Chapter Nineteen

HER four nights of hell were nearly over and all Lorna wanted was to leave and never return, was seriously considering doing that just as soon as this shift was over.

She’d hardly sat down since nine p.m. and the clock was nearing six, and though she’d gone to have a quick rest in the staffroom she’d found James asleep in there.

He’d been called in three times and had clearly given up on going home. He’d been stretched out over several seats, absolutely zonked out, his mouth slightly open, one hand dangling on the floor, the other on his stomach.

He was wearing theatre blues, and the top had lifted to show just a little glimpse of his stomach. Lorna had sat with her cup of instant soup, trying to concentrate on some early morning TV show, except it sounded like her father preaching, so she’d turned her gaze away and stared at James instead.

At his big feet and his thick thighs, and that lovely floppy fringe, and that chest she loved to bite.

And those lips that had so many times kissed her. Never more had she wanted to wake him with one.

And then she’d stared down at the bit she was avoiding looking at, because one of the advantages or disadvantages of threadbare hospital blues was that you could tell James dressed to the left.

It really wasn’t much of a break, so Lorna gave in, rinsed out her cup and headed back out. She settled for gulping a cup of coffee at the nurses’ station and, of course, Abby had to dash past at that point on her way to a patient in Resus.

‘Do you need a hand?’ Lorna called, but Abby just tossed her head.

‘Carry on with your break.’

‘Call this a break!’ Lorna rolled her eyes at Lavinia, who giggled.

‘She’s a great doctor,’ Lavinia said. ‘She just rubs people up the wrong way.’

‘Even you?’ Lorna checked.

‘Even me.’

‘I know she’s a great doctor, I’m living proof after all. I keep reminding myself that she saved my life.’

‘She probably regrets it now.’

It was the first time, the very first time, Lorna glimpsed fitting in, the first time she’d shared a joke or chatted easily with the bitchy clique of the emergency team, and all Lorna knew was that she wanted more.

‘Right!’ Lavinia downed the remains of her mug. ‘We’d better get on and clear this place a bit before the day staff get here. It’s been a shocking weekend.’

‘Has it?’

‘Awful!’ Lavinia nodded. ‘Still, it’s nearly over now.’

She touched wood the second she said it, but it was already too late—the alert phone trilled and even as Ambulance control told her there was a paediatric arrest en route, the ambulance was screaming in. Paramedics raced through the department with a loose-limbed little blue bundle and suddenly, for Lorna, the pressure was on.

‘Where’s Abby?’

‘She’s in with the aneurism,’ May said calmly, her heart sinking as the paramedics laid down their lifeless load. Lorna was bagging the baby as May massaged his chest. ‘The paediatricians are coming,’ she explained, ‘but they’re stuck on ICU. I’ve called the second on call and the second anaesthetist.’

‘Get James.’ Lorna’s voice was wobbly, but she said it quite clearly. She wished in fact that James would walk through the door this very second.

‘He’s just left for home.’

‘Call him to come back,’ Lorna said.

She’d dealt with death. As a rural GP it was part of her life, and she’d even dealt with babies and children, but they had been so few and far between that as she stared down at the little mottled, white scrap, Lorna wondered just what the hell she was doing here—why anyone would want this job, when death was a daily occurrence.

May was delivering massage to the tiny little shell of a life, Lavinia was trying to get IV access and Lorna knew she had to attempt intubation. Often it was done by the time the patient arrived, but in this case the attempt had been unsuccessful and it had been decided to bag the baby and get him to hospital. In the absence of an anaesthetist it was up to her try. She inserted the laryngoscope and suctioned his airway till she could see the epiglottis and vocal cords. She willed herself calm and even though her hands were shaking the tube was passing through and May secured it for her, taking over the bagging as Lorna tried to find a vein on the other fat little arm as Lavinia was having trouble. Her hands were still shaking so violently she must surely miss, but she pushed in the needle and could feel the sweat break out on her brow in sheer relief as she got the little flashback of blood that meant she was in.

‘Nice work,’ May said, telling Lavinia to tape it securely, then helping Lorna with the tiny drug doses that were required in a paediatric arrest. Lorna was doing well herself, because she had dealt with this before and she had kept herself up to date. She was also so obsessive she had read and re-read the protocol till it was taped to her brain.

‘There’s blood in the ear canal…’ She checked his eyes, saw the damage and for a second closed her own. It was wrong to jump to conclusions, so she deliberately didn’t, examining him carefully and drawing on the little diagram. She noticed the swelling on his thigh and the shortened leg that looked as if it was fractured.

She had relatives sobbing in the interview room, an abused baby who was moribund and she wanted to scoop him up and hold him, only she couldn’t. ‘Get X-Ray.’ They were already there and so, too, thankfully the paediatricians, with James running in behind.

The baby was given every chance, every last chance, but everyone knew he wasn’t going to make it. The rush of expertise arrived some fifteen minutes before the little life officially ended, the police were already in with the parents, and Lorna could only stand there as James went in to break the news.

‘Do you want to come with me?’ It was a stupid question, there wasn’t a person on earth who would want to be there, but she knew what he meant, that if this was to be her job then this was the type of conversation she needed to get used to having. The right thing to do would be to say yes, to swallow down the tears that were threatening to choke her, to watch and learn from a more experienced colleague how to deal with the parents and police and myriad conflicting parties before she had to go in and do it by herself—only she couldn’t.

‘I’d rather not.’

‘Lorna.’ James voice was firm. ‘I’ll do the talking. You ought to observe.’

‘I’d rather not,’ she said again, because she’d really rather not.

She was a strange little thing, James thought as he chose to leave it. Like a twig that might snap or break, except that this one bent. According to May, she’d done an outstanding job, which was what mattered the most—it was right that he didn’t stretch her to breaking point by having her in with the relatives.

‘I’ll get him ready for the parents.’ May, lovely, lovely May was matter-of-fact but crying quietly as she wrapped him up and held him in her arms, all the tubes staying in place because this was a coroner’s case.

‘Will they be able to hold him?’ Lorna asked, stroking the white cheek and stunned at the speed at which life ended. ‘I mean…’

‘The courts will decide who’s responsible.’ May hugged the little boy close. ‘Not us. You treat them with dignity and respect even if it kills you inside to do so.’

‘Does it kill you inside?’ Lorna asked, glad somehow that she’d seen May crying, not that there was much evidence now. May had dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue and was waiting for James to tell her to bring the baby to his family. Lorna was relieved that she wasn’t the only one who was utterly devastated by what had just taken place. ‘I mean, do you get used to it all?’

‘Never.’ May said. ‘I’d leave if I did.’

Yes, babies died and, yes, it wasn’t that rare an occurrence in a busy emergency department, but it was still a subdued team that greeted the day staff. The police and family were still there and the baby was too, and everyone was a little bit gentler on everyone else this morning. In fact, no one complained that she took for ever on her notes. Lorna sat with a big mug of tea and wrote up all that she’d done, even managed a smile at a joke from one of the porters, but her face was so pale, her subtle blusher now looked as if it had been slapped on, two streaks of tawny colour down the side of her face. Her hands were shaking when she handed her notes over to the paediatrician and, despite appearances, James knew she was having trouble holding it together. He couldn’t stand the thought of her going home alone to deal with it, instead of letting some of it out here, amongst staff who could give her some support.

When she pulled on her coat, and his on call had officially ended, instead of hanging around to clear the place, he walked through the department with her. He could not let her go home on the underground alone.

And it wasn’t just because she was his ex, or maybe it was, but he had to try and talk to her.

‘Don’t go home yet.’

‘I’m tired.’ She was clipping out of the department and refusing to slow down.

‘You haven’t even cried,’ James said. ‘You cry at everything.’

‘If I start, I don’t think I’ll stop.’

‘You will,’ James promised. ‘You need to go over it, Lorna.’

‘Why?’ she snapped. ‘Is it going to bring him back?’ She was almost running now, but he caught her arm and made her stop, stood in the corridor outside Emergency, which at nine a.m. was crowded with people, and it was neither the time nor the place. Lorna told him as much as he bundled her into a small annexe beside the admissions desk. ‘I’m not surprised that you’re having trouble holding onto doctors. My shift ended more than an hour ago.’

‘Talk to me, Lorna.’

‘No, because I’m tired and I just want to go to bed. I don’t need some touchy-feely session to tell me that what I’m feeling is normal or to give me permission to be angry.’

‘No, you don’t,’ James said, letting her go, because he was crossing the line but, hell, it was hard to be just a colleague around her and it was killing him to let her go home to cry alone. ‘But you do need to—’

‘I need to go home,’ she said. ‘Away from this place. I’m tired of being made to feel useless, I’m tired of being told I’m too slow and I’m too cautious.’

‘You’re doing well.’

‘Oh, please,’ Lorna scoffed. ‘I’ll be told off now for calling you in without Abby’s permission, no doubt!’

‘Abby spoke to me before. She said you’ve really picked up. She told me about the perforated ulcer and how you noticed it when she didn’t.’

‘She told you?’

‘And you know you did a good job with that baby.’

‘Not good enough, though.’

‘Lorna, no one could have saved him. Do you realise what a good job you did in there? You intubated him, you got IV access. You with your shaking hands who’d miss one of my veins managed to get it in to a collapsed baby.’

‘How?’ She asked the bit that she truly didn’t understand, the bit that terrified her most, the bit she was certain she could never do. ‘How can you talk to them, be nice to them, when you know…?’

‘We don’t know, Lorna.’

‘Please.’ She knew not to jump to conclusions, had been very careful not to when she’d been assessing the patient, but now, having read the little boy’s medical history, both of them deep down knew the truth. ‘How can you sit in there with them and be polite, knowing what’s gone on?’

‘Because for me it’s easier,’ James said. ‘Because, like you with your crying, if I started saying all the things I actually wanted to say, then I’m sure I’d never stop.’

He’d always loved kids, had teased her at the start of her marriage that he wanted five at least, and he’d have been such a brilliant father. It was hard to believe that ten years on he wasn’t one yet and it was over between them, except for one thing—except for the one thing they’d never, ever been able to discuss.

And maybe it was because they were finally over, or maybe it was because she was exhausted and drained and weeping inside for that waste of a little boy’s life, that for the first time she said it.

‘We’d have been such good parents.’ Even though he wasn’t pushing her to talk now, even though she could walk away, she chose not to. The floodgates crashed open and pointless as it was because that was just the way life was, finally she said it. ‘It’s not fair, James.’