All I Want For Christmas (8 page)

‘I'm fine—really I am.'

‘No, you're not, Gina. I do appreciate you coming in, but it isn't fair to the children or the rest of the staff. Now, off you go.'

‘But how will you manage?' Gina protested feebly, glancing around.

‘We will. I'll contact the agency for a temp.'

But even as Lauren went to the phone, it rang. Jane's mother in Scotland, calling to say her father had suffered a heart attack.

‘I must go,' Jane said, fighting back tears. ‘Mum sounded frantic.'

‘Of course you must. Straight away.'

The agency was doubtful whether they could send anyone that day. So much illness around. Staff holidays going on until the new year. Tomorrow, maybe. Or the day after.

The two new babies were fretful, one refusing her bottle and the other crying nonstop, which soon triggered off some of the others.

Lauren took a deep breath, and jiggling one baby on each hip, tried to encourage a group of older children to do some finger-painting.

‘Zoe, you know what to do. Will you show
Fergus
and Mandy for me?'

Zoe, intent on her own painting, pushed out her bottom lip and glowered.

‘I don't like Fergus. He pinches.'

‘Well, if you show him how to finger-paint, he won't be able to pinch at the same time, will he?'

‘I will,' Fergus growled, dipping a hand into a pool of brilliant blue and then seizing Zoe's cheek.

Zoe screamed. Fergus shrieked with laughter and spun round to pinch andy's cheek as well. Mandy pinched him back, and all three children screamed, making the babies Lauren was cuddling burst into wails of fright. And through all the noise, Lauren heard an even louder scream.

‘Lauren! Quickly!'

Leaving the paint-streaked children, and with a baby still tucked under each arm, she wove her way through darting little bodies to the far side of the room. Eyes wide with horror, Sarah was holding one of the toddlers on her lap while blood dripped down the little face.

For a second, the room wavered around Lauren.

Then she rapped out, ‘Ice!'

Tots were gathering round, staring silently at the sobbing two-year-old.

‘I think Katy caught her head on the cupboard door. Someone had left it open,'
Sarah
gabbled, dabbing at the blood with a tissue.

‘Here you are.' Helen thrust a saucer of ice cubes towards Lauren.

‘Take these two,' Lauren instructed, passing the babies to her. ‘Now, Sarah, let me have Katy.'

With the ice pressed firmly to the sobbing toddler's head, she ran out of the door and down to the lift, pushing her way through waiting people when it arrived.

‘Ground floor!' she ordered, and someone quickly pressed the button.

Talking quietly to the little girl, her fingers numb from the ice she held close to the small head, water running down her arm and soaking into her sleeve, she waited until the lift stopped.

Murmurs of sympathy floated behind her as she stepped into the corridor and began to run its length to Casualty.

As she stood, legs shaking, breath tugging in her chest, the doors swinging behind her, a nurse came towards her.

‘Someone phoned down to warn us,' she said, taking the child. ‘Do you want to come in with her? What's her name?'

‘Katy,' Lauren murmured, fighting off another wave of dizziness.

‘Hullo, Katy. Now let's see what's happened to you?'

Through a mist of rising darkness, Lauren
heard
Matthew's voice. ‘A chair, nurse. Quickly! And get her head down.'

‘I'm sorry, so sorry,' Lauren murmured. ‘It's just that blood . . . '

‘Really, Miss Mallory—you of all people, to be squeamish?' His voice was teasing, but when Lauren slowly raised her head, she saw only concern in his eyes.

‘All right now?' Weakly, she nodded. ‘Sit there, then, while we get this young lady sorted out. A couple of paper stitches and she'll be fine.'

‘Oh no!' Lauren cried.

‘She'll be as right as ninepence in a couple of minutes. Stay there and don't move. I don't want two of you to cope with. Come on, Katy, my love.'

Once Katy's mother had been found on one of the wards and taken the child home, Lauren's anger kindled.

A phone call later and she was in the hospital manager's office.

‘I need extra space,' she demanded, pointing furiously to the stains of Katy's blood on her blouse. ‘One accident like that is one too many. Something has to be done. Immediately.'

‘And what do you suggest, Ms Mallory?'

‘There's a store room next to the crèche. Knocking down part of the adjoining wall would create an extension.'

‘If it's a store room, then it's obviously
already
in use.'

‘For old television sets and other damaged electrical equipment. All items that should be thrown away.'

‘I can't just sanction something like that, Ms Mallory. The items would need to be checked by a qualified person.'

Lauren's chin jutted. ‘So what's of more importance—a damaged child or a damaged TV?' she snapped, and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

The next morning, as the crèche staff were settling the babies down to sleep, there was a terrific clatter in the corridor outside. Lauren shot through the door to find a couple of men in overalls loading the contents of the store room on to a trolley.

‘What's happening?'

‘Clearing it.'

‘And then what?'

The man shrugged. ‘Just told to clear it, that's all.'

Progress at last,
Lauren thought happily, until an email arrived later that morning. It sent her, fuming, straight back to the hospital manager's office. He smiled at the sight of her. ‘Thought you'd be pleased.'

‘Pleased?' she stormed. ‘I've just been told to close down the crèche for a week!'
‘That's
correct. We're extending the room, just as you requested yesterday, Ms Mallory.'

‘But I can't close it. What about the children? The parents? We've only just returned after the Christmas break. That caused problems for some of them who were on duty. Why can't it be done at the weekend?'

‘Look, Ms Mallory, you've been agitating for an extension to your room. Well, now you're getting one.'

‘But from today . . . '

‘Ms Mallory, consider yourself very lucky to have this extension at all, in the present economic climate.'

Lauren took a deep breath. ‘I know. Thank you. But parents just can't arrange for their children to be taken care of elsewhere without any warning. Isn't there somewhere else we could use in the meantime?'

‘No, Ms Mallory.'

Her back stiffened. ‘And if your nursing staff, auxiliaries, receptionists and doctors just down tools and stop work for a week without any warning, to stay at home and look after their offspring, what will you do?'

His eyes bulged. ‘They wouldn't do that.'

‘No, I dare say they wouldn't, but some of them are going to be very hard pressed to cope.'

Returning to the crèche she broke the news to the rest of her staff. Their reaction was exactly the same as her own.

‘They
can't just spring it on us like this!' Sarah protested, peeling off a baby's nappy.

‘Well, they have,' Lauren replied, handing her a clean one. ‘And we'll have to clear this room before the workmen arrive in any case.'

‘Why can't they do it at the weekend?' Emma asked, sponging paint from three toddler's faces and hands while she spoke.

‘That would mean overtime,' Lauren explained. ‘It'll be a long job, knocking out part of that wall, and rebuilding it into an arch. They'll have to redecorate the whole room afterwards.'

‘A week's seems an awfully long time. My dad did our through-lounge in one day,' Emma retorted. ‘Will we get paid while we're off work?' She seized a towel and dried the tots' small faces and hands. ‘They won't make us take it as holiday, will they?'

‘Take what?' Helen asked, bringing another baby for changing.

‘Haven't you heard?' Emma said. ‘We're closing for a week while they extend this room.'

Helen glared at Lauren. ‘Why didn't you warn us earlier?'

‘I didn't know myself until half an hour ago, Helen. And if you've any suggestions as to how we can cope, I'll be pleased to hear them.'

‘Can't we use somewhere else?' Emma asked.

‘Where?' the others chorused.

‘The
student nurses' lecture room?' asked Emma. ‘It's on this floor.'

‘What about their lectures?' Lauren reasoned.

‘There aren't any until after the Christmas and New Year breaks. My sister's a student nurse.'

‘Oh, Emma! You're brilliant!' Lauren cried. ‘I'll go and see what I can do.' Fifteen minutes later she was back. ‘Anyone prepared to stay on late this evening to move some of the stuff in here down the corridor?'

‘You succeeded!' Sarah grinned.

‘With a bit of arm-bending.'

‘Brilliant! I can manage an extra hour, but then I'm off to see the pantomime. Everybody says it's really great'

‘Pantomime?' Lauren mused thoughtfully, her gaze travelling to where Zoe was carefully sticking patterns onto paper. And then she remembered her new year resolution. Zoe was to be treated just like the other children in the crèche.

CHAPTER SIX

The temporary move into the lecture room successfully completed, the rest of the week continued, to the resounding noise of hammers and drills. One or two parents turned
up
in the wrong place, but soon learned where to go, prompted by a small son or daughter.

Lauren kept a close eye on the building work and was pleased with the result. Even such a small extra area would make a difference to the arrangement of the room, and also give the babies a quieter place to sleep.

At home in the evenings, she spent time drawing plans of where everything would go. The extra door into the corridor from the extension would need a security lock, like the main crèche. Baby kidnapping was a rare happening, but it did happen, and it was far easier to keep a close check on one entrance, than two. With patients, visitors and staff coming and going all day, too many people had access to the corridors of the hospital. No matter how tight the security system, there was always the danger that someone could slip through.

Even though the crèche door had a coded security lock, it was left open for the short times when most parents were delivering and collecting their children. Any other time, they had to ring the bell and wait.

But locking all doors had one main disadvantage. A fire. It was Lauren's biggest fear. Security systems were all very well, until there was an emergency requiring swift evacuation. Fire drill was routine. But in a panic situation, with so many babies and
children,
what might happen?

‘How's the little girl? Katy, wasn't it?' Matthew asked when he came to collect Zoe that evening.

‘I phoned her mother this afternoon, and she seems to be fine. Mind your chin, Charlotte,' Lauren replied, as she tugged up the zip on a toddler's anorak. ‘I feel so dreadful about it, though.'

‘Well, don't, Lauren. These things happen. Especially with a horde of infants racing around. I'm amazed it doesn't occur more frequently.'

‘But I'm responsible for each and every child, Matthew. Their mothers put their trust in me.'

Mathew sat on his heels to tie one of Zoe's shoelaces. ‘The same thing could happen in their own home. No mother can keep her eye on her child every moment of the day. It's impossible. You really mustn't take this too much to heart, Lauren. No one's blaming you.'

He rose to his feet and tweaked Zoe's hood into place. ‘Will you let me take you out to dinner tomorrow?'

The unexpectedness of his question startled her. ‘Dinner? Tomorrow?'

‘New Year's Eve, Lauren. After all your kindness to us at Christmas, it's the very least I can do.'

‘Won't you be on duty?'

He shook his head.

‘What
about Zoe?'

The corners of his mouth tilted. ‘She won't be on duty either.'

Lauren smiled back at him. ‘You know what I mean.'

‘Clare, my neighbour, will have her.'

‘The pregnant one? Hasn't she had the baby yet?'

‘Another week, she's been told. But she's keeping fairly close to home at the moment. Not seeing the New Year in at some wild party.'

‘Thanks, then, that would be lovely. It's ages since I went out for a New Year's meal.'

The last time was with Rick, she remembered. An expensive little Italian restaurant. Secluded tables in alcoves. Candlelight and soft music. A beautiful meal. And at the end of it, he'd told her he was leaving—to marry someone else.

‘Lauren!' Matthew's voice sounded puzzled. ‘I said, shall I pick you up around eight?'

For a second, she stared blankly at him before his words registered in her brain. ‘Yes,' she replied, feeling a pulse of excitement throb through her body. ‘Eight o'clock will be fine.'

There wasn't time to dwell on it, though. The working day was beginning. Children arriving. She had to put it out of her mind and concentrate.

It was late in the grey December afternoon when she noticed a haziness near the door into
the
corridor. Only a few of the children were left. Most had been collected at the end of the five o'clock nursing shift.

At first she thought one of the light bulbs had failed, but even as she looked the haze wavered and twisted. Thickening. Billowing. And as the acrid smell of smoke caught in her throat, she knew she was about to face her dreaded fear. Fire.

Lauren's reflexes took over without conscious thought, sending her running to where the children were clustered, gathering up their paintings to take home. As she ran, with the shriek of smoke detectors deafening her, a fine spray of water cascaded down from the ceiling, soaking her hair, her face, her neck and drenching her clothes.