Chapter Sixteen

TWO weeks later, as a late November chill hit the country, Marcus had seen nothing of Tom Bradford. Whether the man had been purposely avoiding him, he didn’t know. Marcus continued to help out and ferry the girls around, even baked a celebratory cake for them all when Katie showed him the B-plus she gained on her school numbers test. But each time, Moira was there to hand over duties. To make matters worse, work had been particularly troublesome, with a sudden wave of staff sickness and then the Birmingham refit, which had stalled because they’d found asbestos in one of the walls.

Add to that the fact that Marcus was no longer getting any sexual release from Tom and he felt as wound tight as the lid of a pickle jar. And what made things worse was that Tom hadn’t contacted him—not once. Not even a text message. Yes, Marcus had called the time-out, but the onus was on Tom to make the next move. Unfortunately Marcus had never been good at playing a waiting game—he needed to know where he stood—so that Thursday, he drove over to Tom’s to talk, knowing that Thursday was Tom’s night in with the girls.

His irritation level ramped up when he found nowhere to park outside the house or along the road, so Marcus finally locked up his car around the corner from the Bradford house. Strolling toward Tom’s gave him time to mull over what he wanted to say. Not a bad turn of events, actually, because the walk calmed him down and helped him think things through carefully. However, the minute he turned the corner and saw Jeanette standing at the garden gate, his composure evaporated. Until he realized something was seriously wrong by the way her gaze darted anxiously up and down the road.

As soon as she caught sight of him, her tense expression filled with relief.

“Oh, thank God, Marcus. It’s Katie,” she said, her face pale as she hurried back into the house. “She’s having trouble breathing. Tom had to go to an urgent site meeting, so I said I’d look after her for an hour. We tried her inhaler, but nothing seems to be working.”

“Have you called anyone?” said Marcus, striding through the house to the sofa where little Katie lay, her face a bluish tinge. Marcus went straight to her and knelt down. Bless her little soul, she fought to breathe, wheezing horribly, her little chest fighting to gasp for air, rising ridiculously large. Through eyes wide with fright, she momentarily appeared grateful to see Marcus. When Marcus smoothed the hair away from her damp face and propped her up, her body went limp in his hands. She had passed out.

“I called both Tom and Moira. She’s picking up Charlotte from ballet class, but neither of them are answering. I left a message,” she said.

“Call an ambulance.”

“Marcus, I didn’t know what to do, she just started—”

“Now, Jeanette! Please. Call them now. Tell them it’s an emergency. Tell them Katie’s asthmatic. And that she’s stopped breathing altogether.”

Shocked into action, Jeanette did as asked. For all her hesitation, she had the sense to react to the emergency. Marcus heard her speaking over the phone, cool and unemotional. No doubt she’d had to deal with her own fair share of difficulties with her son. Marcus leaned down and kissed Katie lightly on the forehead.

“Hang in there, baby. Help is on its way.”

To see his goddaughter lying there so vulnerable, so helpless, almost broke his heart. But he needed to be strong. For her.

“They’ll be here in a couple of minutes,” called Jeanette. “St. Mary’s is just around the corner.”

“How long has she been like this?”

“Just before I saw you. Five or ten minutes. She’d been complaining about being unable to breathe properly since just after I arrived, but said sometimes it just went away. Eventually I got her inhaler, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. And then she started gasping for air. So that’s when I phoned Moira and Tom. Oh God, Marcus. What’s happening?”

“Severe asthma attack. Maybe asthmaticus, I think it’s called. One of my kitchen staff in the Edgware Road restaurant has a son that suffers from the same thing. Let’s see what the ambulance medics say.”

“Should we try mouth-to-mouth?”

“Honestly, I think we should wait for the professionals, Jeanette. I can hear the ambulance siren now. Where’s James?”

“With his father and stepmother. That’s why I was free to help out at the last minute. Some help, though.”

“Nonsense. You did your best.”

By the time the ambulance arrived, all color had drained from Katie’s face. What Jeanette had told them over the phone had clearly been of great help, because they wheeled in a machine with a hose and translucent mask that they immediately fixed in place over Katie’s nose and mouth. Marcus and Jeanette stood by helplessly as the two medics moved quickly but professionally around Katie.

Before long, with a quick curt nod to her partner, the woman broke away and came over to them. “Good thing you called us when you did. We’ve cleared her airways, so she’s breathing normally again and more importantly getting oxygen to the brain. But she’s not out of the woods. She’s not conscious, so she’ll need to be hospitalized immediately.”

“Of course,” said Marcus.

“Are you the parents?”

“No, we’re friends of the family,” said Marcus, turning to Jeanette.

“Her father had an urgent meeting to attend. But he’ll be on his way back soon.”

At that moment Moira appeared at the doorway, flustered and instantly panicked when she saw the scene. Marcus managed to get to her first.

“She’s okay, Moira. Well, she’s had a severe attack, but she’s breathing again. Just not conscious. Can you try calling Tom? Tell him to meet us at the hospital? I think it might be better coming from you.”

While Moira—as family—went in the ambulance with Katie, Marcus drove himself and Jeanette to the hospital. Although it was only a few minutes away, the journey took longer because of rush-hour traffic, something the ambulance driver with the blaring siren didn’t need to worry about. When they reached the waiting room, Moira sat bolt upright on the plastic chair. Over the past half hour, the poor woman appeared to have aged a decade.

“They’ve taken her into intensive care. Won’t let anyone in until they’re satisfied she’s stable. But those lovely ambulance people were optimistic.”

“Where’s Charlotte, Moira?”

“She’s at her jazz dance class. Mrs. Kelley’s daughter does the same class, so she’s going to take Charlie home with them until I call, bless her.”

Marcus sat with his head in his hands. All thoughts of having words with Tom had evaporated. How close had they been to losing Katie? No way on earth could Tom have coped with that; even the mere thought made Marcus sick to his stomach. For the next ten minutes they all sat around unspeaking. Nobody could find any words worth uttering. Eventually Moira got up and brought back coffee for them all. As she sat down, an anxious calm descended upon the group.

A calm that was short-lived.

“Where the hell is she? Where’s my daughter?” boomed Tom as the doors to the waiting room flew open. All three of them stood on hearing his voice.

“Calm down, dear,” said Moira, going to him. “She’s in the ICU.”

Fortunately a female doctor must have overheard Tom, because she peeled away from a group of orderlies then and went over to him. “Mr. Bradford?”

“Yes. Where’s my daughter?”

“We’re just getting her settled, so I need to ask you to remain here while we do our work. And I also need information from you about her current doctor and her medical history. After that you can go and see her. Are you okay with that?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll get someone to bring over the forms.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” said Moira to Tom and the doctor. “I’ll come with you and fetch them. Give me something to do.”

After watching them head into a small office, Tom swung around and glared at Marcus and Jeanette, his eyes wild with a combination of anger and fear.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he said, raising his voice, his face reddened with rage.

“I did. Your phone was switched off.”

“Tom,” said Marcus, placing a placating hand on his shoulder but having it instantly shrugged away. Tom was wound tight and wanted to vent. “Jeanette did her best.”

“That’s my daughter in there. Fighting for her life.”

Not surprisingly, Jeanette stood in shocked silence, the blood draining from her face. Eventually she shook her head and folded her arms.

“Tom,” said Marcus, a little louder this time. People in the waiting room had begun to look over uncomfortably. Even the attendant at the desk appeared to be deciding whether to call someone to intervene. “Reel it in. Jeanette’s not to blame here. Katie had a bad asthma attack. It could have happened anywhere, at any time.”

“Forty-five minutes I leave her alone,” said Tom, his voice still raised, not letting up. “Less than an hour.”

Marcus had heard enough.

“You want to blame someone, Tom?” he said assertively, placing himself right in front of Tom until the man had to look him in the eyes. “You want to talk about negligence? How about you start with the father.”

“Get out of my face, Marcus.”

“No, I will not. Not this time. You’re not growling your way out of this one. Everyone is doing their level best to help you out, sacrificing their time to make your life just that little bit easier. And this is the thanks Jeanette gets?”

“I’m warning you.”

“You left your daughter, who has a known history of breathing disorders, in the care of someone who is clearly not a medical professional, without giving that person any guidelines or procedures to follow, any numbers to call, any clue of what to do in case of an emergency. You want to blame someone, Tom Bradford? Then why don’t you start with yourself.”

“That’s my family in there, Marcus, my remaining family. They’re all I have left in the world. What does it take for people to understand that?” he said, his eyes welling up.

Tom’s sudden emotion stopped the words What about me? Am I not part of your family? issuing from Marcus’s mouth. While the three of them stood there dazed, Moira shuffled up, a clipboard in one hand. She appeared a little flustered and oblivious of the scene that had unfolded only moments earlier.

“Tom, Katie’s woken up. The doctor’s with her. She’s a little shaken up and wants to see you straightaway. Marcus, do you want to—what’s happened?”

And just like that, Moira sensed the change in atmosphere. Without a glance or another word to the others, Tom sidestepped her and rushed off toward the ICU.

“Nothing, Moira. Go with Tom. I’ll drive Jeanette home.”

“But Katie’ll want to see you too, Marcus.”

Marcus shook his head. “Tomorrow. I’ll drop by tomorrow. Once she’s had a good night’s sleep. She needs her family right now. Go be with her. I’ll go pick up Charlotte.”

But Moira had not finished and turned to Marcus. “Did Tom start something?”

“No, Moira. Tom didn’t start anything. Quite the opposite, actually,” said Marcus, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll call you later to find out how Katie’s doing. Come on, Jeanette. Let’s go.”

Enough.