Collided (The Blackbird Boys #2)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
FRANCIS
St Thomas’ Hospital, London
I make my way down the long corridor of the paediatric emergency department, breathless and drained.
The night shift has been especially tough, with four complicated cases arriving almost at once: a nine-month-old baby girl with bilateral pneumonia, a five-year-old boy battling severe peritonitis, and two school-aged siblings involved in a car accident while travelling with their parents.
The entire family suffered injuries and bruises, but thankfully nothing life-threatening. Now both the children and their parents are being cared for here at St Thomas’.
At last, the condition of the other two children has stabilised, and everything is under control. My shift is finally over, and in a few minutes, I’ll be able to hand over to my colleague, as things are calm and steady for now.
At the far end of the corridor, I spot Dr Carson, Caroline, approaching, buttoning her white coat as she walks.
The moment she sees me, she offers a warm smile.
“Hi Francis, how are you? I bumped into Eliza in the changing room, and she said you’ve had quite a night...”
Eliza Duke, the paediatric nurse who assisted me tirelessly throughout the entire shift, is one of the best in our department.
“Hi, Caroline. Yes, we had four serious emergencies; they all came in between two and four in the morning, not to mention the usual stream of routine cases... As always, whenever the weekend approaches and the GPs are off duty, it’s as if all the children decide to fall ill at the same time...”
I let out a tired laugh, and Caroline gives me a sympathetic look.
She knows well how things work in paediatric A I’ve just finished completing the paperwork and…”
Before I can finish my sentence, I hear Eddie, the paediatric nurse who’s just taken over from Eliza, calling me from across the room.
“Dr Starkey, wait! Little Adkins, in room two... The latest blood test results just came back from the lab. You said you wanted to check them before heading off.”
“Eddie!” Caroline cuts in.
“Dr Starkey has done more than enough, he’s just about to clock off. I’ll go and check the girl’s results in a minute.”
Even though I’ve got an important commitment later and I’m looking forward to going home, grabbing a quick shower and getting changed before heading back out, I don’t hesitate for a second.
Little Adkins, Adele, arrived here in quite a serious condition. Her mother is barely more than a teenager and hadn’t realised how unwell her daughter was until a neighbour, hearing her coughing herself to exhaustion, decided to bring them both to the hospital.
I didn’t get the impression there’s much of a support system around them. The neighbour, though kind, left shortly after dropping Adele and her mother at A to know I’ve made a difference. But when it comes to actually handling them, looking after them properly… I never quite feel at ease.
I’m the youngest of four. I grew up sheltered, doted on, maybe even a little spoiled. I’ve got nieces and nephews, sure, but no one’s ever truly expected me to care for any of them.
Maybe I’ve just never got used to looking after someone outside a hospital ward. And yet, this little girl...
I don’t know why, but watching her stirs something in me, and it’s not as if she has any particularly striking features, quite the opposite, really.
She’s just like so many other children, one of the hundreds, even thousands of young patients I’ve examined and treated over the years working in paediatrics: hazel eyes, fair skin now flushed from the fever, and a cloud of red hair framing her face like a fiery little halo.
I wouldn’t even say I feel she’s especially vulnerable simply because her mother is so young. Since becoming a doctor, I’ve seen far, far worse. And aside from the inexperience that delayed Kelly, Adele’s mother, in seeking help, the child seems to have been cared for reasonably well.
There are no signs of abuse or malnutrition. She’s slightly smaller than average for a nine-month-old, but with the right diet, I’m confident she’d quickly catch up to normal growth parameters.
I make a mental note to discuss it with Kelly Adkins. Once the baby is discharged, it would be advisable for social services to offer the family at least some degree of support.
Adele’s mother seemed frightened and exhausted when she arrived at the hospital, which is perfectly understandable, considering she’s raising a child at an age when many teenagers can barely look after themselves.
And on top of that, not only has the baby’s father not been seen on the ward, but there’s no mention of him in any of the documents used to register Adele. I assume he’s not involved in the lives of the Adkins girls, though in this world, you never really know.
Eddie pulls me from my thoughts, handing me the sheet with the blood test results.
“Dr Starkey, here you go! Let me know what you think, and then you really should head home and get some rest...”
The lab results are pretty much what I expected.
Adele’s come down with a rather nasty bout of pneumonia, but I’m increasingly confident we’ve started the right treatment.
I reassure the young nurse accordingly: “Keep going with the antibiotics she’s already on and make sure she stays well hydrated.
Repeat the blood tests and take another chest X-ray later this afternoon.
I’m quite optimistic her infection markers will start to drop soon.
In any case, I’ve left all my notes in her file for Dr Carson, who, as you’ve seen, is just starting her shift now. ”
Eddie gives me a cautious smile and nods. I know he’s an excellent nurse, but he’s only recently started working here, and he’s a sensitive young man. Working in paediatric A no doubt he’ll adjust soon enough, but right now, I think he could use a bit of extra reassurance.
“Little Adkins is going to be fine, Eddie. Trust me.”
I give him a light pat on the shoulder and smile, hoping to offer him a little optimism. But my own energy levels are close to zero by now.
After checking Adele’s vital signs one last time and making sure everything’s in order, I say goodbye to Eddie and Caroline and head for the staff changing room.
I get changed quickly, almost numb from exhaustion, and then, grateful to live just a few streets from the hospital, I finally leave St Thomas’ and head home.