Accidental Rendezvous

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She hated small spaces, but there were times when you just had to forget about things like that. She squirmed through the narrow opening left by the bent roof, and laid her hand on the lady’s shoulder.

She moaned and turned her head towards Sally, but she couldn’t speak.

‘It’s all right, I’m going to help you,’ Sally said with a quick squeeze to her shoulder. Talking softly to reassure her patient, she rapidly checked her symptoms.

The woman had distended jugular veins, which meant that the blood vessels in her chest were being compressed and causing a build-up of pressure. Her chest seemed distended on the left side, although it moved less when she breathed in and out, and she was restless and her pulse was rapid. The picture was consistent with a lung leaking air into the chest and collapsing the lungs—rapidly fatal if left untreated.

Sally turned her head and reported to Nick. ‘I think it is a tension pneumothorax,’ she said. ‘The signs all fit. She’s looking pretty rough.’ She ran through the symptoms and he nodded.

‘Certainly sounds like it. Can you get enough access to do a decompression?’

She looked at the woman’s chest. The simple answer was no, but the simple answer meant that she’d die. ‘Yes, I can do it,’ she said firmly. If she could just get the needle in at the right angle …

‘OK. I’ll talk you through it. Find the second or fourth intercostal space, and insert the needle along the upper border of the rib. Don’t go below it, you’ll get the artery and nerve. I’ll hand you the needle and a wipe now.’

‘Pass me scissors first, her blouse is in the way,’ she said, and, taking them, she sliced away the clothes over the woman’s collar-bone and then handed them back. ‘Right, let’s have a wipe and the needle.’

He talked her through it, and seconds later there was a little pop, and a rush of air through the end of the cannula.

‘OK, can you slide the catheter in now and take the needle out?’ he asked, and when she’d done that and had checked it was still venting, she taped it in place and wriggled back out.

‘She’s looking better,’ she said, ‘but she needs to come out of there fast. I don’t think I can do anything else in there, the space is too tight.’

Nick nodded, and hailed the fire brigade officer who was in charge of freeing the casualties. ‘We need to get this lady out fast.’

‘Give me ten more minutes and we’ll be with you. Can she last that long?’

Sally shrugged. ‘I hope so.’

‘We need to reassess the others,’ Nick said briskly. ‘Status can change very rapidly under these conditions.’

Just then they were hailed by the paramedic working on the person with the trapped and bleeding leg, and they had no choice but to leave their lady with the pneumothorax. With a last glance over her shoulder, Sally followed Nick and found herself down in the passenger footwell of the BMW, applying a compression bandage to the lacerated limb to try and prevent any further blood loss while the fire brigade worked on the bulkhead with the air cutters.

It was only a few moments before he was released, and then Nick left the other casualties he was treating and came over to supervise his extraction from the car and make sure he was stable before he was whisked away to hospital.

Most of the casualties were suffering from cuts and bruises, and some were dealt with on the spot by the ambulance staff and taken to hospital for a routine check-up; others went straight off in the ambulances for treatment of fractures and stitching of lacerations once their condition was known to be stable.

Once the critical patients were dealt with, Nick and Sally turned their attention to the noisy ones—anyone who could make a fuss was going to live at least a few more minutes, and they worked their way through them as rapidly as possible.

The lady with the pneumothorax was freed after half an hour, and they broke off to supervise her removal and dispatch before going back to the less seriously injured.

Finally everyone had been dealt with, and Nick straightened up and stripped off his gloves, scrubbing his face on his shoulder in a weary gesture that tugged at Sally’s heartstrings.

‘Well, at least we didn’t lose anyone else,’ she said softly, and he nodded.

‘I know. Right, we need to get back to the unit. No doubt they’ll be in chaos.’

They stripped off their yellow coats and stashed them in the boot, along with the depleted bags of emergency supplies, and then Nick reversed back out of the wreckage that surrounded them and they drove slowly away, leaving the police to clear the crumpled cars away and get the road open.

‘It’s nearly five again,’ he said to her as they pulled up outside the hospital a short while later.

Sally sighed. ‘I know. Maybe one day I’ll knock off on time.’

‘I shouldn’t hold your breath,’ he said with a chuckle, and she smiled wryly.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not. I wonder if they still need me, or if I can get away?’

Nick cut the engine and looked across at her, then reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. ‘Nobody’s indispensable, Sal,’ he said softly. ‘Why don’t you go home? You look all in.’

She dragged her eyes from his and turned away, reaching blindly for the doorhandle. ‘I’m fine. I want to make sure my pneumothorax lady is OK before I go, if I do nothing else.’

‘OK, but then you go,’ he said firmly.

She made a noncommittal noise and opened the door, climbing out and looking towards the doors. The waiting room was full, no doubt with people who’d been delayed because of the crash and put to the back of the queue. If she stayed, she could help them get through the backlog quicker—

‘No.’

He’d appeared beside her; she glanced up into his face and saw his eyes were filled with gentle understanding. ‘No, what?’ she asked defensively. ‘I’m my own boss, Nick.’

‘You always were,’ he reminded her, and there was a thread of reproach in his voice.

She felt a twinge of guilt, and then reminded herself of the facts. ‘I only refused to move to Manchester with you because our relationship was going nowhere.’

‘Was it? I didn’t know where it was going. I wanted to find out. It was you who didn’t care.’

‘I cared!’ she exclaimed. ‘You told me to forget it, because I wouldn’t drop everything and go with you to the other end of the country! And then, when I tried to contact you, you didn’t bother to ring.’

He paused, his eyes searching. ‘I did try and ring,’ he said quietly. ‘I tried that number you gave me several times. Nobody had ever heard of a Staff Nurse Clarke. I assumed, in the end, that you must have been working for an agency, so I rang all the agencies I could get hold of. None of them had a Sally Clarke registered with them. I didn’t understand. I thought, if it was important enough, you’d ring me again—but you didn’t.’

She looked away, her heart pounding. She didn’t need this conversation—not now, when she was tired and stressed and pulled in all directions.

‘So what happened, Sal?’ he asked. ‘Where were you? How did you disappear?’

‘I—left,’ she lied, and opened the boot, hauling out bags. ‘Come on, we need to get inside and make ourselves useful.’

‘You’re avoiding me.’

It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t bother to answer. She just picked up a bag, slung the straps over her shoulder and headed off towards A and E, leaving Nick behind her to deal with the other bag.

After a second she heard the boot lid slam and the click of the central locking, and his firm, crisp footsteps followed her. As they reached the door he grasped her arm and turned her towards him, his eyes glittering with determination.

‘Sally, I want to know. Why did you ring me—and why did you disappear?’

His voice was controlled, but he was angry, she could tell—angry and not about to be fobbed off again. She had to give him something, so she gave him a carefully doctored version of the truth.

‘I wanted to speak to you,’ she said evenly, avoiding those piercing blue eyes. ‘A member of my family was in hospital—I just needed to talk to you. I didn’t contact you again because it didn’t matter any more. It was no longer relevant.’

One of the nurses hailed them, and she turned away and pulled her arm back. ‘Come on, we’re needed,’ she told him, and headed through the doors.

‘What do you mean, no longer relevant?’ he asked, pulling her to a halt again.

Sally swallowed and forced herself to meet his eyes, praying that the emotion she was feeling didn’t show.

‘She died.’

He sighed and thrust a hand through his hair. ‘Oh, Sal, I’m sorry. Someone special?’

She rammed down the huge wave of pain that threatened to rise up and swamp her.

‘Yes. Very special,’ she said honestly, and turned away, blinded by sudden tears. ‘Very special,’ she repeated in a whisper, and all but ran away from him down the corridor to the stores.

There she dumped the bag, hung her coat up on the peg and headed back out to the work station. Angela, the senior sister, was there, filling out notes, and she looked up and smiled distractedly.

‘Good grief, Sally, isn’t it time you went home?’ she asked.

‘Do you need me?

The smile softened. ‘We always need you, but you look bushed.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘In fact, you look like hell. Go home. Have a nice strong whisky in the bath—it’ll do you good.’

‘I might do that,’ Sally said with a vain attempt at a smile. ‘How’s my pneumothorax?’

‘Doing fine. She’s gone up to the ward.’

‘Good. Right, I’ll go, then.’ She fumbled her things out of the locker in the staffroom and headed for the door, only to find Nick standing in her way.

‘Not now, please,’ she said wearily, right at the end of her tether.

‘When, then? Tomorrow? The next day? Or never?’

She closed her eyes, her control hanging by a thread. ‘Please, Nick,’ she begged, and she felt his hands close over her arms and support her.

‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’ he asked gruffly, and she felt the unwanted tears welling again.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, a little choked. ‘Just tired. Let me go, Nick.’

Slowly, reluctantly, he released her, and she all but ran to her car, driving away as quickly as the traffic would allow. She held on until she got home, until the door closed behind her, and then finally the dam burst.

CHAPTER THREE (#ufbae4c60-2757-5e8e-bd8e-dea7695ce053)

TROUBLED, Nick watched Sally go, not at all convinced that he believed her story—or at least, not all of it, and not in the form in which it had been presented to him.

There was something she wasn’t telling him—something major, something that had torn her apart. He knew her too well to be fobbed off, just as he knew she was hurting now.

‘Ah, Nick, just the guy I was looking for,’ Ryan said, coming up behind him. ‘Could I put you in charge of the waiting-room contingent? I think we’re OK on the RTA now, it’s just tidying up, but that lot in there could use some fast professional decision-making and they’re a bit short-handed—Toby’s rather out of his depth. You want to handle it for me?’

‘Sure. I reek of diesel, though—I ended up kneeling in it. I need a minute to change.’

‘I don’t suppose they’ll even notice,’ Ryan assured him.

Dragging his eyes from the door, he nodded and went in search of a white coat and clean trousers. He couldn’t deal with Sally until later and, besides, he didn’t have her address. He’d have to find a way to wheedle it out of someone—but who? Ryan would never give it to him, always assuming he knew it anyway, but one of the girls might if he used his charm.

He smiled grimly. It was unfair and unethical, but there were times, like this, when that was just tough. He headed for the waiting room and bided his time.

It wasn’t hard, in the end. As he was finishing off, he simply asked Angela, the senior sister on duty, if she had Sally’s phone number. ‘She left something in Ryan’s car, and I don’t know if she needs it. I thought I’d ring her—if it’s important I could drop it round to her on my way home.’ He cranked up the charm, and she crumpled like a paper bag.

Stage one, he thought, pocketing the number. Now for the telephone directory. He looked up Clarke, scanned down the ‘S’s until he found her number and, bingo, he had her address.

Excellent. All he had to do now was find it, and a walking road map strolled into the department at that point. With a grim smile, he approached the policeman and showed him the road name.

‘It’s a colleague—I have to drop something round there and I don’t know the area. I wonder if you could direct me?’

‘Sure. Know the Old London Road? It’s off there—small, fairly new development. You can’t miss it.’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’m new here. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘No matter, I’ll jot it down for you.’ The policeman took the piece of paper with Sally’s address on it and sketched out a neat map. ‘There you go, that should get you there.’

Nick wondered if the small victory showed in his eyes. ‘Cheers, mate,’ he said, clapping the man on the shoulder, and within minutes he was on his way.

He dived home first and showered and changed to wash the smell of blood and diesel off his skin, and then, dressed in clean jeans and a polo shirt, he checked the sketch map against his road atlas, got back in the car and set off.

It was impossible to miss, as the policeman had said, but a real maze. Still, at least it was well lit and he could see the road names clearly. He turned into Sally’s road, crawled along until he spotted her number and pulled over, studying it for a moment.

It was a pleasant little house, he thought. Neat, tidy, nothing fantastic, but there were trees in the street and it looked a decent neighbourhood. The house was semi-detached, but staggered so that only part of it was linked to the next house, and it gave the illusion of more privacy.

There was a car on the drive, a sensible little navy blue Fiesta not quite in its first flush of youth, exactly the sort of car he pictured her driving—exactly like the car the injured woman had been trapped in today. Had it worried her? Very likely.

Pondering his reception, he got out of his car and approached the house. There were lights on at the back, but the hall was dark behind the glass door and the outside light remained firmly unlit. He rang the doorbell and wondered idly if she owned the house. Probably. She’d always wanted security. She would have bought one by now, he was almost sure of it, and this was probably within her reach.

The hall light came on, and through the glass he saw a figure approaching. She opened the door and looked up at him, and her face hardened.

‘Nick, no,’ she said, trying to shut the door, but the pain in her eyes was more than he could bear and he eased the door open and went in, closing it softly behind him.

She turned away and he followed her, catching her shoulders and turning her gently to face him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but she held his gaze defiantly.

‘I don’t recall inviting you in,’ she said, and her voice was cold. ‘You might like to leave before I call the police.’

A sensible man would have walked away, but Nick had never been sensible where Sally was concerned. He shook his head.