‘Acute appendicitis. Appendectomy first thing in the morning. Mr Sharp’s seen him and said to have him ready first on the list.’
Graham Sharp was perfectly competent, in Ned’s view, although at the age of forty had probably reached the peak of his career.
‘He doesn’t consider it necessary to do it tonight?’
‘No, Mr Welles, he does not,’ said Sister firmly. ‘Now, Billy, you’re much too big a boy for that silly crying. Say goodbye to your mother and come with me, and we’ll get you into bed.’
Billy peered into the darkened ward with its long row of beds, and screamed even louder. Sister recommenced her prising, yet more children sat up in bed, and Billy’s mother said, fresh tears flowing, ‘I don’t know what to do.’
Ned lost his temper. ‘Sister, can we stop this nonsense at once. Would you please allow Billy’s mother to get him into bed and stay with him until he’s asleep, or certainly calmer. And you,’ he said, turning to the nurse. ‘You get all those other children tucked up again. I’m sorry, Mrs – sorry, I don’t know your name –’
‘Johns,’ said the mother, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘I’m ever so sorry, sir, he doesn’t usually behave like this, but –’
‘But he’s in a very frightening situation. Of course. Now, Billy –’ and he squatted down in front of the little boy and took one of his hands – ‘you do have to stay here, I’m afraid – we have to make your poor tummy better – but Mummy will be with you for as long as you want her to be. Which is his bed, Sister?’
Sister, beyond speech, pointed at an empty bed at the end of the ward; Ned led Billy and his mother to it, pulled the curtains round them and said in little more than a whisper, ‘Do you have any pyjamas with you?’
Billy shook his head.
‘We didn’t know he’d be staying,’ said Mrs Johns. ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘Of course you didn’t. We have some he can borrow, I’m sure. What about a teddy or something?’
‘Well, there’s his dumdum as he calls it,’ said Mrs Johns, producing a distinctly grubby muslin nappy from her bag, ‘but the nurse said he couldn’t bring it, said it’s dirty.’
‘Well, it won’t do him any harm tonight,’ said Ned, taking it. ‘Tomorrow we’ll have to get it washed, I’m afraid, but that’s no problem. Now I’m going to find you some pyjamas, young man. You wait here with your mummy.’
He walked out to the nurses’ desk, where three goggled-eyed nurses were clustered, whispering and giggling, and asked one of them to find Billy some pyjamas and take them to him. ‘And let him keep that grubby bit of cloth until he goes down for surgery in the morning. Mrs Johns is going to stay with him until he goes to sleep. Is that quite clear?’
‘Yes, Mr Welles,’ they said in chorus.
Ned nodded and went into Sister’s office. She was white with rage.
‘Mr Welles, I cannot have this sort of thing in my ward. The disruption is dreadful. What’s more, you have totally undermined my authority and I shall make a formal complaint in the morning.’
‘That is absolutely your prerogative,’ said Ned. ‘I’m sorry if you feel undermined, but I would like to point out that it is not your ward, it’s the children’s. The disruption has entirely ceased, if you notice, and Billy himself is quiet and as happy as can be expected for a child who has undergone such a significant trauma as he has today and who indeed is undoubtedly still in pain. Goodnight, Sister. I shall be in my room for another half-hour, should there be any further problems.’
Sister was silent; Ned, who had longed only to get home in the shortest possible time, walked to his room and sat down wearily at his desk. Where he found, finally, among other messages tucked under his blotter, the one from Diana; he decided to ignore it until the morning.
Chapter 50
‘Hello? Is that the Dispatch? Would you put me through to the diary editor? Sorry, I don’t have his name. Oh, yes, please, that would be most helpful. Let me just write that down. Leo, is that right? Leo Bennett? Could you transfer me, please? Yes, to him personally. Thank you.’
Diana had woken up feeling almost excited at her plan. Oh, this was going to be fun. Tom’s last day as upright family man and principled politician. Diana thought of him, safely in his family-man bubble, canvassing on doorsteps, addressing meetings, people smiling at him approvingly – and how efficiently and swiftly that bubble was going to be burst. Sorry, dear Friend Tom. Nothing can save you now.
It would be nice to talk to Diana, Ned thought, about his troubles at the hospital. She was, in spite of certain absurdities, possessed of a large degree of common sense and her reactions to his dilemma would almost certainly be helpful. She was the only person he could have this particular conversation with. His mother was back in Cornwall, and besides, was rather lacking in common sense. He would ring Diana, apologise for not getting back to her sooner, and invite her to dinner that night.
Her phone was engaged. Well, he’d go to the canteen, get a sandwich, then try her again.
‘Hello? Is that Leo Bennett? Oh, I see. Well, when will he be out of conference? No, I really do want to speak to him myself. Yes, if you could ask him to ring me, that would be very kind. My number is SLOANE six two four. Sorry? Oh, my name is Southcott. Diana Southcott. Thank you so much.’
Back in his room, Ned rang Diana’s number again. It was still engaged. God, women talked a lot. He’d try her once more and then it would have to wait. By which time she’d almost certainly be fixed for the evening. Well, there was always tomorrow . . .