St Piran’s: The Wedding of The Year. Caroline Anderson
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to the desk and spoke to the haematology technician who’d just come to find him. Nick followed them, grabbing a cup of water on the way, and then lay in the next cubicle to his son, the curtain between them firmly closed, while the technician set up the intravenous line and started collecting his blood.
‘Can you be quick? I need to get back,’ he said, and she smiled.
‘It’s a good job you’re a regular donor, Dr Tremayne,’ she said tolerantly. ‘Saves all the screening. I take it nothing’s changed since the last time?’
‘No, nothing.’ Nothing except his youngest son nearly dying and Kate deciding to leave the county. ‘Take two units,’ he insisted.
She tried to argue, but Jack’s voice cut across them both.
‘Just do it. It might keep him quiet. You can take two from me as well.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t like to, but our B-neg donors in the hospital have all been called on recently and there isn’t any available until tomorrow. Stocks are really low at the moment; we’ve got O-neg but obviously this is better. You’re not still working this evening, Mr Tremayne?’
‘No. I’ve finished for the day and I’ve got a light day tomorrow. My registrar can cover me if necessary,’ Jack answered.
‘And you, Dr Tremayne?’
‘I’m not leaving the hospital until I know Jem’s all right.’ Nick replied.
If he was all right. Hell, he had to be all right. There was so much to say to him, so much lost time to make up for. It would be the bitterest irony if now, when he was finally beginning to accept that Jem really was his son and realise what he meant to him, he lost him before he could tell him.
Nick rested his head back, closed his eyes and prayed as he hadn’t prayed since the night Annabel had died.
He couldn’t lose another member of his family, and neither could Kate. It just wasn’t an option. He pumped his hand to speed up the flow, so he could get back to her side as quickly as possible…
‘She hasn’t got any fractures, but she’s sore,’ Ben said softly, taking Nick to one side when he returned to A and E. ‘Her right ankle’s got a nasty bruise, and she’s whiplashed her neck slightly, and her chest is a bit tender where the seat belt cut in. The skin’s still a bit fragile anyway, after the surgery and radiotherapy last year.’
He realised he didn’t even know if it had been the left or right breast, and asked—not that it made any difference, or was anything to do with him, but he just wanted everything straight in his head, trying to make order of the chaos of the day, and this was another brick in the wall he could straighten.
‘Left,’ Ben said, not even questioning his need to know that stupidly irrelevant fact. ‘I wanted to keep her here for a bit, let her rest, but she won’t hear of it. She’s very shocked, though. I’ve given her some pain relief, but she wouldn’t let me give her a sedative.’
‘No. She wouldn’t. Stubborn woman.’
Ben smiled tolerantly, and Nick gave a short, ironic laugh.
‘Pot and kettle?’ he said, and Ben chuckled.
‘Go in and see her, she’s waiting for you. And give me your car keys, I’ll get it moved. It’s obstructing the entrance and the ambos are getting cross.’
He handed over the keys, thanked Ben and went to see Kate.
How long could he be?
Ben had insisted she should lie there for a while and wait for Nick, and frankly she didn’t have the strength to argue. Anyway, there was nothing she could do for Jem now except will him to be alive, and she could do that lying down in A and E as well as she could hovering outside the scanner room in Radiology.
Once Nick was back, she’d get up and go and sit there, waiting for news, but for now, she was lying wide-eyed, alert, her adrenaline running flat out, her pulse rapid, her throat dry.
‘You’re a mess, Kate Althorp,’ she told herself, and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. No way. But she could shut out the light.
She’d dozed off.
Or so he thought, but as Nick stepped into the cubicle, her eyes flew open.
‘Is there any news?’ she asked, her face worried, and he shook his head.
‘No. I’ve just spoken to Ben, but they haven’t heard anything. Josh is with him in CT. Are you OK to go down there now?’
She gave a humourless little laugh that cut him to the bone, and tried to smile. ‘Sure. My right ankle hurts, but I’ve got some arnica gel in my bag, I’ll put it on later. Let’s go.’
‘Want me to do it now?’ he asked, wondering how he’d cope with touching her, smoothing his hand over her skin, feeling her warmth beneath his fingers and knowing she wasn’t his to touch, to hold—to love?
Would never be.
‘Not now. Later, maybe. I need to be with Jem.’
‘I’ll get a wheelchair,’ he told her. ‘Stay there.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,’ she said, swinging her legs down and wriggling her feet into her damp shoes with a grimace. ‘I’m perfectly capable of walking. I’m fine.’
She wasn’t. She wasn’t fine at all, but she had guts. He tried to smile, but his own guts were strung tight. He tucked her hand in his arm so she could lean on him, and walked with her to Radiology, glad they were moving fairly slowly. He was feeling a little light-headed and wondering if his stubborn insistence on giving two units had been such a good idea after all. It was a quarter of his circulating blood volume—enough to crash his blood pressure into his boots. He ought to get something to eat and drink, but now wasn’t the time.
‘He’ll be out in a minute, he’s nearly done,’ the receptionist told them, and they sat and waited, Kate suddenly even more nervous because of what the CT might show up.
She thought her stomach was going to turn inside out it was churning so hard, and the painkillers Ben had given her didn’t seem to be helping. Well, they were helping, but not enough. She rolled her neck slightly to ease it, but it didn’t work. It was because she was tense, coiled like a spring, poised for bad news.
‘I can’t sit here, I’m going to have to walk around,’ she told Nick, pushing herself to her feet just as the doors opened and Jem was wheeled out by Josh and the anaesthetist. The radiologist came over to them, nodded to Nick and then turned to her.
‘Mrs Althorp?’
‘Yes,’ Kate said, trying not to fall down and feeling Nick’s firm hand on her waist holding her in place. She dragged her eyes from Jem and the gap in the blankets showing the frame holding his pelvis rigid, and leaned against Nick, grateful for the support, both physical and emotional, wondering what was coming, hardly daring to ask. ‘How is he?’ she managed, her throat tight.
‘Stable. No damage apart from the fracture—he’s been lucky, and there’s no sign of a bleed from the head injury, so they’re taking him straight up to Theatre now. You’ll need to go up with him and sign the consent forms, if you haven’t already done it, and I imagine you’ll want to wait up there for news?’
She nodded and looked at Jem. She wanted to talk to him—touch him, just touch him so she could reassure herself he was still alive, but he was unconscious, still under anaesthetic. She leant over the trolley anyway, and rested her hand on his cheek briefly, reassured by his warmth but frowning at the bruises as they walked towards the lift.
‘Jem? It’s Mum,’ she said softly. ‘You’re all right, my darling. You’re going to be OK, can you hear me? I’ll be waiting for you, OK? I’ll be here, all the time. I love you—’
She cracked, and Nick hugged her to his side as they followed