stood back as they gently rolled him on to the stretcher, releasing his hand as she did so. His eyes flickered open briefly and he looked up at her.
‘Stay with me,’ he muttered. ‘Please stay.’
She looked questioningly at them. One of them shrugged.
‘That’s OK. You can come, but you’ll have to step on it.’
Forgetting her shopping, she ran behind them, back down the hill. They carefully lifted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and Claire joined one of the crew in the back, while the other ran round to the cab, jumped in and started the engine.
She watched as the ambulanceman attached a monitor to the man’s chest, and a thin luminous green light began to track across a small screen like a television.
‘Sinus rhythm—that’s good,’ he said, to no one in particular. ‘But ST elevation, though.’
He seemed to have forgotten who Claire was, he was speaking to her almost as though she were a nurse, although he might as well have been speaking in Greek, for all that she understood.
The man’s eyes flickered open again. He was middle-aged, but a slim, fit-looking middle-aged. She didn’t think that men like that had heart attacks. His thick hair was frosted with silver. It could have been her father lying there, she thought, then tried to block out the thought immediately.
He glanced over to where she sat on the edge of the opposite stretcher and gave her a weak smile. Claire smiled back as encouragingly as she could. Meanwhile the ambulance was tearing through the streets, only switching on the shrill, terrifying blare of the siren if they came to traffic jams or red lights.
Through the darkened glass at the back she could see that they were going up Haverstock Hill, and there, at last, on the right-hand side, was the entrance to the hospital.
They stopped by some double doors, where they seemed to have been expected, because they flew open immediately and two nurses and a doctor came running out to meet them.
The doctor leapt up the three steps in one, and Claire gave a small gasp. It was the man from the restaurant!
She saw the light of recognition in his eyes, and then he was turning to the patient, his fingers feeling for a pulse, his eyes glued to the small screen, watching the line of the monitor as it rhythmically rose and fell, looking to Claire’s untutored eye like a graph from one of the financial papers.
‘Any fibrillation or VT?’ he asked the ambulanceman.
‘None seen, Doctor.’
‘Good. Let’s get him inside as quickly as possible. Put him into cubicle four, will you?’
He stood aside to let the stretcher be lifted down, then turned to Claire.
‘Are you a relative?’ he asked, very gently.
‘No. He collapsed in front of me.’
‘I’d like to speak to you, after I’ve examined the patient. Can you stay for a little while?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was tremulous. ‘Yes, I can.’
‘Thanks,’ he said briefly, and jumped down from the vehicle and followed the stretcher.
One of the nurses showed Claire into a small, bare office, where she began to shake violently. The whole incident had been so shocking, and then to see him there!
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ asked the nurse, her voice concerned. ‘You’ve gone as white as a sheet. Would you like me to bring you a cup of tea?’
Claire nodded blankly, and thanked the nurse automatically as she came back with a cup and saucer, but it lay untouched on the desk as she sat there, hopelessly dazed.
Presently the door opened and he was standing there, looking down at her and smiling.
‘You!’ he said.
So he wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t recognise her, she thought with relief. Instinctively, she felt that this man would always be honest with her.
Under his white coat she could see that he was wearing a checked cotton shirt and olive green cords. Again she was struck by the physical presence of him. He looked so alive, and strong and dependable.
He walked over to her and saw the tea-cup.
‘You haven’t touched your tea,’ he remarked.
Claire shook her head. ‘Will he . . . Will Mr Phillips be all right?’ she asked, her face chalky white.
‘Well, the next twenty-four hours will be crucial, but he’s in the best place possible,’ he answered noncommittally but kindly. He looked at his wristwatch. ‘Look, I can’t possibly let you go home in that condition, and I’d like you to tell me what happened. My SHO is putting a drip up on him just now. Let me take you over to the canteen—I need my lunch before this afternoon’s ward round, and I might be able to rustle you up a hot cup of tea. By the way, my name’s Luke Hayward.’
She looked up and gave him a watery smile. ‘Claire Scott,’ she said politely. ‘Thank you very much, I’d like that.’
She had never been in a hospital canteen before, and was slightly taken aback at the level of noise and activity which greeted her. Luke Hayward led her over to a small, quiet table, well away from the counter, and sat her down.
‘I’ll just go and find you some tea. Do you want any lunch?’
She shook her head.
While he joined the queue, she looked around at all the crowded tables. There were groups of chattering nurses, in a huge variety of different coloured uniform dresses and belts. Some sat with doctors. Other tables seated young women and men with short white coats, who Claire supposed must be the medical students.
Perhaps it was a naïve impression, she thought, but everyone looked so animated. She was used to spending lunch-breaks on a shoot with other models who sipped at mineral water, and filed their nails and looked bored.
Luke came back with a tray and placed a cup in front of her. For himself he unloaded an enormous plate full of food with masses of vegetables and potatoes, with fruit to follow. Claire’s eyes widened slightly. Surely he wasn’t going to eat all that! It was more the sort of meal you expected a labourer to eat. The men she usually mixed with picked at a chef’s salad and then consumed a bottle of wine!
Luke must have seen her expression, because his eyes twinkled.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, ‘I haven’t usually got quite such a gargantuan appetite, but I was called to coronary care first thing and missed breakfast, and only had a scratch supper last evening. Drink some of your tea now.’
She took a sip. It was the colour of treacle and tasted as though it were composed of treacle too, but she had never enjoyed a cup of tea so much.
Luke ate his meal quickly, like a man used to hurrying, then pushed his plate away and turned the full force of his grey-green eyes on her.
‘Feel
