I flung open the cubicle curtain and stepped out into the corridor, hearing gasps from patients and staff alike. Everyone was frozen in shock as they looked at us, and Glenda was continuing to erupt in front of our eyes.
‘I need help in here,’ I shouted to Lizzy, who was staring at me open-mouthed, ‘and you –’ I pointed to an equally slack-jawed nurse ‘– bleep gastro: upper GI bleed needs scoping now. And someone get me that blood.’
Everyone around me leapt into action. Lizzy and the A&E registrar piled into the room along with a couple of nurses. I had just finished putting in a wide-bore cannula when I felt both my upper arms gripped by large hands and I was practically lifted off my feet, away from Glenda.
‘What the –’
‘Shut it, habibi,’ I heard Ash’s deep Arabic voice clip as he propelled me forward across the corridor, my arms still in his vice-like grip.
‘Ash, she’s bleeding out, we have to –’
‘Keep your mouth closed,’ he said firmly, and then my head was being forced down under the tap in the ward sink, which was turned on full blast. The water poured into my eyes and Ash was frantically using the hand not holding my head under to wash the rest of my face.
‘Zarba, you’re covered in it,’ he ground out. ‘You think always of others, never yourself. You are crazy girl!’ His accent was deepening and his perfect English slipping in his anger. ‘ “Stupidity is a disease without a medicine.” ’ Even whilst still under the tap I was cross to be called stupid, but ridiculously impressed that he had come out with a proverb in the midst of his fury.
Finally satisfied, he released me and I stood. I was completely soaked but at least my head and neck were largely free of blood. I glared at Ash and he glared back.
‘You had blood in your eyes, Frankie. Who knows what she has. You should have washed them out straightaway.’ I felt my stomach hollow out just as the arrest call came through on both of our bleeps.
Glenda.
We both dashed back into the room. Lizzy was doing chest compressions and the A&E registrar was trying to get an airway. Glenda looked dead. Blood was still pouring from her mouth. We all stood back as the defib analyzed the rhythm as asystole, and then I gave her a shot of adrenaline.
Fifteen minutes later, after attempting to pour more blood through her veins than was coming out of her mouth, and breaking most of her ribs whilst trying to pump it round her broken body, she was declared dead officially.
I looked at her vacant, pale face. Never in all the times I had met her had she appeared devoid of expression. Granted, it was usually an angry one, and accompanied by liberal use of the c and f-words; but it was better than the lifeless face before me now.
I felt a hand resting lightly on my arm. ‘It was only a matter of time, Frankie,’ Ash said softly. ‘The way she lived, the sheer quantity of alcohol she drank. There was no hope for her. “The chains of habit are too small to be felt unless they are too strong to be broken.” She couldn’t be saved, Frankie; she couldn’t change.’
I looked at her blank face and closed my eyes. An image formed in my mind of another face, devoid of life, blood pouring from his mouth.
‘People can change,’ I whispered as I tried to push the horrific image from my mind.
‘Not when addiction is that strong, Frankie. There’s nothing you could have done for her.’
Oh God, he thought I was upset because I hadn’t sorted Glenda out in the past. He actually thought he was reassuring me. He had no idea.
That’s when the numbness settled over me and I turned on the automatic pilot. Ash sent off the blood I’d taken from Glenda for HIV and hepatitis screening; Lizzy took my blood and reminded me that I needed to go back to occupational health to get tested again in three months. Then somehow I managed to get changed and cycle home. I vaguely remembered Ash trying to offer me a lift, and pushing past him.
Now, under the shower, I finally felt clean, but I wished I could get back that feeling of numbness. I let my tears fall into the water pounding onto my face until I had none left to cry. I climbed out of the shower and dried off, finding my comfiest tracky bums and a huge sweatshirt that Dylan had left in the flat. Before I could retreat to my bed, the door was pushed open and Lou came barrelling in. Her face was white and her mobile was clamped to her ear.
‘It’s okay, I’m with her now,’ she said into the phone. ‘I’ll let you know,’ she continued as she disconnected. ‘Ash,’ she told me. ‘He was worried, phoned to see if you got home okay. Jesus, Frankie, it sounds awful.’
‘She died,’ I said, my voice hoarse from sobbing in the shower. ‘All that drinking, it finally caught up with her. Ash was telling me nobody could save her. He thought he was making me feel better. It made me think that –’
‘I know,’ Lou said softly, cutting me off as my voice broke. ‘Please come and eat, please. For me, so I know you’ll be okay.’
Emotional blackmail. Lou’s forte and my weakness.
I allowed her to chivvy me out of the bedroom and was horrified to see Tom still in the flat, firmly ensconced on the sofa, watching rugby with Dylan.
‘Right,’ said Lou. ‘Food, sofa, crap telly for you.’ She shoved a bowl of pasta into one of my hands and a can of coke into the other. Unfortunately I was too much of a zombie to take note of where everyone was sitting. In fact my brain was in such a fog that I barely noticed the direction Lou was steering me in, or that she was pushing me there rather forcefully. It was only when I was seated in the middle of the small sofa, right between her and Tom, that I understood her devious plan.
Whatever, I told myself, studiously avoiding eye contact with Tom, who was now watching me rather than the rugby. If she wanted to play matchmaker she could go for it. I was going to eat my pasta and then I was out of there.
Chapter 20
Too bloody right
