Snowbound With The Single Dad. Laura Iding

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      IT WAS THE middle of the night. The snow had given way to sleet and was currently battering the windows in the old Glasgow hospital.

      Whilst the ward was dark, most of the windows were adorned with festive lights. A Santa, a snowman and a reindeer stood out twinkling against the black night sky outside. A tree with multicoloured lights flickered at the end of the ward, and strings of icicles were hanging from most of the windows outside the ward bays.

      A few little bodies shifted under the starched white hospital sheets and coloured blankets. Almost everyone was sleeping—unusual for a children’s ward—with only a few little murmurs here and there. Alongside most of the beds were chairs and stools with an array of uncomfortable parents trying to catch a few hours’ sleep as they watched over their children.

      Jessica padded along the ward in her soft-soled shoes. She loved Christmas in the children’s ward. Although most people in her circumstances would want to avoid this place, it was actually the one place at this time of year that gave her a little solace.

      There were always people worse off than you.

      Actually, no there weren’t. No parent should outlive their child.

      Here, in the ward, she felt safe. Everyone knew what had happened. No one asked awkward questions. If she needed a few moments on her own, she got them.

      If she needed to be amongst people and in company, it was here.

      If she needed to feel of value, there was no doubt she was needed here. There was always a little one to cuddle. There was always a parent to talk to in the quiet hours of night—to give some kind of explanation, to give some kind of comfort.

      Mostly, she just liked to watch the kids sleeping.

      There was nothing more comforting than watching a child sleep.

      Tonight she was watching Grace Flynn, a seven-year-old with a rare form of aggressive bowel cancer. She’d had her tumours operated on twice.

      Grace was a beautiful child. She wanted to be a ballerina, or an air hostess, or a teacher. She changed her mind every day. But she was becoming frailer and frailer with every visit. The chemotherapy and radiotherapy were having ravaging effects on her body. The surgeries were taking their toll. The battle was becoming harder and harder.

      So tonight she was taking a little pleasure in watching Grace sleep. Watching the rise and fall of her little chest.

      Moments like this always pained her. What was worse? Your child dying suddenly, with no chance to say goodbye, or dying slowly, painfully right before your eyes?

      Her brain couldn’t even begin to compare those issues. All she knew was that she would do everything in her power to help Grace and her parents.

      Hopefully Grace would be able to be discharged home with her family tomorrow and get to spend Christmas at home.

      She would love that. She might be the model patient but she always had a smile on her face when she was discharged home.

      Jessica walked down the corridor, watching the twinkling lights on the windows and appreciating the stillness of the ward.

      It wasn’t always quiet in here. Some nights it went like a fair. Some nights she didn’t even see the inside of her on-call room. Then there were other nights like tonight.

      She sat down at the nurses’ station and tapped a few keys on the computer, bringing up the file of one of the kids admitted earlier. She would never have been able to sleep anyway.

      Images of Callum were currently swimming around in her brain.

      It was the oddest of feelings.

      Because she didn’t know how she felt.

      For the last few years she’d been sad. She’d worked hard to put one foot in front of the other and try and come out the other side. And now she finally felt as if she’d reached a plateau.

      She didn’t cry non-stop any more. She didn’t spend every day wishing she didn’t need to get out of bed. She wasn’t insanely jealous of every woman pushing a stroller in the street.

      Oh, she still had moments when things crept up on her and caught her unawares. When she needed a few minutes to gather herself or to wipe the stray tear that appeared on her face.

      But things had eased. It was still the first thing she thought about every morning and the last thing she thought about at night. But it didn’t fill her every waking moment of the day any more. She’d allowed herself to think about other things. To care a little about other things.

      And work was her biggest comfort. It helped her tick along. It gave her a sense of purpose. A little confidence that she did have a life worth living.

      Then something like this happened.

      A blast from the past, totally unexpected. Totally unprepared for.

      Callum was evoking a whole host of memories. Most of which were good. Some of which were distinctly edged with tinges of pink—the way all teenage first-love memories were.

      It was a little unsettling. Not just seeing Callum but the whole host of what-ifs that had her flooded her mind afterwards—some of which had permeated her dreams.

      What if she’d married Callum? What would her life have been like? Would they still have been together after all this time?

      She tried to push the thoughts away. It felt disloyal. Disloyal to the memory of her husband, Daniel, and her little boy, Lewis.

      Daniel had been the love of her life. She’d been blissfully happy. she’d thought they’d grow old together. She’d expected them to grow old together.

      But as much as she’d loved Daniel, the loss of Lewis was even worse. As if someone had ripped her heart right out of her chest and squeezed it until every last drop of blood was gone.

      The pain had almost killed her.

      Maybe that was why her brain was drifting into unchartered territories. If she’d stayed with Callum, Daniel and Lewis would never have featured in her life.

      She would never have suffered such torment and hurt at their loss. She wouldn’t have found herself wondering if she wanted to go on. To live a life without them.

      Maybe Callum was a safe memory.

      She opened her eyes, looking around to see if anyone had noticed her hunched over the keyboard. Two of the nurses were standing at the door of one of the rooms but they hadn’t noticed a thing.

      Her pager sounded and she was on her feet instantly. ITU. She had three kids in there right now. The baby with chickenpox СКАЧАТЬ