nerve. I’ll hand you the needle and a wipe now.’
‘Pass me scissors first, her blouse is in the way,’ she said, and, taking them, she sliced away the clothes over the woman’s collar-bone and then handed them back. ‘Right, let’s have a wipe and the needle.’
He talked her through it, and seconds later there was a little pop, and a rush of air through the end of the cannula.
‘OK, can you slide the catheter in now and take the needle out?’ he asked, and when she’d done that and had checked it was still venting, she taped it in place and wriggled back out.
‘She’s looking better,’ she said, ‘but she needs to come out of there fast. I don’t think I can do anything else in there, the space is too tight.’
Nick nodded, and hailed the fire brigade officer who was in charge of freeing the casualties. ‘We need to get this lady out fast.’
‘Give me ten more minutes and we’ll be with you. Can she last that long?’
Sally shrugged. ‘I hope so.’
‘We need to reassess the others,’ Nick said briskly. ‘Status can change very rapidly under these conditions.’
Just then they were hailed by the paramedic working on the person with the trapped and bleeding leg, and they had no choice but to leave their lady with the pneumothorax. With a last glance over her shoulder, Sally followed Nick and found herself down in the passenger footwell of the BMW, applying a compression bandage to the lacerated limb to try and prevent any further blood loss while the fire brigade worked on the bulkhead with the air cutters.
It was only a few moments before he was released, and then Nick left the other casualties he was treating and came over to supervise his extraction from the car and make sure he was stable before he was whisked away to hospital.
Most of the casualties were suffering from cuts and bruises, and some were dealt with on the spot by the ambulance staff and taken to hospital for a routine check-up; others went straight off in the ambulances for treatment of fractures and stitching of lacerations once their condition was known to be stable.
Once the critical patients were dealt with, Nick and Sally turned their attention to the noisy ones—anyone who could make a fuss was going to live at least a few more minutes, and they worked their way through them as rapidly as possible.
The lady with the pneumothorax was freed after half an hour, and they broke off to supervise her removal and dispatch before going back to the less seriously injured.
Finally everyone had been dealt with, and Nick straightened up and stripped off his gloves, scrubbing his face on his shoulder in a weary gesture that tugged at Sally’s heartstrings.
‘Well, at least we didn’t lose anyone else,’ she said softly, and he nodded.
‘I know. Right, we need to get back to the unit. No doubt they’ll be in chaos.’
They stripped off their yellow coats and stashed them in the boot, along with the depleted bags of emergency supplies, and then Nick reversed back out of the wreckage that surrounded them and they drove slowly away, leaving the police to clear the crumpled cars away and get the road open.
‘It’s nearly five again,’ he said to her as they pulled up outside the hospital a short while later.
Sally sighed. ‘I know. Maybe one day I’ll knock off on time.’
‘I shouldn’t hold your breath,’ he said with a chuckle, and she smiled wryly.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not. I wonder if they still need me, or if I can get away?’
Nick cut the engine and looked across at her, then reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. ‘Nobody’s indispensable, Sal,’ he said softly. ‘Why don’t you go home? You look all in.’
She dragged her eyes from his and turned away, reaching blindly for the doorhandle. ‘I’m fine. I want to make sure my pneumothorax lady is OK before I go, if I do nothing else.’
‘OK, but then you go,’ he said firmly.
She made a noncommittal noise and opened the door, climbing out and looking towards the doors. The waiting room was full, no doubt with people who’d been delayed because of the crash and put to the back of the queue. If she stayed, she could help them get through the backlog quicker—
‘No.’
He’d appeared beside her; she glanced up into his face and saw his eyes were filled with gentle understanding. ‘No, what?’ she asked defensively. ‘I’m my own boss, Nick.’
‘You always were,’ he reminded her, and there was a thread of reproach in his voice.
She felt a twinge of guilt, and then reminded herself of the facts. ‘I only refused to move to Manchester with you because our relationship was going nowhere.’
‘Was it? I didn’t know where it was going. I wanted to find out. It was you who didn’t care.’
‘I cared!’ she exclaimed. ‘You told me to forget it, because I wouldn’t drop everything and go with you to the other end of the country! And then, when I tried to contact you, you didn’t bother to ring.’
He paused, his eyes searching. ‘I did try and ring,’ he said quietly. ‘I tried that number you gave me several times. Nobody had ever heard of a Staff Nurse Clarke. I assumed, in the end, that you must have been working for an agency, so I rang all the agencies I could get hold of. None of them had a Sally Clarke registered with them. I didn’t understand. I thought, if it was important enough, you’d ring me again—but you didn’t.’
She looked away, her heart pounding. She didn’t need this conversation—not now, when she was tired and stressed and pulled in all directions.
‘So what happened, Sal?’ he asked. ‘Where were you? How did you disappear?’
‘I—left,’ she lied, and opened the boot, hauling out bags. ‘Come on, we need to get inside and make ourselves useful.’
‘You’re avoiding me.’
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t bother to answer. She just picked up a bag, slung the straps over her shoulder and headed off towards A and E, leaving Nick behind her to deal with the other bag.
After a second she heard the boot lid slam and the click of the central locking, and his firm, crisp footsteps followed her. As they reached the door he grasped her arm and turned her towards him, his eyes glittering with determination.
‘Sally, I want to know. Why did you ring me—and why did you disappear?’
His voice was controlled, but he was angry, she could tell—angry and not about to be fobbed off again. She had to give him something, so she gave him a carefully doctored version of the truth.
‘I wanted to speak to you,’ she said evenly, avoiding those piercing blue eyes. ‘A member of my family was in hospital—I just needed to talk to you. I didn’t contact you again because it didn’t matter any more. It was no longer relevant.’
One
