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Holly blinked and tried to concentrate on what the young woman was telling her. All she could think about was Mark and that last kiss that they’d shared.
Why? Why had he done that?
She checked the girl’s notes for a past history of cystitis.
Was he just making sure that Caroline was in no doubt about their relationship? Was he was just keeping up the act until they could find a convincing way of ending it all?
Forcing her mind back to the job, she tested the girl’s urine, sent off a midstream specimen to the laboratory for culture and gave her general advice on managing attacks.
It was late afternoon when Tina buzzed her and said that there was an extra patient who needed to be seen.
‘It’s a young man—Steven Hall—on holiday, cut himself. Do you mind Holly? He’s slightly the worse for wear, I’m afraid, but he seems quite affable.’
Holly stiffened. ‘Slightly the worse for wear’ obviously meant he’d been drinking, which could mean—
‘Send him through.’
The moment she opened the door, she recognised him as one of the teenagers who had been drinking on the boat the day of Mark’s rescue. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were bright.
Her throat dried and she stood to one side to let him pass. ‘You’d better sit down.’
It was either that or fall down if appearances were anything to go by.
‘Thanks, Nurse.’ He gave a gentle hiccup and plopped into the chair, gripping the sides to balance himself.
Holly relaxed slightly. Tina was right. He seemed affable enough. There was nothing to worry about.
‘So, what have you done to yourself?’ She tugged on a pair of gloves and moved closer, intending to examine his arm which was covered in a grubby towel.
‘Don’t touch it!’ He turned from affable to aggressive in less than a second and Holly stepped backwards, her heart pounding. In an instant the memories surged into her head and panic threatened to swamp common sense.
Part of her wanted to run and hide, but another part of her recognised that one day she was going to have to face up to her fears, and maybe today was the day. True, he was drunk, but that didn’t mean that anything was going to happen, she told herself firmly. He was verbally aggressive, but not physically—yet. She could handle it.
‘Steven?’ She took a deep breath and made her voice friendly and non-threatening. ‘You wanted to see someone about your arm. I can’t help you unless you let me look at it.’
He stood up and swayed slightly, obviously concentrating hard on not falling over. He smelt of alcohol and suddenly seemed to be having trouble focusing, his eyes drifting away from her as he spoke.
‘I need...’ He slurred his words and broke off and tried again. ‘I need you to sew up my arm—that’s all. I don’t need you to poke it around. And you’d better not hurt me.’
Holly felt her legs start to shake, and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing. Mark was just the other side of the corridor. He’d never let anything happen to her. She swallowed hard. But he didn’t know she needed him, did he? He wouldn’t know that she had a reason to be afraid because she’d never had the courage to face up to it all and tell him what had happened.
And now she was on her own with this man. And he was very drunk. Drunker than she’d first thought.
‘I need to examine it before I can tell you what treatment you need.’ Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and her palms were clammy. ‘How did you do it, Steven?’
She tried to keep her voice crisp and professional, hoping that he wouldn’t see how scared she was.
‘On a bottle, and—’ he swayed towards her slightly ‘—I’ve told you what treatment I need. I need stitches.’
Trying to control her breathing, Holly backed away from him, battling with the panic that gnawed away at her insides. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t do it. She needed Mark.
‘I’ll ask one of the doctors to come in.’
‘I don’t want a doctor.’ He stumbled slightly and grabbed her arm as she tried to slip past him, dragging her back in front of him. ‘You’ll do fine. You’re really, really pretty. Better looking than any doctor. And anyway, women are more gentle.’
‘Let me go!’ She tugged at her arm, wrinkling her nose in disgust as the alcohol fumes hit her in the face. His fingers tightened on her and she struggled to free herself, really afraid now. In a rush of terror she was transported back to that dreadful day, to the sudden tearing pain, the awful violence—‘No!’
The door opened suddenly and Mark paused briefly, his eyes darkening in anger as he took in the scene in front of him. With a low curse he strode across the room, dragging the youth away from her in one powerful movement.
