Ned was demanding to know why he had not been told of Susan’s distress when Sir Neil Lawson, who was also most unusually still in the hospital, stalked into the ward, white lipped with fury, demanding silence; and, literally shouting across Susan’s bed, to an audience of frightened children, tremulous nurses and a deeply satisfied Sister, demanded that Mr Welles should leave her to the care of the nurses, and go immediately to his office.
Ned, driven to his own fury, refused, ‘until I have first examined and then calmed this child to my satisfaction’. They faced one another across the bed, shouting, each refusing the other the respect and indeed courtesy that was their due. It was appalling, as Ned afterwards admitted to everyone, for morale, for the children, for the nurses. The children were upset and anxious for days.
He had no right, he knew, to set himself single-handedly against the philosophy and discipline of an undoubtedly great hospital; he had ruthlessly used his position there to turn comfort into confrontation, order into anarchy. He had behaved in a way that he had no right to do; and he resolved that he should approach his campaign in future quite differently,
Sir Neil kept him waiting for over half an hour. When he arrived, still clearly fuming, he called Ned in and didn’t even tell him to sit down.
‘That was shocking, appalling behaviour. I cannot tell you how distressed I was.’
‘You don’t need to,’ said Ned quietly, ‘and I shall have letters of apology to Sister and to the nurses involved delivered in the morning. And to you, of course, Sir Neil.’
‘I’m afraid I require rather more than that. I want your absolute assurance – and most certainly in writing – that you are dropping this absurd campaign of yours, as of now, and that we will hear no more about it.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t give you that,’ said Ned. ‘It is too important to me. And, I still believe, to the children themselves. But I shall approach it differently – there will be no more confrontation in the wards, I assure you.’
‘Then I shall have to ask for your resignation. This is a large and important hospital and I cannot risk its running being disturbed by what I can only term crackpot theories. And I would remind you also of the other matter of which we spoke, Mr Welles.’
A long silence; then Ned said, ‘Very well. If that is how you feel, then you will have my resignation in writing in the morning. Meanwhile, I apologise for my behaviour, and for the undoubted distress I have caused.’
Whereupon he left Sir Neil and the hospital calmly; but he arrived home with a sense of foreboding, aware that he had not only lost his job, but also made an enemy of one of the most significant members of his profession.
Two days later Kit had another attack. As he walked into the kitchen, he suddenly lay down on the floor, his legs drawn up, screaming, in between sobbing and saying, ‘Tummy, tummy.’ And then he vomited. It was an absolute replay of the last time.
Alice laid him tenderly on the sofa, ran to the phone and dialled the surgery number: could Dr Redmond come and see Kit immediately. Dr Redmond was out on his rounds, and wouldn’t be back for at least two hours. She could come to the surgery if she liked, and then she’d be sure of seeing him, otherwise he wouldn’t be making any more house calls until at least five.
‘And you can’t contact him?’
‘No, of course not. I only do it in the most acute emergencies. Of course, you could take your child to casualty.’
Alice looked in at Kit; he was quieter. Maybe . . . but it was only a pause, and then the screaming began again. God, this was a nightmare.
‘I’ll bring him to the surgery,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
Kit’s screams were now joined by Charlie’s. Alice visualised sitting in the surgery for up to an hour, with three children, two of whom were screaming, one possibly vomiting; she wasn’t sure if she would be able to bear it. She rang Tom, without any hope at all: he was on his way to Purbridge. She did have a couple of friends in the road, but they had three children apiece; she could hardly wish Charlie on them.
And then she thought of Mrs Hartley, her next-door neighbour who had more than once offered to help Alice. ‘My grandchildren are all teenagers – how I miss them. I’d love to have one of yours if you were stuck one day.’
She was, surely, stuck now?
She knocked tentatively on Mrs Hartley’s door, and explained her predicament. Could she possibly have Charlie? ‘We won’t be more than an hour, two at the most.’ Mrs Hartley beamed at her.
‘You be as long as you like,’ she said. ‘I’d love to have the baby. I’ve offered to help and I meant it.’
‘Oh – thank you,’ said Alice. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll get his bottle and his carrycot.’ She hoped she sounded like the mother of a child who enjoyed his bottle and lay gurgling in his carrycot for hours on end.
She returned in minutes with Charlie in the carrycot, the bottle tucked at his feet; Mrs Hartley reached for him eagerly, as if Alice was giving her some long-yearned-after present.
‘You go on, lovey, you don’t want to lose your place. I’m sure the doctor will be able to sort Kit out; he does look bad, though. Come on, then, Charlie, we’re going to have a lovely afternoon together.’
Alice, feeling rather like an executioner, thanked her and left, put the other two children in the back seat of the car, Kit swathed in towels against further vomiting, and drove to the surgery.
‘Yes, well, you were right to bring him back,’ said Dr Redmond. ‘But I stand by my original diagnosis. He’s quite quiet again now, and his abdomen is quite soft – it follows the pattern of appendicitis exactly. Very distressing for both of you, but not serious.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘Yes?’
He sounded slightly less patient.
‘If it’s not, what might it be?’
‘Well, hard to say. But I’m confident it is.’
‘And – how long would you leave it? Before operating, I mean? Supposing he got peritonitis as a result, then—’
‘Mrs Knelston, I do assure you Kit is a long way from developing peritonitis,’ said Dr Redmond, his expression carefully patient.
‘How can we be sure of that?’ Irritation was making Alice brave.
‘Well –’ He hesitated, then said, ‘I can arrange for him to see a consultant, if you like. How would that be?’
‘Well – mightn’t it take weeks?’
‘Good heavens, no. You’ve been reading the newspapers, they love running down our National Health Service. Maybe a couple of weeks, no more.’
‘But Dr Redmond, this has happened twice in three days. Surely—?’
‘Look, Mrs Knelston, I can’t do better than that. Bring Kit in if he has another of these attacks, of course, but I’d put money on it all settling down within a week. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’
They were clearly dismissed.
And now, thought Alice, I’ve got to face Mrs Hartley. Who will probably never speak to me again.
Mrs Hartley was beaming as she opened the door. A blissful silence lay behind her in her house.