Emergency at Bayside

by Carol Marinelli

  And when it was over, as everyone who had worked on the woman had known it would be, Meg sat with the relatives as Dr Campbell delivered the terrible news. The only saving grace was that they could look them in the eyes and say that they’d given it their all—that, though it mightn’t help now, somewhere down the track it might comfort them to know that their beautiful wife, mother and daughter had had the best treatment available.

  Only sometimes it wasn’t enough.

  ‘No good, then?’ Ken caught up with Meg as she came out of the interview room.

  Meg shook her head. ‘She just lost too much blood. The faster we put it in, the faster she lost it.’ Looking down, she saw he was holding a patient card. ‘Another one?’

  ‘Only me. I cut my arm when we were lifting the last one; it just needs a couple of steri-strips whenever you’ve got a moment. I know it’s been hell.’

  Meg peeled back the wad of gauze from Ken’s arm. ‘I think you need more than a couple of steri-strips.’

  ‘It’s no big deal.’ Ken was in his fifties; he’d been there and done that too many times to get worked up over a small cut. ‘I’d have stuck a plaster on it and forgotten abut it if Flynn hadn’t seen it.’

  Meg felt her insides flip just at the mention of his name. Focussing on replacing the gauze, trying to keep her voice casual, she popped open a bandage and wrapped the gauze in place. ‘How was he? At the accident, I mean.’

  ‘Great. You know Flynn—had everyone organised in two seconds flat and still managed to crack the odd joke…’ His voice trailed off and he searched Meg’s face questioningly. ‘You know, don’t you?’

  Meg nodded.

  ‘Not many do,’ Ken said thoughtfully. ‘He doesn’t exactly make it public knowledge.’

  ‘So how was he this morning?’

  Ken took a deep breath. ‘Well, he didn’t throw up like he did after we got you out, but if his colour was anything to go by I’d say he wasn’t far off.’

  ‘He was sick?’ Meg’s recollection of her accident was hazy at the best of times, but Ken’s words stirred her deeply buried images—waiting for Flynn to come to the ambulance, the concern in Ken’s eyes when he’d finally appeared, grey and sweaty. She knew for a fact, then—knew for a fact that her instincts were right. Flynn could scream from the rafters that he was coping, deny the world had hurt him, but the truth, however vehemently opposed, was crystal-clear.

  Lucy’s death had devastated him.

  Meg’s jealous insecurity, her crippling self-doubt, might have played a part, but she and Flynn had been finished before they’d even started. Like the poor patient lying in resus, from the moment of impact, the moment their two worlds had collided, the end had been inevitable.

  ‘You know, Meg, I’ve seem some bloody tragedies in my time. But that day, going out with Flynn and seeing what he went through…’ Meg was horrified to see Ken’s eyes mist over. ‘Well, no one should have to go through what Flynn did. I know it’s a different hospital, and a couple of years on, but given what he’s been through that guy deserves a medal for what he did this morning.’

  But Flynn didn’t get a medal. He got a cup of cold coffee. And by the time the last of the motor accident patients had been moved out of resus, and the shelves had been restocked and the floor mopped in preparation for the next unfortunate who needed it, Meg’s half-day was almost over.

  ‘Bet you’re glad to be finished?’ It was the first time they had actually caught up that day, and Meg was writing her notes, trying to remember if it was the left or right elbow she had just examined on a screaming two-year-old.

  ‘That’s an understatement. Left,’ she added, and Flynn gave her a quizzical look. ‘Sorry—there’s a query epicondylar fracture for you in cubicle two. I was just trying to remember which arm.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How are you feeling? I mean, I gather it was pretty messy out there this morning.’ They might not be lovers any more, but they were still colleagues. It was only right that she ask.

  Flynn took the child’s casualty card from her before he answered. ‘It wasn’t great—but, hey—’ he gave a shrug ‘—that’s what we do for a living, Meg.’ Picking up his stethoscope, he draped it around his neck and flashed his usual smile. ‘Catch you later, then.’

  Meg just stood there; suddenly she was tired. Tired of the stupid game they all played each day; tired of pretending she was coping. She realised there and then that the decision she had made was the right one. Now all she had to do was tell him. ‘Just who do you think you’re fooling, Flynn?’

  ‘Don’t start that again, Meg.’ He held out his hands, joking to the last. ‘See, not the tiniest tremor.’

  ‘Flynn, will you just stop for a moment?’

  His smile faded as he heard the serious note in her voice.

  ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

  ‘Are you worried about the wedding rehearsal? If you are then there’s no need. I won’t let on for a second there’s any tension…’ His voice trailed off as Meg shook her head.

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘So what is it? Tell me.’

  The annexe was deserted, but Meg shook her head. ‘Not here.’

  His office was tiny, more an overgrown cupboard, really, and the piles of notes and X-rays littering the chairs and desk only made it appear smaller.

  ‘Before I start, I’m only telling you this because…’ She was struggling to find the words, acutely aware it was their first time alone since the break-up. ‘I just don’t want you to feel responsible. This has nothing to do with you. I’m only telling you first because you’ll find out soon enough anyway.’

  One look at his paling face and Meg realised what he was thinking—realised what her jumbled attempt at an explanation must have sounded like.

  ‘I’m not pregnant,’ she blurted out. ‘God, you didn’t think I was pregnant, did you?’

  Flynn gave a relieved laugh. ‘Well, see it from my side. Six and a half weeks after we make love you’re looking like you haven’t slept in a while and asking to see me in my office.’ He put a hand up to her chin, pulling her eyes up to meet his. But it wasn’t the gesture of a lover, more of an affectionate friend. ‘We’d have coped if you were, Meg. I’m not that nasty!’

  ‘I never said that you were.’ His eyes were doing the strangest things to her, and Meg dragged hers away, knowing she couldn’t get through this if she had to look at him as well.

  ‘I’m handing in my notice, Flynn.’ Meg was looking at her feet as she spoke.

  ‘No.’ The word was instant, decisive. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Meg, you don’t have to do this. We’re fine, no one knows—’

  ‘It isn’t because of us,’ Meg interrupted.

  ‘Then why?’ His fingers were back, forcing her chin up, forcing her to look at him, and suddenly she couldn’t bear it. There was nothing friendly about his touch and nor would there ever be. Pushing his hand away, Meg took a deep breath.

  ‘I can’t do it any more, Flynn. I’ve loved Emergency, adored it, but not any more. I’m simply not enjoying it.’

  ‘You’re just tired,’ Flynn insisted. ‘Everyone feels like this sometimes, but it doesn’t last for ever. Sooner or later the sparkle comes back and you remember why you’re here in the first place.’

  ‘Is that what happened to you?’ She saw the shutters come down and immediately regretted her words. ‘Sorry, Flynn, that’s not any of my business.’ She closed her eyes, searching for the words to articulate her feelings, trying to explain what she didn’t understand herself. ‘I’m going to go and lay out a body now. It should have been done hours ago, but we didn’t have the staff and we didn’t have the time.’

  ‘Because you were busy looking after the living, Meg,’ Flynn reasoned. ‘I can’t believe you want to throw it all away. You do love it, Meg, you do. When Debbie had to be rushed to Theatre…’

  ‘She lived, Flynn.’

  ‘And so did three of the motor accident vict
ims that came in this morning. They lived because of us. Because people like Ken, the police and the firefighters were on the ball. Because when they arrived here they had staff who were up to date and trained to their back teeth. Yes, there’s a body, but there are also three people who are going to go on and have good, productive lives. Forgive me if I sound conceited here, Meg, but it’s because of people like us.’

  ‘I know that.’ She was almost shouting. ‘But it isn’t just a body to me, Flynn, and it isn’t just a job. I nearly died because I was so broken up at losing a child. The emergency line bleeps and I go cold, Flynn, when I used to get excited. To work here you have to be an adrenalin junkie, and it’s just not me any more. All I want is to come to work, do my job and then go home.’

  ‘So what will you do?’ She could feel his eyes on her, yet still she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  ‘There’s a Charge Nurse position being advertised on the surgical day unit.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Meg,’ Flynn scoffed. ‘Lumps and bumps and circumcisions—you’d be bored stiff in a couple of weeks.’

  Meg gave a low, tired sigh. ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘And there’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind?’

  Meg shook her head. Tears were threatening now, and the last thing she wanted to do was break down.

  ‘We’ll all miss you.’

  ‘I doubt it. Oh, maybe when Jess does the roster, but I don’t think I made much of an impression down here.’

  ‘You did on me.’ His simple honesty made Meg look up. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?

  Meg nodded. ‘Kathy. She’s coming over again tonight; she’s been really good.’

  She turned to go, but there was one question bugging her—one final thing she needed to know. ‘Flynn, can I ask you something?’

  He was sitting on the desk, his long legs dangling, tapping a pencil on his thigh, and he looked up at the questioning tone in her voice. ‘Ask away.’

  ‘Why did you come back? Was it because you missed it so badly, or to prove that you could still do it?’

  For an age he didn’t speak, the only sound the tapping of the pencil on his thigh, and when finally he answered Meg was almost knocked sideways by the confusion in his voice. ‘I don’t know, Meg,’ he said slowly. ‘I really don’t know.’

  Closing the door, Meg realised it was the first time she had heard Flynn sounding anything other than assured.

  * * *

  Through all the turmoil, all the hell of the past few weeks, her staunchest ally had been Kathy. Kathy— who had warned her, tentatively forecast that it might end up in tears—had never once admonished her or said I told you so. Instead she’d arrived with chocolate or wine, rattled on about the wedding reception, moaned about their mother and, despite organising her wedding, had done everything and anything to be there for her sister.

  And now, on the eve of her wedding rehearsal, Kathy had again put everything on hold. Even though Meg and Flynn had been over for weeks now, Kathy wasn’t insensitive enough not to realise that the wedding would only serve to ram home her sister’s loss, nor that, given the fact that today Meg had said goodbye to eight years of emergency nursing, a well earned post mortem was entirely called for.

  ‘I know I was out of order,’ Meg said for the umpteenth time. ‘I know I was too needy, too suspicious. But I would have changed.’

  Kathy shook her head. ‘You didn’t need to change, Meg,’ she said resolutely. ‘You just needed a bit of time to find your feet and get back to the old Meg. You’re the least suspicious person I know—at least you were until you found out about Vince. How else would he have managed to fool you for so long otherwise?’

  Leaning over, Kathy topped up their glasses. Wine and watching slushy films on Meg’s couch was an all too familiar routine at the moment.

  ‘Will you be all right—tomorrow, I mean? I can come round and pick you up if you don’t want to arrive on your own.’

  ‘Please.’

  Even though she had seen him every day at work, the thought of seeing him at such an intimate occasion, seeing Flynn surrounded by her family, had Meg in a spin. The whole wedding did, actually.

  From the church service at one right through till they waved off the happy couple she and Flynn would be together, part of the glossy bridal party, smiling, toasting Kathy and Jake and dancing the mandatory slow dances. Meg closed her eyes. How was she going to do it? How was she supposed to get through this and come out with her pride intact? How could she dance with him and expect to somehow conceal the simple fact that she loved him?

  Always would.

  ‘Maybe we should have done that?’ Kathy’s voice seemed to be coming from far away.

  ‘Done what?’

  Kathy gestured to the television, but the film might just as well have been in Chinese for all the attention Meg was paying. ‘Elope. Are you even trying to watch it, Meg?’

  ‘No.’ Meg admitted. ‘I’m having a major panic attack about Saturday. Even the rehearsal tomorrow is sending me into a spin.’

  ‘I feel awful,’ Kathy groaned. ‘I’ve honestly tried with Mum.’

  Meg knew that to be true. Kathy had done her best with Mary—tried to persuade her to relax the rules, bend the occasion to fit in with the uncomfortable circumstances. But Mary O’Sullivan had waited a long time to see one of her daughters walk down the aisle, and there was no leeway in her newly purchased book of etiquette for the sisters to argue the point. Jake and Kathy would walk through the reception hall to the cheers and toasts of the crowd, followed by the best man and the bridesmaid, and bringing up the rear would be the bridal party’s parents. That was what the book said and that was what was going to happen.

  And that was only the start.

  Meg hesitated, unsure whether or not to ask the question that was bothering her. ‘Has Flynn ever said anything to Jake? About me and him, I mean.’

  Kathy didn’t answer.

  ‘Come on, Kathy, I’m not going to let on to him. Surely you can tell me what he’s been saying. I need to know.’

  Meg was ready for anything—had braced herself to hear the worst, prepared herself for just about any eventuality, even if it involved a nineteen-year-old called Carla. The only thing she had never anticipated was the stab of pain she would feel when she heard Kathy’s hesitant answer.

  ‘He hasn’t mentioned it.’

  Meg sat there for a moment, digesting the news, her mind searching for comfort. But there was none. ‘Nothing?’

  Kathy sat there uneasily as Meg pushed harder. ‘You mean he hasn’t said a single thing about me?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Meg.’

  She crumpled then, right there in front of Kathy. She just seemed to disintegrate. Kathy let her cry a while peeling off tissues and topping up her glass, before she gave up being the brave one and joined in too. The sight of Kathy’s tears was enough to stop Meg. ‘I’m sorry too. You’ve got the rehearsal tomorrow and the wedding on Saturday. You don’t need this right now.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Kathy said, giving Meg a big hug. ‘You know how much I love a drama. If I can cry at films why not real life? Anyway, just because he hasn’t spoken to Jake it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. It’s what he did with Lucy—just carried on like nothing had happened.’

  ‘But something did happen, Kathy. Something big and beautiful. We fell in love and he’s just walked away without a second glance.’

  ‘That’s Flynn for you.’ Picking up her glass, Kathy turned back to the film. ‘That’s Flynn.’

  The rest of the film they spent munching chocolate, with one sister or the other occasionally coming up with a scheme that might just save the day.

  ‘You could always sprain an ankle,’ Kathy suggested as the final credits rolled. ‘At least then you wouldn’t have to dance with him.’

  Meg snorted. ‘Mum would just make him shuffle me around in a wheelcha
ir. I can’t get out of it, Kathy. You know what Mum’s like.’

  ‘You don’t think she’s got ulterior motives?’ Kathy said suddenly. ‘She’s not trying to play matchmaker, is she?’

  Meg gave a scornful laugh. ‘Who? Mum? She hasn’t got a romantic bone in her body.’

  ‘Speaking of romance, Meg, can I ring Mum and pretend I’m crashing here tonight? Please,’ Kathy begged when Meg rolled her eyes. ‘She’s guarding me with her life.’

  ‘She’ll kill you if she finds out.’

  Kathy laughed as she picked up the phone and dialled. ‘No, she won’t, Meg. She’ll kill you for encouraging me.’

  ‘That would be right,’ Meg muttered taking the phone from a grinning Kathy. ‘Yes, Mum, she is really here.’ Taking an affectionate swipe at Kathy, she held the phone from her ear as Mary read the riot act.

  ‘What did she say?’ Kathy asked as Meg replaced the receiver.

  ‘Plenty. ‘‘You do realise you’re not his bride until Saturday?’’’ She was mimicking her mother’s voice. ‘‘‘That you’re wearing white for a reason and Jake might think less of you?’’’

  ‘Bit late for that.’ Kathy laughed, grabbing her bag and planting a quick kiss on her sister’s cheek. ‘Thanks so much, Meg.’

  It was nice how they’d become close again, Meg reflected once Kathy had gone. Now that Meg had accepted Jake—accepted Kathy too, for that matter, as a woman not a little sister—their relationship had flourished. And, despite all the emotion over Flynn, and the pain she had been through, Meg really was looking forward to the wedding, to seeing her little sister say ‘I do’.

  Turning off the lights, Meg went to bed. Tonight she wasn’t going to cry. Tonight she would think about Kathy, think about her dress and her shoes and all the pomp that came with a good old-fashioned wedding instead of dwelling on what might have been.

  Her intentions were good, of course, but it was a red-eyed Meg who awoke the next morning. Yes, Meg decided, flicking on the kettle and shivering in her flimsy nightie, she might well be happy for Kathy, and, yes, she would enjoy the wedding. But other people’s joy didn’t soothe your own pain, only exacerbated your loss.