Esther thanked her then read through the notes, pleased to see she’d followed the same procedure as Bill had regarding the catheter. Reading through his notes, she also saw when he’d started an infusion of platelets in the other patients, using falling blood pressure as a guide to the extent of the haemorrhaging.
The second sister, Janet Billings according to her ID, had come round from behind the desk and was waiting beside her, glancing over Esther’s shoulder at the files, pointing out where changes in treatment had taken place, and explaining why.
It took some time, and though Esther’s mind was focussed on the words she was reading, on the patients she was seeing, and her brain was translating information from the graphs of the monitor readouts showing how the patients’ conditions had dipped and risen, she eventually became aware of a gnawing hunger.
They were back at the central desk now and, glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see it was after midnight.
‘We’ve had three people die,’ Janet explained, ‘but only one of them died in here. One died in A and E before admission procedures were completed, and one on the ward before anyone realised just what was happening. That was when Bill stepped in to take over the patient care himself.’
‘So, since he’s been on the job you’ve only lost the one,’ Esther said, knowing she’d have to read the files of the patients who’d died to understand the progression of the disease and extrapolate information from the patient profiles.
‘Where would those files be now? The ones of the patients who died? Would they still be travelling through the system or would they have reached the dungeon?’
She used the word most hospitals in which she’d worked used to refer to their file storage facilities.
‘Mr Risk’s BP’s dropping.’ Jill’s quiet voice alerted them to the emergency. ‘We’ve instructions to contact Dr Jackson immediately if a change like this occurs in any patient.’
‘Which is why he hasn’t had any sleep since the outbreak began,’ Esther said. ‘Who’s the senior doctor on duty in the hospital tonight? Get him up here. He can authorise whatever I want to do. Remind him of the gown and glove procedures.’
Pleased she’d read through all the files and seen Bill’s clear description of the procedures he’d followed when this had happened in other patients, Esther prepared to follow his lead.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE went through to Mr Risk’s room and, though he was semi-comatose and probably didn’t understand a word she was saying, she explained what she was going to do. She was checking the squashy plastic bag of platelets Janet had produced when she heard the soft sigh of the door opening behind her, and didn’t need to turn around to know it was Bill.
A breathless and dishevelled Bill, but Bill nonetheless.
‘You do not override my instructions to my hospital staff!’ he muttered into her ear when he was close enough for the words to be heard by only her. ‘Never! Do you understand me?’
As this was hardly the place to have an argument, especially with a young resident standing, now nervously, beside them, Esther handed Bill the bag.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘it’s all yours.’
She walked out of the room, straight to the desk, where a slightly shamefaced Jill refused to meet her eyes.
‘We’ve been told to contact him,’ she said, defending herself.
‘That’s OK,’ Esther snapped, pleased to have someone on whom to take out her frustration. ‘I just hope you’re prepared to explain how he died when his daughter wants to know in maybe ten years’ time. Will you tell her he dropped dead from exhaustion because you were obeying his orders?’
She walked away, stripping off the annoying mask and pulling off the goggles, which she’d pushed to the top of her head on exiting the room. She’d go up to the sixth floor and have another look at the map, maybe read through some of the copies of the files that were on the desk. Had there been a couch in that room? If there was she could have a sleep on that, and in the morning she’d retrieve her suitcase from Bill’s place and find somewhere else to stay.
Three deaths were far too many for the number of patients who’d presented at the hospital. Were most people not coming in? Would she have to take a medical team out to the main site to check all the people living there? Somehow she had to put Bill’s reappearance in her life right out of her mind and concentrate on stopping the spread of this deadly strain of dengue.
Bill could go to hell!
Which he probably would, sooner rather than later, if the stupid man didn’t start looking after himself better…
She was matching file numbers to the pins on the board when he came in.
‘I know you meant well,’ he began, his voice gruff with apology, ‘but—’
‘But nothing,’ Esther interrupted. ‘You asked Brisbane for help and, whether you like it or not, I’m that help. I followed the procedures you set up for every case, bringing Mr Risk down to ICU when his haemorrhaging became obvious, treating him in exactly the same way you’ve treated all the other patients. You can’t be here twenty-four hours a day, and if you’re not going to accept me as a stand-in for when you need time off, then you’d better delegate responsibility to someone you do trust.’
Esther was so furious the words tumbled over each other but she knew he’d got the gist of them from the frown.
Though the source of his expression, revealed when he spoke again, surprised her.
‘Did we always fight this much? I don’t remember many arguments between us but today we seem to have been yelling at each other ever since you arrived.’
‘I do not yell,’ Esther told him, ‘and what may or may not have happened in the past doesn’t matter one jot right now. It’s a measure of how tired you must be that your mind’s straying like that, and not totally focussed on the job. How’s Mr Risk? Do you agree I did the right thing moving him? In other cases did the platelets react quickly enough to improve his BP, or does it take time? Do you have to use other resuscitative measures in the meantime?’
Bill looked at her and shook his head, then, after an interval long enough for him to have considered and rejected various replies, he said, ‘You did all the right things, but you look as exhausted as I feel. It’s been a long day for you as well. Why don’t you go back to the apartment—you’ve got the car keys—and I’ll kip down for the night in the on-duty room off the ICU?’
‘Which is probably where you’ve been sleeping since this began,’ Esther said. ‘What you need is a decent night’s sleep—well, a decent few hours’ sleep. Go home, I’ll stay here.’
She fished in her pocket for his keys.
‘Go on. You admitted I’ve done OK. It’s already after two, so not much can happen in a few hours, and you’ll feel better sleeping in your own bed.’
Again Bill regarded her in silence, but he ignored the keys she held in her hand.
‘I’ve got Ma’s car and her keys—you keep those. You’ll need the car to get back to the apartment in the morning. Go back down to the ICU and use the bed in the on-duty room. It’s more comfortable than the bed up here—believe me, I know. I’ll tell Jill or Janet to call you if they need you.’
Another pause, during which an inner Esther felt surprise and a little pleasure in his capitulation, then he added, ‘Do you really believe what happened in the past doesn’t matter?’
Esther frowned at him. That wasn’t what she’d said, but she really, really didn’t want to get into another argument with him.
‘Go,’ she said. ‘Get home. Have some sleep. And as I know you won’t leave without checking Mr Risk again, you can tell the sisters I’ll be down in a few minutes.’
Her stomach grumbled loudly, surprising her because she’d forgotten she’d been feeling hungry.
‘There’s a small refrigerator in the ICU on-duty room, and it’s always stocked with sandwiches. You’ll be all right?’
He asked the final question softly, weakening Esther’s resolve to not let anything
he said or did affect her. But she stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders—literally as well as figuratively.
‘Of course I will. Now, get going.’
He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again.
Yes, yes! the traitorous desire inside her yelped, but before she could even turn away to avoid the possibility, he’d said, ‘Goodnight, then, or should it be good morning?’ and departed.
She dragged in a deep, replenishing breath, then, refusing to think about Bill a moment longer, she gathered up the files and left the room. She’d get someone to bring the map down later, and set it all up in the on-duty room. Bill had told her it had a bed, and presumably there was a desk, or a doctor’s office with a desk. Maybe she could make it her temporary abode—like a two-room apartment—while she was in Jamestown.
All was quiet in the ICU. Mr Risk seemed more comfortable. The two sisters were back behind the desk, watching the monitors, and the young nurse was in with Mr Armstrong, who was awake and obviously appreciating the cooling effects of the cloth she was using on his face and arms.
Esther studied the printouts from his monitor, seeing his decline in the picture the graphs presented. She asked Jill to open his file on the computer and scrolled through the treatment he’d been given.
‘There has to be something more we can do,’ Esther fretted. ‘I know Bill will have checked latest treatments on the Internet, but can I use your computer to do another search?’
‘I’ll get you hooked up,’ Jill said. ‘You don’t need an access code for searches.’
She seemed friendlier, as if making up for phoning Bill earlier, but for Esther that was over and done with. Her worry now was Mr Armstrong. She’d sent Bill home, assuring him she could cope, but if she lost a patient while he wasn’t here, would he ever trust her again?
It won’t happen, she told herself as she identified herself to the medical search engine she hoped might find her some new information.
As always with a search, she ended up with too much information and had to sort through it, seeking something that might have worked somewhere else. A large number of the dengue articles and papers were in French, probably because of French connections with Equatorial Africa, where dengue was still rife. But maybe she was doing this wrongly. Maybe she should be looking at treatment for haemorrhagic fevers, rather than treatment for dengue, because haemorrhagic fever was what all the patients now in the ICU were suffering from.
Four hours later she’d found nothing definite, but Mr Armstrong was still holding on, and, knowing they’d got through the low time in the early hours of the morning, when patients were most likely to die, Esther felt cheered.
She also felt dirty and tired while her body smelt stale. Having a shower wasn’t the answer. She needed clean clothes as well. And sleep. She’d be no use to anyone if she didn’t have some sleep.
New staff members were on duty in the ICU, and one of the sisters mentioned that Bill had phoned to check on patient status and to say he was on his way. Deciding this was a good time to leave, Esther departed. She’d go back to his place, have a shower, maybe a short sleep, then come back to start her real job of containing the disease before it spread further. She’d have a talk to someone in Admin later and ask them to find another billet for her, but right now the idea of a shower was even better than thoughts of sleep.
‘This is most inconvenient, you having William’s car,’ Gwyneth greeted Esther before she was fully inside the front door of the apartment. The older woman was holding the baby in her arms, and the infant smiled and gurgled happily at Esther, as if delighted to have someone new on whom to practise her charm.
‘I’m sorry,’ Esther mumbled, thrusting Bill’s car keys towards his mother. ‘Here. I don’t need a car. I’ll walk back to the hospital later.’
‘It’s not the car, it’s Chloe’s car seat. It’s in my car, and I have to shop. Chloe’s right out of diapers, and we’re almost out of formula. I can’t take her without the seat, so you’ll have to mind her until I come back. I trust you can care for her safely.’
The last sentence was a challenge, delivered as she thrust the baby into Esther’s arms, took up a handbag from the small table in the foyer and, without waiting for Esther to agree or disagree, swept out the door.
Esther felt the warmth and softness of the small bundle she was holding, and willed herself not to give in to the pain of remembered loss spreading through her body. A half-whimper made her look more closely at the child, and the quivering lip and eyes filling with tears made her forget her own misery.
‘Hey, it’s OK,’ she said gently, holding Chloe close and rocking her in her arms, her cheek resting on the silky baby hair. ‘I’ll look after you. Your granny’s gone to the shops. She’ll be back soon. I’m Esther, an old friend of your Dad’s, so you can be sure I’ll take good care of you.’
Babbling as consolingly as she could manage to the baby, she walked further into the apartment, seeking something to distract the little one.
‘Music. Toys. Both would be good. What CDs has your dad got? Let’s find something soothing, then we’ll sit on the floor and play.’
And probably fall asleep. Maybe I should stay upright. Keep dancing around the room with this warm little human in my arms. Her mind whirled while she found a CD of a Bach concerto she liked and slotted it into the machine. A large wicker basket in a corner of the room held an assortment of toys, so she went there next, wondering desperately if there was a system to infant play—would Chloe like the whole basket emptied out so she could choose which toy she wanted, or should she be given one toy at a time?
Esther didn’t know the answer, having avoided her friends’ children, or her friends with children, for the past few years, her own wounds too raw to handle seeing other babies grow and develop.
She chose one toy, a complicated, brightly coloured plastic contraption with large soft plastic buttons Chloe could press. Not the best of choices for a babysitter who hadn’t had any sleep, Esther realised when she’d put the child and the toy on the carpet and Chloe had demonstrated her proficiency with it, pressing the different buttons to produce a cacophony of discordant sounds.
At least it’s keeping me awake, Esther decided, but the infant’s attention span was short, and Esther had to produce another toy, then another.
‘You there, Ma? I’ve whipped home to swap cars—remembered you had to shop.’
Bill had reached the living room before he realised the apartment had that still quietness which suggested it was empty. He looked around, seeing first the array of toys scattered across the floor, something his mother rarely allowed, then, curled against the sofa, the sleeping form of Esther, her arm around Chloe who was also sleeping, tucked in protectively close to the woman’s body.
Looking at the pair of them, he felt an all-encompassing surge of emotion, and had to swallow hard on the lump that had formed in his throat. He fought the weakness with irritation. There was too damn much ‘what might have been’ in his life already, and he didn’t need or want mental images like this stuck in the files of his memory. He guessed what had happened: his mother wanting to shop, not considering for a moment that Esther hadn’t had any sleep. She’d obviously played with Chloe until the baby had grown tired, and sleep had overtaken both of them.
It was the second time in twelve hours he’d caught Esther asleep and, just for a moment, he indulged himself again, seeing the slight, familiar figure curled so tenderly around his child. He knew he should wake her, tell her to go to bed and sleep properly, as she’d told him the previous night, but he didn’t want to startle her by calling her name. The only gentle way to wake her would be to shake her lightly, but that meant touching her, and that wasn’t an option he was prepared to contemplate unless it became absolutely necessary.
He walked further into the room, bending to pick up toys, rattling things a little as he returned them to the basket, thinking she might wake up. But, no, the pair remained
blissfully unaware of his presence. At least, now he’d tided up, Esther wouldn’t draw his mother’s ire when she returned. Though his mother needed little excuse to argue with Esther. As far as Ma was concerned, Esther was, and always would be, a foreigner. It had been the source of all the trouble between them when he and Esther had married, his mother’s rigid, limited views denigrating anyone not born under the Stars and Stripes.
Or maybe she’d have been equally hard on anyone who wasn’t Marcie…
Bill sighed, then slumped down on the sofa. He had to get back to work, yet he worried Chloe would wake up, and Esther, tired as she was, would have to care for his daughter. He reached forward and brushed his fingers up Esther’s arm, feeling the softness of her skin, then experiencing the magic flare of the connection between them which neither time nor his marriage to another woman had diminished.
People talked about electricity, but this was something less defined than an electric current—more an all-encompassing charge that formed a force-field around them, enclosing them in a world of sensory bliss that was theirs alone.
Or had been theirs until blasted apart by the loss of a baby and Esther’s inability to forgive herself.
Or to let him comfort her as he’d longed to have her comfort him…
‘Hey. Wake up. You need a proper sleep. Have a shower and go right to bed. The hospital crèche is operating for the children of staff who stayed in town. I’ll take Chloe back with me. She loves going there.’
Esther’s eyelashes fluttered, then her eyelids lifted and she looked up at him, dark eyes filled with confusion. Was she trying to piece together the last twenty-four hours? Wondering why he was here? Please let it not be that she was trying to remember who he was…
No, it couldn’t be that, for she smiled at him, then said, ‘Bill,’ in a puzzled but contented kind of way, as if she might not know just why he was there, but him being there was a good thing—something special.
Don’t kid yourself, his head muttered at him. She’ll remember everything in another second and you’ll be just as unwelcome as you were last night, when she pushed you away from that kiss.
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