Carol Marinelli - The Pregnant Intern

‘I know, I know. Look, I’m probably not being fair, landing this lot on you. I know you haven’t asked for special favours or anything. It’s just that I’m going to be pretty full-on in the ensuing months, far more so than any of the other surgeons, and that means I’m going to be asking a lot from you. I just need to know that you’re up to it and if you’re not I need you to tell me.’

‘I’m up to it.’ Alice said with conviction, but it wasn’t the answer Jeremy wanted to hear.

‘You still don’t understand, do you?’

Alice looked at him, nonplussed. What more did he want—an affidavit?

‘If I’m piling it on too thick I need to know you’ll tell me. I’m single-minded where work’s concerned. What I’m trying to say is that my career is everything to me. Now, I might expect loyalty and hard work from my staff and sometimes I admit I stretch the limits, but in your case you have a baby to think of. I’m not a soft touch—anything but—and I need to know that you’ll tell me if there’s a problem. It might not be politically correct, or whatever you want to call it, but I can’t pretend your condition doesn’t exist. If I’m coming down too hard, you must say so.’

Alice was surprised by his words, stunned even. From what she had heard of Jeremy Foster, compassion and understanding weren’t on his list of credentials, and even if his attempt at these had been somewhat bumbling and massively sexist, she was touched at his attempt. ‘I will,’ she said softly.

‘So long as we’ve cleared that up, then.’ Jeremy gave her a dismissive nod and Alice said goodnight. Retrieving her bag from the nurses’ station, it suddenly became imperative that she thank him. Making her way back to his room, she stepped inside. Jeremy was sitting there, his head in his hands. Two soluble painkillers were fizzing away in the glass next to him. From the hunch of his wide shoulders she could tell he was tense, possibly in pain. Sensing someone’s presence, he sat up smartly and turned around.

‘Was there anything else?’

Alice hesitated. Suddenly she felt as if she had witnessed a side that Jeremy didn’t want to be seen, as if she had somehow invaded his privacy.

‘I just wanted to thank you.’

‘There’s really no need. You’ll be calling me all sorts of names by the end of the week.’

Alice gave a small smile. She knew she should go now, but for some reason she found herself standing there. He might be her consultant, but at this moment Jeremy Foster looked nothing like the dashing, confident man she had met this morning. He looked exhausted—the day must have taken its toll—and in pain, too. ‘Er, is there anything I can get you?’

Jeremy gave her a quizzical look. ‘Like what?’

Alice shrugged. ‘A cup of tea perhaps?’

Jeremy gave a low laugh before answering sarcastically, ‘A woman’s solution to everything.’ When Alice flushed he added more kindly, ‘At least, it’s my mother’s solution.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve got a headache, that’s all. I’ll be fine.’ And, turning his back, he started dictating his notes into a machine for his secretary.

Well, what had she expected? For Jeremy Foster to confide in her, to tell her how bad he was feeling? She let out a low moan. Imagine offering him a cup of tea! Of all the stupid things to say—in one sentence she had relegated herself to the little-woman role where Jeremy so obviously thought she belonged.

If only she had known that at that same moment Jeremy’s head was back in his hands and he was thinking that maybe he should have accepted that cup of tea. Maybe a few minutes spent talking to Alice would have made things a bit easier for him if he’d told her how it was for him, that the accident hadn’t left him completely unscathed. That his back was killing him and he suffered headaches that were indescribable. After all, he was going to be relying a lot on her over the next few months and he was hardly about to bare his soul to Linda. And as for Josh—well, Josh was a good bloke but he gossiped far too much. Maybe talking to Alice would have helped lighten his load. But what good could have come from it? She seemed like a nice girl, but he hardly knew her. No doubt in five minutes’ flat the word would be around the hospital. Has-been, past it, came back too soon. Jeremy pulled a face as he downed the rest of the revolting medicine. He’d just have to wear it for now.

‘COULD I have a bit more light? It’s like operating in a bloody dungeon here.’ Alice moved the overhead light a fraction. She was too focussed on the direness of the situation to take Jeremy’s comments personally.

‘Dear God, why didn’t they bring him in sooner?’

Alice didn’t answer. She knew Jeremy was talking more to himself than to anyone else.

‘More traction,’ he ordered, and Alice pulled back on the retractor holding the incision Jeremy had swiftly cut further back to allow for greater visibility. She could see the sweat pouring down his forehead. No matter how many times the nurse wiped it, only seconds later he was drenched again.

He’s in pain again, Alice thought, suddenly feeling sorry for him.

She had been working with Jeremy for two weeks now, and whatever Jeremy lacked in social skills he made up for in the operating room. He was quite simply the best surgeon she had ever seen. His long fingers worked deftly, his vivid blue eyes seemed to pick up the minutest detail almost before it became apparent to anyone else. But were his skills enough to save this young life?

Lachlan Scott had been wheeled into the accident and emergency department less than two hours previously. The young medical student had been complaining of abdominal pain for a couple of days now, but hadn’t thought to do anything about it. Only this morning had he turned up at his father’s house, vomiting and in great pain. His father, one of the leading physicians at the hospital, had immediately rushed him in. The diagnosis of appendicitis had been made even before he had hit the accident and emergency department; but it soon became clear from his rigid abdomen and shocked appearance that his appendix had already ruptured and the patient was now suffering from peritonitis. Linda and Josh had been in the middle of a hernia repair, which had left Jeremy with only the most junior of assistants.

Alice’s back was killing her. Lachlan Scott had come in on the end of an already busy morning in the operating theatre, but for now her back was the least of her concerns.

‘I think we’re winning.’ Jeremy looked up briefly and Alice could read the look of sheer relief in his vivid eyes. By the time Jeremy had stitched the last of the drains into place, which would drain any excess fluid from Lachlan’s abdomen, and had covered the wound with a huge clear dressing, they had been operating for over two hours. ‘Good work, everyone. Let’s get him out to Recovery.’

Alice would have liked nothing more than to peel off her theatre scrubs, stand under a cool shower and follow it up with a huge mug of tea, but that luxury was going to have to wait. Lachlan had been resuscitated with fluids in the emergency department and huge doses of antibiotics had already been administered, but his post-operative IV and drug regime would have to be worked out carefully if they were to allay any of the multitude of post-operative complications he might succumb to.

‘His father’s just outside,’ Carrie, the theatre charge nurse, prompted. Alice watched as the faintest hint of a frown appeared on Jeremy’s face. ‘Jeremy, he’s a consultant. It will have to be you that talks to him,’ Carrie said firmly.

‘I know, I know,’ he said irritably. ‘I’ll talk to him, but first I’m having a shower. I’ll be back to check on Lachlan shortly.’