Chapter One
Friday 6 January
She heard her first. It often went that way.
The kids would scream and cry so clearly, she could almost diagnose them by sound. This one was a long, plaintive moan with a protective edge.
Not lungs. The sound was uninhibited.
Not a head injury. They never made much noise.
Fracture?
Flesh wound was possible, but they usually went quiet after the initial shock.
No, this was a fracture. Or perhaps a dislocation. She was sure of it.
Kelly pulled back the curtain and smiled at the little girl sitting on her mother’s lap. There were three men in the room – two paramedics and probably the father – but Kelly ignored all of them. She focused her gaze on the small girl who looked at her with frightened, tear-filled eyes above her tiny disposable mask.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Kelly said. ‘What happened to you?’
The probable father took a step forwards. Mid-thirties, broad shouldered. After years of mandatory mask wearing, Kelly had become an expert at sizing people up by their eyes and body language. This guy had the air of an arsehole about him.
‘She was running through the house and slipped over. We didn’t see it, but we think she landed on her shoulder.’
Kelly clenched her teeth to bite back her irritation. If she’d wanted him to answer the question, she would have asked him. And he’d just admitted he didn’t see what happened, so he was as useless as his attempts to suck in his stomach when she first entered the cubicle.
She returned her gaze to the girl. ‘Did you fall on your shoulder?’
The girl shook her head. ‘It was my elbow,’ she whispered.
Kelly looked at the mother, whose rapid, shallow breathing was rocking the little girl back and forth like she was in a bassinet. Her eyes had the wildness of a hunted animal.
‘How old is she?’
‘Three,’ the mother said in a breathless groan.
‘What’s your name, darling?’ Kelly asked the girl.
‘Charlotte.’
Kelly smiled, knowing it would show in the crinkling of her eyes above her mask. She gently ran her fingers along Charlotte’s tiny arm, which the girl was holding protectively against her chest. ‘I used to have a friend called Charlotte when I was a little girl.’
‘Is she still your friend?’
Kelly pressed on the elbow joint and Charlotte stiffened, her eyes wide with pain and shock. But she didn’t cry.
‘You’re a brave girl,’ Kelly said.
One paramedic, a six-foot, dark-haired block of arrogance, spoke. ‘It’s not dislocated. We checked that.’
Kelly rolled her eyes at Charlotte, who, despite her pain, giggled. ‘Boys,’ Kelly whispered. ‘Always think they know everything.’ She continued to explore Charlotte’s arm gently, building the little girl’s confidence.
‘You’re wasting time,doctor,’ the paramedic said. ‘I told you, we checked for dislocation. She needs an X-ray, not a massage.’
Kelly completely ignored him, positioned a hand on either side of Charlotte’s elbow and, with one deft movement, locked it back into place.
Her mother gasped. ‘She just relaxed. Instantly. Just like that.’
