Christmas On The Children's Ward

‘SHE’LL never agree.’ Becky shook her head as Eden wrestled with six feet four of hulking pine tree, dragging the beast the length of the nurses’ station then levering it up to its full height. ‘Donna always has it on the far side of the nurses’ station.’

‘Where no one can see it,’ Eden retorted.

‘Where it doesn’t get in the way,’ Becky countered with a grin. ‘She’ll have a fit when she sees that you’ve moved it.’

‘Then she shouldn’t have asked me to sort out the Christmas decorations, “given that the ward’s so quiet”.’ Eden’s rather purse-lipped impression of her senior rapidly faded as Becky gave a quick cough and started shuffling a pile of papers in front of her. Eden sucked in her breath as Donna Adams arrived at the nurses’ station with a mountain of empty boxes. She was clearly not in the least impressed with what she was seeing.

‘What, may I ask, is the tree doing there, Sister?’

‘I thought it was more visible,’ Eden attempted. ‘That more of the children would be able to see it from their beds.’

‘It’s in the way,’ Donna clipped. ‘This is a hospital, Eden, not the local shopping centre. If, or rather when, there’s an emergency the staff have enough to deal with, without manoeuvring crash carts around a blessed tree.’

‘But there’s plenty of room.’ Eden stood firm, determined not to back down, determined for once in her life to stand up to Donna. ‘I’ve measured it. And, yes, this is a hospital, but it’s also a children’s ward—’

‘Nice tree!’ Nick announced, depositing a mug of coffee and smothering a yawn, clearly oblivious to the argument that was taking place. ‘When are the decorations going up?’

‘Once Sister Hadley moves it back to the other side of the nurses’ station,’ Donna said tartly, and as Nick’s eyes darted between the two women, Eden saw a twist of a smile on his lips as he picked up on the tension. ‘I was just explaining that the reason we keep it at the far side of the table is that in the event of an emergency we need to be able to manoeuvre the trolleys—’

‘There’s plenty of room,’ Nick broke in. ‘They’re not supermarket trolleys, Donna, we do have some control over them.’

‘But the patient files are kept there.’

‘Then move them,’ Nick responded. ‘It’s much better here—more of the kids can see it.’

Given that Nick was the consultant, the argument was effectively over, but Donna wasn’t particularly gracious in defeat, thrusting a pile of empty boxes in Eden’s direction. ‘You can wrap these for under the tree, and I do not want to come in tomorrow morning to mountains of tinsel and fake snow over all my windows and plastic Santas stuck to the wall. Could we try and aim for tasteful?’

‘Children and tasteful don’t exactly mix,’ Eden muttered, but only when Donna was safely halfway down the corridor and heading for home! ‘What is her problem?’

‘She just likes to remind everyone she’s the boss,’ Nick answered, scribbling furiously on some notes and not looking up as he spoke. ‘She’s a honey really.’

‘Only because you’re the real boss.’ Becky grinned, leaning over and peering down the corridor to make sure Donna really had left before rummaging in her wicker basket under the desk. She pulled out a container and shovelled a delectable-looking slice of cake on a paper towel and placed it beside Nick’s mug. ‘Here you go, Nick, have some chocolate cake with your coffee. ‘Eden?’ she offered, but Eden shook her head.

‘Not for me, thanks. I’d better get on with this tree, given that I’m going to be seeing so much of it.’

‘Oh, Eden, I am sorry about that, but it wasn’t just for me that I said no.’

‘I know,’ Eden admitted. ‘It’s hardly fair on Conner as you worked last year.’

‘It’s not just Conner who’d be upset.’ Becky let out a low sigh. ‘I don’t think Hamish would have taken it too well if I’d had to tell him that I was going to be working. Believe me, his tantrums lately are worse than anything Conner can pull off.’

Eden carried on listening to Becky’s woes as she climbed onto a footstool, unraveling a bundle of fairy lights as she did so. She felt horribly self-conscious all of a sudden, acutely aware of Nick just a few metres away. Not that he was paying any attention, Eden consoled herself, tugging down her dress with one hand as she reached up to the top of the tree with the other and started draping the lights—he was too wrapped up in his notes.

‘You should check them first.’ Nick’s voice caught her unawares and she swung around too quickly, embarrassed but grateful that, almost like a reflex action, he reached out his arm to steady her. ‘Careful, Eden,’ he warned, and Eden was grateful for the semi-darkness, which meant that Nick couldn’t see her blushing, which she was—furiously. His fingers tightened around her wrist. ‘Do you want me to do it?’

‘Do what?’ Eden blinked, her mind having wandered well away from the subject.

‘To check the lights for you,’ Nick explained patiently. ‘Before you go to all the trouble of decorating the tree, first you ought to plug them in to make sure they’re working.’

‘Oh, Nick!’ Eden simpered. ‘What on earth would we do without you?’

‘That’s why he’s a doctor,’ Becky said in a proud, village-idiot type of voice, and Nick started to realize he was being teased. ‘Because he’s so clever.’

‘I was only trying to help.’ Nick moaned, finally getting around to his coffee and cake. ‘I’ll keep my mouth shut next time.’

‘Please.’ Eden grinned, resuming the difficult task as Nick picked up his cake and eyed it greedily.

‘I’ve just realised that I’m starving.’

‘Well, enjoy.’ Becky smiled. ‘Eden didn’t want any so there’s another piece here if you fancy it.’

Quite simply, Eden couldn’t resist it. Still on the footstool, the fairy lights poised in her hand, she turned her head to watch Nick’s face as he took a bite of the moist chocolate sponge and Becky pushed the container holding Eden’s slice towards him. ‘Help yourself, Nick.’

It was sheer poetry in motion. Nick closed his eyes, just as one did when one was about to sink teeth into something divine. Eden watched as he took a very generous bite of the chocolate cake and then witnessed his eyes snapping open. The public school system had certainly done its job when they’d taught young Nicholas his manners because his moan of horror turned in an instant to a groan of approval.

‘What ingredients do you use, Becky,’ Eden asked innocently, turning her attention to the tree and smothering a smile, ‘to get it so moist?’

‘Tofu,’ Becky smiled. ‘Though I swear a good soy milk helps—none of that genetically engineered rubbish. And Hamish has found a store that does the most delectable vegan chocolate chips. I’m going to make one of those for Christmas—this was just a practice run. You will come,’ Becky checked, jumping up as a buzzer went off. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘What the hell is it?’ Nick choked, using the paper towel Becky had thoughtfully provided but for a reason she had never intended!

‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’ Eden giggled. ‘All her food’s the same. It looks fantastic, but when you taste it. Don’t!’ Eden yelped as Nick went to toss the rest of his cake in the waste-paper basket. ‘She’ll see. Use the sharps bin.’

‘I gather that you’ve done this before,’ Nick said in a loud whisper, shoving the remains into the sharps bin, which had a closed lid that hid the contents from sight.

‘Many times,’ Eden admitted.

‘You absolutely cannot go there for Christmas. It’s no wonder Conner and Hamish are throwing tantrums if that’s what Becky’s trying to feed them!’

‘What can I say to her?’ Eden giggled again. ‘She knows that I can’t get home and, given she was there when I found out, it’s not as if I can pretend I’ve got other plans.’

‘You could have,’ Nick reminded her, but thankfully her pager bleeped, giving Eden an excuse not to get into the uncomfortable topic. Glancing down at her neon yellow pager, the numbers displayed were instantly recognisable as Accident and Emergency. As Eden was the admitting nurse for the paediatric unit that evening and all admissions had to come through her in order to be allocated, it could only mean one thing—a new admission was on the way.

‘Eden Hadley, admitting nurse for Paeds,’ Eden said as she was connected, listening to an unfamiliar nursing sister and scribbling down an initial diagnosis as Nick looked on. ‘Chest infection or difficulty feeding.’ She shared a wry grin with Nick as Emergency attempted to shuffle their patient to the top of the list. ‘And he’s three years old. Have we had him before?’

An incredibly long wait ensued as the nurse attempted to locate the patient’s history, reeling off a long list of complaints until finally Eden halted her.

‘Ben!’

‘No,’ came a hesitant voice down the line. ‘The name I’ve got is Maxwell Benjamin Reece, he’s a three-year-old with Down’s syndrome. He’s also…’ The nurse lowered her voice and Eden rolled her eyes, finishing the sentence for her.

‘HIV positive. He’s familiar to the ward, but he goes by the name of Ben. Could you let the staff who are dealing with him know that, please? Who’s with him?’

The frantic scribbling on her notepad had stopped—Ben was familiar to anyone who worked on the paediatric unit and Eden didn’t need to write down his past history. She gave a frown as the emergency nurse cheerfully declared that he had come in accompanied by Lorna, a social worker. It became clear that, yet again, little Ben was a ward of the state, that he’d had a chest X-ray and that they wanted to send him up soon as they were getting pretty full. Maybe it would be better if he was in familiar surroundings.

‘Send him straight up,’ Eden said, replacing the phone in its cradle.

‘Ben?’ Nick checked.