Carol Marinelli - Christmas On The Children's Ward

‘Nothing.’

‘It didn’t sound like nothing. What did you mean?’

‘Just that things have changed lately,’ Eden admitted. ‘Sometimes I feel as if I hardly know you any more.’

‘You’re being daft.’ Nick grinned.

‘Perhaps I am, but take it from me, what Tanya feels isn’t merely friendly, so tread carefully. Anyway, enough already about your love life, Nick. I’d better get back out there. I can hear the meal trolley coming and I’ve a feeling someone’s about to kick up a fuss when they find out I swapped her order.’

‘Priscilla?’ Nick checked almost needlessly, referring to a nine-year-old with a penchant for chicken nuggets. ‘I’m going to have to speak to her mother again.’

‘Well, tread carefully,’ Eden warned. ‘Remember that she’s a high-profile lawyer.’

‘So maybe she’ll appreciate some straight talking,’ Nick countered. ‘Hell, we’re so bogged down in politically correct jargon these days, so terrified of being sued, it’s a wonder anything useful gets done in this place; Priscilla’s a great kid, but unless someone spells it out to Rose, unless someone actually sits that woman down and tells her to stop feeding her kid rubbish, we may as well send her daughter home with a packet of cholesterol-lowering pills and a post-dated referral to a psychologist to deal with the issues of bullying.’

Eden shot him a worried look but, as politically incorrect as Nick could be at times, more often than not his straight talking hit the nail on the head.

‘The other kids are starting to tease her.’

‘If I were nine, I’d tease her,’ Nick moaned, and thankfully he wasn’t looking so he didn’t see a tiny smile flash on her lips as she pictured Nick Watson as a cheeky blond nine-year-old. ‘What the hell is Rose doing, calling her Princess in front of the other kids?’

‘It’s her pet name.’

‘Then she should save it for home. Are you going to do it?’ Nick added as she headed for the door. ‘Work Christmas, I mean?’

‘It looks that way,’ Eden sighed.

‘You need a baby of your own,’ Nick said with another grin, and Eden gave a wry smile back.

‘It’s probably the only way I can guarantee getting next Christmas off—I’d better step on it.’

‘You’d better,’ Nick responded dryly. ‘Given that they take nine months…’

‘I was referring to work, Nick,’ Eden said.

PRISCILLA, or Princess as her mother called her, was in for investigation into her recurrent constipation and abdominal pain, which had culminated in many trips to her local GP and a lot of absences from school. As a private patient, initially her mother had demanded a single room for her daughter, but thankfully Nick had been able to persuade Rose that her daughter would benefit from being among her peers, and after a rather prolonged negotiation Rose had finally agreed.

Even though she was in a public ward, Priscilla still demanded private patient attention, pressing the call bell incessantly, complaining loudly about the food and the lack of her own television—to the amusement of her fellow patients, who were starting to tease the little girl and calling her by her nickname of Princess, though not in the affectionate way her mother delivered it.

As annoying as Priscilla could be, as demanding as she was, despite the other nurses’ grumbles when allocated to look after her, Eden actually enjoyed looking after the spoilt little girl. Fiercely intelligent, she had a wry sense of humour. Very pretty, she was also very overweight and had her exhausted working single mother wrapped around her rather podgy little fingers. She was completely used to getting her own way—and quickly, please! Since she’d discovered that the call bell by her bed summoned attention quickly, Priscilla was abusing it to the max, despite the fact she wasn’t on bed rest. However, before Eden again explained that fact, first she had to be sure that there was nothing wrong with the little girl.

‘What’s the problem, Priscilla?’ Eden asked, smiling as she made her way over to the bed.

‘This isn’t the dinner I ordered.’ Frowning down at her plate, Priscilla stabbed at a defenceless piece of roast chicken and vegetables. ‘Mummy ticked the chicken nuggets for me—look.’ She held out the menu card for Eden, but Eden didn’t need to read it to know what was on it.

‘You had nuggets for dinner last night,’ Eden explained patiently, ‘and the previous night as well.’

‘Because I like nuggets.’

‘Do you remember that Dr Nick said you were to have more variety in your diet? Well, instead of having chicken nuggets, why not try having some roast chicken and some of the lovely vegetables?’

‘I don’t like vegetables.’ Priscilla pouted, her bottom lip wobbling, tears filling her big blue eyes, and Eden was grateful that Priscilla’s mother wasn’t there because it was at about this point that Priscilla was used to adults giving in. But Eden stood her ground, undoing the little pack of fruit juice and pouring some out for Priscilla.

‘When Mummy comes I’ll tell her to go and get me some nuggets from the take-away.’

‘You’re going to turn into a nugget one of these days.’ Nick was there, ruffling Priscilla’s hair, grinning broadly and completely ignoring her tears. ‘I told Eden that you were going to eat some veggies for me tonight, Priscilla. Now, you’re not going to make me look silly, are you?’

‘I hate veggies,’ Priscilla snarled, slamming down her knife and fork with a clatter that alerted her fellow patients to the start of yet another of Priscilla’s rather too frequent dramas.

‘Come on Princess, eat your veggies,’ Rory, a cheeky ten-year-old with his leg in traction, called out.

‘Yeah, come on, Princess,’ Declan, a five-year-old post-tonsillectomy patient chimed in.

‘Cut it out, guys,’ Eden warned, pulling the curtains and shutting out the delighted audience while Nick stood firm with his patient.

‘Roast chicken and vegetables are what’s for dinner tonight—’ He didn’t finish. Priscilla’s meal tray crashing loudly to the floor, courtesy of a flash of temper, interrupted the conversation. Her angry face stared defiantly at both Eden and Nick, awaiting their reaction as a few cheers erupted from the other side of the curtains.

‘Whoops,’ Nick said calmly, which clearly wasn’t the reaction Priscilla had been expecting. Her angry face puckered into a frown, her expression changing from fury to utter indignation as Nick calmly continued talking. ‘Not to worry. Accidents happen. Eden can ring down to the canteen and order you another dinner.’

The tears started again, angry furious tears, her pretty face purple with rage.

‘Do you need a hand?’ Becky asked, arriving with the mop and bucket as Eden picked the remains of the meal off the floor. ‘Her mother has just arrived,’ she added in a low tone to Nick as she bent down to help Eden.

‘What’s going on?’ Rose Tarrington clipped into the ward on smart high heels, her petite frame in an expensive chocolate brown suit, well made-up eyes frowning as she pulled open the curtains and surveyed the mess.

‘Priscilla knocked over her dinner,’ Nick responded calmly. ‘Sister’s just going to order her another one.’

‘But she won’t eat that.’ Rose pointed a manicured finger at the messy remains. ‘I know you want her to have some variety, but you can hardly expect her to suddenly start eating roast meat and vegetables overnight!’

‘The other children are,’ Nick broke in, staring around the ward at the other three children, all eating their dinners.

‘Look, Princess.’ Rose made her way over to her daughter’s bedside and cuddled the distraught child. ‘Why don’t you do as the doctor and nurses say? Eat your dinner and then, if you do, I’ll go over the road and get you some ice cream.’