The Doctor's Longed-for Bride

Frankie nodded. ‘My guess is he’s diabetic, and he’s got alcohol-induced hypoglycaemia. It probably didn’t help when he was involved in a fight. At least we know what we’re trying to cope with when the ambulancemen get here.’

A man from the watching crowd called out, ‘That’s right, Doc—he’s diabetic. Has to inject himself every day.’

‘Ah, yes, look at that, Corey—a pinprick on his thumb.’

Frankie turned the man’s hand towards Corey, who put a cushion from one of the chairs under Gary’s head and covered him with a rug the barman handed to her.

‘Is he in danger?’ asked the landlord looking anxiously at the figure on the floor.

‘If he’s not treated, he could be,’ admitted Frankie.

‘In what way? What can it do to him?’ asked the landlord. ‘I thought he’d just had a skinful.’

‘A diabetic who takes alcohol can suffer an unnatural surge of insulin, and that can absorb too much of the glucose in his blood. That affects the nervous system, which in turn could lead to brain damage,’ she explained.

‘Bloody hell,’ said the landlord. He gazed nervously at the youth and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. ‘Will he be all right, then?’

The sound of a siren whining down to silence came from outside and two policemen and a paramedic appeared at the door. The two girls exchanged relieved looks and Corey murmured, ‘The cavalry’s arrived, thank God. Once we’ve got some glucose into him he’ll improve.’

The paramedic strode over to the injured man and then looked at Frankie and Corey in surprise. ‘I thought I’d said goodbye to you two about an hour ago—after we brought in those RTA victims. Don’t you have a home to go to?’ He knelt down beside Frankie. ‘What’s happened to this gentleman?’

‘I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol-induced hypolglycaemia,’ said Frankie. ‘I suggest you give him fifty grams of glucose intravenously, and then you can take him back to hospital and get him in balance again. His name’s Gary Hemp.’

‘I’ll do a quick blood test with a Haemastix strip,’ said the paramedic, opening his medical bag. He withdrew a little blood from the patient’s arm and put a blob on the strip. ‘Yup—his blood sugar’s way down,’ he remarked. ‘Better get some glucagen into him.’

He took out a prepacked needle and phial of glucose, which he swiftly injected into the man. ‘Involved in a fight, was he? He’s got a cut lip…’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ shouted the other youth, now held by one of the policemen. ‘I told you, he suddenly went beserk—tried to kill me with a broken bottle, he did! I wasn’t doing anything to him at all, just talking about football,’ he added in an aggrieved voice.

‘He could very well have got aggressive just before he went down,’ murmured Frankie to the other policeman. ‘People who are out of balance with their insulin can sometimes become very hostile—change their character completely.’

Gradually the young man’s eyes flickered open and he looked in a bewildered way at the faces above him.

‘You’re all right, Gary—just had some imbalance with your insulin,’ said the paramedic. ‘Forget to take it today, did you? Don’t worry, son, we’re just going to take you to hospital to check you out.’

The youth moaned faintly. ‘What’s happened?’ he croaked as he was being stretchered out of the pub. The other youth’s details were taken down by the policeman. Gradually the onlookers drifted back to the bar, and the paramedic turned to Frankie and Corey as he picked up his medical bag.

‘I know you’re off duty,’ he said pleadingly, ‘but you couldn’t come back with us, could you? Just heard that there’s been a general call for more staff—a wall’s collapsed in the high street and there’s several people trapped. Some of the A and E staff have gone out to the scene.’

Corey groaned. ‘I was going to have a lovely bath, watch telly all evening and eat really unhealthy food…’

She looked enquiringly at Frankie, who shrugged and nodded. ‘Go on, then, tell them we’ll be there in a minute.’ After all, she thought bleakly, she wasn’t going to be doing anything else when she went home—not even making plans for a wedding any more.

* * *

Denniston Vale Infirmary was a sprawling Victorian Hospital with modern additional wings tacked onto it in random fashion, their pockmarked walls contrasting oddly with the magnificent stonework of the original building. It stood on a hill at the edge of Denniston town, an imposing clock tower rising from the centre of the building and impressive stone steps leading up to the front entrance, although the ambulances went round the back where the casualty department was situated.

As Frankie’s car swung round the corner to the staff car park, they could see three ambulances lined up, with patients being lifted out on trolleys then being pushed through to the unit. Two police cars were parked to the side of the ambulances, their blue lights still flashing, and a harassed-looking plump nurse with a clipboard was watching the proceedings.

‘Looks a biggy,’ groaned Corey. ‘My feet are killing me already at the thought of it.’

‘Come on,’ said Frankie. ‘You won’t notice your feet once you get going.’

‘Don’t you believe it,’ retorted Corey. ‘And look who’s on duty—fusspot Sister Kenney. That’s going to make my day.’

She jumped out of the car and they began to trot towards the entrance.

‘What did I tell you?’ she murmured, as the nurse stepped towards them and wrote something on the clipboard. ‘Evening, Sister Kenney.’

The woman nodded to her, a brief smile replacing her worried frown for a minute. ‘Thank you for coming in—I’m really grateful.’ She waved vaguely towards the bustle of ambulances and stretchers. ‘As you can see, we’re very much stretched at the moment. We’ve got Mr Burton from Orthopaedics helping to deal with the injuries from the collapsed wall and I’ve managed to persuade the senior nursing officer to loan us some nurses from Medical.’

‘That must have taken some doing,’ murmured Frankie.

Sister Kenney allowed herself a small triumphant grin. ‘It’s about time they helped us out. Now, please, would you look at a woman with chest pains in the end cubicle? She’s a Mrs Jepson, just come in while all this brouhaha was going on, and all three theatres and the emergency room are in use. She needs her vital signs monitored—I’ll leave you to do that, Dr Lovatt.’

It took just a few minutes to scramble into their hospital greens and make their way to the large central area surrounded by cubicles. A large woman lying propped up on a bed in the end cubicle looked at Frankie and Corey with frightened eyes. She had the familiar expression of many patients who found themselves in a totally alien situation with people they didn’t know, surrounded by sights and sounds they probably associated more with television dramas than their own life. She was clutching the hand of a small man sitting by her side.

‘Am I having a heart attack?’ she asked tremulously. ‘I’ve got these awful pains, and my husband thinks it could be a myocardial….’ She looked helplessly at the small man.

‘Myocardial infarction,’ he said rather smugly.

The woman’s voice had started to rise on the edge of panic, her mouth trembling, and Frankie put a reassuring hand on her arm, trying to calm her patient and reduce her stress levels. As usual, she found herself using well-worn platitudes, which nevertheless were soothing in their familiarity, comforting phrases that the woman would have known all her life.

‘It’s Mrs Jepson, isn’t it?’ she said kindly. ‘Now, please, don’t worry—I want you to try and relax. We’re going to run a series of tests that will help to tell us what’s causing these pains. It could be a variety of things and we mustn’t jump to conclusions. But you’re in the right place to find these things out.’

The small man nodded sagely. ‘That’s what I told her, Doctor. I said it could also be indigestion—she had chips and sausages just an hour ago, and an apple pie, didn’t you, love?’

‘So you are Mr Jepson?’ asked Corey, attaching a monitor to the woman’s arm that ran a trace of the patient’s blood oxygen sats and blood pressure on a screen.

‘I am indeed,’ said the man. ‘We were going to the cinema—just paid for the tickets as a matter of fact when she was took bad.’

‘This came on quite suddenly, then?’ asked Frankie, watching the screen monitor.

The woman shifted restlessly. ‘Well, I’ve not been feeling quite myself for a few days—had this horrible pain near my heart.’ She indicated an area in the centre of her chest. ‘But it’s got worse and worse this evening.’

Mr Jepson looked at her indignantly. ‘You never said, Norma. I didn’t know you’d been feeling off…’

‘Didn’t want to worry you,’ his wife said, rather sullenly.

‘Well, your blood pressure’s OK,’ said Frankie. ‘Have you had an operation lately, or an injury that’s kept you in bed?’

Mrs Jepson shook her head, and her husband leaned forward eagerly. ‘You thinking of a blood clot on the lungs, Doctor? Could it be that?’

His wife gave a start of horror and Frankie’s eyes met Corey’s in a brief exasperated glance. Mr Jepson seemed intent on alarming his wife as much as possible, and making a nervous patient even more apprehensive. If he wanted to send his wife’s blood pressure sky high, he was going the best way about it, thought Frankie, hiding her irritation by smiling winningly at him.

‘We’ll be some time examining your wife, so why don’t you go and have a coffee from the machine in the waiting room while you can? When you come back, we may have more news to tell you.’

The man looked hesitant. ‘Surely it’s better that I stay and keep Norma calm?’

‘It’ll be best to sit with your wife when we’ve finished our assessment. These cubicles are small and it gets a little crowded in here, as you can see…’

The man stumped off unwillingly, only turning back at the door to comment to his wife, ‘If it’s a heart attack, you’ll be in here for days, you know.’

Norma looked mournfully at Frankie. ‘We were going on holiday next week—looks like we’ll have to cancel it if I’m going to be here for ages.’

‘You may be feeling much better soon,’ said Corey brightly. ‘Wait until we’ve had the results of your blood tests…’

‘And we’ll run a cardiac trace to check your heart,’ added Frankie.

The phone rang at the main nurses’ station and Corey left to answer it. Frankie leant forward to listen to the woman’s chest through her stethoscope. When she put the stethoscope on the area of skin below her breasts, Mrs Jepson flinched.

‘Don’t touch me there—it’s absolute agony, that!’ she gasped.

Frankie looked more closely at the area she’d just touched and frowned. ‘Did you know you’ve got a rash here…quite a distinctive rash?’

‘There wasn’t anything there yesterday.’

Frankie pulled the overhead light so that it focussed on the red weal across the woman’s chest. ‘You know, Mrs Jepson,’ she said slowly, ‘I think that this could be a clue to the mystery of your pain.’

Mrs Jepson gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘It’s my heart, isn’t it?’ she said in a quiet voice, as if bracing herself for very bad news. ‘Have you heard something odd through that instrument?’

‘Your heart and chest sounded fine—it’s what I can see that’s quite illuminating. You’ve got a band of blistery little spots across your chest, which have probably just come out. Does it feel itchy?’

‘A little. It’s painful when you touch that area, and there’s a horrible pain deep into the chest….’

The door opened behind Frankie and a deep voice said, ‘Was someone wanting a heart trace in here?’

Frankie glanced towards the tall figure who’d entered the cubicle, then her mouth dropped as she did a double-take at the tall man with rimless glasses and russet hair who stood in front of her. Was she imagining things or was it really the familiar figure of Jack Herrick?

‘My God…Jack!’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

Jack stared back at Frankie, also stunned. ‘I might ask you the same thing,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were working at the infirmary…’

‘I have been for six months…You must be the new registrar that Corey told me about.’

Mrs Jepson looked from one doctor to the other, interest making her forget her discomfort for the moment.

‘You two old friends, then?’ she asked.

Jack smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Jepson. As you can see, we’re both a bit surprised to see each other. And yes, we go back quite a long way. Now, first things first—I believe you’ve been having chest pains…’

‘I’d like you to take a look at this rash, Dr Herrick,’ said Frankie, her mind still buzzing with the surprise of seeing him. ‘I’d be interested to know what you think.’

He inspected the reddened area closely for a moment, then looked across at Frankie. ‘Not much doubt about it—a good example of Herpes zoster, I would say.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Mrs Jepson.

‘I suppose you had chickenpox when you were a child?’

She looked puzzled. ‘Yes. All my brothers and sisters had it at the same time—Mum nearly went mad!’

‘Then your past has come back to haunt you, I think. The virus has been reactivated, and all the signs point to it being shingles…’

‘Shingles?’ repeated Mrs Jepson, gazing at both doctors in astonishment.

‘That’s right,’ said Frankie. ‘The pain in your body is caused by the shingles. In fact, the virus is affecting the nerve endings—that’s why it’s so sore. The rash often doesn’t appear for a few days.’

The woman lay back on the pillows. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Is that all it is?’

Frankie smiled. ‘It’s not very nice, I’m afraid, but it’s better than having a heart attack! Mind you, I still think we need to run these tests on you. We don’t want to assume that just because you’ve got shingles there aren’t any other problems.’

‘That’s one thing my Bert never thought of!’ Mrs Jepson looked rather triumphantly at Frankie and Jack, clearly pleased to have put one over on her husband. ‘I wonder what’s brought on shingles, then? I’ve not been near anyone with chickenpox…’

‘It doesn’t work that way. Often it’s because you’ve been under stress for some reason and perhaps your immune system’s been compromised—or possibly because you’ve been on steroid treatment.’

‘That makes sense,’ said Mrs Jepson gloomily. ‘I’ve had that much trouble with our son—he’s been in trouble with the police, taking drugs, joy-riding cars and I don’t know what else. I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’

Jack nodded sympathetically. ‘That sort of thing could trigger an attack. We could try you on an antiviral drug which might reduce the severity of the active stage and minimise nerve damage.’

Frankie broke open a sterile needle pack and nodded, adding, ‘In the meantime, we’ll make sure that this is the only problem you have. Dr Herrick will run a trace on your heart when I’ve taken some blood for tests.’

She wound a cuff round the patient’s arm to make it easier to find a vein. Jack watched as she completed the task and she felt his gaze on her. She wondered if he felt any embarrassment at all, bumping into her like this. Was he going to explain why he’d just vanished into thin air and had he any idea how much he’d hurt her? Not, she conceded wryly, as much as his precious brother-in-law had hurt her—but it had been damned rude to vanish without explanation. Recently men seemed to have treated her pretty badly, she reflected grimly.

Her patient’s plaintive voice brought Frankie guiltily back to the matter in hand. ‘I hope I don’t faint, Doctor—I have a horror of needles. Have you nearly finished yet? I can’t bear to look at what you’re doing.’

Frankie drew some blood into the needle and smiled reassuringly at Mrs Jepson. ‘There we go! All done now. We’ll soon get the tests back.’

Mrs Jepson lay back on the pillows and looked up at them both. ‘Thank goodness that’s over! And fancy me having shingles! I can’t wait to tell Bert.’

Frankie moved over to the shelf to pick up the phials for the blood. She brushed past Jack and flicked him a caustic glance. ‘I was led to believe you’d moved miles away from here when you left,’ she said in a low voice.

Was there slight embarrassment in his eyes when they met hers? ‘That’s true. I went down to London, but things didn’t work out quite how I hoped. However, it looks like we’ll be working together again—it’ll seem like old times,’ he commented smilingly.

Not quite like old times, thought Frankie. She’d thought that Jack and she had had a free and easy relationship before—now she couldn’t help feeling resentful at working again with a colleague who had brushed off their friendship so casually. Now another dynamic had entered the picture: she was no longer engaged to Damian. She and Jack did not have that connection any more, and perhaps it was better that way—she did not want to be reminded of Damian, who had finished with her as casually as he would a boring book, with no explanation. That part of her life was over and, as far as she was concerned working with Jack Herrick again was going to be just another job.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT HOUR was manic, the pressure on Casualty building up with the usual emergency cases as well as those involved in the collapsed wall. It was ten o’clock before the situation eased and Frankie and Corey met in the staffroom.

‘That’s three fractures, an overdose, a scalding and a drunk who nearly suffocated on his own vomit, topped off with Sister Kenney telling me to help that dozy porter, Tim, move six oxygen cylinders from the passage. I’ve had enough!’ Corey flopped dramatically back on the sofa. ‘Next time we’re asked to do overtime, they can get someone else!’

Frankie smiled. ‘Go on—you know you love it really. Now, get that coffee down you.’

She handed Corey a mug. Corey took a sip and sighed. ‘Even this instant sludge tastes good at the moment. By the way, have you bumped into knockout Jack Herrick yet, our new registrar? I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing…’

‘It turns out that he was the man I used to work with at St Mary’s,’ said Frankie. ‘It was a surprise, seeing him again.’ She looked ruefully at Corey. ‘He also happens to be Damian’s brother-in-law.’

‘Ouch! How bizarre is that!’ said Corey in surprise. ‘So does he know what that rat has done to you?’

‘I haven’t got round to it yet. I suppose I’ll have to tell him later. It was through Jack that I met Damian originally.’

‘Well, I hope Jack will be suitably horrified.’ Corey looked speculatively at Frankie. ‘I guess you’ll know a bit about this gorgeous Jack, won’t you? I suppose he’s married with about four kids.’

‘He’s a widower with one little girl. His wife, Damian’s sister, was killed in a car accident two years ago, but—’

‘I knew there’d be a “but,”’ said Corey with a grimace.

‘I did hear he was engaged and I don’t know why he’s come back to this area.’

‘Just my luck. Ah, well, my own lovely warm bed beckons.’ Corey hauled herself out of the sofa. ‘See you Monday, Frankie. Sleep well.’

She went out as Sister Kenney bustled in, her blue uniform straining over her plump bosom and the usual harassed expression on her face. ‘Is there any coffee in that pot? I must have something before I start filing my admissions register in the office. I hope we’re on top of things now.’

Frankie looked at her sympathetically. People tended to make fun of Sister Kenney and her fussy manner, but she was a well-organised woman who tried to do her best for the staff and the patients. Frankie handed her a mug.

‘Do you need me any more?’ she asked.

‘No. You get off now—and thanks for coming in. Even with our new registrar, we couldn’t have coped without you. Have you met him, by the way? He’s called Jack Herrick and I must say I’m favourably impressed so far.’

‘I used to work with him at my last job. And yes, he’ll be good to have on the team.’

Sister raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? That’s excellent news. You’ll know each other’s methods, then.’

As if on cue, the door was pushed open and Jack walked in. Sister Kenney gave him a wide smile.

‘I believe you know each other already…I didn’t realise that you and Frankie used to be colleagues.’ She shot a look at her watch. ‘I’m sure she can fill you in on any queries you have—but I’ll have to get on now and tell the nurses we borrowed from Medical that they can finish now.’

She marched out and left Frankie and Jack alone. Jack lifted the coffee-pot.

‘Want a cup?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks, I’m going home now and I don’t want any caffeine to keep me awake.’

He looked at her levelly, then said slowly, ‘It’s good to see you Frankie—a lovely surprise.’

Frankie nodded without smiling. She wasn’t going to go overboard at seeing him again just yet. Jack was another man who hadn’t behaved all that well towards her, albeit in a much milder way than Damian had.

‘Yes, I thought I’d never see you again when you vanished into thin air,’ she said pointedly. ‘You left before I could ask you anything. I…I wondered what had happened to make you leave so abruptly.’

He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry about that, Frankie. I should have spoken to you before I left and I know I owe you an explanation.’

‘You don’t have to tell me why you went,’ said Frankie frostily. ‘It was just a little impersonal, leaving a note pinned to my locker to tell me you were leaving. I…I thought we were good friends. I think I deserved more than that.’ She paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘On the other hand, was it something I did? Perhaps I upset you in some way.’

He winced slightly, then he said vehemently, ‘Of course it wasn’t your fault. For heaven’s sake, you were my…well, my best friend. I feel ashamed that I hurt you, but…’ He paused for a moment, as if thinking of how to phrase his next sentence. ‘Well, the thing is, something happened—something that made me realise I had to leave immediately. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do in the world was offend you, of all people—someone who’s going to be related to me as well.’

Frankie bit her lip, that cold feeling of rejection sweeping over her again. She could see a short-term future of repeating the same information over and over again to those who’d known she’d been engaged to Damian, but there was no point in beating about the bush. The truth had to come out some time, so why not now?

‘Actually, there’s something you might as well know…’

He looked at her enquiringly, one eyebrow raised.

‘Damian and I aren’t engaged any more, Jack.’ She said it baldly, almost defiantly, not willing to show how devastated she felt.

An astounded expression crossed his face, and he put his mug of coffee down on the worktop so forcefully that the liquid slopped over the rim. ‘What? You…you’ve broken up? When did this happen? I thought you were going to organise the wedding with him when he came over just before I left for London.’

Frankie’s voice hardened. ‘As a matter of fact, I received the letter earlier today, if you must know. He doesn’t want to get married now. And don’t ask me why—I’ve no idea.’

‘It’s unbelievable,’ Jack said slowly. ‘You and he…well, you seemed like the perfect couple, so well matched. I thought you two would go on for ever…’

‘So did I, Jack, so did I.’ Frankie couldn’t help the sadness reflected in her expression, but after a short silence she said brusquely, ‘But it’s over now—no possibility of getting back together. He’s let me down. I could never trust him again, whatever the reason is that he wanted to be free of me.’

It was odd how numb she felt, as if the full shock of her broken engagement had yet to hit her properly. She looked at Jack challengingly. ‘Would you have said he was untrustworthy? You’ve known him for many years.’

Jack shook his head in bewilderment. ‘He’s incredibly fearless—got me out of several sticky situations. In fact, he saved my life once when we were white-water rafting—at great risk to his own life. From that point of view I guess I found him very reliable. But this… I can’t understand it. He told me he was mad about you.’