Anne Fraser - Top-Notch Men!

‘No, I’m just interested in what motivated you to choose that particular study over any number of other topics you could have chosen instead. There are a lot of people who would feel it’s unlikely to produce anything of scientific significance.’

‘It’s pretty clear which camp you’d be in.’

‘Come on, Allegra,’ he reasoned. ‘Everything in our profession is data-driven now—if you can’t measure it, it probably doesn’t exist. Anecdotes and expert opinion are no longer good enough.’

She sent him a hardened glare. ‘Can we talk about something else?’

‘OK, but there are two deeply comatose patients in ICTU right now but I don’t want you to do anything that would draw unnecessary attention to the unit at this time.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked with rising anger. ‘What do you think I’m going to do? Cast a spell or something?’

‘I just want you to tread very carefully. I’m just concerned that if Mr Lowe’s son dies, you could be an easy target to blame.’

‘Me? What about his wife? She’s the one who drove the car!’

‘I know, but you know how people are when they’re under a lot of stress. The whole spectrum of emotion gets played out in ICU. The very best and worst of human behaviour comes out. In my opinion, Keith Lowe is a litigation time bomb waiting to go off.’

Allegra couldn’t help agreeing with him, although it pained her to admit it. ‘He does seem the type, I guess,’ she said, lowering her gaze a fraction.

‘I’m not trying to sabotage your project, Allegra, nothing like that. If anything, I would actually be delighted if you were able to deliver some measurable and repeatable results. But is this the right time to do it, the right case to start with?’

She raised her eyes back to his. ‘Are you expressly forbidding me to do anything or just asking me to be discreet?’

He held her gaze for a lengthy period. ‘I said I’d give you a month and I’ll stick by that. But if you’re going to use this case, I want you to keep a low profile. Things are much more tense than usual because of the question mark hanging over Kate Lowe. One press leak and public emotion will be running high. The notion of a mother trying to kill her own child in her own suicide attempt is bizarre—the press would play it from every angle for all it’s worth, every day either of them survives. And if, on top of that, they got wind that they were being used in a research project, especially using not-strictly-medical methods, they’d have a field day—none of us might survive it.’

‘I understand,’ she said. ‘But I’d still like to try with the little boy. I’ll ask the father for his permission, of course.’

He held her direct look for a moment. ‘Fine, but all I’m saying is that emotion runs high when children are involved. Just keep that in mind.’

Allegra thought back to her earlier conversation with Susie but decided against mentioning it. The nursing staff were well used to dealing with all sorts of people and could be relied on to remain professional at all times.

After a short pause she released a heartfelt sigh. ‘I often wonder how they get on—you know, once they leave ICU. We patch them up and send them on their way, but we get very little long-term feedback. Don’t you wonder how they manage to adjust, especially the ones with permanent disability?’

Joel examined the contents of his wineglass, a shadow of something coming and going in his dark eyes. ‘I try not to think about it too much.’

She looked at him, her expression softening. ‘But you do, don’t you?’

He gave her a twisted, humourless smile. ‘Well, it’s part of the job, isn’t it? You go home exhausted after long shifts, then you can’t sleep, worrying you could have done more.’

‘I know … It’s a wonder we don’t all end up on stress leave.’

‘It’s why doctors’ marriages have a higher than average failure rate,’ he said, reaching for his wine and taking a sip.

The waiter arrived with their meals and once he’d left, Allegra said into the little silence that had fallen, ‘You never told me what your parents do for a living.’

Joel put his glass back on the table before answering. ‘My father is a teacher and my mother hasn’t worked outside the home since my brother and I were born.’

‘That must have been nice for you and your brother,’ she said, ‘having a full-time mum at home.’

‘It certainly had its advantages.’ He reached for his cutlery and asked, ‘What about your early childhood? Did your mother choose to work or stay at home?’

‘My mother wasn’t the stay-at-home type. My father did a lot of the child care in the early days, but I seem to remember a few child-care centres along the way.’

‘But you had a happy childhood?’

‘Of course. My parents were a bit “out there” at times, but I can’t remember ever being unhappy. Even when they went their separate ways, they did it so wonderfully well that I was the envy of all my friends for having such trendy, cool parents.’

Joel looked at her in silent envy. His childhood had been marked with tragedy, a tragedy relentless and ongoing. The last time he’d visited, just two days ago, his mother had aged and visibly shrunk even further, and his father’s face had become a mask of pain from their situation, each line more deeply etched, each shadow a darker curtain.

Allegra became aware of his silence and wondered if she was boring him. ‘I’m sorry …’ She pushed her glass out of her reach. ‘I tend to talk too much about myself when I drink wine.’

He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Truth serum?’

‘Next I’ll be telling you all my innermost secrets.’

‘You seem to be pretty much an open book to me. You wear your heart on your sleeve, which is unusual in a medico. It usually gets hammered out of you at medical school.’

She lowered her gaze to the small flickering candle on the table, a small frown bringing her finely arched brows together for a moment. ‘Well I must have been absent that day at medical school.’

‘What happened?’

Allegra brought her eyes back to his, surprised yet again at the warmth she could see reflected there. ‘I lost my best friend during second year.’

‘An accident?’

She shook her head. ‘Suicide.’

‘I’m sorry. That must have been a tough time.’

‘It was … I blamed myself for not seeing the signs.’

‘Most people who know a suicide victim suffer the same guilt. Look at Mr Lowe today. I’m sure that’s why he’s unable to cope. He probably thinks it’s his fault.’

‘Yes … but in Julie’s case I should have known. I was her best friend. We’d shared everything since the first day we met during orientation week at university.’

‘You can’t always read people’s minds,’ he pointed out.

‘My mother would totally disagree with you,’ she said, trying to lighten the conversation. She gave him a little smile and added, ‘She insists she can infallibly detect what people are thinking just by looking deeply into their eyes.’

‘Oh, really?’ He didn’t bother disguising his scepticism but this time it was tempered with a smile. ‘And have you perhaps inherited this little gift?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t really put it to the test.’ She leaned forward to look into his eyes. ‘Let me see now … Hmm—you definitely have sleep on your mind. I can see you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks if not months.’

‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘There might be something in this after all.’

She leaned closer to peer even more, her hair falling forward to brush the back of his hand where it rested on the table near his glass in a soft-as-air caress that sent a charge of electricity straight to his groin as her greener-than-green gaze meshed with his.