Poor girl, she thought. Toby was right, it was a terrible waste. She brushed the young woman's hair back off her bruised forehead with a hand that trembled slightly, and blinked away the tears.
She was getting soft in her old age. She needed distance, she reminded herself. It was a job, and to do it properly, she couldn't afford to allow herself to feel other people's pain.
Only sometimes, like this, it was impossible not to.
Her eyes swam with tears, and she blinked and Nick was there, his face carefully controlled.
'Is she ready for her parents?' he asked tightly, and Sally nodded.
'Yes.' She smoothed the soft, bruised skin again with a tender hand. 'Yes, she's ready. I'll come with you.'
Of all the jobs they had to do, this was the worst, she thought as they walked together up the corridor. There was no easy way to do it. She wondered how Nick would handle it, and knew instinctively that he would do it right.
The young woman's parents were in the interview room, and as Nick and Sally went in there, they stood up, shoulder to shoulder, as if they knew what was coming.
'Please, sit down,' Nick said gently, and they perched on the edge of the sofa, as taut as bowstrings. Their hands found each other and gripped, and Sally sat down next to the woman, offering silent support.
Nick sat down opposite her, turning towards them, and now, for the first time, Sally saw the raw pain in his eyes.
He didn't prevaricate; there was no point. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'I'm afraid your daughter died a few minutes ago. We did everything we could, but her internal injuries were too severe and we weren't able to save her. I'm really sorry.'
Although Sally knew it was what they were expecting, his words extinguished the last spark of hope in the woman's eyes. 'No,' she whispered. 'Oh, no.'
Her husband held her, hanging onto her like a lifeline. After a moment he dragged in a deep, shaky breath. 'Can we see her?'
'Of course.'
They went down to Resus, and Sally had to blink away more tears as they made their tragic farewell.
'Did she suffer?' the mother asked in a strangled whisper.
'No. She was unconscious. She would have known nothing,' Nick assured them, and the woman slumped against her husband and shook her head numbly.
'We'll leave you alone with her for a moment,' Nick said, and drew Sally out and down the corridor into the stores. There he shut the door, pulled her gently into his arms and held her while she cried.
'I'm sorry,' she sniffed after a moment. 'It's just—'
'I know. It's such a waste. I know.'
She tipped her head back and saw the glitter of tears on his lashes, and knew that she would always love him, for this if for nothing else.
She knew they had no future. She knew she would get hurt again, but it didn't matter, because there would never be anyone else for her but him.
Friends or lovers, whatever, just as she knew the sun would rise in the east, she knew that he was her destiny, and nothing else mattered.
'Thank you,' she murmured softly, and, raising herself up on tiptoe, she touched her lips to his. Then she turned and went out into the corridor, back to Resus, to comfort the grieving parents of a girl whose destiny had come in the form of another car spinning out of control and cutting short her life.
Compared to that, the pain of loving Nick, was a precious gift. She would cherish it in her heart, and relish every moment she had with him. It might have to last her a very long time.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nick went off duty at lunchtime the next day, feeling a little dazed from lack of sleep. The RTA Sally had helped with had been the start of a long and difficult night. Every time he'd tried to get his head down in the duty doctor's room, Toby had needed his help with another patient.
Finally at two o'clock, to avoid making Toby feel guilty every time he'd woken him, he'd just stayed up and worked alongside him, so that he'd been constantly available to give advice or assist with anything too demanding. In the end it had been just as well, because he'd walked into a cubicle to check a diagnosis just as Toby was about to inject a patient.
'I think it's heart failure or a pulmonary embolus. I've given her Lasix,' Toby said, checking a syringe. 'I'm just going to give potassium chloride to counteract the potassium loss.'
Nick crossed the room in a stride and put his hand on Toby's shoulder, squeezing it hard in warning. Strong potassium chloride injected intravenously from a syringe instead of slowly via a saline solution would have killed the patient instantly by stopping her heart. It was the method of choice for execution by lethal injection in the USA, because of its extraordinary effectiveness. Nick didn't want to find out firsthand just how effective it was, and he was darned sure Toby didn't either. 'You're giving it slowly, in saline, of course,' Nick said in a quietly authoritative voice that Toby couldn't fail to recognise.
His eyes widened, he looked down at the box containing the vials and blanched. 'Um—yes,' he said, a little breathlessly. 'Uh...'
Nick picked up the empty vial of Lasix and heaved a sigh of relief. The diuretic was just what she needed, judging by the way she was struggling for breath. Thank goodness he'd arrived in time to prevent the second injection.
'Why don't you put an IV line into her left hand while I just have a chat with our patient and find out a little history?' He moved to the head of the examination couch and bent over slightly, smiling at the oblivious patient propped up against the backrest and fighting for breath. 'Hello, there. Mrs Meadows, is it?'
'That's right,' the elderly woman gasped, holding the oxygen mask away from her face and nodding. 'Oh, I've got such a pain in my chest, and I can't breathe!'
'I know. Put the mask back on, I'll just have a listen to you. The drug you've been given should help to take some of the fluid off your lungs, and very soon you should feel better.'
He ran a stethoscope over her chest, front and back, and nodded. 'You've got a lot of fluid in there, and this should help, as I said, but I think we're going to need to have you in for a few days and look at you, just to make sure you're sorted and it doesn't happen again. Is there anyone we need to contact?'
'Oh, my daughter and my son, but they're a long way away.'
'I think we'll give them a ring and let them know you're poorly, and perhaps a neighbour could bring some things in for you tomorrow? In the meantime we'll just set up this drip and get you transferred to the medical admissions unit, and then the physicians can sort you out. OK?'
She nodded, and he noticed her breathing was already a little easier. He turned to Toby, still as white as a sheet and fumbling to put the line in.
'Um—her vein's a bit hard to find,' he said, but he hadn't even touched the skin, Nick noticed.
'I tell you what, why don't I take over from you and you can go and have a break for a few minutes? I'll see you in the staffroom when I've done this.'
Toby nodded slightly and fled, and Nick took over, locating the vein instantly and connecting up the saline drip with the potassium in it. A few minutes later Mrs Meadows, breathing easier, was transferred to the MAU and Nick went through to the staffroom and found Toby, white and shaking, his eyes red-rimmed with tiredness and tears.
'OK, let's go through this,' he said, sitting down and patting the chair beside him.
Toby perched on the edge of it, looking sick with fright, and Nick gave a grim smile. 'I'm not going to yell at you. I don't need to. You know damn well what you nearly did. What I want to know is why.'
Toby sagged back against the chair, his eyes haunted. 'I have no idea. I just—a mental glitch? I'm tired, I wasn't concentrating—I'll never do it again.'
'I know,' Nick said confidently. 'I'm absolutely sure you'll never do it again. That's why I'm not going to report it, but we need to circumvent the possibility. You're too inexperienced to be hurled in at the deep end, and you need supervision. You need time to learn safely, and if you aren't absolutely sure, you have to ask, no matter how busy we
all are, or you could end up with a tragedy. OK?'
Toby nodded, looking near to tears again, and Nick patted him on the shoulder. 'Go and kip for a while. Use my room. You're too tired to be of any help to the patients at the moment, so I'll take over. I'm up anyway.'
'Are you sure?'
'Absolutely. I've got the afternoon off tomorrow. You haven't. Go—sleep. I'll wake you if we have a crisis.'
He looked for Sally at seven, to have a quiet word with her about Toby, but she wasn't on duty until twelve. Odd, how the light seemed to go out of the day at that bit of news.
He told her about Toby when she came on duty, and she shook her head slowly.
'Oh, dear,' she said heavily. 'Was he mortified?'
'Just a touch. He's checking everything before he breathes now, but better to err on the safe side. I've spoken to Ryan, off the record, but I'm reluctant to make it official because I think Toby's got great potential and he's a good diagnostician. It's one of those stupid things we're all in danger of doing, and it's all part of the learning curve.'
'Hmm—and Toby's has just got steeper,' she said with a wry smile. 'Thanks for the warning. I'll keep an eye.'
To Nick's amazement it quietened down at one, so he went off a little early and arrived at his new house to find the furniture van outside, waiting to unload.
'Afternoon, guv,' the driver said, hopping down from the cab. 'All ready?'
He glanced at his watch, puzzled. 'Yes—I'm sorry, I've been at work. Have you been waiting long? I thought you'd be here at four.'
'We got away earlier than we thought, so we just came straight over. We've only been here long enough to eat our sandwiches. All right to unload now, or do you want us to hang on?'
He shook his head, The house had been left spotlessly clean, so it wasn't a problem that they were early. All they had to do was bring everything in and put it down in more or less the right place. 'Now will do fine. That's great. I'll just open up.'
He found the key and let them in, then remembered a clever idea he'd had in the middle of the night. 'I've drawn you a plan,' he said, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out on the hall wall, and jammed it under the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. "There. That should help you find the rooms,' he said. 'What can I do to help?'
'Put the kettle on?' the driver's mate suggested, and Nick nodded again, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he remembered this crew from the pack-up of his old house last week.
Tea and biscuits—endlessly. He shot round to the supermarket conveniently sited a short distance away, stocked up on biscuits and cakes and more milk, and arrived back to find them wrestling a sofa into the sitting room.
'Tea and biscuits coming up,' he promised, and was rewarded with a grunt of approval.
They appeared just as he poured the milk into the mugs, and vacuumed up half a packet of biscuits before heading back to tackle the rest.
Redundant, since all boxes and possessions were clearly labelled to mark their destination, he found a suitcase with his old jeans in and started unpacking the books in his study and slotting them onto the shelves. He finished the last box as the removal men called up that they were finished, and within a few minutes they were on their way and he was alone in his house.
He cleared a space in front of one of the sofas and sat down, propped his bare feet on a box and looked around him in satisfaction.
It was wonderful. Complete and utter chaos, but wonderful.
Exhausted but content, Nick fell instantly asleep.
Oh, rats, Sally thought, her heart sinking. No car, and the lights weren't on. Nick must have gone back to wherever he'd been staying to pick up his things, or else to spend the night there. She was sure, though, that he'd said he was moving in this evening.
It was possible, of course, that he'd parked around the corner or popped out for a lightbulb or something silly like that.
Whatever, he just wasn't here—unless he'd already gone to bed, and that was unlikely.
Stifling the disappointment that she was reluctant to acknowledge, she drove to the end of the little cul-de-sac beside his house to turn round, and blinked. His car was on the drive at the end of the garden, in front of a garage she hadn't realised was his.
So he was here, after all.
She parked beside the fence, removed the plant from the back seat and locked the car, then, screwing up her courage, she rang the bell.
For a minute nothing happened, then a light came on in the hall and the front door swung inwards to reveal Nick dressed in a scruffy, faded T-shirt and a pair of ancient and comfortable jeans. His feet were bare, his hair was tousled and spiky as if he'd been asleep, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. He blinked at her and stabbed a hand through the rumpled hair, doing nothing to improve it. 'Sally. Hi.' His voice was rough with sleep, and she felt a rush of guilt. He'd been on duty all night and, judging by the sound of it, it hadn't been easy.
'I'm sorry I woke you,' she said contritely, but he gave a wry laugh.
'It's OK. I just sat down for a minute—I must have dropped off. Busy night. Come in.'
He put his arm behind her, guiding her over the threshold, and she handed him the plant.
'A little bonsai tree for your study—I know you love trees and it seemed appropriate in your tree-house. Don't forget to water it every day, though.'
He looked a little choked for a second, then gave her a crooked smile. 'Thank you.' He bent to kiss her, his lips making fleeting contact before he straightened and stepped away. 'Come on in. Let me get you a drink. I've got a bottle of fizzy that's been in the fridge for a few hours—want to crack it with me?'
'I'm driving,' she reminded him, a little reluctantly.
'You could stay for a while,' he suggested. 'Let it wear off. I could order a pizza or Chinese or something to go with it.'
He gave her one of his persuasive little grins, and she shook her head in despair. She'd already eaten, but only toast in the staffroom at six, and it was tempting.
'You seem to spend your life feeding me these days,' she protested weakly.
'You could help me unpack boxes,' he suggested, 'if you feel you need to earn the meal.' His words were innocent enough, but his eyes twinkled, and she was lost.
'I knew there was a catch,' she said with a laugh.
He stifled the smile, and one brow quirked in enquiry. 'Well?'
'OK—just a little glass, just this once as you're celebrating, and I'll let you feed me if you insist,' she relented, disgusted with herself for crumbling so easily and yet only too willing to be talked into it. 'And we'll unpack some of your things.'
Nick's grin widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes and bringing his face alive, and she thought how good he looked, how dear and familiar and just downright gorgeous, with his chin roughened by the day's growth of beard and his hair all untidy and his eyes smiling like that.
Gorgeous and utterly dangerous, except that she was already addicted so it didn't really matter. Sally smiled back.
'So where is it, then, or was that just an empty threat?'
He chuckled and pulled the bottle out of the fridge. 'Here's the champagne. Goodness knows where the glasses are.'
'Use mugs,' she said pragmatically.
He looked shocked. 'It's a Moet!' he said, scandalised.
Sally just laughed. 'Don't be pompous,' she told him, and started ferreting about in the boxes. 'Here— this one says glasses. Shall I unpack it, if you're going to be precious?'
He snorted rudely and went up to the study, coming back a moment later with the telephone directory. 'Chinese, Indian or pizza?'
'Indian. Chicken korma and plain rice, a chapati and mango chutney, please.'
'Such a creature of habit,' he murmured, and ran his finger down the list of numbers.
'The Taj Mahal is the best,' she told him. 'Cheap, quick and yummy—and they deliver.'
He nodded, scanned the list again and punched in a num
ber on the wall phone by the fridge.
'I bet you have a jalfrezi and pilau rice,' she murmured, just as he started to order it.
He rolled against the wall, turning to look at her while he spoke, his mouth twitching into a grin as he did exactly as she'd said.
'"You're such a creature of habit!"' she mimicked, and he gave the address, hung up and laughed softly.
'So we're as bad as each other,' he said. 'Found those glasses yet?'
'I've found something vaguely wineglass-ish. Not flutes.'
'They'll do.' Nick threw her a new teatowel; and she gave them a rinse, wiped them with the ineffectual cloth and put them on the worktop just as he popped the cork. The champagne foamed into the glasses, and he ceremoniously handed her one.
'To your house,' she said, raising the glass, and he clinked it with his.
'To—the house,' he said softly, their eyes locked, and he lifted the glass to his lips and drank.
There had been an infinitesimal pause before he'd changed her wording. Why? Surely he hadn't been about to say 'our house', had he? Oh, Lord. And the way he was looking at her...
To cover her confusion Sally took a gulp of the wine, but the bubbles tickled her nose, and she wrinkled it and laughed, breaking the tension of the moment. 'So—unpacking,' she said, a little breathlessly, and he seemed to take a second to focus on her words.
'Yes—um, plates would be good. I bought their dishwasher. I think everything could do with going through it to get the newsprint off, but we'll need a couple of plates to eat off in the meantime. I think they're in here.'
He put his glass down and crouched by a box, slitting the tape with his keys and opening it. It was the right one, so between them they unpacked it and loaded the dishwasher. While he tackled the next box, Sally washed two of the plates and then spent a few fruitless minutes trying to find cutlery.
'Ah, that's in my spaghetti jar to stop it crashing about,' he said, brandishing it, and she rolled her eyes and laughed.
'Obvious, really. The first place I would have thought of looking.'
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