Tell Me, Darling

by Kate le Roux

  “Anthea – I have to go. Mrs Clayton is about 5cm, and the Williams baby needs to go under the lights – Anthea, he got shot. I have to go.”

  “It’s okay, love, you go. I’ve got it under control here. You go.”

  Sadie got up, clutching her phone, and ran, out of the doors from the maternity ward and along the passage. She was about to go straight to emergency but then she changed her mind and bolted down another passage and into one of the doctor’s rooms.

  “Dulcie,” she panted, to the shocked receptionist. “Is he in?”

  “He is,’ said Dulcie, standing up. “He’s about to see a patient ...”

  Sadie opened the door and flew in to the consulting room. “Scott,” she said. “I’m sorry, but my friend – he’s been shot, in the leg. The ambulance will be here any minute. Will you come and see him when you can? Please?”

  Dr Atkinson stood up, a file in his hand. “‘Of course, Sadie. I’ll give it ten minutes and come right over. Of course.”

  “Thank you, Scott,” she said, as she bolted out, apologising to the bewildered-looking mother and child who were in the waiting room. She ran down the passage again, towards the emergency room, where a bored-looking woman sat behind the desk.

  “Charlene – there’s an ambulance coming in a few minutes,” said Sadie. “It’s my friend. He’s been shot.”

  “Goodness,” said Charlene. She didn’t stop filing her nails. “A friend of yours got shot?”

  “Give me some forms, Charlene. I know you have to have them, and I can start filling them in.”

  “I hope he has medical aid,” said Charlene, getting out a pile of forms and still managing to look bored. “Or we can’t take him, you know that. Or you gonna be the guarantee?”

  “Yes he does – is there a pen?” Sadie stood at the counter and started writing in Joe’s details, as fast as she could. She knew most of them. She just had to hope that Joe’s wallet hadn’t been stolen or left behind. She needed the proof of his medical aid details, or any urgent care he needed could be delayed.

  “Sjoe,” said Charlene, peering over at Sadie’s flying pen. “Must be a good friend!”

  Charlene got up and went to get the doctor on duty. Sadie heard an engine and brakes and turned from the counter to see the ambulance arriving. No siren, she thought. That was a good sign. She rushed to the doors of the ambulance and stood, her hand over her chest, as they opened. A slight young man, covered in blood, jumped out. Gamiet, she thought. And all that blood – she had seen worse, much worse, but this was Joe’s blood, Joe’s life that had been pouring out of a gunshot wound for who knows how long.

  She tried not to think about that as the paramedics got out and started pulling out the stretcher. Was this really Joe – lying on the stretcher, covered in blood, his face white, his eyes closed, his face obscured by the oxygen mask? She put her hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to throw up. She stood back as they wheeled him in through the doors and took a deep breath. The emergency doctor wasn’t someone she recognised, but he looked concerned enough so far. She knew the best thing she could do for Joe right now was to sort out the paperwork so that if he needed surgery, it wouldn’t be delayed.

  She turned to find Gamiet, who was standing on the pavement, looking a little bewildered. “Come Gamiet,” she said, taking his arm, trying to sound calm but her voice shaking a little. “I’m Sadie. Let’s get you inside. Do you know where Joe’s wallet is?”

  Gamiet had been wise and had taken Joe’s wallet out of his pocket as soon as he could. Sadie was so grateful that she hugged him, blood and all, and took him inside. She opened the wallet and found the medical aid card and the passport number, and after a few long minutes had filled in the forms to Charlene’s satisfaction.

  “He’ll need to sign these,” said Charlene, as if it was some annoying thing that Joe had forgotten to do.

  Sadie said nothing. Soon Joe’s phone rang – it was his office wondering what was happening. When Gamiet had finished to talking to them, and had been assured that someone would pick him up shortly, Sadie asked an orderly to get him a coke from the cafeteria. Now she could go and check on Joe. “Thank you, Gamiet,” she said, as he handed her Joe’s phone. “Thank you for helping him.”

  “Sure, lady,” he said, as the orderly brought him the coke and he took it, gratefully. “First thing he said when he came around a bit after he fell – he gave me his phone and said I must call Sadie. So that’s what I did.”

  “You did great, Gamiet,” she said. “I’ll let you know how he’s doing.”

  Sadie turned and went through to the casualty ward. They had drawn a curtain around Joe, and she peeped in cautiously. Scott came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Is this your friend, Sadie?’ he asked. “How is he?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said. Scott moved the curtain aside and started talking to the doctor. Sadie saw Joe’s head move. If he was awake she was going to go to him. She pushed past the casualty nurse – again someone she didn’t know.

  “Nurse,” said the doctor. “If you’re not family …”

  She ignored him. “Joe?” she said. His eyes were still closed. “Does he need this?” she said to no one in particular, pulling off the oxygen mask. Joe opened his eyes a little. “Joe? It’s me, Sadie.”

  He opened his eyes a little more. “Oh good,” he said, softly.

  “He’s conscious,” said the doctor. “Ask him what his blood type is.”

  “What’s your blood type, Joe?” asked Sadie. “You lost a lot of blood.”

  “B positive,” she heard him say, very faintly.

  “Brilliant,” said the doctor, sending someone off to fetch blood.

  She found his hand and squeezed it. His eyes were closed again, but he squeezed it back.

  “I’m just going to look at this wound, Joe,” said Scott.

  Sadie stayed at his head, holding his hand while Scott cut away his jeans and examined him. She put out her other hand and wiped a smudge of dirt from his face. There was a little graze there, probably from where he fell. He was so white; she knew he needed blood badly. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’re in good hands now.”

  He nodded, and opened his eyes a little again, flinching as Scott moved him as he tried to see the damage. She bent down and kissed his forehead. “You’ll be okay,” she said, finally letting herself believe it. She tried not to think of all the possible complications from a gunshot wound to the leg. Bone fractures, nerve and arterial damage, paralysis, chronic pain, necrosis, infection … Oh Lord, she prayed. Help him, please.

  “Looks as if there’s an exit wound,” said Scott. “And I’m not seeing any bone splinters, although if it missed the femur it wasn’t by much. Which is all good news. But let’s get him to X-ray, Sadie. We’ll know more then.” He patted her shoulder, surprised to see tears in her usually steady eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him for you,” he said.

  It was the next evening, and Sadie was sitting next to Joe’s bed. The x-ray had thankfully shown no fractures, but Scott had taken him to theatre to do some muscle and blood vessels repair. So far, he seemed to have feeling and movement in his lower leg, which was an excellent sign. He did have a concussion but it was mild, and he was sitting up, looking better already. Linda had kicked into gear and organised for Derek to go to Joe’s flat and pack a bag for him, so at least he had his own clothes and things, and his glasses. But he was still very pale, very tired, and struggling with the pain.

  She sat on a chair, still in her uniform after a day shift. She would have liked to move her chair closer and hold his hand, but she hadn’t done that since he had been properly awake. She was so glad to see him sitting up, a little colour in his face again, but she could see that he was suffering.

  She looked at the chart.

  “Another hour until I can have some more meds,” he said. “I’m counting the minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, Joe,” she said. “How can
I help you?” It hurt her to see him in pain.

  “You’ve helped me so much already, Sadie,” he said, softly. “We were supposed to be going out tonight.”

  Sadie sat back and shook her head. “It was not to be,” she said. “We can take a rain check, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry, Sadie.”

  “For what?” she said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m just so glad you’re okay. It was so scary seeing you like that.”

  “I don’t remember much,” he said. “Did I embarrass myself?”

  “No. Do you remember the casualty ward? Telling me your blood type?”

  “Not really. No.”

  Then he wouldn’t remember that she had held his hand and kissed his forehead. She didn’t know if she was glad about that or not.

  “Did you get hold of your parents?” she asked.

  “I talked to Mum,” he said. “She did not take it well. She says she’s coming out.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes. I told her I’m going to be fine, but she was verging on hysterical. I spoke to Robert and he was calmer. I’m just hoping she comes to her senses and stays where she is. What would I do with my mother if she arrived here?” He leant his head back on the bed. “I don’t know if I have the strength for that.”

  “You just need to rest, Joe. Everyone’s been asking me how you are and if they can visit. I had to make a WhatsApp group. Look,” She showed him her phone.

  He smiled when he saw the name. “Joe’s Left Leg. Funny.”

  “I’ll only add you when you’re feeling better. It will take strength to read all 562 messages there are so far. Can I get you anything? Do you want me to go?”

  “No,” he said. “You must be so tired, Sadie. But will you stay until I get the pain meds?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He took off his glasses and closed his eyes. His frown was back. He shifted, and she could see him grit his teeth as the movement hurt him.

  “Sometimes,” she said, deciding to be brave, “it helps if you can focus on something else. Like – if I hold your hand. You can try to focus on that.”

  He opened his eyes and held out his hand. He didn’t say anything. She moved her chair closer and put her hand in his. He squeezed it, and closed his eyes again. For a while, so did she. Life is so crazy sometimes, she thought. There can be exhaustion, and pain, and uncertainty, and perfect contentment all in the same moment. A little like the mothers in the maternity ward upstairs – and it was because of life, and love. Gratitude for life – a new life, or a saved one – could eclipse pain and hardship, if just for a moment. As she sat beside his bed, the pressure of his hand in hers, she prayed and prayed. She prayed that Joe would heal and that he would sleep. She prayed that he would find his way in the world, a way to use his gifts to make a difference the way he wanted to so badly. She thanked God for his faith, for that English teacher all those years ago, for John Donne, for everything that had led him to where he was. She prayed for the gang wars and for the poor desperate young guys who had been shooting at each other in a clinic parking lot. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t pray for Joe to love her. Your will be done, Father, she said to herself, perfectly confident that it would be. Joe was alive, and she was so grateful. More than that she didn’t want to ask tonight.

  Chapter 42

  Sadie didn’t have a shift the next day. She went to the hospital to see Joe in the morning, where had been moved to a ward with three other patients, but there were people in and out all the time she was there. The police needed a statement, and the minister from their church came by to visit and pray with him. Scott popped in to check on him and was very happy with the healing so far.

  “He’s very fit and healthy,” he said to Sadie, outside the door. “I’m quite confident he will recover completely. He was lucky.”

  “Thank you, Scott,” she said. “I so appreciate what you’ve done for him.”

  “I did it for you too,” he said. “And now I know why you kept turning down my invitations.”

  Sadie shook her head, but she felt embarrassed. “We’re just friends,” she said, knowing that it must be obvious to Scott that there was more to it than that.

  Scott raised his eyebrows. “Not for long, if he has half a brain. Which he does, I’m sure. See you around, Sadie.” He walked off down the passage.

  When she went back in, Joe was alone at last. “That was a busy morning,” she said.

  “Too busy,” he said. “I am so tired now. I feel as if I just ran a marathon.”

  “Then sleep,” she said. “I’ll tell the nurses not to disturb you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes before she had even closed the curtain around him.

  She went home and straight to bed again even though it was the middle of the day, falling asleep quickly and deeply. She was too tired even to lie awake for a while and think about everything that was happening. It felt as if all the fear she had felt when Joe was hurt had turned into exhaustion that had settled in her muscles and her mind. Working her shift yesterday had felt like wading through mud. It was after six when she woke up. She wondered if she should message him before she went over to the hospital but decided not to.

  As she approached the ward she heard voices. Visitors – she hoped Joe was feeling better and up to company.

  Two of the other patients in the ward had visitors, and so did Joe. There was someone sitting next to Joe’s bed, on the chair Sadie had sat on the previous night. Joe was sitting up, looking not much better and still very tired. Sadie knew the look of someone exhausted by pain and trauma and lots of heavy medication, and it was on Joe’s face, clear as day to her. What was also very clear was exactly who the woman by his bed was – she had the same blue eyes, and the same thick blonde hair. She had to be his mother.

  “Sadie,” Joe said, as she walked in, sitting up a little straighter. The woman stood up.

  “You must be Joe’s mum,” said Sadie, recovering quickly from her surprise and holding out her hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”

  “Sadie,” said Joe’s mum, as if she were testing the name on her tongue. “We’ve only been here for a few hours and we’ve heard quite a bit about you already. Please, call me Eleanor.” She shook Sadie’s hand, and smiled. Her smart jacket was a little crumpled and her face was tired, but her hair was neatly done and her make-up perfect. “This is Robert,” she said, gesturing to the man on the other side of the bed.

  “Nice to meet you, Sadie,” said Robert, stepping forward to shake her hand. He also looked smart, a tall man with neat grey hair, a checked shirt and a scarf. They both look so British, she thought, feeling suddenly scruffy and underdressed in her jeans and cardigan, her hair roughly done up behind her head and her face probably still puffy from sleep.

  “Have you just flown in?” she asked. “You must be exhausted.” She noticed two smart suitcases on wheels in the corner.

  Eleanor smoothed down her jacket self-consciously. “It has been rather a long day,” she said. “We were hoping to stay in Joe’s flat and use his car, but he doesn’t seem to know where his car is or how we can even get into the flat.”

  Sadie took a step closer to the bed so she could speak to Joe. “Barry from your office arranged to fetch your car from Hanover Park,” she said. “It has a bullet hole in the side.”

  Eleanor made a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp and shook her head. Joe smiled weakly. “Rather in the car than in me,” he said.

  “Right now it’s parked in my parents’ driveway, and I have the keys at home. Your house keys too.”

  “Thank you, Sadie,” said Joe, looking at her gratefully. He shifted uncomfortably.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “Something just feels funny,” he said. “I can’t really see …”

  “I’ll check,” she said. She had to step around Robert to get to Joe’s other side. He stood back awkwardly, unintentionally kicking a chair as he
did. Joe pulled the blankets down over his bandages. Sadie could see at once that the drain in his surgery site was leaking and needed attention.

  “I’d better call Rose,” she said. He looked so tired and uncomfortable. She squeezed his arm, and gave him a sympathetic smile, then turned around to face Eleanor. “I need to call the nurse. She’ll just need to fix the drain – it won’t take long. Why don’t we go outside for a while and make a plan about the car and the flat?”

  “All right,” said Eleanor. She picked up her handbag and went up to Joe, leaning over to give him a pat on the chest. “We’ll back in a few minutes, darling.” She and Robert left the room, and Sadie followed, pointing them to a waiting area with a few chairs.

  “I’ll just get the sister and then I’ll be right with you,” she said.

  Sadie went to the nursing station, found Rose and explained the problem. She popped back into the ward before going to Eleanor and Robert.

  “Are you okay?” she said to Joe, holding onto the foot of the bed. “You don’t look good at all.”

  “I didn’t know they were coming,” said Joe. “She tried to call from the airport when they landed but I’ve been mostly sleeping this afternoon. They just appeared, Sadie. I’m glad to see her but I feel so tired and awful. She wants to talk about what happened and what I’m going to do now and I just can’t.” He was shaky and pale and looked as if he might be about to cry.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, walking around to the side of the bed and putting her hand on his arm, hating to see him struggling. “Your body had a massive shock, Joe, and those antibiotics you’re on are really strong. You need to sleep and not have to worry about anything. I’ll sort them out, and they can come again tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t talk more now. She just keeps asking questions.”

  “I’ll try and get her to understand,” she said as Rose came in to deal with the drain.

  Eleanor and Robert sat awkwardly on the chairs in the waiting area. Robert stood up as Sadie approached.