Wish Upon a Star

Would she be able to prove him wrong?

She, of all people, knew how exacting he was. He was noted for his absence of tolerance when it came to mistakes.

‘Anyway, you’ve picked a good shift to start on,’ Nicky said cheerfully, leading her round to the main area of the department. ‘Your handsome husband isn’t working this afternoon, so you can find your feet without him watching you with those brooding dark eyes. And it’s Sunday afternoon. Lots of rugby injuries. Yummy men dressed in virtually nothing and covered in mud. My idea of heaven. Bring ‘em on!’

Christy laughed, suddenly realising just how much she’d missed the camaraderie that was so much a part of working in the A and E department.

‘Where do you want me to work this afternoon?’

‘Out here at the sharp end,’ Nicky said immediately. ‘You can help me. It will be like old times. If it’s quiet, we can warm our bottoms on the radiator and catch up on the gossip.’

Almost immediately the phone rang. Remembering that it was the hotline to Ambulance Control, Christy picked it up without hesitation, listening carefully while the person on the other end outlined the injuries of the patient they were bringing in.

When she’d replaced the receiver, she repeated the information to Nicky, her tone brisk and professional. ‘Sounds bad. Shall I get Sean?’

‘We need to assemble the trauma team,’ Nicky agreed. ‘Shame your Alessandro isn’t on, it’s right up his street. Still, never mind, we’ll bleep the on-call orthopaedic reg.’ Her eyes gleamed with humour. ‘He’ll have to do.’

The children were already asleep when she arrived home and Christy fell into bed, exhausted but elated. She’d done it. She’d worked a shift in A and E and she hadn’t killed anyone or even slightly injured them. And she’d had fun. It had been exciting and unpredictable and the time had passed so fast that she’d been astonished when Nicky had pointed out that it was time to go home. Astonished and disappointed because she’d been enjoying herself. Really, really enjoying herself.

And now she was back in the spare bedroom. For a short time she’d forgotten about her problems. But there was no forgetting them now, with the cold, empty stretch of bed next to her.

He didn’t want her, she reminded herself miserably.

He didn’t want her in his bed and he didn’t want her in his A and E department.

Leaving home and going to London had just brought to a head something that would have happened anyway.

Their marriage was on a slow downhill slide and she didn’t seem able to stop it.

The next morning, Christy scraped a thick layer of ice from her windscreen, dropped the children with her mother and arrived at A and E to find the department in chaos. The waiting room was full to bursting and the triage nurse looked unusually stressed as she tried to calm everyone and maintain order, filtering the urgent from the non-urgent.

‘A bus carrying Father Christmas and a bunch of elves hit a patch of black ice at the head of the Kirkstone pass,’ Nicky told her as she hurried past, carrying an armful of equipment. ‘Mostly walking wounded but they’ve just brought the driver in and he’s badly injured. Can you go into Resus and help? Alessandro is in there and they’re short of a circulation nurse. Donna is there but she’s newly qualified and I’m worried that your husband might take her head off if she’s less than perfect. I need you to give her some help. I’m helping to stave off a riot out here. Apparently even elves don’t respond well to four-hour waiting times.’

Without arguing or asking any further questions, Christy pushed open the doors of Resus and felt her heart hammer hard against her chest.

She hated to admit it, but the prospect of working with Alessandro made her nervous. She didn’t need Nicky’s reminder that he was capable of removing someone’s head if he wasn’t happy. It was one of the things she’d always respected about him. He cared deeply about each patient and wasn’t willing to settle for anything other than best practice. She knew him to be an exacting taskmaster with a zero tolerance for anything other than perfection.

It was all very well for Nicky to tell her to keep an eye on Donna, but who was going to keep an eye on her?

What if she couldn’t remember what to do?

A blood-stained Father Christmas outfit lay in a pile and the patient was groaning with pain. Alessandro stood at the head of the trolley, co-ordinating the medical team as he assessed the patient. ‘There’s some bruising over the anterior chest wall,’ he murmured as his eyes slid over the patient, conducting a visual examination. ‘No evidence of open wounds or penetrating trauma.’

Christy walked towards the trolley, momentarily distracted by the sight of him in action. She’d forgotten what an exceptionally gifted doctor he was. Slick, competent and a natural leader. Nothing ever fazed him.

He lifted his eyes from the patient and saw her. His expression didn’t change. ‘You need protective clothing before you handle the patient,’ he said coldly. ‘At the very least, latex gloves and an apron.’ He turned his attention back to his patient and Christy felt the colour flood into her cheeks. Of course she knew that the first thing she should have done was to reach for protective clothing. All blood and body fluids had to be assumed to carry HIV and the hepatitis virus. She knew that. It was just that seeing him had rattled her. Affected her confidence.

Determined not to let him get to her, she quickly donned the clothing that she needed and walked back to the trolley.

Her hands were shaking and her heart was banging against her ribs. She’d done this before, she reminded herself firmly. Many times.

Alessandro was listening to the patient’s chest, his face blank of expression as he concentrated. When he was satisfied, he looped the stethoscope round his neck and turned to the circulation doctor, a pretty blonde girl who was examining the patient’s femur. ‘Blood loss?’

‘I’m keeping pressure on that wound and it’s under control.’

‘OK, I want two peripheral lines in and take some blood for cross-matching, full blood count, U and Es, and let’s get an arterial sample. I want blood gas and pH analysis. What’s his blood pressure doing? I need an ECG here.’ His instructions were smooth and seamless and swiftly Christy took over from one of the other nurses, who was clearly struggling and whom she presumed to be Donna.

Instinctively her eyes flicked to the monitor as she reached for the adhesive electrode pads and attached the patient to the ECG monitor. ‘It’s dropping. Ninety over fifty.’