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Alarm flashed across her face; any attempts at concealment vanished. “Don’t you tell him you’ve seen me like this.” She began to cry, and I swore. Me and crying women weren’t a great combo. “He’s got enough on his plate.”
“Nice of you to notice.” Far tears rolled down her cheeks. For a moment, I felt a tiny bit sorry for her. For fuck's sake. “Stay there,” I commanded with a sigh. “I’ll get you some tissues.”
When I came back, she’d pulled herself together. “Don’t tell him, Ezra—he doesn’t need to worry. I’m fine. It’s just… I’m bereaved, you know? It’s normal, isn’t it? At least I’m not at the doctor's begging for pills or anything. I found the body, you know. In the bathroom. It’s a shock. I’ll be much better soon.”
“You sure about that?”
“’Course I’m sure. This is a grief reaction. Everyone copes in their own way.”
“Whatever.” She’d been lying to herself for so long she’d forgotten the truth. And who could blame her? It was always easier than reality and its consequences. And why should it matter to me?
“I won’t tell him,” I said. “But I’m doing it to protect him, not you. He’s juggling enough.”
CHAPTER 18
ISAAC
Eighth bloody shift in a row. It should have been seven, but someone in an office somewhere who’d never worked a night shift in their life ballsed up the rota and put me down for an evening shift finishing at one a.m., instead of five straight days off. Though I was dead on my feet, agreeing was easier than not.
Alaric skidded over to the desk. “There’s a young guy in the paeds majors bay asking for you. His kid’s been brought in, and he’s getting a bit aggy.”
“Aggy young men sound much more your domain, Al. I’ve got a lovely old bird in cubicle three with acute coronary syndrome I’m trying to tee up for the medics before they change shifts. She’s got fifteen grandchildren. Do you want their names and shoe sizes? Because I’m pretty certain I’ve nailed them all.”
“No, really, Isaac. I’m serious. I’ve already fast bleeped paeds to get their arses down here because the kid’s sick as a dog. But the guy’s asking for you by name. He says he’s your brother.”
I didn’t need to see the colour drain from my face; I felt it. For once, my fight-or-flight response acted appropriately. I pelted along the corridor to the emergency bay in time to catcha glimpse of a skinny little boy in Superman pyjamas lolling forward on a trolley. And Ezra too—he was also on the trolley, wrapped around the little boy from behind, his face buried in Jonty’s hair and squeezing him tightly in his arms as the poor mite fought for breath.
Then the paeds team swamped them. “Sir, we need you to get down. We have to sit Jonty back a little to examine him properly. My colleague here needs access to the oxygen at the head end.”
“No. Not until Isaac gets here. I want Dr Fitz-Henry here.”
“Someone’s gone to find him. Please. Sir. Ezra, isn’t it? Please, Ezra. This isn’t helping Jonty. We need to…”
“Ez, I’m here, I’m here.”
Barging through a crowd of medical professionals vastly more capable than me, I reached my brother and nephew. Jonty’s chin flopped on his slumped body. An exhausted little boy, oblivious to folks attaching monitoring to him, uncomplaining of the sharp cannula and of a nurse poking ECG electrodes down his pyjama top around the impedance of his dad. Never good signs in a sick child.
“Thank fuck. He’s not breathing right, Isaac. It’s got worse, and I didn’t know what to do. I phoned Carly, and her mum said to ring for an ambulance. It didn’t fucking arrive for, like, forty minutes, and he got worse. He couldn’t talk—he stopped doing the big gasping breaths and it was like he couldn’t breathe at all.”
My heart clenched at the wild, unfocused terror in Ezra’s eyes. And it was not misplaced. A noisy wheeze meant air was getting through; a silent chest spelled his asthmatic airways were too tight. Ezra gabbled to the nurse next to him about the inhalers and the damp patches in Jonty’s bedroom and the long draughty staircase. An incoherent jumbled mess, and he clung to his boy like he was everything he had left in the world.
But he wasn’t, not anymore. He had me, too. They both did. On some level, by screaming for me, he must have realised that.But right now, my priority was getting the stubborn fucker to stand back so they could work on his boy.
“Listen to me, Ez. You need to get off the trolley, give the team some room, let them do their job.”
“I’m not leaving him. I need to be here. He’s scared. Do something, Isaac.”
“I know he’s scared. And no one’s asking you to leave. Come and stand here with me. These are the paediatric doctors. They do this every day. Much better than me. Please, stand here, out of their way. You can hold Jonty’s hand and talk to him.”
Never had I been so desperate for a relative to trust my words more. And never had I met one who trusted them, or me, or any of us, less. Ezra’s life experiences with the medical profession up to this point hadn’t been entirely positive, to say the least. No wonder he wouldn’t let go.
Something in my eyes and pleading tone must have worked, though, because he climbed off the trolley. Instantly, one of the doctors appeared at the head end, lowering Jonty back, exchanging the flimsy oxygen mask for a sturdy nebuliser. Speaking soothing words, he stroked the frightened little boy’s cheek. Someone else pushed an infusion of meds through the cannula. I tried to ignore the depressing tone and the flashing red light of the sats monitor, dipping well below normal.
White-lipped and fuelled by fear, Ezra’s whole body trembled. He pushed his hands through his mass of wild hair. “God, Isaac, I left it too long. I should have sent for the ambulance at teatime and not waited. But then he was a bit better, and I thought if he could just sleep a bit as he was so tired, because he hadn’t slept much last night—and then…”
I laid my arm around his bony shoulders. They were shaking too. “Hey, it’s not your fault. He probablywasfeeling better then. And now he isn’t. Asthma attacks can fluctuate like that. But you got him here in time. You did the right thing.”
The paeds team worked calmly, efficiently. Summoned by her registrar, the intensive care consultant arrived. Fear spiralled in my chest as the two huddled over blood gases.
