nodded.
‘So you know it doesn’t hurt at all — in fact, he’s so drowsy he might not even know he’d had it done. Sister will give you directions to that department, and then when we’ve got the result I’ll see you again. All right?’ Handing her the completed request form, he smiled reassuringly. ‘Give this to the receptionist in the ultrasound department.’
Mrs Griffin stood up carefully, cradling William against her chest, and Jennifer showed her out, directed her to Ultrasound and went back in.
‘You found something.’
‘Mmm. A soft mass, nothing specific. Could well be a small section of ileum intruding into the colon. Then again, it might not.’
‘So what else could it be? A tumour?’
‘Could be. Let’s hope not. We won’t know, I don’t suppose, until we open him up. As soon as he comes back I’d like Ross Hamilton down here, I think.’
She nodded. ‘Will do. Who’s next?’
He glanced at the file. ‘The Robinson triplets.’
‘You won’t recognise them. They’re huge!’
He grinned. ‘Good! We could do with a happy ending.’
She called Mr and Mrs Robinson and their three delightful little baby girls, who had been born prematurely at thirty weeks. Now almost five months, they were definitely thriving!
‘Oh, let me help you,’ Jennifer said with a smile, and took one of the babies from the mother. ‘Now, who’s this?’
The mother peered at her. ‘Megan.’
‘Right, come on, Megan, let’s go and see that nice Dr Barrett.’ The baby beamed at her, and made a grab for her pens in the top pocket. ‘Oh, no you don’t!’ she laughed. ‘Come on, madam.’
She led the little group through into Andrew’s consulting-room and watched while he greeted the whole family with his warm enthusiasm. The babies had been in his care since birth, and for a long time their grip on life had seemed fragile to say the least. Then, one by one, they grew stronger, but the smallest, Megan, had still been troubled by a slight chestiness for some time, and Andrew had felt it advisable to monitor them for three months after their discharge. Now, his delight reflected the depth of his concern in their early days.
‘Oh, well, I don’t have to lay a finger on them to tell they’re doing magnificently!’ he said, but nevertheless he inspected each one with great care, and asked endless questions about their developmental progress, feeding problems and so on. Megan’s chest appeared to have resolved itself, and Andrew declared himself well satisfied. ‘I should say they’re only about three weeks behind now, which is excellent! Give them a bit longer and you would never have known. Well, I think we can safely discharge you young ladies from our care now,’ he said to the babies, and they all gurgled on cue.
‘Heartbreakers, all of them,’ he said with a laugh, and, after answering the parents’ last few questions, he showed them out with almost visible reluctance.
‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d grown attached to those little girls,’ Jennifer teased.
‘Me — would I?’ he said innocently. ‘Right, who’s next?
The clinic proceeded without any hitches, and shortly before they finished little William Griffin and his mother returned to the department.
They called Ross Hamilton down, and he arrived just as they dealt with the last patient.
They called Mrs Griffin in after Andrew had filled Ross in on the results to date and examined the ultrasound image. There was an indistinct but abnormal mass shown on the picture, and after examining William Ross agreed with Andrew that it was most likely an intussusception.
They explained the implications to Mrs Griffin, and told her that he would need surgery as soon as was reasonable. Ross glanced at his watch. ‘Well, it’s getting on to do anything today. Can we admit him now and go for tomorrow morning? I’d rather have lab staff around.’
Andrew nodded, understanding his unspoken thoughts. If it proved to be a tumour rather than the loop of bowel tucked inside itself that they thought it was, then they would need biopsies and frozen sections and tissue analysis to determine further treatment. It was important to have the full backup of all necessary staff, and they were more likely to be available during the day. Also, while a minor delay would make no difference at all to William, it would give the parents time to prepare him — and themselves — for the operation and his stay in hospital.
‘Right, Mrs Griffin, can you take him home, give him a light supper and bring him back by seven this evening, and we’ll sort him out tomorrow morning. Is that OK?’
She nodded, and Ross went back to his ward, leaving Mrs Griffin looking worried. ‘Will I be able to stay with him?’
‘Oh, yes — he’s far too young to leave. He’ll need you around, if you can possibly manage it.’
‘How long will he be in?’
‘A few days — a week at the most. Is that a problem?’
She shook her head, and after a few more questions Jennifer gave her a leaflet about the paediatric unit and what she would need to bring, and showed her out. When she went back into Andrew’s office, he was just closing the file.
‘And another week bites the dust,’ he said with weary good humour.
She returned his smile. Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself.’
The clinic secretary tapped on the door and came in. ‘Can I have the files, Dr Barrett?’
‘Sure. Here we are, the last few. I’m admitting William Griffin, so his file needs to go up to the ward.’
‘I’ll pop it in on my way out. Have a good weekend.’
‘Thanks, Janet. You too.’
‘Uh-huh. Bye, Sister. See you on Monday.’
‘No doubt,’ Jennifer said with a little sigh as the door closed behind the secretary. A tiny yawn escaped her, and she laughingly apologised.
‘Tired?’
She nodded. ‘Aren’t I always? Friday’s a killer, isn’t it? The clinic always seems endless.’
‘Never mind, you’ve got the weekend to look forward to.’
‘Mmm.’
‘You don’t sound very convinced.’
She picked up the blanket on the examination couch and refolded it, hugging it against her chest. ‘Oh, I just wish it could be different for once. To have someone say, “Come on, drop everything, I’m going to take you away from it all” — wouldn’t that be wonderful?’
‘Is it really so grim?’
She sighed and put the blanket down. ‘No. Now I’m sounding like a spoilt brat, and I don’t mean to. It’s just that I know that in company with X million other working women I’ll have to clean the flat and do the washing and wrestle with Tim’s homework and repair his uniform, and it would be nice if, just now and again, it could be different…’
Andrew frowned at her. ‘When did you last get away?’
She blinked. ‘Me? Heavens, I don’t remember. Tim went to his father in July for a week, and I had that fortnight off to be with him in August, but I haven’t been away for years.’ She laughed a little self-consciously. ‘I don’t think I’d know how to relax now if I had the chance.’
Andrew stood up slowly and took his jacket off the back of the chair, shrugging into it thoughtfully.
‘What are you doing this weekend?’
She looked up at him, all six foot three of warm brown eyes and gentle