and he was so tired he could hardly answer the paper. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t find the words, and he caught the train home kicking himself because it was all such a phenomenal waste of time. He’d have to resit it, he knew that, because he’d screwed up so badly on a couple of the questions, but in the meantime his marriage was on the rocks and he’d resorted to lying to his children.
And it looked as if it had all been for nothing.
CHAPTER THREE
THEY were due back from her parents’ at lunchtime on Sunday. He was working until three, having swapped Friday with James, and then he was going home to see the children and hopefully talk to Lucy.
He had Monday off, and he’d thought they could spend the day together while the children were at school, but she was starting work at the practice that morning, apparently, so it was tonight or who knew when.
But first he had to get through the day, and it was another of those days. Cold, windy and as unpromising outside as it was in the department, and he was too tired to deal with it all.
Amongst the sports injuries and nose bleeds and dog bites was the inevitable night owl who’d sobered up and realised she’d hurt herself after falling off that table last night, and another who’d fallen down the stairs of a nightclub and fractured her skull and had only realised something was wrong this morning when she couldn’t see straight.
They tried his patience, but it wasn’t really their fault. He knew that, and it wasn’t only them. There were the people who’d lain suffering all night and finally come in when the pain had become impossible to ignore. One was a query heart attack, another had an agonising kidney stone. He shunted them off to the appropriate departments, and then a gust of wind brought a tree down on a car, and an elderly woman with head injuries was brought in.
‘Jean Darby, front seat passenger,’ he was told. ‘GCS thirteen at the scene, now ten, she’s had oxygen and tramadol.’
‘Is the driver on his way in?’ he asked, trying not to worry about Lucy and the children out on the road in this weather, but the paramedic shook his head, his face filling in the details and ratcheting up the apprehension Andy was feeling.
He frowned and picked up her left hand. There were three rings on it—a wedding ring, an engagement ring and an eternity ring.
He stared at it. He still hadn’t got Lucy the eternity ring he’d promised her when she was pregnant with Emily. Three babies later, she still didn’t have it. Another item on that blasted list of ways in which he’d failed her. Failed all of them.
He put his family out of his mind and focused on the patient who’d very likely just lost her husband of many years. For now, she needed him. His family would be fine. They’d be home by now, and he’d see them later. Unlike this poor woman, who would never see her husband again, and might never see her family.
He knew how that would feel for them. He’d lost both his parents together in an accident, only a few years ago, and he’d felt reamed out inside.
He stroked her hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
‘Hello, Jean. Can you hear me? You’re in Yoxburgh Park Hospital. You’ve had an accident in the car.’
‘Dennis,’ she mumbled. ‘Where’s my husband? I need Dennis. Please find him …’
Her words were slurring worryingly. It might have been the drugs, but he didn’t think so. She wasn’t really responding, and he whipped out his pen light and shone it in her eyes. Sluggish pupils. Not good. His hand shook and he put the pen light back in his pocket.
‘OK, Jean, just try and rest, he’s in good hands. Will somebody contact CT and X-ray, please? We need a scan and a full head and neck series. And bloods. We’ll need group and save, and—’
He stumbled, the familiar list eluding him, and he just waved a hand. ‘Do a full set of bloods—all the usuals. And five minute obs, and get Neuro down here, Kazia. And someone contact the family, please. They need to be here now.’
Leaving the SHO in charge, he walked out, needing a break, a change of air—something. He had pins and needles in his hand now, and flashing lights.
A migraine? He’d had a few recently, although he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Nothing major, just a bit of tingling for a few minutes. Painkillers, he thought, and went to find the sister in charge.
‘Got a migraine. Any pills you can give me?’
‘Sure. We’ll have to write them up. What do you want?’
He tried to think of the drug names, and couldn’t. ‘Something strong,’ he mumbled, and took them from her hand, his fingers shaking.
‘Andy, are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. Just tired and I’ve got a headache. I had that exam on Friday—I’ve been overdoing it.’
She looked at him sceptically, and he tried to smile, but it was all too much effort, so the moment he’d swallowed the pills he turned on his heel and walked back to Resus to see the woman.
Joan? Jane? He picked up the notes.
‘Jean. How are you feeling?’ he asked, but she didn’t answer.
‘I think she’s got a bleed,’ Kazia said softly, and he nodded.
‘Um—Neuro on the way?’
‘I’m here,’ a familiar voice said from behind him, and he sighed with relief. He didn’t need to deal with a junior, and nor did Jean.
‘Raj, hi. Um—this is Jean—er—Darby—Kazia, would you fill us in?’
‘Sure,’ the SHO said, shooting him a strange look and taking over. He didn’t mind. The words were escaping him, slithering away into the corners, hiding in the dark.
He propped himself against the Resus trolley and watched and listened as Raj ran through a quick neurological screen and then nodded.
‘She needs to go to Theatre, but it’s not looking good.’
It wasn’t. In fact, it was considerably less than good, and that moment her pupils blew and she arrested. They worked on her, Andy doing chest compressions, Raj checking her pulse and haunting the monitor, but the odds were stacked hugely against her anyway, and after a few unsuccessful minutes Raj put his hands over Andy’s and stopped him.
‘This is pointless. She’s gone, Andy.’
Damn. He straightened up and looked around, knowing he was right but gutted nonetheless. ‘All agreed?’ he asked, and everyone nodded.
He stared at the clock for an age, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. ‘Time of death twelve thirty two,’ he said after a long pause, and he stripped off his gloves, threw them in the bin and turned to the neurologist.
‘Thanks, Raj. Sorry—waste of your time,’ he said, his voice hitching slightly as if they were reluctant to come out, and Raj frowned and tipped his head on one side, searching his eyes.
‘No problem. Got a minute?’
‘Yeah, sure. Are the family here yet?’
‘They’re on their way.’
‘OK. Find me when they’re here. I want to see them.’
‘Andy, now,’ Raj said softly, and taking his elbow he steered him out of Resus, and then stopped in a quiet bit of the corridor. ‘OK, what’s going on? You’re not yourself.’
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