a simple strain, I saw it happen myself…’
‘Open a thoracotomy tray,’ Guy called, and almost on autopilot Madison went to retrieve one. She set it up to open Gerard’s chest, to rip through his sternum so that Guy could visualise the heart, massage it with his hands, clamp the aorta, tie off a bleed or remove a clot, do something, anything, that might prolong this wonderful life. But all Madison knew was that Gerard wouldn’t have wanted it.
‘We did everything we could.’
She’d heard it said so many times, had used the sentence herself on many, many occasions, but maybe for the first time Madison knew exactly what it meant. That sometimes to do everything you actually had to be brave and do nothing—because nothing modern medicine had to offer was going to help now. Despite heroics, despite best effort, nothing could make a difference for Gerard—certainly not ripping open his chest with a saw.
‘He’s gone.’ She couldn’t believe she was saying it, yet she knew that it was true. Knew that going on even a moment longer was an indignity, that Professor Gerard Dalton had gone and nothing was going to bring him back.
‘He might have…’ For a second Guy wavered, torn between hope and truth, and for the first time Madison actually looked at him, took in the man she’d never formally met but who seemed somehow to understand the atrocity of what had taken place. Dark blond hair flopped over his forehead, the same raw anguish she had first witnessed when he had knelt down beside Gerard’s lifeless body in the entrance hall more visible now. His hazel eyes stared first at her then down at his patient, his tall, muscular body slumped in resignation, the rhythmic massage stilling. But his fingers were still knotted together over Gerard’s chest as he stared at the monitor.
‘There’s no history?’ he checked. ‘Any pre-existing—?’
‘He’s a workaholic,’ Madison whispered. ‘That’s all I know.’
And the agony she had briefly witnessed was smothered now as Guy reverted to the practical, drew on his professionalism. He flicked on his torch, tested Gerard’s pupil response, pulled out his stethoscope and listened for any indication of life, shaking his head as the paramedics rushed in pumped for action, ready to assist. They visibly deflated as they realised who the patient was—anyone who had been in Emergency for any length of time knew and respected Gerard Dalton.
‘Time of death.’ Guy Boyd’s voice was hollow, a muscle flickering in his taut cheek as he glance up at the clock. ‘Five thirty-two a.m.’
And Madison did what was needed but no more—she closed Gerard’s eyes on a world he had left too soon, pulled a sheet up over his body but not over his face, then walked out of the area, dragging in air that seemed stale, nausea seeping into every pore, nerves jumping as Guy Boyd came up behind her.
‘What happened? Before I arrived, I mean.’
‘You saw what happened,’ Madison choked. ‘One minute we were talking, looking forward to today and the next…’ She took a deep breath, swallowing rising hysteria. ‘His wife, I’ll have to—’
‘I’ll do it,’ Guy broke in, but Madison shook her head.
‘She deserves more than a phone call.’
‘I’ll go over to her home now.’ He gave a hesitant nod, then midway it changed and he nodded more firmly. ‘The hospital doesn’t officially open for a few hours yet. I’ll go and fetch her.’
‘But Yvonne should hear it from someone who knows her…’ Tears were starting, emotion was creeping in, but Madison choked it all back, appalled at the prospect of breaking down, terrified that if she started to cry she’d never stop, painfully aware that staff would be arriving soon.
‘I know Yvonne,’ Guy said, his hand reaching out and capturing her shoulder, squeezing it. Madison couldn’t be sure if he was giving support or taking it. ‘I’ll tell her what’s happened face to face—it’s better that way. No doubt she’ll want to come straight over to the hospital, she’ll need to see for herself…Are you OK?’ His voice changed from pensive to worried, his hand tightened on her shoulder, but more in an attempt to hold her up. ‘Sister…?’
‘Madison,’ she filled in, running a tongue over horribly dry lips. A scream built in her throat but she swallowed it back, balled her fists, struggled to keep it all in check as blindly Guy continued.
‘Madison Walsh,’ Guy responded, obviously having recognised her name. ‘Gerard speaks very highly of you.’ A flash of pain flickered across his face and mercifully he didn’t correct himself, didn’t relegate Gerard to the past tense while he was still warm in the room nearby. Instead, Guy gulped in air, raked a hand through his hair and then nodded as if to right himself.
‘I’ll go and tell Yvonne now. This is going to have to go to the coroner, so don’t remove any equipment from the…’ He gave a tiny swallow before continuing. ‘Just make him look as presentable as you can.’
‘Of course I will,’ Madison snapped, not sure where her anger was coming from, not sure at all how she was actually feeling, but relieved to let a little bit of emotion out. ‘As if I need to be told how to prepare a patient.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said. ‘I wasn’t implying…’ His voice trailed off and Madison stood there trying to take it all in, trying to fathom how somehow in a matter of minutes everything, everything, had changed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and Madison knew he wasn’t apologising for his words this time but for the terrible loss that had been suffered.
‘Me, too,’ Madison whispered, wondering how she was going to do this, how she was going to tell the staff. Face Yvonne. Her mind grasped for some comfort, for strength to see her through just the next moment at least. She found it from an unlikely source. Guy Boyd’s hand reached for her shoulder, gripping it tightly for a moment in a tender show of support.
‘We’ll get through this, the department is going to get through this.’
But Madison knew that, knew the team she and Gerard had created, the procedures that had long since been put in place, were enough to withstand even a blow such as this. Her grief was on a much more personal level and when she didn’t respond, Guy seemed to sense why.
‘He was more than just a boss to you, wasn’t he?’
‘Much more,’ Madison agreed, and perhaps it was the emotion of the moment, a need to voice what was on her mind. Whatever the reason, she found herself opening up in a way she hadn’t in the longest time, and even though there were endless things to be addressed, endless problems to face, the two of them took a small slice of time to share in some memories before they faced the unenviable tasks ahead. ‘He delivered my daughter.’
‘Don’t tell me you delivered the baby at work!’ Guy teased, but his voice was tinged with something he couldn’t identify—regret, confusion, he didn’t know. It was hard to believe that this brittle, almost hostile woman should have a softer side, that behind the starched uniform and withering stare beat the infinitely gentler dimensions of a woman.
‘Not quite.’ A tiny smile wobbled on her lips as she recalled the memory. ‘We needed the money so I worked far into my pregnancy. I was thirty-five weeks pregnant and thought I had a bit of back pain. I tried not to let anyone see, but Gerard, being Gerard, picked up on it straight away. He wanted me to go to Maternity but I insisted on going home first. Being the gentleman he was, he offered to drive me home.’
‘You
