CHAPTER ONE

      PULLING off her ID tag and stethoscope, Meg threw them into her locker and, as the changing room was empty, expended some of her frustration by slamming the door shut, then, for good measure, slammed it hard once again.

      It didn’t help.

      She hadn’t really expected it too.

      ‘Morning, Meg.’ Jess ran in and without pausing for breath started to undress at lightning speed. ‘This is the first time in more than thirty years of nursing I’ve been late. Can you believe it?’

      Had it been anyone else Meg wouldn’t have believed it, but coming from Jess it was probably true. Trained in the days of starched uniforms and matrons, Jess ruled her world by the little silver fob watch neatly pinned to her crisp white blouse.

      ‘Was that Carla the student nurse I saw leaving here in tears?’

      Meg nodded but didn’t elaborate—a move she knew would infuriate Jess, who liked to keep her finger on everyone’s pulse.

      ‘I thought she was doing really well; at least she has been on days.’ Jess’s Irish accent was as strong and sharp as Meg’s own mother’s. Maybe that was the reason Meg’s defences seemed to go on high alert whenever Jess approached; she always felt as if she were about to be scolded. ‘So, what did you have to tell her off about?’ Jess wasn’t being nosey—well, maybe a bit—but as they were both Associate Charge Nurses, any problems with the staff had to be discussed.

      ‘I wasn’t telling her off.’ Meg had pulled on her shorts and T-shirt and was now concentrating on combing the long dark curls, that had been clipped up all night, into some sort of shape before tying her hair loosely into a ponytail. ‘She was just upset about a patient we had in last night.’

      ‘Oh, were you busy?’

      ‘No, we were actually quiet for once, which was just as well.’ Meg paused before continuing, taking out her scrunchy and combing her hair again before adding, ‘We lost a child last night.’

      Jess stopped filling her pockets with scissors, forceps and the other paraphernalia that Emergency nurses seemed to magic up at appropriate moments and stood still for a moment. ‘How old?’

      ‘Two.’ This was where most nurses would have gone into detail. Sat on the bench and told their colleague about the little kid who had been in the bath with no one watching him. The tiny lifeless bundle the paramedics had run in with. The prolonged resuscitation that everyone had known was useless, but no one had wanted to be the one to call. The agony of talking to the parents. The utter desolation at such a senseless waste of a promising young life.

      But not Meg.

      Meg finished her hair and turned around. ‘I’m the peer support person for Emergency so I thought I ought to go over it with her. She’s still pretty upset; it was her first death,’ Meg added.

      ‘Poor Carla.’ Jess took a deep breath. ‘Sure, your first death’s bad enough when it’s a ninety-year-old, but to have a child… Would you like me to have a quiet word with her?’ Jess’s intentions were well meant, but Meg shook her head.

      ‘She’s off for a couple of days—the break will be good for her. But I might get her phone number and give her a ring—see if she wants to catch up for a coffee and go over anything again.’

      ‘What about you, Meg?’ Jess’s voice was wary; she was unsure of the reaction she might get. ‘Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I know you’re the peer support person, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to go over things.’ She waited for a response but Meg just stood there. ‘If you’re upset….’

      ‘I’m fine; this sort of thing comes with the territory. It was hard on Carla because she hadn’t witnessed anything like it before; I’m used to it.’

      ‘I know. It’s just—’ Jess swallowed hard ‘—this sort of thing affects us all, and if you do need to talk I’m here for you.’

      Meg gave a dismissive smile. ‘I’m fine, Jess. Honestly.’

      To be fair, Jess might be a little irritating, might be a drama queen, but Meg knew she meant well, and had they been sitting in the staff room with a cup of coffee, then maybe she would have opened up a bit. But that was the problem with debriefing, with peer support or trauma counselling, or whatever new name Admin dreamed up for it: sometimes emotions couldn’t just be switched on. Jess—busy, rushing to start her shift—together