Free A Promise Is for Keeping by Felicity Hayle Page B

intensely interested in his patients as people—they were always so much more than just cases to him, and she was reminded once again of the thought she had had about him at Beechcroft—he had that rare gift of compassion.
    It was just as she was going off duty at the end of a tiring
    day that the telephone in her office rang with that particutlarly insistent ring which, even before she answered it, Fay knew it meant trouble.
    It was the Sister from the accident wing—Sister Evans.
    "Sister Gabriel? This is Accident here. We've got a car smash case here—multiple fractures right leg, smashed pelvis, concussion and suspected rupture of spleen. Mr. Osborne has
    just phoned through to say he's not sending the patient back
    here but wants you to admit him to Stanhope. Mr. Osborne is coming over with the trolley almost at once and asks if you will prepare to receive the patient and if possible remain on duty yourself."
    The request was unusual, but Fay did not take time to consider that—she was too busy preparing to receive the
     
    unexpected patient. Since the opening of the accident wing these sudden requests for beds in the general wards were infrequent, but Fay had an empty bed and she hurried now to get it prepared. It was just approaching the hour for the change-over from day to night shift, and also supper time for some of the nurses, so that staff was at its lowest ebb and she had to do most of the work herself.
    Nevertheless she was at the ward door waiting for the trolley when it was wheeled out of the lift.
    The progress of the trolley from the lift was unusually slow, and when Fay saw the reason—the drip stand with its inverted bottle of blood still attached to the patient's arm—she did not need any further evidence of the severity of the case. Mark, still in his theatre gown and mask, walked beside the trolley, his hand on the man's pulse. He looked so white and tired that the thought crossed Fay's mind that he seemed in need of a transfusion himself. Later she learned that he had been operating for three hours in the most exacting circumstances of multiple injuries and a race against time.
    Very carefully the porters under Mark's supervision lifted the patient on to the bed and the coverings were replaced. Mark checked the needle in the vein. "Keep the blood going until B.P.'s up to normal—if you can get it up. He's AB—would have to be one of the rarer groups, of course, but the lab have four more bottles in stock and we've sent to the pool for replacements. Don't increase the rate unless you have to. Can you hang on until Night Sister gets round—she may be late, because there's another casualty from the same smash on the women's side."
    "I'll stay until I c an hand over to her," Fay promised quietly.
    With a quick movement Mark removed his mask and smiled at her. It made him look so much more himself that Fay's heart gave a sickening little lurch.
    "Thanks, Sister," he said, and then with a glance at the patient and a tightening of his lips he went on, "Some drunken fool who got off scot free ran into him broadside on, it seems. Doesn't it make you sick that a young life can be jeopardised by sheer, selfish irresponsibility?"
    For the first time Fay looked closely at the patient's face
     
    and an involuntary little "Oh!" escaped her. She felt Mark's glance shift to her quickly.
    "Know him?" he asked laconically.
    "No—not exactly," Fay explained, studying the handsome young face under its swathe of bandages, "but I've seen him down at the skating club—he's very good."
    "Well, poor devil, he'll never skate again." Mark spoke through compressed lips.
    "Is he badly hurt?" Fay asked. "I haven't had a chance to see the notes yet."
    "About as bad as he can be," came the bitter-sounding reply. "We've done what we could, but it's too early yet to assess his chances. There's a metal splinter in his head that we've not been able to tackle yet. Don't know how deep it is —a lot will depend on that. Sir