The nurse checked Gloria’s wristband, then the notes at the end of the trolley. “I understand. We’re doing our best. She’s been triaged. We’re waiting for X-ray to call for her.”
“And in the meantime?” Sloan asked. “She just lies here?”
“In the meantime,” the nurse said, voice gentler, “we keep her as comfortable as we can. Has she had pain relief?”
Gloria’s mouth tightened. “They offered me paracetamol like I’m a child with a headache.”
Sloan’s nostrils flared.
Matty moved without thinking. She stepped in, close to Sloan’s side, and placed her hand lightly on her forearm—steady, warm—a quiet anchor.
“Sloan,” she murmured, low enough that only Sloan could hear, “let’s not bite the head off the one person who’s actually helping.”
Sloan’s eyes flicked to Matty’s hand, then back to the nurse. Something in her expression tightened.
“I’m advocating,” she said.
“I know,” Matty said softly. “Just...breathe.”
Gloria watched them both with narrowed eyes, putting it all together. “If you’re finished,” she snapped, “I’d quite like my hip to stop feeling like it’s on fire.”
The nurse nodded briskly, grateful for the opportunity to do something practical. “Right. We can do something stronger than paracetamol if she needs it. I’ll get the doctor to review her analgesia. And I’ll see if we can get you a blanket, alright?”
Gloria sniffed. “Make it two. It’s freezing in here.”
The nurse gave a quick smile, tired, but real, and disappeared into the stream of bodies.
Sloan’s exhale was slow and controlled, forcing the air through clenched teeth. She turned back to the trolley, eyes dropping to Gloria’s face.
“Are you actually in pain?” she asked.
Gloria’s gaze slid away. “Of course I’m in pain. I fell off a bloody chairlift.”
Matty leaned in a little. “Did you hit your head at all? Any dizziness?”
Gloria rolled her eyes. “No. I’m notconcussed. I’m just...sore.”
Sloan’s mouth tightened.
A porter appeared a few minutes later, sweat on his brow, eyes scanning for numbers. He stopped beside Gloria’s trolley.
“Gloria Slater?” he asked.
Gloria lifted her chin. “That’s me.”
“X-ray’s ready for you,” he said, already pulling the trolley round with practised efficiency.
Sloan stepped forward instinctively. “I’m coming with her.”
“You’ll have to wait here,” the porter said, not unkindly. “Space is tight.”
Gloria’s eyes flicked to Matty, then to Sloan, and something like satisfaction crept into her expression.
Sloan opened her mouth to argue, but the porter was already moving, and for once, Gloria was quiet. Pain had a way of stealing stamina, even from the most stubborn of women.
“Let’s go and sit down,” Matty said, steering them back towards the waiting room. There were two empty chairs, and she sat quickly before anyone else could claim one.
Sloan sat beside her, back straight, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
