St Matthew's Passion - By Sam Archer Page 0,57
been drawing ever closer to one another.
People had stared at her as they’d passed her on the steps, seeing her in her casual non-surgical clothes and no doubt assuming she was a distraught relative who’d lost a loved one to some illness or other within the hospital. One or two people stooped to her, their faces concerned, but she’d smiled through her tears, thanked them for their kindness, assured them she was all right.
Fin wasn’t necessarily immediately out of danger. He was awake, and apparently compos mentis, but extensive tests would be needed to determine whether or not he’d sustained any lasting neurological damage that might affect his body or, perhaps more worryingly, his mind. The next couple of days would be the crucial period. So Melissa spent as much time as she could at his side in between his visits to various wards and departments where he underwent electroencephalograms, further MRI scans and a host of other investigations, and spent the rest of her time elsewhere in the hospital, eating or sleeping or simply going for walks to stretch her legs, staying close by in case Fin needed her.
It was in the afternoon after Fin woke up that Melissa was strolling down one of the long St Matthew corridors, keeping the circulation going in her still-exhausted limbs, when she heard footsteps approaching rapidly behind her. She turned. Emma was hurrying after her, clutching a newspaper.
‘Melissa! Have you seen this?’
Emma had herself volunteered for a double shift at work after the casualties of the Thames river incident, including Fin and Melissa, had been brought in, and she’d already shared Melissa’s joy at Fin’s awakening earlier that morning. Melissa took the paper from her. It was one of the national tabloids. The front page headline yelled, in huge letters: HOT SHOT DOC SAVES TOT. Beneath it was a slightly blurred photo, clearly taken by an amateur photographer using some sort of camera phone, which showed a bedraggled figure in the water, handing up a tiny shape to the outstretched arms of a policeman on a stationary speedboat. It was her, Melissa. She couldn’t even remember passing the child to the man.
Below the picture a subheading read: 29-YEAR-OLD SURGEON HAILED AS HERO. And: Full story on page 2.
‘Fame at last.’ Emma laughed in delight.
Melissa turned to the article. It was a small inset to the main story which was an overview of the accident, and mentioned her by name as well as the fact that she worked at St Matthew’s.
‘At least there’s no clear photo of me,’ she sighed.
‘Oh, just you wait,’ said Emma archly.
And she was right. One of the personnel officers from the Human Resources department tracked Melissa down half an hour later and told her a press statement was being prepared.
‘The media are interested in you, particularly, Ms Havers,’ said the woman. ‘There’ll be photographers crowding the hospital, reporters at your heels. We need to get you prepared for some questions.’
Melissa rolled her eyes. The last thing she wanted right now, the very last thing, with her emotions still in turmoil and fatigue trying to drag her under, was to get caught up in a media circus. But she listened to what the HR woman had to say.
She did one brief press interview that evening, astonished and not a little intimidated by the bristling forest of cameras and microphones that faced her across the conference room in the hospital’s offices. Melissa recited a pre-memorised account of what had happened, how she’d dived in and rescued the toddler - she didn’t mention that she couldn’t swim - and afterwards she fielded ten minutes’ worth of questions. Her pictures appeared in the late editions of the papers, and people told her the interview had been broadcast on the evening news on all the stations, though she didn’t watch any of the broadcasts.
That night, as she walked to and from her vigil at Fin’s bedside, she was cheered and slow-clapped wherever she went in the hospital, by staff of all professions and levels of standing. Even patients and their relatives did double takes as she passed by, whispering behind her back and pointing. Melissa responded graciously to begin with, but then, when the constant attention became wearying, tried to ignore it as best she could.
When she did finally venture home, at the insistence of not only Emma and Deborah and Professor Penney but Fin himself, she spotted the throng of reporters on the front steps just before she went through the doors.