, the fear in his tawny eyes,
blink, the blood in the creases of her knuckles.
When Shelley arrived she was alive with concern. ‘Why on earth didn’t you call an ambulance?’
‘I don’t know.’ Because the ambulance was too much like Sunday? ‘It’s much better now. Perhaps it’s just angina.’
Of course A &E was busy. It always was. She spoke to the triage nurse, filled in the form and took a seat in the shabby waiting area, all lumpy green gloss paint and scuffed linoleum. There were two dozen people on the chairs.
‘No point in you waiting,’ she told Shelley.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’m fine. Honestly. The pain’s all gone.’
Shelley took some persuading but they both knew enough about hospitals to realize it could be a long time before Fiona was seen. ‘Can you do me a favour, take my car home?’
‘Of course, and let me know what they say.’
She had nothing to do. Nothing to read. She passed the time examining her fellow casualties, trying to work out what accident had befallen them. Some were easy: the schoolboy in his PE kit with a makeshift sling and the elderly woman with a grazed knee complaining to all and sundry about the kerbs. But others had hidden traumas.
The time inched by. Patients were called through to the examination bays and others took their places. They would have brought Danny here. Through the other double doors straight into the resuscitation suite. And then to the mortuary.
‘Fiona Geary.’
She stood and followed the nurse to a bay. ‘You’ll know the drill,’ the woman joked. A reference to Fiona’s uniform. ‘You at St Mary’s?’ The maternity hospital was nearby.
‘Yes, on the community.’ Some of the midwives worked all their shifts in the hospital. The community midwives made the home visits before and after birth, carried out home deliveries, worked with women on the domino scheme, where they only went into hospital for the actual birth. Fiona preferred work in the community. There was more freedom and greater responsibility. Less intervention. The consultants held less sway.
The nurse handed Fiona the thermometer, which she tucked under her armpit. She tested her blood pressure. Both readings were a little high. ‘Any symptoms now?’
Fiona shook her head. ‘Just a bit tired, a bit dizzy.’
‘Any breathing trouble?’
‘No.’
The nurse checked through her form. No history of asthma, allergies, no pre-existing medical conditions. No regular prescriptions. Any family history of heart problems? Yes, her father. Fiona felt the prick of irritation. It was already all down there in black and white, she’d filled the form in today, did they think she’d developed diabetes or epilepsy in the meantime? She knew she was being unreasonable. She double-checked the same details with her own patients. She answered all the questions as reasonably as possible. The nurse left her for a few minutes and then a doctor appeared. The doctor looked at the form and listened to her heartbeat. Then she was sent back to reception to wait.