One Night in Emergency. Carol Marinelli

out on her feelings for Mary Byrne the woman, but if ever Eleanor made it into an emergency room at the grand old age of ninety-four she hoped there would be an equivalent of Mary Byrne there to look after her. For though Eleanor had looked after a few terminal patients, though she had worked alongside a lot of nurses, no one held a candle to the way Mary gently fussed over the frail elderly woman, chatting softly to Emily as if they were old friends as they turned her onto her other side to relieve the pressure from her emaciated hips, gently stroking her forehead as the old lady whimpered in pain.

      ‘It’s OK, Miss Nugent,’ Eleanor said softly. ‘I know it’s uncomfortable while we move you, but you’ll feel a lot more comfortable once we’ve settled you.’

      A tiny nod indicated a response and as a frail thin hand peeped out from under the sheet, Eleanor took it and gave it a gentle squeeze.

      ‘Do you have any pain, Miss Nugent?’

      Another nod was punctuated by a grimace. ‘Em.’

      ‘You like to be called Em?’ Eleanor checked, stroking the frail skin beneath her fingers. ‘Then that’s what we’ll call you. My name’s Eleanor.’

      ‘Give her hair a brush,’ Mary instructed, rummaging through Emily’s bag and pulling out a brush. ‘While I go and find someone to check…’ She paused for a moment, taking the brush herself and running it through the straggly hair. ‘Miss Nugent, I mean Em,’ she said softly into the elderly women’s ear, ‘Sister and I are just going to get you some medicine that will make you more comfortable.’

      Eleanor almost had to run to keep up with Mary’s brisk strides, but she was walking on air, thrilled that far from the dressing down she had expected Mary finally seemed to be coming around.

      ‘OK, you need to use your swipe card to gain access,’ Mary instructed needlessly. Eleanor had checked plenty of drugs in her week in Emergency, just not the controlled ones, but Mary, it would seem, couldn’t pass up any chance for a quick lecture. ‘And it pays to look over your shoulder before you go in—there can be a few undesirables hanging around just waiting to get in here.’ A loud tut came out of her pursed lips as they pushed open the door and stepped inside. ‘For the love of God! Would you believe that her medical registrar has written in his notes that he wants her to have morphine, yet he hasn’t written up an order?’

      ‘Do you want me to page him,’ Eleanor offered, but Mary shook her head.

      ‘He’ll be starting his ward round now, it will be ages till he comes back down.’ She shook her head again. ‘I’ll have to ask one of our doctors to do it, which isn’t really fair on them, given Miss Nugent’s status. They’ll need to examine her and go through all the notes, which will take for ever. Oh, poor Miss Nugent.’ As she pulled open the drug-room door Eleanor went to follow, but instead ducked back in as Mary’s tone took on a distinctly friendlier note. ‘Rory! The very man who can help.’

      ‘What’s the problem?’

      Eleanor heard him before she saw him, cringing behind the door as Mary patiently explained the problem. ‘The med reg will be doing his rounds and the poor lady’s in distress. I don’t want her to be prodded and poked just for the sake of it.’

      Eleanor had rather hoped her next glimpse of him would have been from a safe distance, that somehow she could have blushed unnoticed from afar, but instead six feet four of dark-suited, heavily aftershaved, damp-haired, masculine beauty squeezed himself into the drug room and gave her the briefest of nods.

      ‘Good morning, Sister.’

      ‘Morning,’ Eleanor croaked.

      ‘Could I see the notes, please?’

      Her hand was shaking so much as she passed them to him, she was practically fanning him, but Rory didn’t seem to notice, taking them with a murmur of thanks and then reading them through carefully. If he’d looked gorgeous in jeans and a T-shirt, he looked divine in a suit, those sexy dark blond curls combed back smoothly now, and first impressions clearly counted for nothing because Rory Hunter up close and personal looked every inch the consultant. He had an authoritative air, a distinguished look about him, nothing like the tousled man who had lain on the gurney just over a week previously.

      But it wasn’t just his hunk status that was causing a tremor to ripple through Eleanor. As senior as Mary and Rory were, Eleanor wasn’t quite sure how she’d react if Rory just wrote up the morphine without laying eyes on the patient. It was all very well for Mary to call in a favour, all very well for Rory to trust in her, but as junior as she was it was still Eleanor’s responsibility, if she were to sign her name in the drug book, to assure that due care had been given.

      ‘I’ll need to see her,’ he said finally, and Eleanor let out a relieved sigh. ‘I’ll do my best not to upset her, though. Can one of you give me a hand?’

      ‘Eleanor will go with you.’ Mary beamed. ‘And thank you for this, Rory, I know it’s not your problem.’

      ‘If it’s in my department it’s my problem.’ Rory shrugged, nodding to Eleanor to follow him.

      It was the longest walk of Eleanor’s life. Apologies bobbed on her tongue, but she bit them back. Clearly Rory wanted to pretend the whole embarrassing incident hadn’t happened, which suited her just fine.

      ‘It won’t take long.’ Rory gave a brief on-off smile as they reached the cubicle and, utterly unable to look at him, Eleanor gave a small nod. ‘Is everything all right, Sister?’

      ‘Fine,’ Eleanor croaked.

      ‘You do understand why I need to examine her?’

      She did but, given a sudden dry throat and a face a darker shade of purple, even a simple ‘yes’ was impossible at the moment and a rather unconvincing nod was the only response she could manage, putting her hand up to pull the curtain back, wanting to just get inside. But Rory had other ideas, calling her back and addressing her sharply.

      ‘While morphine will certainly make Miss Nugent more comfortable, it will also compromise her level of consciousness and her breathing.’ Rory’s eyes were boring into her as Eleanor stared down at her hands. ‘Now, I know it’s not ideal that I have to examine her again, and I know it must be rather annoying for you to have to walk all the way from the drug cupboard and then back again, but for the record, Sister, I’m not prepared to write up a strong injection like morphine without having first seen the patient.’

      ‘Mr Hunter.’ Somehow she found her voice, somehow she managed to tear her eyes from her hands and look up at him, if not into his eyes at least in general direction of his face. Uncomfortable she may be, facing him, but Rory Hunter’s biting sarcasm needed to be addressed. They mightn’t have got off to the best start the week before last, she might have come across as the worst nurse in the living memory, but his hint at laziness was unjust and unfair. ‘I have no problem with you examining Miss Nugent. In fact, I was thinking back in the drug room that had you just written up morphine for Mary, I would have refused to give it. I most certainly wouldn’t be happy giving a strong drug to a patient as sick as this one, prescribed by a doctor who hadn’t even laid eyes on her.’

      ‘Good,’ Rory replied crisply.

      ‘And the inference that I somehow resent making two trips to the drug room is unfair.’

      ‘Then I apologise.’

      ‘Oh.’ Eleanor blinked at him.

      ‘You seemed a bit uptight. I assumed that was the reason.’

      ‘Well, it wasn’t.’

      ‘Clearly.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Now, let’s have a look at the patient.’

      Any grievances were left firmly at the cubicle’s entrance. Rory Hunter’s bedside manner was impeccable. Politely he introduced himself to Em, his huge hands gently closing around her frail wrist as he located the flickering pulse, before pulling his stethoscope out of his pocket, even rubbing the bulb to warm it before listening to her