Knight on the Children's Ward (12 page)

‘H
I
, A
NNIKA
?'

‘Yes.'

‘I'm ringing for a favour.' Now that he understood her a little bit, he could smile at her brusqueness. ‘A work favour.'

‘What is it?'

‘I've got this two-year-old with asthma. Emergency is steaming. There's some poor guy in the next bed after an MVA, and the kid's getting upset.'

‘Bring him up, then.'

‘The bed's not ready. Caroline says you need an hour,' Ross explained. ‘Look, can you ring Housekeeping and ask them…?'

‘Just bring him up,' Annika said. ‘I'll get the bed ready. Caroline is on her break. It can be my mistake.'

‘You'll get told off.'

‘I'm sure I will survive.'

‘It will be
my
mistake,' Ross said. ‘Just make sure the bed's made—that would be great.' He paused for a moment. ‘I need another favour.'

‘Yes?'

‘This one isn't about work.'

‘What is it?'

‘I'd like…' He was about to say he'd like to talk, but Ross stopped himself. ‘I'd like to spend some time with you.'

The silence was long.

‘Tonight,' Ross said.

And still there was silence.

‘You don't have to talk,' he elaborated. ‘We can listen to music…wave to each other…' He thought he heard a small laugh. ‘I just want to spend some time with you.'

‘I'm busy on the ward at the moment. I don't have time to make a decision.'

She was like no one he had ever met, and she intrigued him.

She would not be railroaded, would not give one bit of herself that she didn't want to, and he admired her for that. It also brought him strange comfort, because when she had been with him she had therefore wanted to be there—the passionate woman that he had held had been Annika.

He had wanted more than she was prepared to give.

And now he was ready to wait. However long it took for her to trust him.

‘He can go up…' Ross said to one of the emergency nurses. ‘I've cleared it with the ward.'

The emergency nurse looked dubious, as well she might. The children's ward had made it perfectly clear that it would be an hour at least, but the resuscitation area was busy, with doctors running in to deal with the patient from the car accident, neurologists, anaesthetists… The two-year-old was getting more and more distressed.

He could hear the noise from behind the curtains and gave the babe's mum a reassuring smile, blocking the
gap in the curtains just a touch with his body as the toddler and his mother where wheeled out.

‘Thanks so much for this.'

‘No problem.' He gave her a small grimace. ‘They might be a bit put out on the ward when you arrive, but don't take it personally—he's better up there than down here.'

 

He'd left his stethoscope on the trolley and went over to retrieve it. He considered walking up to the paediatric ward to take the flak, just in case Annika was about to get told off on his account, but then he smiled.

Annika could take it,
would
take it—she had her own priorities, and a blast from Caroline… The smile froze on his face, everything stilled as he heard a colleague's voice from behind the curtain.

‘Kolovsky, Aleksi…'

Ross could hear a swooshing sound in his ears as he pictured again the mangled, bloodied body that had been rapidly wheeled past twenty minutes or so ago. His legs felt like cotton wool as he walked back across the resus unit and parted the curtains.

The patient's face had been cleaned up a bit, though Ross wasn't sure he would have recognised him had he not heard his name, but, yes, it was him.

His good friend Iosef's identical twin.

Annika's brother.

‘Aleksi…' His voice was a croak and he had to clear it before he continued. ‘Aleksi Kolovsky.'

‘His sister works here, doesn't she?' A nurse glanced up. ‘Annika? One of the students…?'

He stood and watched for a few moments, more stunned than inquisitive. He watched as the powerful,
arrogant man he had met just the once extended his arms, indicative of a serious head injury, and grunted with each breath. The anaesthetist had decided to intubate, but just before he did, Ross went over.

‘I'm going to get Annika for you,' he said, ‘and you're going to be okay, Aleksi.'

T
HE
hospital grapevine worked quickly, and Ross was aware not just that he had to let Annika know, but his good friend Iosef too.

The Kolovskys were famous. It would be breaking news soon—not just on the television and the internet, but the paramedics and emergency personnel would be talking, and both Iosef and his wife Annie worked in another emergency department across the city.

As he walked he scrolled through his phone. He didn't have Annie's number, only Iosef's, but, deciding it would be better for his friend to hear it from his wife, he called their emergency department. He found out that Iosef was just being informed and would be there to see Aleksi for himself shortly.

Ross moved faster, walked along the long corridor at a brisk pace, bracing himself for Annika's reaction and wondering what it would be.

He spoke briefly with Caroline, informed her of the news he would be imparting, and then headed down to room eleven.

‘He's settled.' She was checking the asthma baby's
oxygen saturation; he was sleeping now, his mother by his side.

‘That's good,' Ross said. ‘Annika, could I have a word, please?'

‘Of course.' She nodded to the mother and stepped outside. ‘There was no trouble with Caroline—the cot was prepared…'

‘Thanks for that. Would you mind coming into my office?'

Her eyes were suddenly wary.

‘It's a private matter.'

‘Then it can wait till after work,' Annika said.

‘No, it's not about that…' He blew out a breath, wondered if perhaps he should have taken up Caroline's suggestion and let her be the one to tell Annika, but, no, he wanted it to come from him—however little he knew her, still he knew her best. ‘Just come into my office, please, Annika.'

She did as told and stood, ignoring the seat he offered, so he stood too.

‘There was a patient brought into Emergency,' Ross said. ‘After a motor vehicle accident. It's Aleksi, Annika.'

‘Is he alive?'

‘Yes.' Ross cleared his throat. ‘He's unconscious; he has multiple injuries and is still being assessed.' She was pale, but then she was always pale. She was calm, but then she was mostly calm. She betrayed so little emotion, and for Ross it was the hardest part of telling her. She just took it—she didn't reach out, didn't express alarm. It was almost as if she expected pain.

‘I'll tell Caroline that I need to…'

‘She knows,' Ross said. ‘I'll take you down there now.'

Annika only wavered for a second. ‘Iosef…'

‘He's been informed and is on his way.'

They walked to Emergency. There was no small talk. He briefed her on the little he knew and they walked in relative silence. A nurse took them to a small interview room and they were told to wait there.

‘Could I see my brother?' Annika asked.

‘Not at this stage,' the nurse said. ‘The trauma team are trying to stabilise him. As soon as we know more, a doctor will be in to speak with you.'

‘Thank you.'

And then came Iosef and Annie, and Nina, their mother, who was hysterical. Iosef and Annika just sat there, backs straight, and waited as more and more Kolovskys arrived.

And still there was no news.

A doctor briefly popped in to ask the same questions as a nurse had ten minutes previously—was there any previous medical history that was relevant? Had Aleksi been involved in any other accidents or had any illnesses?

‘Nothing!' Nina shouted. ‘He is fit; he is strong. This is his first time sick—please, I need to see my son.'

And then they went back to waiting.

‘Do
we
keep relatives waiting as long as this?' Iosef's patience was finally running out. ‘Do they
know
I'm an emergency consultant?'

‘I'll ask again,' Annie said.

‘I'll come with you.' Ross went with her.

‘God!' Annie said, once they were outside, blowing her dark curls to the sky as she let out a long breath. ‘I can't stand it in there—I can't stand seeing Iosef…' She started to cry, and all Ross could do was pull a paper towel out of the dispenser and watch as she blew her nose. ‘It was the same when his dad died. You know he's bleeding inside, but he just won't say…'

‘He will,' Ross said. ‘Maybe later—to you.'

‘I know.' Annie nodded and forced a smile. ‘I should warn you. They're bloody hard work, that family.'

‘But worth it, I bet?' Ross said. Then he crossed a line—and he would only do it once. He looked at Annie, and stared till she looked back at him. ‘Annika isn't a lightweight.'

‘I know she's not.' Annie blushed.

‘That family
is
bloody hard work, and Annika's right in the thick of it…'

He watched her cheeks redden further.

‘Imagine if you woke up and found out that the grass was red and not green.'

‘I don't get you.'

‘Imagine if you'd been told all your life how lucky you were, how spoiled and indulged and precious you were, how grateful you should be.'

Annie just frowned.

‘Grateful for what?' Ross demanded, and he wasn't sure if he and Annika would make it, because at any moment she was likely to turn tail and run, so he took the opportunity to tell Annie. ‘Go and tell your doctor husband, my good friend, to look up emotional abuse. I can't stand the board at the hospital, but maybe on this they're right—there are charities closer to home. Tell him to wake up and see what's been going on with his own sister.'

He watched her face pale.

‘They controlled what she ate, how she spoke, what she thought—have you ever stopped to think how hard it must be to break away from that?'

‘We try to help!'

‘Not good enough,' Ross said. ‘Try harder.'

T
HEY
could get no information at the nurses' station, so, before Iosef did, Ross pulled rank. He sent Annie back to the relatives' room and walked into resus, past the huddle around the bed, and up to Seb, the emergency consultant, who was also a friend. He was carefully examining X-ray films.

‘How's it looking?'

‘Not great,' Seb said, ‘but there's no brain haemorrhage It's very swollen, though, and it's going to be a while till we know if there's brain damage.'

He was bringing up film after film.

‘Fractured sternum, couple of ribs…' Seb was scanning the X-rays and he looked over to Ross, who was scanning them too, looking at the fractures, some old, some new. ‘His left leg's a mess, but his pelvis and right leg look clear…' Seb said. The X-rays were just a little harder to read than most. There was an old fracture on Aleksi's right femur, and when he pulled up the chest film Ross looked again and there were a few old fractures there too.

‘Any skull fracture?'

‘One,' Seb said. ‘But, again, it's old.'

‘How old?'

‘Not sure—there's lots of calcification… The mum says he's never been in hospital. Poor bastard.' Seb cleared his throat. ‘Twenty years ago I'd have been calling you.'

‘And Social Services,' Ross said, his lips white. ‘What happens when it's all these years on?'

‘Look, he could have been in an accident they don't know about…' But these fractures were old, and in a child they would have caused huge alarm. ‘Let's get him through this first,' Seb said. ‘I'll come and talk to the family.'

Nina sobbed through it; the aunts were despairing too. Iosef and Annika just sat there.

Seb was tactful, careful and thorough. He mentioned almost in passing that there were a couple of old injuries, and Nina said he had been in a lot of fights recently, but Seb said no, some looked older. And Iosef remembered a time his brother was ill, the time he came off his bike…

Nina remembered then what had happened.

‘Oh, yes…' she said, but her English was suddenly poor, and an aunt had to translate for her.

‘Just before the long summer holidays one year he had a nasty tumble. His leg…' she gestured ‘…his head. But it was nothing too serious.'

Iosef excused himself for some air, and Annika looked at her hands, sometimes at the door, and once or twice at Ross. When he went and sat beside her he gave her hand a little squeeze, and when he started to remove it she held it back. She kept holding it till they moved Aleksi up to ICU.

‘Levander's flying over from England,' Iosef said, as he clicked off his phone in yet another waiting room.

‘He moved there when he got married,' Annika explained. ‘That is when Aleksi took over the company.'

Her face was as white as chalk, Ross noted. When she came out from seeing her brother, he saw her fingers go to her temples.

‘Can you take me home?'

‘Of course.'

‘Will you tell my mother for me?'

‘Of course,' Ross said, though he wasn't particularly looking forward to it. He turned to Nina. ‘Annika's not feeling great; I'm going to take her home…'

Nina shot up from her seat. ‘You need to be here—for your brother.'

‘I am here for my brother,' Annika said. ‘But the doctor said it is going to be at least forty-eight hours.'

‘If he gets worse…'

‘I have said everything I need to to him,' Annika said, and suddenly her eyes held a challenge. ‘Have you?'

‘You should stay.'

‘I can't.'

She was so white he thought she might faint, and he put his arm around her.

‘Can you give them the phone number?' she said.

He frowned.

‘Your phone number at the farm—my phone battery's flat.'

‘I've got Ross's number,' Iosef said, and he gave his sister a small hug. ‘Look after her,' he said to Ross.

‘I will.'

Ah, but Nina hadn't finished, because Nina hadn't yet got her way. ‘If you had any respect for my daughter you would not flaunt this in front of her own mother.'

‘I have
so
much respect for your daughter.' It was all
he could say, the only way he could respond and remain civil, and it was also true. He had so much respect for Annika—and never more so than now.

A few hours in her mother's company was enough for him.

Annika had had a lifetime.

He took her to his car, held her hair when she threw up in the bin, and then stopped at the all-night chemist for headache tablet and a cold drink too. He promised himself as they drove home in silence that he would never question her, never ask for more than he needed to know, and that if she didn't trust him, then that was okay.

He trusted himself. For the first time he trusted himself with a woman. Trusted that he would do the right thing by her, always, and that one day, he was sure, she would see it.