London traffic. Sam watched the time and the meter tick by with growing frustration and concern.
They came to a standstill just north of Westminster Bridge.
‘Looks like an accident up ahead,’ the cabbie observed in the rear view mirror. ‘Sorry doc, no way around this.’
Sam looked up ahead. A bus had collided with a lorry. It didn’t look serious, but it was enough to block the road completely. The police were on the scene.
They were so close to the hospital.
Sam paid the driver and jumped out, splashing through oily puddles as the rain continued to fall, dodging and weaving through the umbrella wielding crowds. He skirted past the Palace of Westminster with Big Ben his reminder that time was not on his side. Thankfully he was physically fit, having been in training for months for a half marathon that Doug had persuaded him to run in, taking place in eight weeks’ time, so he traversed the busy Westminster Bridge as quickly as the crowds would allow him, taking to the road in places. Sprinting up to the hospital’s front entrance, he drew glances from patients and staff who were milling around outside as he raced into the main lobby towards the lifts. He pressed the buttons hard several times but then decided to head for the stairs, taking them two by two. Sweat was pouring from him and he felt a burn inside his chest as he burst onto the fourth floor, nearly knocking over a cleaning trolley.
‘Sorry!’
He continued running down the corridor to the surgical ward, dodging surprised nurses and other healthcare staff. Reaching the doors, Sam flung them open.
Doug was waiting for him on the other side, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
Sam knew straight away that the news wasn’t good.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head, looking for a miracle in Doug’s eyes. ‘Please say she isn’t...’
‘She’s still alive,’ he said, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘But she’s critical. It’s not looking hopeful.’
‘What happened?’ he asked, feeling an equal sense of relief that she was still alive, but concern about her condition.
‘I don’t know,’ Doug admitted. ‘I’ve only just had word from one of the nurses. She’s on life support up on ICU.’
‘Where’s Miles?’
‘In his office,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think it’s a good idea…’
‘I need to find out what happened,’ he said, brushing off his attempt to stop him.
‘Sam, don’t.’
He strode past the front desk and headed for the office. He didn’t bother knocking. Miles looked up from the paperwork that lay on the table.
‘Sam,’ he said, seeming inconvenienced by his appearance.
‘What happened?’ Sam asked.
‘To who?’
‘You know who. Sophie Jackson. What happened?’
‘She suffered internal bleeding as a result of a ruptured artery,’ he explained, putting down his pen. ‘I managed to stem the flow and patch her up, but the next few hours will be crucial.’
Sam tried to take in the news. Having got past the first few crucial post-operative days, Sophie should have settled down. The setback highlighted the perilous state of her cardio-vascular system. It was an extremely worrying development. ‘How do you rate her chances?’
‘Not good. Maybe ten, fifteen per cent, but I did my best,’ he said, picking up the pen and looking down at the paperwork. ‘Sam. I really have to deal with this, and I’ve got to prepare for another operation that starts in twenty minutes. So if you wouldn’t mind.’
Sam ignored the hint. ‘Where are Tom and Sarah?’
Miles looked confused. ‘Tom and…’
‘Sophie’s parents, are they here?’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘They’re in the family room across the corridor. I’ve already spoken with them and explained the situation.’
‘I want to talk with them too,’ Sam said.
‘Always competing,’ Miles muttered, shaking his head.
‘Excuse me?’
Miles looked up. ‘Sam, I’ve already spoken with the parents. I know you’re upset that
They came to a standstill just north of Westminster Bridge.
‘Looks like an accident up ahead,’ the cabbie observed in the rear view mirror. ‘Sorry doc, no way around this.’
Sam looked up ahead. A bus had collided with a lorry. It didn’t look serious, but it was enough to block the road completely. The police were on the scene.
They were so close to the hospital.
Sam paid the driver and jumped out, splashing through oily puddles as the rain continued to fall, dodging and weaving through the umbrella wielding crowds. He skirted past the Palace of Westminster with Big Ben his reminder that time was not on his side. Thankfully he was physically fit, having been in training for months for a half marathon that Doug had persuaded him to run in, taking place in eight weeks’ time, so he traversed the busy Westminster Bridge as quickly as the crowds would allow him, taking to the road in places. Sprinting up to the hospital’s front entrance, he drew glances from patients and staff who were milling around outside as he raced into the main lobby towards the lifts. He pressed the buttons hard several times but then decided to head for the stairs, taking them two by two. Sweat was pouring from him and he felt a burn inside his chest as he burst onto the fourth floor, nearly knocking over a cleaning trolley.
‘Sorry!’
He continued running down the corridor to the surgical ward, dodging surprised nurses and other healthcare staff. Reaching the doors, Sam flung them open.
Doug was waiting for him on the other side, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
Sam knew straight away that the news wasn’t good.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head, looking for a miracle in Doug’s eyes. ‘Please say she isn’t...’
‘She’s still alive,’ he said, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘But she’s critical. It’s not looking hopeful.’
‘What happened?’ he asked, feeling an equal sense of relief that she was still alive, but concern about her condition.
‘I don’t know,’ Doug admitted. ‘I’ve only just had word from one of the nurses. She’s on life support up on ICU.’
‘Where’s Miles?’
‘In his office,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think it’s a good idea…’
‘I need to find out what happened,’ he said, brushing off his attempt to stop him.
‘Sam, don’t.’
He strode past the front desk and headed for the office. He didn’t bother knocking. Miles looked up from the paperwork that lay on the table.
‘Sam,’ he said, seeming inconvenienced by his appearance.
‘What happened?’ Sam asked.
‘To who?’
‘You know who. Sophie Jackson. What happened?’
‘She suffered internal bleeding as a result of a ruptured artery,’ he explained, putting down his pen. ‘I managed to stem the flow and patch her up, but the next few hours will be crucial.’
Sam tried to take in the news. Having got past the first few crucial post-operative days, Sophie should have settled down. The setback highlighted the perilous state of her cardio-vascular system. It was an extremely worrying development. ‘How do you rate her chances?’
‘Not good. Maybe ten, fifteen per cent, but I did my best,’ he said, picking up the pen and looking down at the paperwork. ‘Sam. I really have to deal with this, and I’ve got to prepare for another operation that starts in twenty minutes. So if you wouldn’t mind.’
Sam ignored the hint. ‘Where are Tom and Sarah?’
Miles looked confused. ‘Tom and…’
‘Sophie’s parents, are they here?’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘They’re in the family room across the corridor. I’ve already spoken with them and explained the situation.’
‘I want to talk with them too,’ Sam said.
‘Always competing,’ Miles muttered, shaking his head.
‘Excuse me?’
Miles looked up. ‘Sam, I’ve already spoken with the parents. I know you’re upset that
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