A Very Special Need

‘Oh, yuck, Dad, all over our sofa?’ Martin said theatrically.

‘It was the tiniest bit, and I did wash it well,’ Judith hastened to reassure him.

‘Even so,’ he groaned.

Judith stifled a grin. Let Hugh deal with this one. She was on the point of escaping to the reception desk when there was a bump against the kitchen door and Woody entered in in his wheelchair.

He stopped abruptly as he saw the children, and Judith saw the familiar shutters come down over his features. He looked almost desperately at Judith. ‘Are we going home soon?’ he asked in his slow, rather fractured speech.

‘No, not yet. Mr Barber’s got a couple more patients to see, and then we’re going to stay to supper so he and I can talk about the job.’

Oh.’ He looked a little uncomfortable with that.

‘Is that a problem, darling?’

He shrugged. ‘No, I suppose not. Is there a loo?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Hugh jumped to attention and turned to Martin. ‘Marty, this is Edward Wright, Judith’s son. He’s in the same year as you at school. Woody, my son, Martin, and my daughter, Alice, better known as Toots. Marty, would you take Edward and show him where the cloakroom is, please?’

Judith looked at Martin to gauge his reaction, and her heart sank. He had that ‘Oh, no, I’m going to have to talk to a cripple’ look that so many people got with their first contact with Woody. Mutinous, slightly appalled, uneasy.

‘I’ll show him,’ she said, starting forward.

‘That’s all right, Martin can manage. We’ve got patients to deal with. Marty, make a pot of tea for us all when you’ve done that, could you?’ He took her arm and steered her up the hall, and as they turned the corner he said softly, ‘Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.’

She chewed her lip. ‘He hates meeting new people.’

‘So does Martin. They’ll be fine together. Ah, Mr Parkin, come on in. How’ve you been?’

‘Funniest damn thing—got caught in the dog’s lead and fell over and, d’you know, I do believe my back’s been better ever since?’

Hugh laughed. ‘You don’t say? Come on in, let’s have a look at this miracle cure.’

They were out ten minutes later, Mr Parkin looking as pleased as punch and Hugh looking slightly relieved.

‘No charge, Judith. As the man says, he’s cured. Give me a ring if you don’t stay better, now.’

‘Will do—thanks, Doc. I don’t suppose you want to buy a dog—instant remedy?’

Hugh laughed. ‘No, thanks—and I shouldn’t go trying it again. You might not be so lucky next time.’

She watched him go and turned to Hugh with a smile. ‘Cured by the dog, eh? That won’t do your reputation any good!’

He chuckled. ‘There ought to be a law against unlicensed practitioners.’

‘Absolutely—especially the canine variety.’

He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got a minute or two—let’s grab a cuppa and some of those biscuits, if the kids haven’t finished them all.’

They went back to the kitchen and found the three children in there, sitting round the table. The television was on in the corner but the atmosphere seemed tense. Superficially they looked like a bunch of kids watching the telly, but there was an uneasy and almost rebellious silence underlying the canned laughter on the programme.

She looked at her son and read the misery in his eyes, and turned to Hugh. ‘Look, do you mind if I get Woody home to bed instead of hanging on after your last patient? He’s had a long day and we’ve still got to do his physio before he can go to bed. Perhaps we could spend Monday lunchtime going through the job instead?’

He looked a little taken aback—and disappointed—but he disguised it quickly. ‘No, of course not. Go now. I can manage. I wasn’t really thinking. Sorry, Woody, is your back giving you stick?’

He dredged up a smile. ‘I’ll live. Thanks for my treatment.’

Hugh smiled wryly. ‘You’re welcome. I’m sorry I stole your mother from you at such short notice. Look, Judith, I tell you what—why don’t you hang on half an hour until Mrs Radley’s been and I’ll run you both home?’

She chewed her lip again. ‘Are you sure that’s not a nuisance?’

Of course it isn’t. It’s the least I can do—and, anyway, I really ought to pop down to the hospital and see Christine. I’ll just go on from your place, then I’ll get the kids a take-away on the way home.’

‘OK.’ What a relief, she thought, not to have to push the wheelchair round the corner and up the hill. It wasn’t much of a hill but she wasn’t much of a Mr Universe either, and she realised she was tired after her unexpected afternoon sloshing about in the deep end of her new job.

She swallowed her tea, took a bite of Woody’s biscuit, squeezed him reassuringly on the shoulder and went back to the reception desk just as a young woman with a baby in her arms arrived.

Oh. Christine’s not here.’

‘No, she’s had her baby. I’m Judith, the new receptionist. Are you Mrs Radley?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, how exciting. What did she have?’

‘A boy—here, at lunchtime. It was all very quick and rather dramatic.’

‘Really! What fun! Are they both OK?’

Judith shrugged and smiled, but the smile was a little forced. ‘So far as we could tell,’ she said, thinking of Edward and how normal and healthy he had seemed.

Mrs Radley looked down at the sleepy bundle in her arms. ‘I brought Lucy in to show to her—I don’t suppose you could hang on to her while I go in and see Hugh?’

Hugh appeared behind her and hijacked the baby. ‘Hello, little one. My, what a lovely baby. Are you going to throw up on me?’ he asked with tender teasing. Lucy blinked sleepily and her eyes drooped shut again.

‘Dear me, I must be boring. Here you go, Judith—have a baby. Right, Jenny, how’ve you been? Any better?’

They disappeared, leaving her gazing transfixed at the soft, downy cheeks of the tiny girl, her lashes faint crescents against the pale, blue-white skin. Her hair was fair, tiny soft wisps of it sticking up in little points, and it brought a lump to her throat. Two babies in one day. So many memories.

She bent her head and sniffed, and gave a ragged little sigh. She even smelled the same as Woody had. It had been such a happy time, for all the struggle it had been. Those few short halcyon months before she had realised anything was wrong held the most precious memories of her life.

She sniffed again, inhaling the soft scent of baby powder and ultra-fine skin, and sighed wistfully.

If only things had been different…

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3f302d98-c4cd-563d-a7e2-a452fd29d5c1)

‘NIGHT-night, sweetheart.’ Hugh bent and kissed the soft little cheek, and smoothed the silky strands of hair back from his daughter’s brow. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Night, Daddy,’ she mumbled.