Emergency at Bayside

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘What are you daydreaming about?’

  Meg shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ How she would love to confide in Kathy—ask her for some insight, find out once and for all if she was wasting her time. Contrary to what Flynn had said about Kathy playing matchmaker, Flynn’s name had never even been brought up once. But Meg knew her sister only too well, and subtle certainly wasn’t her middle name. If Meg even remotely asked about him, and if Flynn did turn out to be single, Kathy would think nothing of seizing the day and engineering a dance or three at the party, or some quiet little dinner with Flynn and Meg making up the numbers—by chance, of course! That was the sort of help she could do without. It was far safer all round to keep quiet and steer the conversation back to the party and the wedding.

  ‘I know that look.’ Kathy picked up the list. ‘Come on, Meg, surely someone there catches your eye? What about Lee—six foot two, blue eyes…?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m ready for a man with three kids,’ Meg said dryly.

  ‘Okay, point taken. How about Harry, then? At least he comes without baggage, and he’s a plastic surgeon so he must be loaded.’

  Meg gave a cynical laugh. ‘He’s certainly not loaded with personality.’

  ‘So you want personality and a clean slate?’ She ran her eye down the paper. ‘Well, that rules out just about everyone here. Looks like you’ll be dancing round your handbag with me and Mum.’

  ‘You’ll be with Jake, remember?’

  Kathy poked out her tongue. ‘Jake’s the last person I’ll be dancing with; he might be gorgeous to look at, but, believe me, propped up at the bar is the best place for him; dancing really isn’t his forte.’

  ‘That’s right; I’d forgotten! Do you remember when Vince and Jake got up and danced at that nightclub? The bouncers thought they were drunk and they’d only been on orange juice all night.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness.’ Kathy blinked slowly a couple of times, her face breaking into a grin. ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention Vince without getting that misty look in your eyes.’

  Meg nodded. ‘I’m so over him, Kathy. That accident was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. Hanging upside down in a smashed up car is a pretty good reminder of how precious life is, and a couple of weeks licking my wounds, with an excuse to cry if I wanted to, was just the tonic I needed. Vince could walk through the door this moment and tell me he’s left his wife and I’d just promptly show him the way out. I’ve wasted enough of my time on him.’

  ‘Well, good for you.’ Kathy’s beaming smile belied the trace of doubt in her voice, but Meg homed in on it straight away.

  ‘I’m over him,’ Meg insisted.

  Kathy put her hands up in mock defence. ‘I believe you! And to prove it, how about I treat you to a glass of champagne to celebrate the demise of ‘‘bloody Vince’’? There’s a new wine bar just opened on the Bay Road…’

  ‘Not for me. I’m on a late shift.’

  ‘Well, an iced coffee, then? I need to get some shoes for the party. I could really use your opinion.’

  Meg shook her head. ‘When did you ever need my opinion on anything? Anyway, you know I can’t walk in a shoe shop without buying something. I’ve already spent enough on my dress—speaking of which, that’s why I’m here. I’m heading off to the beach to get a bit of sun; I’m so pale you can’t tell where the fabric ends and my legs start. Look, tell Mum I’m sorry I missed her. I’ll pop back for a shower before I go to work, but tell her I’ve already eaten or she’ll be warming up the soup in the freezer!’

  ‘If you don’t stay for lunch you know she’ll moan that you’re using the house as a beach hut again?’ Kathy warned

  ‘I’ll risk it.’ Grabbing her bag from the couch, Meg gave her sister a cheery wave and, savouring the delicious morning, walked the couple of hundred yards from her parents’ house to the beach.

  Slipping off her sarong, Meg laid it on the sand before stretching out luxuriously on it. Closing her eyes, she waited for the little dots dancing before her eyes to fade, wriggling her toes into the warm sand and feeling the heat of the late morning sun bathing her body. This was the best time of year to be at the beach; apart from a couple of mothers with young children, and a few older couples strolling along, the place was practically deserted. It would be a different story in two weeks’ time, when the schools broke up for the summer break. Then she would have to share the beach with seemingly hundreds of screaming children and overwrought parents, but for now it was pretty near perfect.

  Perfect, even.

  An alarm clock would be good, though, Meg thought as she drifted off, her mind flicking back for a moment to her accident, remembering Flynn beside her, holding her hand as they waited for the firefighters to secure the tree, imagining the sound of the ocean. It was almost a pleasant memory, made better because this time she could close her eyes, this time she could sleep…

  At first Meg felt only relief when a child’s screams dragged her awake. Focussing on her watch, she stood up with a yelp and shook the sand out of her sarong. Never mind the soup, there wouldn’t even be time for a shower at this rate. Fuzzy from sleep, and the bright midday sun, it took Meg a second or two to register that the screaming hadn’t stopped—in fact it had multiplied. A woman was screaming.

  Loudly.

  Swinging around, Meg watched in horror as she saw a woman running hysterically along the beach, twisting and turning, carrying a screaming child in her arms.

  A bleeding child.

  That second was all it took for Meg to break into a run, to shout her orders to the stunned onlookers who were watching helplessly, frozen with shock.

  ‘Get me a towel. Someone call for an ambulance.’

  The screaming grew louder, and Meg acknowledged with relief that the child was screaming also as the woman practically threw the infant into her arms. ‘He stood on a bottle. Oh, God—help him, please!’

  ‘It’s all right, darling.’ Despite her own fear Meg spoke soothingly to the child. Lying him down, she immediately raised his leg. The blood was pouring from his foot. Meg swallowed hard. It wasn’t pouring; it was pumping. He had a large arterial bleed. Immediately she applied pressure behind his knee, holding the leg as high as she could as an elderly gentleman thrust a towel at her.

  ‘Here—can you use this?’

  ‘I can’t let go of his leg.’

  ‘Tell me what you want me to do.’

  Meg nodded, relief washing over her. Her fear was real. Nothing scared her in Emergency—there she knew what she was doing, could put her hand on the necessary equipment in an instant, summon help at the touch of a button or the buzz of an intercom. But here she was on her own. Apart from this man no one had done a single thing to help—all were standing uselessly. Meg didn’t blame them for a moment, but it didn’t help matters in the least. But this man was sensible. The sweat was pouring off him, and there was a grey tinge to his lips, but he was at least listening, ready to help. ‘Hold his leg up and push like I am behind his knee. I need to have a look before I wrap it up.’

  As soon as Meg released the pressure the blood started spurting again. By now the child had stopped screaming; he was lying there shocked and pale, which worried Meg far more than the noise.

  ‘Has someone called for an ambulance?’ she asked as she examined the foot. There was no glass visible so, taking the towel, she wrapped it tightly around the foot, pulling it as hard as she could in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. ‘Has someone called an ambulance yet?’

  One of the women was frantically pushing the buttons on her mobile. ‘It isn’t charged.’

  ‘Has anyone else got a mobile?’

  ‘I could run up to one of the houses,’ the man offered. Meg looked down at the child. He was becoming drowsy, and despite her best efforts already the towel was bright red. ‘Or my car’s just there. My wife could drive…’

  Meg did a swift calculation. By the time he had run up, and assuming he got straight in to some
one’s house, it would be at least another ten minutes until the ambulance got here—and that was if their luck was in. If they dashed to a car she could have him straight in within five minutes.

  ‘We’ll go by car. I have to keep pushing—keep his leg up.’

  He nodded. ‘June—go and start the car.’

  Spurred into action, the assembled crowd finally moved, helping to carry the boy the short distance along the beach to the waiting car. The mother sat in the front, sobbing loudly as Meg and her helper squeezed into the back and the car jerked away.

  ‘Drive carefully,’ Meg warned the woman.

  ‘But step on it, love.’ The man gave Meg a small smile. ‘She’s as slow as a snail normally. My name’s Roland.’

  ‘Meg.’

  It was only a short drive, and even as the car pulled away Meg instantly felt calmer. Everything would be fine now. The hospital was in sight, and by emergency standards this wasn’t particularly serious—not in the controlled setting of a hospital anyway.

  ‘Thank goodness you were there.’ The woman had stopped sobbing now, and was swallowing hard to compose herself.

  ‘What’s your son’s name?’

  ‘Toby. I’m Rita.’

  Meg smiled down at the little boy as the car pulled into the ambulance bay. ‘We’ll have you sorted in no time, Toby.

  ‘June, grab a trolley from the entrance and bring it up to the car,’ Meg instructed. But Mike the porter, grabbing a quick smoke between jobs, had already beaten her to it. Pulling the back door open, he popped his head in. ‘Here you go, Meg—anything I can do to help?’

  ‘We just need him on the trolley, but I’ll have to keep his leg up and the pressure on.’

  ‘No worries.’

  Anywhere else they would have looked a curious sight—four adults dressed in their bathers pushing a trolley with a bleeding child—but here at the Bayside Hospital they barely merited a second glance.

  ‘You’re starting your shift a bit early!’ Jess joked. ‘You really can’t stay away from the place, can you?’

  ‘I was supposed to be topping up my tan,’ Meg groaned. ‘It’s pretty deep,’ she added in low tones, so as not to frighten Toby and his mother. ‘Arterial bleed. He lost a lot of blood at the beach.’

  ‘Right.’ Jess nodded, bandaging a huge wad of Combine firmly into place and elevating the foot of the trolley, then taking over pressing behind Toby’s knee. ‘We’ll not disturb it until the doctor gets here. Speaking of which…’ She turned and smiled as Flynn entered.

  ‘What have we got here?’ He barely glanced in Meg’s direction, his eyes firmly fixed on Toby. ‘You’ve been down at the beach, I see, young man.’

  ‘I stood on a broken bottle.’ It was the first time Toby had spoken, and Meg smiled at the little lisping voice.

  ‘There was blood everywhere; he must have lost a gallon.’ This was a slight exaggeration from Rita, but Meg nodded.

  ‘He did lose a lot—the bleed’s arterial. I stopped it with popliteal and direct pressure and we’ve kept it elevated.’

  ‘Good.’ Still his eyes stayed fixed on his young charge. ‘Toby, I’m going to put a little needle into the back of your hand so I can give you some medicine to take away the pain. It will only hurt for a second. I know that you’ve been so brave up to now—can I ask you to be brave for just a moment longer?’

  Toby nodded, but his mother wasn’t convinced. ‘Can’t you numb it first? He hates needles.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Flynn said confidently. ‘Numbing it would take twenty minutes or so to take effect, and I’d like to give him some fluid thorugh a drip and take some blood. He looks a bit shocked, and I’m sure he’d appreciate something to settle him before we take the dressing down.’

  But Rita wanted an anaesthetic. ‘He’ll scream the place down.’

  Meg watched Flynn’s shoulders stiffen a fraction. The only person who was getting upset was Toby’s mum, and if she carried on Toby was likely to start getting anxious again.

  ‘Look, Rita,’ Meg suggested, ‘why don’t we go and grab a cool drink and let the doctor get on with it? It must be very upsetting for you to watch all this.’

  ‘Surely it would be better if I stayed?’

  Meg took a deep breath. Honesty was the best policy, and all that, but she wasn’t sure how well it was going to be received. ‘It’s probably better if we go and get a drink and calm down. The drip will be up by the time we get back and you’ll feel a lot better then.’

  Rita seemed to accept this, and after a rather tearful kiss and hug with Toby allowed herself to be led away.

  ‘Is there anyone you’d like to ring?’ Meg offered once they were in the staff room. Given that both women were dressed in their bathers, apart from the skimpy sarong wrapped around Meg, the waiting room hadn’t seemed an appropriate place to send Rita. Anyway, Meg was desperate for a long cool drink and was sure Rita could use one.

  ‘Just my husband—he’s going to have a fit when I tell him.’ Her hand was shaking as she picked up the telephone. ‘Do you think Toby will need an operation?’

  ‘Yes.’ Meg said simply. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on Toby to try and repair it under local anaesthetic. Do you want me to dial for you?’

  Rita nodded. ‘Useless, aren’t I?’

  Meg shook her head. ‘Don’t say that. You’re his mum; you’re allowed to be upset.’

  As predicted, Toby’s dad didn’t take the news too well, and after Rita had ducked off to the toilet for another quick cry Meg took the opportunity to ring her mother. Mary wasn’t in the best of moods either.

  ‘You just can’t stay away from trouble, can you? And you haven’t even had lunch. How can you do a full shift without a morsel of food in your stomach and no work clothes?’

  ‘I’ve got some spare shoes here, and I can wear Theatre gear. I’ll be fine,’ Meg assured her.

  ‘Fine, my foot.’ Not the greatest choice of words. ‘I’ll bring you up a Thermos of soup.’

  ‘Please, Mum, don’t bother. I’m okay. Honestly,’ she added, but with zero effect.

  ‘Tell that to the patients when you’re fainting over them. I’ll warm it up and bring it straight over. Do you need anything else?’

  Meg looked down at her blood-splattered sarong and her sand-dusted legs. ‘A toiletry bag would be nice.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘Where’s Rita?’ Jess popped her head around the door.

  ‘In the loo. How’s Toby doing?’

  ‘He’s going straight up to Theatre. The plastics had a quick look and they want to get him up now. They need her to come and sign the consent form. How are you?’

  Meg stood up. ‘Desperate for a shower. If my mum comes can you ask her just to drop all my stuff in the changing room? I’ll be round to start my shift when I’m looking a bit more presentable.’

  ‘Sure. Take your time, Meg. I reckon you’ve earned it.’

  Rita appeared then, and Meg left them to it. Her shift hadn’t even started and already she felt as if she’d done a day’s work.

  ‘There you are.’ Flynn loomed into view. ‘Where’s Toby’s mother? The plastics need her to—’

  ‘Sign the consent,’ Meg finished for him. ‘I know—Jess is already onto it. I’m just heading off for a shower.’

  ‘Oh.’ For the first time since her arrival he actually managed to look at her, his eyes flicking down her body. For the last half-hour Meg had been wandering around barefoot, her modesty protected only by a sheer sunflower-emblazoned sarong, yet totally unabashed. Now, under Flynn’s scrutiny, she suddenly felt exposed and woefully inadequately dressed.

  ‘There wasn’t really time to get changed first,’ Meg joked feebly.

  ‘Of course not.’

  His eyes were looking somewhere at the top of her forehead as he cleared his throat, and Meg could have sworn that the beginning of a blush was creeping over his usually deadpan face. She should have gone then—nodded politely and dashed to the refuge of t
he changing rooms. But for some reason her legs simply wouldn’t obey her and she stood there mute, staring back at him, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

  ‘How was the beach—before all this happened, I mean?’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  Something strange was going on. Something strange and delicious. An apparently sedate, normal conversation was taking place, but there was nothing normal about the white-hot look passing between them, and definitely nothing sedate about the pulse flickering relentlessly between her thighs or the sudden swell of her nipples, jutting against the flimsy fabric of her sarong, inching their way closer to Flynn with a will of their own.

  His hand moved up to her face. Meg didn’t flinch, just stood there. The pad of his thumb gently brushed across her cheek. ‘You’ve got sand on your face.’ Her instinct was to reach up and capture his hand, to hold it against her cheek and then guide it down slowly to her aching engorged breasts. But there was nothing she could do except stand there, terrified she might be misreading the blazing signs, painfully aware that a hospital corridor wasn’t the best place to make a complete fool of yourself if sand was the only thing on his mind.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, the tension unbearable. ‘I’d best get on.’

  The changing room was only a few steps away but it seemed to stretch on for ever.

  ‘Meg?’

  She turned slowly, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘I’m looking forward to the party on Saturday.’

  Meg nodded, gripping onto the door handle for dear life. ‘Me too,’ she managed to croak, and, attempting a nonchalant exit, waited until the changing room door was safely closed before slipping onto a wooden bench and resting her burning face in her hands.

  How was she going to survive the afternoon, let alone last until Saturday?

  * * *

  Of course the one time Meg really wanted to be busy and appear professional, the department was practically deserted. Toby was cleared out quickly, and apart from a couple of gastros and the usual lumps and bumps they remained frustratingly quiet.

  ‘Come on, Carla, we can practise your BLS on Annie.’