From Single Mum to Lady Page 4

  Jandy felt the familiar ripple of adrenalin kicking through her body as they waited for the ambulances to arrive. It was peculiar to Casualty—that tremor of excitement mixed with apprehension in dealing with absolutely any injury or illness thrown at them, and often time was not on their side. Split-second decisions had to be made and the staff in the department were the first line of defence.

  Tilly nibbled at her nails nervously. ‘It’s nerveracking, not knowing what you’ll get. I hate these horrible accidents. I’m frightened I’ll faint or something.’

  Jandy placed a reassuring hand on Tilly’s arm—the young nurse had only been in the department a few weeks and it was a very fast learning curve for all the students.

  ‘It’s always a bit scary—knowing that how we deal with patients here can determine the outcome of their eventual recovery. And every case is different,’ she admitted. ‘But once we’re in the thick of it, there’s no time to think. You put everything else out of your head.’

  Patrick stood near the door, looking down the drive where the ambulances would come from. He turned and smiled at the young nurse. ‘But this is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Being able to turn your hand to anything. In the end it becomes instinctive. It’s exciting!’

  He grinned at Jandy, eyes dancing with anticipation, confidently looking forward to the challenge of the unknown. Everyone’s idea of the perfect doctor, she thought wryly, his hospital greens seeming to emphasise his athletic physique. She was uneasily aware that she was just a little too conscious of Patrick’s attraction and that devastating easy smile of his, but he was just an ordinary married guy, wasn’t he? Not her type at all. She bit her lip. This man was getting too much under her skin.

  She glanced at Bob Thoms—what a contrast! His brow was furrowed with anxiety as usual. He was a good doctor, painstaking and thorough, but always racked by worries that his best might not be good enough—what a pity she couldn’t find someone like him attractive. Bob was free and single with no hint of arrogance or over-confidence about him—but incredibly dull!

  She forced herself to concentrate on the moment, to push out of her mind the distracting fact that Patrick was standing close to her. Then the flashing blue lights of the ambulances appeared as they came up the drive, and gradually the whine of the sirens died down as they reached the entrance. In a few minutes the doors swished open and three trolleys were being pushed through into the wide passage. A plump woman clutching a large handbag was running beside one of the trolleys, tears streaming down her face. Jandy took her arm gently but firmly and steered her to the side of the passage.

  ‘Come with me for a minute,’ she said gently. ‘Just let the doctors see to the patient…Are you a relative?’

  ‘I’m her mother…Mrs Thorpe…’ The woman clung to Jandy hysterically, hiccuping sobs shaking her, as the shock of the incident she’d just witnessed set in. ‘She…she’s having a baby. Please help her. She mustn’t lose this one—she’s had two miscarriages already.’

  ‘Come with me to the desk and let’s take her details. First, what’s her name?’

  ‘Brenda Evans…she’s twenty-five. She’s been longing for this baby…’

  Mrs Thorpe’s voice started to rise in panic again and Jandy quickly said, ‘Tell me what happened…take it slowly.’

  Gradually the woman started to calm down, and in the telling of the story her mind was forced to concentrate on something other than what was now happening to her daughter.

  ‘This motorbike…it came towards us with no warning. It was going that fast. I saw it coming, and I screamed to Brenda, but it hit her and sent her sprawling on the ground.’ Mrs Thorpe paused for a second to control her tears. ‘Will…will she lose the baby?’

  With the skill born of much practice in calming worried relatives, Jandy led her to a chair and said comfortingly, ‘She’s in very good hands, Mrs Thorpe, and I know they will be monitoring her very closely—especially now they know her medical history. I’m going to get you a cup of tea and then I’ll go and find out just what’s happening to her. You try and calm down—she’ll need you to look after her when she goes home.’

  A paramedic was wheeling Mrs Thorpe’s daughter briskly into one of the small theatres. ‘This is Brenda Evans,’ he said. ‘She’s in a lot of pain, but superficially at least she only seems to have lacerations. BP 100 over 70, pulse 120. Reasonably stable. She’s also seven and a half months pregnant.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Patrick, bending over the supine figure on the trolley.

  ‘It looks like a motorcycle tried to take a corner at speed and hit this lady a glancing blow—she fell forward onto her face.’

  Jandy had come into the cubicle to see what was happening so that she could update the patient’s mother on the latest information. She was watching the girl’s face—there was a large graze on her chin, covered with grit.

  ‘She’s very pale…’ she murmured to Patrick. ‘Obviously she’s in shock, but she’s blinking her eyes all the time. What’s causing that?’

  He frowned and looked at Brenda’s face closely. ‘Rapid blinking is often a sign of a sharp pain. I wonder…Can you speak, Brenda?’

  Brenda grimaced and mumbled something through stiff lips.

  ‘I reckon it’s something to do with her jaw—see how stiffly she’s holding it,’ Patrick said. ‘Moving it seems to cause her extreme discomfort.’

  He ran his hands lightly over her face, watching her reactions carefully. Brenda sucked in her breath and groaned.

  ‘I’m sorry, Brenda,’ he said gently. ‘That’s all I’m going to do at the moment. We’ll give you something for the pain, don’t worry. You’ll be all right—just try and relax and don’t do anything that might move your jaw.’

  He patted her arm, trying to reassure her and with his calm voice showing her that he was very much in charge. You got to know people’s skills quite quickly when you worked with them in Casualty, reflected Jandy. Patrick had a sure touch with patients, knowing that the familiar platitudes would soothe Brenda. He knew that physical and aural contact with a frightened patient could reduce the effects of shock.

  It was one of Karen’s repeated adages to her team: ‘Remember that reassurance is one of the most powerful clinical tools you’ve got.’ When it came to medicine, Dr Sinclair was ticking quite a few boxes so far, admitted Jandy.

  ‘Can you arrange to have Brenda X-rayed ASAP?’ Patrick asked Jandy.

  ‘But she’s pregnant,’ she pointed out.

  Patrick shook his head. ‘She’s going to need surgery on her jaw, I’m afraid, and we’ve got to know exactly what the damage is. The X-ray won’t be over the baby—fortunately she’s late on in her pregnancy.’

  ‘Do you think she’s broken her jaw?’

  ‘The first thing to hit the floor was her chin I reckon—like that!’ Patrick demonstrated this by smacking his fist into his other hand. ‘That’s where the cut is. I’ll bet what’s happened is that the force of the impact has snapped off her left condyle—the part of the bone that forms the hinge of the jaw.’

  ‘She hit her chin just at the wrong point, then.’

  Patrick nodded. ‘Every time she moves her jaw, bone fragments are scraping across the tissue surrounding her ear.’

  Jandy grimaced. ‘Poor woman—that’s seriously painful. What about pain relief?’

  ‘After her X-ray give her ten milligrams of morphine and get her booked into Surgical—I’ll speak to the surgical registrar. We need someone from Maternity to look her over as well. We don’t want her having this baby yet.’

  Jandy split open a pair of lanolin gloves and with exquisite gentleness swabbed the wound on Brenda’s chin. ‘Her mother’s really anxious about her,’ she said. ‘I think it would help if you explained Brenda’s injuries rather than me—you’re the expert.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  Patrick sat down next to Mrs Thorpe on one of the chairs in the corridor, leaning towards her as he describe
d what he thought had happened, giving a short but lucid explanation. Gradually the tension left the woman’s face until she was actually giving a watery smile by the time he was called away to the phone.

  ‘Oh, he’s a lovely man that Dr Sinclair,’ said Mrs Thorpe when Jandy returned from trying to get a slot for Brenda’s X-ray. ‘I feel she’s in really good hands. Could I go and see Brenda now?’

  Jandy smiled. ‘I’m sure it would do her good if you just sat by her and held her hand until they take her for X-rays. The calmer she’s kept, the better.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Mrs Thorpe. The tea and the chat to Patrick about her daughter had composed her and she was ready to cope again. She followed Jandy to the small theatre where her daughter was and sat by her bed, flicking a wondering eye at all the monitoring equipment around the bed.

  ‘Eh, it’s like a space capsule in here,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen so many tubes and dials!’

  She picked up her daughter’s hand and squeezed it. ‘You’ll be alright, love,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve had a chat to that Dr Sinclair—he’s doing his best for you, I know.’

  Patrick popped his head round the curtain. ‘Has the X-ray been booked yet?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a bit of a delay—one of the machines is being serviced and there’s a queue for the other,’ Jandy informed him.

  He frowned. ‘For God’s sake—surely it’s usual to service the machines at a quieter time? How long are they going to be?’

  ‘About twenty minutes, I think.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous! This needs to be done immediately—surely there should be a procedure for urgent cases?’

  Jandy sympathised with him. It was incredibly frustrating to have treatment blocked for the patient, but she also noticed the implied criticism of the hospital. Poor old Delford General wasn’t awash with funds for any more X-ray machines.

  ‘I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do about it. There’s only one machine at the moment for a lot of patients.’

  ‘I’m not accusing you of causing the hold-up,’ he said tersely. Then his tone softened. ‘I’m sorry—I’m not knocking Delford, believe me.’

  He looked at her steadily then left the room, and she blushed at his accurate reading of her thoughts. Actually, she agreed with him that somewhere along the line there had been inefficiency. Perhaps she was being a little too prickly where Patrick was concerned!

  Karen bustled up to Jandy, her pale blue tunic top straining slightly over her full figure, her face pink from exertion. Jandy often wondered why Karen was so plump as she seemed to run everywhere, and had an inexhaustible supply of energy.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ she puffed. ‘I think we’re under control now. Dr Vernon’s booked the head injury into the neurological ward for obs, and Brenda Evans will be prepped for Theatre later.’ She shot a look at her watch. ‘Time for the handover soon and then home, sweet home, thank goodness!’ Her voice dropped. ‘By the way, I’m rather impressed by Patrick Sinclair—aren’t you? As I said before, he seems extremely capable!’

  ‘Yes,’ allowed Jandy cautiously.

  He seemed extremely everything—wonderful with his patients and a good clinician. But she still had reservations about this self-assured man and his drop-dead handsome looks—she would see how he performed over the next few weeks! Men like him tended to be arrogant, everything dropping into their laps very easily, and she could see how he might break some poor girl’s heart if he was free. What a good job it was that he was a family man and a no-go area—she’d learned from her own experience that loving a married man was not an option.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I DON’T believe this,’ muttered Jandy, looking at the huge tailback of vehicles round the car park. For the third time that month the car-park barrier had jammed and from her experience it could take at least three quarters of an hour to sort out. Nothing for it but to get the bus and leave the car in the car park—she hated to keep Pippa waiting when she was due to pick up Abigail. It had been a gruelling week and she was tired—although her fears about working with the new registrar had been groundless.

  After two weeks she was beginning to realise that Patrick Sinclair was not only a good doctor but surprisingly easy to work with. She didn’t know much about his family—he never talked much about his life outside the hospital, but he could be a laugh. In fact, she admitted as she trudged to the bus stop, she actually looked forward to coming to work with him. Once she’d even caught herself wishing that he’d been unattached, fantasising about how different her attitude toward him might have been if he was single—but, then, of course, there would have been a deluge of women waiting to snap him up!

  It started to rain as she waited hopefully by the bus stop, then a car drew up in front of her and the passenger window was lowered.

  ‘Can I give you a lift?’ said a familiar voice. ‘It’s getting very wet.’

  Jandy bent down to see who it was and found herself looking into the blue eyes of the very man she’d been thinking of! Patrick was right—the rain seemed to be getting harder all the time and she could feel rivulets of water making their way down her back. It was ridiculous how her heart started thumping at his invitation—it was only a lift in his car, for heaven’s sake, not an indecent proposal!

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘I’d be really grateful, but I may be taking you miles out of your way.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Jump in.’

  Jandy relaxed back in the blessed warmth of the car, and glanced across at Patrick, his strong profile outlined in the dark as he looked in the rear-view mirror before pulling out into the road. Inside the car it felt intimate, cosy. Her eyes fastened on his hands on the steering-wheel, strong, capable hands, and she felt the flutter of excitement she used to feel when she went on a date with someone she liked, anticipating the evening to come. Stop this, she said fiercely to herself. Her reaction to him was becoming almost like the reflex action of a tap on the knee joint. He was a married man she’d only known for two weeks, for heaven’s sake.

  ‘This is good of you,’ she murmured. ‘I would’ve been very late picking Abigail up from the childminder. The barriers in the car park are always getting stuck—it’s the second time I’ve had to leave the car there all night.’

  ‘A damn nuisance for you. How old is your little girl?’

  ‘She’s four—Pippa takes her to and from nursery school, which is wonderful. How about your daughter—what age is she?’

  He smiled. ‘The same age as your Abigail. Her name’s Livy—short for Olivia—and she’s at nursery school as well. I’ll be picking her up from the afterschool club they have there.’

  They had stopped at traffic lights and the glow from a streetlamp fell on a photograph pinned to the dashboard. It showed a curly-headed child in the arms of an attractive, laughing woman. Jandy bent forward to look at it more closely. This must be his wife and daughter. What a lovely family he had—and what a wonderful father he would be, she thought wistfully. That was something Abigail would never know—a father’s love and attention, a man she could always trust throughout her life.

  She smothered a sigh and said brightly, ‘And this is a photo of Livy and your wife, I suppose—they’re very beautiful.’

  Patrick nodded and said briefly, ‘Yes—it’s a good photograph.’

  ‘And is your wife medical?’ asked Jandy, assuming that she worked as Patrick had to pick his daughter up.

  Patrick was silent for a moment and Jandy wondered if he’d heard her, then eventually he spoke, his voice quiet but brutally harsh. ‘My wife died three and a half years ago—she had an accident. Livy doesn’t remember her mother at all.’

  For a second the bald statement hung in the air, horrifying, unbelievable. Patrick looked across at Jandy as she caught her breath in distress.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said more gently. ‘I always have difficulty telling people that—but there’s no easy way to say it.’

  What an idiot
I am, thought Jandy wretchedly. ‘I…I’m so sorry, Patrick. I didn’t mean to pry. I just assumed…’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said tersely. ‘You weren’t to know that Rachel had died…but it’s tough being on your own.’

  There was a weary sadness in his face—Jandy guessed every time he told this story it was like knives going through him. She was silent for a few minutes, contemplating the tragedy that had happened to him—his beautiful young wife killed before her baby grew up and bringing a happy marriage to an abrupt end. He had obviously loved Rachel very much, whereas her love for Terry had long disappeared. Now she only felt contempt for the man who had treated her so badly.

  ‘Being a single parent isn’t easy,’ she said softly. ‘I know, because I’m a single parent as well.’

  He flicked a surprised look at her. ‘That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that. When were you widowed?’ he asked.

  It was so stupid. She was over Terry now, long over him, and yet she still felt treacherous tears welling up in her eyes whenever someone was sympathetic—especially someone like Patrick who’d gone through traumas of his own. Just when she thought she had her emotions under control, something would trigger the sadness of loneliness and rejection. And it wasn’t the thought that Terry had never loved her that upset her now—just the legacy of emotions he’d left her and how he’d changed the person she had once been.

  If she started telling her life story now, she would probably start blubbing properly. And perhaps it would almost sound as if she was trying to compete in the bad-luck stakes if she revealed everything.

  ‘I…I wasn’t widowed—that’s not why I’m single. I’ll tell you another time about it,’ she said quickly, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump of self-pity that had lodged in her throat. ‘But it’s a long boring story.’ With relief she saw that they had arrived at Pippa’s. ‘Ah, here we are. You can drop me off at the gate.’

  ‘I can take you both home if you like.’