I'll Find You Read online

  ‘Sister Barrows, thank you for looking after me today and I’m sorry to be taking time off so soon after starting here.’ Emily wondered if her nose had just gone brown and despised herself for seeking approval. It made her come across as weak.

  Fortunately, her wheedling seemed to do the trick. Barrows actually smiled. ‘You have nothing to apologise for. You didn’t choose for this to happen. Mr Dalloway will sort you out and you’ll be back at work before you know it. You’re in very safe hands.’ Her reassurance was meant kindly, but Emily couldn’t see the woman ever being demonstrative, or showing real warmth to someone in need. She was pleased, though, that she was in the hands of Mr Dalloway.

  The surgeon worked in both the NHS and here in this private hospital and she’d seen him a few times in the emergency department, though she hadn’t spoken to him. Tall and lean, with smoothed-back fair hair that was turning grey, he had a regal and private air about him that warded off the inclination to start up a conversation. His lofty reputation as a surgeon put him somewhere up there with the gods. When she had first met him, a decade ago as a student nurse, he’d been referred to as a ‘dying breed’, an old-fashioned general surgeon who could do anything from remove breast cancer to fix a bleeding aortic aneurysm, and Emily knew she was lucky to be having the consultant attend her. Her operation would be carried out by the main man himself, the clinical director of the hospital, and not by one of his underlings.

  ‘Now, I must get on. The anaesthetist will be in to see you shortly. Then we’ll be back to take you down. You know you have nothing to fear? This is merely procedural.’

  Emily nodded and Barrows departed. She knew what Barrows was referring to. Fear of breast cancer. In truth Emily had given no thought to the lump in her breast, other than that it had come at an inconvenient time. Her new job had just restarted a future that had been put on hold during the last year. It had given purpose back to her life. Something to hold on to. She had dropped most of her friends, having no time to offer them. She had dated no one in the last year and avoided any opportunity to do so. Searching for Zoe had taken up all her time, and fleetingly she wondered if by coming back to work she was subconsciously giving up hope of finding her. Putting obstacles in the way to make her life busier, to ward off thinking that Zoe would never be found.

  There was a knock at the open door. Emily raised her head off the pillow. The woman standing in the doorway was wearing blue scrubs and had sun-kissed hair scrunched up in a loose ponytail. Her tanned arms and face suggested a holiday in a warm climate. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. Nurse Ratched told me you were in room twenty-nine.’

  ‘Nurse Ratched?’ Emily replied.

  ‘You’re either too young or you haven’t seen enough movies. Where I come from we call ward sisters like Sister Barrows, Nurse Ratched. You know, from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?’

  Emily hadn’t seen the film, but she’d heard of it. She smiled. ‘So, you’re American?’

  The anaesthetist shook her head. ‘Nope, married to one and after being over there for fifteen years I decided to adopt the accent. It kind of makes me feel cute.’

  Emily instantly liked her and hoped that behind the goofiness she was good at her job. ‘So, let’s get down to business, Emily Jacobs. It says here that you’ve never had an anaesthetic. Is that correct?’

  Emily nodded.

  ‘Your bloods and obs are all good. You have no past medical history, no allergies and you last ate and drank last night? So now just scoot forward and let me have a listen to your chest.’ Taking the stethoscope from round her neck, she rubbed the metal disk briskly and placed it below Emily’s right shoulder. ‘OK, nice deep breaths in and out.’ With each intake of breath, the anaesthetist moved the stethoscope right to left, up and down Emily’s back. Then she sat on the bed. ‘All good. So now all we need is to go through our checklist and look at your name band.’ Emily held up her wrist so that the details on the ID band could be inspected and matched against her paperwork. ‘And we’re good to go.’

  ‘Fifteen years? You don’t look old enough.’

  ‘Forty,’ the anaesthetist said, then put a finger to her lips and whispered, ‘Did I just say forty?’

  Emily grinned.

  ‘You tell anyone and I’m liable to kill you.’

  Emily laughed. ‘That’s not the most appropriate thing to say to someone you are just about to anaesthetise.’

  The quirky anaesthetist stood up. ‘True. But it’s effective.’

  ‘Are you back home for good?’ Emily hoped she was. She was the friendliest face she had met here so far and she would look forward to working with her.

  A sadness briefly dimmed the attractive face. ‘Nope. Poorly relative. Managed to get some locum work while I’m over here. Then at least I can offer some family support.’

  Emily was sorry she’d pried. As the anaesthetist made to leave, Emily stopped her. ‘What’s your name?’

  She bowed playfully, placing one hand against her chest and giving a theatrical wave with the other. ‘You can call me Meredith.’

  Chapter Four

  There was a high-pitched whine and then a kethunk and a zap. It was the sound of a defibrillator charging up and then discharging its electric current. Emily opened her eyes, disturbed, and saw curtains drawn around her bed. A light was switched on in another part of the room and she could see the shadowy shape of someone moving past. There was a person at her neighbour’s bed. The defibrillator started charging up again, making a high-pitched humming noise as it reached crescendo, and then giving a brutal zap as it fired its bolt. She held her breath. The poor young woman was in serious trouble. They had tried to shock her twice, which didn’t bode well. Mindful of her breast, she edged her way across the bed and leaned over, pulling the curtain aside to see what was happening.

  Someone in theatre clothing was performing chest compressions. She could tell by the straight arms and downward movement of the shoulders. The cardiac monitor faced Emily. It had been put on silent mode, otherwise it would have been beeping madly. She could see the erratic peaks rushing across the screen. Her eyes lowered to the bed, but her neighbour’s face was hidden from view by the person attending to her. One slim arm dangled limply over the edge of the bed, and Emily watched the small hand flick each time a compression was made on the chest. She jolted as someone touched her shoulder and then winced as the taped dressing pulled on her breast.

  ‘Shit, you gave me a heart attack.’

  In the near darkness whoever was beside her was shining a torch right in her face. ‘Shush,’ she heard.

  Blinking as the light left her face, Emily saw its beam settle on her cannula. A syringe was quickly attached and fluid injected. ‘Hey, I don’t need any painkillers,’ she protested.

  About to object further, she suddenly felt floaty and her tongue felt fat. Her jaw was floppy and her eyes, unable to focus, closed as she descended into rapid darkness.

  *

  The rattling of china woke her and she squinted through heavy-lidded eyes as she spied the cup and saucer on her bedside locker. Nausea filled her as she raised her head off the pillow. The movement set off a seesaw motion in her stomach. Shelly stood at the monitor beside her and Emily felt the squeeze of the blood pressure cuff inflating around her arm. A moment later the machine bleeped its findings and Emily saw her blood pressure was a little on the low side. No surprise there. That was normal, considering she’d had surgery and an anaesthetic the day before.

  ‘There’s tea beside you. How are you doing?’ Shelly asked. Her face looked tired this morning, as if she hadn’t had time to put on any makeup. Emily sympathised. Shift work made a fine enemy of your sleep pattern and early starts never got any easier.

  ‘Thumping headache and feeling sick. Do you think I could have a couple of paracetamol?’

  Shelly nodded. ‘I’ll tell Sister Barrows. She’s just giving the medicines to the patient next door.’

  Emily looked around the room,
noticing her curtains were drawn back and the bed beside her was unoccupied, neat and freshly made for the next patient. ‘What happened to the lady beside me?’ she asked.

  Shelly glanced at the empty bed, her expression blank. ‘Guess she was moved in the night.’

  Emily was relieved; at least she had survived. She hoped the girl was doing better. ‘Good.’ Her bladder was full. She got out of bed. ‘Need the loo. Thanks for the tea.’

  When she returned, a medicine pot with two paracetamol had been left for her. She swallowed them with a glass of water, then sipped her tea. It was too early to start showering and getting dressed. At seven thirty in the morning she knew it would be a few hours yet before she was discharged. She would get back into bed and try and sleep off the headache. It had probably been caused by whatever they gave her in the night. That was a bit naughty of them, to give her something without her permission. She certainly wouldn’t have done it, unless the patient was unconscious. Even when a patient was crying out in pain she still told them what she was giving them and why. She would watch out for this type of practice when she was on duty, as it was not something she would condone.

  *

  Rupert Dalloway had aged since the last time she’d seen him. His fair hair was greyer than she remembered. He looked tired and his broad shoulders stooped slightly in a white hospital coat over blue scrubs. On his feet he wore navy leather clogs. Sister Barrows stood one step behind as if out of deference to the surgeon.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Jacobs. Everything went fine. We excised a four-centimetre lump. It looked exactly like a fibroadenoma; nothing to worry about. The sutures under the skin are absorbable and the dressing is splash proof, it just needs to stay on until we see you in clinic with the histology results. You may experience some mild tenderness and have slight bruising. Other than that, you’re fit to go.’

  His summary was perfunctory and to the point. He had yet to look at her.

  Emily smiled politely. ‘Thank you, Mr Dalloway. I hope to be back at work by next week.’

  He nodded briefly. ‘Yes, well, I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Do you need a sick certificate for your workplace?’

  ‘Miss Jacobs works for us, Mr Dalloway,’ said Sister Barrows. ‘She started a few weeks ago. Miss Jacobs is a highly trained ED nurse. In fact, I believe she was a sister in her department? A nurse practitioner?’

  Emily was surprised by the praise. Perhaps Barrows did like her after all. ‘Yes, Sister Barrows, that’s correct.’

  Rupert Dalloway raised his head, his eyes more engaged until his gaze fell on Emily. The change in his expression was immediate. His eyes opened wider, his brows lifted, his mouth parted slightly. ‘Aren’t we the lucky ones getting someone so skilled? Welcome aboard, Sister Jacobs,’ he said in a rush, as if trying to move past the moment.

  ‘Staff nurse.’ Emily corrected, guessing his expression of surprise was because her face was familiar. ‘I’m no longer a sister.’

  ‘But a title, my dear,’ he said kindly. ‘Welcome aboard anyway. See you when you get back to work. Any questions before we leave?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘None concerning myself. I just wanted to ask how the young woman beside me is? I know they had to shock her in the night.’

  Dalloway stared at the empty bed, a frown between his eyes, and Barrows looked perplexed. ‘What woman?’ he finally asked.

  ‘The one that was beside me yesterday morning,’ Emily said louder than she intended. ‘The one they were resuscitating in the night.’

  Barrows’ lips formed into the shape of a prune. Emily was beginning to wonder if the woman was permanently cranky. ‘You have been the only patient in this room since you were admitted, Miss Jacobs.’

  Emily stared at her, astonished. ‘What? She was here beside me. Young, small, dark-haired. I was talking to her.’

  ‘You need to calm yourself, Miss Jacobs.’

  ‘I am calm. But I’m confused by what you’re saying. There was a woman beside me!’

  Dalloway stepped closer to the bed. His hand reached out to rest on her shoulder. ‘Perhaps it was a dream, my dear.’ Then he said, ‘Has the anaesthetist been in to see you?’

  ‘No. Not since yesterday. There’s been no need.’

  Barrows stepped forward. ‘Perhaps if we could step outside and have a chat?’

  Emily stared at her resentfully. ‘Whatever you have to say to Mr Dalloway, please say it in front of me, especially if it’s about me.’

  A coolness entered the woman’s eye and Emily suspected that she had just made an enemy, any previous liking merely imagined. ‘As you wish. You had a nightmare. They had to calm you.’

  Emily gaped at her.

  ‘It’s here in your medical notes.’ Barrows tapped the folder in her hands, then opened it to a page and read aloud. ‘One forty-five, patient calling out in her sleep, clearly distressed. In view of medical history, five milligrams of Diazepam given via IV to settle.’

  ‘I didn’t have a nightmare,’ Emily said, even more emphatically. ‘There was a patient beside me!’

  ‘Do you think we should have the anaesthetist see you, Miss Jacobs?’ Dalloway asked, and Emily looked at him in shock. He had turned away so she couldn’t see his face, but she suspected he was no longer thinking that they were lucky to have her. He was thinking she had imagined this. One thought could lead to another and before she knew it, he would be suggesting a psych review. She needed to calm this situation down. To reassure him that there wasn’t the need for anyone to check her over. Something was amiss about the patient beside her. Perhaps she had died and they simply didn’t want her upset? Whatever their reason for not wanting to talk about it, Emily’s instinct was to shut up and stop asking questions.

  She let herself fall back against the pillow as if exhausted and her manner became flustered, her eyes blinking in confusion. ‘Maybe you’re right, Mr Dalloway. A dream, as you say. I . . . I have them sometimes. Nightmares. It must be the after-effects of the anaesthetic. I should know this, being a nurse. I’m sorry if I alarmed you.’

  Dalloway did not seem reassured. He gazed at her sceptically and Emily knew she had to say something more. ‘It’s not just the anaesthetic. I have frequent nightmares. I should be used to them by now. You see, my sister is missing.’

  He looked at her with compassion. He had figured out who she was. ‘Your sister, Zoe Jacobs. The student nurse who went missing from the hospital.’ He stared at her for several long seconds. Then, as if coming out of a trance, he nodded bleakly. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

  Angry tears filled her eyes. She stared at him resentfully. ‘Don’t say that! She’s missing! Not dead. Missing. And I will find her.’

  Chapter Five

  Emily paid the taxi driver as the car pulled up beside Margaret’s Buildings, a pedestrian street which the taxi couldn’t drive along as it had been paved to allow for tables and chairs and billboards for the few shops and bistros. Around the corner from The Royal Crescent and The Circus, the businesses here were in a desirable location in this very affluent part of Bath. Her home was above one of the shops. She made her way to a blue front door.

  Climbing to the second floor, she let herself into her flat, set down her overnight hospital bag and walked into the kitchen to put on the kettle. She pulled out her mobile, still fully charged, and scrolled through her few contacts. She stopped at Eric Hudson, her counsellor for the last year, who had in the last month reduced their meetings to fortnightly. She tapped his name and saw the red phone symbol appear. Then she heard his soft Bradford accent.

  ‘Hey, Emily, how’re you doing?’

  ‘I’m good, thought I’d say hello. I’ve just got out of the hospital and wanted to hear a friendly voice. You know.’

  A moment of silence went by and Emily could picture him staring at the phone and not being fooled for one minute. ‘You want to meet up?’

  She squeezed her eyes shut. What would she say? I saw a woman in the bed beside me who doe
sn’t exist? ‘No, you’re alright. I just wanted to say hello.’

  More seconds of silence. ‘How about we bring our meeting forward and catch up tomorrow?’

  Emily shook her head as if he could see her. ‘No, seriously, everything’s good. As I say, I just wanted to hear a friendly voice.’

  ‘OK. And you’re alright? Everything went OK?’

  She laughed and said everything went fine. The last thing she needed was for him to be concerned about her mental health, and she didn’t want to raise any doubts in his mind that she was not doing well. She had already raised those doubts in the minds of the people she worked with and she wouldn’t be at all surprised if she were asked to not come back.

  ‘Good. Well, if you need to hear a friendly voice again, give me a call.’

  After she said goodbye she sent him a text message:

  Thanks for the chat. See you at our appointment. E

  She felt relieved that she hadn’t told him about seeing a woman that apparently didn’t exist and more in control. She relaxed, turned on the radio and set about making herself some lunch. Food was what she needed. Food, a bath and then more sleep. She would not think about that woman until she was more rested and the anaesthetic and other drugs she’d been given were completely out of her system. When she was more clear-headed she would re-examine her memory and piece together the day before. She now needed to empty her mind and forget the conversations with Barrows and Dalloway. When he suggested the anaesthetist see her again, she’d panicked at the thought of how quickly her state of mind was being called into question. At how easy it was for others to take control. She must guard against this happening again. She had a past they could use against her. One strike already. She didn’t wish to add more.