Brought Together by Baby. Margaret McDonagh

wing adjacent to the main hospital. ‘But he’ll be across directly.’

      Unsettled, Gus spoke up. ‘Is there anything I can do to help, Robert?’

      ‘No!’

      Gus was taken aback by the shrill and sudden denial—even more so because it came from Laura. A flash of anguish in her own eyes, Kathleen hurried across to the girl, who was clearly distressed.

      ‘Take a break in the staffroom to get yourself together,’ the older woman advised, kind but firm. As Laura pushed back her chair and hurried away, Kathleen exchanged another pained glance with Robert. ‘I’ll talk to her when I’ve finished here.’

      ‘Of course,’ the consultant agreed.

      Before Gus could query Laura’s strange reaction, Robert laid a hand on his shoulder and drew him aside.

      ‘Gus …’ He paused and shook his head, concern and compassion evident in his eyes before his gaze strayed towards the entrance. The doors were open, allowing them to hear the first sounds of the approaching air ambulance. ‘Please wait for me in my office,’ Robert continued. The distinctive noise of the helicopter’s rotor blades increased as the aircraft descended onto the landing pad. Gus was aware of Robert’s hand tightening briefly on his shoulder before contact was withdrawn. ‘I’m sorry, Gus. I’ll come and talk with you in a few minutes.’

      The consultant was rushing through the department before Gus could ask what he was sorry for and what he wanted to talk about. As he made his way to the office his unease increased in unison with the strange buzz in the department. If Robert wasn’t going to reassign him, he needed to get back to Minors to see his share of the patients requiring attention. Either way, he didn’t want to be cooling his heels here for long.

      His thoughts took an abrupt change of direction when he saw Frazer McInnes enter the department at a run, his flight paramedic Rick Duncan at the other end of the stretcher. Both men were covered in blood and carrying IV lines in one hand while guiding the trolley with the other. And both looked drained, clearly shaken by the traumatic events they had witnessed at the accident site and on the flight to the hospital.

      ‘Clear the way!’ Frazer called, his voice rough and impatient.

      As Frazer, Rick, Robert and their entourage rushed down the corridor to the lifts, Gus offered up a plea for the baby’s survival. Moved by the tragedy, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his scrub trousers and paced the small office, too on edge to wait patiently. He was on the point of returning to Reception to question Kathleen when his boss returned.

      An inexplicable shiver of dread rippled through him at the uncharacteristically bleak expression in Robert’s eyes as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

      ‘Sit, please,’ he invited.

      Gus did as he was asked, but instead of moving round the desk to take his own chair Robert stood beside him, once more resting a hand on his shoulder. Rather than reassuring him, the gesture increased Gus’s unease. A dark premonition chilled his blood.

      ‘What is it, Robert? Have I done something wrong?’ he asked, unable to bear the electric silence another moment.

      ‘No. No, of course not,’ his boss responded, sounding weary and resigned. ‘Gus, there’s something I must tell you …’

      Holly Tait finished the scheduled observations and wrote the information on her six-year-old patient’s chart. The little girl had returned from Theatre less than twenty-four hours ago following an operation to remove her infected appendix. Understandably, she was still very sore. Holly checked the chart to see when the next medications were due, her disobedient gaze straying to the signature of the A&E doctor responsible for the girl’s admission.

      Gus Buchanan. Pain lanced through her, but Holly knew that hers, unlike her patient’s, was a pain no medicine could cure. She’d transferred from the A&E department to the Children’s Ward in January, hoping that removing herself from Gus’s presence would be the first step in the healing process. It hadn’t worked. Now it was June, and she still couldn’t get him, what he’d done, or the barrage of conflicting emotions out of her mind. Even reading his name or seeing his handwriting twisted the knife that pierced her heart. And it hurt as much as ever.

      Sensing she was being watched, Holly looked up and saw Sister Erica Sharpe’s formidable form standing in the ward’s office doorway. Erica beckoned her and Holly nodded her understanding. She hung the chart on the bed and ensured her young charge was comfortable before walking towards the office, wondering if they had a new admission to contend with. It had been a busy day, with several new patients coming in, and they had little space left for any more beds.

      As Holly approached Erica remained in the doorway, hands planted on ample hips. She could be anywhere between fifty and seventy years of age—no one knew, and asking was out of the question. Erica had been part of the hospital since its transformation from a small cottage hospital to the well-equipped regional infirmary it had become, growing over the years in proportion with the way Strathlochan itself had expanded.

      Erica had a fearsome reputation—Sharpe by name and, on occasion, sharp by nature—and even the most senior consultants had been known to quiver in their boots when on the receiving end of her displeasure. Student nurses approached her ward with awe and trepidation. Holly smiled, remembering her own scary first meeting with Erica. Several years on and she had huge respect for the woman who gave everything for her patients and under whose impressive bosom beat a heart of gold.

      ‘Come in, Holly,’ she invited, her sombre expression and the look in her eyes making Holly feel uneasy.

      Inside the office Holly faltered, surprised to see Gina Adriani, one of her closest friends, sitting there. A fellow staff nurse, Gina had worked with her in A&E before leaving the previous summer to take up a position at Strathlochan’s new multi-purpose drop-in centre. Just married and blissfully happy, today Gina looked uncharacteristically pensive and pale.

      ‘Hello! What are you doing here? Have you come to do some real work?’ Holly joked, trying to shake off a sudden sense of foreboding.

      ‘No, not that.’

      Gina didn’t return her smile and Holly’s apprehension increased. ‘What is it?’

      ‘Sit down, my dear,’ Erica advised, nudging a free chair closer to Gina’s.

      ‘What’s going on?’ Holly asked again, glad for the seat as her legs now felt too wobbly to hold her.

      Erica never called anyone ‘my dear’ unless there was bad news. Holly’s imagination ran wild and fear took hold. Had something happened to Seb, Gina’s husband? Or to their mutual friends Rico and Ruth?

      Before she could voice her anxiety Gina took her hand. ‘I wish there was some better way to tell you.’

      ‘Tell me what?’ Holly’s chest tightened as alarm increased. ‘Gina?’

      Her friend sucked in a breath. ‘There’s been a terrible road accident. Holly, it’s Julia. She’s been fatally injured.’

      Holly reeled, suddenly feeling as if she was dreaming. She groped for words, which at first would not come.

      ‘Wh-What about the baby?’ She somehow forced the question past the fear and shock that clogged her throat. ‘It’s not due until next month.’

      ‘Julia was brought in by air ambulance and is in Theatre now. A specialist team is doing everything possible to save the baby,’ Gina explained, but the words failed to quell the terror building within.

      ‘Oh, my God.’

      Holly sagged in the chair, her fingers tightening reflexively on Gina’s as Erica rested an arm around her shoulders. Both women were talking, but Holly didn’t hear a word: her heart was racing, every manic beat reverberating in her ears. As the horrific news sank in a range of mixed emotions and unanswered questions chased themselves through her head, and a cry of distress welled within her as she zeroed