Nancy shook her head.
‘Don’t be silly, Nan. You’re not going mad. You’ve just been through a lot lately.’
‘Are you going to send me away?’ Joanie sobbed, accepting her fate.
‘Of course not! We’re going to get you better, that’s all. You need some rest. Some proper rest, and you need to be looked after. I know Colleen and Grandad have been doing their bit, but I think we need to let the doctors look after you for a while. It won’t be for long, I promise. Just a little while. Just until you’re feeling better. We just want to get you well again. You want to get better, don’t you?’
Joanie nodded then and Nancy could see it. The real determination in the woman’s eyes. A glimmer of the old Joanie. Determined and strong. She was still in there. Nancy knew it.
‘And you will, Nan. I promise you. You’ll get some help, and before you know it you’ll be back to your old self again.’
Joanie patted her daughter’s hand.
Right now she really hoped so, more than anything else in the whole wide world.
‘Thank you so much, Doctor Dolan,’ Nancy said as the doctor walked back up the driveway towards the house now that he had settled Joanie in the back of the car. Michael Byrne was sitting on the back seat next to her.
Jack Taylor had his arm around Colleen who, surprisingly, had been inconsolable. Not in the least bit happy about the doctor wanting to admit Joanie to one of the top psychiatric hospitals in London. Colleen had been admitted to the very same place over the years. Nancy wondered if that’s where her mother’s real angst was coming from. That her mother knew what those places could be like. Though Colleen had protested so much about Joanie being admitted that even Nancy had begun to question whether or not she was making the right decision.
‘You are doing the right thing, Nancy,’ Dr Dolan said, sensing the anguish on the younger girl’s face as he held out the paperwork for Nancy Byrne to sign. ‘I would hazard a guess that your nan has had a breakdown, but we won’t know the extent of her mental well-being until we’ve carried out some tests on her.’
Nancy nodded.
‘She’ll be in the very best of hands, Nancy. The Nightingale Unit has a very dedicated team of consultant psychiatrists and therapists. We’ll put your nan on a specialist inpatient programme and we’ll have a diagnosis done within the next few days. After that, it will be just a case of deciding what treatment will work best for her and getting your nan well again.’
Signing the paperwork, Nancy made a silent promise to herself to visit her nan every single day. They had to get her nan better. No matter what.
‘Thank you, Doctor. Here let me walk you out,’ Nancy said, handing over the paperwork and leading the doctor back out on to the driveway.
Losing her footing, Nancy would have toppled over if it hadn’t been for the quick thinking doctor grabbing at her arm and holding her upright.
‘Are you okay, Nancy? Do you want to sit down?’ Doctor Dolan asked, concerned for Nancy now too. He knew the family history of the Byrne family. The fact that Nancy had recently buried her grandmother Edel, and also her father who had been murdered. Now her nan was sick too. The extreme stress that they had all been under lately was clearly taking its toll on all of them.
Nancy Byrne included.
‘I’m okay.’ Nancy smiled. Grateful of the help. Feeling silly now as she saw Colleen and Jack both turning and looking at her. Both of them looking equally concerned for her as she steadied herself on her feet. Stepping back and holding on to the doorframe for support.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Doctor Dolan said.
‘Honestly. I just felt a bit dizzy, that’s all. It’s nothing. It’s been happening a lot lately. I haven’t been sleeping that much…’
The doctor nodded.
‘Well, I’m happy to give you an examination. I could come back tomorrow? Just to make sure you’re okay?’
‘No, honestly, I’m fine it’s nothing.’
Dr Dolan laughed. ‘You say that, but sometimes it’s worth checking. Only yesterday I got an emergency call out from one of my patients. The same as you, she’d been complaining of exhaustion. Zapped of all energy. She couldn’t keep a thing down. The poor woman told me that she’d been meaning to call me to book in a check-up, only she’d convinced herself for months that she was dying of some terrible illness… it only turns out that she was pregnant. The poor woman didn’t actually find that out until 3 a.m. in the morning when she’d started going into labour while sitting on the toilet. At least her story had a happy ending though, eh? Are you sure you don’t want me to at least examine you? And check your blood pressure?’ Dr Dolan said, glad that his story had made Nancy smile at least. ‘You do look awfully pale.’
‘Honestly, I’m fine. If it happens again, I’ll call you,’ Nancy said. Not wanting to cause the doctor any further fuss, nor wanting the added attention. ‘Thank you so much for coming out and seeing to my nan. I’ll let my grandad settle her in, and I’ll come by first thing tomorrow morning and see her.’
Doctor Dolan nodded and made his way back to the car. Getting in and starting the engine.
Nancy watched as they drove away, praying that her nan would be okay, as her mother and Jack walked back towards the house now.
‘I’ll go and make us another cup of tea, shall I?’ Colleen offered as she stepped inside the house.
Nancy offered her mum a small smile in return. She knew that Colleen and Joanie had grown close this past few weeks. That Colleen genuinely cared about her nan. What’s more, the woman had finally stepped up, it seemed. Maybe it was time to put her grievance with her mother to bed, once and for all. Nancy was done with all the drama.
Closing the front door behind them all, Jack looked at Nancy.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked, having seen Nancy take a tumble outside.
Nancy nodded.
‘I’m fine. Even Doctor Dolan said it was probably just the stress of everything that’s happened. Honestly, it’s nothing a lie-down won’t fix.’
‘Okay. I’ll leave you to it then,’ Jack Taylor said, taking the hint that Nancy probably needed some space right now. ‘I’ll go back to Bridge Street and make sure that everything’s ready for tonight. I’m sure Bridget will have it all in hand. She’s loving this promotion you’ve given her. Though, it might be going to her head a bit. She’s asked the other girls to call her ma’am. She can fuck right off if she thinks I’m going to follow suit.’
Nancy laughed at that.
‘I’ll come back over in a few hours. After I’ve got my head down for a bit.’ She smiled, glad that the awkwardness that had lingered between them these past few weeks seemed to have dissolved now.
Nancy saw Jack out, closing the door behind him before she leant up against the door and closed her eyes, the doctor’s words still swimming about in the forefront of her mind. Dizzy and nauseous, that’s what the doctor had said. The story he’d told her about his other patient. The woman had been exhausted, so drained.
It all made complete sense now.
Nancy had been thinking that she was under too much stress, that she was grieving and tired.
Physically and mentally exhausted.
But now Nancy Byrne knew. Without a single doubt.
She was carrying Jack Taylor’s child.
Chapter Forty
‘He’s stabilised for now.’ Staff Nurse Louise Langton spoke softly as she led the new junior nurse down along the ward, towards the private room where their patient was currently being treated.
She could see that the younger girl was nervous. It was only natural, of course. It was the girl’s very first day on shift. Talk about throwing the poor thing in at the deep end. Young Marie Huston looked as if she was just about to be fed to the lions and, in some ways, she was. Having worked on the Burns Unit at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital for just over five years, Nurse Langton was all too aware of how traumatic it was going to be for her having to see and deal w
ith such a badly burnt patient for the first time. She still remembered her own first day working here as if it was yesterday and she knew from her own experience that there wasn’t a textbook, or university in the world that could have prepared her for the shock of it.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked, standing outside the door so that she could give the younger nurse a few more moments to gather herself before they went into the room.
‘The doctor and the trauma surgeon have just finished assessing the patient’s wounds. He’s been heavily sedated so he won’t be very responsive, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t know that we are there. So be careful what you say – it’s always a shock when you first see a patient so badly burnt,’ Nurse Langton warned. ‘Chances are, the patient will more likely remain in an induced coma, but you never know. We need to stay professional at all times.’ The nurse spoke softly now. ‘Walking in to this room today will be the hardest part of your career.’
‘How bad is he?’ Nurse Huston asked, her voice tiny. Her face drained of all colour now, the poor woman looked petrified.
‘He’s suffered significant burns to his entire body. The doctors have noticed other injuries too.’ The nurse held back then. Not wanting to mention that the patient also had possibly been tortured. That he had other wounds on his body that they’d have to tend to – missing toenails or fingers on the man’s feet and hands.
‘A dog walker found him. Out by an old abandoned warehouse behind the old railway lines in King’s Cross. The police think that it was possibly a premeditated attack. That he was doused in petrol and that somehow he’d managed to roll around on the floor and put himself out; though how he survived is beyond us all. He didn’t have any ID on him when they brought him in and, so far, we have no idea who he is.’
Nurse Langton and two of the other senior nurses had already tended to this patient for the past couple of days. Excising his burns, cutting away any dead tissue from his skin to prevent any further infection. They needed to keep the wounds clean now. Changing his dressings regularly and keeping the wounds clean was a harrowing job. Especially to a nurse who was new to all of this.
‘If you feel a bit queasy, and you need to leave the room at all, then please do so,’ the nurse said sympathetically pointing towards the toilets opposite, before placing her hand over the door handle. ‘Okay. You ready?’
Nurse Huston nodded. Following the older nurse into the room.
‘Jesus,’ she muttered despite herself and Nurse Langton’s words of advice just seconds earlier. The scene before her looked like something out of a horror movie. The dark charred body of a person lying in the hospital bed, his skin black and blistered. The stench of burning flesh in the room all around them.
She could hear an awful noise, too. A low, deep groaning that rang out in the room around them. It sounded animalistic. Like that of nothing she’d ever heard before. Pure agony.
The two senior doctors were leaving the room, nodding at the senior nurse and her assistant to take over.
Nurse Langton got to work.
‘Okay, we’re going to apply the patient’s new dressings now. Are you ready?’
Nurse Huston nodded, but really she felt physically sick. Swallowing back the acidic burn of bile that churned at the back of her throat. Eyeing the bottles of saline and tubes of paraffin. The endless rolls of dressings. Reaching out her trembling hands towards the trolley, she froze.
‘I don’t think I can do this.’
‘Of course you can,’ Nurse Langton insisted as she passed the younger nurse the first rolls of dressings.
Nurse Huston took them. Trying her hardest to banish her nerves, she set to work, mentally making the wound assessment in her head, reminding herself which dressing would be required for each area of the patient’s body, just as the patient flung himself forward in the bed. Sitting bolt upright suddenly. Staring right at her.
His head had ballooned to double its normal size, making him look deformed. Abnormal, like some sort of an alien. The blistering skin on his face was flaking off in strips, striking such contrast between the sickly bright pink flesh and the charcoal black burnt tissue.
His eyelids, swollen, closed.
A loud alarm screaming out across the room, quickly followed by Nurse Huston’s own scream.
‘Hold on!’ Nurse Langton ordered, immediately running to the other side of the bed and adjusting the patient’s ventilator. ‘He’s bucking the ventilator. Quick, help me ease him back down onto the bed,’ she called out, knowing that time was of the utmost essence.
But Nurse Huston shook her head.
That was the only movement she was capable of making. Her feet were glued to the spot. Her skin prickled with terror. She’d never seen anything like this before, and hoped that she never would again.
‘Nurse Huston. Now!’
The older nurse’s stern voice quickly brought Nurse Huston out of her panic-induced trance. Doing as she was told, the two nurses lowered the patient back down onto the bed, relieved that the initial panic was over.
‘“Bucking the ventilator”?’ Nurse Huston said, confused as the two women stared down at the man lying on the bed. His breathing had fallen back into rhythm with the ventilator. The wheezing and the whirring both merging together as one. The initial panic over.
‘The ventilator disconnected,’ Nurse Langton reminded the young nurse. ‘It happens sometimes.’
Nurse Langton busied herself preparing the dressings. Passing a roll to the younger nurse she said: ‘He can’t feel anything. Not with the amount of morphine and Valium we’ve administered. Though once he’s conscious again it will be a very different story. Especially when his dressings are being changed. That’s the worst bit. Re-exposing the burn to the air can feel excruciatingly painful but we’ll do our best to control it for him.’
‘Is he going to survive?’
Nurse Langton wasn’t able to answer that question. Instead she skirted around it. ‘The important thing for now is that we make sure he doesn’t go into shock. We need to keep his fluids up and his temperature down. He’s been placed on a drip and he’s receiving around-the-clock care. The next twenty-four hours are critical. We need to keep a close eye on him.’ She prepared to apply some saline wash to the patient’s skin. ‘The good news is that there seems to be no sign of any internal damage to his throat from smoke inhalation, so that’s a good sign. The burns always look worse at first, but the skin is an amazing organ, you know. Capable of healing really well; trust me, I’ve seen many a miracle working here in my time.’
Nurse Langton knew that she was being optimistic. This patient was by far one of the most badly burnt that she’d seen in the unit for years: sixty-five per cent burns meant that, technically, the patient shouldn’t even be here. This would affect him for the rest of his life. He’d be badly scarred, disabled possibly. And even after all of that there would be countless operations and skin grafts needed. Physiotherapy on his affected muscles, but not only that, there were the other scars to deal with too. The scars on the inside. The panic attacks. The never-ending anxiety as the patient relived the torturous memories. And worse than all of that, there was always a chance that the patient might not recover at all. That the injury and damage to his internal organs was just too severe for him to survive.
Until he started the healing process, they wouldn’t know the extent of what they were dealing with. But until then, they just had to try their hardest to keep the patient as comfortable as possible.
As the two nurses set to work side by side in silence, both of them concentrating solely on their patient, they both knew that all they could now was their very best to try to keep him alive.
Though for this patient, Nurse Langton couldn’t help but think, the kindest thing might be to just let him die.
Daniel Byrne was trapped in a lucid dream, or a nightmare? As yet he was unable to distinguish between the two.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t even open his eyes.
Unsure if he was awake, or if this was even real.
He felt as if he was floating in and out of his body. Experiencing short bursts of an epic euphoria before constantly being plunged back down into a deep all-consuming pit of crippling pain.
It was constant. Rhythmic.
Euphoria, then agony once more. Over and over.
He tried to concentrate on the voices that he could hear around him. Close? Far away?
There was a shrill sharp beeping of alarms echoing around him too.
Where the fuck was he?
He tried so hard to try to remember. To piece together the jigsaw puzzle.
A huge crippling wave of pain washed over him, his skin feeling as if it was being instantaneously stabbed with a thousand needles.
As if he was on fire.
Fire.
He remembered then. Being strapped to the chair in an old warehouse at the mercy of Alfie Harris. The torture that he’d endured. The petrol that had been poured over him, before Alfie had left him to die alone out there.
Daniel couldn’t remember anything after that.
Homing in on the noises around him. The sounds of monitors and alarms. A thick plastic tube inside his mouth.
He must be in hospital, he thought.
He was in a bad way. He knew he must be, because he couldn’t wake himself up. And the pain was unbearable. So intense that Daniel just wanted to succumb to the sweet allure of nothingness. Anything, so this agony would go away.
Desperate to escape it, he tried to sink inside himself. Tried to breathe, to focus. How easy it would be for him to just give in to death, he thought.
But then he thought about his sister Nancy.
How that bitch had set him up. She’d done all of this and when she was finished, she’d handed him over to Alfie Harris so willingly. This was her payback for their father’s death. Nancy would be willing him to die now. Willing death to take him and that alone was a reason to live, Daniel Byrne thought with a newfound determination.
The Broken_A gripping thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat Page 28