by Ann Jennings
“Worried?” asked Megan softly. “Surely you’re not worried about your new school? You can take it from the horse’s mouth, you are going to have a great time there. Two years will pass before you know it and then you will be really grown up, going to university or doing something equally exciting.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” said Joanna, “it’s you.”
“Me?” echoed Megan in astonishment.
“Well, not just you,” said Joanna, “you and Dad. I thought, well…I know Dad thinks a lot of you, and I thought perhaps you and he…” Her voice trailed off.
“Joanna, you are not having romantic dreams again, are you?” asked Megan. “I’ve told you before you should let your father sort out his own life.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem to be making a very good job of it,” replied Joanna stubbornly, “and now the problem of me has been settled there is no excuse.”
“Oh, Joanna,” sighed Megan, “life isn’t as simple as you would like it to be, or as I would like it to be either, come to that.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I know perhaps you don’t like your Aunt Fiona much, but has it occurred to you that perhaps your father has special feelings for her—perhaps even loves her?”
Joanna burst out laughing. “I sincerely hope not!” she snorted. “She has been happily married to the most odiously rich man for the last ten years, and I have two absolutely horrible little cousins. That was why I didn’t want to spend my last two years of school in the States. I would have had to live with my cousins all the time, and they are so American I just can’t stand them.” She laughed again. “They’re not exactly over fond of me, either.”
Megan sat on the edge of her desk in the office holding the phone against her ear as if in a trance—she was absolutely dumbfounded. Giles had never mentioned that Fiona was married, but that still didn’t account for him telling her that he shouldn’t have kissed her, and that he succumbed to attractive women too easily.
“Megan, are you still there?” asked Joanna’s voice at the other end of the line.
“Yes, yes,” stammered Megan, “I’m still here.”
She heard Joanna draw a deep breath, then she said, “I know Dad is going to shoot me for saying this but I think he is afraid.”
“Afraid?” echoed Megan weakly.
“Yes, afraid,” said Joanna firmly. “He’s afraid that someone as young and beautiful as you will turn him down, so he has steered away from you, afraid to commit himself. Men are like that,” she added wisely, “too proud. Once they’ve been hurt they are afraid of being hurt again, and so end up not taking any risks at all.”
Megan found her voice at last. “For a sixteen-year-old you have some very interesting theories,” she said slowly.
“Promise me you’ll be nice to him,” insisted Joanna quickly. “Give him a chance.”
Megan smiled; she felt as if her room was filled with blinding sunlight, such a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. “I promise, Joanna,” she said softly.
The rest of the day passed for Megan as if in a dream. Yes, she would be nice to him when she saw him next. In fact, she decided, she would kick away any traces of her pride and fling herself at him. If he rebuffs you, that’s that she told herself. But now she knew he was free she just had to find out how he really felt about her. Was he prepared to commit himself?
Thursday morning can’t go quickly enough, thought Megan as she got ready for duty the following day. It would be hard to wait until Giles came back and was on duty again in the afternoon, but wait she would have to.
However, just ten minutes after she had reported for duty that morning, pandemonium broke out. The hospital went on red alert, for there had been a serious coach accident on the motorway and the nearest exit point for transporting the victims to was the County General. The first casualties started arriving just ten minutes after the alert had been received and the staff of the casualty department slipped into their “major incident” roles like impeccably rehearsed actors. Megan was amazed at the smoothness and the calm which everyone portrayed. They had often rehearsed a major incident, but had never actually had to deal with a real one.
The coach that had crashed had been full of old-age pensioners on an outing and there was a formidable range of injuries. All thoughts of Giles Elliott were wiped from her mind as Megan struggled along with the rest of the team, plus the off-duty staff who came back into the hospital to help. The casualties were sorted by the senior surgical registrar into three categories, the most serious of which went straight up to the general theatres on the next floor. The less serious injuries were dealt with in the operating theatre attached to the casualty unit; and those suffering from shock and minor injuries were helped in the accident waiting area.
Megan was part of the team dealing with injuries in the theatre. There was an intense atmosphere, but not one of panic, as everyone worked methodically and as quickly as possible to help the patients. Megan was impressed by the fortitude and courage shown by the old people; not one of them complained and all were pathetically grateful.
She helped the pupil nurse clean up the theatre quickly after they had just finished suturing an old woman’s hand, and then they were ready to receive the next patient, an elderly man in a very shocked condition with badly lacerated legs. He had lost a lot of blood and was weak and faint.
“He ought to be transferred to the upstairs theatres really,” said the surgical registrar as he cut away the old man’s trouser leg.
“I know,” said Megan watching anxiously, “but I’ve checked to see, and they are doing a ruptured spleen up there at the moment, so it’s all hands on deck and they don’t know when they are going to finish.” As she spoke she noticed the blanket covering the upper half of the old man move.
“Don’t worry,” she said, gently placing her hand on the patient’s chest, “everything is going to be all right, I promise. You are in good hands now.”
The old man opened his pale watery blue eyes. “It’s Minnie,” he whispered.
“Minnie?” said Megan. “Who is Minnie? Tell me where she is and I’ll make sure she knows you are going to be all right.”
“Minnie’s here,” he whispered weakly, nodding towards the blanket covering his chest.
Gently Megan pulled back the blanket to be confronted by the frightened gaze of a tiny Yorkshire terrier He must have held her all through the horrific crash and kept her with him ever since.
“Don’t let her die,” he pleaded.
“What’s that?” asked the surgeon, trying to clean the wounds before he decided what he needed to do. “Is the anaesthetist ready yet? We ought to get started.”
“Nurse, come here a moment,” Megan said quietly to the staff nurse standing on the other side of them table. Gently she reached forward and took the small dog in her arms. “Don’t worry about Minnie, Mr. Jackson,” she said after quickly reading the label with his name on it. “I’ll take good care of her until you are better, I give you my word.” She turned quickly to the staff nurse. “I’ll just go and put this little dog safely in my office, then I’ll scrub up again and be back. Will you be OK here for a moment?”
Staff nodded, her eyes wide in astonishment at the sight of the little dog. Megan took the opportunity of the surgeon’s preoccupation with the leg wounds to make her escape from theatre with Minnie in her arms. She hurried down the corridor, the little quivering dog held against her, and when she reached her office she made a little bed for it in one of the drawers by putting a blanket in it. Then she put a saucer of water by the side of the drawer.
“There you are, Minnie,” she said softly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you there until we have your master sorted out.” She locked the office door behind her when she left; it would never do for Minnie to escape and get lost, not after she had promised old Mr. Jackson that she would take good care of her.
Almost all the casualties had been cleared and the accident and emergency team were looking forward to a well-earned coffee-break when suddenly the fire alarm bells started. There were only a few patients left in the waiting area and they were about to be taken back home by ambulance; otherwise, apart from staff, the area was clear.
The patients were put quickly aboard the waiting ambulance. No one took any undue notice of the fire alarm; the fire bells were always ringing and it was always a false alarm.
“I don’t know why they don’t get those electronic things that set those bells off fixed somehow,” grumbled one of the ambulance men as he helped an old lady into the ambulance.
Megan agreed. “The trouble is, if there ever really is a fire,” she said, “none of us will take any notice.”
“Wait until the smoke starts coming, that’s my motto,” joked the ambulance man. Megan was inclined to agree with him. The bells were still ringing as she made her way back from the ambulance bay into Casualty. She glanced at her watch; almost two o’clock and Giles Elliott should be on duty soon. Her heart throbbed in anticipation of seeing him again. She began to walk slowly past the now empty cubicles towards her office when she heard the explosion, and then suddenly a great pall of acrid black smoke rolled like a ball down the corridor towards her. At the same time she heard the crackle of flames and felt the heat from the smoke as it engulfed her.
The surgical registrar she had been helping in theatre ran past her, grabbing her as he ran, a staff nurse and a pupil nurse with him.
“There has been an explosion of some sort in the X-ray department,” he shouted. “I think the rubber cabling has caught fire. Come on, before we all choke.”
Once outside, one of the staff nurses, who was the designated safety officer for the casualty area, quickly lined up the staff and counted them.
“Thank God everyone is here,” she said with a sigh of relief.
“Thank God it didn’t happen when we had all those casualties in from the coach,” said the surgical registrar soberly.
It was then that Megan remembered Minnie, who was still locked up in her office. She thought quickly. If the surgical registrar was right, and the fire was in the X-ray department, that was some way from her office. The only problem was breathing in that thick black smoke.
She had a spare theatre mask in her apron pocket and hastily putting it on she dashed back into the building. The others tried to stop her, but Megan dodged them. The old man’s pleading eyes haunted her—she couldn’t let Minnie die, not without trying to save her.
Once inside the building the smoke was worse than Megan had thought, thick black and choking. She found it almost impossible to see and could feel the heat from the flames which she could now sense at the end of the corridor.
Desperately she made her way along, holding on to the wall so that she wouldn’t lose her sense of direction, her eyes half-closed to the acrid smoke and fumes. She reached the door of her office safely and fumbled to get the key in the lock. It wouldn’t go in. Feverishly she felt for the keyhole, unable to open her eyes to see properly. There was another explosion and a sheet of brilliant orange flame shot down the corridor, the tongues licking the floor only a few feet from where Megan stood. “Please, please let me open the door,” she prayed out loud. Then the key slid into the lock and she turned it and went into her office. The room was relatively smoke free for a second as she opened the door, just long enough for her to see Minnie, still sitting on the blanket and looking very frightened.
Quickly Megan picked her up. The little dog coughed and spluttered as the thick smoke swirled around them. Megan hesitated for a moment, then took off her mask and tied it around the dog’s face, covering her tiny nose and mouth, and the huge, frightened eyes. I’ve got enough sense to hold my breath, she thought as she started back, but Minnie hasn’t. She knew the tiny creature would be asphyxiated very easily, for her lungs were only small. Megan just prayed that she would be able to hold her breath for long enough to get out.
She made her way back towards the faint light of day at the far end of the corridor, which indicated the exit from Casualty to the safety of the outside. She traced her way along the wall with one hand and held on to Minnie tightly with the other. The daylight seemed so far away; Megan felt her head beginning to swim and knew she would have to take a breath soon, but she also knew that if she started breathing in that black smoke she would soon lose consciousness.
Falteringly she made her way along. The daylight seemed to be as far away as ever, would she ever reach it? There was another explosion and she felt the searing heat scorching her back. Then, in the murky darkness, she tripped over a chair and went sprawling and the inevitable happened—she took a breath. The acrid smoke filled her lungs and she started coughing in an uncontrollable spasm, but she never once let go her tight hold of Minnie, who by now was a terrified wriggling bundle in her arms. I’m going to die, was her last conscious thought. Then she felt herself being lifted up and she floated into unconsciousness.
The muted sound of voices eddied around her. It was as if she was in a deep pool and was slowly surfacing. Dimly she was aware of Giles’ face above her, looking anxious. Why is he worrying, thought Megan dreamily—everything is all right. Minnie is safe and that’s the most important thing…
It was the thought of Minnie that jolted her back into consciousness and she sat up abruptly. “Where’s Minnie?” she demanded.
“Do you mean that scrap of fur you risked your life for?” asked Giles, his voice grim, motioning to the attending nurse to leave the room.
“She’s not just a scrap of fur, she’s an old man’s pet,” answered Megan, adding anxiously, “Where is she?”
Giles sat on the edge of the bed and Megan suddenly realised that she was in a small side room off of one of the upstairs wards. “That wretched animal is doing fine in my room,” he said. “She’s eaten a tin of the most expensive dog food and drunk a saucer of milk. Now, does that satisfy you?”
Megan sank back among the pillows, her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, thank you,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have borne it if anything had happened to her. I promised Mr. Jackson I would look after her and he would be so alone without her.” She shuddered at the memory of that ghastly floundering journey through the black smoke. “I don’t remember walking out,” she said.
“You didn’t,” said Giles grimly. “A fireman and I got you out just in time. You had fallen unconscious, overcome by smoke. What on earth possessed you to go without a mask at least?”
“The dog needed it,” said Megan. “Her lungs are smaller than mine and I thought she would suffocate first.”
Giles sighed. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do,” he said. Then his grim mouth relaxed a little. “But an incredibly brave thing too, and unselfish. Perhaps you’re not the hard woman you’ve tried to convince me you were.”
Megan looked at him sitting there on the edge of her bed. She felt more awake now—awake enough to know she was wearing a flimsy cotton hospital nightgown which clung to the firm contours of her young body. Self-consciously she tugged the sheets up around her shoulders. “How long have I been here?” she asked, her voice faltering.
“Twenty-four hours,” said Giles huskily. “Twenty-four hours in which I’ve had plenty of time to think.”
“Oh,” said Megan uncertainly, the look in his blue eyes sending prickles of apprehension up and down her spine. “What have you been thinking about?” she whispered.
“Us,” he said quietly. Then his sculptured lips relaxed and curved into a tender smile as he bent towards her. He lifted her, unresisting, from the austere hospital bed and cradled her in his arms, sliding his warm
hands beneath the straps of the hospital gown until they rested possessively against her soft flesh.
“When you were in that burning building I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispered against her hair. “I knew what I’ve been trying to deny to myself ever since I first met you. I knew that I loved you, and that I can’t live without you.” He shuddered suddenly and held her closer. “And I almost lost you.”
Megan pushed him away a little to look at him, then she grinned impishly. “You couldn’t lose someone like me,” she said. “I’ll always turn up like the proverbial bad penny.”
“Oh, Megan,” he whispered, “you are my good penny. Tell me that you care for me, just a little.”
For an answer Megan linked her arms around his head and drew his face down to hers. Eagerly her soft, trembling mouth sought out his and eagerly too he responded, his warm lips moving persuasively over hers. She kissed him back passionately, impulsively, all the pent-up feelings of the last few months released at last. Finally Giles pulled away from her and his lips tingled a path down her throat towards the madly pulsating hollow of her throat.
“Say it,” he commanded, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“What do you want me to say?” whispered Megan.
“Just three little words will do for a start,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you,” whispered back Megan dutifully. Then she confessed, “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I thought…” Her voice trailed away. It seemed silly to mention it now.
“I know, Joanna told me. You thought I was enamoured or attached in some way to Fiona,” he said. Then he raised he head and gazed down at Megan with his brilliant blue eyes. “I was married when I was very young. It was disastrous from the very beginning and the only good thing that came out of the union was Joanna. If it hadn’t been for her I would never have had to have stayed in close contact with Fiona.” He sighed. “I’ve got to explain this to you—I don’t want any misunderstandings. Fiona and I agreed that we would meet every year until Joanna was sixteen; then Joanna would go and live with her for two years until she was eighteen. We had to do this because of a trust fund which we had to administer jointly for Joanna. I’m afraid Fiona and I never agreed on how it should be administered, but now at last we have come to an amicable agreement and everything has been sorted out. Joanna will stay here, the money will be inherited by her when she is eighteen, and I need never see Fiona again.”