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If he died, how was she going to help Maggie, who looked not much stronger herself? It was probably only fear and the need to believe she was doing something that kept her upright on her feet, albeit swaying a little. Hester would have suggested the child slept for a while, but she knew that if Charlie died when she was not there, the guilt would be with her for ever. It made no sense, but she would believe that she could have done something. In her place Hester would have felt the same.

‘How old is Mike?’ she asked quietly.

‘Four,’ Maggie replied. ‘’E’s not so bad. Maybe ’e’ll get worse when ’e’s older.’

‘Maybe not. Do they put the needles into him, too?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded.

‘And you?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded again. ‘But mostly Charlie. Can’t you do summink, miss?’

Hester still had little idea what was wrong with any of them. A misjudged treatment could be lethal. There was a stage in an illness when there was nothing more anyone could do. A small boy could take only so much ‘treatment’.

‘What is the doctor doing to help him? Tell me all you know, Maggie. I need to do the right thing for him.’

The tears spilled over and ran down Maggie’s cheeks. ‘’E don’t do nothing, miss. ’E comes and puts a needle into Charlie, an’ ’e gets sleepy an’ sick. ’E just lies there. Can’t even

speak ter me an’ Mike. Please, miss . . .’

Hester knew that Dr Rand went home at night. Everyone had to sleep, but there was a senior nurse on duty all night. Where was she? Sometimes there were emergencies that only a doctor could deal with, and a messenger would have to be sent to waken him. Then the doctor would walk, or even run, the half-mile or so from his home. But this was a hospital for those who were extremely ill, or so badly wounded that often there was nothing that could be done for them, except ease their distress, or at the very least, not leave them to die alone.

That was all too often what military nursing had been during the Crimean War, not so very long ago. Haemorrhage, gangrene, raging fever – these were things Hester had been used to coping with because scores of men, even hundreds, were wounded in battle. There were too few doctors, and usually too little time. That was one of the reasons the two Rand brothers, Dr Magnus Rand and his elder brother, a chemist, Hamilton Rand, had been so pleased to have Hester, another Crimea nurse, fill in for Jenny Solway. Her experience was of great value.

Where on earth was the nurse in charge here? Hester did not dare leave Charlie to go to look for her. Maybe she was ill herself. Or passed out drunk somewhere. It had been known to happen.

‘Do you know what his illness is called?’ Hester asked Maggie.

Maggie shook her head.

‘Do you have the same illness?’ Hester persisted.

Maggie nodded.

‘What does the doctor do for you?’

There was little time. In the bed beside them Charlie was lying motionless, his face white, and his breathing shallow. But Hester had to find out all that Maggie could tell her before she attempted to help. A mistake would almost certainly be irrevocable.

‘Maggie?’ she prompted.

‘’E pricked me wi’ the needle, too.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It hurt something awful.’

‘Do you know what was in the little bottle at the end of the needle?’ Hester asked. ‘What colour was it?’

Maggie shook her head. ‘I didn’t want ter look, an’ ’e told me not ter, but I did, just quick. I think it were blood.’

Hester felt a chill run through her. So Magnus was taking blood. What for? Was Hamilton Rand testing it for something? He was a brilliant chemist, almost visionary in some ways. What was he learning from these children’s blood?

Maggie was staring at her, waiting, her eyes full of hope.

‘Get me another cup of water,’ Hester said to her. ‘Please.’

Maggie turned and went immediately. Finally there was something she could do to help.

Hester leaned forward and pushed the sleeve up a little on Charlie’s thin arm. She took the skin between her finger and thumb. It lifted away as if there were no flesh over the bone. At least she knew something to start with. ‘When did you last go to a bathroom to pee?’ she asked.

He seemed a little embarrassed. ‘Long time ago.’


Tags: Anne Perry William Monk Mystery