and Dad…’
‘Do they live near the beach?’
‘On the beach,’ she corrected
‘And I bet you’re round there more often than not?’
She actually managed a small laugh. ‘Mum says I use the hotel…’ No, that wasn’t right. Everything was coming out muddled. Meg forced herself to concentrate. ‘I use the house like…’ She never finished her sentence, her eyes gently closing as she gave up trying to explain.
‘Like a hotel?’ The torch was blasting back in her eyes now. ‘I bet you do. So, come on, what do when you go to the beach? Body surf? Water ski?’ There was a tinge of urgency creeping into his voice. ‘Open your eyes and tell me what you do at the beach, Meg!’
The sun was shining brightly when she did, warm and delicious. The same sun that warmed her when she sunbathed, the same birds chirping, the same lazy, hazy feeling as she stretched out on a towel and drifted off. Closing her eyes, feeling its warmth, she could almost hear the ocean, almost imagine she was lying on the soft sand, listening to the children patting sandcastles into shape. The hum of the firefighters’ drill was almost a perfect Jet Ski in the distance…
‘Meg!’ It was him again, breaking into her dream, utterly refusing to leave her be. ‘What do you do at the beach?’
‘I sleep.’
She heard him half-laugh, half-curse. ‘She’s practically hypnotised herself here, Ken. Tell them to step on it.’
Whether it was Flynn’s insistence or whether the tree was finally secured Meg didn’t know, but suddenly the ‘jaws of life’ were peeling the roof off her car as easily as the foil top on a yoghurt carton. The noise was deafening, the movement terrifying, but through it all Flynn was beside her, holding her hand, soothing her with his presence, until finally a firefighter appeared above them, giving the thumbs-up sign. For the last hour all Meg had wished for was to be free from the mangled wreckage, but now the moment was here suddenly she was scared again.
Bracing herself for movement, she gripped Flynn’s hand tighter. ‘It’s going to hurt.’
‘You’re going to be fine. Once you’re in the ambulance, and I’ve checked you over, I’ll give you something for pain.’
‘Promise?’
He gave her a smile. ‘Trust me.’ He was easing his fingers out of her grip. ‘I’m just going around to your other side so I can support your head as they bring you out. I’ll speak to you again in the ambulance.’
And with that she had to be content.
He held her head as they skilfully lifted her, taking charge from the top as they started the slow, painstaking ascent back to the road, relaying his orders in clear, direct tones, carefully ensuring that her neck never moved out of alignment, assuming at all times the worst-case scenario: until an X-ray showed no fracture of her neck it was safer to assume that she had one. And though Meg had never been more scared in her life, never been in more pain, amazingly she felt safe, knew that she was in good hands— literally.
Strong hands gently lowered her onto the cool crisp sheets on the stretcher, and she felt the bumps as they wheeled her to the awaiting ambulance. Fragments of the conversations between the police and the firefighters reached her as they jolted along.
‘…no skid marks…’
‘…the witness said she just veered straight off.’
‘…just finished a night shift…’
It was the type of conversation Meg heard nearly every working day, the tiny pieces of a jigsaw that would painstakingly be put together, adding up the chain of events that had led to an accident. Only this time it was about her.
As they lifted her into the ambulance and secured the stretcher she ran a tongue over her dry bloodstained lips.
‘Where’s Flynn?’
Ken patted her arm. ‘He’ll be here in a moment.’
‘He said he’d be here.’ Suddenly it seemed imperative that she see Flynn and tell him what had happened.
‘Just give him a moment, Meg, he’s had a rough morning.’ Ken’s words made no sense. She was the patient, after all, and the way Ken was talking it sounded as if Flynn was the one who was upset.
‘What’s she moaning about now?’ It was Flynn again, a touch paler and a bit grey-looking, but with the same easy smile and a slight wink as he teased her.
‘Are you all right?’
Meg opened her mouth to answer but realised that Ken’s question had actually been directed to Flynn.
Flynn muttered something about a ‘dodgy pie’ and, after accepting a mint from Ken, again shone the beastly pupil torch back into her eyes.
‘She’s in a lot of pain, Flynn.’ Ken was speaking as he checked her blood pressure. ‘All her obs are stable. Do you want to head off to the hospital now?’
‘I’ll just have a quick look first.’ Whipping out his stethoscope, he gently moved it across her bruised, tender ribcage. ‘Good air entry,’ he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. ‘Is it hurting a lot, Meg?’
‘I didn’t…’ Her voice was merely a croak, but it was enough to stop Flynn listening to her chest. Pulling his stethoscope out of his ears, he bent his head forward.
‘What was that, Meg?’
‘I didn’t fall…’ But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Huge tears were welling in her eyes, sobs preventing her from going further as the emotion of the morning, now she was free from the wreckage, finally hit home.
‘It’s all right, Meg. Don’t try and talk. You’re safe now. I’m going to give you something for the pain.’ His lips were set in a grim line and she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead, but Flynn’s voice was kind and assured as he continued talking. ‘The main thing is that you’re safe.’ His grey eyes seemed to be boring into her, and Meg found that she couldn’t tear her own away. Even as the sirens wailed into life and the ambulance moved off she found herself still holding his gaze, her eyelids growing heavy as the drug he had injected took effect and oblivion descended.
* * *
‘Meg O’Sullivan, we weren’t expecting you till tonight. Don’t tell me: you just can’t stay away from the place.’ Jess chatted away good-humouredly, her Irish accent thick and strong, as the team lifted her onto the trolley. There was nothing Emergency staff dreaded more than being wheeled into their own department, but unfortunately it happened now and then, and the staff dealt with it with a very special brand of humour—intimate, yet professional.
‘Perhaps she’s checking up on you.’ Ken Holmes carried on the joke as they swapped the paramedics’ monitors and equipment for the emergency department’s own.
‘Or…’ Jess smiled as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Meg’s bruised arm ‘…she decided that she did want to meet the new consultant after all.’
‘She
