Never Say Never (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 3) (7 page)

I
t was
late one Friday afternoon and Olivia and Peter were grabbing a quick coffee and a few moments together at the cafeteria in the UCD Arts Building.

“What do you fancy doing tonight?” Peter asked, his dark eyes even more striking than usual in the afternoon light.

“Don’t know if I fancy going out at all,” she said with a grimace. “I’ve still got loads to do on this paper and, even though I don’t feel like it, I’ll really have to make the effort. You go out, though. I’m sure the others will be up for it.”

“Nah, I’ll stay in with you and ferry food and coffee to you like a good househusband,” he said, eyes twinkling.

She and Peter had recently moved into a small apartment in Clonskeagh and they were still very much in honeymoon mode. Initially, Olivia did have her reservations about moving in with him, especially as they were both so busy, but so far things couldn’t have been better. Far from being a distraction to her studies, Peter often was a great help.

“Well, you might get bored with that very quickly.” she teased, draining her coffee mug. “Seriously though, if you want to meet the others …” Then, she trailed off, as something at the table just behind them caught her eye.

“No, I’m not in the mood tonight, I think I’ll …”

Olivia barely heard his reply, and her heart began to thump in a heightened state of alert as she tried to take in what was happening. Sitting at the table behind them was a petite auburn-haired girl who seemed to be having some sort of difficulty breathing. Olivia’s first thought was that she must be choking on something, judging by her dangerously red complexion and the fact that she was seriously struggling for breath. But, strangely, at the same time she was groping for something on the floor beneath the table, but in her panicked state was unable to get to it. The girl was on her own at the table, and all around them no one other than Olivia seemed to notice that something was wrong.

“Peter, look,” she said, getting up from her seat.

“What?” Peter looked around and immediately jumped up and went towards the girl.

“Are you OK? Can I help you?” Olivia asked her, feeling rather stupid, as it was pretty obvious she was far from OK. But then she realized that, no, she wasn’t choking – in fact the girl seemed to be having some kind of seizure.

Then before she knew it, Peter had cleared a space behind them and had swiftly placed the girl in the recovery position on the floor. Well done, Olivia thought, impressed. At least somebody knew what to do. Olivia wouldn’t have had the first clue. At this stage, people had begun to gather and stare.

But soon it was clear to both of them that lying the girl on her side was making little if any difference, as by now she was desperate for breath. Olivia’s heart pounded. What was wrong with her?

“Get her an ambulance or something.” Olivia called out to one of the counter staff, who was standing there shell-shocked along with everyone else in the room – the students and staff of the café unused to such drama on a normally quiet Friday afternoon.

“Damn,” Peter said, looking around wildly, as if trying to discover the root of the problem He grabbed the girl’s wrist. “Her pulse is going ten to the dozen so she must be having some kind of attack. Olivia, quick, check her handbag, see if there’s an inhaler or something in there.”

Handbag? Spying the bag under the table, Olivia realised that this must have been what the girl was trying to reach earlier. But because the handle was caught under a leg of the chair, the poor thing’s frantic attempts had been in vain. So, Olivia deduced, there had to be an inhaler or something in there – something that could help.

Moving as quickly as she could and trying to control her own rising panic, Olivia emptied the bag’s contents onto the table. Hairbrush, wallet, make-up, a pen and notebook, some lip-balm, lots of old bus tickets … but nothing resembling an inhaler.

“Peter, there’s nothing here,” Olivia wailed, full of dread. On the floor the girl was still struggling. Olivia knew this wasn’t a normal fainting attack: the girl’s face was full of colour, way too much colour and Olivia had fainted herself enough times to know that when you fainted, you lost blood to the head, not gained it.

“There has to be something,” Peter said, clearly panicked now. He stood up and started frantically checking through the contents of the girl’s bag, going through her books, checking if maybe there might be something written down somewhere. Then he stopped suddenly, as if realizing something. “Damn.”

“What, what?” Olivia asked, and then frowned as Peter’s gaze rested on the remains of the girl’s lunch – a barely-touched chicken bap. “Food poisoning?” she offered hurriedly.

“More like an allergic reaction.” Peter was again urgently searching through the girl’s things.

“Reaction? To what?” Olivia urged him, her heart now beating almost as quickly as the poor girl’s, she suspected.

“Not sure yet, but this should help,” he said, immediately seizing what Olivia had dismissed as an oversized ink pen, but which she could see now was actually a narrow tube holding a syringe of some sort.

Lying on her side on the floor, her eyes wide, the girl was now gesturing with an arm as best she could. She seemed to be pointing at her leg.

And then, before Olivia could take in what was happening, Peter had broken open the packaging and was back on the ground alongside the girl. He shook the syringe and squirted a little liquid out in a way that Olivia had seen millions of times on TV but had never thought she would witness in a real-life situation like this. Then, he sat the girl up and carefully placed the syringe in her hand, helping her guide it towards the correct spot – somewhere on her calf. Then, and Olivia didn’t know how he did it, but somehow – under the girl’s panicked direction – Peter began to crudely administer the injection. After what seemed like an age, the girl stopped shaking but within a few minutes more her colour had returned to normal.

Panic over.

“What was it?” Olivia asked Peter later, once the ambulance arrived from nearby St Vincent’s, and the girl had been safely loaded into it. Still shaken from the drama of it all, the two of them had forgone the remaining afternoon’s lectures and had stayed drinking very strong coffee in the cafeteria. “What was in the syringe?”

“Adrenaline, according to the paramedics,” Peter stated flatly. “Apparently allergy sufferers carry supplies around with them, in case this kind of thing happens.”

“What
did
happen?” Olivia asked him. She had barely heard what the paramedics had to say, although she did overhear something about some kind of shock.

“She was allergic to something in that sandwich,” Peter said. “She took one bite, had a serious reaction and began to go into shock – anaphylactic shock, the paramedic said.”

“Anaphylactic shock, from an ordinary chicken bap?” Olivia couldn’t believe that something so innocuous could have such an effect. She had heard the term ‘anaphylactic shock’ before and knew that this was something that could happen to people who were allergic to penicillin or some anaesthetic drugs. Strangely, she also recalled the term being used in that film
My Girl
after poor Macaulay Culkin’s character was stung by bees.

“Wow Peter, she could have gone unconscious or died or something, couldn’t she?” she said, more to herself than to him.

He nodded. “They reckon that if she hadn’t got the adrenaline in time, she would almost certainly have gone into a coma.” Peter shrugged. “Yes, I suppose she could have died.”

“Oh, wow,” Olivia said, her eyes widening as the realisation hit her. She put down her coffee cup and lovingly squeezed his arm. “Well done, love – you actually saved that girl’s life.”

Peter shrugged again. “I suppose I did,” he said, with a proud smile.

A
week later
, the girl was waiting for Olivia outside one of her lectures.

“Hi there,” Olivia said, recognising her immediately. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, thanks to you and your um …” she looked around, as if expecting to see Peter appear behind her. She seemed quite shy, Olivia thought. Her blue eyes were darting here and there and she appeared almost afraid to look directly at Olivia.

“Oh, it was all due to Peter,” Olivia said easily. “I hadn’t a clue what to do. I’m really glad you’re OK.”

The girl smiled, as if unsure what to say.

Olivia looked at her watch. “Listen, I don’t have another lecture till two – do you have time for a coffee?” When the girl looked startled, Olivia grimaced. “Oh, sorry – can you drink coffee?”

The girl’s nervous expression finally broke into a smile, and she fell into step beside Olivia. “No, I can drink coffee – it’s just a few things I have to be careful with.”

“Really? Like what?” Olivia was fascinated. Imagine having to live your life not knowing whether something you eat could kill you? How did she manage? “Oh, I’m Olivia, by the way,” she said, realising that she didn’t yet know the girl’s name.

“Robin.” She smiled softly. “And I suppose I just wanted to thank you and your friend for helping me the other day. If you hadn’t found my adrenaline kit …” She trailed off as they reached the cafeteria.

“Scene of the crime, eh?” Olivia said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It was obvious the poor girl was shy and very embarrassed about her attack. Again, her gaze kept shooting here and there as if people would recognise her as the silly girl who made a scene here over a week ago. Well, Olivia decided, if she had her way, Robin would have forgotten all about it by the time their little chat was over.

“So, what can I get you?” she asked as they stood at the counter. “Tea, coffee … and oh, good, they have those chocolate brownies back in again – want one?”

Robin looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, chocolate is a big no-no most of the time,” she said, apologetically. “Anything with possible traces of peanuts in it is a big no-no.”

The poor thing, Olivia thought, trying to imagine not being able to eat
chocolate
of all things. No wonder she was so shy – she was probably used to being made feel like the odd one out. “Probably better off,” she said with a grimace, putting the brownie back on the shelf and, in an attempt to relax Robin a little added, “No wonder you’re so slim.”

“Not by choice, unfortunately.” Robin gave a little laugh, and Olivia delighted in this small achievement.

They took a table near the window where they could look out at the comings and goings in the Arts Building.

“So listen,” Robin began quietly, “I really don’t know how to thank you enough. Most people don’t know what to do … some of them think I’m coming down off ecstasy or something.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s mortifying sometimes.”

Olivia shook her head. “Ah, some people just don’t know how to react to these things,” she said, sitting forward conspiratorially. “When I was in primary school, one of my classmates was epileptic. As you can imagine, at our age, we were afraid of our lives of her, but at the same time, we all wanted to be her. Imagine, getting all that attention. We thought it was great.”

Robin looked at her, a faint smile playing about her lips. “I used to hate being the odd one out in school like that, and I was so frustrated about not being able to eat what I wanted.”

Olivia nodded, eager to hear more.

“And then of course, being a child and forgetting how much something could affect you, I used to be a bit brazen. I’d take a bite out of a bar of chocolate, just to see what happened, just to see if my mother was only kidding me.” She smiled. “The funny thing was, the only time I got attention from the other kids was when I did something like that – it was the only time they’d notice me. So I tended to do it a lot.” Robin shook her head. “Most of them were terrified of me, but to be honest there was more reason for me to be afraid of them.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, you know the way kids swap lunches and share sweets and things at lunchtime?”

Olivia nodded, understanding immediately. Many’s the time she had swapped her mother’s boring ham sandwiches for Louise Rooney’s altogether more exciting tuna and mayo ones. And Mrs Rooney always gave Louise orange squash, instead of milk like Olivia’s mother gave her. If Robin had to stay away from foods that could kill her and yet she innocently swapped lunches with her classmates …

“I could never do that,” Robin went on. “So, as you can imagine, I wasn’t the most popular child in school.”

“Kids don’t understand, I suppose.”

“At that age, I didn’t really understand either, which was why I kept eating the wrong things.” She gave a lopsided smile. “So, understandably, the kids were freaked out, the teachers nearly had heart attacks, and my mother was furious. In the end, I spent most of my primary school lunchtimes in class on my own. It’s different these days though, and they’ve banned nuts in most schools now.”

How sad it all was, Olivia thought, yet how easy to imagine. As a child, knowing she was different and trying to prove herself to the other kids meant that Robin was a danger to herself. Yet being kept inside at playtime obviously didn’t help her social skills or her friendships. No wonder she was so ill at ease with herself, and so embarrassed about the attack.

“Well, you must have been the most intelligent one in the school, then.” Olivia said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Robin smiled and rolled her eyes. “Another reason for my classmates to tease me,” she laughed.

“So tell me, what’s it like now? How do you manage now – with the nut thing?”

“It’s not too bad,” Robin replied. “I still can’t touch nuts, or anything that might contain them. As for last week, the doctor reckons I reacted to the oil that they used to coat the bap – it may have been some derivative of peanut oil.”

“Something you couldn’t possible know,” Olivia said, beginning to realise just how dangerous the allergy could be.

Robin nodded. “There’s lots of hidden stuff,” she said. “I have to avoid some packaged foods like the plague, as they’re often processed in the same factory or on the same line as products containing nuts. Same with most standard chocolate bars.”