In an agony of indecision she rolled over on her stomach and watched a little yacht tacking its way across the bay. Perhaps, she thought miserably, she should move away again—go back North and have the baby there! Problems whirled round in her head like so many ingredients in a mixer.
‘You seem deep in thought.’ Andy’s deep voice interrupted her worried thoughts. ‘What are you dreaming about?’
Rosie sat up abruptly. ‘Oh, nothing much—just things I have to plan for…’
He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘I’ve been thinking of plans myself,’ he commented lightly. ‘I might bring Keiron back over here for the summer—that is, if he wanted to.’
And if he didn’t want to? Rosie smiled inwardly. Of course Andy would do what his son wanted. She wondered curiously what this little boy was like. Undoubtedly well loved, but nevertheless having to cope with parents far apart—it was a strange situation.
‘Would you ever move to the States to be near him?’ she asked. ‘I know you didn’t initially go there because you were still taking exams here.’
He nodded and sighed. ‘Of course—if I could get the right job near Keiron, I can see that happening.’
Rosie was silent. Then what future could there be between them? She could never agree to move there. Home was the country of her birth, where Lily was, and Amy was happy. How complicated life would get if he knew she was having his child!
She began to gather their things together. ‘Time to go,’ she said firmly, slipping on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt over her bikini.
As they walked back to the car together, Andy looked down at her with his heart-melting smile and took her hand, pulling her towards him gently and brushing her hair from her forehead. ‘What a lovely, happy afternoon we all had together,’ he murmured.
Rosie stiffened, her heart starting to gallop at his touch, as if a switch had turned on an electric current between them. ‘We must go, Andy,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It’s getting a bit late…’
His eyes danced at her. ‘We never finished what we started yesterday,’ he murmured. ‘Remember? We were just in the middle of saying farewell to each other in the garden, like this, when we were rudely interrupted by the phone!’
He drew her towards him and, looking deep into her eyes, held her face in his hands and brushed her mouth with his. Then his kiss became harder, more passionate and she felt the inevitable response of her body and the familiar liquid feeling of desire flooding through her. His hands started to stray over her wantonly, her breasts, her waist and back, and every erogenous zone in her body cried out for him to make love to her.
With hard and desperate determination she pushed him away—this was utterly ridiculous. She couldn’t allow him to do this when she didn’t even know if she could tell him about their baby!
‘Please, Andy…that’s enough of the farewells,’ she said shakily. ‘I…I need to get back and help Lily put Amy to bed.’ She turned away from him and started walking up the garden—she didn’t want him to see the longing in her eyes.
He took the picnic basket from her and murmured, ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart.’ His glance swept over her appraisingly. ‘I think the afternoon’s done you good—there’s more colour in your cheeks. I told you it would be an opportunity to relax!’
Rosie sighed—the truth was, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so churned up in her life!
CHAPTER NINE
THE ringing of Rosie’s phone was insistent and loud. It was impossible to ignore it even if one was cosily asleep and in the middle of a lovely dream—a dream that entailed her walking with Andy, pushing a pram with a smiling baby lying in it, and Boggle and Amy running ahead down to the sea.
She turned over and groaned, wondering through the fog of sleep why anyone should phone her at two o’clock in the morning when she wasn’t on call. Then the cold hand of reality gripped her heart, and brought her back to the bleak truth that she hadn’t yet made up her mind whether to tell Andy or not about her pregnancy.
‘Yes?’ she croaked.
A familiar deep voice sounded in her ear. ‘Rosie, sorry to disturb you, but we need your help.’
Suddenly wide awake, she sat up abruptly. ‘Andy? What’s happened?’
His voice was clipped. ‘There’s been an RTA on the old country road—a bus carrying a lot of holiday-makers smashed into a sports car and has rolled part way down the cliff. We need everyone we can get at the hospital.’
‘Sure. I’m on my way.’
It had to be a major incident to call in all the local doctors. It didn’t take long to scramble into some clothes and whisper to a bemused Lily where she was going, before driving as fast as she dared to Porlstone General Hospital, all thoughts of her pregnancy pushed well to the background. She felt the familiar dry mouth and quickened heartbeat which, when she’d been a junior hospital doctor, had always kicked in when something major had happened.
The emergency department was lit up, the driveway littered with ambulances, blue lights still flashing. Rosie could see Andy in a white coat at the entrance, a clipboard in his hand, making notes as each patient was stretchered in, some already attached to drips.
‘Go through to the small ops theatre—Sister’s there and she’s organising things,’ said Andy as Rosie ran up. He motioned to a crowded reception area with people lying on trolleys, rather like a battle area. ‘It’s pretty grim—two people in ICU.’
Rosie took a sharp breath. The patients seemed to be mostly elderly, some of them completely stunned, others bravely trying to comfort their friends.
Sister Betty O’Connor seemed like an oasis of calm amidst the frenzied activity of trolleys being pushed into side cubicles and porters bringing wheelchairs and oxygen cylinders into the main corridor. Staff brought in from other wards mingled with policemen standing, grim-faced, waiting to interview the walking injured.
‘Thanks for coming—I’m so glad Andy got hold of you. Perhaps you’d better put this on,’ she said, handing Rosie a white coat. ‘Then can you cross-match the bloods of the man in the next cubicle and do his obs? He’s the driver of the car involved—he’s in shock, as you might guess. He’s just been wheeled in.’
Rosie flicked a quick look at the patient’s name on the chart at the end of the trolley. He wasn’t very old—possibly in his late thirties. A large gash stood out lividly red on his forehead, and a huge area of his chest was already turning mottled blue and purple. She attached a sensor on his arm to the Dynamap machine, which gave a constant reading of his blood pressure, and prepared to draw off some blood.
‘Mr Hawkstone,’ she said softly but clearly, noting the man’s pallid complexion and grey lips. ‘I’m just checking your blood pressure…’
He looked nervously at her. ‘And what are you doing with that needle?’
‘Taking some blood so that we’ll know your blood group and can match it up if you need a transfusion.’
The man struggled feebly to get up. ‘Don’t do that…I don’t want it done!’
‘It won’t hurt in the least,’ soothed Rosie reassuringly. ‘Please, lie back—it’ll be very quick.’
She bent over the man’s arm and pinched his skin to show up a vein. Just as she was about to insert the needle he jerked his arm away, and with a sudden surge of energy punched his other arm towards her. With a lightning-fast reaction Rosie dodged his punch, but staggered back with a crash against a cupboard.
‘I told you I don’t want you to do that,’ he muttered in a slightly slurred way.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ yelped Rosie, as the needle hurtled across the bed, narrowly missing her face. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
The curtain swished open just as Rosie was recovering her balance, and Andy came in. ‘What’s all the noise about?’ he asked, looking sharply at Rosie.
She shrugged. ‘Mr Hawkstone,’ she said coldly, ‘seems reluctant to let me take any of his blood.’
Andy raised one brow and said grimly. ‘Really
? I wonder why that is.’
He bent over the torpid figure of the man for a second then turned back to Rosie, pulling a face. He dropped his voice. ‘Could be he’s unwilling because he’s been drinking. You obviously haven’t got near enough yet to smell his breath—it reeks of alcohol.’
He turned to squint at the Dynamap gauge. ‘BP’s a bit low—85 over 50. I’ll get some Haemacell into him.’
He hooked up a bag of the replacement fluid, which would counteract the effects of shock, and watched as Rosie bent over Mr Hawkstone, listening to his chest through her stethoscope. Her face was expressionless as she looked up at Andy. ‘Sounds a bit laboured—how soon can he go for X-ray?’
‘There’s a bit of a backlog, I think. He might be haemorraging somewhere so I’ll try and get a portable X-ray unit in.’
The man stirred fretfully. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I didn’t expect to see a bloody bus on the road at that time of night.’
Rosie’s eyes met Andy’s—it wasn’t up to them to apportion blame, but a cold feeling of fury was beginning to creep through Rosie’s soul. Three years ago a drunken driver had killed her husband and Amy’s father. Many people had been affected by Tony’s death—she couldn’t help her bitter thoughts as she hooked an oxygen mask over Edward Hawkstone’s face and adjusted his drip. Every time she dealt with the results of a drunk-driving accident it brought back memories of that terrible night. It was hard to keep a detached frame of mind in such circumstances.
Betty O’Connor bustled in. ‘How’s Mr Hawkstone?’
‘We need an X-ray p.d.q. Can you speed things up?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said dryly, swishing back through the curtains again. A few moments later she reappeared. ‘I’ve Mr Hawkstone’s wife here.’ she said in a low voice. ‘Is he OK to see her?’
Rosie nodded. ‘That’ll be fine.’
An attractive blonde woman came in, her faced tearstained and scared. She stared wordlessly at her husband, overawed by the sight of him hooked up to drips and the terrible bruising on his chest.
‘Heavens, Edward, what on earth have you done to yourself?’ she breathed at last.
Andy pushed a chair forward and gently sat her down. ‘Don’t worry about all the tubes.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘We’re just waiting for him to go to X-Ray—we’ll have a better picture of any injuries he has then.’
Mrs Hawkstone nodded wordlessly, still staring at her husband’s face, then she took his hand in hers and clutched it tightly. ‘How…how did it happen?’ she whispered. ‘I was so worried when you were late back from the dinner…’
Edward Hawkstone grimaced. ‘These buses…they’re too damn large for country lanes. I tried to avoid it, but…’ His voice faded and his head flopped back on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling.
‘They’re ready for Mr Hawkstone in X-Ray.’ A porter appeared by the curtains and Andy helped him manoeuvre the trolley into the corridor. Mrs Hawkstone looked at both doctors uncertainly. ‘He…he’ll be all right, won’t he?’ she asked tremulously.
‘Yes. Don’t worry,’ said Rosie. ‘He’ll be fine.’
She wondered if the people in ICU would be all right, then sighed. For all she knew, the bus might have been on the wrong side of the road but, as sure as anything, Edward Hawkstone’s reactions would have been seriously compromised by his alcohol level.
‘Perhaps you’d like to go and get some tea, Mrs Hawkstone? Your husband may be some time—and I’m sure, whatever they find when they X-ray him, he’ll have to stay in for observation at least. I think Sister’s ringing around now. We’ll let you know.’
Mrs Hawkstone trailed off dejectedly down the corridor and Rosie stared after her. Who knew how that woman’s life would change after the events of tonight? And all because her husband had had too much to drink.
It was a long and grim night. One of the passengers from the bus collapsed and died from a heart attack despite all the staff’s best efforts, and a patient in ICU had her leg amputated. Her eyes gritty with sleep, Rosie slumped down in the small kitchen off Casualty and put her head in her arms. She hadn’t dealt with this sort of situation for a few years and she’d forgotten how emotionally draining it could be.
Betty came in and poured herself a large black coffee, then waved the jug at Rosie.
‘Will you have one?’ she asked. ‘It’s been a pretty fraught night, I’m afraid.’ She paused for a second, then said brusquely, ‘The bus driver’s only got a slim chance—they’re moving him to the neuro unit at St Catherine’s.’
Rosie looked at her steadily. ‘You know the driver of the car was reeking of drink, don’t you?’
Betty got up with a sigh from the chair she’d collapsed into a minute before. ‘The police will get all the facts,’ she said gently, then pulled a wry face. ‘No matter how long I’m in this job, I don’t seem to get used to these tragedies—so bloody unnecessary, some of them.’
She trudged out and Rosie glanced at her watch. Four o’clock! No wonder she felt like a zombie. She got up and stretched, then heard sounds of quiet crying outside in the corridor. She went to the door and saw a young nurse helping an elderly woman to the private room that was used by bereaved relatives. Andy was walking behind them.
‘What happened?’ Rosie asked him softly.
He looked grim. ‘I just had to tell her that her husband has died—multiple internal injuries. They were on a holiday to celebrate their golden wedding anniversary.’
Rosie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Poor things—they didn’t deserve that.’
Andy looked at her perceptively, then took her arm and led her back into the kitchen. ‘This has really got to you, hasn’t it?’
Rosie put her hands up to her face. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just…just that it brings back to me the night that Tony died. I know how that poor woman is feeling. The drunk who mowed Tony down had the same excuse as that man made tonight. He said it wasn’t his fault—he said that Tony must have walked into the path of his car. I saw Tony’s body, and I shall never forget it. The man must have been racing like a lunatic out of that car park to inflict the damage he did.’
She looked at him bleakly and Andy put his arms round her and rocked her against him, as one would to soothe a child.
‘You poor sweetheart,’ he murmured. ‘What a pity you had to deal with that man tonight.’
How comforting his warm body was! She could feel the steady beat of his heart against hers, the strength of his embrace calming her, restoring her equilibrium. Then astoundingly and without warning a wonderful feeling of peace stole over her and she realised with blinding clarity that the grief she’d felt for Tony had finally disappeared. Yes, the night had brought back memories of the terrible evening of his death, but it was as if she were remembering someone she’d known a long, long time ago, in another life. Now someone else had taken the place of that emptiness. That was something she’d known for a long time really—an overwhelming love for the man who was holding her so close to him at that moment. It was odd that the blinding flash of insight she’d just had should come after a night of tragedy.
She relaxed thankfully against Andy, allowing this new-found serenity to lap over her. At last she realised she could put her grief for Tony finally behind her, allow herself to love and live again without any guilt. She leant her head against Andy’s face for a moment, the morning stubble of his chin scratching her cheek. He’d been up longer than she had—he must be exhausted, too. She pulled gently away from him and smiled at him.
‘I’ve got to learn to overcome these things. It’s all part of the job, isn’t it?’
‘It doesn’t make it any easier, though,’ he said gently, then added, ‘You must be dropping on your feet. Shall I drive you home?’
Again a feeling of love for him swept through her—he was so sweet and kind. Was she doing the right thing to keep her pregnancy from him, even if his future was in the States? It was a dilemma she couldn’t get to grips w
ith yet but, whatever happened now, she knew that she never need look back again, shackled by the chains of grief. Then she shook her head as complete exhaustion came over her.
‘Thanks for the offer, Andy, but I’d better drive myself back—I’ll need the car in a few hours for work!’
‘You know, darling, I don’t want to pry, but you haven’t seemed yourself lately—even after all that lovely sun on the beach yesterday afternoon, you look so pale. Is anything wrong at work?’
Lily’s face puckered anxiously across at Rosie as they ate their evening meal together. ‘I think you’ve been overdoing it, you know, with this partner off with his back and everything.’
Rosie coloured slightly and concentrated rather hard on cutting Amy’s toast into small squares.
‘Not at all!’ she said lightly. ‘Actually, Roddy’s coming back on Monday. He’s made a very good recovery, so the load will be much lighter.’
Lily looked at her sharply. ‘Oh, dear—does that mean that Andy will be leaving? He’s only a locum, isn’t he? But he’s such a nice man! You’d miss him, wouldn’t you?’
‘He won’t be leaving yet,’ replied Rosie lightly. ‘He’s been so invaluable that we’re going to try and keep him on—if he’ll stay. Now it’s the holiday season, we’re bound to get even busier, with tourists. It’s amazing how many of them are ill and have accidents when they’re here—last night was an awful example.’
‘That must have drained you,’ said Lily sympathetically. ‘You should have an early night tonight. Let me put Amy to bed, you sit on the terrace and relax and then I’ll come down and we’ll discuss where you could go for a holiday. It’s obvious to me you need a break!’
Tempting Dr. Templeton Page 14