The Lost Sister, Kathleen McGurl [best desktop ebook reader txt] 📗

visit, as his immune system was now too weak to risk it. ‘It’s parents only now, for short visits only. I can’t stay overnight any more. And he’ll not be allowed to play with other children in the ward. They’ve even had to give Mr Bungle an antibacterial bath.’ She looked strained as she said this, and Harriet hugged her.

‘Just remember, it’s one step closer. They have to knock out his immune system so that his body will accept the bone marrow transplant. So, although it’s hard, it’s just a step along the way. Soon they’ll do the transplant and then his recovery can start.’

On the day of his transplant, Harriet spent the day keeping busy to take her mind off what was happening to her little grandson. She cleaned her house from top to bottom. She made lists of people to contact with her new address. She phoned solicitors and estate agents to chase progress, and kept everyone on the phone far longer than was necessary, just to chat and stop herself wondering how Jerome was getting on.

It went well, Sally told her later that day. Ten days later his white blood cell count had recovered to the point that he was allowed visitors again. Harriet went to see him, taking a small Lego model as a gift.

‘So, you had your big transplant,’ she said to him, brightly. ‘How was it?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It was borrrring. I had to just lie still while they put stuff in through here.’ He showed her the central line that led to an artery near his heart, through which the doctors had been administrating chemotherapy drugs as well as the bone marrow stem cells themselves.

‘But now that’s done, that’s another step closer to going home,’ Harriet told him.

To her surprise Jerome shrugged. ‘I don’t mind it here, now that you’re allowed to visit me and bring me presents. It was boring when no one was allowed to come and I wasn’t allowed to play, but it’s all right now. I don’t have to do anything like make my bed and tidy my room and stuff like I would at home.’

Harriet laughed. ‘No, I suppose there’s no chores for little boys in hospital. What about school?’

‘I miss my friends but not the lessons.’

‘I’m trying to teach him a little when he’s well enough,’ Sally said, ‘but I’m not much good at it. Still, we do some reading practice, don’t we? And I found some supposedly educational games for his iPad.’

‘Don’t worry. He’ll catch up. He’s a bright lad,’ Harriet told her.

Sally smiled. ‘By the way, I’ve asked Dr Windletter to put me in touch with the bone marrow donor. I’d like to write and thank them, and send a photo of Jerome.’

‘That’s a lovely idea.’

There was hope. Plenty of it. Jerome was responding well to the treatment. The doctors were talking about a discharge date, after he’d had the necessary course of treatment to ensure his body didn’t reject the transplant. They were due to remove his central line within days. He’d need more treatment, but it could be done as an outpatient. And with luck tests would soon show he was cancer-free, able to resume the normal life of a 6-year-old. Harriet was well aware it was a long haul yet – most children with leukaemia took a year or more to recover and problems could recur at any stage of his life – but things were looking much brighter than they had for months. Thank goodness for that anonymous donor, whoever he or she was. They’d saved Jerome’s life.

Davina sent a text a couple of days after Jerome’s transplant. Harriet was surprised – she’d never had a text from her younger daughter before. Davina still managed to hide her phone number on the text – she used some kind of app to block the number – but it meant Harriet could reply to the text. She had a way of contacting her daughter, for the first time ever since she’d left home.

How is Sally’s kid? Has he had the bone marrow transplant yet? Been thinking of you all. D.

Harriet replied immediately. Jerome had transplant 2 days ago. Went well. Now having follow-up treatment. Looking good – we are hopeful.

She didn’t dare do more than answer Davina’s questions. If she added any more Davina would back off. But a second text came back quickly.

Sounds good. Keep me informed, please.

Will do xx

Harriet smiled as she sent that last short text. Those little kisses she’d been able to add – it was a tiny thing, but it was the nearest to affection she had been able to show her daughter for so many years. She could now text Davina whenever she liked. Davina had actually asked her to do so – at least with any news about Jerome. It was a step in the right direction, and it allowed Harriet to raise her hopes, just a tiny bit, that they might be able to build bridges, just as she was doing with Matthew at last. ‘Give her time,’ John had always advised, ‘and she’ll come back when she’s ready.’ Was Davina, just possibly, ready now?

At last, Jerome’s white blood cell count was high enough, and he was deemed well enough, to return home. He first extracted promises from a tearful Sally that he would not be expected to tidy his own room, for at least a month. ‘I’d have promised him anything,’ she told Harriet, ‘anything to have him back with us. It just feels so wrong to have your child away from home for so long.’

Harriet baked Jerome a cake for his homecoming. Chocolate, covered with chocolate butter cream, and decorated with Smarties.

‘Next time you come to visit me,’ she told him, ‘it’ll be in my new house.’

‘Will there be cake?’ he asked, through a mouthful of his homecoming one.

‘I don’t see why not,’ she replied. It was so good to see him happy and well again. He wasn’t yet back at school,