I burst through the emergency room doors at a run, my eyes immediately going to the rows of chairs. Almost all of them were occupied, but not by the person I was looking for.
I was second in line at the desk, and the agitation of having to wait ramped up my anxiety even further.
‘I’mlookingforNatashaDavies,’ I said on a rush, forgetting to leave gaps between my words and rendering them almost indecipherable. Perhaps that happened a lot here, because the young man at reception appeared to have no trouble understanding me.
‘Are you a relative?’
‘Yes,’ I lied, without even a twinge of guilt.
‘She’s still in triage. You’ll find the rest of your family there with her.’
I followed his directions, rounded two corners, and then came to a stop so abrupt that the soles of my trainers probably left skid marks on the linoleum.
Standing outside a curtained cubicle were Rhys and Annalise. She was in his arms, sobbing against his shoulder. A wave of pure panic washed over me and for the worst five seconds of my life I thought we’d got there too late. Rhys’s face was ashen, and when I looked closer, the arms he had locked around Annalise seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright.
He must have somehow sensed my presence, for he looked up and his eyes found mine. It was a moment I knew I would remember for the rest of my life. He read the worst fears written across my face and answered them with a small reassuring shake of his head. The relief was so great it rocked me on my feet.
I was still struggling to find my missing equilibrium when Annalise realised they were no longer alone in the corridor. She turned in Rhys’s arms, and the look she gave me was so full of venom no antidote on the planet could have saved me.
‘What’s she doing here?’
‘Ellie drove me to the hospital,’ Rhys replied before I had a chance to defend my presence or apologise for it. I would probably have done both, but I never got the chance as the curtains of the cubicle were pulled aside and a medic in hospital scrubs addressed them.
‘Okay, Mum and Dad, you can come back in now.’
Rhys shot a look my way which was too fleeting to interpret as the couple returned to their daughter’s bedside.
Even from halfway down the corridor I could hear Annalise, her voice brittle with panic as she fired questions at the doctors. I strained to hear the answers, but they were speaking in low, measured tones, designed not to travel to the ears of outsiders.
And that was what I was here. I was under no illusions about that. This was a family drama, and the two lead roles had both been cast many years ago. I had no part to play. I turned to go, managed three steps, and then pivoted on my heel. I couldn’t leave. Not yet. But I wasn’t insensitive to what Annalise must be going through. She’d probably be surprised to hear it, but the last thing I wanted to do was make an awful situation even worse.
I found a vacant chair at the end of a row and claimed it. Minutes clicked past, turning into hours. I passed the time deconstructing the plans we’d made, cancelling cabs, flights, and then our hotel reservation. Even if this was another false alarm... please let that be what it is... there was no way Rhys would want to go away now. It had been the one non-negotiable I’d insisted upon from the very beginning of us: Tasha had to come first. Every single time.
I would have thought it impossible, given where I was and how uncomfortable the waiting room chairs were, but unbelievably, as the department emptied and grew quieter, I actually drifted off to sleep.
I woke with a start to the feel of a hand on my shoulder and jerked out of a dream, disorientated and confused until I looked up and found the one face that could always settle the worst of my panic.
‘You’re still here,’ Rhys said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.
It felt like someone had glued my tongue to the roof of my mouth while I slept.
‘Of course I’m here,’ I said thickly. ‘I couldn’t leave. How’s Tasha?’
He looked bone-shatteringly weary but less distraught than before. I crossed my fingers surreptitiously and hoped it meant the news was good.
‘They moved from oxygen therapy to giving her nebulised medication. Her last reading was ninety-six.’ He was speaking a language I was unfamiliar with, but the relief in his eyes told me it was all positive news.
‘That’s good,’ I said.
‘They’re keeping her in though. She’ll be going up to PICU shortly so they can keep a close eye on her.’ He read the confusion in my eyes. ‘Paediatric Intensive Care Unit.’
I hoped I was awake enough not to let my concern show. If Tasha needed intensive care, she still wasn’t out of the danger I was certain I’d put her in.
‘But she’s doing better? She’s going to be alright?’
It was a total mix-up of roles. I should be the one reassuring him, not the other way around. But sick children were something I had zero experience of. I could scarcely cope with well ones. I was so out of my depth here, doggy-paddling like crazy and trying not to drown in unfamiliar waters.
‘She will be, but I think we’re going to need a more effective plan going forward.’