Page 224 of The Sun Sister

‘Okay, okay...the number for Dr Barnes is in the address book on your father’s desk.’

‘Thanks, and don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,’ she called after Dorothea, who was already hurrying back to her rich widow.

On the telephone to Dr Barnes’s secretary, Cecily omitted to mention it was a black maid she was calling him over to see. When she opened the door to him an hour later, she was relieved to see that he was a younger version of Dr Barnes – probably his son – and had a far kinder face.

‘Thank you so much for coming, Doctor. I’ll take you up to see the patient.’

Six flights of stairs later, Cecily pushed open the door to the attic room. ‘Her name is Lankenua, and she arrived just a few days ago from Kenya with me,’ Cecily said, studying the doctor’s face for his reaction.

‘All right then, let’s have a look at her, shall we?’

Cecily took Stella’s hand and they both moved out of the way so that Dr Barnes could examine Lankenua.

‘Before I touch her, I must ask you if you think it could be whooping cough? A number of cases have been reported recently, I suspect due to the number of immigrants entering the city.’

‘Oh no, it’s definitely not whooping cough, Doctor. It’s a very bad chest cold that I’m concerned may have turned to pneumonia.’

‘You sure sound as though you know what you’re talking about when it comes to sickness, Miss Huntley-Morgan,’ he smiled.

‘It’s Mrs Forsythe, actually. Well, one has to when one lives miles from the only doctor who serves an area the size of Manhattan,’ she said. ‘Lankenua also taught me about the plants her people use for sickness. Her mother was a wise woman and I reckon her remedies work.’

‘I’ll bet they do, Mrs Forsythe,’ Dr Barnes said as he drew his stethoscope out of his bag and listened to Lankenua’s chest. ‘Right, could you help me sit her up so I can listen to her back?’

‘Of course. When I called, I was expecting your father to arrive here.’

‘My father has retired and I’ve taken over the practice. I’m sorry if you are disappointed...’

‘Oh! Not at all.’ Cecily shook her head. ‘How does her chest sound?’

‘Too wheezy for my liking. I think your diagnosis is correct, Mrs Forsythe. Your maid is on the cusp of developing pneumonia. It’s a good job you called me when you did.’

‘Do you have anything to give her?’

‘I do indeed. It’s a new wonder-drug called penicillin and it’s technically only available in hospitals and administered by injections. I had a couple of patients presenting with much the same symptoms as your maid here and was able to beg some from the hospital. They are both recovering beautifully.’

Dr Barnes dug in his bag once more and produced a small bottle and some syringes. ‘It has to be administered four times daily over five days. Have you ever given an injection, Mrs Forsythe?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have, yes. My husband Bill was deeply clawed by a dying cheetah some years ago and our doctor prescribed morphea for it. He taught me how to inject it to ease the pain while he recovered.’

‘You were allowed to administer morphea yourself?’ Dr Barnes looked shocked.

‘As I said, when one lives miles from anywhere, one becomes quite self-sufficient,’ Cecily said. ‘I’m quite capable of giving an injection.’

‘That’s very helpful,’ Dr Barnes said. ‘The posterior is the best place of entry for such drugs. I’ll supervise your administration of the first one, and then it’s the same dose four times daily. You should see a change within forty-eight hours. Also, bring up some steaming bowls of water to help with her breathing.’

Dr Barnes helped her measure out the correct dosage, then watched as she gave Lankenua the injection. He nodded in approval.

‘Well done, Mrs Forsythe. You’re quite the nurse. Now, I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow.’

‘Goodness, you really don’t have to.’

‘Why, that’s what I’m here for, and after all, we’d like it if you could be well for your first Christmas in Manhattan, wouldn’t we?’ he said to Lankenua, who nodded at him weakly. ‘Right then, until tomorrow.’ Dr Barnes smiled at them all then left the room.

‘Tomorrow I’m going to take Stella out shopping for some warm clothes and to see Santa at Bloomingdale’s,’ said Cecily. ‘She’s bored with her mama sick in bed.’

‘She can always go to the kitchen and have the staff take care of her. You seem rather attached to that child.’ Dorothea eyed her daughter. ‘She is your maid’s child, not a relative.’

‘Maybe things are different in Africa, Dorothea,’ countered Walter.