Part 11

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"I'm here to see John," Joan announced, and swept immediately passed Donna to go into the small hallway of the flat, aiming for the doorway to the lounge. "Is he in the bedroom?" Her eyes darted about the living room and easily spotted him. "There you are. How are you?" she gushed rushing toward him.

"Hello Joan. I'm fine but don't come any further," he pleasantly warned. "I don't want you catching this."

"Oh dear," she said, and dropped onto the nearest chair to him. "Are you still feeling poorly? I hope they're looking after you properly."

Martha and Donna could do little else than roll their eyes behind her back, but Jenny had got up from her position in front of the television, and openly glared at Joan.

Trying to smile at her to win favour, and failing, Joan wondered, "What is it?"

"My daddy was sick in the bathroom, lots and lots. Just like this…," Jenny demonstrated John retching that morning. She clutched Wuffy tighter, prettily frowning as she ordered, "Stay away from Daddy or you'll make your patients ill!"

"Sorry. I'm really sorry, Joan. She's a bit possessive of her old dad," a horrified John quickly explained. "It's understandable."

"More like worried about your patients, surely," Donna defended. "Anyway. Jenny, stop staring at our visitor like that. It's rude. If you want something useful to do, you can help me make some tea."

"All right," Jenny reluctantly agreed. "But you have to make sure you wash your hands," she told Joan quite sternly.

"I will," Joan quickly stated to appease her. Then returned her attention to John once the child had left.

Out in the kitchen, Donna hastily whispered to Martha, "I thought you were going straight to Anne's."

"I was," Martha stressed, "but that was before the bunny boiler turned up."

"Who's boiling bunnies?" Jenny queried.

But both women shushed her.

"We'll tell you later, sweetheart," Donna promised. "Why are you still here?" she asked Martha.

"Curiosity," Martha suggested.

And Donna nodded in acceptance. "Okay. Now we've got that sorted out, I'd better put the kettle on. We have some potential damage control to manage. Who'd be a companion, eh?"

"All for one and one for all," Martha joked, raising her arm.

Back in the lounge, the bunny boiler Joan was eyeing her crush with increasing interest.

"So, tell me, John, how are they really looking after you? I assume Donna's nursing skills are a little limited, shall we say, and Martha is far too occupied with her hospital duties to see to your individual needs."

"Well, I wouldn't…," he began to answer, but Joan interrupted.

"In light of that, I could easily pop in and make sure you are comfy," she offered. "It would be no inconvenience."

"That's very kind of you but…," he tried again, to no avail.

"And I'm sure Donna is better employed seeing to young Jenny, especially now she is ill too. Goodness knows how much clearing up had to be done once the sickness hit there," Joan stated in horror. "There must have been endless washing and cleaning. All that running around, getting everything spick and span. Children aren't known to reach the toilet in time before accidents happen. No wonder Donna looks so washed out."

"She…," John started to defend his friend, and then realised that she had done an awful lot of fussing around him, and was probably close to exhaustion, judging by her nap with him earlier. "She has been a blessing," he finished.

Misreading his words, Joan grinned triumphantly. "That's settled then. I shall take some of the responsibility off Donna's shoulders."

"Are you offering to have Jenny?" Donna deliberately wondered as she appeared at that moment holding a tray containing mugs of tea. "That's awfully kind of you but it won't be necessary."

The latter part was tacked on because she suspected Jenny would have kicked her shins if she hadn't.

Joan's eyes went wide. "Oh no," she corrected, "I was offering my services to John here, to help nurse him back to health."

"It's only a twenty-four bug, not consumption," Donna retorted. "The worst of it is already over."

"Nevertheless, it was very kind of Joan to offer," John carefully aimed at her. "We should be grateful she bothered to come here."

'Bothered' was one word you could use to describe it, and Donna suspected he knew that word resonated in her head. Instead, she forced herself to smile sweetly and hand out the teas. "That just about covers it."

An unsuspecting Joan smirked back. "I was about to say to John that he needs to get some fresh air once he is feeling better." She then turned to John in order to propose, "In fact, a friend of mine is having a little get together soon. A dinner party. Would you like to go with me?"

Not particularly. "I don't usually take Jenny out on school nights," he warned.

"It would be Saturday night," Joan countered.

He gazed at Donna and tried to find the right words to answer. She tried to innocently convey with her eyebrows that it was up to him whether he accepted or not.

Feeling slightly cornered, he brought out his megawatt smile. "Then we'd all be delighted to come with you."

"All?" a dismayed Joan near choked.

Unable to resist staying to see the Joan Redfern Show play out, Martha spoke up. "There's no way John should attend a dinner party this weekend. He's too frail and could still be contagious. As it is, he won't be able to go shopping with us Saturday afternoon."

"Oh," Joan sighed. Then an alternative idea occurred to her. "Perhaps we can reschedule the meal for next week instead, on the Saturday," she offered, all pleading eyes.

As John opened his mouth to reply, Martha shot into the conversation, "We can't."

"You can't?"

"We've already promised Anne we'll help her celebrate with an all day party," Martha insisted, "and it would be rude to drop out now. You remember Anne Wilson, don't you? She works on Florence Ward with me."

"I suppose it would be rude," Joan despondently agreed. "On that note, I shall leave you in peace to have your dinner." She immediately stood up as she spoke.

Martha stood straighter. "Thanks Joan. I'll see you out."

"Yes, thank you Joan for being so understanding," John added, and gained a grateful smile from her.

"See you all soon. Bye."

But a jubilant Jenny couldn't wait until their visitor had gone before showing her glee. She bounced up and down on the spot. "I'm going to a party! Donna, I'm going to a party!"

"So I hear," Donna replied, and hid her sarcastic grin behind her tea mug.

John glared at Donna. "You really don't like Joan, do you?"

"What?" She tried to blink innocently back at him. "It wasn't me that came up with your escape route."

"No, maybe not, but you didn't stop Martha from turning Joan down."

"Excuse me, but it's your stomach that is troubling you; not your throat. You've got a tongue in your head! If you're that desperate to go have an intimate dinner with Joan and her mates, you had better run after her and tell her."

"I… well… I can't at the moment." He then gave a pathetic cough.

"Talk about useless," she grumbled. "Either go out with the woman or ditch her; but stop leading her on. It's cruel and unfair. To all of us."

"Donna," he growled.

"You know I'm right, she argued. "That poor woman has put herself out for you, time and time again, and all you do is pretend it isn't happening. All right, I'm not keen on her, she's too much in your face for my liking, but I'm not the one emotionally manipulating her. That's all you. In fact, you do to everyone, even me."

Now angry and defensive, he demanded, "Oh? How exactly am I doing that?"

"By me being here like this," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "A glorified servant."

"Come off it!" he scoffed. "Women do what you do every day of the week."

"Women who also happen to be married and in a loving relationship with the father of the child they look after."

"Are you saying…?" He gawped at her in astonishment. "Is this a ploy to get me to marry you?"

She threw her hands up in despair. "Yes, it's all part of my grand plan," she sarcastically declared, "because we are clearly made for each other and you're the only bloke available within the nearest five miles."

Both of them were so busy fuming in indignation, they didn't notice a certain small child stood near them, now heartbroken.

"You don't want to be my mummy?" Jenny tearfully asked Donna to fill the lull. "But I thought you liked me."

"I do! Oh Jenny, I really do," she quickly rushed to comfort the crying child, kneeling to wrap her arms around her. "I'd even go as far as saying I love you."

"But…" Jenny's bottom lip wibbled. "But you can't ever be my mummy if you don't marry Daddy."

"I will always be your mummy in my heart," Donna promised, hugging Jenny tight. "As for marrying your dad…" She huffed a humourless laugh. "He has other plans. We both do. That doesn't mean you can't have me as your mum until then." She broke their embrace to suggest, "Now, let's wash your face, I shall rustle us up some dinner and you can watch Top of the Pops before bed."

John coughed to clear the sudden obstruction in his throat. "I don't think she should."

"Shut it, you!" Donna hissed. "You're old enough and ugly enough to cope with some bubble gum telly if it makes Jenny happy watching the music and dancing."

"Yes Donna," he sighed. Then, because Jenny looked so upset, he risked remarking, "As long as you can love me as well."

"Meh!" Donna playfully dismissed him. "You'll do."

Jenny covered her mouth with her hands, now giggling like crazy. They may not both be her parents but at least they were a little bit closer to being that.

During her next visit to the geriatric ward, Jenny was keen to tell anyone that would listen that she was going to a party.

"Lucky girl," Frederick enthused for her. "What is the party for?"

"Erm… I don't know," she coyly admitted. Turning to Donna, she asked, "Do you?"

"It's to celebrate the end of exams, from I've heard," Donna supplied. "They've sat their finals." When Jenny scrunched her face up in confusion, she added, "That's what they call their very last tests before they get their qualifications."

"That's a lot to celebrate," Frederick noted. "But you, young lady, have many years before having to worry about such things." He gave Jenny a jovial touch on the tip of her nose. "What will you do at this party?"

"I'm going to dance to lots of music," she declared. "Not like this…" She did a pirouette. "…but like this." A tiny version of a dance she'd seen on the telly was performed.

The residents surrounding her all grinned in amusement.

"Isn't she adorable, Nurse Redfern," Lydia commented to the passing Joan. "I'd love to see her dancing properly."

"Hmm," Joan huffed. "I won't be there."

"You can come with us," Donna quickly offered. "I'm sure Anne wouldn't mind."

"No, thank you. I've arranged to see my friends," Joan insisted, somewhat tetchily.

Which was fair, in the circumstances, Donna reasoned. Using her sweetest smile, she pleasantly replied, "Then our loss is their gain."

"What a sour drop that nurse is!" Lydia remarked to Donna as Joan walked away. "She's got a face like a smacked arse."

"Not in front of the child," Frederick admonished her. "Talk about something else."

Lydia merely shrugged then wondered, "Isn't all that Chernobyl business still awful?"

"Not that!"

"Then what should I talk about?" Lydia demanded.

"Try something nice like the royal wedding next month," he suggested.

As Donna tried not to laugh at their conversation topics, they merrily chatted away about Andrew and how different Fergie was to Diana.