From Single Mum to Lady. Judy Campbell

went over to the curtains and swished them back. ‘You can come in now if you like—Mr Parker’s coming round gradually. Perhaps you can tell us what happened.’

      Delphine Hunt had bright red hair cascading past her shoulders, and a very short dress under a fake-fur evening jacket. She brushed Patrick aside without a word and flung herself onto the bed next to Leo Parker, kissing him passionately then breaking into sobs. ‘Babe—are you OK? I’ve been out of my mind with worry…’

      ‘Hey—wait a moment,’ said Patrick, moving forward and pulling the girl away. ‘Let the patient breathe! He’s just coming out of a diabetic coma—he’s not fit to be manhandled.’

      ‘Is he going to be OK? I thought those thugs were going to kill him…’ Delphine started to cry and the make-up around her eyes ran in little black rivulets down her cheeks.

      Jandy pushed a chair forward. ‘Why don’t you sit down here and tell us what happened?’ she said gently.

      ‘And keep your voice down please,’ added Patrick drily.

      ‘We…we were having a quiet drink, and these yobbos started calling him names, just because he’s on TV.’ Delphine pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. ‘Leo’s a bit impetuous and he went over and had it out with them…and the next thing he’s on the floor and the police have been called. They said he was drunk and disorderly. He never was—he’d only had a few, and it wasn’t his fault at all!’

      ‘I guess you’ve been trying to get to him since he was taken to the police station, haven’t you?’ said Patrick.

      ‘I’d just got to the station when the ambulance drove off and I saw Leo being taken on it and driven away…they wouldn’t tell me a thing.’

      From the bed, Leo Parker whispered, ‘Delphine—what are you doing here?’

      The girl took his hands. ‘Oh, babe, you’re OK. Thank God!’ She turned to Patrick and Jandy. ‘Can we go now? I’ll call a taxi.’

      ‘Mr Parker certainly can’t go,’ interrupted Patrick sternly. ‘You need to stay in overnight—we’ve got to get you balanced,’ he said to Leo. ‘You know that, don’t you, or you might find yourself in a coma again.’

      Leo struggled to sit up. ‘I can’t stay here the night,’ he said, aghast. ‘I’ve got to be at the studio by lunchtime. What time is it now?’

      ‘Ten-thirty—you won’t have time to recover properly by then,’ said Jandy.

      ‘I will,’ said Leo, his voice slurring slightly. He swung his legs over the bed and started to get down. ‘I’m going to discharge myself—I’m perfectly all right.’

      Patrick put his hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘You’ve got to give yourself time to recover—drink and diabetes don’t mix. And you’ve got a nasty gash on your head.’

      Leo stared at them all and then, as if the reality of the situation fully hit him, put a hand over his face and groaned.

      ‘Oh, my God. If the press get hold of this…’ He looked up at them pleadingly. ‘If this gets into the papers, I’m sunk. I’m recording a show about alcohol abuse today. I can’t let it get out that I’ve had a bit too much of the sauce myself.’

      ‘Everything here is strictly confidential,’ Patrick promised.

      Leo looked at him wryly. ‘Things have a funny way of getting out into the public domain, you know.’

      ‘Then let’s go now, Leo, darling, before anyone knows. I’ve booked us into the hotel together,’ said Delphine eagerly, laying a possessive hand on his arm.

      Leo sighed heavily. ‘Have you got two rooms?’

      Delphine looked a little abashed. ‘Well—no. You said we could be together, babe…’

      ‘You silly mare! Do you think the press are dumb? My PA and I sharing a room doesn’t look good—have you forgotten I’m a family man to the public?’

      Jandy flicked the briefest of glances towards Patrick over Delphine’s head, and his gaze held hers for a fraction of a second, before returning impassively to the scene before him.

      ‘I really wouldn’t advise you leaving the hospital yet,’ he said firmly.

      ‘Advise what you like—but don’t ruin my career. I’ll do what I damn well like. I can discharge myself if I want to.’

      He was interrupted in mid-sentence by the sound of the curtains being viciously flung back, and a small plump woman stood before them, staring at Leo Parker with undisguised fury.

      ‘So you’ve done it again, have you?’ she said coldly. ‘Will you never learn, you old fool? And you can forget about discharging yourself as well.’

      There was a short silence then Patrick said evenly, ‘Excuse me, but just who are you?’

      The woman turned to him and said icily, ‘I’m Phyllis Parker, young man, Leo Parker’s wife, and I’m just about sick of him making such a Charlie of himself!’

      ‘Oh, God—Phyllis!’ Leo Parker flopped back on his pillows and closed his eyes. In the corner, Delphine began to cry.

      

      Patrick and Jandy watched as Leo Parker was pushed down the corridor on the way to Medical, closely followed by his wife, still berating him. They disappeared into the lift and Patrick and Jandy went into Sister Borley’s office behind the central station.

      He turned to Jandy and said sardonically, ‘I’ve never watched his programme before, but I’m going to make a point of seeing it and hearing his views on family life and the evils of drink.’

      ‘Same here,’ said Jandy, trying to keep a straight face.

      ‘I reckon Leo Parker’s going to have some explaining to do…’

      His clear blue eyes laughed down at her, his grave face softened by humour, and Jandy answered his amusement with a grin, mutually diverted by the little scene that had just been played out. Patrick Sinclair could be quite engaging when he wanted to, she admitted.

      Karen put down the phone she’d been speaking into. ‘That,’ she said with compressed lips, ‘was the Delford Gazette. It’s already got out that Leo Parker’s a patient here—and I’m not surprised after all the fuss!’

      She went out of the room and wiped the whiteboard vigorously, venting her irritation by obliterating the annoying Mr Parker’s name now he had been taken to the medical ward. Jandy went to deal with a young girl with a staple stuck down her fingernail.

      It was a fairly routine afternoon—a sprained ankle, a scalded arm and a child with a hacking cough who should have been taken to see his G.P., according to Mr Vernon, and not brought to A and E, cluttering up the department.

      Karen sat down at her desk with a sigh of relief. ‘Right,’ she said comfortably. ‘At last! Time for a breather. It could be a chance for us to catch up on all the patient assessment forms and maybe—’

      The sudden jarring sound of the trauma bleep split the air. ‘Trauma call, trauma call, trauma team to A and E Resus. ETA three minutes…trauma call…’

      Karen swore softly to herself. ‘Wouldn’t you know it? I spoke too soon.’

      The relaxed atmosphere changed and there was an air of tension as everyone available gathered round the central station, prepared to spring into action.

      Tim Vernon came out of a cubicle, swinging his stethoscope impatiently as if he couldn’t wait to get going, and Max Fuller, the porter, started pushing trolleys down the passage and out of the way of the entrance. Karen’s voice was authoritative and clipped, her look of motherly cosiness changed to brisk efficiency as she spoke on the phone to the ambulancemen.

      ‘OK, everyone—an