‘What a little angel,’ she said. ‘Oh, we’ve had such a lovely time. He took his bottle beautifully and then just lay on the floor, playing with some old rattles I found, and I sang to him, poor child, but it made him laugh. Anyway, he’s asleep now, in his carrycot. I’ll just get it unless you’d like a quick cuppa –’
Alice could think of nothing she’d like more than a quick cuppa, but she had visions of Charlie waking up, taking one look at her and starting to scream, and after thanking Mrs Hartley profusely, she took the carrycot and went home.
‘You little monster,’ she hissed at Charlie, as she set him down on the floor.
Tom arrived home exhausted and in no mood to start fretting over the health of Kit, who was fast asleep.
‘Hell of a day,’ he said. ‘Doorstepping, non-stop. Several people told me to bugger off, several more to mind my own effing business. Oh, politics is fun. Well, only ten days to go. Whatever happens it can’t be worse than this.’
‘Tom, I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad day,’ said Alice carefully, ‘but I’m really worried about Kit. Supposing it isn’t appendicitis, supposing it’s—’
‘Supposing it’s what? Look, he’s fine, Alice, sleeping like a – a baby. Obviously, whatever it is can’t be serious. And Dr Redmond is getting an appointment with a consultant. What more do you want?’
‘I – I want to be convinced,’ said Alice. ‘And I’m not. He’s in such pain when it happens. We had children in Thomas’ with appendicitis and it can be horribly painful, of course, but it wasn’t really like that – and if it is his appendix it could rupture and then—’
‘Alice,’ said Tom, ‘you’re being a typical nurse, thinking you know more than the doctor. Look, I’m sorry, but Kit seems fine to me, and I need to get some sleep. I think I might stay in Purbridge tomorrow and the next few nights. The journey is a killer. Now, you are still on for polling day, aren’t you?’
‘If Kit’s all right.’
‘Oh, Christ,’ said Tom and stalked out of the room; Alice heard him going upstairs.
‘Bastard,’ she said, too quietly for him to hear but it still made her feel better. Was the election really more important than his child’s health?
It seemed it was.
‘Diana Southcott?’
She knew that voice. Posh with an edge, she would have labelled it. Like its owner. She had been wondering if she might hear it again of its own accord, or whether she might have to use subterfuge. But no subterfuge required. Good start. Very good start. She’d only been back twenty-four hours.
‘Yes. It’s me.’
‘Leo Bennett.’
‘Oh – hello,’ she said. She didn’t want him getting all pleased with himself, thinking she’d recognised his voice straight away. Even if she had.
‘How was New York?’
‘It was amazing.’
‘Good. Did you like the Pierre?’
‘Loved it.’
‘Do any shopping?’
‘Didn’t have time.’
‘God. They really were making you work.’
‘Of course,’ said Diana, slightly primly.
‘I rang,’ he said, after a moment’s pause, ‘just on the off chance you might have changed your mind.’
‘About the story? No, absolutely not. Sorry, Leo.’
‘That’s OK. I thought that’s what you’d say. But you know . . . never give up.’
‘I’m sure you never do,’ she said.
‘Occasionally. How would you feel about lunching again anyway? Without having to worry about what you were or weren’t telling me?’
‘I’d feel quite happy,’ she said, smiling down the phone. ‘But not yet, I’m working all day the next few days.’
‘You really do work hard, don’t you?’ he said. ‘In that case, why don’t we make it dinner instead? If that could be sooner . . .’
They arranged to meet two nights later. Diana wondered how her knees would react to seeing him again. Maybe it would only happen on the first meeting.
Chapter 56
Oh, no. Please, please, no. Not again. He’d been so well the last thirty-six hours . . . now he was lying on the kitchen floor, thrashing about with pain, screaming, ‘Tummy . . . tummy . . . tummy . . .’
It was six thirty in the morning. Tom had just left, not that he would have been any help, Alice thought, racking her brain for someone who might be not Dr Redmond. Oh, of course, of course, she should have asked her before.
‘Jillie? It’s me, Alice. Look – I know it’s a lot to ask but could you – could you possibly come over? There’s something the matter with Kit. Recurrent abdominal pain. Three times now, each episode more severe. He’s screaming with pain, legs drawn up, vomiting . . . temperature a hundred and two –’
‘Sounds like appendicitis.’
‘I know, so the doctor has said, twice now. But I think it’s something else. I know it’s something else. No idea what. Jillie, please come.’
‘I’m on duty this morning, Alice. Operating. I was just leaving.’
‘Jillie, please. I’m really scared. I don’t know what do to.’
A moment’s silence; then Jillie said, ‘Let me give them a ring. I’ll see what I can do.’
She rang back in five minutes. Five very long minutes.
‘It’s OK, I’m on my way.’
Alice met her at the door, gave her a hug. ‘Thank you so much for coming. I’m so scared. He’s really unwell. Come through, he’s in the sitting room. Oh, God, Jillie, what on earth is that?’
There was an explosion as something extremely unpleasant, red in colour, came shooting out of Kit’s pyjama trousers.
‘I don’t know, not really. But can I have a look at your bottom, Kit, darling?’ said Jillie. ‘I’ll try not to hurt, I promise.’
Jillie spent a little while examining him, then said, ‘I can feel something – in his rectum. He needs to see someone urgently. What’s your GP like?’
‘Hopeless. He just keeps saying it’s appendicitis.’
‘Well, you’re right, it’s more than that. Kit needs to see a specialist quickly.’
‘The GP finally agreed to that yesterday. He’s writing to someone.’
‘Writing! It’s a lot more urgent than that, I’m afraid.’
‘But where – I mean, who?’ She looked at Jillie with panic in her eyes.
‘I think you should take him to see Ned,’ said Jillie quietly. ‘He’s one of the best paediatricians in London and he’d see him this morning, I know.’
‘You really think he needs to be seen that urgently?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I’ll call him then. Do you have the number for his rooms?’
‘Yes. Here –’
Alice rang the number. It rang for quite a long time. She looked at her watch.
‘It’s only nine. Would he be there?’
‘He should be. If not then I – well, I do have his home number.’
‘Of course. God, Jillie, this is good of you. I – oh, good morning. Is that Mr Welles’s secretary?’
‘Yes. Can I help you?’ The voice didn’t promise great helpfulness.
‘I – wondered if I could speak to Mr Welles? I’m a prospective patient. Or rather my child is.’
‘I’m afraid not. Mr Welles doesn’t speak directly to patients without a referral. So – I’m afraid . . .’
‘Could you hold on a minute?’ Alice put her hand over the phone and looked at Jillie. ‘He doesn’t speak to patients without a referral.’