CAROL MARINELLI - The Socialite's Secret

‘Just what I told you,’ Paul answered.

‘Have you called for an anaesthetist?’

‘The first on call is in Theatre. The second on is David. He’s coming just as soon as he can but he’s with a sick child on PICU,’ Paul answered, as Luke started checking and labelling the drugs that Barbara, a very experienced senior nurse, was pulling up. ‘I was about to see if Switch could do a ring around …’

‘It’s fine.’ Luke shook his head before Paul could suggest otherwise. ‘We’ll more than manage until David gets here.’

‘Do you even know who Anya is?’ Paul checked, because Luke looked completely unruffled by the news of who was on their way into the department and the fact that the anaesthetist wasn’t there.

‘Yes.’

Oh, Luke knew.

Better than most.

Anya had been famous for forty of her fifty years of life and would, after today, be even more so.

Especially if she died.

‘You’d better let the director of nursing know,’ Luke said.

Paul gave a worried nod. ‘I already have.’

‘Good. I’ll go and make sure the screens are up outside.’ As he went to go out, Heather, the director of nursing, was running down the corridor towards him.

‘Do we know what she’s taken?’ was the first thing that Heather asked when she caught up with Luke.

‘We don’t know that she’s taken anything.’ Luke’s response was tart and Heather flushed as Luke continued to speak. ‘Let’s just make sure that the screens are up and no cameras can get a shot of her.’

The media were already starting to gather. He could hear the sound of a helicopter hovering overhead but thankfully the ambulance bay was covered.

Right now it was about affording Anya some privacy.

Whether she would want it or not.

Paul came outside and briefed them further. ‘Ambulance Control has just called. It’s an unspecified drug overdose …’

‘Well, that was never going to happen.’ Heather’s response was sarcastic.

‘If you want to help—’ Luke had heard enough innuendo and the patient hadn’t even arrived. He turned and faced Heather and made his feelings on the subject very clear. ‘—then cast judgement aside. If you can’t manage that—leave.’

He meant it.

Luke had long ago learnt not to judge and to keep his own feelings very much in check, and it would take everything he had in him to maintain that today.

‘I was just—’ Heather attempted.

‘Well, please don’t,’ Luke interrupted.

Heather looked over at Paul and they shared a glance. Luke had worked at the Royal for just over two years now. He was never the sunniest of people but he rarely snapped and his mood seemed particularly dark today.

The ambulance arrived and as Luke opened the doors he saw that Anya was being given cardiac massage by a paramedic and that a sun-tanned man was shouting orders in a strong Californian accent. He informed Luke, only when asked, that his name was Vince and that he was Anya’s private physician.

Luke already knew.

And he hated that man more than anyone could possibly imagine.

‘What’s the story?’ Luke asked him, as the paramedics worked skilfully on the unconscious woman while they wheeled her in and Luke pulled on a gown and gloves.

‘She must have taken some sleeping tablets,’ Vince said.

It was a vague response but, with time of the essence, for now Luke ignored him. Instead, he listened to Albert, one of the paramedics, who relayed far more information than the private physician seemed willing to give.

‘She was found unconscious by her daughter at six a.m.,’ Albert said, as they moved Anya over to the resuscitation bed.

‘Semiconscious,’ Vince corrected.

‘The daughter, Scarlet, is hysterical,’ Albert said. ‘It was hard to get any information out of her. Apparently Anya was given an opiate reversal but then vomited and went into respiratory and then cardiac arrest.’

‘What has she taken?’ Luke asked Vince, but any clear information remained unforthcoming.

‘We’re not sure.’

Albert gave Luke a wide-eyed look, which he took as meaning that the paramedics had had as much trouble extracting details.

Paul took over the cardiac massage as Albert relayed the rest of what he knew. ‘There were no bottles or syringes and she had been intubated before we arrived.’

Oh, so they’d had a little tidy up, Luke thought, and he looked over to Vince as he listened to Anya’s chest. ‘What medication is she on?’ Luke asked.

Vince gave Luke a short list that consisted of antianxiety medications and some light sleeping tablets.

‘So why are there no bottles or packets to be found?’ Luke pushed.

‘I give Anya her medication,’ Vince answered coolly. ‘I also have her on a strict regime of nutrients …’

‘We’ll get to them later,’ Luke snapped, as he started delivering vital drugs that might reverse anything Anya could have taken. ‘Any opiates?’

‘Only when her back injury is exacerbated.’

It would take pliers to extract any useful information from him, Luke was sure. ‘Get a toxicology screen,’ Luke said to Barbara, who was pulling blood as he listened to Anya’s chest.

‘Her chest sounds terrible.’ Luke was very concerned that the tube might be somewhat blocked. ‘I want to replace the tube.’ He wasn’t happy that the right size had been inserted or that, given Anya had vomited, the tube was clear, so he decided to reintubate her.

‘Watch the vocal cords!’ Vince warned.

The billion-dollar vocal cords!

Luke did not look up but Heather swallowed as she watched Luke’s jaw clamp down as he was delivered an unnecessary order.

Luke did not pause in his treatment plan, he just carried on with the procedure and then secured the tube, but he offered two words in response to a very unwelcome guest in his resuscitation room.

‘Get out.’

The celebrity physician did not.

Luke repeated his command, but added a couple of expletives this time, and everyone startled because Luke rarely showed emotion. He never really swore or raised his voice. He didn’t need to assert himself angrily. He just chose to now.

No one present could even guess at Luke’s true loathing for this man.

Luke listened to Anya’s chest again and, happy that the tube was in the correct position and that her air entry was better, he pulled off his stethoscope and asked Vince to repeat whatever it was he had just mumbled.

‘I’m not leaving Anya,’ he said.

‘Oh, but you are,’ Luke responded. ‘Unless you can tell me, right now, exactly what Anya has taken, and why it took so long for you to get her here, you are to leave my area now.’

Foolishly he did not.

David, the anaesthetist, arrived then and took over the care of Anya’s airway. Luke called for more anti-opiate and inserted that into Anya’s IV line and then awaited its effect.

‘Can we can call for Security?’ Luke said.

‘Security?’ Heather checked, knowing that they were busy outside and wondering why they might be needed in here.

‘I want him out,’ Luke responded, and as he did so he briefly turned to the unhelpful and unwelcome visitor in his emergency room who was diverting his concentration yet still refused to move.

Luke kicked at a silver metal trolley. It clattered into a wall and the implication was clear—Anya’s private physician would be leaving by any method that Luke saw fit to use.

Paul’s assessment had been right after all—the place was about to blow, only not for the reasons anyone had been expecting!

What the hell was going on with Luke?

‘You make me sick!’ Luke shouted, and, wisely perhaps, Vince chose to leave.

Everyone glanced at each other but Luke made no comment. He simply did all he could to focus his attention fully on Anya, who was on the very brink of death.

It was a long and lengthy resuscitation.

The drugs were reversed and her heart started beating but she had aspirated too. It was more than an hour before they had Anya under control. Then it was another fifteen minutes before she started to rouse and began gagging at the tube.

‘It’s okay, Anya,’ Luke said, and then blew out a long breath because for a while there he hadn’t thought that it would be. ‘You’re in hospital.’

Anya was fighting and confused, which were good signs—all her limbs were moving and her terrified eyes briefly met Luke’s before David put Anya into an induced coma.

‘I want her up on ICU,’ David said, and looked over at Heather, who was just returning from a lengthy phone call with Admin. ‘Can you call them and ask how long until they’re ready and then arrange to clear the corridor?’

Heather nodded. ‘I’ll get onto it now. Luke, will you speak to the press?’

Luke hated how normal policy seemed to have been thrown out of the window. He was certain, quite certain, without checking, that the department would have seen several drug overdoses overnight. He just loathed how everything had changed simply because of who Anya was.

‘I’ll speak with Anya’s family first,’ Luke said in response to her request.

Even Heather had the grace to blush. ‘I’ve put them all in the staffroom.’

‘Who?’ Luke checked.

‘Her manager, the vocal coach, her doctor, her bodyguards. Scarlet’s in there too.’

‘Scarlet’s her daughter,’ Paul added, because unless it was rugby or medicine, no doubt Luke wouldn’t have a clue who she was.

‘Okay, I’ll speak with her now,’ Luke said, as he binned his gloves and gown.

He walked out and although the department had grown busy in the hour or so that he had been working on Anya, all eyes were on Luke as he walked past. Everyone wanted to know what was going on and how Anya was.

Luke didn’t stop to enlighten them.

Instead, he walked around to the staffroom and saw that Anya’s huge entourage were all there on their phones. As Luke went to go in and speak with the daughter, one of them had the nerve to ask for his ID.

‘It’s your ID that I need here,’ Luke responded, and with that line he warned them how any dealings with him would be.

‘How is she?’ a frantic woman asked.

‘We’ve been waiting for more than an hour for an update,’ another person said.

Luke just ignored them and walked into the very full staffroom. ‘I’m Luke Edwards, I’ve been taking care of Anya. I’d like to speak with the immediate family.’

And there, in the midst of it all, she was.

Scarlet.

Still beautiful, Luke thought.

She was sitting, trembling, with her head in her hands. Even her cloud of black ringlets was shaking as her knees bobbed up and down. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings but then she suddenly looked up and her already pale face bleached further in recognition.

‘Luke?’

‘Luke Edwards,’ he said, doing all he could to keep them anonymous, to not let everyone present know the agony this was. ‘I’ve been treating your mother. Are there any other relatives?’ Luke checked.

Scarlet shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but no words came out so she shook her head again but then managed two words. ‘Just me.’

‘Then I’d like to speak to you alone.’

‘We need to know what’s going on,’ a woman said. ‘I’m Sonia, Anya’s manager.’

‘I’m speaking now with her next of kin.’

Luke’s stance was not one to be argued with. It wasn’t just that he was tall and broad—after all, there were far more burly bodyguards than he. More it was his implacable expression and cool disdain that had the manager step back and the path cleared for him to leave.