Christmas On The Children's Ward. Carol Marinelli

sharps bin, which had a closed lid that hid the contents from sight.

      ‘Many times,’ Eden admitted.

      ‘You absolutely cannot go there for Christmas. It’s no wonder Conner and Hamish are throwing tantrums if that’s what Becky’s trying to feed them!’

      ‘What can I say to her?’ Eden giggled again. ‘She knows that I can’t get home and, given she was there when I found out, it’s not as if I can pretend I’ve got other plans.’

      ‘You could have,’ Nick reminded her, but thankfully her pager bleeped, giving Eden an excuse not to get into the uncomfortable topic. Glancing down at her neon yellow pager, the numbers displayed were instantly recognisable as Accident and Emergency. As Eden was the admitting nurse for the paediatric unit that evening and all admissions had to come through her in order to be allocated, it could only mean one thing—a new admission was on the way.

      ‘Eden Hadley, admitting nurse for Paeds,’ Eden said as she was connected, listening to an unfamiliar nursing sister and scribbling down an initial diagnosis as Nick looked on. ‘Chest infection or difficulty feeding.’ She shared a wry grin with Nick as Emergency attempted to shuffle their patient to the top of the list. ‘And he’s three years old. Have we had him before?’

      An incredibly long wait ensued as the nurse attempted to locate the patient’s history, reeling off a long list of complaints until finally Eden halted her.

      ‘Ben!’

      ‘No,’ came a hesitant voice down the line. ‘The name I’ve got is Maxwell Benjamin Reece, he’s a three-year-old with Down’s syndrome. He’s also…’ The nurse lowered her voice and Eden rolled her eyes, finishing the sentence for her.

      ‘HIV positive. He’s familiar to the ward, but he goes by the name of Ben. Could you let the staff who are dealing with him know that, please? Who’s with him?’

      The frantic scribbling on her notepad had stopped—Ben was familiar to anyone who worked on the paediatric unit and Eden didn’t need to write down his past history. She gave a frown as the emergency nurse cheerfully declared that he had come in accompanied by Lorna, a social worker. It became clear that, yet again, little Ben was a ward of the state, that he’d had a chest X-ray and that they wanted to send him up soon as they were getting pretty full. Maybe it would be better if he was in familiar surroundings.

      ‘Send him straight up,’ Eden said, replacing the phone in its cradle.

      ‘Ben?’ Nick checked.

      ‘Minus his new foster-parents.’ Eden ran a hand through her hair, pulling out her tie and collecting all the loose curls that had fallen out and replacing them, an automatic gesture she did ten, maybe twenty times a day,

      ‘What’s the diagnosis?’

      ‘They’re fumbling to get one.’ Eden gave a tight smile. ‘Why don’t they just admit that little Ben’s too much like hard work?’ Closing her eyes for a moment, she instantly regretted her words. It wasn’t for her to judge. Ben wasn’t just her favourite patient. Everyone, from cleaner to consultant, adored Ben, but, as cute as he was, he had been dealt more than his fair share in life. Genetic, social and hereditary problems seemed to have aligned when he had been conceived. ‘I’m just sick of seeing him passed around, Nick. It just doesn’t seem fair that one little boy should have to put up with so much.’

      ‘He’s happy,’ Nick said soothingly.

      ‘Is he?’ Eden wasn’t so sure. ‘He just doesn’t know any better, Nick. He’s never been given a chance.’