‘I’ve a rug in my car—I’ll go and fetch it.’
He glanced round when the red-haired woman spoke beside him, feeling his senses swirl as he inhaled the fragrance of the shampoo she had used to wash her hair. It was years since he had been aware of something like that and it shook him so that he missed what she said next. ‘I’m sorry—what was that?’ he asked thickly.
‘Can you phone for an ambulance while I fetch the rug?’ she repeated. ‘Lauren’s in a great deal of pain and she needs to be in hospital.’
Elliot nodded, not trusting himself to say anything this time, although it was understandable if he was acting out of character after the week he’d had. The thought helped to reassure him as he took his mobile phone from his pocket and put through a call to the emergency services. He sighed inwardly when the operator explained that it would take some time for the ambulance to reach them. The sooner this was over and done with, the sooner he could get home to Joseph, he thought anxiously as he ended the call. Asking Mrs Danton, his newly acquired housekeeper, to spend the night with his son had been a last resort, but he’d had no choice when he had been called into work. However, he couldn’t expect Mrs Danton to keep covering for him so he would need to find someone suitable to look after Joseph soon...if he could.
The thought of what little success he’d had to date didn’t sit easily with him. It was a relief when the red-haired woman came back and he could turn his attention to other matters. Elliot moved aside while she bent down to speak to the driver.
‘We’re going to get you out of there now, Lauren. We’ll take it nice and slowly so there’s nothing to worry about. The ambulance is on its way and it won’t be long before it gets here.’
Elliot felt a ripple of something that felt very much like shame run through him and he frowned. Why did he feel ashamed to hear genuine concern in her voice? Was it the fact that he was more concerned about his own problems than this poor woman? When was the last time he had really felt anything? he wondered suddenly. When had he truly cared? Oh, he cared about Joseph, of course, cared about every aspect of his son’s life. It was his raison d’être, the thing that kept him focused. He also cared about utilising his skills to give his young patients a better quality of life, but even then his interest was detached, impersonal. He didn’t feel it inside, didn’t feel anything very much in there. Apart from his love for Joseph, his heart was a wasteland, empty, barren, and all of a sudden Elliot found himself wishing that it was different, that he was different. Listening to this woman, with her concern and her caring, he realised how much he was lacking.
‘Can you swing your legs out, Lauren? I know it hurts, love, but we need to lie you down.’
The woman’s voice was gentle, soothing, and for some reason Elliot felt his guilt subside. Moving closer to the van, he waited until the driver had swung her legs out of the door. ‘I’ll carry her,’ he said gruffly because old habits took a long time to die.
‘Are you sure you can manage?’
The redhead shot an assessing look at him, obviously weighing up his physique, and Elliot felt himself colour. It happened so fast too that he didn’t have time to stop it. Bending, he gathered the driver into his arms, feeling heat scudding around his body. He couldn’t recall ever blushing like this before, would swear that he had never done so, not even when he was a teenager, and the shock of what had happened robbed him of the ability to speak. He could only nod like some damned puppet as he carried the young woman over to the pavement and gently laid her down on the rug.
‘Thank you.’ The red-haired woman stepped around him and knelt down. ‘Where exactly is the pain, Lauren? Can you show me?’
‘Here.’ Lauren pointed to the lower right-hand side of her abdomen and Elliot frowned.
‘Appendix?’ he murmured, not realising that he had spoken out loud until the redhead looked sharply at him.
‘Was that a lucky guess or do you have some kind of medical training?’
‘Medical training,’ he said shortly. He had a list of qualifications as long as his arm but he wasn’t about to share them with her and have her make some disparaging remark. It shook him that he should be so sensitive all of a sudden and he hurried on. ‘I’ll check with ambulance control to see how long it will be before they get here.’
‘You do that. And, while you’re speaking to them, make sure they know the patient is three months pregnant with a history of miscarriages.’ Her tone was laced with genuine concern once more. ‘They need to be prepared when we get there.’
Elliot didn’t say anything as he moved away to make the call but it didn’t stop him thinking it. Somewhere along the line he had forgotten why he had gone into medicine in the first place—to alleviate suffering and help people. Would he ever find his way back to those days when he had cared? he wondered. Return to a time when each and every patient he had treated had left their mark? He hoped so, he really did. Because he knew with a sudden flash of insight that he would never be truly happy unless he did.
* * *
It was almost eight a.m. before Polly felt that she could safely leave the hospital. Lauren had been rushed to Theatre as it appeared that her appendix was on the point of rupturing. A scan had shown that her baby was safe and well and now she just needed to get through the operation. Although it wasn’t ideal in her condition, the surgeon seemed confident that all would be well.
‘Thanks again for everything you’ve done, Polly.’ Lauren’s husband, Sam, hugged her. ‘Having you there really helped Lauren—it stopped her panicking so much.’
‘I was happy to help, and even happier that the surgeon is so positive about the outcome.’ She hugged Sam back. ‘Everything will be fine, Sam, you’ll see.’
‘I hope so.’ Sam dredged up a smile, but it was obvious that he was deeply worried about them losing this much-wanted child. ‘Anyway, you get off now. Lauren will never forgive herself if you’re late because of her.’
‘Tell her from me that she’s not to give it another thought,’ Polly said quickly. She bit her lip, wondering if she should explain, but her brother, Peter, had insisted that he would be the one to break the news. She had phoned him as soon as she had read the letter Martin had left for her. Peter was based in New York these days and had only flown into the country that afternoon but he had hired a car and driven straight over to Beesdale. They had spent the night discussing what to do until in the end Peter had insisted that she should leave it to him. It had been a relief, if she was honest. The thought of the upset it was going to cause so many people wasn’t something she relished, so she would do as Peter had suggested, drive to York and catch the train to London as she and Martin had planned to do. At least it would give her a breathing space, time to make fresh plans, because that was what she was going to have to do now, of course.
It was a scary thought. Polly did her best not to panic as she said goodbye and left. She would take things one step at a time and eventually she would come out the other side, even though she couldn’t imagine what her life was going to be like in the future. A sob caught in her throat. All her plans were up in the air; everything she had expected to happen now wouldn’t take place. It was a daunting prospect, to say the least.
Polly was so deep in thought that she had made her way outside before she remembered that she had left her car in Beesdale. Lauren had begged her to go in the ambulance with her and Polly hadn’t given any thought to what she would do after she left the hospital. She sighed wearily. If her case hadn’t been in the car then she could have taken a taxi to the station but she would need the clothes she had packed, even if they had been chosen for a very different reason...
‘Do you want a lift?’
Polly glanced round when a taxi drew up alongside her, her eyebrows rising when she recognised the man seated in the back as the driver of the other vehicle involved in the accident. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said with a sad lack of grace.
‘It appears that I’ve pulled a muscle.’ He