brought his sick son to see you.’ She emphasised the word strongly. ‘Even though he knew that might make you mad. Even though he knew you might have a thousand questions. It was more important that he thought about the health of his child and—after seeing you in action—brought him to see a doctor he trusted with the health of his son. Doesn’t that tell you what you need to know?’
Jessica flopped her head back into her hands. Someone else saying the words out loud made it all seem so much more straightforward. So much simpler.
She felt Pauline’s hand on her back. ‘Jess, what is it that you want?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, what are you ready for? I thought it was time for you—time to take some steps and move on. Callum seemed like a good idea. But maybe he’s got as much baggage as you do.’
‘And if he does?’
Pauline rolled her eyes. ‘You need to think about this, Jessica. What do you want?’ She pointed to the flowers. ‘Are you ready to accept Callum’s apology and whatever else that might mean?’
‘I don’t know. I mean I’m not sure. I was hurt that he didn’t tell me about his son.’
‘And what about Drew?’
‘What do you mean?’
Pauline moved her hand to her shoulder. ‘Look at me, Jess. I’m going to ask a hard question. How do you feel about having a relationship with someone who has a son?’
Jess’s head landed back on the desk. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I really don’t know. Drew’s lovely. He’s a great little boy. I’ve spent a little time with him on the surgical ward. He’s made a good recovery and he’s ready for discharge.’
‘Is he ready for you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you and Callum actually talk to each other? Where’s Drew’s mother? She hasn’t been to visit. She isn’t named on the consent form.’ Pauline dropped her voice and said almost hesitantly, ‘Is she dead?’
‘No. I don’t think so. When I asked Callum to sign the consent he said something about Drew’s mother being in America and him having full custody. I’m not really sure what happened there. I know she’s been on the phone to the ward staff a few times every day.’
‘Ah, so there’s no other woman to get in the way?’
‘Pauline!’
She smiled at Jessica. ‘So what? I’m being a little mercenary. I have a friend to think about.’
Jessica’s eyes drifted over to the flowers. They were beautiful and the irony of the blooms wasn’t lost on her. Gerberas were her favourite flowers—had been for years. She was surprised that Callum had even remembered that, but there was something nice about the fact that he had.
She stood up quickly. ‘I need to go for a few minutes.’ She looked about the unit. ‘Is everything okay in here? Do you need me to see anyone before I go?’
Pauline shook her head. ‘Everything’s fine and, don’t worry, I’ll look after your flowers for you.’
Jessica rolled her eyes and hurried down the corridor. She glanced at her watch. Although the hospital allowed parents to stay with their children at all times, most parents went away for an hour or so each day to freshen up and change their clothes.
The surgical ward had been a no-go area for the last few days. Callum was there constantly with His son. Just as she would have expected.
She’d had to review Drew a few times every day. His recovery was going well and it was likely she would discharge him today.
But every time she’d been anywhere in the vicinity Callum had tried to speak to her. She’d fobbed him off as best she could. The flowers were the biggest message yet that he was determined to apologise and pursue this.
She just wasn’t sure how she felt.
Her stomach churned as she walked down the ward. It was ridiculous. She spent all day, every day in the presence of kids. Why on earth would this little boy be any different?
Because he was Callum’s.
Because this could be something entirely different.
If only she could be ready for it.
Drew had a little DVD player on his lap and was watching the latest Disney movie. Although he had his clothes on, the curtains were pulled around his bed and lights in the room dimmed. Most children who’d undergone an anaesthetic took a few days to recover fully. A nap time in the afternoon was common—and when most of the parents took their chance to go home, shower and change.
‘Hi, Drew.’ Jessica took the opportunity to sit down next to his bed. ‘What are you watching?’
He turned the screen around to show her. She nodded in approval.
‘So, how are you feeling?’
‘I’m good. When can I go back to mini-kickers?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Is that some kind of football?’
He nodded. ‘I go every week with my friend Joe. I love mini-kickers. It’s my favourite.’
‘Well, we can’t have you missing your favourite for long. Lie back and let me have a little look at your tummy.’
His wound was healing well. The edges were sealed and there was no sign of infection.
‘This is looking great, Drew. The stitches that I used will disappear on their own. But you also have some stitches inside your tummy and if you do too much, too quickly, then it can hurt.’
‘Tomorrow?’ He was serious. His little face was watching her closely.
So this was how a five-year-old boy thought. Couldn’t see past the football. There was something so endearing about that.
She laughed. ‘No. Not tomorrow. Maybe two weeks—if you’re feeling okay. Do you like school? Because if you do, it will be all right to go back to school next week.’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘School’s okay. I like school dinner. Mrs Brown makes the best custard.’ He leant forward and whispered in her ear. ‘The custard here isn’t nearly as good.’
‘Really? I always thought the custard here was quite good.’
He shook his head and gave her a look of disgust. ‘Oh, no. Mrs Brown’s custard is much better.’
He was a lovely little boy, with Callum’s searing green eyes and a real determined edge about him. They were so alike she could have picked him out from a room filled with a hundred kids.
‘What’s your favourite subject at school?’
It was something that preyed on her mind from time to time. She’d often wondered what her own son would have enjoyed most at school.
‘Dinosaurs or volcanoes.’ Drew was absolutely definite about what he liked. He tilted his head to one side. ‘And I quite like the sticky tray.’
‘The sticky tray? What’s that?’
‘For making things. I was making a Christmas card for my dad a few days ago at school. I’ve picked blue card and I was sticking a snowman on the front.’
‘Ah.’ Jess gave a smile. ‘What were you using for the snowman? Was it some cotton wool—like the kind we have in here?’
‘Yes. It got kind of messy. the glue stuck to my hands and then the cotton wool got all puffy.’ His face was all screwed up, as if he was remembering the mess he’d made.
Jessica leaned across the bed. ‘It doesn’t matter if you made a mess. I’m sure your dad will love it.’
‘But