Bride at Bay Hospital

‘Have we?’

He shouldn’t be persisting with this conversation but couldn’t stop himself.

‘Of course we have. We were kids thirteen years ago—now we’re adults.’

‘Are we?’ He caught himself just in time. ‘Dumb question! Of course we are, although do you really feel different—feel like an adult—all the time?’

Meg’s cool façade cracked and she smiled again, enthusiasm bubbling back to the surface with the memories.

‘Right now I feel fifteen again—or thirteen—or eleven—having one of those earnest, interminable discussions we used to have. About evolution or religion or morality or—’

‘Friendship,’ Sam reminded her, taken back himself. ‘Would you lie for a friend? Die for a friend?’

‘No to both—wasn’t that always my stand? That there had to be another way around the problem?’

‘Oh, Meg, there you are.’ A nurse Sam hadn’t met came hurrying towards them. ‘Ben Richards is on his way in by ambulance—heart pains. Jenny phoned, asked if you could meet him.’

‘Ben Richards? The Ben Richards I—’

‘Put in hospital,’ Meg finished for him, but she said it softly so the nurse, who was walking away from them, didn’t hear her.

‘Damn!’ she continued as she hurried down the corridor, Sam following in her wake. ‘His father died from heart disease and Jenny’s been warning him this would happen. Ben’s overweight and he drinks too much.’

‘Then he hasn’t changed,’ Sam muttered, uncertain how to tackle this new challenge in the ‘returning home’ scenario.

‘He’s a patient and whatever that was all about—it was a long time ago,’ Meg reminded him, although she’d have given her eye teeth and probably a couple of front ones as well to know what had happened.

‘I should be able to manage, Sister Anstey,’ Sam told her, coolly polite, the nostalgic moments of accord between them lost again. The Sam who could always hide his feelings was back in control again. ‘In fact, if I remember rightly, you’re the one more likely to lose your temper in pressure situations.’

‘I didn’t put Ben Richards into hospital with concussion and a broken jaw thirteen years ago,’ Meg snapped, then regretted the jibe when she saw the pain on Sam’s face.

It was the one time he’d lost control! No one had ever found out what had started the fight but, whatever it was, the memory still had the power to hurt Sam deeply.

And seeing Sam in pain still affected her…

Oh, dear!

She led the way towards the emergency room doors where the ambulance bearers were already unloading their patient.

‘ECG’s OK but we can only do a rhythm strip so it’s hard to tell. He was in a lot of pain. We gave him aspirin and 5 milligrams of morphine IV, notes all here.’

Meg took the initial assessment forms, signed for them, then handed back one copy to the ambulance bearer before turning to introduce Sam.

‘Cal Johnson, meet Sam Agostini, acting medical super at the hospital.’

‘Sam Agostini? That really you, Sam? Didn’t end up in jail after all!’

Ben’s voice was hoarse as he interrupted the introduction, but he obviously wasn’t upset at meeting his old adversary. He grabbed at Sam’s hand and held it in both of his.

‘I hope you’re a good doctor, mate. My Jenny couldn’t cope with something happening to me right now.’

Sam leaned forward to reassure him as tears began to stream down Ben’s cheeks.

‘Our baby is sick.’ The big man’s voice was hoarse with emotion, his face twisted with grief. ‘So little and so sick—leukaemia. Did you know boys with Down’s syndrome are prone to it? Hardly fair, is it? And just when Jenny needs me to be strong, and supportive for her and the kids—for little Benjie—look at me. Useless bastard that I am!’

‘We’ll have you out of here in no time and, knowing this town, there’ll be someone out there with Jenny right now, helping with the kids.’ Sam rested his other hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘But first things first. Let’s see if we can find out what’s causing your pain and what we can do to stop it happening again.’

He glanced up at Meg.

‘Get him straight onto a twelve-lead ECG. I’ll take blood for testing. Does the hospital have its own path lab?’

‘We can do basic stuff. In Ben’s case cardiac enzymes, white-cell count, ESR, U and E, glucose, lipids and a clotting screen.’

Sam frowned at her.

‘Are you sure you’re not a doctor in disguise?’

Simple enough question, one would have thought, but once again he watched as Meg’s face lost colour. Anguished green eyes were raised to his—anguished green eyes that caused pain in the part of his chest where he didn’t have a heart.

‘Quite sure,’ she said quietly, walking beside the trolley as Ben was wheeled into the trauma room.

She was all efficiency—this woman he hadn’t expected to see and certainly hadn’t expected to feel anything for. Working with swift, sure movements, she changed Ben’s oxygen feed from the bottle on the ambulance trolley to the hospital supply, attached the leads to Ben’s chest, added more leads for a heart monitor then moved the monitor screen so Sam could see it.

And as she worked she talked to Ben—nothing kind of talk, explaining what she was doing, teasing him gently in a way, Sam realised, that boosted Ben’s spirits far more readily than sympathy would have done.

She passed Sam a catheter to insert into Ben’s arm, first to take blood for testing, then so drugs could be administered into his veins. Her fingers accidentally brushed his when the exchange took place, and she glanced up at him, bewilderment showing on her face, as if whatever she had felt puzzled her.

What he’d felt puzzled him as well…

‘It’s bad? Is that what you think?’

Ben’s anxious query told Sam he must be frowning.

‘No way, mate!’ he assured the man. ‘In fact, the exact opposite. There are no visible signs from the ECG that your heart’s playing up.’

‘But the pain!’ Ben protested. ‘It was like an elephant sat on my chest.’

‘I’ve heard it described more elegantly,’ Meg told him.

‘And I’ve heard it described exactly like that,’ Sam put in. ‘The pain is definitely a symptom that something’s not right, which is why we’ve got you hooked up to monitors that are telling us how your heart and lungs are working, and the level of oxygen in your blood. We’ll know more when we get the results of the blood tests back from the lab.’

He glanced enquiringly at Meg who assured him the blood had been sent.

‘What can happen,’ Sam continued, ‘is that the arteries that feed your heart muscle become clogged with plaque, and if they’re not getting enough blood to the heart and the heart muscle isn’t getting enough oxygen from the blood, you’ll feel pain. I’m giving you nitroglycerin to open up those blood vessels so more blood gets through, and the monitors will tell us how the drug is working. We’ll let you rest for a while but eventually you’ll be having a whole battery of tests. Have you been referred to a cardiologist before this?’

Ben shook his head, then grinned at Sam. ‘Only been in hospital once before,’ he said, ‘and you know why that was!’

Sam stopped still, an image flashed before him. A big group of them had been in the street outside the cinema complex, having celebrated the last day of the school year at the movies. He’d been thinking about Meg, who had been due to arrive the following day, when one of the girls—had it been Coralie West?—had come up and slipped her arm through his, suggesting they nip away for a kiss and cuddle at the beach.