Emergency--A Marriage Worth Keeping Read online

  ‘Do you think he’s putting it on?’ Isla asked, speaking for the first time, glad the conversation was moving back to Jamie.

  ‘Not the first time,’ Sav answered Isla, though his eyes never left Heath. ‘When he first presented he was clearly having an asthma attack. We kept him here for six hours and he was started on a reducing dose of prednisolone. However, the next time he came in, apart from a slight cough on exertion, Jamie appeared to be enjoying the theatre of it all. Surely by now you know that for me to write something like that in my notes I’m more than confident of my findings.’

  Heath gave a tiny, grudging nod.

  ‘Now, if you don’t mind, Heath, I’d like to have a look at Jamie before I again speak to his parents.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Heath responded, tight-lipped.

  ‘Do you want me to come?’ Isla offered, but Sav shook his head.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ He started to go, then changed his mind, and it was Isla’s cheeks flaming as she suppressed a smile, knowing before he even said it what was about to come next. But, Isla conceded as Sav aimed below the belt, in this instance his rather sarcastic humour was undoubtedly merited. ‘Actually, you’d better come, just in case Miss Symons uses any long words I may not understand.’

  Sav’s examination was just as thorough as Heath’s had been, but his manner was much more laid-back, a sharp contrast to Jamie’s anxious parents and teacher, who hovered nervously in the background.

  ‘Isla.’ Sav looked up and smiled. ‘Could you, please, take Jamie’s relatives to the interview room? I just want to have a quick chat with him and then I’ll be along.’

  ‘He might get upset if we leave,’ Mrs Chappell said, and even though Sav’s smile stayed in place his response was unequivocal. ‘I shan’t be long.’

  The reluctant trio headed to the interview room and Isla hesitated as the rather overbearing Miss Symons pushed open the door, clearly assuming she should be present.

  ‘Perhaps Mr Ramirez will want to talk to Jamie’s parents alone,’ Isla suggested as tactfully as she could. ‘There’s a coffee machine in the waiting room or you could go to the kiosk—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Mrs Chappell said quickly. ‘I don’t have a problem with Miss Symons being present.’

  Mr Chappell’s frown told Isla there was a problem, but after a moment’s hesitation he gave a resigned nod and followed the two women into the interview room, sitting uncomfortably as they chatted away about Jamie’s episode that morning.

  Isla felt sorry for him.

  Felt his exclusion.

  It was a relief when Sav finally appeared.

  ‘First of all…’ he gave a brief smile but it had an official ring to it as he sat down and immediately commanded the situation ‘…I believe Miss Symons felt I was rather dismissive of Jamie’s symptoms when I saw him last week.’ His accent was very pronounced but his articulation was perfect as he stared directly at the teacher, who shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

  ‘You were just so relaxed, I just didn’t feel you had grasped…’

  Sav shook his head, turning his attention back to the parents. ‘I take asthma very seriously. If I appeared relaxed, that was for Jamie’s benefit. The very last thing an anxious child needs is an anxious doctor.’

  ‘Or mother.’ It was the first time Mr Chappell had spoken, and even though he’d only said two words they had been laced with bitterness.

  ‘So it’s my fault, is it?’ Mrs Chappell hissed.

  ‘Well, it certainly isn’t my fault! I haven’t been allowed near him since we separated.’

  ‘You were the one who had an affair,’ Mrs Chappell retorted. ‘You’re the one who signed yourself off from this family when you went with that tart.’

  Even Miss Symons, who’d been begging to be let in, seemed to want out now. The atmosphere in the room was so exquisitely uncomfortable Isla felt as if she were in a sauna, and it dawned on her that she’d almost forgotten this part of nursing…

  Forgotten the unblinkered view into other people’s lives nursing permitted, forgotten that it wasn’t just the nursing aspect that made Emergency so interesting but the roller-coaster ride of emotion you embarked on every single day when you crossed the threshold of the ambulance bay.

  ‘When did you last see your son, Mr Chappell?’ Only Sav appeared completely at ease, supremely in control as he guided the family through the minefield of emotion.

  ‘I haven’t been allowed to see him,’ Mr Chappell answered nastily, but the venom in his voice was aimed at his wife. ‘I haven’t been allowed near him for six weeks now.’

  ‘But you have seen him,’ Sav pointed out.

  ‘I haven’t,’ Mr Chappell retorted angrily. ‘The only bloody time I get near him is when he’s sick…’ His voice trailed off and Isla looked up, blinking as the penny dropped, watching everyone’s reactions as realization started to hit home.

  ‘Jamie is a clever boy,’ Sav said finally, when the silence had gone on long enough. ‘He’s worked out that the only way he can see his father is to have an asthma attack.’

  ‘But he was sick,’ Miss Symons refuted. ‘He could hardly breathe!’

  ‘You’re a teacher, Miss Symons.’ Sav gave a tactful smile. ‘You were quite right to call an ambulance, and if it happens again, I don’t expect you to hesitate because of what’s been said in this room. It is not a teacher’s job to diagnose her charges, and neither should it be. If a child is struggling to breathe, you have to call an ambulance. However…’ his gaze was sterner now as he addressed the parents ‘…I would strongly suggest that, whatever problems you two are having, you come to some sort of arrangement where access visits are concerned. Unless Jamie’s father is placing him in danger…’

  ‘I’m not,’ Mr Chappell broke in.

  ‘Unless,’ Sav said again, ‘his father is placing him in danger, Jamie needs to see him. Jamie needs to know that just because his parents have separated, it doesn’t mean he has lost his father.’

  Mrs Chappell gave a small nod, clearly shocked at the turn of events. ‘I never thought…’ She gave a helpless shrug. ‘I mean, I thought the asthma was because of what his father had done, that the stress of the separation—’

  ‘Children are amazingly resilient,’ Sav said gently. ‘A divorce isn’t going to effect Jamie’s health if it is handled properly. As long as he feels safe, as long as he knows that he has two parents who love him, two parents he can see, I’m sure he’ll be OK.’

  For the first time Mrs Chappell looked over at her husband, confusion, pain, guilt flickering in her eyes.

  ‘I never intended…’ she started, then shook her head when she couldn’t go on.

  ‘Neither did I.’ Mr Chappell’s voice was gruff, but it was loaded with emotion.

  Maybe, Isla thought, maybe there was a chance that somehow they might even make it. ‘Can I see him, Debbie?’

  ‘Of course.’ Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and even Miss Symons took her cue and stood up to leave, but Sav halted her.

  ‘It’s important you remember what I said. If Jamie or any student appears to be having an asthma attack, you have to call an ambulance.’

  ‘I will, and thank you, Doctor.’ She gave a small nod and then slipped out of the room.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Mrs Chappell’s voice had lost the rather terse ring, accepting with shaking hands the handkerchief her husband handed to her. ‘Should I take him home, tell him he can see his father…?’

  ‘I think,’ Sav said slowly, ‘given the circumstances, that Jamie should be admitted. I want to be as certain as I can be that it isn’t his asthma that is causing these attacks. If I’m right, I think that will help to give you the confidence to deal with this. And,’ he added, ‘I also think you two need some time alone to talk, away from Jamie.’

  ‘I suppose you’ll throw in a social worker for good measure.’ Mr Chappell’s dry joke brought a smile from Sav.

  ‘Of course.’ His smile dimmed, delivering
as only Sav could a mixture of compassion and brutal honesty. ‘You two really do need to get your act together, for Jamie’s sake.’

  ‘And we will.’ On rather shaky legs Debbie Chappell stood up. ‘I’d better go and see him.’ She gave an embarrassed shrug and turned to wait for her husband. ‘I mean, we’d better go and see him.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll make it?’

  Sav’s voice echoed her own thoughts when they were finally alone.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Isla said thoughtfully. ‘It looks to me like there’s still a lot of love there.’ She also gave an embarrassed shrug, realizing with internal horror that she’d repeated her own solicitor’s words. ‘But, then, what would I know?’ Glancing at her watch, she let out a small yelp. ‘I was supposed to be off duty five minutes ago.’

  ‘There’s no rush.’ Sav gave an easy smile. ‘You’ve still got half an hour till the boys finish school.’

  ‘It’s just…’ Isla started, but didn’t elaborate. She’d been hoping to dash to the shops and grab something quick and easy for dinner before she picked the boys up. Preferably something that would look and taste fabulous as well, just to prove to Sav that she really could do it all. But there was nothing quick or easy about taking the twins shopping, especially when they were hot and thirsty after a day at school.

  ‘Don’t worry about dinner.’ Again he seemed to read her mind. ‘Why don’t you give the kids something easy and I’ll grab a curry for us on the way home?’

  ‘Sav, you don’t have to,’ Isla started, but he didn’t let her finish.

  ‘I want to.’ He stood up and suddenly the tiny shabby interview room seemed infinitely smaller, the delicious scent that filled the bathroom every morning, the bedroom every night, impinging on the workplace, giddy in its effect. The man she’d always loved was suddenly here again, pinning her with his eyes, melting her with his words, making every last thing suddenly OK again. ‘You’ve been working, so the last thing you need is to go home and cook. Get the twins fed and to bed then have a nice long bath.’ He gave that slow lazy smile that was for her eyes only. ‘Maybe you could open a bottle of something nice and I’ll see to dinner.’

  She nodded dumbly, breathing him in as he stepped closer. And even though it was out of bounds, even if this was the workplace, the rules mattered not a scrap as he pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers, moulding her burning flesh with a hunger that was mutual. She tasted him, revelling in him, because even if she’d kissed him before, even if they’d made love through this long lonely time, right here, right now it was different. This was nothing about comfort, nothing about familiarity and everything about passion, a passion that drenched every pore as her body dissolved into his. He dwarfed her with his height, his tongue cool and sharp as it explored the hollows of her throat, the rough scratch of his chin as he buried his face deeper, desire blazing in his eyes when finally he pulled away.

  ‘We’ll never be like that, will we?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like the Chappells.’ There was an urgency in his voice that tore at her soul. ‘Too bloody blind to see what’s in front of us, too proud and too messed up to fight for what we’ve got.

  ‘And we’ve got so much, Isla.’

  ‘Sav?’ Her hand dusted his cheek, capturing the haughty face in her palm, forcing him to look at her, ‘I love you,’ she choked. ‘I just can’t stand to see you hurting so much, can’t stand seeing you in so much pain and knowing that you won’t let me help.’

  ‘He’s gone, Isla.’ Tears swum in those proud, dignified eyes. ‘Nothing can make that better. Nothing.’

  And it wasn’t much. In fact, it was barely nothing at all. But it was the closest he’d come to admitting his pain, the closest he’d ever let her in, and for Isla it was enough, that tiny glimpse enough to sustain her through whatever lay ahead.

  ‘You were right to come back to work, Isla.’ He stared down at her. ‘And I’m sorry I was opposed to it. I just…’ His voice trailed off but Isla pushed for more.

  ‘Just what, Sav?’

  ‘I was scared for you,’ he said softly. ‘I still am. I know how hard it can be sometimes, how easy it is to compare, how things you see here can bring it all back.’

  Isla closed her eyes. If only he’d told her this before, if only he’d shared his reservations with her. Instead, she’d assumed it had been his male pride that had been holding her back from resuming her career, when all this time he’d been trying to protect her.

  ‘I’m OK, Sav.’ Her voice was shaky but her resolve was strong. ‘I know coming back to work might be difficult at times, but it can’t be as hard as staying at home.’

  ‘I can see that now,’ Sav said softly, letting her go regretfully as his pager shrilled in his pocket. He quickly turned it off.

  ‘I’d better go.’ Smiling up at him, Isla headed for the door, stunned, pleased, amazed at the change in him, the change in them. She’d gone back to work so she could end her marriage, yet it would appear it was the one thing that might just end up saving it.

  ‘No cooking,’ Sav reminded her, his hand closing around hers as she reached for the doorhandle. ‘No talking either,’ he said gruffly, closing his eyes as he held her one last time before she left to pick up the boys. He buried his head in her hair and inhaled deeply, dragging her deeper into him. ‘At least, not about the big stuff. I need you tonight, Isla, I need it to be about us.’

  And she understood, understood perhaps more than Sav did.

  Doctor, nurse, daughter, son, parent, friend…

  They were all of those.

  But tonight they needed to be lovers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘CAN we stay up till Dad gets home?’ Luke asked, ever the optimist, despite Isla’s frantic efforts to get the twins shepherded into bed.

  ‘Daddy might be very late,’ Isla answered, mentally crossing her fingers as she did so. ‘You can see him in the morning. Now, come on—bed.’

  ‘But it’s Friday,’ Harry pointed out, his truculent face appearing at the bathroom door, and not even a mass of toothpaste-induced bubbles could hide the pursed lips as he eyed his mother suspiciously. ‘We always get to stay up late on Friday.’

  ‘I know.’ Taking a deep breath, Isla tried to keep her voice light. ‘But you’ve had a busy week, what with Mummy going back to work and everything. And you know that you’ll have a late night tomorrow at Nanny’s…’

  ‘But it’s Friday,’ Harry insisted, and Isla mentally threw the child-rearing books out of the window, deciding there and then that this particular seven-year-old needed a good dose of honesty.

  ‘Yes, it’s Friday, Harry, but Mum and Dad need some time alone together.’ She watched as Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Mum and Dad want to have some grown-up time alone!’

  ‘Sexy.’ Luke giggled and Harry stared at her, clearly appalled.

  ‘No,’ Isla said evenly, swallowing her own giggle. ‘It’s way better than that, it’s called romance. I’m going to have a frantic clean-up of your Lego that’s all over the living-room floor and then, instead of cooking, I’m going to have a nice bath and hopefully your dad, when he’s filling up with petrol, will buy me some pretty flowers and a decent DVD that doesn’t have a single crime scene or a futuristic robot in sight, and while we’re watching it we’ll eat a curry that I haven’t cooked.’

  ‘What’s romantic about that?’ Harry huffed.

  ‘Plenty.’ Isla grinned. ‘And I only hope when the two of you are six feet five and filling up your cars with petrol, you’ll remember this conversation and stop to buy flowers for whoever it is that’s waiting for you at home.’

  Taking an inordinate amount of time to rinse his mouth, finally Harry looked up.

  ‘If we promise to be quiet, can we read?’

  ‘Where are they?’ Sav asked, raising his eyebrows at the amazingly quiet and tidy house. Soft music was coming from the CD player, candles were flickering at the table as a slightly breathless Isla took the white
take-away bags from him and clipped through to the kitchen in unfamiliar high heels.

  ‘Pretending to be asleep,’ Isla answered over her shoulder, impossibly shy all of a sudden. Which was ridiculous, she scolded herself as Sav peeled off his jacket and loosened his tie. They’d been married for nine years, for heaven’s sake, shared more curries than she could count, and even though their marriage wasn’t exactly picture perfect, they still made love, so why on earth did she feel like a virgin on her first date?

  ‘I’ll open some wine,’ Sav offered, but Isla gestured to the two glasses on the bench, her lipstick gracing one of the rims. Despite her head start, it had done nothing to steady her nerves, and her hands were shaking as she spooned the rice onto plates and attempted to scoop the chicken jalfrezi into the centre.

  ‘Try and get some on the plate,’ Sav teased, taking over with hands that were perfectly steady, oblivious to the utter frenzy his wife was in.

  Or maybe not?

  ‘You look nice.’ He ran an approving eye over her pale grey dress, her newly washed hair, falling in a cloudy mass around her creamy shoulders, a face that had been way too pale for way too long now, younger, prettier somehow, with two spots of colour burning on her cheeks, those delicious eyes glittering as she tried and failed to look back at him.

  And she almost shrugged, almost dismissed his compliment, but, feeling the weight of his stare, instead she dragged her eyes to his, her throat constricting as she witnessed at first-hand the utter adoration that blazed there. ‘I wanted to look nice,’ Isla admitted softly. ‘For you.’

  ‘Oh, God, Isla.’

  His voice was a low rasp, a deep, almost guttural moan as he crossed the tiny space between them, pushed her against the kitchen bench, devoured her with hungry lips, his tongue forcing her lips apart, his hands running over the swell of her breasts, his arousal fierce and urgent pressing against the hollow of her stomach. It matched her own need, translated perfectly the confusing, scary but glorious emotions that were flooding back all of a sudden. That he wanted her had never been in question, but that he desired her, that she still moved him so, was all the impetus she needed to drive this moment further, to let him take her weight and lift her onto the bench. She twined her legs around him, kissing him back with a passion that had been missing for too long now, her neck arching back as he explored every hollow with his expert tongue, his hands sliding up her bare thighs, toying with the silk of her skimpy knickers, his fingers playing at the edges. And he could have taken her there and then and it wouldn’t have been too soon, but sense prevailed for a tiny second.