Kate felt she ought to smile back, or give some kind of reply, but it was taking all her strength just to sit there without howling. Fixing her gaze on the collection of cartoon character badges pinned to the front of Sister Watson‘s navy blue uniform, Kate tried to concentrate on what she was saying. ‗Alex has been very lucky. Thanks to the prompt actions of Mr and Mrs Hill we were able to perform a lumbar puncture and find out what strain of the disease your son has before it got too much of a grip. We‘ve started him on a course of intravenous antibiotics and he seems to be responding well. We should begin to notice an improvement in his condition over the next twenty-four hours.‘ The cheerful matter-of-factness of her tone seemed to belong to another situation altogether. In Kate‘s shocked, grief-numbed mind it seemed to be entirely inappropriate in view of the fact that Alexander was lying in a small room down the corridor, with tubes coming out of his arms and nose, surrounded by machines.
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