One Night to Wed

by Alison Roberts

  Blood welled instantly and the torchlight wavered as Wayne groaned.

  'Keep it steady, Wayne. You're doing a brilliant job there.' Fliss had artery forceps in her hand. She pushed them into the gaping wound as Angus removed a newly soaked swab. He heard the clicking as the clamp tightened. He swabbed again reached for a fresh swab immediately to repeat the procedure, but it wasn't needed.

  'We've got it,' Fliss said almost gleefully. 'Now, where's that suture?'

  With the artery firmly tied off, it would possible to dress the wound and bandage it, but they didn't get that far. As Fliss flushed the area with saline, she was suddenly knocked off balance.

  Jack, who had been just behind her as he reassured Callum, had simply stopped in mid-sentence and toppled sideways.

  'What the—?' Fliss dropped the saline pouch and pushed herself upright to her knees. 'Jack? Jack?'

  'Hell,' Wayne said in horror. 'What's happened to him?'

  'He might have fainted at the sight of all that blood.' Angus was rolling the old man onto his back. He tilted Jack's head back to open his airway, laid his hand on the elderly man's abdomen and put his own cheek close to Jack's mouth, silently pleading that this was just a vagal episode.

  The plea was in vain.

  'He's not breathing,' Angus informed Fliss tersely.

  Fliss seemed frozen for a moment, as though this latest crisis was the last straw. Her ability to cope had reached its limit.

  'Grab a bag mask,' Angus suggested calmly. He had his fingers on the side of Jack's neck now. There was no pulse to be felt. 'I'll get the life pack off Callum.'

  Jack still had electrodes in place from his earlier monitoring so it took only seconds to get a reading of the cardiac activity.

  'Coarse VF,' Angus told Fliss.

  'We might still be in time, then.' She was moving again now. Fast. She held the bag mask over Jack's face and inflated his lungs rapidly. Once. Twice.

  Angus cut Jack's shirt clear. He slapped on the gel pads and picked up the paddles, reaching to hit the charge button on the life pack.

  'Charging to 200 joules,' he announced. 'Stand clear.'

  'I'm clear,' Fliss responded. She was pulling at the contents of Angus's kit, finding the intubation gear in its separate roll. As Angus delivered the first shock, she pulled the oxygen tubing from Callum's mask and attached it to the bag mask unit. By the time Angus had delivered the third shock at a higher rate of joules, she was ready to intubate.

  'Give me some cricoid pressure, please, Gus.'

  Angus pressed down on Jack's Adam's apple. He glanced at the life pack screen where he could see that the fatal arrhythmia was reducing in amplitude. This was not looking good but that was hardly unexpected. Jack was old. He had a heart that had already been struggling for goodness knew how long. A new infarction or possibly an extension of whatever had caused the earlier episode of acute heart failure was highly likely to be irreversible.

  But Fliss was clearly determined that it wouldn't be.

  'Thank God he's got IV access already.' She had listened to Jack's chest with the stethoscope as she'd inflated the bag mask to check that the endotracheal tube was correctly positioned to protect his airway. Now she was reaching inside the kit again. 'Where's your adrenaline? And syringes?'

  'Top pocket.' Angus moved around Fliss to start chest compressions from over Jack's head so he could manage the ventilations at the same time. Then he changed his mind.

  'Why don't you do the CPR?' he suggested. 'It'll be faster for me to find the drugs.'

  'Angus?' Seth was standing beside Wayne who was holding the torch in a noticeably shaking hand.

  Angus gave him only a brief glance. He and Fliss were busy here. 'Yeah?'

  'Operation Springclean is under way. We're needed.'

  In the split second of astonished silence that followed Seth's tense comment, Angus could hear the muffled sound of what was probably a stun grenade going off. He looked at Fliss, the long tendrils of now damp blonde hair swinging beside a face set into the grimmest lines he'd ever seen as she pushed down on Jack's chest.

  'Fourteen....Fifteen....' She sat back on her heels, picked up the bag mask and squeezed two breaths into Jack's lungs. Then she dropped the bag mask, got back up to her knees, leaning over his head as she positioned her hands on his sternum and began compressions again. 'One....Two...'

  Angus ignored Seth. He injected another dose of adrenaline. He picked up the paddles again.

  'Charging to 360 joules,' he said evenly. 'Stand clear, Fliss.'

  Fliss wriggled backwards, holding her hands up in front of her in a gesture of surrender. 'I'm clear.'

  The protocol of three more shocks was so automatic Angus could think about other things as he administered them.

  Like knowing that Seth was now furious. That he had to go but couldn't leave his partner. That he thought this was a funny-looking, old, sick man and they were wasting their time, trying to save him.

  They probably were but Fliss had a tear running down beside her nose as she sat back and watched the shocks and it ripped a hole in his own heart.

  This was where he really needed to be. With Fliss. Not out there in the dark, scrambling around in an armed-offender operation with a cute name, waiting for someone—possibly himself—to be shot at.

  Why had he ever thought he needed that kind of a thrill as part of his job?

  No wonder it had frightened Fliss that he wanted to go and do something like this.

  And why had it frightened her?

  Because she was afraid of losing him.

  And why had she been so frightened of losing him?

  The only reason could be that she loved him. That much.

  'Charging again. Second shock at 360. Stand clear.'

  It should be suffocating that someone loved you that much. It had been. Angus had rebelled. Hadn't even given head space to the possibility that the antipathy Fliss had displayed had been reasonable.

  It didn't seem suffocating now, though.

  It felt protective. Nurturing.

  Perfectly understandable. The way he'd feel about Fliss if she wanted to go and do something dangerous.

  'Third shock at 360. Stand clear.'

  No. Angus didn't need the thrill of getting out there and getting shot at. The kind of adrenaline rush he'd got from working with Fliss in the surgery tonight was more than enough, and he could get that kind of thrill from an ordinary job as a paramedic out on the road in a large enough city.

  He could compromise his career.

  Fliss might consider moving back to the city. She missed working in an emergency department—she had admitted that.

  And look at what he would gain instead of the thrill of dramatic incidents. Wouldn't being with Fliss for the rest of his life more than make up for any excitement he lost in his career?

  Yes. It would.

  The screen had cleared from the disruption of the last shock of this series.

  The flat line of asystole they could see said it all.

  There was no point in continuing the resuscitation effort.

  Jack was dead.

  Fliss sat like a stone for several seconds. Then, very slowly, she got to her feet. She turned and walked away. Through the connecting door that led to her house. She closed the door behind her quite calmly.

  'Angus!' The command from Seth was laced with urgency.

  Angus jumped to his feet.

  'You go,' he told his partner. 'I can't. Not just yet.'

  And he, too, turned and walked through the door into the house.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The bitter gall of failure threatened to choke her.

  Fliss shoved the connecting door shut behind her and then hung over the laundry tub, dry-retching.

  In the space of a few short hours her life seemed to have spun in on itself. She was being sucked back to a place she couldn't bear to go. Tension and now grief combined to hammer her to a point so low she couldn't get up.

  Sh
e was past her breaking point.

  She couldn't help anybody else.

  Fliss couldn't even help herself.

  She didn't hear the door open. She could feel the iron hard muscles in the hands and then the arms that pulled her up and held her. She was aware of the voice and the deep rumble of support.

  Of love.

  The words were incomprehensible but that made no difference. No amount of support—or even love—could take away the dark weight suffocating Fliss. Words were coming from her own mouth as well, equally indistinguishable because they were carried on a tide of racking sobs. Sounds torn from her soul.

  Grief for Jack.

  Grief for her mother.

  Admission of the failure that had shaped her whole life.

  Time ceased to exist. It could have been minutes or hours but was probably only seconds until the words began to make sense.

  Words from Angus.

  Words from herself.

  Words she had never thought she would ever hear herself utter.

  'You're not a failure, Fliss.'

  'I am.'

  'No. You did your best.'

  'It wasn't good enough.'

  'Jack was an old man. He was sick. Nobody could have done anything more. Nobody could have saved him.'

  'I tried.'

  'I know you did, love.'

  'I tried so hard, Gus... .and I couldn't do it.'

  'I know. I'm so sorry.'

  'I tried for years.'

  'No...you've only been here a little while, Fliss. You can't take responsibility for what went before.'

  'Years and years and years. I tried everything but I couldn't know, could I? I was only ten.'

  The arms held her tighter.

  'Ten? You mean when your dad died?'

  'I couldn't see it starting. Maybe if I'd done something differently.. .if I'd been older and could see what was happening.'

  'I don't understand, Fliss.'

  'No. Nobody could ever understand.'

  'I could. Tell me.'

  'You'd hate me.'

  'I could never hate you.'

  'I hate myself.'

  'Why?'

  'Because... .Because I failed.''

  'How did you fail, Fliss?'

  'My.. .mother...' A cry that felt like it was taking part of her lungs with it was cushioned by the chest Fliss had her face buried against. 'She killed herself, Gus.'

  There was a moment's shocked silence.

  'It was my fault,' Fliss sobbed.

  'No!' Angus spoke so vehemently the negation was almost believable. 'I don't believe that.'

  'It's true. I failed. I could have found a way to help and didn't. I didn't know how.'

  'Of course you didn't. You were a child.' A hand moved to cradle the back of her head. To stroke her hair. 'What happened, lass? Why did your mother take her own life?'

  'Because Dad wasn't there any more.' Fliss hiccupped and pulled out another shard that had pierced her heart so long ago. 'Because she loved him more than anyone in the world. Because it wasn't enough having me to live for.'

  'Oh, sweetheart...' His lips were on her hair as well now. And then Angus bent his head further to press his cheek to the top of her head. 'I don't believe that. Not for a second.'

  'It's true. Of course it's true. She left me, didn't she? She left me for ever.' The sobs hurt so much. They were pulling out a long-buried pain and it hadn't lost any of its intensity for having been kept out of sight for so long. 'Why would she do that, Gus?'

  'It wasn't your fault, my love.'

  'She was one of those people who liked everything to be perfect, you know?' Fliss gulped in air as the words started tumbling out. 'The house was always so tidy and she'd put fresh flowers everywhere. Flowers that she grew in her own garden. She cooked wonderful meals and...and there was always a water jug with ice in it on the table. She even used to freeze mint leaves inside the iceblocks.'

  'Mmm.' The sound was simply encouragement.

  'But it was never over the top, you know? It made her happy. She used to sing all the time. She wanted everything to be perfect for Dad because she loved him so much. More than she loved me.'

  'No.' Angus was rocking her gently. 'Not true, Fliss.'

  'When Dad was killed, the sun went out for her. She never picked flowers any more. She never even pulled out any weeds in the garden. I tried...but I couldn't tell the difference between the flowers and the weeds. And I tried to keep the house tidy. I tried to learn to cook but the only thing I knew how to do was scrambled eggs.'

  'She was depressed,' Angus said. 'She needed more help than a child could give her.'

  'She tried pills. All sorts of pills. They tried putting her in a hospital but it was never enough. And one day, just before I turned fourteen, I came home from school and found her....' Fliss took a deep, shaky breath. 'She'd taken all the pills she had in the house, Gus and she hadn't.. .hadn't even written me a letter to say.. .to say goodbye.'

  Fliss was still being held, still gently rocked. Words of comfort and reassurance flowed over her and finally, as the pain and her distraught weeping ebbed away, the words started to have a real effect. To impart a new strength. Something so new and so wonderful Fliss was scared to try and name it.

  The rap on the door was jarring.

  'Angus? Now, mate. I can't wait any longer. I'm going.'

  'I can't go,' Angus said.

  Fliss shook her head. 'You can't stay, Gus. Not on my account. You're here to do a job. Your job.'

  'I'm needed here, too. Seth can join the others without me. You can't manage by yourself in there. Not after.. .Jack.'

  The new strength was still there. Growing even, thanks to the concern in Angus's voice and the way he was holding her arms and trying to see her face in the edge of the light from Seth's torch.

  'I can manage,' she said bravely. 'I've got my job to do, too. And I've got Wayne to help me.' She took a deep breath and it wasn't shaky this time. 'I won't fall apart again.'

  She knew she was speaking the truth. There was actually a curious calm to be found now in the aftermath of that emotional storm. More than the tension of this night had been released for her in the last few minutes. More than the aftermath of breaking up with Angus. Ancient ghosts had been recalled and, for the moment anyway, seemed to have been laid to rest.

  Of course it hadn't been her fault that her mother had chosen not to live. Sadly, not everyone could be saved. She had seen that too often in her career, with the most recent demonstration still painfully raw.

  She wasn't unlovable.

  Angus loved her.

  He knew the worst of her now and he was still there. Still caring. Caring enough to risk his career because she needed him.

  Fliss straightened her back and managed to twist her mouth into something surprisingly close to a smile. 'Hardly the best time or place to dump on you, was it? Sorry.'

  'Don't be. We're going to talk about this again, Fliss. Very soon.'

  Seth made a sound like a growl and then turned on the heel of his boot and strode away.

  'OK, OK, I'm coming.' Angus let go of Fliss and stepped back, his reluctance evident in his hunched shoulders and rigid back. He got through the door of the laundry and a second later his huge body filled the gap again. A swift step towards Fliss and his hands gripped her arms. He bent his head and planted one swift, firm kiss on her lips.

  'I love you, Fliss,' Angus said urgently. 'Always have, always will.'

  And then he was gone again.

  And this time Fliss knew he wouldn't be coming back.

  Fliss had to move, too. She couldn't afford to stand here in the dark and think about what had been the most intimate conversation she'd ever had with Angus.

  Or think about the way he'd held her. The feeling it had given her of being whole. Of finding a strength she'd never known existed.

  Most of all, Fliss couldn't afford to give head or heart space to the terrible fear that had come as Angus had disappeared through
the door that second time.

  The fear that she would never see him again.

  She hadn't even had time to echo his words. He couldn't hear her now but she whispered them aloud anyway.

  'I love you, too, Gus. Always have. Always will.'

  He'd had no idea.

  That Fliss had adored her father had always been obvious. She'd kept a photograph in pride of place beside her bed. A picture Angus had seen many, many times. It was an informal snap of a young, laughing girl standing behind a large, male version of herself. Her arms were draped over his shoulders and the photographer had caught a moment when they'd both turned to catch each other's gaze and share a probably private joke. The bond and depth of love between father and daughter had been as sharply defined as the corners of the frame holding that image.

  Angus had always assumed that the antipathy Fliss had towards him doing a job that carried a risk greater than most careers was due to the fact that her beloved father's presence had been torn from her life in such an untimely fashion. That she'd never got over his death and that was why he was never far from her thoughts and dropped into conversations so often.

  'This way.' Seth's instruction was curt. He had waited for Angus because protocol meant they had to work in pairs but he had been infuriated by the delay. 'They've cleared all dwellings on Jasmine Lane. We've got a new rendezvous point on the corner of Seaview and Camp roads. We need to cover ground a bit faster.'

  Angus obediently jogged close behind Seth but he felt cut off from what was happening around him on more than one level. His radio was dead so he was missing communication between squad members but he could imagine what was happening thanks to the hours of training with the men from the police department's special operations section.

  The cordon was closing. Each house was being checked. Occupied houses were being approached very cautiously so that squad members could identify themselves and reassure people that the situation was under control and that somebody would come and tell them as soon as it was safe to leave their homes.

  Apparently unoccupied houses would be approached with even more caution. The potential for attack by an armed offender was high. Empty houses had to be made as safe as possible for searching, which was where the stun or teargas grenades could be deployed, but using such resources on terrified and innocent citizens that might be hiding inside their own houses was unacceptable. The operation would be slow moving and tense.