and his pupil who had both been caught out by the black ice and had suffered minor whiplash injuries, sliding into the kerb. In between were all manner of walking wounded—what Matt called ‘street and treat’ cases.
‘They walk in off the street, you treat them and send them back out again—hence the term.’
Some of the ones who walked in didn’t walk out again, of course. One young man had been driving a tractor with a flail on it, cutting the hedge, and it had tangled in a wire fence. He felt a little stinging cut near his hipbone but ignored it, carried on and finished the hedge.
‘I just felt a bit strange at lunchtime and I can feel a little sharp lump—I thought I might have a splinter from the hedge,’ he told Sarah.
‘Hmm. Can you hang on? I’ll just get someone to look at that,’ she told him, and went to find Matt who was just finishing up with the whiplashed driving instructor. ‘Could you check a patient for me? It doesn’t look much but his blood pressure’s a bit low and he looks pretty rough—you know how you just feel something’s missing in the history?’
Only too well. What do you know?’
She filled him in, and he went into the cubicle and took a quick look at the ‘splinter’. ‘Right,’ he said calmly. ‘I think we need an X-ray to check this out. Just stay there, I’ll get them to come to you.’
The mobile X-ray machine was there in seconds, and within a very few minutes they had their answer—a piece of wire from the old fence had penetrated his abdomen and by a miracle had missed all but the smallest vessels.
‘He needs the OR,’ Matt said quietly. ‘Who do I need to speak to?’
Oliver Henderson’s on take today—I’ll get his registrar down.’
‘I would go for the big guns,’ he murmured. ‘I just have a feeling.’
It turned out he was right. They heard later that the end of the wire had penetrated the man’s aorta, and when they pulled it out he had a massive bleed and needed stitches and a little Goretex patch.
‘He was dead lucky there,’ Matt said. ‘If he’d moved around a lot or changed his clothes or eaten anything much that might have been the end of him.’
‘Good job he didn’t try and pull it out,’ Sarah said with a shudder.
They were in Resus, preparing it for an emergency on the way in, and as she spoke they heard the sirens wail.
‘Hello, we’re on again,’ he murmured.
It might have been difficult, working with a total stranger from another—albeit very similar—country, but for some reason it wasn’t. Sarah knew what he was going to ask for, and by and large anticipated it anyway. By the end of that first day they were working in tune, both full of respect and admiration for the other, and well on their way to forming a team.
They were also late, and Matt was concerned about his daughter, so with a grin and a wave he left the department, striding briskly down the corridor, palming the doors out of his way and vanishing.
Sarah was thoughtful. It had been a long time since she’d been so in tune with anyone, if ever. It had been a joy and a privilege to work with Matt, and in between the trauma his wit had coincided with hers.
Ryan found her in the locker room, staring into space.
‘Sarah?’
She turned and gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, Ryan, did you say something?’
He shook his head. ‘Nice guy.’
‘Matt? Mmm. Knows his stuff.’
‘He’s very highly qualified. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll learn from us, but it will be interesting having him in the department—very interesting.’ He shot her a searching look, and then snagged his jacket from his locker.
‘I’d better go—Ginny invited him round for supper tonight with Emily and I think I have to go home via a supermarket—I had a shopping list put in my hand this morning as I left home because she doesn’t get home from Norwich until six-thirty.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Don’t suppose you want to join us?’
‘What—and help you start the meal?’
He grinned. ‘Rumbled. So, do you?’
‘Want to join you?’ She hesitated. It would be nice, and she had nothing else to do tonight and precious little food. Besides, Matt would be there… ‘Thanks, Ryan, I will—if you’re sure Ginny won’t mind the extra mouth to feed.’
He chuckled. ‘When has she ever minded feeding you? It’s hardly the first time—and, anyway, you can help, like you said.’
She gave a wry grin and watched him go. ‘Six OK?’ she called after him.
‘Wonderful. You can bath the kids.’
She closed her eyes, suddenly tired. Why had she agreed to it?
Because Matt was going to be there.
She felt a shiver of anticipation, and suppressed it. Matt was a colleague—nothing more, nothing less. Just a colleague.
So they shared a zany sense of humour.
Colleague, she said to herself. Colleague, colleague, colleague.
And, anyway, she wasn’t interested in men…
SPENDING time with Ryan and his children was a refined form of torture. It was, however, a torture Sarah subjected herself to regularly, and Ryan and Ginny seemed to accept her without question. Ryan, of course, knew about Rob and the children, at least in outline, and he knew her well enough to know that his children were safe with her.
How safe she was with them was another question entirely.
She heard the front door open and shut, and Matt’s voice filtered up the stairs and into the bathroom. She pulled out the plug and reached for a towel.
‘Come on, kids, time to get out and say hello to Emily. Where are your pyjamas?’
Evie, of course, knew where hers were. Gus, of course, didn’t have a clue and they had to play hunt the PJs for five minutes in, on and around his bed. The bottoms emerged easily enough from the chaos, but the top was more determined. She ended up lying across the bed, head down, fishing underneath it amongst the clutter he’d hidden there. Finally, though, she located the top.
‘Eureka!’ Sarah cried and came up victorious, clutching the pyjamas in her hand, her hair dishevelled and on end, to find Matt standing in the doorway with an enigmatic expression on his face. In front of him, wide-eyed and silent, was a little girl with dark hair and huge grey eyes, regarding her steadily as if she were quite mad.
‘He lost his pyjamas,’ she explained a little lamely, shovelling her hair off her face with one hand and scooting across the bed. ‘Gus, here you go, put the top on, please.’ She struggled to her feet, straightened her sweatshirt and tried to find a smile.
‘You must be Emily,’ Sarah said to the child, and she nodded soberly. Gosh, what gorgeous eyes. Like Matt’s. ‘So, how was school?’ she asked her.
For a moment she said nothing, then she sat down next to Gus and sorted out his pyjamas. ‘OK, I guess. Mrs Bright’s nice. I like her name and she’s funny. No, Gus, you put your head through this hole here.’
Sarah hid a smile. Why was it that girls always seemed to end up mothering boys? Even older boys. If things had been different—
She straightened, the urge to smile gone. ‘I need to go and help Ryan in the kitchen. Ginny will be home soon and she won’t want to have to cook after her long drive.’
‘She’s