Intensive Care3

That was enough. As her staff well knew, it took a lot to provoke Alice but once you had it was unwise to get within a half-mile radius of her. Standing up, her face flushed, she began drawing the curtains around Jimmy’s bed. As she drew the last one Catherine, a pretty curly-headed six-year-old in the next bed, looked up and asked: “Whatcha doin’ to him?” “Smacking his bottom, that’s what,” the nurse snapped back. Jimmy felt the colour drain from his face as he heard these words. “You can’t do that! You’re not my mum and anyway, I’m poorly!” Alice finished establishing a little privacy and sat down on the boy’s bed. “Jimmy, while you’re in here I take the place of your mummy. I feed you, wash you, give you your medicine, take you to the toilet – so I’m certainly within my rights to spank you. You’re a nasty little boy who needs a lesson in manners, and I’m about to give it to you. Get out of bed!” Jimmy made no move.