you have a private room free?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Then let’s move him in there, shall we?’ she said, her tone still inexorable. ‘He’s not so dreadfully battered that we risk shock by letting the parents close. Regardless, they need to see him. We both know that. They can’t accept his death until they do. So…We need to do the best we can for these people and it can’t wait. Can you show me where the morgue is? I’ll take care of Kyle’s body while you start preparing your private room for him.’
‘Can’t they see him in the morgue?’
‘If he was your little son,’ Emma said gently, ‘would you like to say goodbye to him in a morgue? I think we can do better than that.’
The log had smashed Kyle’s internal organs, crushing him instantly, but to look at his face he might almost be sleeping.
He was such a…
No. Stay dispassionate. Somehow.
Emma washed his face with care. With tenderness. She wrapped his little body tightly so the crushing injuries weren’t apparent, she wrapped him again, more loosely, in a soft blanket so if need be he could be lifted and cuddled, and then she supervised the orderlies as they wheeled him through to the ward.
Margaret hovered, anxious, ready to say no, but Emma gave her no chance. She used the authority of her training—and the instincts of her heart. If this little one had been hers…
The orderlies—two young men who looked as if they were barely out of school, and who looked as if the shock of the day had them wanting to be back there—held back, unsure in the face of death, so in the ward it was Emma who lifted him across into the bed, settling his head against the pillows, arranging his features so he wasn’t stiffly at attention but rather in the pose of a child sleeping.
Finally she stood back and nodded. She’d done all she could. She couldn’t bring him back to life but at least he looked as if he was at peace.
This was so important. Desperately important. In a moment his parents would see him for the last time, and this memory of their child would be carried with them for ever. She couldn’t bring him back for them but she could do this.
Finally she went outside to find them. Huddled in their misery, Kyle’s parents didn’t see her coming. She touched the woman lightly on the shoulder and they turned.
Their children looked mutely up at her, past asking questions.
‘Come and see your son,’ she told them. ‘We’ve washed him and popped him into a bed for you to say goodbye to him. He’s ready.’
‘The…kids?’ the woman whispered, and Emma looked at the children. At Kyle’s brothers and sisters.
‘That’s up to you,’ she said. ‘Whether you want your children to say goodbye to their brother is your decision. But if it was my kids…I know what I’d do.’
Fifteen minutes later, Dev left Theatre, reassured Suzy’s parents, took two deep breaths and thought, What next?
The Medivac team had taken the worst of the casualties out on the first run.
Suzy was stable and the Medivac helicopter was on its way back to evacuate her. The worst was over.
There’d still be traumatised kids. Too many traumatised kids.
Maybe they could wait for a little. The nurses would have done preliminary assessment and called him for anything urgent.
He needed to find the woman who’d helped him, he thought, and the vision of her as he’d first seen her came back to him. She’d been only semi-conscious. Hell, he’d had no time for her. She’d been injured, yet she’d thrown herself into the chaos and there’d been no time for him to assess her. She’d looked sick as she’d left Theatre.
Kyle. Kyle’s parents. They had to be his priority.
But the image of the woman—what had she said her name was, Emma?—stayed with him. She was a heroine, he thought. Somewhere, somehow he’d get a medal for her if he had to do battle with politicians himself to arrange it. She was such a slip of a thing, too thin, her eyes too big for her pinched face, heavy with pregnancy, yet what she’d achieved…
He’d find her. As soon as possible he’d find her.
There was no one at the nurses’ station. Where was everyone?
Where was Emma?
There was a sound of distant sobbing. Kyle’s family? Margaret came round the corner and met him, her face a mix of uncertainty and concern.
‘Kyle’s parents?’ It must be.
‘Kyle’s in Room 5,’ she told him.
He frowned. The last time he’d seen the child’s body the orderlies had been carrying it into the morgue. ‘Why?’
‘Emma…the doctor…asked me to put him in there so his parents could spend time with him. I hope it’s OK. Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No,’ he told her. ‘Do you know where Emma is?’
‘She’s with them. Or she was.’
What the heck was she doing there? She should be in bed. He needed to check her baby. He…
‘You’ve had a hell of a day,’ Margaret was saying. She put a hand on his arm.
He grimaced. ‘Yeah,’ he said softly, and listened to the sobs. ‘But not as hellish as some.’
‘I hope I did the right thing, letting Emma bring him from the morgue.’
‘Of course.’ She seemed to expect it so he gave her a swift hug. She smiled, and then pulled back, smoothing her uniform.
‘Not here.’
‘No.’
Enough. He had to face Kyle’s family.
He turned towards room 5, thinking through the decision to move him. A private room and a bed rather than a stretcher in the morgue. Good call.
Here she was again. His phantom doctor, springing up where he least expected her.
She wasn’t very good at lying down and dying, he decided. Thank God.
‘OK. It’s a good idea,’ he told Margaret. ‘So you’ve been talking to her. Do we know anything about her other than her name’s Emma?’
‘She’s bossy,’ Margaret said, and gave him a half-smile. ‘Almost as bossy as I am. She washed Kyle and made him look…normal. She did a lovely job.’
He winced at that.
A lovely job. Bad choice of words, he told Margaret silently. Was there any such thing as a lovely job where Kyle was concerned?
Kyle was the fourth kid of a family of six and a real little daredevil.
