Caroline Anderson - Playing the Joker

In the end she excused her behaviour on the grounds of a headache and somehow finished off without any major hiccups.

She was later than she had intended, though, and by the time she reached the ward Alex had been taken to lunch by Owen Davie.

She found them in the staff canteen and he looked up and waved to her immediately, as if he had been looking out for her. She waved back, collected a salad and fruit juice and made her way over to the table, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.

He stood as she approached and held her chair for her in an entirely natural display of good manners that sat easily with his quiet reticence.

Nevertheless it irritated her, and she flashed him a challenging look that he met with steady confidence.

‘Such gallantry!’ she quipped lightly, with just the merest touch of acid.

‘Such feminist rebellion!’ he murmured as he returned to his seat. ‘Successful morning?’

‘Not bad. Did you see Mary Jenkins, Owen?’

The consultant nodded. ‘I did. She’s settled into the ward and we’ll watch her over the weekend. If her blood-pressure doesn’t come down by Monday then I think we’ll have to induce her. She’s almost at term.’ He turned to Alex. ‘Of course she’ll be your patient then, and it’ll be up to you how you deal with it, but I’ll leave her notes fully written up for you. I expect to be in and out over the weekend.’

‘Can you fill me in?’ Alex asked.

Owen shrugged and waved to Jo. ‘Your patient.’

She nodded. ‘OK. She’s twenty-nine, and it’s her first visit to us. She’s thirty-seven weeks pregnant. Her community midwife saw her in the street, took one look at her face and told her she needed to see the doctor for antenatal treatment. He referred her to us as a matter of urgency yesterday afternoon.

‘She’s very severely oedematous, and her blood-pressure this morning was 210 over 130. She’s also showing signs of severe proteinuria, and generally she’s thoroughly pre-eclamptic. However, the ultrasound scan showed the baby to be a good size and moving well, so I didn’t think there was any urgency to induce her until her blood-pressure had a chance to come down. I imagine she’s been put on a diuretic and a hypotensive——’ Owen nodded ‘—and we’ll watch her closely for any deterioration.’

‘First baby?’ Alex asked.

‘Yes. She’s unmarried and not the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. I imagine she thought the bloating was all part of pregnancy.’

She prodded her fork into her salad and moved it round the plate. Alex’s hand lay distractingly on the table just on the periphery of her vision, and she could see the fine dark hairs over the prominent bones of his wrist. His fingers were long and supple, the skin soft and smooth in deference to his patients, but the hands themselves were strong, sensitive and very, very clever.

She felt her skin heat and turned her head slightly so that her hair fell forward and screened her face.

‘So what’s the list this afternoon?’ he asked her.

‘Gynae,’ she replied shortly. ‘Three D and Cs, a hysterectomy and a prolapse repair.’

‘On a Friday afternoon?’ He sounded surprised.

‘The D and C patients can go home tomorrow morning and have someone to look after them over the weekend. Otherwise they tend just to get up and carry on, and then they feel lousy. The hysterectomy is an emergency following a very heavy bleed due to fibroids—we’ve finally got her blood count up enough to tackle it—and the prolapse lady cancelled three months ago and finally had to come back to us because she’d deteriorated so badly she’s desperate.’

‘Why not leave her till Monday?’

‘Because she’ll have all weekend to fret and she’ll probably run away again. Anyway, we can’t do all our operations on a Monday; we have to share Theatre time with the other gynae teams.’

‘Do you have a theatre problem?’

‘Doesn’t everybody these days?’ Owen asked drily. ‘And anyway, one of the reasons for getting these cases out of the way is to give you the easiest possible lead-in until you’re used to the set-up, so don’t tell her off for being helpful, there’s a good chap.’

Alex shot her an apologetic glance. ‘Was I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Are you going to eat that or just shove it round the plate?’

Jo looked down at her mangled salad and sighed. She really didn’t fancy it, but she needed something before she went up to Theatre——

‘Can I get you a piece of cake or something? You ought to eat.’

She tried to smile. If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t have had any trouble eating!

‘Thanks—fruit cake would be nice.’

‘Coffee?’

‘Tea—please. Thanks, Alex.’

She watched him walk away, and then turned back to find Owen regarding her seriously.

‘Did you know him—er—very well?’

She grinned ruefully. ‘Better than I should have done, and really not at all.’

‘I don’t understand——’

‘Neither did I.’

He shook his head slowly, then raised it again and looked searchingly at her, realisation dawning. ‘Was it him?’

‘Yes.’ She gave a sad little smile. ‘Don’t worry, Owen, I’ll be OK. Just—don’t say anything, please?’

‘Joanna!’

‘Don’t be offended. I just can’t afford to take the risk that he’ll find out.’

The older man covered her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘He’ll find out nothing from me, my dear. About the job——’

Her smile slipped.

‘I want you to know I recommended you for it. I know we haven’t always agreed, but I think you’ll make a damn fine consultant one day. I’m just sorry that it couldn’t be now.’

Thank you, Owen. I’m glad you told me—you’ve taught me such a lot in the last four years.’

He grinned reluctantly. ‘I’ve learnt a lot from you, as well. You’ve been very interesting to work with——’

That’s not what you said about the aromatherapy!’

They laughed, a new warmth between them, and Jo felt a sharp twist of sorrow that her old mentor was moving on to pastures new.

‘I’ll miss you, you know. It’ll be strange without you.’

‘Carter’ll soon make his mark. I expect you’ll see some changes in the next few weeks.’

Jo was sure they would—and most of them in her blood-pressure!

‘Her cervix is very elongated so I’m going to do a Manchester repair,’ Jo explained to the theatre staff later that afternoon.

The patient was lying on the table with her feet suspended in stirrups, and as she settled herself on the stool ready to begin Jo was very conscious of Alex’s presence just behind her shoulder. In theatre boots she lost the advantage of her high heels, and he seemed to tower over her. In fact, of course, he was only about four inches taller than her at most, but, as she herself was five feet ten, she wasn’t used to many people being taller.

She had taken a hated disadvantage and turned it into a frank asset as she had matured and forged her career, but, as she swivelled round on the stool and tipped back her head to meet Alex’s eyes far above her, she was suddenly all the more aware of how big he was. He made her feel small and dainty and—dear God, now was not the time to think of how he made her feel!

It was a tricky repair and required all her concentration, and gradually she forgot about Alex’s presence behind her and focused on her patient.

At one point the heat of the theatre was almost overwhelming, and she could feel the moisture pooling in droplets on her brow and in the cleft between her breasts.

Before she could speak Alex’s hand appeared and swabbed her brow.

‘Better?’ he murmured, and she nodded.