Читать книгу Needed: Full-Time Father - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 6

HER very own parking space!

Pulling on the handbrake of her smart, practical and incredibly clean sedan, Madison Walsh took a moment out of her busy schedule to indulge herself, staring with quiet satisfaction at the writing on the wall.

RESERVED / ED NUM

OK, it didn’t say reserved for Madison Walsh, Nursing Unit Manager, Accident and Emergency Department, it didn’t even matter that a parking space was possibly the last thing a perpetually early-for-everything woman like Madison needed—but it was hers!

Another step in the right direction, another life goal achieved.

Locking her car, Madison waved as Gerard Dalton slid his dark blue car into his own reserved parking spot and waited politely as the elderly gentleman climbed out.

‘One day I’ll beat you to work!’ Gerard grinned. ‘You’re not due to start for another two hours, Madison.’

‘Neither are you,’ Madison pointed out, walking with Gerard through the dark car park, bypassing the darkened accident and emergency entrance and heading instead to the main reception area of the hospital.

‘I guess we both just want to have that one final check before it’s all systems go. Mind you,’ he added rather more lightly, ‘not before a good strong cup of coffee. Let’s hope the kitchen staff remembers that we’re here and delivers us some milk…’ His voice trailed off as Madison held up a carrier bag.

‘I stopped at the garage, just in case there wasn’t any.’

‘Of course you did,’ Gerard said with a wry note to his voice. ‘Who’s looking after that gorgeous daughter of yours while her mother’s out all hours?’

‘Emily’s fine.’ Madison laughed. ‘She’s having a sleepover at my friend Helen’s, so that I could be here early today.’

‘And she’s enjoying going to school?’

‘She loves it,’ Madison responded warmly, as they arrived outside the deserted reception area. She nodded her thanks as the security guard gave a thumbs-up and the doors slid open.

‘Morning, Vic!’

‘Morning, Professor, morning, Sister,’ Vic responded cheerfully. ‘All ready for the big day?’

‘I hope so,’ Madison said, rolling her eyes. ‘If we’re not, we’re about to find out the hard way.’

‘How could we not be ready?’ Gerard said assuredly as they walked along the highly polished corridor and into the vacant emergency unit. ‘We’ve been planning this day for months now.’

‘I know,’ Madison sighed, flicking on lights as she went, noticing how hard the domestic staff had been working in the last couple of days, every last trace of builders’ dust gone. The plastic wraps had been removed from the chairs in the waiting room, even the vending machines had been stocked up, but nothing could take away the scent of new paint and carpeting, and the pristine look of a hospital that had yet to see a patient. ‘At least that’s what I keep telling myself, but I’ve been awake every night for the past week, thinking of a million and one things that might go wrong.’

‘You worry too much,’ Gerard admonished, steering her away from the empty nurses’ station and into the staffroom. ‘You’re the most meticulous, organised person I know, Madison. That’s one of the reasons I insisted on having you as the NUM when they offered me the director’s role for the new accident and emergency department. Designing a hospital from scratch is a hard enough task, but without a well-run, functioning emergency department…’ He paused for a moment, kettle poised in mid-fill, and Madison noted he’d pulled out three mugs, which summed Gerard Dalton up in a heartbeat.

He’d be making a brew for Vic as well—porter or professor, it didn’t matter. If you were on Gerard’s team, you belonged.

‘You know this is one of the proudest days of my life.’

‘There’d be a lot of proud moments in a life like yours, Gerard,’ Madison said warmly, and if it sounded gushing she didn’t care. Gerard Dalton was quite simply the finest doctor and the most honourable man she had ever met. A devoted husband and father, he had somehow managed to squeeze in a career that would have anyone reeling. As well as being an esteemed emergency doctor, he was also a tireless AID worker for developing countries. The long list of letters after his name had been extremely well earned and, always thrilled to work alongside him, Madison had been honoured when he’d hand-picked her to join him in the daunting task of getting the accident and emergency department of the brand new Heatherton Hospital up and hopefully running successfully.

‘There have been a lot of proud moments,’ Gerard agreed. ‘But this is something really special. I don’t know how many times I’ve said in my career that if only things were different, if only we had the right equipment, if only someone had thought to put that here or this there…’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m waffling.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Madison said. ‘I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing—all this wonderful new equipment, consultations with the designers, hand-picking the staff, it’s going to be wonderful.’

‘If you like that sort of thing.’ Gerard smiled and Madison did, too. ‘You either love hospitals or you hate them, I guess. What time do you think the staff will start getting here?’

‘Well, no one’s actually due to start until seven, but everyone was so enthusiastic when they came for orientation, I’m sure they’ll start trickling in after six.’

‘And the department officially opens at nine?’ Gerard checked his paperwork and Madison smothered a smile—they’d been over and over the details a thousand times, but despite Gerard’s amazing ability to retain anything remotely medical, when it came to trivial matters such as clocks, budgets or even where he’d put down his glasses, he was the original absent-minded professor.

‘We open at nine for patients making their own way in, but we’re closed to ambulances until eleven a.m., which will give us a couple of hours to iron out any minor hiccups that might arise.’

‘Good idea,’ Gerard agreed.

‘It was your idea, Gerard,’ Madison said, not bothering to hide her smile this time.

‘So it was,’ Gerard said. ‘Right, it looks like all we need now is a patient.’

‘And a consultant,’ Madison added, instantly regretting the slight edge to her voice. Because she’d worked alongside Gerard for so many years now, naturally he picked up on it.

‘You’re going to like him, Madison. Guy Boyd is the finest doctor I’ve had the privilege to work with.’ Which, coming from Gerard, was high praise indeed, but still Madison remained hesitant.

‘I just wish I’d met him. From what you’ve described, he’s not exactly…’ Her voice trailed off, not wanting to be rude, not wanting to judge before she’d even laid eyes on the man, but Gerard spoke for her.

‘Guy’s a bit of a free spirit,’ Gerard said, and no doubt he meant well, but the description of the new consultant brought absolutely no comfort to Madison, the words ‘free spirit’ searing through her like dental pain as she gritted her teeth. ‘He just doesn’t like to be tied down in one place for too long.’

‘He doesn’t like responsibility, you mean?’ Madison responded. ‘Look, I’ll reserve judgement till I’ve met him, Gerard, but we’ve known each other long enough to be honest, and the truth of the matter is I’m not particularly keen on “free spirits” wandering around my department. I want fully grounded, on-the-ball, committed workers.’

‘I know,’ Gerard answered, smiling placidly at Madison’s frown. ‘And I know we’ve both been in on every interview, that we’ve both agreed on every member of the team, but in Guy’s case he simply couldn’t get here because he was overseas. When I emailed him about the new department I couldn’t believe my luck—our luck—when he said that he was keen to be a part of it.’

‘But he’s only prepared to commit to a six-month contract,’ Madison pointed out. ‘We’re aiming for continuity, Gerard, staff who will follow the vision…’

‘We are.’ Gerard nodded. ‘And if it was anyone else I’d have said no but, believe me, six months with Guy Boyd on board is too good to pass up. You’re just going to have to trust me, Madison.’

‘Which I do,’ Madison said, forcing a smile, determined to let nothing mar this day. ‘I’m probably overreacting. I’m sure that he’ll turn out to be great.’

‘Once you get used to him,’ Gerard added, and Madison wished he hadn’t! ‘Guy’s not exactly into hospital politics. He’s not exactly politically correct—very much his own man,’ Gerard explained, but seeing Madison’s tight expression hastily turned his back and spooned sugar into a mug. ‘I’d best take this out to Vic. I noticed the sign diverting patients has been taken down. We ought to put it back up until the department officially opens.’

‘Gerard, when you say he’s not into hospital politics…’ Madison didn’t even finish her sentence, her audience lost as Gerard headed off for an extended chat with Vic. Madison headed through the department towards the entrance, picking up the sign the cleaners must have taken down when they’d polished the doors. She pressed it back against the glass, and jumped as a looming shadow appeared out of the darkness.

‘We’re closed,’ Madison mouthed, pointing to the sign, but perhaps in the subdued light she couldn’t be seen. It was either a patient who needed help or a member of staff, so Madison tapped the window and gestured to Reception. ‘Go that way,’ she said, exaggerating the words to make herself understood, peering into the bleak ambulance bay.

He didn’t look like a patient. Certainly, from his relaxed stance he wasn’t in any pain, although admittedly all she could really see was a white T-shirt. But there wasn’t any urgency in his actions.

‘Problem?’ Gerard asked, coming behind her and flicking on the light, which reduced Madison’s visibility to zero.

‘Either an eager patient or a keen member of staff.’

‘We can deal with both.’ Gerard gave a half laugh and, cupping his hands, pressed them against the window.

‘Why, it’s Guy!’ The delight in his voice forced Madison’s attention and she watched as Gerard fiddled with the door. ‘Can’t we open it?’

‘Not without Security,’ Madison answered, resisting the urge to cup her own hands against the glass and have a good look at the new, politically incorrect consultant, but curiosity got the better of her and, cupping her own hand against the glass, she peered out into the pre-dawn darkness. Her eyes squinted to focus then she stepped back as a smiling, utterly laid-back face greeted hers. Inexplicably she felt as if he was way, way too close to her, his presence definitely felt even though he was safely on the other side of a thick glass door. In that split second a shooting flame of something she couldn’t quite define rippled through her—and had Madison pulling away rapidly, catching her breath as if she’d been stung.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Fine,’ Madison answered briskly. ‘He’ll have to walk round to Reception. We should go and meet him…’ She headed off, expecting Gerard to follow her. After all, despite her own misgivings about his employment, it was the new consultant that was arriving and he deserved to be greeted. But as she walked back through the sterile waiting room it took a moment to realise she was walking alone.

‘Gerard?’ Turning with a smile, Madison stared back to where she’d just come from and froze. She stood fixed to the spot. Vaguely aware of the coffee from her cup splashing onto the new blue carpet, followed in a split second by the sound of the cheap, china mug thudding to the ground, the world moved in slow motion for a moment. A tiny, useless croak came from her throat and then she was running, running towards her boss, her friend, her confidant, running as fast as her legs would carry her, as Gerard slowly slid down the length of the glass door, his face in the fluorescent light a hideous purple. Then the world was speeding up again, seemingly stuck on fast-forward, and Madison begged it to slow back down as she reached her boss, broke his leaden fall a touch and lowered Gerard to the floor.

Madison crouched on her knees, willing herself to hold it together, drawing on her professionalism, almost reading off the chart that was tattooed in her mind, through the ABC—airway, breathing, circulation—trying, trying to treat him as a patient, desperate to give back to this amazing, talented man some of what he’d so readily delivered to others in the course of his career.

‘It’s OK, Gerard,’ Madison soothed him, her voice amazingly assured. She checked his airway, watching, praying to see the rise and fall of his chest as her fingers desperately fought to locate a pulse in his neck.

‘Gerard.’ Her voice was sharper now, tears muffling her words as she called out his name, but even as she pinched his nose, tried to keep her breathing even enough to drag in some air to exhale, clamped trembling fingers into position over his chest, Madison knew he had gone, knew in that moment the vital, eloquent, disarming man had already gone for ever.

But that knowledge didn’t stop her from trying to bring him back to them all—to his family that needed him, to his friends and colleagues that adored him, to the department he had created from the first blueprint.

Barely looking up as footsteps thudded towards her, she noted with relief that the new consultant had picked up vital emergency equipment on his way—an ambubag to reinflate Gerard’s lungs and a mini oxygen cylinder, even the red bag that contained a self-administering defibrillator. She moved aside as the man she’d briefly glimpsed ripped open the packages, connected the tubing and took over Gerard’s airway with an ambu-bag. She concentrated instead on cardiac compressions as Vic arrived, shouting into his walkie-talkie for assistance, dragged an oxygen cylinder over and connected it to the bag Guy was squeezing.

‘What happened?’ Guy’s voice was deep but urgent—no introduction, no niceties, because there was nothing nice about this.

‘You saw what happened,’ Madison answered, leaning in as she pummelled Gerard’s chest. ‘He just collapsed.’

‘Did he complain of chest pain?’

‘No.’

‘Headache, dizziness, shortness of breath?’

‘Nothing!’ She almost shouted it. ‘I thought he was walking behind me.’

‘Is there anything else I can do?’ It was Vic speaking now, Vic desperate to help, to do something, anything. ‘I let Switchboard know on my walkie-talkie as I was running over. The nursing supervisor was just pulling up in the car park when it happened, they’re going to send for her.’

‘We need to get him to Resus—get a trolley,’ Guy shouted, but Vic was already picking up Gerard’s shoulders, and Guy assisted him, somehow carrying the leaden weight. Madison raced ahead, turning on machines that had so far only been used in practice runs, completely unable to comprehend that the patient they’d so eagerly anticipated, had so long awaited, had trained and practiced for, had, in fact, turned out to be Gerard himself.

As Madison ripped open chest pads, Guy tore at Gerard’s suit then picked up the chest paddles and placed them over Gerard’s chest to give a reading of his heart rate.

‘Asystole,’ Madison said, seeing the flat line appear on the monitor. She plugged in the ambu-bag to the walled oxygen and commenced the breathing for Gerard, but Guy shook his head.

‘It could be fine VF,’ he said, hoping that the reading that was showing on the monitor wasn’t a true one—asystole was the worse kind of cardiac arrest, but there was a chance, a tiny one, that his heart was fibrillating and that the reading was so fine the machine couldn’t pick it up, a tiny chance that he had a type of cardiac arrhythmia that could be reverted and Madison stood back as Guy gave Gerard the benefit of the doubt and delivered a shock to his lifeless body.

‘Still asystole.’ Guy’s voice was hoarse. ‘Keep up the massage.’ They needed more hands, needed help here now, and thankfully it arrived. Shirley, the nursing supervisor, racing into Resus, her expression appalled when she took in the scene.

‘Bag him, Shirley,’ Madison ordered, clipping a tourniquet to Gerard’s flaccid arm and getting IV access as Guy continued to pound Guy’s chest. ‘Vic, call for an ambulance, tell them we need the MICA.’

‘MICA?’ Vic gave a panicked, bewildered shake of his head.

‘The mobile intensive care unit, Switch will understand. Tell them to say that our doctor has had a cardiac arrest and we need him to be transferred, we need an ICU bed…’ Madison was pulling up the standard drugs used during a cardiac arrest and handing them to Guy, before he even had to name them. She winced as he shocked Gerard again, the horrible, singed smell filling the sterile room. She felt the indignity of seeing the immaculate Gerard with his chest bared, his tie cut and pushed to the side. But as was so much the man, a handkerchief still peeped out of his suit pocket—a poignant reminder of the immaculate man they were trying to save.

‘Look, I don’t know if it means anything,’ Vic spoke, his voice shaky, unsure of his reception, but Guy was open to any suggestion and nodded urgently for Vic to go on. ‘He said something about a sore back last night when he went home.’

‘He could have a ruptured aortic aneurysm,’ Guy said, referring to a dire surgical emergency where the main artery of the body ruptured.

‘He strained his back, moving a box with me, last night,’ Madison said, shaking her head. ‘I was there, Guy. It was a simple strain, I saw it happen myself…’

‘Open a thoracotomy tray,’ Guy called, and almost on autopilot Madison went to retrieve one. She set it up to open Gerard’s chest, to rip through his sternum so that Guy could visualise the heart, massage it with his hands, clamp the aorta, tie off a bleed or remove a clot, do something, anything, that might prolong this wonderful life. But all Madison knew was that Gerard wouldn’t have wanted it.

‘We did everything we could.’

She’d heard it said so many times, had used the sentence herself on many, many occasions, but maybe for the first time Madison knew exactly what it meant. That sometimes to do everything you actually had to be brave and do nothing—because nothing modern medicine had to offer was going to help now. Despite heroics, despite best effort, nothing could make a difference for Gerard—certainly not ripping open his chest with a saw.

‘He’s gone.’ She couldn’t believe she was saying it, yet she knew that it was true. Knew that going on even a moment longer was an indignity, that Professor Gerard Dalton had gone and nothing was going to bring him back.

‘He might have…’ For a second Guy wavered, torn between hope and truth, and for the first time Madison actually looked at him, took in the man she’d never formally met but who seemed somehow to understand the atrocity of what had taken place. Dark blond hair flopped over his forehead, the same raw anguish she had first witnessed when he had knelt down beside Gerard’s lifeless body in the entrance hall more visible now. His hazel eyes stared first at her then down at his patient, his tall, muscular body slumped in resignation, the rhythmic massage stilling. But his fingers were still knotted together over Gerard’s chest as he stared at the monitor.

‘There’s no history?’ he checked. ‘Any pre-existing—?’

‘He’s a workaholic,’ Madison whispered. ‘That’s all I know.’

And the agony she had briefly witnessed was smothered now as Guy reverted to the practical, drew on his professionalism. He flicked on his torch, tested Gerard’s pupil response, pulled out his stethoscope and listened for any indication of life, shaking his head as the paramedics rushed in pumped for action, ready to assist. They visibly deflated as they realised who the patient was—anyone who had been in Emergency for any length of time knew and respected Gerard Dalton.

‘Time of death.’ Guy Boyd’s voice was hollow, a muscle flickering in his taut cheek as he glance up at the clock. ‘Five thirty-two a.m.’

And Madison did what was needed but no more—she closed Gerard’s eyes on a world he had left too soon, pulled a sheet up over his body but not over his face, then walked out of the area, dragging in air that seemed stale, nausea seeping into every pore, nerves jumping as Guy Boyd came up behind her.

‘What happened? Before I arrived, I mean.’

‘You saw what happened,’ Madison choked. ‘One minute we were talking, looking forward to today and the next…’ She took a deep breath, swallowing rising hysteria. ‘His wife, I’ll have to—’

‘I’ll do it,’ Guy broke in, but Madison shook her head.

‘She deserves more than a phone call.’

‘I’ll go over to her home now.’ He gave a hesitant nod, then midway it changed and he nodded more firmly. ‘The hospital doesn’t officially open for a few hours yet. I’ll go and fetch her.’

‘But Yvonne should hear it from someone who knows her…’ Tears were starting, emotion was creeping in, but Madison choked it all back, appalled at the prospect of breaking down, terrified that if she started to cry she’d never stop, painfully aware that staff would be arriving soon.

‘I know Yvonne,’ Guy said, his hand reaching out and capturing her shoulder, squeezing it. Madison couldn’t be sure if he was giving support or taking it. ‘I’ll tell her what’s happened face to face—it’s better that way. No doubt she’ll want to come straight over to the hospital, she’ll need to see for herself…Are you OK?’ His voice changed from pensive to worried, his hand tightened on her shoulder, but more in an attempt to hold her up. ‘Sister…?’

‘Madison,’ she filled in, running a tongue over horribly dry lips. A scream built in her throat but she swallowed it back, balled her fists, struggled to keep it all in check as blindly Guy continued.

‘Madison Walsh,’ Guy responded, obviously having recognised her name. ‘Gerard speaks very highly of you.’ A flash of pain flickered across his face and mercifully he didn’t correct himself, didn’t relegate Gerard to the past tense while he was still warm in the room nearby. Instead, Guy gulped in air, raked a hand through his hair and then nodded as if to right himself.

‘I’ll go and tell Yvonne now. This is going to have to go to the coroner, so don’t remove any equipment from the…’ He gave a tiny swallow before continuing. ‘Just make him look as presentable as you can.’

‘Of course I will,’ Madison snapped, not sure where her anger was coming from, not sure at all how she was actually feeling, but relieved to let a little bit of emotion out. ‘As if I need to be told how to prepare a patient.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said. ‘I wasn’t implying…’ His voice trailed off and Madison stood there trying to take it all in, trying to fathom how somehow in a matter of minutes everything, everything, had changed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and Madison knew he wasn’t apologising for his words this time but for the terrible loss that had been suffered.

‘Me, too,’ Madison whispered, wondering how she was going to do this, how she was going to tell the staff. Face Yvonne. Her mind grasped for some comfort, for strength to see her through just the next moment at least. She found it from an unlikely source. Guy Boyd’s hand reached for her shoulder, gripping it tightly for a moment in a tender show of support.

‘We’ll get through this, the department is going to get through this.’

But Madison knew that, knew the team she and Gerard had created, the procedures that had long since been put in place, were enough to withstand even a blow such as this. Her grief was on a much more personal level and when she didn’t respond, Guy seemed to sense why.

‘He was more than just a boss to you, wasn’t he?’

‘Much more,’ Madison agreed, and perhaps it was the emotion of the moment, a need to voice what was on her mind. Whatever the reason, she found herself opening up in a way she hadn’t in the longest time, and even though there were endless things to be addressed, endless problems to face, the two of them took a small slice of time to share in some memories before they faced the unenviable tasks ahead. ‘He delivered my daughter.’

‘Don’t tell me you delivered the baby at work!’ Guy teased, but his voice was tinged with something he couldn’t identify—regret, confusion, he didn’t know. It was hard to believe that this brittle, almost hostile woman should have a softer side, that behind the starched uniform and withering stare beat the infinitely gentler dimensions of a woman.

‘Not quite.’ A tiny smile wobbled on her lips as she recalled the memory. ‘We needed the money so I worked far into my pregnancy. I was thirty-five weeks pregnant and thought I had a bit of back pain. I tried not to let anyone see, but Gerard, being Gerard, picked up on it straight away. He wanted me to go to Maternity but I insisted on going home first. Being the gentleman he was, he offered to drive me home.’

‘You didn’t have it in his car!’

Looking up, she saw that hazel eyes were somehow, despite what had happened, smiling.

‘No, but I found out what those little handrails above windows are for.’ His quizzical frown told Madison that clearly Guy didn’t have a clue—no doubt, he thought that they’d merely been provided to hang his dry cleaning from. ‘Suddenly I was holding onto the handles, gripping for dear life and wanting to push! Gerard was great. He executed a U-turn in the middle of the road and drove me to Maternity. We made it with seconds to spare.’ Like a balloon bursting, the blissful warmth of the memory dispersed and cold reality settled in. ‘He was there for me during good times and bad, there for me when my life fell apart…’ She checked herself, appalled at admitting so much to a stranger, consoling herself that grief did the strangest things to even the most sensible people. Pressing her fingers into her eyes, Madison halted herself and drew on some extremely well-used inner reserve as Guy watched.

He watched and tried to fathom this woman falling apart—stared down at the very straight brown hair pulled sharply back, the minimal but carefully applied make-up, the crisply ironed burgundy blouse that told everyone she was a senior member of staff, her very neat navy skirt sitting just on the knee and above even neater navy stockinged legs. He wondered what scale she measured herself on because from where he was standing, the closest a woman like Madison Walsh would come to falling apart was a run in her stockings. And no doubt she’s have a replacement pair in her bag, and a couple in her office drawer, too, come to that.

‘I can’t somehow imagine your life falling apart,’ he murmured, and Madison let out a hollow laugh.

‘Believe me, it did, and through it all Gerard was there.’ Feeling horribly self-indulgent, she shot a shy look at Guy. ‘From what Gerard told me, you know each other pretty well.’

‘Not well enough, unfortunately,’ Guy said softly, and there was something in his voice she couldn’t interpret, a pain that however well hidden seemed incredibly raw. ‘I was hoping to put that right, though. I was really looking forward to working alongside him. I’ll go and tell Yvonne,’ Guy said wearily, and headed off to perform the hardest task of the entire morning.