Carrying The Single Dad's Baby. Kate Hardy

had sung her praises. Beatrice was very clear when she was managing Resus; everyone knew what they needed to do, and she was completely approachable. Josh had said that one of the nurses hadn’t quite understood her instructions, the other day, and Beatrice had taken the time afterwards to go through the case, explaining exactly why she’d made certain decisions. And he really liked the way she was calm and kind to their patients.

      The more Daniel worked with her, the more he liked her.

      And, worse still, the more attracted he was to her. He couldn’t seem to get a grip and push the unwanted feelings aside. Instead, he found himself wondering how soft her hair would be against his skin, and how her arms would feel around him. How her mouth would feel against his own.

      For pity’s sake. He was thirty-four, not seventeen. He had responsibilities. He didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t keep wondering what it would be like to date Beatrice.

      If he didn’t manage to sort his head out, he thought grimly, he’d need to have a word with whoever was doing the roster next month, to make sure he and Beatrice weren’t working together.

      * * *

      Late on Thursday afternoon, Beatrice had to steel herself slightly when the paramedics brought in a woman who’d taken an overdose.

      ‘I brought her in for the same thing, a month ago,’ Dev, the lead paramedic, told Beatrice quietly. ‘And another team brought her in a fortnight ago.’

      ‘Three times in a month.’ Beatrice frowned. ‘I’ll check her notes to see if anyone’s referred her for counselling, but if they haven’t then I definitely want to bring the psych team in. She needs help with the root cause. We can’t just patch her up and send her home so she takes another overdose and comes back in again. That isn’t fair to anyone.’

      Dev spread his hands. ‘Mental health. You know the situation there as well as I do.’

      ‘Overstretched. I know.’ Beatrice sighed. ‘But I’ll push as much as I can for her. Thanks for your help, Dev.’

      She went over to the bed. ‘I’m Beatrice, and I’m part of the team looking after you today,’ she said to her patient. ‘May I call you Sally?’

      The young woman nodded.

      ‘The paramedics tell me you took an overdose of paracetamol.’

      Sally hunched her shoulders, and Beatrice sat down and took her hand. ‘I’m not here to judge you, Sally, I’m here to help you. But I do need to know how many tablets you took, when, and over how long a period, so I know the best way to look after you.’

      ‘A dozen tablets,’ Sally whispered. ‘An hour ago.’

      ‘What did you take them with?’ Beatrice asked, really hoping that alcohol wasn’t involved.

      ‘Water.’

      That was one good thing; she didn’t have to worry about complications from alcohol. ‘OK. Normally paracetamol’s safe to take as a painkiller, but if you take too much you can risk damaging your liver and your kidneys. I need to take some blood tests, and the results will tell me what the best treatment is for you. Is that OK?’

      Sally nodded, and Beatrice took the bloods. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or something while we’re waiting for the results?’

      Sally shook her head. ‘I’m all right.’

      ‘I’ll need to see some other patients while I’m waiting for the results, but I’ll be back very soon to see you,’ Beatrice said. ‘If you’re worried about anything, just press this buzzer to call one of us and we’ll come in to see you, OK?’

      Sally didn’t ask for help while Beatrice called the psych team and asked for an urgent referral, or while Beatrice checked a set of X-rays for Josh and dealt with a nasty gash on an elderly man’s arm where he’d slipped and knocked against a gatepost. But finally the blood test results came back, and Beatrice went into the cubicle where Sally was waiting quietly. The poor woman looked as if a huge weight was about to drop on her.

      ‘I’ve got the test results back,’ Beatrice said. ‘We do need to treat you, to stop any damage happening to your liver, so I’m going to give you a drug through a drip—that’s a line that goes straight into your vein. It means you’ll need to stay with us another day while we give you the drug. Is that OK with you?’

      Sally looked worried again. ‘I felt so bad, last time. I was sick everywhere.’

      ‘This is a different drug from the one you had last time. It’s a special trial, but I used it in my last hospital and it’s really good,’ Beatrice said. ‘It means you’re less likely to have side effects, like being sick or itching. Tomorrow we’ll do another blood test to see how you’re doing, and we’ll be able to let you go home if we’re happy that there’s no damage to your liver.’

      Sally bit her lip. ‘I’m so sorry.’

      Beatrice squeezed her hand. ‘You really don’t have to apologise. You’re not well and it’s my job to make you better.’

      ‘I know you’re all busy here and you should be saving lives that matter, not bothering with me.’

      ‘We are saving a life—yours,’ Beatrice said gently. ‘You’re important, too.’

      ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it.’

      ‘We all make mistakes.’ And Beatrice had made this particular one herself. She could still remember how low she’d felt when she’d opened the box of paracetamol and popped the tablets out of their foil packaging. How hopeless.

      ‘It seemed like the only way out.’

      Just as it had for Beatrice. ‘There’s always another way,’ she said, squeezing Sally’s hand again. ‘Though sometimes you need someone else to help you see it. Is there anyone we can call for you to let them know you’re here? Your family, a friend?’

      ‘Nobody.’

      Beatrice remembered that feeling, too. Once she was out of Resus and in cubicles, she hadn’t wanted the emergency staff to call her husband or her family, because she knew they’d blame themselves for not picking up on the signs. And she hadn’t wanted to burden any of her friends with how low she was feeling. She’d just been grateful that she hadn’t been treated in her own department so she hadn’t had the sheer embarrassment of having to face them all afterwards.

      ‘I just don’t want to be here,’ Sally said, her voice shaking.

      ‘I know, sweetheart, but I really can’t let you go until you’re better,’ Beatrice said, still holding her hand. ‘I need to be sure you’re not going to collapse with liver damage.’