The Big Move

‘No. I just want to see him.’

‘That’s fine. If you think of anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll be around for the next couple of hours, just in case there are any problems. Jem’s in Recovery now, so you can come and talk to him. He’s very drowsy, but he’s come round and he’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

Kate nodded, her body suddenly turning to jelly, and she was glad she was sitting down. Nick helped her up, his arm around her as they went through into Recovery, and it tightened as she stood by Jem’s side, sucking in her breath at her first sight of him.

He was linked up to a mass of tubes and wires and drips, a monitor blinking on the wall behind him, and his poor bruised little face was so chalk-white against the pillow he almost disappeared on it.

She took his hand in hers, wondering at how small and fragile he looked—somehow so much more vulnerable, with his eyes shut and all the tubes and wires. Where was her lively, vibrant boy, his gangly limbs and eager enthusiasm carrying him through life at a hundred miles an hour? Where had he gone? She stroked his hair back from his bruised forehead with a shaking hand and bent to kiss it.

‘Jem? It’s Mum. I’m here, my darling, right next to you. You’re going to be all right. You sleep now, OK?’

There was a small sound that could have been acknowledgement, and his fingers flickered in her hand. She squeezed them back, and he seemed to sigh and go off to sleep again, and she felt her legs start to buckle with relief.

But Nick was there, holding her up, giving her moral and physical support. She didn’t want to rely on him, but there was something about him, like a rock, an anchor in a world that had gone mad, and she leant against him and let him hold her. Just for now, just while she stared at her son and let herself believe he might live.

‘You won’t get much out of him,’ Martin Bradley murmured. ‘He’s heavily sedated, and we’ve given him some pretty hefty pain relief, but he should be more comfortable now his pelvis is stable.’

‘So what happens now?’ Nick asked, staring down at the injured child who looked so fragile amidst the plethora of tubes and wires and technology, and he shrugged.

‘He’ll stay here for a while—an hour or two? Just until we’re quite happy that he’s stable and we don’t have to take him back into Theatre. Then he’ll be in PICU—Paediatric Intensive Care—for the night. He doesn’t really need to be there, but they’ve got the bed available and they’ll be able to monitor him more closely overnight while we balance his bloods, so we might as well take advantage of it. He’ll probably move to the ward tomorrow, and then he’ll be there for a couple of weeks, I expect, while we get him up on his feet again, and then it’s just a case of getting slowly stronger. We’ll have to see. The plates and screws will have to come out at some point, as he’s still got a lot of growing to do, but we’ll worry about that in a few weeks or months. Anyway, I’ll be around, so we’ll talk again tomorrow if I don’t see you later. And try not to worry. He’s going to be all right, you just have to give it time.’

Kate wanted to smile, but her muscles didn’t seem to work. She realised she was still leaning on Nick, and she straightened up, moving away a fraction, distancing herself. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and held out her hand. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

He shook it firmly. ‘My pleasure. I’m glad to see you’ve got someone with you—the whole Tremayne clan, no less, including Lucy. I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you well?’

‘Yes, very,’ she said with a smile, but Kate could see it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Busy. I’ve got two children now.’

‘Yes, so Ben tells me. Well, it’s good to see you again, and it’s nice that Kate’s got so many friends around her supporting her.’

Nobody contradicted him, and he left them alone, nothing to break the silence but the soft beeps and hisses from the instruments, and the distant ringing of a telephone in another room.

Lucy broke the silence first.

‘Um—I ought to go. I’ve left Ben with the children, and Annabel’s had a cold, so she’s a bit fractious, and Josh is teething, but keep in touch.’

‘Yes, make sure you do that,’ Jack agreed. ‘I should go, too, I haven’t seen the kids at all today, and I’ve only seen Alison under the edge of the duvet, so I’d better go home before they can’t remember who I am. I’ll come up tomorrow and see Jem, but if there’s any change in the meantime, Kate, give us a ring, OK? Or if there’s anything we can do?’

‘Of course I will,’ she promised, and they walked out, shoulder to shoulder, Jack putting his hand against Lucy’s back to escort her through the door. And then it swung shut behind them and Nick let go of some of the tension that had held him for the last few hours and looked down at Kate with a fleeting smile.

‘I told you he’d be OK.’

She dredged up a smile. ‘Of course you did. I just didn’t dare believe you.’

‘Do you believe me now?’

‘I might be starting to,’ she admitted, and looked back down at Jem, her face drawn and fraught. ‘You don’t have to stay, Nick.’

Was she mad? ‘Of course I’m staying. You can’t believe I’d leave you alone now.’

‘Why not? You heard the surgeon, he’s out of danger. You don’t need to be here, you’ve got to work tomorrow.’

‘No. I’m not leaving you, Kate. I’m here for you, for both of you, for as long as you need me.’

She met his eyes, and they seemed sincere, but she’d thought that thirty-something years ago, and he’d left her. Left her and married Annabel when she’d become pregnant with the twins. ‘I can’t lean on you, Nick. I won’t let myself. Every time I do, every time I think I dare, you let me down.’

‘I won’t let you down. I promise you, Kate, I won’t walk away from this.’

She stared at him, at the serious expression on his face, the conviction in his eyes, in his voice. Dare she trust him? ‘You always walk away,’ she said at last.

‘I didn’t the night James died.’

She gave a soft huff of laughter and shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t, did you? Maybe it would have been better if you had.’ But then she wouldn’t have had Jem, and her life would have been empty and pointless. And she needed him now.

‘I know I’ve let you down,’ he said softly. ‘I know I’ve let Jem down. But I’m here now, and I’ll stay here for as long as you need me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Just give me a chance.’

She shrugged and looked away. ‘I can’t stop you. But I can’t lean on you, either. I have to do this on my own.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he said, trying to inject something into his voice that she could believe in. ‘And I’ll prove that to you.’ Even if it took years. A lifetime.

Her shoulders were drooping, and his heart went out to her. Poor Kate. She was exhausted, he thought, exhausted and shocked and traumatised, and it was late. ‘You ought to eat,’ he coaxed gently. ‘Keep your strength up.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t eat. Not when he’s like this. Maybe later. I could murder a drink, though. I wonder when they’ll move him to PICU?’

‘An hour or so? Shall I go and get you something? Tea, coffee?’

‘Tea would be lovely. Do you mind? I really don’t want to leave him.’

‘On one condition—you sit down beside him and rest, and you eat something if I bring it back.’

‘You’re a bully, do you know that?’ she said, but she was smiling, an exhausted, rather watery smile that in a heartbeat could have morphed into tears, and she sat obediently in the chair he put there for her.

‘I’m looking after you is what I am,’ he said, and headed for the door. ‘Any special requests?’

‘Tea. And a sandwich, if I must, but no cheese. I’m going to have nightmares as it is.’

‘OK. Back in five.’

He went through the door and down the stairs, pausing halfway because he felt suddenly light-headed. Damn. That was giving two units of blood, not drinking anything like enough to replace the lost fluid or taking in any food—apart from Jack’s biscuits, he’d had half a cup of tea, a cup of water and whatever he’d had in A and E in the relatives’ room, and that was all since his miserable half-sandwich and instant coffee at lunchtime. And it was—good grief—a quarter past midnight.

And the café, when he got there, was shut, with a sign directing him to the main canteen some distance away.

There was a vending machine, and he pulled some coins out of his pocket with fingers that were starting to shake violently, and put them into the machine, pressed the button for a bottle of sports drink to boost his fluids and blood sugar, and twisted the cap to loosen it. And it sprayed him.

He swore, twisting it shut again, and suddenly it was all too much. He dropped his head forwards against the vending machine and resisted the urge to slam it into the gaudy metal case. Head-banging wouldn’t cure anything.

‘Is it broken again?’

The voice was soft and feminine, and he lifted his head and stared vaguely at the woman.