Chapter 37 – At Table

When Joe and that woman and her daughter walked in, I felt my heart sink. Unconsciously, Louisa called out, "Joe and Mrs. Davey, would you like to join us?"

I turned towards Louisa in silent protest, so she whispered to me, "It's fine, Martin." Inevitably I ended up being moved to the head of the table, with James Henry in his chair seated on my left with Louisa on his other side. Morwenna stayed in her original place on my right, but another table was moved to join ours. So now Al sat next to Morwenna, with Penhale next to him. Mrs. Davey, was seated across from Penhale, with her daughter sandwiched between her and Louisa.

The waiter bustled about setting the added place settings, then reviewed the menu once more for the newcomers.

I gave my wife a sidelong glance, and in reply she reached over and touched my arm. She had come to understand my lack of social ease so her steady, and encouraging, presence was just as good as any number of sessions with a therapist.

So, I studied the menu intently while the other adults nattered on about this and that. The waiter returned after a time and took our orders. I asked for a small salad, raspberry vinaigrette on the side, the main course a grilled snapper, with wild rice, and sprouts.

The waiter cleared her throat. "We have a lovely special dessert, sir. A flan with fresh berries. Takes time to bake, so ordering now…"

I closed the menu with a snap. "No." The fruit did not sound bad, but no need to add useless fats and sugars.

Louisa perked up. "Could I please have the roast chicken? Beans and mash?"

The waiter nodded her blonde head. "And for the little 'un?"

"He can eat off my plate," Louisa replied. "He's quite young."

James was playing with his toy dinosaurs, making pretend animal noises, while trying to feed a cracker to the larger toy. He stared up gap-toothed to the waiter. "Mulk… peas?" he asked her.

"Oh, of course, sweetheart," the woman told him. "I'll bring a small plate for him, shall I?"

"Thank you," Louisa told her, and then the waiter went down the row. She settled herself while the others ordered. "This is nice," she whispered to me.

I inspected the well-ordered room. "Looks clean." I hoped the kitchen was just as spic-and-span.

"This was a terrible pub – an old knock 'em down and beat 'em up sort of place 'til last year," Penhale exclaimed. "Then the owner sold up, and new people took over."

"Yeah, yeah. They had workmen here for ages, turning it into this," Al added as he looked around. "Nice. A bit better than the chippy."

"Now, Al, I been working on my best man speech…" Joe said to him.

Al waved his hand at him to stop. "Just… keep it short. No jokes."

Joe's mouth hung open. "But I found some real corkers. There's this one that starts: Loyal, caring, sincere, honest, and a great man. But enough about me! And the bride? Why she's so well known that every man calls her by her first name!"

Morwenna hissed a dismayed "No."

Al shook his head. "NO."

I tuned their inane discussion out of my aural focus and examined more fully Joe's companions. Mrs. Davey was well togged out, and her eyes were bright with delight, watching Al and Joe go back and forth. Does she realize what a fool that Penhale could be? The daughter… Maisey? Milly? No. Molly. Yes; fishhook in the right foot, just behind the ball of the foot. The follow-up exam showed excellent healing, yet… the child was holding a paperbound book in her hand, listlessly flipping the pages.

She took a drink of water, grimaced at the taste, and then returned it to the table.

"Problem?" Louisa asked me.

"No."

My wife told me softly, "Don't stare, Martin."

"Yes-zs." But with furtive glances I saw that the girl seemed less present, as time went on, even as the food arrived.

"Tuck in, Molly," her mother said.

"Not hungry," the child moaned.

"Too many crisps before dinner?"

"I didn't eat any crisps," the girl protested. "I wanna go home." She rubbed her forehead and that's when I saw a glisten of perspiration at her hairline.

That didn't make sense. It was cool in the room, being a typical under-heated Cornish establishment, for buildings were old, insulation was nonexistent, heating plants generally were ancient, and fuel was dear. I felt, if anything, just right. Why was the girl perspiring? I recalled her injury and follow-up, and they seemed unremarkable. Yet… there was something…

"Mrs. Davey how are you finding our little school?" Louisa asked.

"Oh, lovely. Quite enjoying walking from home to there in less than five minutes."

"Where are you lodging?" Morwenna asked.

"Top of the hill," Mrs. Davey said. "Net Menders? Know it?"

Al spoke up. "That's the duplex owned by the Shepherds, right?"

"Yes. Lovely views," was her answer.

Meanwhile I felt drawn to once more pay attention to the child, who now had set the book aside, and sat slumped in her seat.

Louisa asked her, "Molly? Something wrong? You're not eating?"

The girl poked at the fish fingers on the plate in front of her and shrugged.

"What's your book? Louisa asked.

The child brightened "The Wind in the Willows; I love to read."

"Reading is good," Louisa encouraged her. "I read all the time when I was a girl. It's what helped make me a teacher. Have you made friends with other children in your level?"

"Uhm, yeah," the child hesitated. "A couple, I guess."

"Who are they?"

"Uhm… Maggie Richards… Jane Powers."

"Yes," Louisa nodded, "I know them. Good kids."

"And I will say, Mrs. Ellingham, that the staff and parents have been so very welcoming," Mrs. Davey added. "Nice people."

"Right," Joe said sarcastically. "But you'll find it hard to measure up to Louisa, I mean Miss Glasson, I mean Mrs. Ellingham." Her turned contritely to my wife. 'It's true,' he mouthed silently.

"They are," Mrs. Davey answered him. "Nice, and… every teacher and teaching staff has their own… oh, personality."

Louisa blushed. "I hope that they don't keep comparing you to me, that would be… unfair."

"Little butt," the Davey woman replied, "That's expected."

I had eaten a few bites of my meal (and it was good, not over cooked – nothing worse than dry fish), and everyone was eating, but for Molly, who sat lethargically with a vacant expression.

I put down my fork, and rose to my feet.

"Martin?" Louisa asked.

I ignored her, as I moved to look straight at Molly between Al and Joe's ears.

"Doc?" grunted Al.

"Shush." The girl's vacant look bored right through me. I snapped my fingers and she didn't respond. I went around the table, pulled the girl's chair away from table, and shifted it so I could look straight at her face.

Yelps of protest came at me from the adults, as I moved furniture, but I placed the back of my hand on Molly's forehead. Damn! She was burning up! "How long has she been like this?"

Mrs. Davey expressed ignorance.

"Humph. Molly? This is Dr. Ellingham. How do you feel?"

The girl gulped. "Kinda… sick," she mumbled, then she fell forward against me and vomited down my shirt. I suppressed my gag reflex as the vomitus ran down my front as the stench of sick filled the area. Next, she sagged into my arms a dead weight, while cries of alarm arose at table. "Louisa! Get my bag!" I ordered.

She responded immediately for I heard her clip-clop shoes on the flooring come and go.

The child's mother squatted down next to me, holding a tissue, which I used to swab the girl's mouth and nose. "She's breathing, and has a raging fever," I said. The girl was not quite fully-passed out. "Hm. Febrile…" Then I felt her body stiffen, pushing away from me, as her limbs became nearly rigid, accompanied by slight jerks. "Yep – seizure."

Morwenna was right behind me. "Ambulance?"

"Not yet."

"Move!" I elbowed the mother aside, took the little body in my arms and laid her on the floor, on her left side, with her knees bent up to her chest, and that's when I felt the doughy texture of her right calf and thigh; and both like fire to the touch.

"Bag," Louisa told me as she set it down.

"Right." I pulled out the thermometer and used it. "Nearly 40*." I tucked a chair cushion under her head, both to pad it and make her airway straight. Her body jerked for a few seconds more and then stopped. "Good, good. She's stopped seizing."

To give the mother credit she hadn't gone weepy, or screechy, like some. She stoically watched my exam. I pulled down the girl's tights, and I heard everyone gasp when the child's bright red leg was exposed. The entire back of the calf was bright red, swollen and hot to the touch, the skin near to bursting, extending past the knee to her right up into her groin. I could see scratch marks where the girl had been pawing at it. Must have hurt like hell.

With a finger I pushed on the swollen calf muscle, held the pressure a few seconds, and then released compression. There was a visible and persistent dent which only slowly disappeared. "Cellulitis - but it's from staph, must be." I peeled the tights down to her ankle and saw her her ankle was just as red, but not as swollen.

"This from that little fishhook?" Mrs. Davey grunted.

"I believe this is a staphylococcus aureus infection, but we'll have to do a blood culture. Is she allergic to any drugs?"

"No…"

"Has she had a cough?"

"Maybe."

I put stethoscope to her chest and heard crackles. "Slight pneumonia, perhaps. Needs an X-ray to confirm. But laying on the floor would compress normal lung function."

I got out a swab, syringe, and vial of penicillin to start her off. Might need vancomycin if it's MRSA. A swab and a jab into her right buttock got her started on a course of antibiotics. The child started a little when the needle went in and I saw her open her eyes when I pulled her tights back up.

"Mummy?" she asked.

I leaned down so I could look at her face. "Maisey… Molly, this is Dr. Ellingham. That fishhook you got in your foot last week? I'm afraid it has made you very sick. You fainted, and your leg is now very red and sore." The smell of her sick breath and what was on me almost made me spew.

"Oh, yes," she answered.

"I want you to go to hospital, for some tests and some medicine to get you better."

She blinked slowly. "Okay."

I held up my finger. "Can you follow my finger?"

She nodded and followed my instructions as I checked her neural activity.

"Eyes are tracking." I took her pulse which was rapid but not too much. I looked at the mother. "Hospital. I'd like to send her by ambulance but I will give her something for fever and nausea."

"Doc? I got my Police vehicle – right outside!" Joe piped up.

I sneered but I knew he'd get her there, and quickly. "Do you feel safe having PC Penhale drive you and your child to Truro Hospital?"

"Of course."

I sighed. "Right. Let's get her a bit more stable. I will call Hospital and tell them what I know. I will also check with the staff there later tonight. Call me when they get her checked in? I'll want a full septic work up, perhaps even a spinal tap, and chest X-rays, followed by intra-venous antibiotics but I think we caught this in time."

Mrs. Davey knelt on the floor taking all this in. "She's really sick then."

A high fever, vomiting, fainting, a febrile seizure, possible pneumonia, and a hugely infected leg? "Yes. Very." There was more I could add, but I didn't, as I found Louisa's eyes giving me silent approval for being taciturn for once.

Author's note:

* 40C = 104F