‘What’s his blood glucose?’ she asked. Everyone ignored her, having already wasted time listening to an annoying bolshy med student. She turned to the counter, grabbed a 50ml syringe of 50 per cent dextrose, and pushed into the patient’s side again, attaching it to the drip.
‘Libby,’ Jamie’s sharp voice cut through the activity of the team. ‘What are you doing?’
Silence fell and all eyes turned to her. ‘What’s his blood glucose?’ she asked again, her voice steady despite her nerves.
‘Well … I.’ The paramedic frowned as he looked down at the patient’s chart. ‘Shit, we don’t seem to have … ’ One of the nurses moved quickly to pierce the patient’s finger and ran the blood through the BM machine.
‘It’s unreadable,’ he said after a tense few seconds had passed.
‘Go ahead, Libby,’ Jamie told her as he continued to ventilate the patient with the bag and mask. Libby injected the i.v. dextrose, and after another tense few seconds the patient’s eyelids fluttered open. She breathed out a huge breath in relief as she stepped back to let the rest of the team in, and before the others could block her view she saw Toby scowling at her so fiercely she actually felt a flicker of fear go up her spine at the hate in his expression.
Chapter 12
Fair warning
Sweat trickled down Libby’s back as she watched the now very much awake biker being wheeled away to the CT scanner.
‘Why wasn’t the BM taken before?’ she heard Jamie ask the team and the paramedic crew. His question was met with blank stares and shifting feet. He sighed and threw his hands up in the air. ‘This is why we have protocols. The guy probably crashed his bike because he was hypoglycemic. He could have gone into a coma and come out with brain damage if Libby hadn’t been thinking so quickly.
‘We need to run some more simulated scenarios in this department. And where’s the consultant in charge today?’
Libby backed away from the cubicle, keen to get out of his eye-line and maybe avoid interacting with him altogether. She shrugged out of the heavy gown and then pulled her cardigan off as she slowly retreated, feeling too hot in the stuffy environment of Resus after all the excitement; but she froze when she heard a loud hiss across the cubicle.
‘What thefuckhappened to your arms?’ Jamie said as he pushed through the team in Resus to catch up with her. Libby jerked round in surprise. The movement was the last straw for her hair band, which snapped, letting her mass of dark, wavy hair flow down her back and over her shoulders. She felt like Cousin It. Huffing in frustration, she grabbed all the hair she could and tied it in a knot at the nape of her neck. It was already falling out by the time she had finished. All she had achieved was allowing Jamie a better look at her bruised arms. His eyes flashed and he took both her elbows in his hands, turning them over to see her upper arms and the red fingertip-bruising around them.
‘Did this happen at the club?’
Libby’s eyes darted around the department and she shushed him before gesturing for him to follow her into the treatment room.
‘Do you mind not mentioning Saturday, like, ever again. And especiallynotat work,’ she whisper-shouted once they were in relative privacy.
Jamie frowned down at her and crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in them bunching – not helpful for Libby’s concentration.
‘Please,’ she added when he remained silent. She hated the pleading note in her voice, but if it meant nobody at work would know what she did outside the hospital she was prepared to beg even an arrogant small-minded twat like Dr Grantham (she decided in that moment that he was no longer Jamie, not to her).Beg, borrow or steal– her mantra since she got her A-level results the day after she’d given birth. She would do anything for the future Rosie deserved.
‘God, Libby, I’m not going to tell anyone,’ he said, irritation lacing his tone. ‘Do you really think I’m that much of an arsehole?’
Libby stared at him steadily, her mouth clamped shut. He might hold all the power in this situation but she could not bring herself to lie.
He ran his hand through his hair, making the light brown strands stick up haphazardly in stark contrast to the pristine scrubs he was wearing. ‘Look, will you just tell me how you got those marks? Is this a regular thing? Do you always end the weekend looking like a punching bag after the bouncers let all sorts of blokes grab you willy-nilly? It’s completely obvious to me that a place like that is not safe. You … you shouldn’t put yourself at risk.’
Libby almost let out a nervous laugh at the term willy-nilly coming from Dr Grantham, but managed to hold it in.
‘Of coursethe guys don’t let any punters come anywherenearus. You saw for yourself what happens when someone steps over the line.’
Dr Grantham threw his hands up in frustration. ‘Then what? Do you have a beer-guzzling wife-beater-wearing boyfriend that knocks you about? Are you trying to live up to all the stripper clichés at once?’
Libby clenched her small fists at her sides and her face flushed red with anger. ‘Do you think I wouldeverallow anyone violentnearmy daughter?’
Dr Grantham stared at her and then let out a long breath. ‘Okay, but what – ?’
Libby was so furious that she didn’t think about what she was doing when she stepped into Dr Grantham’s personal space and poked him in the chest. ‘You sanctimonious prick,’ she hissed. ‘You think a place like that – somewhere you considersofar below you, with people in it at the very bottom of the food chain – you think I’m in dangerthere. Well I’ve got news for you, buddy, I’m a hell of a lot safer in that club than here in an NHS hospital with zero security and working with utter bastards.’
‘You got those bruiseshere? What happened?’
Libby took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth as she shoved her arms back through the sleeves of her cardigan. ‘Look, I’m sorry but you are not my supervising consultant now, Dr Grantham.’
He groaned. ‘Libby, please don’t go back to that Dr Grantham bullsh – ’
