"In emergency foster care for now, as Matilda has been deemed incompetent. They found evidence of substance abuse on the premises. She was quite agitated when we went to get her," Anand said. "Longer term, social services will look at family and kinship options. The priority is stability for him, and for Coral."
Stability.The word sounded like a judgement, like everything he hadn't been able to provide for years.
"Does that mean she can't... ?" Connor swallowed. "She can't just turn up here?"
"Not without a whole lot of people blocking the way first," Davis called over from the bed, where he was now crouching, hat reclaimed and turned upside down like a boat. Coral was carefully dropping crayons into it and teaching him how to count. "And if she did, it wouldn't go well for Matty."
Coral looked up at that, eyes darting between the adults. "No Matty," she said firmly, surprising them all. It was clear she felt strongly about it.
Davis nodded solemnly. "That's right, kiddo. No Matty here. Just Mum and Dad and your doctors and your very serious Oggie."
Her shoulders dropped a fraction as Connor's heart squeezed at what he had put his family through. Coral went back to filling the hat with crayons as if she hadn't shaken his foundations with two words.
"I have contacted a lawyer to request a paternity test for Jacob. I have been on eggshells for a long time. With Matilda declared incompetent... ,” said Connor.
"I don't see why the court wouldn't grant it," replied Anand.
When the officers and Mrs. Renshaw finally left, two of Coral's teachers came to visit. Coral was in queen-mode—fussed over and herbandage admired. One of them squeezed Fern's arm. "We're all thinking of you," she said. "The staff, the other parents. If you need us to pick up anything or... or if she wants to come in for a visit when she's better, we'll make it happen. No pressure. Just... we miss her, that's all."
"Thank you," Fern whispered again, blinking fast. There was a whole carton of cards toys and candy from her playmates.
Connor watched them go, the door swinging shut behind them. The room felt oddly bigger without all the people.
Fern sank back down on the window seat, DC Anand's card clutched to her chest.
Coral held up a box, now rattling with crayons. "Daa," she said imperiously. She grinned. "Bum."
He huffed out a laugh, startled. "What?"
"Bum book," she said patiently pointing to the book with a child with his trousers down, displaying his very pink bum for the world to see. Then she patiently grumbled as if he were the slowest person in the room. "Read."
The paperback was on the bedside table, with Fern's bookmark wedged halfway through. The cover was ridiculous with a cartoon boy showing a cartoon bottom.
"Alright," he said automatically. "After your dinner. Deal?"
She considered this, then nodded. "Deal."
Fern watched the exchange, her thoughts complicated as she wondered what new surprises the future would bring.
Chapter 19
The discharge day dawned grey and cold.
It had been two weeks since the chaos of the ambulance, the burn unit, since they got to know most of the nurses and all the doctors in the paediatric ward by first name. It might as well have been a year.
Fern sat on the edge of the narrow hospital bed while she folded the last smock with the sleeves cut out and tried not to stare at her daughter's hand.
The dressings were lighter now, reduced to neat layers of thick, white gauze wrapped around Coral's hand and forearm. The angry red skin she'd seen at the last change made her stomach roll every time she thought about it. Jim had been brisk, kind, and brutally clear. It would heal; there would be a scar, but that too should clear with time.
"It looks worse than it feels at the moment," Jim had said. "But yes, it's deeper in places than we'd like. If it happens again, cooling under running water immediately would help—not that I expect it to happen again, but still it is good to know. We have to be patient once the damage is done."
Though his advice was well-meaning, it just made the guilt rise again for not protecting her child.
Coral, mercifully, seemed not the least bit bothered. "Scratchy," she'd complained during the dressing change, nose scrunched, but she had watched with eagle eyes as the nurse taught Fern how to do the dressing. When the nurse was done, she'd immediately demanded hertablet and settled back against the pillows, Oggie wedged under one arm, thumb moving confidently over the screen.
Now she was singing under her breath, something tuneless about a cat and a rainbow, curls wild around her face. She had been talking more and more, ever since she arrived at the hospital. All the nurses and doctors now knew her subtle hand signals.
Fern checked the time on her watch for the twentieth time.
