‘I’m sorry to call you out,’ Emma said as she led him through to the bedroom, ‘but I really am worried. My daughter’s temperature won’t go down and she’s complaining of a bad headache.’
‘Humph,’ was his only comment as he bent to examine her. After he had returned his stethoscope and thermometer to his bag, he asked, ‘How long has she been like this?’
‘Since this morning.’
‘Why didn’t you call me earlier?’
Emma bit back the words that sprang to her lips. ‘When I rang the surgery you had already left on your rounds.’ Alerted by the doctor’s concerned expression her voice rose. ‘What is it? What’s wrong with her?’
He pursed his lips. ‘I’ve ruled out measles but I’m not happy with her symptoms. I think she should be admitted to hospital for further investigation.’
‘Hospital?’
‘Yes, and as soon as possible. I’ll use your telephone to ring for an ambulance.’
‘Oh, no! Do you think it’s something serious?’
‘I can’t be sure, but I suspect meningitis.’
Emma felt her knees almost give way, but she managed to stay on her feet. She showed the
doctor where the telephone was, praying that he was wrong. It couldn’t be meningitis, it just couldn’t. She’d never forgive herself if it was!
The wait for the ambulance seemed interminable. Doris appeared just as it arrived. ‘We’ll close down. I’ll come with you,’ she cried as Emma climbed in with her daughter.
The doors swung shut, cutting off Emma’s reply and then they sped off, all Emma’s focus now on Tinker.
Emma unconsciously wrung her hands. She felt so helpless, useless…Tears filled her eyes.
Please, please, let her be all right
–the chant filled her mind as they drove to hospital.
Tinker was wheeled into casualty at speed, Emma almost running alongside the trolley.
They were put into a cubicle and Emma stood by the bed, frantic to see that Tinker was barely conscious now. In seconds a doctor arrived.
Tinker groaned as he examined her, and then he turned to question Emma. ‘Has she complained of a stiff neck?’
‘No.’
‘When did you first notice that she’s sensitive to light?’
‘I…I didn’t notice.’
Tinker suddenly heaved, and Emma spun away from the doctor just in time to see a nurse
supporting her daughter’s head as she was sick into a metal dish.
‘Until we carry out further tests, I’m afraid your daughter will have to be put in isolation, Mrs Bell.’
‘Isolation! But why?’
‘There are two strains of meningitis, viral and bacterial. Viral meningitis is contagious and therefore caution is necessary until we get the test results.’
‘Can I stay with her?’ Emma begged.
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘Oh God!’
He turned, brusquely ordering the nurse to arrange for Tinker to be taken to the ICU isolation area. When he had gone, Emma stood frozen for a moment, unable to command coherent thought. ‘You might as well go home, Mrs Bell,’ the nurse advised.
‘Home! No…I can’t leave her.’
‘She’ll be in good hands.’
‘Can I at least wait until she’s settled?’
‘If you go up to ICU, you can wait there, but you’ll only be able to see her through a glass partition.’
‘But I’m her mother.’
‘I’m sorry, but as the doctor told you, viral meningitis is highly contagious.’
‘But it might not be viral.’
‘I know, and if it isn’t, you’ll have your daughter home again in a few days.’
Emma tried to hold on to this as Tinker was wheeled away, and though she hurried to ICU, it was half an hour later before she was led to a small window. As she looked through the glass, tears blurred her eyes. She wanted to be in there with Tinker, to hold her, comfort her. Oh God, why hadn’t she called the doctor earlier? Curtains were pulled across the glass, obscuring her view.
A nurse came to her side. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Bell, but your daughter is having tests so you should leave now.’
‘No…no…I can’t leave!’
‘There’s nothing you can do. After the tests Patricia will be settled for the night and you’ll be able to see her again in the morning.’
‘She…she likes to be called Tinker.’
The nurse smiled. ‘Oh, isn’t that a pretty name?’
Emma felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and swung round. ‘Oh, Terry,’ she cried, falling into his arms. Tinker couldn’t leave her; she just couldn’t.
In the back seat of the car, Emma was barely aware of the drive home. Doris held her hand, all three of them silent with shock. As they turned into the drive Emma saw a man hovering by the steps. As soon as they stopped, Terry was the first out of the car. He spoke to the man and then, shaking his head with what looked like annoyance, the
man walked away. Terry returned to open the car door, and as Emma climbed out he solicitously held her arm.
‘Who…who was that?’ she asked.
‘It was just a punter. Now come on, let’s get you inside.’
‘He won’t be the only one to turn up this evening. I…I’ll be all right. You and Doris can open for business.’
‘What?’
Terry looked astounded, but Emma ignored it. She wanted to be alone, to scream out her anguish, to release the emotions she was barely holding in check. ‘You heard me,’ she managed to grind out through clenched teeth. Then, shrugging off Terry’s hand, she fumbled for her keys, opened the door and dashed inside, slamming it behind her.
It was Tinker’s bed she headed for and, alone at last, she flung herself across it, hugging her daughter’s pillow as tears flowed.
Oh, please don’t let her die–please, please, God
.
Once she had started crying, Emma was unable to stop, and it was some time later when she felt the bed dip beside her. She looked up, her face awash with tears, expecting to see Doris, but it was Terry.
‘Come on, come here,’ he urged and, pulling her into his arms, he held her close.
Emma clung to Terry, wanting to draw strength from him, to drown out her fears, to forget everything for a while. Her head was on his chest, his fingers stroking her hair, but then there was a subtle change as Terry began to move his hands over her.
She found herself responding, finding comfort in his touch, and raised her face. Terry’s lips dipped to meet hers, his kiss arousing feelings unfelt before. She groaned softly, losing herself in the moment, and then they were laying together, Terry gently removing her clothes.
His tongue moved down her body, and as he reached that special place, her back arched. ‘Ohhh,’ she gasped, unable to believe the waves of pleasure that rippled through her body. ‘Oh, please…’ she groaned, and as Terry at last entered her, she welcomed him.
Emma came to her senses only when it was over, appalled by what had happened. She had let Terry make love to her and, refusing to accept that she’d enjoyed it, flung herself off the bed. ‘How…how could you? Get out! Get out now!’
Terry looked puzzled, a frown creasing his brow. ‘What’s wrong, Emma?’
‘Wrong! You dare to ask me what’s wrong? I was in an awful state and…and you took advantage of that–of me.’
‘No, it wasn’t like that,’ Terry protested. ‘I came down to see if you were all right and found you in an awful state. I was only trying to comfort you, that’s all.’
‘Sex! You call sex comforting me?’
‘Well, no, but it just sort of happened.’
Emma’s eyes blazed with anger. Underlying this was self-disgust. How could she? How could she do something so disgusting whilst Tinker was ill, dangerously ill?
‘I told you to get out, Terry, and I meant it. I never want to see you again. You’re…you’re fired!’
His expression changed, hardened. ‘Right, that suits me, but just for the record, you enjoyed it as much as I did.’
‘I did not!’ Emma screamed.
Terry was flinging on his clothes, and suddenly, realising she was naked, Emma snatched a blanket from the bed, holding it up in front of her. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say another word as he marched from the room, and Emma didn’t move until she heard the street door closing behind him.
She then hurriedly dressed, her mind sickened. Despite his protests she knew that Terry
had
taken advantage of her. If she hadn’t been upset, hadn’t been out of her mind with worry, she would never have allowed it to happen.
You could have said no
, a small voice whispered at the back of her mind,
but Emma quickly dismissed it. Terry had just confirmed everything she had ever thought about men. They were all the same–all just wanting one thing!
‘Where’s Terry? He’s needed upstairs.’ Doris said when she came downstairs half an hour later.
‘He’s gone.’
‘Gone! What do you mean?’
‘I fired him.’
‘Again? But why?’
‘That’s my business,’ Emma snapped.
‘Leave it out, Emma. I know Terry and can’t think of any reason to sack him.’
Her emotions were all over the place and this was the last straw for Emma. She rose to her feet, glaring at Doris. ‘I had good reason, and if you’re not careful, you won’t be far behind him.’
She expected Doris to react with anger too, but instead she walked to her side, saying softly, ‘Come on, Emma, sit down. I don’t know what brought this on, but I suspect it’s worry over Tinker.’
Emma slumped, tears filling her eyes again as she blurted out, ‘Oh, Doris, if it’s viral meningitis she could die!’
‘Don’t say that, Em. It might not be, and you should hold on to that.’
‘But you saw her. You saw how awful she looks.
It’s my fault, Doris. I should have listened to Terry. I should have called the doctor earlier!’
‘Emma, stop blaming yourself! You couldn’t have known that it was meningitis, and, let’s face it, she’s had a fever before. Now come on, tell me why you sacked Terry.’
‘I…I can’t.’
‘If you ask him to, he’ll come back.’
‘No! I never want to see him again.’
Doris shook her head, then said worriedly, ‘Look, I’d best get back. One of the punters is being a bit funny and I can’t leave the girls on their own. We’ll talk about this later.’
Emma didn’t reply. Doris could talk all she liked, but she wasn’t going to change her mind.
She sat wringing her hands, but only five minutes later jumped to her feet to ring the hospital. The wait seemed interminable, but at last she was put through to ICU, the ward sister telling her that Tinker had settled down well for the night and they were awaiting the test results.
Desolately, Emma replaced the receiver and then returned to the drawing room, wishing the hours away–wishing for the morning so she could return to the hospital, wishing only to be near her daughter.
It was a fraught few days, Emma almost going out of her mind with worry. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and though not allowed into the room, spent many hours looking through the window at Tinker, willing her to get better.
Doris stayed by her side, handing over much of the running of the business to Rose, one of the girls who had been with them from the start.
When at last her daughter was diagnosed, Emma almost collapsed with relief. Tinker had bacterial meningitis, not viral and, smiling, the doctor told her that she could take her home at the end of the week. She’d been allowed in to see Tinker, the child clinging to her like a limpet, her fever down and her grip strong around Emma’s neck.
‘I saw you through the glass, Mummy,’ she said, ‘but the nurse said you couldn’t come in.’
‘I’m here now, darling,’ Emma said, almost
choking on her emotions. If anything had happened to Tinker, her life would have been meaningless. The thought of being without her child was unbearable.
‘Well, Patricia,’ the nurse said, ‘I’m sure you’re pleased to hear you’ll be going home soon, but in the meantime, we’re taking you to a ward where there’ll be other children for company.’
Automatically, Emma said, ‘Tinker. She likes to be called Tinker.’
‘No, Mummy, I’m not a baby now and I want to be called Patricia or Pat.’
Emma gazed at her daughter, seeing a subtle change. She was only eleven years old, yet there was a maturity in her eyes that she hadn’t seen before.
‘All right, darling, but it’s going to be hard to remember at first.’
‘Where’s Terry?’
‘Er…er…’ Emma stammered, ‘he…he’s busy, darling, but you’ll see him soon.’
‘And Doris?’
‘I’m here,’ Doris said, poking her head around the door. ‘I thought I’d leave you alone with Mummy for a minute, but can I come in now?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Emma said, thankful that her friend was there to divert attention from Terry’s absence.
‘Blimey, Tinker, you gave us all a fright for a while,’ Doris said, hugging the child fiercely.
‘Call me Pat, or Patricia.’
‘Yeah, I heard, love, but you’ve been Tinker since you were a baby, and you’ve got to admit it’s a cute name.’
‘I’m not a baby now.’
‘Oh, so you’re all grown up, are you?’
‘Well, I am eleven, you know.’
Doris roared with laughter. ‘Yeah, and by the sound of it, going on twenty-one.’
Then the porters arrived to take Tinker to the ward. Emma and Doris followed behind, waited until she was settled. After sitting with her for another half-hour, they were asked by the ward sister to leave. ‘I’m afraid visiting time is over,’ she said, ‘but you can see her again between four and six this afternoon.’
Emma was loath to go, but happy to see her daughter taking an interest in her surroundings again. She hugged and kissed her, pleased to see that her eyes were bright. ‘We’ll be back later, darling.’
Doris kissed Tinker too, and then they were almost at the end of the ward when the doors swung open, Terry appearing. He halted when he saw them, but his lips were tight with determination. ‘I’ve come to see Tinker.’
‘Visiting time is over,’ Emma snapped.
It was too late; Tinker had seen him, her voice ringing down the ward: ‘Terry! Terry!’
Emma swung round to see the child waving frantically, but then the ward sister was again at their side. ‘If you have come to visit Patricia I’m afraid visiting time is over.’
‘Have a heart, love,’ Terry protested. ‘Look at her, she’s waving, and surely it wouldn’t hurt if I just pop along to say hello?’