From Single Mum to Lady (17 page)

Patrick was murmuring to Jed, his voice low and reassuring: ‘It’s all right, Jed, you’ll be fine. You’re doing well. Don’t worry, Jed, we’ll be giving you something for that pain very soon.’

He used his patient’s name often, trying to hold the young man’s attention and keep him calm, realising that it was pain and shock that was causing the touch of hysteria in Jed’s voice.

‘I need to let my girlfriend know—I should be meeting her now…’ he kept repeating, with a rising inflection. ‘She won’t know where I am. I’ve got to meet her, you see…’

‘Where were you meeting her, Jed? Tell me, and someone will contact her, I promise,’ Patrick said soothingly.

‘Her name’s Rachel and it’s on my mobile in my pocket. She’ll be worried if I don’t turn up.’

‘Sister will ring her for you. Get his mobile out of his trouser pocket, would you, Staff?’

Patrick moved his hands over the youth’s rib cage, checking for any misalignment, watching Jed’s face as he did so and not the area being felt so that he could tell immediately if he touched a cracked rib or a torn muscle.

Jed moaned and shifted his body from side to side restlessly, showing all the signs of acute discomfort, bending and straightening his legs. Occasionally he coughed, bringing up blood.

‘What happened? What happened?’ he mumbled. ‘Something crashed into me…’

‘It was a car, Jed—it took a corner too quickly. You were outside the pub,’ Jandy said quietly, trying to help Jed orientate himself. ‘You’re in the hospital now and we’re helping you.’

Patrick looked up from examining Jed, his eyes meeting Jandy’s for a second, but oddly cold and remote. ‘Staff, would you get Bob Thoms, please?’

His voice was authoritative, terse. It was as if he and Jandy had never had a relationship at all. There was no trace of softness in his expression, just stern preoccupation.

He was only being professional, Jandy told herself as she went to find Bob, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bewildered and surprised by his brusque manner.

‘What’s going on with this young man?’ Bob asked Patrick when he came into the theatre. ‘Any sign of impending coma or shock syndrome? Is he panicking?’

Patrick shook his head. ‘He’s alert and coherent. He’s been able to tell us how to contact his girlfriend. No sign of aortic tear or heart injury. I’m making a tentative diagnosis of lung bruising. I wanted your input.’ He turned to Tilly, aware that the student nurse didn’t have much experience of this kind of injury, and explained, ‘These impact accidents often mean the victim inhales sharply and holds onto the air, and then a sharp blow to the chest, like Jed’s had, can cause pressure to build up round the lungs, tearing open the superficial blood vessels.’

Bob nodded in agreement. ‘Although Jed’s in a lot of pain, he’s not exhibiting the extreme panic that’s often a sign of a chest injury involving the heart or aorta. Luckily he wasn’t standing near a wall or another solid object when he was hit—that can make a hell of a mess of a body with multiple fractures or worse. We’ll get him X-rayed and admitted to Surgical to have his respiration monitored and some pain relief administered.’

‘Can you make those arrangements, Staff?’ asked Patrick, his tone as remote as if he had hardly been introduced to Jandy.

Jandy went out with Tilly to book an X-ray and ring Surgical, a slow burn of annoyance beginning to flicker inside her at Patrick’s manner. Perhaps she didn’t know this man as well as she’d thought she did—he seemed to have reverted back to the rudeness he’d shown when she’d looked around the cottage. And yet…and yet only such a short time ago they had been in each other’s arms and she’d been absolutely sure that he was her soul-mate. Surely the fiery intimacy they’d had together had meant more to him than just a casual fling? Then a little voice in her head whispered sadly, But didn’t he warn you that he couldn’t commit to anyone—that long-term relationships with him were not a possibility?

Tilly’s breathless voice broke into her jangled thoughts. ‘Wow—Dr Sinclair knows so much, doesn’t he?’ she said admiringly as they went to the desk.

‘He’s an experienced casualty officer,’ commented Jandy rather tartly. ‘He ought to know what he’s talking about.’

Karen had just finished on the telephone. ‘Right—that’s done, then. I’ve managed to get hold of Jed’s parents and his girlfriend, and they’re coming in now. I haven’t got any information yet on relatives of the two older men. They’re both concussed and one’s got a clean fracture of the right femur, but hopefully the police will dig something up.’

‘Is the driver OK?’ asked Jandy.

Karen pulled a face. ‘Multiple fractures and a ruptured spleen so far—he’s gone to Theatre. Looks like he’s going to pay a heavy penalty for racing like that in a built-up area.’

‘Pity he had to include the people hit by his car,’ commented Bob. ‘Have we time for a coffee? I’ll collapse if I don’t get some caffeine into my system.’

Jandy joined him in the little kitchen. ‘Give me a strong one too, Bob,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long day and we’re not halfway through it yet.’

She sat down and lifted her feet onto another chair with a small sigh of relief, taking the chance to take the weight off them, like most casualty nurses did. She put her head back and closed her eyes for a minute, feeling an edgy irritation with the day, caused in no small part by Patrick, trying to pinpoint just what it might be that had made him so remote and formal. Perhaps, she reflected tiredly, she had it all wrong and was imagining his cold attitude towards her. After all, she couldn’t expect the man to be all lovey-dovey with her in the hospital, for heaven’s sake. She was expecting too much after their intimate time together in Scotland. She took a refreshing sip of the scalding coffee that Bob handed to her and felt slightly better.

At that moment Patrick came into the room, and she was struck suddenly by how tired and drawn he looked. He seemed to have aged a few years since they’d been together the day before. His father must be very ill, and in her selfishness she’d forgotten that he had things on his mind. He hadn’t been deliberately rude to her—it was just that he was very worried.

She got up from the chair and poured him a cup of coffee.

‘Hi, Patrick,’ she said softly. ‘I’m so sorry you had to leave suddenly. How is your father—is it very bad?’

Patrick took the coffee from her and shook his head. ‘He’s OK really,’ he replied. For a second he looked at Jandy steadily, an unreadable expression in his eyes. ‘Something happened, though—something that meant I couldn’t stay any longer—but I don’t want to talk about it just now.’

He gave no more information and Jandy frowned. It must be a private matter that he wouldn’t want to discuss at work with everyone listening.

‘Well, perhaps you’d like to do something to cheer you up?’ she suggested brightly. ‘There’s a really good film on at the local cinema at the weekend. I could get a babysitter and we could have a meal after it perhaps. What do you say?’

She smiled at him, her beautiful eyes holding his. Inwardly Patrick groaned. He couldn’t handle this. She was so beautiful and he longed to take her in his arms and kiss her lips, feel again her soft body next to his…bury his head in her sweet-smelling, silky hair. Then he thought of what he had learned so brutally about her attitude to him since they’d made glorious love to each other only thirty-six hours ago. He hardened his heart and swallowed a large draught of coffee. He couldn’t allow himself to drift into a relationship again with someone whose regard for him was based on what she could get out of him. Both he and his precious Livy deserved more than that.

‘Sorry,’ he said tersely. ‘I can’t go out at the moment—a pretty full diary, I’m afraid.’

Jandy looked at him in surprise. ‘You can’t go out at all?’

His expression was cold, unreadable. ‘Not possible at the moment—too much on.’ He turned to Bob. ‘Bob, I’d like your opinion on the old man with the broken femur—he’s very shaky and I’m wondering if we’ve missed something.’

Bob nodded and they both went out discussing the old man’s condition. Jandy took a deep breath, hardly able to believe Patrick’s attitude towards her. What the hell was wrong—was it her? Had she been too demanding, too sure of herself, or was she just being hard on him? He looked different somehow—not the vibrant and energetic person he usually was. He probably needed a few days off from socialising and she was expecting too much from a man she knew was kind and considerate normally—after all, he’d come up to Scotland with her and been an enormous help and support. Perhaps when he’d finished work he’d get in touch with her. She shouldn’t have pressured him in front of everyone. But somewhere deep inside her she had the horrible feeling that Patrick was moving away from her again. If he really loved her, he wouldn’t have brushed her off like that. She gave a baffled sigh and went to answer the wall phone.

Patrick finished talking to Bob about the elderly patient and stood outside the small theatre for a second before he went to the locker room, watching Jandy walking back towards the main desk. He felt awful. He had wanted to make it plain to Jandy that they were no longer an item. In his bitter hurt at Jandy’s deception he wanted to hurt her too, and he hated himself for it. He had seen the expression in her eyes when he’d told her he was too busy to go out with her, and it had twisted a knife in his heart, because he could almost swear that she looked heartbroken and bewildered, as if she really had loved him. But looks were deceptive, he told himself bitterly. He’d heard from her own mouth that what attracted her was his wealth and position.

‘Damn it…damn her!’ he muttered, slamming the locker door shut with a vicious bang and walking briskly out of the room.

* * *

As Jandy drove home that night she felt the ghastly replay of confusion and despair she’d experienced when Terry had abandoned her. Perhaps there was something about her, she thought savagely, that made her into a victim where men were concerned. And yet she could swear that Patrick was nothing like Terry. Even when she’d imagined she’d loved Terry, in her heart of hearts she’d known that he was a selfish man, someone who liked to be the centre of attention—extremely attractive with a spurious charm but devious in many ways. She recalled how he would have no compunction in taking days off if he wanted to go somewhere glamorous, phoning his office to say he was ill but assuring her that he would be working twice as hard to make up for his absence. She hadn’t approved really, but when she’d been with him he’d had that charming knack of making her believe that he’d put himself out to be with her.

But Patrick was nothing like that. She’d worked closely with him, seen how dedicated, compassionate and kind he was. She couldn’t believe that he really was the sort to have a one-night stand with anyone and deliberately hurt them.

Tears of desolation ran down her face as she drove to pick up Abigail, but she brushed them away fiercely, furious with herself for being so weak. Patrick Sinclair had lied to her—and she was worth more than that. She certainly wasn’t going to spend years moping about any man again—life was too short to live wallowing in self-pity. She was glad, yes, glad that she’d found out about the rat now and not months later when she would probably have fallen for him hook, line and sinker. As it was, she was still in control of her feelings, wasn’t she?

Unconsciously she tilted her chin in determination: Patrick was only going to be at Delford General for a short time until Sue came back from maternity leave. She would grit her teeth and work with him whatever the atmosphere between them.

* * *

Monday morning again and everywhere looked just the same—staff bustling about, Danny Smith on Reception laughing loudly at a joke Max had told him, a paramedic whistling cheerily in the corridor. Of course life went on, reflected Jandy gloomily. Just because her weekend had been sad and lonely, it didn’t mean that the world outside mirrored her emotions.

‘You look pretty shattered, Jandy,’ remarked Bob. ‘Had a busy weekend?’

What you mean is that I look absolutely awful, which could be because I hardly slept at all, thought Jandy, but she answered with a bright smile, ‘Fairly busy. I’ve discovered moving house is very hard work and trying to box things up while an energetic four-year-old’s helping you can be a little frustrating.’

She was well aware that Patrick was very close to her, leafing through a medical journal, but she didn’t look at him. She wouldn’t let him get to her—she wouldn’t!

‘Shall I go and take the first on the list?’ she asked Bob. ‘Monday mornings mean hundreds of patients with hangovers from the weekend, and worse!’

She went to Reception and took the top card in the box from the pile of triaged patients.

‘Harry Leyton?’ she called out.

A large man wearing overalls and boots came forward, holding a dirty handkerchief over his finger.

‘Fine start to the day this is!’ he commented, sitting down in the cubicle that Jandy had taken him to. ‘I think I’ve taken off the top of my finger.’

‘Let me see,’ said Jandy, unwinding the material from his finger and blanching slightly when she saw that the finger had been cut through the nail bed to the bone. ‘How on earth did you do this?’

‘Pushing a bill through a letter box. The lid smacked down on my finger and I tried to pull my finger out. That was a mistake—it held my finger like a vice.’

Jandy grimaced in sympathy. ‘Not what you expect when you post a letter. Now, I’m going to wash it very, very gently—we’ve got to make sure it’s clean—and then I’m going to bind it up to stop it bleeding.’

‘What about stitching it? Won’t that make it heal quicker?’ the man asked.

‘There isn’t much skin there to stitch. I think it will just have to heal over by itself. It’ll probably take two or three weeks.’

Harry groaned. ‘I’m not going to be able to do much joinery with a hand like this, am I?’ He shook his large fleshy face gloomily. ‘Well, that’s ruined my day, I can tell you. How can I look after my family if I can’t work? I’ve got a big contract on as well with a building firm…’

‘I’m sorry, Harry,’ said Jandy as she cleaned and bandaged the injury. ‘It’s very bad luck—but it will heal if you don’t try and use it too much.’