A Marriage Meant To Be. Josie Metcalfe
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do, Stephanie,’ he said with a broad smile, generously taking the hint without an argument. ‘So you just settle yourself back and enjoy the ride in our luxury limousine.’
‘Limousine!’ she scoffed with a dismissing glance around the functional interior. ‘Where’s the plush carpeting and the mini-bar?’
‘Hey, don’t knock it,’ Mike protested. ‘I cleaned that floor myself, just before we came out to get you, and we’ve got lots of things in here that you don’t get in a mini-bar—such as oxygen on tap.’ He gently adjusted the mask over her face as he teased her and Callie could already see some of Steph’s tension easing.
Her own anxiety had reduced the moment she’d seen how competent the ambulance crew was. Now she just needed to be certain that neither her young travelling companion nor her unborn baby had suffered any hidden injuries and she could go on her way.
Except she couldn’t really do that with a clear conscience, knowing that Steph was now without any funds whatever. Yes, she would have a free bed for the night, tonight, but after that? What resources were there for underage pregnant girls in this city? Were there any hostels or refuges? The ideal situation would be a purpose-built home where she could stay while she waited out the rest of her pregnancy, preferably with counsellors available to tell her about the options available to help her to decide whether to keep her baby or give it up for adoption.
Perhaps she would be able to find out that sort of information while she waited for the A and E staff to check Steph over. She spared a longing thought for St Mark’s, where such local gems had been collated onto the hospital database so that it would be readily to hand. Unfortunately, neither she nor Stephanie would be going back to that area again, at least not for the foreseeable future.
‘Right, ladies, hold tight and we’ll be on our way,’ the driver called as he started the powerful engine.
Callie sat herself out of the way and put her rucksack on her lap, wrapping both arms around it as she watched the paramedic check Steph’s vital signs again and note his findings on the case notes he’d started.
‘Just a few questions, Stephanie. The usual things, all right?’ he said with pen poised. ‘I need your name, address, date of birth and the name of your next of kin so we can notify them where we’ve taken you.’
Callie saw the youngster’s tension return full force.
‘My name’s Stephanie…Smith and I’m fifteen,’ she said tersely.
‘And?’ Mike encouraged, even though it was obvious she’d given a false surname.
‘And I’ve got no address and no family to notify,’ she said with a stubborn expression on her face that told Callie it would be useless to try to push her any further. The paramedic threw her a concerned glance over Steph’s head but he obviously thought the same thing if his resigned sigh was anything to go by.
‘Stephanie, that can cause problems for us,’ he said gently.
‘Why should it? I can take care of myself,’ she said belligerently.
‘You probably can,’ he agreed, ‘but according to the law, if you’re under sixteen we have to have the permission of a parent or guardian to treat you.’
‘That’s easy, then. Just stop the ambulance and I’ll get out, then you won’t have to worry about getting sued.’
‘Steph, sweetheart…’ Callie began, not really knowing what to say. She’d often had to start treating youngsters before she could get parental consent—a victim of a car crash or a child in status asthmaticus couldn’t wait for paperwork. Hopefully, Steph’s condition wasn’t life-threatening, but if it were…from the little that the youngster had told her on the coach, she was feeling too bitter at the moment to be willing to contact her family, and without a surname there was no way of tracking them down behind her back.
But if the alternative was watching a fifteen-year-old with a potential head injury disappear onto the streets without a penny to her name…
She unzipped a pocket on her rucksack and fished out the purse buried deep inside, out of the way of light-fingered passers-by.
‘Here. Will this help with the paperwork?’ she asked as she offered her hospital ID card.
She saw Mike’s eyebrows shoot up when he read it and was uncomfortably aware that in her jeans and jumper she didn’t look much like the professional photo he was looking at. But apart from that speculative look in her direction he confined himself to copying the relevant information on Steph’s form.
‘A and E,’ their driver announced cheerfully, although Callie would have bet that he’d been listening to every word going on in the back and would be grilling Mike later.
‘We hope you enjoyed your journey,’ he said as he opened the double doors at the back of the vehicle, sounding just like a holiday tour guide, ‘but sincerely hope you won’t be travelling with us again.’
‘Tony, you idiot,’ scolded one of the nursing staff waiting to receive them. ‘What have you brought for us this time?’
‘Two lovely ladies,’ he announced cheerfully, as he and Mike flipped the lock to release the wheels and slid the trolley smoothly out onto the apron and through the doors of the emergency department with Callie in their wake.
‘This is Stephanie,’ Mike said as soon as his hands were free to consult his clipboard. ‘She’s fifteen years old and approximately twenty-eight weeks gestational. She was mugged and fell, hitting her head on the pavement. Brief loss of consciousness but her obs are now all within normal ranges with pupils equal and reactive. No obvious breaks but the start of a lovely big egg on the back of her head.’
‘Are you her mother?’ the young nurse demanded, and Callie was so taken aback by the unexpected question that she hadn’t managed a word before Steph butted in.
‘No. She’s my friend,’ she announced fiercely, reaching for Callie’s hand and clinging to it. ‘She was there when it happened and I want her to stay with me.’
‘That won’t be a problem as long as she doesn’t get in the way,’ the young nurse said kindly, and Mike had to stifle a chuckle when he caught Callie’s eye. He opened his mouth, obviously intending to tell the team about her qualifications, but Callie gave her head a sharp shake, hoping he would keep the information to himself. Now was not the time to end up answering an inquisition about why she was so far from home.
She was also feeling overwhelmed by such familiar surroundings, having trouble coping with the fact that even though everything was so similar to St Mark’s, there was one huge difference—there was no chance of coming out of the cubicle and seeing Con’s familiar figure walking towards her with that sexy smile deepening the dimples either side of his mouth.
Not that she’d seen much of that sexy smile over the last few weeks and months. She hadn’t felt much like smiling, either, but in her case it had been because she’d been mourning the death of the baby that would have made her life complete. She’d thought Con had been mourning, too. It had taken blunt words to open her eyes to the true state of affairs between them.
A very junior registrar came in a few minutes later and was doing very well until he caught sight of what Mike had written on Steph’s case notes. Suddenly he became all fingers and thumbs and started second-guessing himself over every little thing until Callie couldn’t stand it any more.
‘I’ll just go out and make a call while you’re organising the ultrasound scan, shall I?’ she suggested, taking pity on the poor man’s nerves.
‘You won’t go away, will you, Callie?’ Steph demanded, looking younger than ever swathed in a voluminous hospital gown.
‘I promise,’ Callie said with an encouraging smile. ‘But I need to do something about my accommodation. We aren’t all getting free beds for the night.’
‘But you will come back, won’t you?’ she said, sounding