Dr. Campbell's Secret Son (8 page)

‘You can’t keep popping in and out of our lives, Jamie. Calum, at least, has a right to either have you in his life with all the commitment that entails or you have to stay out of our lives. For his sake—and mine.’ She lifted her chin, determined not to let him know how much her words were costing her. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him see how much she was hurting.

‘I need some time SJ. That’s all I’m asking. At the moment I can’t give either of you what you are looking for.’

‘Then I think you’d better leave, don’t you?’

Jamie went over to the sofa and retrieved his jacket. ‘Of course. I shouldn’t have come.’ He looked at Sarah and then at his son. Sarah could see something close to anguish reflected in his eyes. ‘Goodbye, SJ,’ he said softly as he gently closed the door behind him.

CHAPTER FIVE

S
ARAH
crept into the department, praying that she’d be able to avoid Jamie until she had some strong coffee under her belt. What had she been thinking? Falling into his arms like some overwrought child? But she knew her response to Jamie had been anything but that of a child. She almost groaned aloud as she remembered how his body had felt, hard and muscular against hers. She felt her cheeks go pink as she thought of his lips trailing across her shoulders, finding the secret spot at the base of her throat that he knew from past experience drove her wild. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself. How could she have succumbed so quickly to his touch, thought for one moment that his feelings had changed? That he was ready to make a commitment, if not to her, at least to their son. Nothing more. She felt her blush deepen as she remembered the scene, how easily she had gone into his arms. He wasn’t even interested in sex. He had rejected her. She would have gone to bed with him and he knew it. Was the thought of being with her so repulsive to him? Did he think that once they had slept together she would make demands on him? Demands that he clearly didn’t want. He had made that perfectly clear.

With a sinking heart she realised she was going to have to find a way to keep him at arm’s length. Clearly she couldn’t trust the responses of her own traitorous body. Could she persuade him to go back to Africa early? If financial support was all he was prepared to offer, she and Calum would be better off without him. Surely the department could find someone else, even at short notice? But the mere thought of Jamie being thousands of miles away sent her spirits plummeting. She didn’t know which would be worse—seeing him every day, yet not being able to have him in the only sense she truly wanted him, completely and wholly hers, or never seeing him at all. Damn him. Why did he have to come back and upset her neatly ordered life? Just when she’d thought she’d got over him.

As she stepped into the department, Lizzie thrust a cup of hot black coffee into her hand.

‘Thank you. You must be psychic,’ said Sarah. ‘How did you know it was the one thing I truly needed right at this moment?’

‘I’m getting to know you. You run better when you’re kept well fuelled. Besides, we have a young man with multiple injuries coming in in a few minutes. He was found at the bottom of the Clyde Bridge. No one knows what happened. Whether he fell, jumped or was pushed. Looks like we’re going to need all hands on deck. So drink up. It might be your last chance for a while.’

Sarah took a couple of sips of her coffee before setting it down and going to change into her theatre greens. Mentally she ran through the possible injuries that she might be faced with in the next few minutes. As she emerged from the changing room, she noticed that Karen was in some sort of heated discussion with a patient. Judging by the expression on her face, Karen’s usual good humour seemed to have deserted her, and Sarah thought she knew why.

‘Just give me a prescription for the pain, and I’ll be on my way,’ the patient shouted at Karen.

Sarah went over to them, noticing that the man was scruffily dressed and wore a woollen hat pulled low over his brow.

‘Can I help?’ she asked politely.

‘The doctor here won’t give me a prescription for my pain!’ the man said angrily

‘I’m sure if Dr Davidson here doesn’t feel you need a prescription then she is absolutely right, Mr…?’

‘Wilson. Kenny Wilson,’ The man replied truculently.

‘This is the second time Mr Wilson has been here in as many weeks.’ Karen said, unmistakably exasperated. ‘I’ve explained that we don’t give out strong painkillers for headaches, but he’s not happy with my decision.’

‘I assume he’s been thoroughly examined?’

‘Of course. There is absolutely nothing to be found. I’ve checked with one or two of the other A and E departments and he’s a regular attender there, too.’ She shot Sarah a significant look. Sarah knew what it meant. Every department had their share of drug-addicted patients. While Sarah sympathised with anyone whose life had hit rock bottom, an A and E department was not the place to get the help they needed.

Kenny took a step towards Sarah, so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath. It took all her nerve not to step back. ‘You doctors are all the same,’ he hissed.

‘I think it’s time you left,’ a low voice said from behind Sarah. ‘Now, are you going to leave quietly or shall I get Security to escort you off the premises?’

Kenny took one look at Jamie’s muscular frame and uncompromising expression before deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. He sidled towards the exit, grumbling volubly.

‘Thanks, Sarah, Jamie,’ said Karen. ‘I must admit I was relieved you came along when you did. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of patients waiting to see me.’ As she left them, Jamie looked at Sarah. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ she said. It was her turn to be annoyed. ‘I know you meant well, Jamie, but when are you going to realise I’m a big girl now and perfectly able to take care of myself and my staff?’

‘I’ve never been in any doubt that you can. You made that crystal clear again last night.’

‘Please, forget about last night, Jamie. I should never have…’ She searched for the right words. ‘Kissed you,’ she managed at last, although they both knew it had been much more than that. She would have gone to bed with him, if Jamie hadn’t pulled away. She suspected he knew that and cringed inwardly. ‘It’s just that you caught me at a vulnerable moment.’ Sarah said stiffly, her cheeks flushing at the memory.

‘It was my fault,’ Jamie answered. ‘But I’m not sure I want to forget about it entirely.’ He smiled lazily.

‘Well, it’s not going to happen again!’ Sarah retorted. ‘So can we, please, just stick to talking about work?’

‘Sarah I…’ Jamie started. ‘No, you’re right. It’s best if we stick to clinical subjects for the time being.’ Before Sarah could think about his words he went on, ‘You’ve heard we’re expecting a young man with multiple trauma?’ He paused as the wail of an ambulance got louder and then shut off abruptly. ‘Sounds like he’s just arrived. Come on. Let’s go.’

While the patient was being wheeled into Resus, the paramedics reeled off information on his status.

‘Twenty-four-year-old, name’s Tom Kennedy, according to his driving licence. Discovered unconscious at the foot of the Clyde Bridge half an hour ago by a member of the public. Has a GCS of 6, BP 90 over 45, pulse 125 and respirations 18 per minute. Bleeding extensively from a head wound, fractured right tibia and fibula, which have been stabilised. Bruising to abdomen.’ The room filled up with medical and nursing staff as they all gathered around the gurney where the patient lay.

‘OK,’ Sarah said, snapping on gloves. ‘Is someone stabilising his head and neck? Good. On my count of three remove the stretcher underneath him.’ Once the manoeuvre was completed with practised timing, Lizzie gently and expertly cut away the bloodied clothes from Tom.

The paramedic continued, ‘No morphine given due to his poor level of consciousness and respiratory distress. IV fluids given stat and second litre of saline almost through. Twenty-eight per cent Oxygen running at 6 litres via a trauma mask.’

Before Jamie put on the gown and gloves that one of the nursing staff held out for him he passed Sarah a pair of protective goggles. Sarah glanced around the room to ensure that all the staff were wearing theirs.

‘I’ll take care of his airway and head injury if that’s OK with you, Sarah?’ Jamie suggested, already preparing to insert an endotracheal tube into the man’s airway.

‘Fine. Keith and I will check out the rest of his injuries.’ Looking up briefly, Sarah turned to Elspeth, one of the older nurses who had worked in the department for years. ‘Call Theatre and let them know we might need them. Lizzie, can you—?’

But Lizzie had already anticipated her request and was moving towards the telephone. ‘Call X-Ray and arrange a head CT scan, chest and abdo x-rays, and page Orthopaedics—already on it!’

Dr Thompson placed the leads from the cardiac monitor onto Tom’s chest. As the Dinamap—the machine that measured blood pressure, oxygen saturation and pulse rate—alarmed, he called out, ‘BP dropping—80 over 40, pulse 130.’

‘OK.’ Sarah remained calm, her fingers deftly examining the abdomen and chest of the patient lying motionless in front of her. ‘Let’s get some more fluids into him while we’re waiting for blood to be cross-matched. A bag of Hartmann’s stat, please, Lizzie.’ Frowning slightly, Sarah placed her stethoscope on the left side of Tom’s chest.

‘Need a hand?’ Jamie asked, his eyes intent through his protective visor. ‘He’s intubated, airway patent and clear. His pupils are responding to light but nothing further to be done regarding his head injury until we get that scan.’

Sarah nodded at Jamie. ‘He’s got a left-sided tension pneumothorax—he needs a chest drain now! Elspeth, can you pass me a kit, please?’ Lizzie and Elspeth exchanged worried looks. They knew how serious this condition could be, and there could be other hidden injuries, too.

Swabbing the area over his left side with antiseptic to sterilise the skin, Sarah took the scalpel from Jamie with steady hands. Before she could make contact with the skin, however, the heart monitor emitted a warning bell.

‘He’s in AF!’ Keith called out urgently.

‘Carry on, Sarah, we’ll keep ventilating him,’ Jamie calmly responded, attaching an ambu-bag to the tube he had inserted earlier.

Too focused on her patient to be aware of the mounting tension in the room, she made the small incision into the intercostal space without hesitation. Glancing up she caught Jamie’s almost imperceptible nod of encouragement, both knowing how one wrong slip could be catastrophic. But there was no time to waste. They had to get the young man’s circulation going again and the insertion of the drain was crucial. Taking a long, thin plastic tube, she pushed it with an equal amount of strength and gentleness between Tom’s ribs and into his chest. Suddenly the tube filled with frothy red blood, pouring into the container that it was securely attached to on the floor. Immediately the heart monitor stopped its shrill warning and was replaced by the reassuring beeps that indicate a steady heart rhythm.

‘Right, folks, he’s stable. Let’s get him to Radiology for a CT scan to determine the extent of his head injury.’ As Sarah and Jamie rushed the gurney through the bay, Lizzie cleared their path, pushing the resus equipment trolley to one side and sweeping away the discarded debris of dressing packs and empty syringes scattered on the floor with her foot. They were just outside the swing doors of the X-ray department when they were intercepted by one of the triage staff nurses. ‘Mrs Kennedy, the patient’s mother, has arrived. Can one of you speak to her?’ she asked.

‘Off you go, Sarah. Keith and I will stay with Tom,’ Jamie offered.

‘Thanks. Staff Nurse, I’ll be along in a minute. In the meantime, can you put Mrs Kennedy in the relatives’ room, please?’

Sarah peeled off her gloves and removed her blood-splattered theatre gown, using the brief respite to compose herself. Breaking bad news to relatives was one aspect of her job she found extremely difficult, but at least this time she was confident Tom would survive his injuries. There was every chance he would make a full recovery, although there would be an anxious few hours ahead for all of them. Once Tom had recovered sufficiently, the police would wish to interview him. She wondered what tragic set of circumstances had led to Tom’s broken body being found at the foot of the bridge.

After leaving a tearful but grateful Mrs Kennedy a short time later, Sarah went to join Jamie in X-Ray. She found him in discussion with the radiologist, both studying the images displayed on the computer screen.

‘What’s the verdict?’ she asked, peering over Jamie’s shoulder.

He glanced back at her, a smile dimpling his cheek. ‘Good news—no fracture or evidence of brain swelling. In fact, he’s just beginning to regain consciousness. This is one lucky young man, wouldn’t you say, SJ?’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said. ‘He’ll be going to Theatre for the orthopods to set his leg, then hopefully High Dependency will have a bed for him.’ Suddenly the adrenaline of the past hour drained away and Sarah felt exhausted, and guessed that Jamie would be feeling the same way. Whatever her personal feelings, they were still professional colleagues who depended on one another. ‘Fancy a coffee?’ she offered. ‘I’ll make it this time, after I update his mother.’

‘Great. Give me ten while I brief the surgeons on Tom, and I’ll meet you in the staffroom.’

* * *

Sarah slumped in the saggy chair in the staffroom. She yawned. What she wouldn’t do for one completely uninterrupted night’s sleep. Lizzie came in and plonked herself down in the chair next to Sarah’s with a heavy sigh. Her normally cheerful face was drawn and a frown puckered her brow.

‘What it is Lizzie?’ Sarah asked, concerned. ‘Everything going all right for the wedding? With you and Stewart?’

‘Oh, the wedding!’ She shook her head dismissively. ‘No, the arrangements are going fine. Can’t wait for the honeymoon. Chance to put my feet up and get a long rest.’ Sarah shot her a mischievous look that brought spots of colour to Lizzie’s pale cheeks. ‘OK I’m looking forward to the honeymoon for other reasons, too. Stewart and I have hardly spent any time alone in the last month. There always seems to be somebody there, talking about arrangements. I’m beginning to wonder if there is life outside work and the wedding. And I thought I’d never get tired of planning my big day!’ She laughed, but then looked serious again. ‘No there’s something else. A work-related matter I need to discuss with you. And I’m afraid you’re not going to be happy when you hear what I have to say.’