for her, and that’s very kind of you. Heaven knows she’s an angel, all she does for the children here. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about though and that her husband will be taking good care of her.’ She smiled in a motherly way. ‘Put her out of your mind now, won’t you?’
Jimmy said that he would and then started up the stairs, but Myra’s advice gave him pause. Vivien was unwell, surely to think of her would seem natural—why then was Myra so intent on Jimmy putting her out of his mind? The way Myra said ‘her husband’ had been pointed, too. It was the sort of thing she might have said to someone like Dr Tomalin, a fellow who had designs on another man’s wife …
He didn’t have a copy of the play, but Jimmy gave the rehearsal his best shot. The kids went easy on him, running through their parts, arguing rarely, and all was going well. He was even be-ginning to feel a little pleased with himself, until they finished packing down the set, and gathered on the floor by his upturned crate to beg a story of him. Jimmy told them he didn’t know any, and when they refused to believe him, he made a failed attempt to retell one of Vivien’s, before remembering—just in time to avoid a revolt—the Nightingale Star. They listened, wide-eyed, and Jimmy realised, as he hadn’t before, how much he had in common with the patients of Dr Tomalin’s hospital.
With all the activity, he forgot about Myra’s comments, and it wasn’t until he’d said goodbye to the kids and was heading back downstairs that Jimmy started to muse on how best to reassure her she was imagining things, or whether it was even necessary. He fronted up to her desk when he reached the foyer, but before he could say a word, reassuring or otherwise, Myra said, ‘There you are, Jimmy. Dr Tomalin wants to say hello,’ with just the sort of reverence she might have used if the king himself had decided to drop by for the afternoon and expressed an interest in meeting him. She reached to brush a piece of lint from his collar.
Jimmy waited, aware of a rising bitterness in his throat, an old familiar feeling he used to get as a boy when he imagined confronting the man who’d stolen his mum away from them. The minutes felt interminable until finally the door behind the desk opened and a dignified gentleman emerged. Jimmy’s antagonism dissolved, leaving him mightily confused. The other man had white hair, neatly cropped, and glasses so thick the lenses were bottle-ends; he was eighty years old if he was a day.
‘So. You’re Jimmy Metcalfe,’ the old doctor said, light blue eyes rheumy as he reached to shake Jimmy’s hand. ‘I trust you’re getting on all right?’
‘Yes, thank you, sir. Very well.’ Jimmy was fumbling, trying to grasp the meaning of everything. The man’s age didn’t preclude him from a love affair with Vivien Jenkins, not entirely, but still …
‘On something of a tight leash, I’d imagine,’ the doctor continued, ‘between Myra here and Mrs Jenkins. Granddaughter of an old friend of mine, you know, young Vivien.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘No? Well. Now you do.’
Jimmy nodded and attempted a smile.
‘Anyway. Tremendous work you’re doing, helping out the children. Very kind. Much obliged.’ And with that he nodded stiffly and retreated to his office, a slight limp in his left leg.
‘He likes you,’ Myra said, eyes wide as the door closed.
Jimmy’s thoughts were circling as he tried to sort his certain-ties from his suspicions. ‘Really?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘How could you tell?’
‘He acknowledged your existence. He doesn’t have time for many adults. Prefers children, always has.’
‘You’ve known him a long time?’
‘I’ve worked for him these past thirty years.’ She puffed out proudly, straightening her cross so it sat flat in the V of her blouse. ‘I tell you,’ she said, eyeing Jimmy over the top of her half-spectacles, ‘he doesn’t tolerate many adults in his hospital. You’re the only one I’ve ever seen him make an effort with.’
‘Except Vivien, of course.’ Jimmy was digging. Myra, surely, would be able to set the record straight. ‘Mrs Jenkins, I should say.’
‘Oh yes,’ Myra twirled her hand, ‘of course. But then he’s known her since she was a child herself—it’s hardly the same thing. He’s like a grandfather to her. In fact, I’d wager you’ve her to thank for him taking the time of day just now. Must’ve put in