Keeping Secrets (41 page)

‘Fool,' she said aloud, not sure if she was talking to Anya or herself. She paced up and down, rocking Sam back and forth. He sucked at her for comfort, then cried again.

An hour later, the doctor still had not arrived. By now Sam was almost hysterical, and so was she. In a moment of desperation she thought of calling an ambulance, and remembered, going cold, that the ambulance staff were still on strike. Surely someone would come, a police ambulance or something? No, no, she wasn't going to do that; perhaps she should take him to hospital herself. She carried him over to the window and looked out: it was black and cold and raining, she'd have to bundle him up and drive, with him screaming, and probably wait in casualty for an hour. By that time the doctor would be here.

Sam's face was burning – why, why, why had she never bought a baby thermometer? She just hadn't, that's all, he'd always been so well and she'd never thought of it. Why hadn't somebody told her – why hadn't Alice told her? Anyway, she didn't need one to know it was far too high. She took him to the bathroom and sponged his face with a cold flannel, and he screamed. Shouldn't she have done that? What happened to babies with very high fevers – was it really dangerous? As if a red warning light had flashed on, she suddenly thought: convulsions. That's what happens, they have fits. Oh, Christ.

She went back to the sitting room, and dialled Alice's number.

‘Hello?' a sleepy croak.

‘Tony!' She was almost in tears.

‘What…'

‘It's me, it's Hilda, Sam's terribly ill, I've called the doctor but he hasn't come, and Anya's away, and he's got such a high temperature … I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please can Alice come over, I just don't know what to do …'

‘Ssh, ssh!' Tony sounded as if he were talking to a wounded animal. ‘Listen. Hilda? Can you hear me?'

‘Hang on.' She put Sam down on the floor and blocked her ear. ‘Yes?'

‘Alice can't come, she's just getting over 'flu and now Hettie's got it.'

‘Oh, no. Oh, no.'

‘Ssh! I'll come, all right?'

‘Oh, Tony … I'm sorry … I just didn't know who else to ring, I mean you're my family, aren't you? You're all Sam's family …'

‘Of course we are, of course. Calm down, I'm coming. Have you tried giving him Calpol?'

She began to shriek, banging the desk with her hand. ‘There isn't any Calpol! His temperature's sky high, that's why I'm phoning! For God's sake bring some, all right?'

‘Okay, okay. I'm coming now. Sponge him down with tepid water.'

He put down the phone and Hilda picked up Sam. ‘Tepid, he said tepid. Come on, let's go back to the bathroom.'

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell. She put Sam in his cot, flew down the stairs, and heaved at the bolts on the door. Tony, in coat and pyjamas, his hair in tousled wisps, stood on the doorstep and held out a bottle of Calpol. She flung herself into his arms.

‘Poor Hilda, dear, dear. Come on, there we are.' He pushed up his glasses and shepherded her inside, closing the door behind them. ‘Upstairs?'

‘Yes, he's in his cot. I don't know what's wrong with him, I thought he might be going to have a fit…'

‘Come on, then, up we go. Yes, I can hear him, poor old Sam. Still, when they're crying you know they're all right, in a way. It's when it all goes quiet you have to worry.' His arm was round her shoulders as they climbed the stairs.

‘You should've been a doctor,' she mumbled.

‘I am a doctor, didn't you know?' They had reached her open door and he held it wide for her, she stumbled up the steps to the sitting room and through to Sam, lifting him out of his cot.

‘Here we are, here we are, here's your medicine.' She fumbled at the childproof cap, and poured out the sticky sweet syrup into the plastic spoon. Behind her, Tony had taken off his coat and followed her into the room. ‘Here, Sam,' she said, ‘come on, you have it.' His fist swung up and hit the teaspoon; Calpol flew everywhere. ‘Sa-am!' Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

‘All right, I'll get it.' Tony went out again, running down the stairs; she sat on the bed with Sam on her lap and Calpol in her hair, his hair, in thick shining droplets all over the duvet, and waited for other people to do things.

‘So. This is the patient.'

Dr Srivasti, inches shorter than Tony, came into the room with his black bag, smiling broadly. ‘You have been giving him Calpol? Let's have a look at him.' He put down the bag on the bed, snapping it open; Hilda held Sam while he took his temperature, and inspected his ears with a tiny light. ‘Keep still, old chap, if Mum can just turn your head … lovely. Now I can see all the way through to the other side! Bit of an infection here, yes.' He switched off his instrument and stood up. ‘I will give you an antibiotic powder for tonight, and a prescription for tomorrow. And we must bring this fever down – how much of the Calpol are you giving him?'

‘Nothing yet.' Hilda held out the spoon, and waved weakly at the bottle on her bedside table, gesturing at the mess. ‘Please … could you … I've had it.'

‘Here we are,' said Tony, coming into the room with two cups of tea. He looked at the doctor inquiringly. ‘Would you.'

‘No, no, it is very kind but I am already awash.' Dr Srivasti spooned Calpol deftly into Sam's protesting mouth and put the bottle back on the table. ‘I have been telling your wife, this chap has an ear infection, nothing too serious but it is as well you called me. Now …' He gave Hilda a little packet of powder. ‘If you just mix this up with water, according to the instructions …'

‘Thank you.' She passed Sam to Tony and took the packet out to the kitchen, from where she could hear the doctor saying:

‘I will write out the prescription, and then we are all done.' A pause. ‘What is your son's name again?'

‘Er – Sam,' said Tony. ‘Sam King. He's not actually my son … oh, never mind.'

Hilda mixed up the medicine in a glass; it smelt of synthetic banana. She took it back to the bedroom, where the doctor was shutting his bag again, preparing to leave.

‘Thank you so much for coming.'

‘It is no trouble. I hope you all have a comfortable night.' He looked at her, standing there in her pyjamas with the glass in her ringless hand. Over his head, holding Sam, Tony winked at her.

‘Do you want to take him, and I'll see Dr Srivasti downstairs?'

‘No need, it is no problem.' And the doctor was hurrying out, and down the carpeted stairs, banging the front door. They looked at each other and began to laugh.

‘He must have thought … God knows what he thought …'

‘I did think about telling him, but it hardly seemed worth it.'

‘No, no, of course you shouldn't have, he's only a locum, it's none of his business.' Hilda leaned against the door. ‘Do you think you could give Sam his medicine?'

‘Sure. Come on, Sam, what a time you're having. Here we go.' He spooned the medicine down him, and kissed the top of his head.

Hilda watched him. ‘Did you ever want a son?'

Tony shrugged. ‘You love what you have, don't you? It might have been nice, but … One thing I do know, I certainly don't want any more.'

‘What about Alice?'

‘She does, she'd like dozens, it's a bone of contention. Now, then, what are we going to do with this boy?'

‘I'll get him off to sleep,' she said, ‘it shouldn't take long now.' She took him back, rocking him gently, yawning. ‘Oh, Sam. What a night, eh?'

‘I'll leave you to it,' said Tony. ‘Where did I put my coat?'

‘Oh, please,' said Hilda. ‘Please don't go. Could you stay just for a bit?' She looked at him pleadingly. ‘Just so I can unwind with an adult for five minutes? Is that terribly selfish?'

‘No, of course it isn't, it was thoughtless of me. Go on, you get him off, and I'll have a sit down or something. I don't suppose you've got any hot chocolate?'

‘I have. Anya bought it, when I had'flu.'

Fifteen minutes later Sam was deeply asleep in his cot and they were drinking hot chocolate in the sitting room, Hilda on the sofa, Tony in the armchair.

‘Thank you so much for coming,' she said. ‘I'm really sorry – I wouldn't have rung if I hadn't been desperate.'

‘I know.' He stirred his cup slowly. ‘Where's Anya this weekend?'

‘In Brighton, with her daughter. She's got'flu. She's a terrible dragon, the daughter, she frightens me to death.'

‘Really?' Tony raised an eyebrow. ‘That's hard to imagine.'

‘Is it? Am I such a dragon myself?'

‘Sometimes. Alice thinks so, anyway.'

‘Oh, don't be ridiculous, how can she?'

‘Just – you're very capable, determined. Aren't you? Look at the way you've gone back to work, running a department, looking after Sam …'

‘Oh, yes,' she said, gesturing at the room, full of Saturday's untidiness: Sam's toys, baby clothes on the radiators, papers and coffee cups piled on her desk. ‘I'm very capable. Look what happened tonight – if you hadn't come I don't know what I'd have done.'

‘Yes, but it's different, with babies. Everyone needs a hand then.'

‘Yes.' There was a silence, full of things unspoken. ‘I don't know what I'd have done without Anya, either,' she said. ‘When I had 'flu, I mean. How's Alice? I'm sorry – perhaps I gave it to her over Christmas.'

‘It's all over the place, isn't it? Half the office is off. Alice is on the mend, but it's not so easy, having to look after the children before you're properly better – I took time off the first couple of days, but then I had to get back. Hettie's a bit miserable – I expect Annie and I'll be next.'

‘I hope not.'

‘So do I, I'm up to here.' He stretched, yawning, and put down his mug. ‘That was very nice.'

‘You made it.'

‘So I did.' He smiled, shaking his head. ‘I must be worse than I thought.'

‘What have you got on at the moment, then?'

‘Oh, I don't know, endless human misery. And these lectures, remember? Juveniles and the criminal justice system.' He yawned again. ‘I've got two coming up in February: one on police procedure, one on new developments in social security law.'

‘You've made quite a name for yourself, haven't you?'

He shrugged. ‘I didn't set out to.'

‘Perhaps you should come and talk to some of my students one day. Some of them are living rough with the benefit cuts, you know. Quite a few have brushes with the police. Would you come?'

‘Okay, perhaps. At least it would be close to home – Alice doesn't like it when I'm away so much. I've got to go to Norwich and York for these two.'

‘Norwich. You mean University of East Anglia.'

‘The law school, yes.'

‘That's where Stephen is,' she said slowly. ‘I mean, not Norwich, but about twenty miles outside. How strange.'

‘Where do they – sorry, where does he live exactly?'

‘Woodburgh. Well, near a village outside, actually, but Woodburgh's the nearest place anyone's ever heard of. That's where his wife has her shop.'

‘Shop?'

‘She sells curtains or something. Miriam Knowles, Interiors. I don't know what she does exactly, it all sounds terribly twee. She does that, and Stephen does his thing in a studio at the bottom of the garden, and they hate each other. At least, I assume they do. They're supposed to have stayed together for Jonathan, their son. Perhaps all this silence means they're making a go of it, that'd be nice, wouldn't it?' She gave a false little laugh. ‘Perhaps you should go and call on him, tell him how I'm getting on in all these crises.' Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh dear, I'm always weeping all over you.'

‘Hilda.'

‘What?' She reached for the box of tissues, and blew her nose.

‘What's happening? You haven't told us anything for such a long time.'

‘You haven't asked.'

‘We don't like to pry, that's all.' He hesitated. ‘We – I – I do realise it must be tough.'

‘Thanks.' She wiped her eyes. ‘It wouldn't be so bad if … if everything was all right between Stephen and me. But it all seems to have gone haywire. Apparently his wife knows now, since Christmas, and I think she must have given him the push, but he hasn't properly told me, and he doesn't ring me, or write, and half the time I don't even know where he
is!
' She was starting to cry again. ‘
Shit!
Sorry.' She fumbled for the tissues.

‘Poor Hilda, what a mess.' Tony sat watching her, rubbing his face. ‘I'd come and give you a hug, but you'd probably cry even more.'

She nodded, unable to speak, and blew her nose again, smiling shakily. ‘As you so rightly say, what a mess. What the hell am I going to do?'

He shook his head, considering. ‘I don't suppose … I don't suppose you'd like me to talk to him?'

‘Oh, God, no. Thanks, but no. He'd hate it, I know he would. I think I'll just have to sweat it out.' She sat screwing wet tissues in her hand, looking down at the floor. ‘If he doesn't get in touch next week, then I'll … what'll I do?' She looked up, and they both began to laugh again. ‘This could go on all night.'

‘Yes,' said Tony, ‘and I should be getting back.' He got up, shaking his head again. ‘I'll have a think, okay?'

‘Thanks. There's nothing you can do, but thanks.' Hilda looked up at him, such a dear man, so easy to be with, to talk to. You could say anything to Tony.

And now he was going. She sat watching him look round the room for his coat, thinking: I am going to go to bed and wake up feeling half dead, with the whole of Sunday to get through by myself, with Sam miserable and unwell. To while away the time I can go and see Jane and Don, and sit in their kitchen and walk in the park with them while they hold hands, and then I'll come back to an empty house, with no one to talk to until an old woman comes home and tells me about her sick daughter. I‘ll go mad. If I have too many weekends like this they'll have to put me away. I can't bear it. I can't bear him to go.