Prologue

Life is about decisions. Every single day we make thousands of them, either consciously or not and our decisions are based on what drives us. They are colored by our morals, our values, our principles, the things that makes us tick and distinguish us from others. We decide to get out of bed or not, when the alarm clock wakes us; we decide to go out on a date with that new guy from work; we even decide to be in a bad mood or not, even though it does not always feel that way and we believe it is the circumstances that make us act a certain way.
So, life is a continuous chain of decisions and choices that undoubtedly have consequences. Most of these are a simple result of the decisions made – like arriving late at work because we pressed the snooze button a few times too many and we are running late to catch our train; or to work longer to catch up and discovering we will be too late to buy some milk afterwards as the shop on the corner will be closed. It is like the line in that song: 'Turn a different corner and we never would have met.'

It is like the movie 'Sliding Doors'

and observing that our life could have been very different if we would have waited just a little longer or had left the house a few minutes earlier. In some cases it may even be the difference between life and death, like missing the plane that eventually crashed!
Fortunately most of our decisions are easy with relatively far reaching consequences, yet some decisions can alter our lives forever, although never foreseen or predicted, sometimes we end up in situations when we have to make a decision that feels right, aligns with who we are, yet, when looking back we may question ourselves if we would have made that same decision again if we truly had known the outcome beforehand. As we do not live in a world on our own and are continuously interacting with others, our decisions will without a doubt, affect others. This is a story about such a decision and how my life and those of many others were effected. You may ask me if I would do the same again and believe me, I have asked myself that question many times. You will find my story here and you can ask yourself the same, because you never know: one day you may too be faced with such a decision. Simple perhaps in the moment itself, yet with consequences you could never have known about....and perhaps you will think again before making your next decision. I am Elissa Lang and this is my story.

1
Discovery

Finally, my shift was over and after having provided handover to Susan, the night nurse, I was allowed to go home after a busy evening on one of the Medical/Surgical Wards in my local hospital. I used to work there as a permanent member of staff for years until I decided two years ago to join a Nursing Agency and explore a more flexible form of working that suited my altered circumstances. My marriage had broken down and I had a young son to look after, so Agency Nursing was a much better choice than staying in my permanent position that unfortunately did not allow a lot of flexibility from my employer – at least not the flexibility I was looking for. I did not regret joining the Agency as I enjoyed the freedom, the variety of the work on offer – good for keeping up my skills – and, of course, a better pay system than a permanent job in nursing would ever give me.
Working that night in my 'old' place was certainly a nice experience as it was good to catch up with some former colleagues who still seemed to be very happy were they were. It was obvious that there was quite a lot of building work going on at the hospital: they were creating a new Out Patients Department Area on the ground floor and the ward I had been working on that night - 3rd floor west wing - a Medical/Surgical ward, was in the final stages of refurbishment. In the previous months the layout of the department had been changed, all patients rooms had received a fresh lick of paint, new furniture and state of the art beds had been installed – with various functions to make life easier on hardworking nurses' backs - and a new Nursing Station and treatment room were almost up an running. During my shift I had still seen a couple of workmen, trying to get everything finished. It wasn't always easy to have them around whilst trying to do your job, as a lot of the time they had to be interrupted by us so we could get on with our work looking after patients, which took priority above everything else. The interruptions were tolerated by the workmen, but certainly not always appreciated. I thought I had recognized one of the workmen as a good friend of my ex-husband Chen. I hadn't been completely sure as this workmen had a goatee and his hair was much longer then the man I remembered, but when I hesitantly asked him if he was Wong, explaining who I was with the necessary referrals to Chen, he shook his head and in broken English just said: “No, my name Lau!Me no Wong!”
I made my way to the changing rooms and decided to have a shower before embarking on the road home. Noami, my child minder, would be waiting for me to come home and I was looking forward to see Kai, my little boy, now four years old and getting more cuter every day – and naughtier for that matter! I got out of my dirty nurses uniform and discarded it in the laundry bin. I picked up a set of towels from the rack and took my toiletry bag with shower gel and shampoo to the nearest shower cubicle. I enjoyed the warm water rinse my body from the work that night. Although we nurses wash our hands at least a thousand times a day and rub our hands in alcoholic disinfectant gels whenever we can, there is still nothing better than a long hot shower at the end of a busy shift. First I thought that the noise I was hearing was from the shower itself or from perhaps some building work still being carried out, but I discarded the latter thought, knowing that by now this would have stopped as the workmen should have left once the nursing night shift has arrived and patients were to be ensured at least good night's rest whenever possible. So I more or less ignored it and carried on lathering my body with the foamy gel and rinse myself with the hot water. I let out a deep sigh of wellbeing when I turned off the tap and rubbed myself dry with the fluffy towels. As I wrapped my hair in one of the towels and made my way back to my locker to get dressed, I heard the noise again: it sounded like a whimper, it was very faint but definitely there. I stopped in my tracks and kept as quiet as I could in order to listen more carefully. It had stopped again. A a few minutes later, having dressed and having combed my wet dark blond hair, deciding against drying it - I just tied it up loosely with my hair clip - I heard the noise again and I softly walked in the direction I believed the sound was coming from.
I walked all the way towards the end of the corridor of shower cubicles and there, at the far end was a larger space. A shower curtain was drawn closed and I hesitated for a moment before I pushed the curtain aside. For a split second I was a little apprehensive to do so, not quite sure what to find, briefly reminded of the classic movie 'Psycho'.

Nothing however, could have prepared me for what I was about to discover, and, as I shoved the shower curtain aside, I saw an old woman lying in the empty bathtub. She was wearing a patient's gown and was haphazardly covered by a thin blanket. It looked like she had tried to get up or roll around but had not managed to do so except for ending up more disheveled and she was partly rolled up in the blanket and partly exposed. Her skin colour was very pale with a blue tinge to her lips and fingers and I immediately knew I needed to seek help. My mind was suddenly in high alert and emergency mode! I quickly ran back to the towel rack and grabbed more towels to cover the old woman to at least try to keep her warm. I felt for her pulse and asked her if she was alright. She barely responded, except for the whimpering sound that I had heard since taking my shower and, after establishing that she was still breathing and had a reasonable pulse, I quickly ran back to the department. The nursing station was deserted and I knew that Susan, who had taken over from the evening shift of which I had been part of that night with three other nurses, must be on one of her rounds. I searched for one of the telephones, normally situated on the desk but this time frightfully absent from their usual place. I then suddenly remembered the workmen that had been busy with some of the final touches of the refurbishment. Where on earth was the phone? I needed to get help! I looked around the corridor, aware that Susan could be in any of the rooms and I would have to check every single one of them only knowing I would loose valuable time whilst an old woman was in serious need of help and medical attention. I turned to the other side of the corridor and just saw one of my colleagues of that evening come out of the male changing rooms. I sprinted towards him as he was making his way to the lifts and shouted: “Thomas, please wait, I need your help!” Thomas had turned around as he heard my voice and, as I reached him I said between breaths: “Thomas, you got to help me, there is a patient in the female changing rooms. She is in the bathtub, probably hypothermic and she needs medical attention. You were in charge tonight, how did she get there?”
Thomas looked at me in annoyance. He was dressed in a nice suit and smelled heavily of aftershave. It was obvious that he had plans for the rest of the evening.
“You have to ask Susan to give you a hand. I have a 'hot date'

and I am already running late!”, he answered, raising his brows in a suggestive manner when he said 'hot date'. He then added:“Trisha and Carly were possibly looking after that patient. They were very busy on their section of the ward, as they had a lot of admissions and I was quite busy with a patient who needed to go back to theatres for further surgery. So you need to speak to them. I have to go now!”
“Trisha and Carly have already left and you can't just leave me like this Thomas?” I replied. “Susan is busy, she is on her rounds, I need help NOW. This is a emergency!”
“Sorry, I always stay on late and have to sort things out, but not tonight! I am going now. You can handle it.” Thomas said with a wink and he quickly popped into the lift as it arrived on our floor. I looked at him in utter astonishment as he said just before the lift doors closed: “Call Angela, the Sister in Charge, she will help”. I wanted to tell him that there was no phone, so how was I supposed to call anyone, but I was too late, the indicator above the lift showed that Thomas was well on his way down.
“Unbelievable”, I muttered to myself and I quickly ran back to the female changing rooms to check on the old lady. I looked for an ID band but could not remember seeing one on the lady's wrist earlier. Perhaps it had come undone whilst she had been trying to move about. I spoke to her and asked her if she could hear me and what her name was, but this time she seemed less responsive than before. I grabbed for my bag and got out my mobile phone and decided to dial the hospital's emergency line. If I had been able to use a normal hospital phone I could have just dialed the Crash Call number, but with no phones present I had to think and act quickly. Having worked in a various hospitals when working as an Agency Nurse, you come to understand that there are a lot of differences between all the hospitals and the way their emergency systems run. As I had worked in this hospital for a long time before I had joined the Agency, I could still remember the different numbers and 989 could be used from any phone, including mobiles, to report any problems: from needing assistance with a violent patient or relative, to reporting a theft, as long as the 'emergency' wasn't a Cardiac Arrest or Fire. It had always worked quite well in the sense that it separated the real urgent matters, that is the life and death situations, from any other occurrences, plus most people could remember it, as it looked very similar to the national 999 emergency call. I hoped by dialing 989 I would get at least some help my way, despite probably preferring the Crash Team in this case. As I ran back to the ward, my phone in hand, I heard a voice say: “What is your emergency?” “Urgent assistance needed on the third floor west wing, fema...” I couldn't finish my sentence as I had dropped my phone, whilst trying to push open the door of the treatment room and finding it partly blocked. Bloody workmen, I swore under my breath. My phone's back cover had come undone and as fast as I could, I tried to piece it together and dialed again. Once more, I got through and although being aware that this time the reception was not as good as it had been the first time, I said again at the prompt: “Urgent assistance needed on the third floor west wing, female changing rooms!” I pressed 'end call' and looked around in the treatment room. As fast as I could, I took a trolley from the corner of the room and loaded it with various bits and pieces I thought I would need: a few bags of intra venous fluids, an intra venous giving set, a few cannulas, and some tape. It took me a little longer than I anticipated as everything seemed to be stored at the wrong place – very likely another result of the workmen's presence. I even found a phone, but it had no lead to plug back into the socket. I also took a portable monitor, an oxygen cylinder with a face mask and, on my way back to the changing rooms, I took some warm blankets from the hot cabinet that was situated alongside the corridor. Just as I was ready to enter the changing rooms, I saw Susan emerge from one if the rooms.
“Sue, there is a sick patient in the female changing rooms. Can you call the crash team please! There is no phone at the reception desk and I need some help here!”
Susan looked surprised for a moment, as if I was playing a prank on her, seeing me in my ordinary clothes and not in nursing uniform, and still damp hair, she probably had not recognized me initially. But as she had known me for many years, she would take my word for it and do what I had asked her to do as I made my way back to the old lady ready to see if I could at least do something for her that would improve her current status.
I tried to rouse her again, only to get a very faint whimper in return. I took the oxygen cylinder, opened the flow valve , connected the face mask and gently put this onto the lady's face. Oxygen is our source of life, without it we will die. When someone is in a poor condition, sick, cold or feverish, the body's oxygen consumption is increased and vital organs can be at risk especially in children and the elderly. I continuously spoke to the woman, reassuring her and telling her what I was doing even though I was not sure if she was truly hearing what I was saying. I took the warm blankets and wrapped them around her, hoping they would transfer some of the warmth to the poor cold woman. I had no idea how long she had been lying there but knew that any given time being exposed to a cold empty bathtub would made anyone feel like freezing after a while, leave alone on a winter's night! I was seriously worried about the woman and convinced she was severely hypothermic

. Hypothermia is a condition characterized by a core body temperature lower than 35 degrees Celsius. When untreated, the body's metabolism and natural functions will significantly slow down and eventually cease, and if not treated, very likely result in death.
The next thing I did was trying to find a suitable vein and get venous access

. This is important in order to get either fluids or medicines into the body in the fastest possible way. Especially in emergency situations, having established venous access can be the difference between life or death and this was a serious emergency situation. As I expected, the peripheral veins were hardly palpable and very hard to find, a sign that she was shut down, which meas that the body was trying to keep the main supply of the blood circulation focused to the vital organs by constricting the peripheral veins of the body. This is a pure survival reaction, but in the case of getting venous access a serious hindrance. It was also quite a balancing act: I was just not able to insert an intra venous cannula by being positioned outside the bathtub, so I carefully had positioned myself inside the bath with her, careful not to sit on her, hurt or injure her by accident. Only then was I able to have a good position for venous access and after tapping her arm for a while, as this can make veins more palpable, I could very faintly feel something and I was just inserting the cannula when three people with the crash trolley arrived. The Resuscitation Team was here! I secretly thanked Susan for doing as I had asked, despite her stunned expression.
“What do we have here?” asked one of the team members, his name was listed on his uniform as John, SHO.
“I am not quite sure,” I responded, connecting the intra venous fluids to the cannula I had just managed to insert.
“I found this lady here as I was ready to leave for home after my shift tonight. She must be a patient, deducting from the gown. I have no idea how long she has been here and how she got here!” I added as I climbed out of the bath.
“Are you agency?”, he questioned.
“Yes, I am, but I used to work here permanently for many years”, I answered, aware that I sounded defensive.
“I just managed to get venous access,” I said.
“Well done,” said one of the nurses as she slapped the monitor pads on the old lady's chest and connected the ECG leads.
“Maybe you can find out who this woman is and we can take it from here!” said John authoritatively, addressing me and glancing at me suspiciously.
“As I told you, I have no idea! Perhaps we may find her ID band once we have taken her out of this bathtub! She may be lying on it!” I said.
“I would also like to know who this woman is!”, said a deep voice behind us.
All of us turned around and looked at the man who had just entered the female changing rooms. He was dressed in a grey suit covered by a dark winter coat. His hair was black but showed signs of grey at the temples. He had light piercing eyes.
“I am DCI Milton. Someone dialed 999?” he explained.
John, the SHO, looked at me: “Did you call the police

?”
“No, I never!” I replied.
“Well, someone did!” DCI Milton said.
As the crash team was ready to transfer the old lady onto the height adjustable trolley, I helped them with getting the lady across. John told me in very few words they – the Crash Team – would take it from there. He still tried to push me to find out more about the patient! I looked at the bathtub, now empty with the lady safe on a trolley: there was no sign of an ID band anywhere!

2
Interrogation part 1

DCI Milton asked for my name, which I gave him and he told me that he would appreciate it if I could also provide him with the names of the people of the crash team and any other staff members working there that evening and night. Then he asked me if there was a place he could talk to me first, as I had been the one to have found the old lady. John nodded as to indicate it was alright for me to do so.
“We are fine now and will take the woman to ITU”, John said. Once on the trolley, connected up to a monitor, with oxygen administered and with warm fluids running into her veins, the Crash Team quickly ran through the corridor into the direction of the ITU department where she would receive further care and treatment. My offer to come with them seemed to fall on deaf ears and I was left a little deflated, seeing them disappear. I sighed deeply, looked at DCI Milton and said:“I suppose we can go to the Nursing Station, if that is alright with you.” He nodded and followed me down the corridor.
“Is there somewhere more private?” Milton asked as he looked at the open plan layout of the Nursing Station.
“Eh, let me think! Yes, we could use the small office at the back behind the Nursing Station or the treatment room”, I replied. “I have to check though, they have been refurbishing the department and there are still areas where they have not completely finished yet”, I added.
As the office at the back seemed full with stored items, old and new – drip stands, monitors, lamps and bedside cabinets- plus various painting and decorating materials, we decided on the treatment room, which was, after having more or less plundered it to get my vital pieces of equipment and consumables to help the old lady, only a slightly better alternative than the office. I attempted a little tidying up and managed to get two chairs from the Nursing station for us to sit on. DCI Milton took out a note book and asked me to start from the beginning. So I told him the story as it had unfolded.
“Why did you ring 999 Miss Lang?”, he asked.
“It is Mrs Lang, but you can call me Elissa if you want”, I replied.
“OK, Elissa, why did you dial 999?”
“I didn't”, I answered. “I dialed 989 which is the hospital's emergency number. It can be used for various calls for help or assistance. I noticed that there was no phone I could use to raise the alarm due to the building work still being carried out. Thomas, one of my colleagues I worked with this night and who had been in charge, was already on his way out of the hospital. Susan, the nurse on the night shift, who had taken over from the evening staff, was already on her rounds and trying to find her would have meant loosing valuable time, so I choose the next possible option, and as you can dial 989 from any phone, it seemed the best I could do in the given circumstances. Crash calls, fire emergencies and the like can only be dialed using the internal hospital system. I was lucky I saw Susan after all, when I was on my way back to the old lady, which was after I had made my call. I still asked her to get the crash team if she could.” I added.
Milton made notes as he continued his questioning:
“When I entered the changing rooms, I gathered from the conversation I witnessed, that you and the other staff present do not know this old lady?”
“No, I don't. I found her in that bathtub – poor thing – and I did not find an ID on her and there was none when we transferred her to the trolley! I should try and find out though, knowing who she is and in particular her medical history, as this may be very important in regards to her treatment!”, I added.
Milton looked at me, his eyes were blue or grey and he had the habit of holding his gaze locked onto mine as to try and prize out anything hidden or suspicious. I couldn't help wondering that with a stare like that he could make anyone believe that he could penetrate their mind and find out what they were thinking of. Any lie would possibly be detected by this man, I thought. But what was I thinking, I was not lying and I had nothing to hide.
“How important?”, he questioned.
“Well, she could have allergies for instance, say to certain drugs. If we do not know about these there is a serious risk she could be given drugs she may react to and die as a result of that – that is the worst case scenario by the way!” I clarified.

Understanding the potential urgency, he then suggested to continue questioning me later and for me to do whatever it was to find out who the lady was. He told me he would come back later. He asked me the directions to the ITU department, which I gave him before he got up and walked away, emphasizing I should not leave until he had finished questioning me. Initially I did not really know where to start but that situation more or less resolved itself as Susan appeared and told me that Angela Griffin and Matron were on their way. Angela was the Sister in Charge that night for the whole of the hospital. She had already been informed by Susan what had happened and had been trying to contact Thomas, Trisha and Carly. I still asked Susan if she knew who the old lady could be, but she was as much in the dark about it as I was. She confirmed that the lady definitely had not been any patient of Thomas or other two nurses – there was basically no information about her whatsoever and what puzzled us even more, was who and why had she been put in the female changing rooms in an empty bath tub! Both Susan and I were convinced that the old woman had been in no state to have managed to get there by herself, so that left only one conclusion: someone or likely more than one person had put her there! Susan and I talked about what other options we had as to where the old woman could have come from – perhaps the Hospice or one of the Geriatric Wards - but we both did not want to step on anyone's toes and start making calls ourselves, whilst this was left better in the hands of the Sister in Charge or better, Matron.
As I was contemplating to call home and inform my child minder about the delay, DCI Milton returned and asked me if I was free to answer more of his questions. I nodded and we returned to the treatment room. He briefly asked me if I had managed to find out anything about the old woman and I shook my head. Susan got back to her rounds and her duties for that night. She needed to catch up on quite a few things, having been delayed by the events of the night. Milton was quick enough to remind her that he wanted a word with her too, whenever that was convenient. Knowing she would not go anywhere until the day shift would come on duty again, reassured him that there would be time to speak to her at some stage that evening or night.
“Do you know how your colleague, what's her name, eh, Susan -I will need her full name by the way- managed to call the Crash Team when there was no phone as you said?” Milton continued.
I blinked under his gaze and suddenly wondered too how Susan had done so. “I, eh, I don't know actually. She may have gone to the East wing, on the other side of the main hall, and use one of their phones!” I suggested. “Oh, and her name is Armstrong , Susan Armstrong!” I added.
“I need to get from you all the names and contact details of those who were working here besides yourself tonight, as we will need to ask them a few questions too”, he said.
“Of course”, I said and I explained to DCI Milton that the Sister in Charge was already dealing with this.
“Would you remember the approximate time you are claiming to have found the old lady?” Milton asked next.
“Claim

to have found?” I questioned, raising my voice slightly. “I am not claiming to have found her, I did

find her! I was in the shower, as I told you, ready to go home after that. I heard a noise and followed where it came from and found the poor woman! Are you insinuating I was the one who put her there?”
“It is just a question Mrs Lang. I do believe you found her!” Milton commented.
I paused before continuing, remembering his question again and feeling less defensive after his comment: “I can only guess what time it was when I discovered her. Let's see, I must have finished handover just after nine. I then had my shower which possibly took me no longer that ten minutes. Perhaps another few minutes to get changed and do my hair. Maybe it was around a quarter or twenty minutes past nine.”
A thought suddenly struck me! “Wait a minute!” I said, “I can check the call log on my mobile phone. I can find out exactly when I made the 989 call. It would have been after going back to the lady to check up on her after being unsuccessful in getting to a phone and no help from Thomas!”
As I was speaking to Milton I had retrieved my phone, touched some of the buttons and opened up my call log. I couldn't help that a blush of embarrassment crossed my face: it was very evident from the display that the second time I had made the call, after I had dropped my phone, I had indeed dialed 999 and not 989, as I had thought! I also noticed various missed calls as the 999 operator had obviously tried to get back in touch with me, likely to get more information, a name and location, but I had been too busy and, as I usually put my phone on silent mode when at work, I would not have known someone was trying to call me.
“Is there anything wrong Mrs Lang?” asked Milton inquisitively, no doubt having seen me blush.
“Sorry, I apologize. It looks like I did dial 999 after all! And please call me Elissa, Mrs Lang sounds old.” I said again whilst handing him my phone, so he could see for himself. He took the phone and made a note of the times: first the 989 call that I had not been able to finish, next the 999 call. He took his time.
I explained to him what had happened and also told him I had been convinced that I had called 989 the second time. It had never occurred to me that anything was wrong or different as the the hospital's 989 prompts tends to be so similar to that of a 999 call, I added. It now explained to me the altered reception I had encountered, which for an internal call would indeed have been a little strange.
DCI Milton just looked at me, held my eyes with his gaze and then nodded before jotting down some more notes and handing me my phone back.

A knock on the door made both of us turn around and look up as Susan opened it. “Sorry”, she said, “The Sister in Charge and Matron are here”.
Behind her two women appeared, one tall and slim, somewhere in her forties with reddish blond hair tied into a bun and a face with soft features and deep set eyes – I knew her as Angela Griffin, the Sister in Charge – and at the back an older, shorter and plumper woman with short hair that was obviously dyed black to hide the grey – this was Ms Coulton, the Matron of Eastfield's Hospital for the past 15 years. Ms Coulton looked like she was ready to explode, her face was red of contained anger and her dark eyes looked like thunder as she moved forward into the treatment room, passing Angela and, despite her shorter posture, managed to look almost twice her size.
“Nurse Lang, we need to have a serious word with you about violating hospital policy!” Matron voiced to me in a tone that quivered with hidden emotion.
“And who are you

and what are you doing here?” she asked haughtily, this time directing her posture and vision towards DCI Milton.
“I am DCI Milton and I am investigating attempted murder”, he said calmly.
“Murder?” Matron, Angela and I said at the same time. Susan caught my eyes and raised her eyebrows. I shook my head and raised my shoulders in response.
“I never called to report a murder”, I said strongly.
“I know”, answered Milton, looking at me. “You requested urgent assistance specifying this floor and the female changing rooms. Our 999 operator tried to call you back several times to obtain more information but were not successful.” God, did he had to rub it in, I thought.
“However, that was not why and how we, that is my Sargent and I, arrived here. A little before Mrs Lang's 999 call we had received another call, informing us that a murder was about to take place in Eastfield's Hospital on the 3rd floor! Something that initially would have been followed up by a team of uniformed Police Officers. However, my Sargent and I were in the area and some of our uniformed staff are currently a little busy elsewhere, when your call – he looked at me as he said so – was finally traced back to this hospital, so we decided to check it out. We considered it a little bit of a coincidence that two calls came in, regarding something serious as 'murder in progress' or 'urgent assistance', for the same hospital. So that's what I am here for to find out! And your name is?”, he asked, looking at Matron.
“I am Mildred Coulton, Matron of this hospital and that – she pointed towards Angela – is Angela Griffin, she is the Sister in Charge tonight”,
“You have no authority here at this stage”, continued Matron, adding, that as far as she knew the patient was very much alive and currently looked after and cared for by the hospital's brilliant ITU doctors and staff. So, therefore there was no case of murder for Milton to investigate. She also pointed out that if I had followed correct hospital policy, I would have called the Sister in Charge, who then would have called her and it would have been her who would have decided on whether the police needed to be involved or not. She concluded that she was thankful for Milton's quick response to the phone calls, but that from here on, the hospital was able to deal with the matter themselves. She then turned to me and snapped: “Nurse Lang, my office! Now!”.
DCI Milton jumped in quickly: “Ms Coulton, I fully understand the position you are in, however, I still have to investigate the calls made, whether made by one of your staff members or not. There is no turning back at this stage!”
Matron turned around and looked DCI Milton in the eye. After a few seconds she said: “Very well, I suppose you have to do your job. But you have to promise me that you will liaise with me at all times and need to keep me informed about all your dealings during your investigation. The allegations made are very serious and the hospital's reputation is at stake here, so I need to be kept informed at all times!”
“Fair enough”, replied Milton. “Do I have you permission to question a few other people tonight? At least those who were working here now and earlier in the night?”
“Yes, that will be fine. Sister Griffin will help you with that. I need to speak to Nurse Lang first!” Matron answered.
As Matron made her way out of the treatment room towards her office on the first floor, I obediently followed her in silence, knowing that I was in for a serious reprimand for not having followed hospital policy. Yes, I was a little scared, not of Matron herself, but more for the possible consequences. Maybe she would decide to no longer use my services as Agency Nurse, despite my many years of impeccable service before, when I was working as a permanent member of staff. She would also have to explain to the agency why she would not want me back and that could mean that even the Agency would decide on terminating their contract with me. Once in Matron's office my worst fears became a reality: because of the breach of hospital policy I was told that my services were no longer needed and that she would inform the agency of her reasons to do so. My explanations that all I had done was to raise the alarm to get some help. There had been no telephone due to the refurbishment finishing touches still being in process and no immediate staff available to give me a hand. I also had not intentionally dialed 999 as this was just an unfortunate mistake. I had left out Thomas' refusal to help me, as I did not want him to get in trouble with Matron too – he would likely be questioned by DCI Milton anyway and that was more than enough in my opinion. She wasn't very understanding about any of my explanations and was more concerned about the current police presence and the effects this could potentially have on the Hospital's reputation.
She dismissed me with a quick wave of her hand, letting me know that I could leave the office and as I left she picked up the phone on her desk and made a phone call.
Al least her office has a phone, I thought. Things could have been so different tonight if there had been a phone or even a panic button near the office. My thought wondered off to the woman left in the empty bathtub – no nurse would do something like that – or would they? Well, if they did, they should not be in the profession at all, I thought. It would be classified as professional neglect or abuse, so maybe the police had something to investigate anyway. I felt the anger rise in me as I made my way back to the ward to pick up my bag and then go home.
“Are you OK?” asked Susan, when I reached the Nursing Station having returned from Matron's office.
“Not really”, I replied. “Matron has made it very clear to me that I am no longer welcome here and she will also inform the Agency, so perhaps I will even be out of work completely”.
“That's so unfair! You just did what you thought was right!” said Susan.
“Well, Matron doesn't see it that way. She thinks I should have tried to get help directly, likely meaning I should have gone through the proper channels like calling Angela first and then Angela could have organized anything else. She did not seem to understand that if I was not able to call the Crash Team because there was no phone, I also would not have been able to call Angela?” I said to Susan.
“I also explained to Matron that I had not meant to call the Police, that it had been a serious mistake and I only discovered it when I was checking my phone!” I added.
“They should have let you know about that phone!”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Thomas knew and the girls, well, most of us do, as we are here all the time. You have not been here for a while as you are Agency and with the refurbishments and so on. They still should have let you know. You see, I have a special hands free phone with me on my rounds, so did Thomas tonight. They should have let you know!” Susan said again, with guilt in her voice.
“Oh my God! You had a phone with you all that time and so did Thomas!” I said. I paused, allowing myself to think for a moment before saying:“Then again, it would not have made a huge difference though, Susan. You were on your rounds and I still would have had to try and find you in each and every room and Thomas, well, he was on his way out! So never mind! It's done now. I guess I should go home. Did you speak to DCI Milton by the way?”
“Yes, I did. That's why I was mentioning the phone. He was curious as to why I could get hold of the Crash Team so quickly and you were not able to do so!”
“God, that man can make you look or feel guilty without having done anything wrong”, I responded.
“Still, Elissa, it is pretty unfair of Matron to blame you for the Police presence? From what the detective was saying earlier, it was another call, plus the fact that they traced your call back to this Hospital, that they came her to investigate!” Susan said.
“Anyway, I am going home now” I said to Susan. “Poor Naomi, my child minder, she'll be wondering what has taken me so long tonight.”
“How's you son, Elissa?” Susan asked.
“Getting bigger, being very cute and very naughty” I replied with a faint smile.
“When will you be back?”
“Your guess is as good as mine! At the moment I will probably have to wait until my Agency has received Matron's report about why I am no longer able to work here. What a mess hey!”
Susan looked at me with sympathy: “Take care Elissa! I will have a word with the others, perhaps we can put in a good word for you”.
“Thanks for trying, I appreciate it if you do, but don't get your hopes up. Matron is a tough cookie! See you Susan”.
We hugged each other and then I made my way to the stairwell, I couldn't even be bothered with waiting for a lift to take me down to the basement. Instead, I ran down the stairs to the underground parking lot. I got out my car keys and got into my car. Before embarking on my journey home I made a quick phone call. After three rings someone picked up.
“Naomi, it's me. I am on my way now. Sorry it's later than expected. It was a busy evening. I'll make it up to you when I get home, alright. How is my little boy? Sleeping peacefully! Thanks Naomi, see you soon!”
I started the car and drove off home. Home where at least some of my life would feel a better place than the last couple of hours at work in the hospital. Home, where I just might be able to escape my feelings of apprehension and foreboding.

3
Reputation

When I woke up the following morning, it took me a little while to realize that I did not have to get ready that day for my previously booked shift and that perhaps I needed to inform the Agency as to what had happened the night before. That realization made me feel slightly depressed and I was almost inclined to turn over and try to sleep a little longer. However, once I am awake my mind gets active and I find it very hard to switch off again and, despite lying in my bed for a while in the faint hope I could return to the oblivion of sleep, I decided to get up. My brain was already working overtime and once again, as I had done many times on my return home the night before, after having given Naomi something extra for staying on so much longer to look after my son and after planting a soft kiss on my sleeping son's face before heading for bed myself, I went over every detail of that evening and questioned myself if I could have done things differently.

The sudden ring of the telephone brought me back to reality and I picked it up. It was DCI Milton to ask me if I could meet him for some further questions. I was a little taken aback. What further questions could there be? Had I mentioned something that was incorrect? I was thinking, whilst agreeing to come to the hospital and meet him there as he would be conducting further sessions with other staff members there that morning.
I phoned Naomi and informed her that I perhaps needed her services after all that day, even though I had explained to her in vague terms the night before, that I may no longer need her to look after Kai until some work issues were resolved. Naomi was, however, very happy to step in again and I am truly blessed to have found someone like her. She is the oldest daughter of my neighbors, Maria and Bob Fairgrove, and she can always do with a little extra money babysitting whilst she is studying law at Oxbridge University. She is a very responsible eighteen year old and always prepared to help out, plus the fact that Kai loves her to bits is a bonus too.
When I reached the hospital I felt a sense of apprehension. Matron had made it very clear the night before that I was no longer welcome in the hospital, however, I was not coming here to work. I somehow still felt like a trespasser when I entered the main entrance and made my way up to the 3rd floor. As I got out of the lift I saw the Chinese workman I remembered as called Lau, arguing with his colleague. When they saw me they quickly continued working as if what I had witnessed had not happened. It wasn't an unusual scene. Most employees know that acting in a professional manner is very important and that rows or arguments in public areas can be seen as unprofessional behavior and a possible reason for suspension, especially in a private Hospital like Eastfield's, as the clients using the hospital's services were of a certain standing and were expecting a high caliber service! They would not appreciate seeing employees, whether a porter, a nurse of a doctor, having rows in corridors! It appeared to be busy: nurses were walking through the corridor and several staff members were busy around the Nursing Station. I was aware of the sound of phones and it made me curious as to how in just one night not only one but several phones were stationed on the desk in full and complete working order, or so it seemed. Some staff members looked up from what they were doing as I approached the desk and it suddenly went very quiet. Eyes hooked on me and faces did not look particularly pleased to see me. In the treatment room a few workmen were busy installing a special Pharmacy cupboard for Controlled Drugs and a couple of sealed boxes from pharmacy were positioned on the surface of one of the treatment tables. One of the nurses in the room seemed to keep a close eye on everything.
“Hi,” I said to the man dressed in a charge nurse uniform, but I did not know him, “I am here to see DCI Milton?”. “I am Elissa Lang”.
“Are you Nurse Lang from the Agency?”he questioned.
“Yes, I am. I used to work here permanently though for a long time”, I added.
“You shouldn't have come here. Matron has been very clear in her instructions that you are no longer needed in this hospital” he said to me.
“I am not here to work. I am here to see DCI Milton, he has some further questions for me”, I explained, trying to stay calm and polite.
“Yeah, about murdering old ladies perhaps”, whispered a voice behind the man in charge. I was aware that someone giggled in response.
“He is in the back office”, said 'Charge Nurse'

without giving me a second glance.
As I walked towards the back office, I heard people whisper and mutter behind my back and I was aware of a rather hostile atmosphere. I knocked on the office door and heard a firm 'Come in'

from the other side. I opened the door and noticed that the office had undergone a metamorphosis overnight, as gone were all the pieces of equipment and painting and decorating materials.
Milton must have read my mind – no surprise there, 'laser gaze'

sees everything I thought– as he said: “Yes, it is quite a difference from last night, isn't it? And I guess you must have noticed the phones too?”
“Yes”, I said with a sigh and took the seat that he pointed out to me.
“Are you alright?” he asked, scrutinizing me with his piercing eyes.
“Not really, knowing that it feels as if the whole hospital knows what has happened and seems to blame me for whatever it is they seem to want to blame me for. So much for trying to save someones life!”, I responded.
“Mm, yes, I have heard that Ms Coulton has suspended you. I told her that, given the circumstances, that was quite severe of her to do”.
I looked at Milton in surprise. Why on earth should he have to defend my case or was this part of playing Detective 101, I thought.
“Yes, I have been suspended and apparently, according to the guy in Charge at the Nursing Station, I am not even to show up here. Not sure if he means the department or the hospital itself though”, I said.
There was a pause before Milton said: “Things have changed. The lady you tried to safe last night unfortunately died in the early hours of the morning, very likely as a result of the condition she was left in for so long before you found her and therefore my team and I are now treating this as a possible murder investigation”.
“Oh my God!”
“Things are even worse!”, Milton looked me directly in the eyes as he spoke without blinking as if not to miss any hidden response or sign I might unwillingly send out.
“Worse?” I replied.
“Yes”, he sighed and then added: “Someone has leaked the story to the press. Papers and news channels are all over it and I don't like it. Neither does your Matron by the way!”.
I felt the color drain from my face and my stomach tightened. I looked at Milton and asked: “You think I have done this?”
“Have you?” he questioned, very calmly.
“No of course not!” I yelled as I got up and paced around feeling a little light headed – I had completely forgotten to eat something that morning. “Why would I want to do that! All I did was to try and safe someones life. Yes, my means were possibly a little bit unconventional but I was not deliberately trying to breach any rules, policies and, or override the hierarchy of the hospital! I have now lost my opportunity to work here and possibly to work anywhere, so why should I inform the press? For what reason? And what good would that be: I have a little boy to look after, his Dad and I are divorced, so why should I jeopardize my future and that of my son's?”
“You have a son?” Milton asked.
“Yes, I have. He is four years old and he is all I have here. I need my work to provide for both of us as the money my former husband pays me for maintenance is not enough to live from”, I paused before continuing: “Well, it does explain the warm reception I had earlier”, I remarked sarcastically.
“Right”, said Milton as he stared into space for a few moments before writing more in his notebook.
“I think that will be all for now Mrs Lang”.
“Elissa”, I said, reminding him again.
“OK, Elissa! I will contact you if I need you again and perhaps it may be better for you to meet me outside the hospital grounds given the circumstances. I also think it may be wise for you to consider a lawyer”.
“Why do I need a lawyer? Am I accused of something? Am I a suspect?” I responded.
“May I advise you that you do not always need a lawyer because you are a suspect Elissa. With the press knowing about what has happened, things could potentially become nasty. The hospital's reputation is, as your Matron made very clear last night, at stake. A story like this can have serious repercussions on that reputation, so your Matron is right about that. I would have liked to have worked on this case behind the scenes and assisted Matron by keeping things inside the hospital doors so to speak, unless I found anything that would have forced me to do otherwise, but unfortunately that is now no longer possible. Things are out in the open and this is big news! Institutions will fight for what they have established over the years and when this is threatened they may want to find a scapegoat. You have no permanent bonds with the hospital anymore, despite you having been a very loyal and hardworking member of staff with an impeccable record, so I have discovered. You are an Agency Nurse now, so you can be dismissed and replaced and, he stopped for a second, prosecuted!”
I looked at Milton in horror, not ever having considered this was possible. Who on earth had leaked the story to the press, I wondered. How was it possible that a decision to help and safe someone's life could end up in me having to seek legal advise as I could now possibly be prosecuted for tarnishing the hospital's reputation? I sat myself back on the chair again, feeling empty and defeated. How was this possible? All I had done was my job and my duty as a nurse to respect and protect a life!
I put my face in my hands and rocked forwards in my chair. Tears were welling up but I tried to swallow them back. I really did not want to cry in front of this man.
“Elissa, Elissa!” I heard a voice calling from a distance. I looked up at Milton's face close to mine. “Here, drink some water!” Milton pressed a glass to my lips as I slowly became more aware again of my surroundings and I gulped a few mouthfuls.
“Did I faint?” I questioned.
“Not really, but you are likely a little bit shocked”, Milton replied.
“Is there anything else, Sir?” another voice said.
“No thank you Steve, that will be all”, Milton replied.
“Oh, Elissa, you have not met Steve yet, have you?” I shook my head whilst looking at the young, rake thin man with a crew cut and the frame-less spectacles resting on his thin nose. He wore a suit that looked far too big for him and pretty crumpled as if he had slept in it, which he probably had this particular night. I had not heard him coming into the room.
“Elissa, this is Steve Grayson, my Sargent”.
Steve shook my hand and then excused himself informing his DCI that he would continue with his work.
“Meet me at the station later Steve, once you have finished here”, Milton said.
“Oh and by the way, did you managed to speak to the security guy for the release of the CCTV footage?”
“Double Yes, Sir!” Steve responded. Quick and to the point I thought, doesn't waste any words.
“Oh and Sir, it's mayhem out there now!”, Steve's head pointed towards the window. Milton got up, adjusted the window blinds and looked outside. Three stories below him the media was in full frenzy: reporters were everywhere he looked with huge cameras and microphones. TV channel vans with transmitting equipment on their roofs lined the road leading up towards the hospital. A cordon of police officers with visibility gear were trying to keep apart those who were visiting the hospital for legitimate reasons and those who were trying to get in under false pretenses in order to get a story. Despite having sealed off certain areas with restrictive tape, this was a difficult task given the fact that everything needed to be checked out before someone was given permission to get into the hospital. Milton knew that is was only a matter of time before someone would bluff him or herself into the building and break the protection zone.
“Did you arrive from the back of the hospital?” he asked me.
“Yes, I did”, I replied.
“Good, lets get out of here! Someone will have seen you and you are a big story for them to get their hands on!”
“What do you mean?”, I asked naively.
“It is full of reporters out there Elissa and we have to get away. The police is planning a press conference later today, but right now, we have to get you out! Follow me!” he commanded.

I followed him out of the office and passed the Nursing Station. It was still busy and again, voices died down when I walked by.
“If anyone needs to get hold of me they can call me at the station!”, Milton told the guy in Charge. This time I was able to read his badge and it named him as Paul Wesley, Sr Charge Nurse. Paul just nodded and watched us walk away.
I followed Milton through the corridor towards the lifts.
“Is there a fire escape route here?” he asked as we waited for one of three available lifts to arrive.
“Yes, there is, around the back of the east corridor”, I replied.
“Will it take us to the back entrance of the hospital?”
“Yes, it will and it goes all the way to the basement where the car park is.”
“Show me”, he said and this time he followed me. I led him towards the east corridor. Just before the entrance to the ward situated on this wing, a door with a fire exit sign showed us the way to the stairwell. It was a different stairwell from the one I used the night before, that one was the main stairwell, accessible to staff and visitors if they did not want to use the lifts – or were tired of waiting for them to arrive - which happened regularly.
The fire escape stairs were small compared to the main stairwell. They were also just made of plain concrete and not lined with linoleum like the main stairs were. Milton took the lead again and it felt as if he was running down the stairs. His long muscular legs were able to take two steps at the time. I only just managed to keep up with him. When we reached the basement he stopped and he gestured to me to be quiet and not say a word. He looked through the safety glass of the fire door leading to the car park and once making sure there was no press present, he guided me to a silver BMW.
“Get in quickly and keep yourself hidden until I say so”, he whispered.
“I can get home in my own car!” I suddenly said, demonstrating my need not to rely on others – yes, I like my independence- as it had never occurred to me that the plan was that Milton was going to take me home.
“Elissa, get in! I will get someone to take your car home. You have no idea what it will be like once the press will see you drive off! They will be onto you like a tonne of bricks and neither I or the officers outside of the Hospital will be able to help you if you use your own car!”
“Shit!” he muttered between his teeth. “Elissa, get in NOW! They've spotted us already!
As I turned around I saw a small group of people with camera's and microphones, come out of the hospital's back entrance giving access to the car park and I forgot what I had intended to do and got into Milton's car.
It is unfortunate that, although the car park has its entrance around the back of the hospital, the only way to get there is still via the road that also leads to the front and main entrance of the hospital. Something the press had of course caught onto as soon as they saw Milton's car speed past them. Perhaps they had also been tipped off by the reporters that had almost caught us at the back in the car park. From everywhere they suddenly turned towards the BMW and cameras flashed and voices yelled from every direction: “DCI Milton! DCI Milton, can you give us any comments about the case?”
“Can you confirm if there has been a murder?”
“Do you have any suspects yet? What is the name of the nurse who found the old lady? Is she involved in any way?”
Milton revved his engine and quickly scooted passed the reporters as several uniformed police officers helped to clear the way. I kept myself down and out of sight by squeezing in the space between the front and back seat. I even held my breath for a while, just out of sheer fright. I had of course seen scenes like these on TV or in movies, but to be actually a part of this myself was a pretty scary experience. Even when Milton indicated that it was safe for me to come out of hiding, I was very weary and constantly on edge, expecting reporters to suddenly turn up at every corner. It wasn't until we had covered quite a distance without any visible signs of us being followed that I started to relax.
“Do you know a good lawyer?” I asked Milton.
He briefly took his eyes from the road and the traffic ahead of him and glanced at me for a few seconds before focusing his attention back to his driving.
“Yes, Elissa”, I do.
“But first, let me drive you home!”

Milton drove me home and made sure that I entered my flat safely. Initially I did not completely understand his concerns, but he explained that it was likely only a matter of time before my name would be known to the press and I could expect a similar frenzy as we had encountered at the hospital, on my own doorstep. It was not a prospect I looked forward to. I offered Milton I would make us some coffee and he gladly accepted. I took off my coat on my way towards the living room and encountered Naomi and Kai. “Mummy!” Kai shouted out happily.
“Hello my sweetie!” I responded and picked him up from the floor and gave him the biggest cuddle I had.
“Did you miss me my darling?”
“No!” replied my son, but from the way the corners of his mouths tried to hide his smile and the way his eyes twinkled naughtily, I knew he was just joking with me.
“No?”, I asked him. “Is that really true?”, and I started to tickle him. He started giggling and after I questioned him again and again if he had not missed me, he eventually gave in with a big chuckle and gave me a big cuddle. “Of course I missed you Mummy!”
It was a little game we always played. Oh how I loved him! I put Kai down and said: “This is a Policeman Kai, I am helping him with something that happened at Mummy's work”.
“Hello Kai”, said Milton as he bent down and shook my little guy's hand.
“Why don't you have a uniform?”, asked Kai inquisitively.
“I am a special policeman”, replied Milton.
“Like a spy?” asked Kai.
I raised my eyebrows and looked surprised at my little boy.
“Yes, a little bit like a spy”, replied Milton with a smile, he was a little surprised by the slight oriental looking little boy. He wondered if Elissa's former husband was perhaps Japanese or maybe they had adopted.
That man should smile more often, I thought, being aware of how attractive it made the stern detective look. I also introduced him to Naomi, explaining she was my child minder.
“Sweetie, would you mind playing with Naomi for just a little while. I need to talk to the policeman for a moment. Alright?”
“OK, Mummy!”
“Thanks Naomi” I said to the young woman who took my son to his bedroom.
I made my way to my open plan kitchen and prepared the coffee machine with freshly ground coffee, took two mugs from the cupboard and waited for the coffee to run through. Milton was making a phone call on his mobile. I poured the coffee as he finished his call. “Do you take milk or sugar?”, I asked him.
“Just black will do, thank you!” he answered.
I handed him one of the mugs with the hot coffee, asked him to take a seat and he sat down on my sofa. I sat in my favorite chair and sighed deeply before taking a sip from the freshly brewed coffee. God, I needed that, I thought.
“I got you a name for a lawyer Elissa!” Milton broke the silence. “His name is George Waters. He is a good guy. I just spoke to him on my phone. I will give you his contact details”.
“Thank you DCI Milton”, I said.
“Call me Joe”, Milton replied.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.01.2011

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