‘OK, your pulse is a little fast, but not weak, so you’re probably not dehydrated.’
He takes out the temperature stick and examines it. ‘No fever.’
Pushing lightly on my shoulder so that I lie down, he flattens his palm against my stomach and has a good feel about. I think about the last time he had his hands in that area. I drift off a little into that far more pleasant memory.
‘How are your stools?’ he asks brightly.
And straight back to earth I tumble.
‘Go away!’ I sit up and push him off. ‘I’m fine. Itoldyou − it was a kebab and too many beers.’
He laughs, rubs his hand over his beardy face and stands up. ‘Yeah, you’re all right. Like you say, just a wee case of food poisoning. Plenty of fluids, OK? And only dry toast to eat until you stop spewing.’
I shake my head. ‘Nice terminology, Doc. Fine. Fine. I have my orders.’
He leans closer to me on the bed and kisses my cheek.
‘Gerrof.’ I shrug him away. ‘I’m gross.’
‘Get better, you. I’ll see you soon … in secret?’ he whispers, giving me a knowing grin. And then in his normal voice. ‘Come on, Charlie. Our next patient awaits.’
Charlie quickly jumps up from the floor, startling Mr Belding who proceeds to screech and dart into the air, knocking Felicity off the tub chair and onto the floor, where her melancholy face loudly smashes into three sharp pieces. At the noise, Charlie starts crying. Really loudly.
I jump up worriedly in the bed. Jamie hurries over to Charlie. ‘Woah, watch your feet, buddy!’ he warns, scooping the kid up into his arms and looking at him with a tenderness that makes my neck prickle.
‘Sorry about that,’ he says with a grimace once he’s calmed Charlie down via lots of hugging and shushing. ‘Kids, you know.’
I don’t know.
‘Oh, don’t worry about it.’ I breezily wave him away and pull a pissed-off Mr Belding onto my lap. ‘I’ll clean this up in a bit. You go and see Peach. Thanks for coming. It wasn’t awkwardat all.’
He hovers by the door looking worriedly down at the broken doll.
‘Go! It’s fine. It’s just a doll!’ I say with a shrug. ‘Honestly, it’s really no big deal.’
* * *
Oh, but it is a big deal. It is apparently averybig deal. When Grandma spots smashed-up Felicity on the floor, she almost crumples down there with her. I thought I had seen the worst of Grandma’s emotional meltdowns, but I hadn’t. I really hadn’t.
‘Shit, I’ll clean it up, OK?’ I crawl quickly to the end of the bed in horror. ‘I was just, you know, waiting for a fresh burst of energy before I did it. No! Don’t cry! It was a total accident.’
Grandma gathers the body of the doll up into her arms, holds it to her chest and bawls. She doesn’t even notice that I said shit.
Fuck.
‘We’ll get a new one,’ I try. ‘I’ll pay for it. I’ll get one today.’
Grandma slowly sits down on the chair. She takes a shaky breath.
‘Thereareno new ones,’ she mutters, delicately straightening Felicity’s pinafore.
‘I’m sure they sell them at Argos,’ I say brightly. They always sell that sort of tat at Argos. ‘I’ll have a look, shall I?’ I grab my phone from the side table and open up the Internet icon.
‘You don’t understand. This was Rose’s doll.’
‘What?’ I drop my phone onto the duvet. These were Mum’s dolls? I knew she was unstable, but … porcelain dolls?
‘These areallher dolls,’ Grandma sobs, indicating the many creepy porcelain dolls positioned around my room. ‘Jack and I bought her a new one for every birthday since her first. This one is the last one we gave to her before she … ’
