Joss tucked Ned inside her dressing gown and, sitting down, abandoned herself to the silence of the early morning and the gentle rhythm of the baby’s sucking as she gave him his bottle. When the door opened and Lyn appeared she was almost asleep.
‘Joss! What are you doing?’ She too was carrying a newly warmed feeding bottle.
Joss opened her eyes. ‘I’m giving my son his breakfast.’
‘But that’s my job!’ Lyn was fully dressed, her hair neatly brushed.
‘Didn’t you see Luke in the kitchen? He’s making tea. He should have told you I was doing it. I’m sorry, Lyn. Could you get Tom up?’
Lyn swallowed a retort and banging down the bottle on the table turned on her heel. ‘Perhaps next time you want to do it, you’ll let me know so I don’t have to get up at dawn.’
‘Oh Lyn, I’m sorry – ’
‘No. That’s OK. I’m just reminding you.’
Already she had gone. With a sigh Joss dropped a kiss on Ned’s head, listening as Lyn’s voice changed from nagging sarcasm to bright and cheerful. ‘Good morning Tom Tom. Time to get up, sweetheart. Tom Tom?’ The tone abruptly turned sharp with fear. ‘Oh God, Tom!’
‘Lyn? What is it?’ Joss stood up. Dropping Ned into his cot she ran towards Tom’s room, pulling her dressing gown around her. ‘Lyn, what’s happened?’ Behind her the baby was screaming with indignation.
Lyn had lifted Tom from his cot. ‘Quick, he’s choking on something. He’s turning blue.’
‘Push his tummy – quickly –’ Joss grabbed the little boy, folding him across her arm. With two desperate gasps Tom coughed up a tiny wooden bird, vomited a trail of bloody spit and began to cry in short rasping sobs.
‘Tom!’ Joss hugged him. ‘Tom, darling – ’
‘Sweet Jesus, why did you give him these? You must have known he’d put them in his mouth!’ Lyn had picked up a handful of the tiny birds which were scattered all over his bed.
‘I didn’t give them to him.’ Joss was trying to soothe the sobbing child.
‘Hush, darling, please. Tom – please stop crying. It’s all right now. Everything’s all right now.’
‘Blood! Joss, there’s blood all over the bed!’ Lyn pulled back the covers. ‘Oh God, Tom. Where’s he bleeding?’
‘He’s not bleeding.’ Joss was managing to soothe him at last. ‘He’s OK. Just very frightened, that’s all.’
‘I’m going to call Simon. Look at the blood round his mouth – ’
‘It’s only a tiny bit, Lyn. He’s all right –’ Joss was calming down far more quickly than Lyn now that the initial panic was over.
‘He’s not all right. Where did the blood on his sheets come from?’
‘I expect from me. I pricked my finger last night. It wouldn’t stop bleeding.’
‘So you were in here last night. It was you who gave him the toys.’ Lyn’s voice was a mixture of accusation and triumph at catching her out.
‘I am allowed in my own child’s bedroom, Lyn,’ Joss’s temper suddenly snapped, ‘and I never gave him those animals. I told you. I wouldn’t be so stupid!’
‘Well then, who did? Tell me that. Luke?’
‘No, of course not Luke.’
‘Then who? Go on, Joss, as you know so much. Who?’
‘I don’t know who.’ Joss cradled Tom’s head against her shoulder.
‘Look Lyn, go and ring Simon. Perhaps he could look in on the way to the surgery. Go on,’ she repeated as Lyn hesitated.
Reluctantly Lyn went through to the bedroom. Behind her, Joss carried Tom through to Ned’s room. ‘Will you stand close to Mummy while I see if your little brother needs a burp before I change his nappy?’ She set Tom down on the floor, disengaging herself from his arms with difficulty. He had stopped crying at last. Hanging on to her dressing gown with one hand the thumb of the other had found its way back into his mouth. Stooping over the screaming Ned she picked him up and held him against her shoulder.
‘Who gave you those little birds, Tom Tom?’ Joss kept her voice as casual as she could as she gently rubbed Ned’s back. He was quiet at last.
‘Georgie.’ The thumb came out long enough for the one word.
Joss took a deep breath trying to steady the sudden jolting of her heart. ‘I know they’re Georgie’s toys, but who put them in your cot?’
‘Georgie.’ He reached for her sash and began to swing the ends of it backwards and forwards.
‘Tom,’ she moved Ned to the other shoulder and crouched down to put her free hand round Tom’s shoulders, ‘darling, what does Georgie look like?’
‘Boy.’
She swallowed hard. Her mouth had gone dry. ‘What sort of boy?’
‘Nice boy.’
Ned was already asleep when she tucked him back into his crib. Then she squatted down in front of Tom once more and took his hands in hers. ‘Tell me about him. Is he bigger than you?’
Tom nodded.
‘And what colour is his hair? Is it like yours?’ She fingered Tom’s curls.
He nodded. ‘Like Mummy’s hair.’
‘I see.’ There was a lump in her throat which would not go away. ‘And the tin man, Tom. Was he there too?’
Tom nodded.
‘Did he play with the toys?’ Her breath felt as though it were being squeezed between ribs of steel. She couldn’t breathe properly.
Tom nodded again.
‘And you’re not frightened of him any more?’
Tom nodded a third time.
‘You mean you are frightened?’
Tom’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t like tin man.’
‘Tom –’ she hesitated. ‘Tom, has he ever given you a rose to play with?’ He looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘A flower – a white flower with prickles …’ The other roses hadn’t had thorns – none of them had had thorns.
Shaking his head Tom poked at her skirts with his finger.
‘Why are you frightened of him, Tom?’
He stared at her with huge eyes. ‘Tom go see horse.’
Joss smiled. ‘You liked the horse, Tom?’
He nodded vehemently.
‘Right then, let’s go and see him. You can have a ride while Aunty Lyn and I get breakfast.’