Emergency At Bayside

‘No trouble—apart from a coronary when the police came to the door.’ Mary’s attempt at a joke felt more like a telling off, and Meg closed her eyes again, the bright lights of the Emergency observation ward too much for her fragile head. ‘Are you all right, pet?’

Keeping her eyes closed, Meg nodded. Now the collar was off at least she was able to do that. It was about the only thing she could do; her chest felt as if a bus was sitting on it. Mary fussed and chatted for a while, but Meg could almost sense her relief when six o’clock came and her mother had a valid reason to go home.

‘That lovely Irish nurse, Jess, has kept us up to date. She’s away home now, to her husband, but she said that you were to rest as much as possible. Now that you’ve come to, I might get your father home for his dinner. His insulin was due half an hour ago. I’ll be back in first thing tomorrow and we’ll ring the ward tonight.’

Again Meg sensed the sting of disapproval.

‘Are you coming, Kathy?’

‘No.’ Meg felt the bed move as Kathy perched herself on it. ‘I’ll stay with her. Jake can always give me a lift later.’

‘She was only joking about the police,’ Kathy said when their parents had finally gone.

‘Since when did Mum joke?’

‘There’s always a first time. I was in the hydro pool and Jess let Jake know. It was Jake that went and told her.’

Meg looked at her sister. Her uncombed, spiky blonde hair and the faint scent of chlorine certainly held up her story. ‘So the police didn’t come?’

‘No.’ Kathy laughed, but her brimming eyes belied her casual chatter. ‘Actually, you did me a favour. They’ve got a new chief of physio and the workout they were putting me through felt like an army training camp—and, despite what she says, Mum’s had a grand afternoon gossiping to Jess about the fair Emerald Isle.’

Meg attempted to smile, but it died on her lips.

‘She was upset, you know.’ Kathy squeezed Meg’s hand. ‘Really upset.’

‘And now she’s angry.’

‘You know what Mum can be like.’

Meg did know—only too well. The last few months had been a nightmare. It was bad enough finding out that your boyfriend of eighteen months, the man you’d adored, actually thought you had a future with, was in fact married. And not just married. Married to your colleague’s sister, who just happened to go to the same church as your mum. So not only had Meg felt the wrath of disapproval from her colleagues at Melbourne City Hospital, there had been the wrath of her mother to deal with.

Mary O’Sullivan wasn’t sure which was the greater of the two evils. The fact her eldest daughter had been branded a home-wrecker, or the undeniable fact that Meg wasn’t a virgin.

And now she had trashed her car.

‘I hate this year.’

‘I know, but there’s always next year.’

‘Next year will probably be just the same.’

‘It won’t.’ Kathy insisted. ‘You’ve got a new job, new friends, a whole new start. All you have to do is loosen up a bit.’

‘Loosen up?’

‘Try letting people in. It’s a nice world out there. I know Vince hurt you, but not all men are the same.’

Just the mention of his name bought forth a whole fresh batch of tears. Meg hadn’t cried since the day they broke up, and certainly not in front of anyone, but the egg on her head combined with the pain in her chest was such a horrible combination that for once crying came naturally.

‘I’ve got some news that might cheer you up,’ Kathy said desperately. Seeing her sister, who never cried, sobbing in the bed was torture. ‘How do you fancy being a bridesmaid?’

Like a tap being turned off, Meg instantly stopped crying, her eyes swinging round to her sister.

‘You’re engaged?’

‘I have been for…’ Kathy glanced at her watch. ‘Twenty hours now. He asked me last night.’

‘Who, Jake?’

Kathy gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘No, the tram conductor. Of course it’s Jake. Who else?’

‘What does Mum have to say about it?’ Meg asked slowly.

‘Well, the fact we want to get married so quickly— on Valentine’s Day, actually—led to a few sticky questions, but we’ve finally managed to convince her that it’s not a shotgun wedding. We’re just head over heels and want to do it as soon as possible. She’s tickled pink, actually, and insisting that we have an engagement party. But I’ve told her that the most we want is a casual dinner.’

Meg gave a wry laugh. ‘So no doubt she’ll spend tomorrow on the telephone, ringing up hundreds of relatives.’

‘Probably,’ Kathy conceded. ‘But after she’s been in to see you, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘Whoops, look like I’d better make myself scarce—here comes Flynn now.’

Meg screwed up her forehead. ‘Flynn? Do you know him?’

‘He’s a friend of Jake’s…’ As Flynn approached the bed Kathy’s voice trailed off.

‘Good evening, Meg—Kathy.’ He gave her sister a friendly nod.

‘Hi, Flynn. I’ll leave you to it; see you in the morning, Sis.’ Popping a quick kiss on Meg’s cheek, Kathy limped off.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better. Well, sore but better.’ The beginning of a blush was creeping over her cheeks.

‘That’s good. You’ve had a very lucky escape, Meg, all your tests have come back as normal. Apart from a lot of bruising, which is going to hurt for a while, and a mild concussion, you’ve got off very lightly.’ He peered at his notes for a moment, and Meg watched as he fiddled uncomfortably with his pen. ‘Can you remember what happened yet?’

Meg shook her head. Normally she would have left it there, but there was something about Flynn, something about the way he had smiled at her this morning, the drama they had shared, that made her take the plunge and for the first time in ages prolong a conversation. ‘No, but I do remember you offering to save me a Danish pastry. You didn’t, by any chance, did you?’

Her attempt at small talk was instantly to her dying shame rebuffed.

‘Apparently the police seem to think that you might have fallen asleep at the wheel.’

Embarrassed at his businesslike tone, Meg felt her blush only deepen. ‘I didn’t!’

‘There were no skid marks at the scene, and apparently you were exhausted when you left this morning—though Jess told only me that, I hasten to add. I haven’t written it in my notes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, an exasperated tone creeping into his voice. ‘Why the hell didn’t you get a taxi?’

She knew he was wrong, knew somehow that the picture he was painting wasn’t how it had happened, but her total lack of recall didn’t put her in the best position to argue the point.

‘I didn’t fall asleep,’ Meg intoned.

‘The police…’