old boots, me. Little drop of whisky’ll soon see me right.’

  There was nothing more she could do for him, so she picked up Katie from Lynn and went home, to find Patrick on the doorstep. Literally, with a huge pizza box in one hand and a bottle in the other.

  He straightened up and grinned. ‘You’re late. I was getting worried that I’d have to eat it all myself.’

  She eyed the food longingly, her nose checking the air and finding the tempting smell of melted cheese. ‘Sorry. I was sorting Alfie out. Come in. Is that for us all or are you just teasing?’

  He chuckled and followed them in, going into the kitchen and unwrapping the pizza. ‘Katie?’

  ‘Yum! Mummy, look! It’s huge!'

  It was huge. Huge and delicious, and Annie’s tummy rumbled.

  ‘Shall we picnic in the sitting room?’ she suggested. Katie whooped and ran in there, and was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the time they arrived.

  ‘Glass of wine?’

  She sent him a grateful smile. ‘That would be lovely. I’ll find the glasses.’

  ‘No. Help Katie with the pizza. I’ll find them.’

  And he was gone, returning with two glasses and the bottle. ‘Katie, what about you? Can I get you water or juice or something?’

  ‘Juice?’

  ‘There’s a bit in the fridge left from Saturday,’ Annie said, and Patrick returned with it a momen
t later, sat down on the floor next to Katie and piled into the pizza as if he was starving.

  ‘Oh, that’s good. I couldn’t be bothered to cook and I was sure you wouldn’t want to.’

  ‘No. I’m exhausted. It’s been one of those days.’ She cocked her head on one side. ‘You look better this week after the rugby. Are you finding it easier?’

  He nodded, his mouth too full to reply. ‘Much,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ve been running whenever I can. Living in town makes it easy—you can go round the streets at night or early in the morning.’

  ‘Meg used to run every morning. I don’t think she does now, with one and a half babies.’

  ‘How can you have half a baby?’ Katie asked, puzzled.

  ‘It’s still cooking,’ she explained, and Katie grinned.

  ‘That’s silly. Babies don’t cook. They grow inside you.’ She peeled off another slice of pizza and added wistfully, ‘I wish you could have another baby. I’d like a brother or sister.’

  Annie froze. It was the first time Katie had ever mentioned such a wish, and it hit her like a bolt from the blue.

  ‘People are normally married when they have babies,’ she tried, but Katie had other ideas.

  ‘Jade’s mum isn’t, and she’s had three. And Suzie’s mum isn’t, nor Jason’s.’

  ‘I think I’ve got enough to do at the moment without another baby,’ she said firmly, and closed the subject.

  Fast.

  It was nearly nine, and Annie was fast asleep.

  Annie had put Katie to bed and read her a story, then Katie had asked if Patrick could read some, too. And by the time he’d come down, Annie had curled up at one end of the sofa and dropped off.

  He stood watching her for a moment, then shook his head slowly and went into the dining room. He didn’t like doing this—didn’t like it at all—but it was for her sake and in her interest.

  He opened the bureau drawer where he’d seen she kept the plans, and took the folder out, removing the two sheets that showed him what he needed to know before putting it back. Then he folded the sheets carefully and slid them into his back pocket, wrote her a note and left it propped up on the coffee-table, telling her he’d nipped out to the shop for milk. He let himself out of the back door, taking the key with him.

  He ran home and put the sheets through his fax/scanner/copier thingy, then ran to the shop, bought a bottle of milk and ran back to Annie’s house, grateful for his new training regime that meant he wasn’t even out of breath. He let himself back in, and found her still fast asleep where he’d left her.

  Good. He slipped the sheets back into the folder, smoothed them flat and closed the drawer, then went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

  Hurdle one over. Now there was just the simple matter of planning it, getting all the people and materials lined up and getting access to the house.

  Simple!

  CHAPTER NINE

  Events played into Patrick’s hands.

  The Thursday meeting went very well. Fliss arrived first, and he took her around his house and showed her the alterations that had been done and how they related to Annie’s plans, and then asked the critical question.

  ‘Is it a load-bearing wall? I don’t think it is, but I don’t want to knock it down without knowing.’

  ‘I need to see the floorboards upstairs,’ she said, and so they went up and prised up the corner of the fitted carpet and peeled it back a few inches. ‘Well, that answers that. The boards are at right angles to the wall, so the joists run in the same direction, which means they don’t bear on the wall, and this wall’s a stud wall,’ she said, tapping it. ‘And it’s not directly over the other one, so this upstairs wall must rest on a beam or double joist in the floor.’

  ‘Which means?’

  She grinned. ‘We can take out the wall. Goody. I love a bit of demolition!’

  They put the carpet back, went down and opened a bottle of wine, just as Sally and Ben arrived, followed by the pizzas. It was obviously the week for pizza, he thought, welcoming them all in and settling down to plan their campaign.

  ‘Right,’ Fliss said, taking over as project manager by common consent. ‘Thursday night we get the wall down, the kitchen door and back door out and both blocked up. Then on Friday morning first thing I get the walls skimmed and you can start decorating the other bits and putting the units in place.

  ‘By the end of Saturday it should be all in place, the worktops can then go on and the sink in on Sunday. Monday will just be finishing off—doors on the units, tiling, trim and so on.’

  It sounded so easy.

  ‘So how do we get in?’ Ben asked. ‘Have you got a key, any of you?’

  They looked at Sally, then at him, and they both shook their heads.

  ‘The back door’s shot. We could just kick it in,’ Patrick offered.

  ‘And then when I block the door up we’ll be trapped inside,’ Fliss pointed out.

  ‘Well, it’s one way of making sure we can’t go until we’ve finished,’ Tom said with a laugh.

  ‘I’m sure I can get a key somehow.’ After all, he’d got the plans that they were all poring over. The key shouldn’t be a lot harder.

  ‘Didn’t they press keys into soap or something in the old movies and then make a copy?’ Ben said unhelpfully. ‘You could try that!’

  ‘Or not. Leave it to me. I’ll think of something. If necessary I’ll have an invented electrical failure and have to stay there.’

  But it wasn’t necessary, because on the following Tuesday night Alfie was beaten up and taken to hospital. Patrick was on call and he was in A and E when the old man was admitted.

  ‘Alfie, what’s happened?’ he said, taking his trembling hand.

  ‘Mugged,’ he mumbled. His jaw was obviously broken, and he was difficult to understand, but he grabbed Patrick by the arm and pulled him down, his eyes wild with worry. ‘Scruff,’ he said. ‘Find—got kicked. Shops.’

  ‘I’ll find him,’ Patrick promised. ‘Don’t worry, Alfie, we’ll look after him. Now, let’s get these clothes cut off you and see what’s going on.’

  ‘No. Don’t cut. Annie bought jumper.’

  ‘I’ll buy you another one,’ he promised, and they removed his clothes layer by layer. The smell was enough to make them gag, but they bagged the clothes and cleaned him up while they were waiting for X-Ray, then he was wheeled in and they sprayed the cubicles.

  While he waited for the results, he phoned Annie. ‘I don’t want to worry you but Alfie’s been beaten up and he says Scruff was kicked.’

  ‘Oh, no! Patrick, he adores that dog! Is he all right?’

  ‘Alfie or the dog?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Well, Alfie’s pretty rough and worried to death. I’m going to admit him once we’ve got the X-rays—he’s obviously got a fractured clavicle, several fractured ribs and his jaw needs plating, but there may be other things that come to light and there’s no way he can be glued together and sent back out onto the streets any time soon. As soon as I can get away I’m going out to look for the dog. The thing is, I don’t know if he’ll come to me. Is there any way you and Katie could give me a hand to find him? If Katie’s in my car, she’ll be warm and safe while we look for Scruff.’

  ‘Sure. Of course. Ring me when you leave and I’ll get Katie up. I’ll see you shortly.’

  It took them an hour to find Scruff, and then it was only because Annie thought she heard a whimper at the back of the rubbish bins behind the garage, and crawled on her hands and knees into a tiny gap.

  ‘Hello, Scruff!’ she said softly. The dog crept forwards and licked her hand, and she felt a surge of relief, tempered by a little healthy caution. If the dog was injured, it might go for her, and she wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of there before she was attacked. But she had no choice. ‘Come on, boy,’ she said encouragingly, and coaxed him out, hoping he’d heard that old adage about not biting the hand that fed you.

  There was no attack. She
squirmed out backwards, the dog following her on three legs, the other one hanging at an ominous angle. Even though he was shaking all over, his thin, stringy tail was still wagging.

  ‘Poor old boy,’ Patrick said, hunkering down beside him and offering him his hand. ‘What’s happened to you, little one, eh? Did those nasty boys kick you?’

  ‘He’ll need the vet,’ Annie said, agonised. A tear trickled down her cheek and she scrubbed it impatiently away. ‘Alfie’ll be lost without him.’

  ‘Why will he be without him?’

  ‘Because he’ll have to be put down,’ she said, voicing the brutal truth. ‘A break like that will cost a fortune. I can’t possibly pay, nor can Alfie.’

  ‘But I can.’

  She stared at him in amazement. ‘Why would you do that?’ He shrugged and shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘I don’t know. Because he’s a nice old dog and he didn’t ask for this? Because I can’t bear to see you cry, or face Katie if I turn my back on Scruff and the vet puts him down? Don’t worry about it. Just tell me where there’s a vet.’

  Where had he come from? He had such a generous heart. What had she done to deserve him? ‘Just down the road from here. You’ll have to ring.’

  So they drove to the surgery with Scruff placed carefully on the back seat beside Annie, and Katie in the front for safety in case he should bite. When they arrived the lights were on, so they rang the bell.

  The vet came to the door and explained that she was there dealing with another emergency, so they went in and sat and waited, and then she examined Scruff gently but thoroughly.

  ‘He’s very thin,’ she said cautiously, and Patrick explained the situation.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,’ he said, and the vet looked at him reprovingly.

  ‘I wasn’t even thinking about that. We give animals emergency treatment when the owners can’t afford it, it’s part of our policy. I was more concerned for the dog, but he seems a lovely old boy.’

  ‘He is,’ Annie said, putting her arm round Katie and giving her a reassuring little hug.

  The vet looped her stethoscope round her neck and straightened up. ‘Well, he’s obviously got a fracture. It’ll need pinning, but I don’t think he’s got anything else wrong with him apart from a few bruises. His ribs are fine and his lungs sound clear, his heartbeat’s a little fast but that’s probably just stress and pain. Leave him with me and we’ll make him comfortable and fix it in the morning. I’ll give you a ring when you can collect him.’