a disapproving quirk of an eyebrow. Although, to be fair, in this weather she admired their resilience, if not their respect of urban social niceties.
She would have turned back to the path but the dog trotted into a small clearing ahead and barked at the prostrate and motionless figure of a small, bald man.
'My God!' Gillian gasped and ran over. She knelt and tried to find a pulse in his neck. She couldn't be sure but she thought she could feel the faintest of murmurs. She pulled out her phone and dialled emergency services. Slipping out of her Barbour jacket, she laid it under the man's head. Thank goodness that he was wearing such a thick coat, she thought, because even though it made him look like an ancient, hairless Paddington Bear, it had probably saved his life.
Kate Walker knew she shouldn't do it, but, as she sat at her friend's computer terminal, she couldn't help herself. She typed in the access code Jane Harrington had, under duress, given her, and typed in DELANEY to pull up his hospital records. She knew enough not to trust anything the staff at the hospital had told her. She wasn't a relative; she didn't know exactly what she was. Girlfriend didn't sound right. Partner was a bit formal for what they had had. Mother of his child, she decided, that was what she was, and that gave her rights.
The first hit came up with Siobhan Delaney.
Not the rights to look at confidential medical records, maybe, but the man she loved was recovering from an operation and she wanted to know how bad the damage was, she justified to herself.
But not the right to read his ex-wife's records. Kate found herself unable to click the screen away and carried on reading it instead. That night had defined Delaney, after all, for the last four years. It had certainly defined their relationship, if such it was. And so, moral qualms pushed aside, Kate read the report.
Everything was much as she knew it to be. His pregnant wife, suffering heavy blood loss, was rushed into theatre. They had performed an emergency C section. The baby, and subsequently the mother, had died. The procedures seemed in order, everything but the outcome was in order.
Apart from one thing.
She read the document again and wished she never had.
Kate closed down the computer screen. She'd read the reports on Jack's injury. He had been incredibly lucky. The bullet had passed through the lower part of his left shoulder, it had broken no bones and was well clear of any organs. Had the police not arrived when they did, she reflected, it was quite likely that whoever had shot him would have crossed the road and finished the job. And her with him, likely as not. She shivered at the thought.
The door creaked open and Jane Harrington came back into her office, carrying a couple of mugs of coffee.
'Keep meaning to get some WD40 on that,' she said.
'I'm sorry?' Kate looked back at her, not at all sure what she had said.
'The door. Needs some oil.'
Kate took the coffee and took a sip. It was welcome. She had been up all night. Waiting for Delaney to go into surgery. Waiting by his bedside after the operation. At seven o'clock she had called her friend. She needed to do something, even it was just to see his records for herself. Things were spiralling out of control, that much was clear. And Kate needed to do something. She needed to try and take control. And the one thing she did know about was medicine.
Her friend observed the way she held both hands round the coffee mug, as if to warm more than her fingers. 'How is he, Kate?'
'He's going to be okay. For now. The bullet did as little damage as possible under the circumstances. He must have an guardian angel looking over him.'
