FRANCIS St Thomas’ Hospital
FRANCIS
St Thomas’ Hospital
I push through the doors of St Thomas’, completely out of breath.
I threw on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a polo shirt in a rush, grabbed the first jacket I found by the door, a loud woollen thing Anne gave me, that clashes horribly with the rest of my outfit, jumped in the car and sped straight here.
So fast, in fact, I probably came close to losing my licence a couple of times.
I breeze past the reception, offering only a quick nod to Richard at the desk, who greets me with a puzzled look. He knows today’s my day off, but I don’t bother stopping to explain why I’m here, there are more pressing concerns right now.
The most important of which weighs about eight kilos, has a head full of red hair, and I’m praying she’s fast asleep in her cot on the fourth floor.
The lift ride feels like it lasts a century. When the sliding doors finally open and I make my way to paediatrics, I’m greeted by the usual hum of the ward and the familiar scent of disinfectant, but beyond that, I have no idea what to expect.
I pause for a second at the entrance, take the opportunity to sanitise my hands, and try to gather my thoughts.
Even though I rushed here in a state of total chaos, and probably look as dishevelled as I feel, I still managed to think things through during the exhausting drive through London traffic.
Technically speaking, I have every right to be here: today might be my day off, but I was the admitting doctor for Adele, and my name is listed on her records as her responsible clinician.
I try to stay objective, but I’m no fool, I know full well this situation could turn out to be problematic.
Since I began practising, I’ve dealt with a fair number of social workers and police officers, and while most of the time the collaboration has been smooth, there have unfortunately been a few difficult cases.
Times when I found myself up against a rigid, pointlessly complicated bureaucracy, one that, all too often, worked against the best interests of the child.
It’s with that awareness that I step into Adele’s room.
My eyes immediately search for her tiny form beneath the hospital blanket, and I spot her, thankfully asleep. There are already three people gathered around her bed.
Aside from Caroline, the colleague on shift today, there are two other women in the room.
The younger one, a plainclothes police officer in her thirties, with an ID badge hanging around her neck, is the first to speak.
“Dr Starkey, I presume? Nurse Bellamy told us he’d contacted you, as the primary clinician in charge of little Adkins…”
“That’s right,” I confirm, shaking her hand and giving Caroline a small nod. She hasn’t said a word so far, and her expression remains carefully neutral, but I know her well enough to sense her discomfort.
“I’m Detective Aisha Patel, Child Protection Unit,” the woman continues, gesturing towards the older lady beside her. “And this is Sarah Simmons, the on-call social worker for the Lambeth district, where St Thomas’ is located. She’ll be working with me on the Adkins case.”
After I shake the social worker’s hand as well, Detective Patel gestures toward the corridor, silently inviting us to follow her.
“Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?” she asks once we’ve stepped out of the room, just as Eddie arrives to check on Adele.
“I’ll stay with her, don’t worry,” he assures us, and as he passes by, he throws me a look of visible relief.
As much as I appreciate the trust he seems to place in me, I honestly have no idea what he thinks I’m going to do to fix this mess…
Caroline takes charge and leads our small group into the doctors’ lounge. After quietly shutting the door, she gestures towards the table in the centre of the room, where four chairs are arranged. Our guests, however, both shake their heads, choosing to remain standing.
Once again, it’s Detective Patel who speaks first.
“After the head nurse was informed of Kelly Adkins’ prolonged absence, she followed protocol and contacted the local police.
My unit was immediately alerted. In the meantime, a patrol was sent to the Adkins residence to assess the situation.
When Ms. Adkins failed to answer the door, the officers spoke with her neighbour, who, as it happens, was holding a spare key given to her by Ms. Adkins herself.
She allowed the officers to enter the flat.
But there was no sign of Adele’s mother anywhere. ”
The detective pauses for a moment, no doubt registering the alarm on both my face and Caroline’s.
After a short silence, during which she politely asks for a glass of water, she continues: “It appears that Ms. Adkins left in a hurry. Her flat was in complete disarray, and all of her clothes and personal belongings were gone. No one knows where she might have gone or whether she left of her own accord, as her phone is switched off and she’s currently unreachable. ”
Detective Patel seems to sense our unease, so she adds, more clearly: “At this stage, Adele’s mother is not under investigation for any crime.
A missing person report has been filed, but regardless of how things unfold, that case falls outside our jurisdiction.
Our focus is solely on ensuring the welfare and protection of the child, who is now under the temporary care of social services. ”
As Caroline and I exchange a shaken glance, the woman who had so far remained a mostly silent observer finally speaks up.
“Before your arrival, Dr Starkey,” Ms. Simmons says in a calm, measured tone, “your colleague was updating us on the child’s current condition.
According to Dr Carson, Adele should be ready for discharge in about a week.
We’ll remain in close contact until then and assess the available options, but if the mother still hasn’t been located by that time, we’ll have no choice but to place her in a foster home or with a temporary care family. ”
Even though they don’t ask me directly, it’s clear that both women are waiting for me to confirm what Caroline has already told them. Since her assessment is entirely accurate, I have no reason to contradict it.
“I agree with Dr Carson’s evaluation,” I say calmly. “Assuming there are no unexpected complications, which, of course, we can never completely rule out, little Adkins should be ready for discharge in about a week.”
“Very well,” the detective replies briskly.
“If there are no further developments, we’ll meet again here seven days from now.
We expect to receive regular updates in the meantime.
No need for overly detailed reports, if everything goes smoothly, an email every other day to Ms. Simmons with a brief summary of Adele’s condition will suffice.
If any sudden health concerns arise, however, you’re expected to contact both of us immediately.
And should Kelly Adkins turn up at the hospital, you must alert me right away.
Here’s my email address and my emergency contact number. ”
She places a business card on the table.
“And here are my details as well,” Ms. Simmons adds, laying her card next to the detective’s.
Caroline picks up both cards and pins them to the noticeboard in the corner of the staff room.
“I’ll have your contact details added to Adele Adkins’ medical file straight away,” she says, “along with the essential information about her current situation, so that all staff are aware she’s now under state protection.”
The two women nod in unison, and it’s Ms. Simmons who speaks first.
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was about to ask you, Dr Carson, but you beat me to it.” Her tone is warm, if weary. “At this point, I believe we’ve covered everything, unless you or Dr Starkey have any questions for us?”
She looks at us both with a kind, resigned expression, the look of someone who’s dealt with situations like this far too many times.
Caroline and I exchange a glance, just a brief one, but enough for me to speak on behalf of both of us.
“You mentioned a foster family. So, I assume there aren’t any relatives willing to take care of Adele, should her mother not return...?”
“I’m not authorised to disclose further details, I hope you understand.
Privacy regulations are quite strict. But I can at least confirm that, based on our initial inquiries, there don’t appear to be any relatives available to take the child in.
If Kelly Adkins doesn’t come back to claim her daughter, the only options left will be a group home or a foster placement. ”
“I believe that’s all there is to say,” Detective Patel interjects, cutting the conversation short with a glance at the social worker that clearly brooks no argument.
Caroline and I walk them to the door, bidding them goodbye with a polite handshake.
Once we’re alone, we head instinctively toward the vending machines by mutual, unspoken agreement.
I rummage through my pockets and, luckily, find enough coins to pay for two coffees.
As we finally sip the scalding drinks, I realise it’s time to apologise for barging in during her shift without warning.
“Sorry, Caroline. I should’ve called the ward before coming but…”
She cuts me off immediately with a firm wave of her hand, shaking her head dismissively. “No worries, Francis. I figured you’d turn up. Eddie told me he’d let you know what was going on, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up at St. Thomas.”
“In all honesty, there was no way I could’ve stayed away.”
“I know, my friend,” Caroline replies with a sad smile. “Because you’re not just a good doctor, you’re a good person.”
I hesitate. That last part… I’m not so sure about.
“Not everyone would agree with you on that. Especially not lately,” I say, the bitterness in my voice sharper than I meant it to be.
She meets my gaze, suddenly serious.
“Spare me the self-pity, Francis. I’m saying this as a friend. I get that you’re still not over what happened with Anne, but this is bigger than that. We’re talking about a little girl here.”
She nods toward Adele’s room, and shame rushes in, followed swiftly by guilt.
I can’t stand the disappointment in Caroline’s eyes, mostly because I know she’s right, and I respect her far too much to pretend otherwise.
Without meaning to, I lower my gaze, but she’s not the kind of woman to let things slide. Gently, she lifts my chin with her thumb and forefinger, guiding my face back up to meet hers.
“I meant what I said, Francis,” she says, her voice soft but unwavering.
“You are a good person. You’re a loyal friend, a skilled doctor, dedicated, thoughtful, the kind of man people are lucky to have in their corner.
Don’t let one mistake, if we can even call it that, define you.
You’ve got too much to give, and I truly believe the right person will come along.
But only if you let your heart open up again. ”
Just a few days after Remi’s little pep talk, I find myself cornered once again, and even though I’m doing my best to believe every word my friends have told me, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to hand over my heart to someone else.
But there’s one thing they’re all right about: I do need to turn my life around. For them, at the very least. For the people who still care about me. I need to try to be a better person… a better doctor.
When I think of Adele, so tiny, so fragile, and above all, so alone, I can’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have the people I do in my life.
“You’re right, Caroline,” I say quietly, shrugging as if I’ve just let go of something heavy.
Her face lights up with a warm smile.
“No worries, Francis,” she says, her voice gentler than before. “Sometimes we all need someone to remind us of what really matters in life…”
She gives my shoulder an affectionate pat, then adds under her breath, “And someone to tell us when we’re dressed absolutely ridiculously…”
Her eyebrow lifts meaningfully in the direction of my multicoloured woollen jacket, and she finishes off the coffee I just bought her.
I let out an embarrassed chuckle, finally realising just how unprofessional I must look right now. But since I can’t exactly do much about it, I follow her lead and bring the plastic cup of scalding liquid to my lips.
And that’s when my thoughts inevitably drift back to my tiny patient, and the incredibly complicated situation she’s going to face once she’s discharged.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Eddie standing near the entrance to Adele’s room, watching us from a distance. I’ve no idea how long he’s been standing there. His expression is unreadable.
But the moment he realises I’ve seen him, he offers a small smile, then turns and quietly slips back inside.