Page 11 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
"Hello, Fern, it's Matilda."
She was about to hang up when Matilda purred, "Don't you want to know who Jacob's father is? Bet Connor didn't tell you his dirty little secret."
Chapter 8
The doctor was already waiting when she came back into the room.
He was a short, stocky gentleman who introduced himself as Dr. Anil Gopalswami while watching Coral's eyes go big at his name as she tried to sound it as her teacher had told her to without words. His voice was soft and accented, his dark eyes kind behind the lenses of his thick glasses. "But everyone calls me Jim," he added with a small, lopsided smile, his attention on Coral. "Don't ask me why."
He was one of the paediatric surgeons, who had a specialized interest in burns and plastics.
Fern tried to stay calm and out of the way, but it was difficult as he began to undo the bandages.
Coral sat propped on a mound of pillows, her bandaged right hand resting on her lap. When Jim began to peel away the silicone dressing, Fern's stomach turned.
The skin beneath was mottled and wet-looking, the whole of the back of her daughter's hand and wrist marked with blisters—some swollen and clear, others already clouding. Coral whimpered, a small, mewling sound like a kitten in pain, but she didn't cry or pull away. And somehow, that made it so much worse.
Dr. Gopalswami kept his voice low and even, even as he examined the extent of the damage. "It's all right, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened yesterday?"
Coral only offered another soft, wordless whimper.
Fern climbed up beside her on the bed, gathering the little body against her front and stroking her curls. "Remember what Mummy said, love? We have to tell the doctor what happened so we can make sure it never happens again, all right? Try to use your words."
Coral blinked, her wet eyes shining amber like Connor's—glassy and enormous. Then she turned her head toward the door. "Da," she whispered.
Fern's chest tightened. "He's gone to get some things, sweetheart."
Coral swallowed, then said, "Hungry."
Fern bent closer. "Are you hungry?"
Her daughter shook her head and made a tiny gesture with her good hand. "Hungry," she said again.
Dr. Gopalswami smiled gently. "You were hungry yesterday, too, hmm?"
Coral nodded.
"She loves noodles," Fern said softly. "She's watchedKung Fu Pandatoo many times."
The doctor chuckled. "Ah, noodles. Best food in the world. I love them, too, but I add lots of spice." Then, still smiling, he asked, "Did the lady at the house make them for you?"
Coral's expression changed, and she shook her head quickly. "Bad," she murmured, her pink lower lip trembling. "Bad, bad."
Fern's throat burned. "It's okay, baby," she whispered. They had managed to pierce the story together like a jigsaw puzzle, but there were small gaps. What they could understand was Coral had been hungry and had told Matilda so. Matilda had been 'sleeping' and had woken up and told her to make it herself. Coral had somehowmanaged to pull a chair to the hotplate and had put some water to boil after finding a packet of noodles.
"Did you try to make them yourself?" the doctor asked. He shared an impressed look with the tall, kind lady from safeguarding, who had come in minutes ago, taking notes with Fern's consent.
Coral hesitated, searching for the word. "Make myself."
Fern felt her heart crack all over again.
Coral looked down at her lap, then lifted her gaze again. "Take chair... waterhot," she said, then went silent. The doctor studied the burn a moment longer. The edges looked angry, the centre deep and glistening.
Dr. Gopalswami nodded slowly. He quickly wrapped a fresh silicone dressing and instructed the nurse on pain relief. Then he signalled for Fern to step outside.
"You have a very clever girl. The boy who brought her in said he found her outside the house, crying," he said quietly to Fern. "She must have been very frightened. We are lucky, because she may not need a skin graft. There will be scarring, but that should fade with time."
"This is going to be painful for Coral," he continued, his tone kind but frank. "And frightening for her. We'll need to clean it thoroughly. Possibly under a short general anaesthetic—it would spare her the memory."
