Kelly saw Joe have a quick word to Fletch as he walked towards the car park. She saw Fletch frown as he looked in her direction. And then he started moving. Kelly looked around quickly. Everybody was leaving and she didn’t want to be left alone with Fletch. The courtyard bar was flanked by rows of grapevines. Kelly ducked behind the leafy cover. She would have got a lot further if her legs hadn’t felt so wobbly. The hand supporting her elbow really wasn’t necessary, however.
‘Let go,’ Kelly instructed Fletch. ‘I’m going home now.’
‘Really?’ Fletch looked faintly amused. ‘You weren’t planning to drive, were you?’
‘Yesh.’ Then Kelly frowned. She couldn’t go home. Not yet. Quite apart from it being extremely inadvisable for her to attempt driving, she probably reeked of alcohol and what would her mother say if she knew Kelly had been drinking? Why had she been drinking? And why was Fletch holding her arm like this? Not that it wasn’t rather nice. Kelly smiled up at her companion.
‘I don’t really want to go home,’ she confided.
‘Where do you want to go?’ Fletch’s look of amusement had been replaced by something like curiosity. Or possibly astonishment.
‘With you,’ Kelly said firmly. She leaned closer to Fletch, resting her head on his arm. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Fletch.’ The soft hiccup didn’t detract from the sincerity of her statement. ‘I still love you, you know.’
‘What?’ Fletch’s expression had gone past astonishment. He looked appalled.
‘I love you.’ Kelly hadn’t realised the truth until the words had passed her lips. Having said them and recognised how true they were, her feelings for Fletch became overwhelming. ‘I really, really love you, Fletch.’ She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head towards her as she stood on tiptoe.
And then she kissed him.
Fletch was appalled but it all happened far too fast for him to do anything about it. And then, suddenly, he didn’t want to do anything about it. The sensation of Kelly’s lips on his, the smell of her hair and the scent of her skin filling his nostrils…the taste of her mouth. He had forgotten none of it and it was all just as sweet as it always had been. Time stood still. Moved backwards, in fact, because for a few seconds Fletch completely forgot the pain and anger he had associated with memories of exactly this kind of physical contact. His hands moved of their own accord to rest above Kelly’s hips, to slide up over her ribs, his thumbs grazing her breasts before he pulled her deeper into the kiss.
It was the sound Kelly made that broke the spell, a tiny mew halfway between a sign and a moan. The well-remembered sign that the kiss was not going to be nearly enough to satisfy her. Somehow the addition of the extra sense triggered an overload switch and Fletch knew precisely where he was and what was happening. What he didn’t want to happen. He let go of Kelly’s body and used his hands to disentangle her arms from around his neck. He pushed her away firmly enough to make her stagger slightly.
‘I don’t want this, Kelly.’
‘You don’t really hate me, do you, Fletch?’ Dark blue eyes held an appeal that was difficult to resist. ‘If you hadn’t loved me, you wouldn’t still be so angry with me.’ The eyes filled with tears. ‘I made a dreadful mistake, Fletch. And I’m sorry. I feel so…so…’ Kelly paused and swallowed. She suddenly looked a lot paler than she had a minute ago. ‘Sick,’ she finished. ‘Oh, hell, Fletch. I’m going to be sick!’
Fletch held her head as she leaned into the nearest available screen of grape leaves.
‘Feel any better?’ he enquired wryly a minute later.
Kelly looked terrible. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead and pushed damp curls behind her right ear. She didn’t look at Fletch. Or at Joe as he completed his search for her.
‘I guess you don’t feel like coming to the nightclub, then?’
‘Sorry, Joe,’ Kelly said faintly. ‘I’m not feeling very well.’
Fletch winked at Joe. ‘I think I’d better take Kelly home.’
She offered no protest this time. Kelly handed over her car keys and followed Fletch. She climbed into the front passenger seat of her car, leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘I’m never, ever going to drink alcohol again.’
‘Two glasses of wine in a short space of time when you’ve never touched the stuff before probably isn’t a good idea,’ Fletch agreed. ‘At least you’ve got rid of most of it. You’ll feel better very soon. Now—are you still living out in the sticks with your mother?’
‘Yes.’ Kelly felt too awful to try and think up anywhere else to go right now. It wasn’t just the effects of the alcohol. She was mortified by her behaviour. She had dumped Fletch because she’d thought he’d been drunk when he hadn’t been. Now she was drunk and he was looking after her. Fletch was right in that the effects of the remaining alcohol in her system were wearing off quickly, but she wasn’t feeling any better. The more sober Kelly became the worse she felt.
What was worse—much worse—than the drinking was that she had told him how she felt. She had kissed him with all the passion she had unknowingly bottled up for so long. And he had rejected her. Pushed her away. Told her that he didn’t want her.
It was a twenty-minute drive to the flower farm on the outskirts of Christchurch that Kelly and her mother had purchased together soon after her father’s imprisonment. It had been a new start for both of them, with all the promise of a brighter future, and right now it was a haven that Kelly was looking forward to reaching. She kept her eyes firmly closed to discourage any conversation. She didn’t want to talk to Fletch any more. After this, she never even wanted to see him again.
‘Here we are.’ The car tyres were crunching over the gravel driveway.
Kelly opened her eyes reluctantly as the vehicle stopped. She reached for the doorhandle. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered.
‘Are you going to be all right now?’ Fletch was peering towards the house. ‘I don’t think anyone’s home. Unless your mother’s gone to bed already.’
‘Probably.’ Kelly opened her door. ‘It’s pretty late, isn’t it?’
‘Nearly eleven.’ Fletch was still staring at the house. ‘Does your mother usually leave the front door open when she’s gone to bed?’
‘Of course not. I’ve got my own key.’ Kelly was pleased to find she was thinking clearly again. Now all she needed was something for her headache and a good night’s sleep and she could forget all about this whole horrible evening. She climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind her.
The sound had a fainter echo. It wasn’t until Fletch was standing beside her that Kelly realised it had been the sound of his own door closing.
‘I don’t like this.’
‘What?’ For a wild second Kelly thought he meant that he didn’t want them to part on such a bad note. That he had changed his mind about rejecting her. But Fletch wasn’t looking at Kelly. He was staring ahead of them at the front door of the house.
Kelly stared, too. And blinked. Perhaps her brain wasn’t as clear as she’d thought. It wasn’t that the door was unlocked—it was standing open. An invitation to enter a totally unlit house. Kelly swallowed. She didn’t like it either.
‘Stay here,’ Fletch ordered. ‘I’m going to have a look inside.’
Kelly let him go ahead but only because it took a second or two to break the stunning effect that the implications of the open door generated. The hall light was on by the time Kelly ran up the steps to the verandah. The light in the sitting room that led from the hallway at the front of the house was also on. Kelly stopped abruptly when she saw Fletch crouched in the middle of the room. A figure lay sprawled in front of him. Kelly could see that she was unconscious. She could also see some of the injuries that had been inflicted.
‘Oh, my God!’ she breathed. ‘Mum!’
Fletch glanced up swiftly at the sound of Kelly’s voice. ‘She’s alive,’ he said curtly. ‘Call an ambulance, Kelly.’
CHAPTER NINE
NEIL FLETCHER’S leadersh
ip ability and professional skills had never been more welcome.
‘Have you called the ambulance?’
‘They’re on their way. ETA twelve minutes.’
‘Good girl. Have you got a kit available? A stethoscope and BP cuff?’
Kelly nodded. She was back only seconds later with the kit she carried in her car.
‘Hold her head for me, Kelly. We can’t rule out a C-spine injury.’
Kelly had to swallow a huge lump in her throat as she touched the matted, bloodstained hair on one side of her mother’s head. Fletch removed a stethoscope and then a penlight from the kit. He listened to her chest then lifted Kath Drummond’s eyelids one at a time and shone the bright beam onto her pupils.
‘Her airway’s clear at the moment but I don’t like the bruising on her neck. I think she may be in for some pharyngeal oedema. Pupils are a bit sluggish but I couldn’t find any obvious skull fracture.’ Fletch glanced up at Kelly’s white face. ‘Talk to her, Kelly. She’s not responsive but she may still be able to hear you.’
‘Mum?’ Kelly’s voice cracked and she had to try again. ‘It’s OK, Mum. You’re going to be all right. Fletch is taking care of you.’
Fletch was checking the bruised area on Kath’s neck again. Then he felt the bones of her face. One eye was blackened and swelling rapidly—it would soon be impossible to check pupil reactivity on that side. A lip was split and had bled copiously. Kelly was also aware of the blood seeping between her fingers.
‘I need a dressing, Fletch. She’s still losing blood from this head wound.’
‘Hmm.’ Fletch’s gaze wandered for a moment. ‘It looks like she fell backwards and hit her head. There’s blood on the corner of that coffee-table.’
Kelly fought off a wave of nausea as she watched Fletch rip open a package containing a large gauze pad. He folded the dressing and put his hand over Kelly’s to keep their patient’s head stable as he slipped the dressing over the wound. Then he pressed Kelly’s hand down.
‘Keep firm pressure on that.’ The instruction was unnecessary but welcome nonetheless. So was the contact of Fletch’s hand. Kelly caught his gaze and that gave her additional strength. Thank God he was here. She could handle this. Fletch would make sure of that.
‘You realise she’s been attacked?’ Fletch asked quietly. ‘It looks as though someone’s tried to strangle her. We’ll have to call the police.’ There was a deeper question in Fletch’s eyes. A question that was laced with concern. ‘Have you got any idea why this might have happened? Or who might be responsible?’
Kelly bit her lip. She closed her eyes tightly as she hesitated for a second. Then she shook her head. She should tell him that she had a very good idea of who and why, but she couldn’t. The shameful secret had been buried too long and Fletch hadn’t expected any answers anyway.
Kelly kept hold of her mother’s head and watched as Fletch finished his assessment. He checked for chest and abdominal injuries, listened to her breathing again, took her blood pressure and pulse and monitored her condition and level of consciousness. He kept Kelly informed as he went.
‘Chest is clear and abdo’s soft.
‘BP’s 110 on 70. Your mum’s not normally hypertensive, is she? Is she on any kind of medication?’
Kelly shook her head. ‘She’s very healthy. She doesn’t have any cardiac or respiratory conditions. She’s not diabetic. She’s never had a hospital admission.’ Though she should have, Kelly added silently. The GP had dealt with injuries in the past that should have been seen in hospital. And sometimes even the GP hadn’t seen them. Kelly took a deep breath. ‘She was concussed once—a few years ago.’
Fletch’s glance was sharp. ‘How did that happen?’
What had the story been? ‘She fell and hit her head on a kitchen cupboard.’
‘Was she KO’d?’
‘Very briefly.’
‘Was she assessed in ED?’
‘No. She refused to go near the hospital.’ Kelly looked away from Fletch. ‘I know, I know. I tried to persuade her. I kept a very close eye on her. I think she had headaches for a few weeks afterwards but there were no indications of any serious repercussions.’
Fletch rubbed his knuckle on her mother’s collarbone. ‘Kath? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.’
Kath groaned and tried to move her head.
‘It’s OK, Mum.’ Kelly increased her grip on the sides of her mother’s head. ‘Don’t try to move. We’re looking after you. You’re going to be all right.’ She could hear the siren getting closer now. It was the first time Kelly had experienced the kind of relief that sound could produce. The equipment and expertise her mother needed was on its way.
Had she been given a choice, Kelly would have picked Callum Jones to be leading the ambulance crew but as they were on their rostered days off he was the last person she actually expected to see come through the door.
‘Callum! What are you doing on the road?’
‘Overtime.’ Callum wasn’t smiling. ‘Control said this was your home address.’ He was still looking at Kelly as he removed a high-concentration oxygen mask from the bag attached to the portable cylinder.
‘It is,’ Kelly confirmed. ‘This is my mum, Kath.’
‘What happened?’
Kelly paused just long enough for Fletch to give her a curious glance before speaking himself. ‘She’s been beaten up. She was unresponsive when we found her. Facial injuries, query fractured cheekbone, split lip, head injury and some nasty bruising on her neck. Looks like someone’s had a go at strangling her.’
‘Trachea’s midline.’ Callum was looking at the fingermarks on Kath’s neck as he slipped the oxygen mask into place. He touched the swollen cheekbone gently and shook his head. ‘Have the police been called?’
‘Not yet.’
‘It wasn’t a sexual attack, was it?’
‘Oh, God!’ Kelly hadn’t even thought of that. ‘No…he wouldn’t have done something like that.’
Both Callum and Fletch gave her a strange look. Callum looked away quickly. ‘How long has she had that stridor?’
‘It’s been increasing over the last couple of minutes. Probably pharyngeal oedema. Maybe we should intubate now while we’ve got the opportunity.’
Callum nodded. ‘Why don’t you do that, Fletch? I’ll get a line in and start some fluids.’ He glanced at his crew partner. ‘Mandy, get hold of the police and then bring a stretcher in. Grab a collar as well.’
There was nothing that Kelly needed to do other than provide stability and reassurance. She watched as the team around her efficiently did everything they needed to do to prepare their patient for transport. Fletch did not seem to consider relinquishing the care of Kath to the paramedics, and both he and Kelly remained with the crew as they travelled back to hospital. They passed a police car with its lights and siren on going in the opposite direction. The police would presumably examine and secure the scene at the house before arriving at the hospital to continue their enquiries.
Fletch took control of the trauma room team and Kelly stayed with her mother. Kath’s breathing was stabilised, sedation and more pain relief administered, X-rays were taken and a CT scan arranged. Kelly provided the information needed on personal details and past medical history.
‘Don’t forget the previous head injury,’ Fletch reminded her. ‘That’s significant.’
Fletch left the trauma room when he needed to talk to the neurosurgical registrar.
‘I’ll organise Theatre. We’ll take her straight up after the CT. I’m pretty sure we’re going to find a haematoma that needs draining. We don’t want intracranial pressure rising any further.’
The loud banging on the outside door of the ambulance loading bay covered Fletch’s affirmative reply. Both men looked towards the source of the sound. An ambulance crew was attempting to shift a middle-aged man away from the doors so that they could bring a stretcher in. Fletch could hear the shouting as the doors opened.
‘You can’t t
ell me to get lost. You can get stuffed, mate.’ The words were slurred. ‘I’m coming in to find her.’
He pushed past the ambulance officers, staggered and almost fell. The triage nurse was now aware of what was happening.
‘Call Security,’ she advised the booking clerk. ‘Now!’
The internal doors had opened automatically and the inebriated man gazed around the emergency department triumphantly.
‘Where the hell is she?’ he demanded loudly. ‘I’ve got something I want to say to the interfering little bitch.’
Fletch was the closest person to the unwelcome intruder. ‘Who is it that you’re looking for?’ If he could keep him talking for a minute or two, the security officers would have a chance to get here before anyone was threatened more than verbally.
‘She’s always been trouble.’ The man peered at Fletch. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘A doctor.’
‘You don’t look like a doctor.’ Alcohol-laden fumes washed over Fletch as the man leaned towards him. Shorter and leaner than Fletch, unshaven and with bloodshot eyes, he didn’t look like he would take too much strength to manage, but who knew whether he was concealing any weapons? The anger the man radiated was enough to make him much more dangerous than his size would suggest.
‘Five years,’ he informed Fletch with disgust. ‘Five whole years without a bloody drink, and for what? So she can tell me to get stuffed. She’s getting rid of me.’ He spat on the floor. ‘I know who told her to say that and she’s going to pay. Big time.’
‘What’s your name?’ Fletch could see two security officers advancing.
‘None of your bloody business.’ The touch of a security officer on his arm was enough to further enrage the man. He took a swing at Fletch and missed as the doctor ducked sideways. Then he aimed a fist at the security officer. He was stronger than he looked and the scuffle to control him took enough time and effort to create chaos. A trolley was upended. A woman screamed. And the door to the trauma room opened.
For a split second, the sense of déjà vu was enough to negate any reality in the scene. Kelly’s instinctive reaction was to protect her mother. She closed the door behind her and stood with her back against the large handle. The prod of metal against her spine was real enough. And so was what she was facing. Kelly’s past had come to claim her. There was no escape.
CONSULTANT IN CRISIS Page 14
