LITMIR.BIZ

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It can be caused by a blocked blood vessel or a bleed in the brain, or a difficult labour, if he was very premature or ill after the birth, or he had an infection during early childhood, such as meningitis.’

      ‘I can’t take this in,’ Jenny said. ‘I knew there was something wrong. I knew it. But nobody would listen to me.’

      ‘Your health visitor did,’ Zoe said softly. ‘She referred you to us. And sometimes it’s hard to pick up—it might not show until the baby’s twelve to eighteen months old. She said that he was hypotonic when he was born—that his muscles were floppy.’

      ‘And sometimes you might find his muscles are spastic, or tight.’ Brad looked at Dave. ‘You might prefer the word “hypertonic”. It’s the same thing.’

      Dave shook his head. ‘I thought he was all right, that Jen was blowing everything up out of proportion and Michael was just a bit of a fussy eater. You know, not liking lumps and…well, having constipation so much.’

      ‘They’re common in children with Michael’s condition,’ Zoe explained. ‘It might be that he’s having problems chewing and swallowing. How’s his sleeping?’

      ‘Average,’ Dave said.

      ‘He only wakes up three or four times a night,’ Jenny said.

      Brad exchanged a glance with Zoe. By twelve months, Michael should have been sleeping through the night.

      ‘What kind of treatment will he need?’ Jenny asked.

      ‘A physiotherapist can help you with his coordination—teach you exercises he can do at home,’ Brad explained. ‘As he gets older, a speech therapist will be able to help with speech and using language. And he’ll need regular eye checks. He might not have a physical problem with his eyes, but he might find it hard to distinguish shapes.’

      ‘That’s something an occupational therapist can help with,’ Zoe said. ‘The important thing is that you don’t have to cope on your own—there are a lot of people who can help Michael reach his full potential.’

      By the time they’d finished answering questions, made a referral to the physiotherapist and orthoptist and left the Phillipses, Zoe looked drained.

      ‘Come on. I think we’re both overdue a break. I’ll shout you a coffee,’ Brad said.

      Zoe could feel herself blushing and was furious with herself. She really, really didn’t want Brad Hutton to think she was bowled over by him. He might be tall, blond and utterly gorgeous—with those white teeth and his tan, he’d immediately been nicknamed ‘surf-boy’ by some of the more jealous males in the department, particularly when they found out he hailed from California—but he wasn’t for her. She didn’t have room in her life for a relationship. Not now, not ever. For ten years she’d kept to her decision of offering friendship, and nothing more, when it came to the opposite sex.

      But this hadn’t sounded like a trying-for-a-date sort of offer. It was more like a boss-rewarding-good-work sort of offer. Which meant it was perfectly safe to smile at him and say yes. ‘Cheers. I think I need some caffeine,’ she admitted.

      Though she was still thoughtful when they were sitting in the canteen, nursing a large coffee and a muffin each.

      ‘Penny for them?’ Brad asked.

      ‘I just hope the Phillipses will work things out,’ she said. ‘You know, there’s a high divorce rate for parents of children with cerebral palsy, and I think Dave Phillips is going to have a lot of trouble adjusting to the idea that his son is less than perfect.’

      ‘But they’re not on their own. There are good support groups—and you handled the situation very well. You gave him the facts, you weren’t judgmental, and you gave him some hope, too.’

      Pleased by the praise, Zoe met his eyes. And wished she hadn’t. They were the blue of an ocean on a summer’s day. The kind of eyes you could drown in.

      He smiled at her. ‘PAU isn’t the easiest of areas. I’m glad I’ve got someone like you on my team—someone I can work with.’

      ‘Thanks for the compliment, but I think you’ll find the rest of the ward’s the same.’

      ‘No dragon matron?’

      ‘No. The senior sister—Val—is more like a mother hen.’ She smiled back at him. ‘It’s so frantic on the ward these days that you don’t get time to meet people properly. Are you doing anything tonight?’

      He blinked. ‘Are you asking me out?’

      ‘Um, no. Yes. Well, not me personally.’

      ‘Thanks for the offer,’ he said drily, ‘but I don’t need a date.’

      ‘You’re married?’ She glanced automatically at his left hand. No wedding ring, no pale band of flesh hinting at the recent removal of a wedding ring either. ‘But I thought you were in London on your own?’

      ‘I am on my own,’ he said quietly.

      But there was a slight prickliness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. She backtracked fast. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick you up or anything. It’s just that you’re on secondment and you don’t know many people around here, so I thought you might be a bit lonely.’

      Lonely? She could say that again. He’d been bone-deep lonely since losing Lara. ‘I’m OK.’

      ‘Well, I’m going out with Jude and Holls tonight—they’re my best friends—and I wondered if you’d like to join us. Nothing fancy, just pasta and the house red at our local Italian.’

      ‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’

      ‘If you change your mind, we’ll be at Giovanni’s from about seven tonight until they chuck us out.’

      She was planning to drink until closing time? ‘I hope you’re on a late tomorrow.’

      She didn’t seem at all offended by his rudeness. Her eyes were lit with amusement and she grinned at him. ‘No, I’m on an early. So after the second glass of wine I’ll be on mineral water. Until we start on the ice-cream—and then it’s coffee all the way. Giovanni’s does the best latte in London.’

      He should have guessed that, from what he’d already seen of her. Zoe was a professional. She wouldn’t come on duty with a hangover. ‘Right.’

      ‘So are you busy next Wednesday night?’

      She was persistent, he’d give her that. ‘Why?’

      ‘If you’re not, how would you like to make some money?’

      He frowned. ‘You’re going to a casino? Or…’ Hadn’t he heard someone on the ward talk about greyhound racing? ‘The dogs?’

      She shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. It’s a fund-raiser for medical equipment. Jude, Holls and I do it once a month, and split the proceeds between our wards—Jude’s in maternity and Holls is in Emergency. So we all benefit.’

      ‘What’s involved?’

      ‘You can buy a ticket, for a start. Or go and flash your smile around, flutter your eyelashes and talk people into buying tickets. Unless…’ She looked thoughtful. ‘You’re not musical, by any chance, are you?’

      ‘I play the piano a bit,’ he admitted.

      Big mistake.

      ‘Yes!’ She punched the air. ‘I think I’ve just found our guest star.’

      ‘Hang on.’ This was all going way too fast. ‘I’m out of practise. I’m rusty.’

      ‘You’ve got a week. You can practise on Jude’s piano.’

      ‘But…’ His protest died as he realised that he had no chance of winning. Zoe would come up with an answer for any excuse he made.

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