Margaret Barker - Summer With A French Surgeon

She walked towards the medical quarters. She needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to gather her thoughts and focus on the operation in front of her. She no longer felt the need to check her notes. Every bit of knowledge she needed was stored in her brain. She’d assisted at a hip replacement before on several occasions, actually performing part of the surgery with an experienced surgeon hovering nearby, watching her every move, ready to stop or correct anything he didn’t approve of.

It wouldn’t be any different this time, except that it would be Bernard who would be doing the hovering. And this affinity she felt with him, this desperation to please him was something that unnerved her. It wasn’t just that he was her chief in this situation. It was something more than that. Something definitely emotional. An emotional connection. And she was trying to avoid emotion.

Where relationships were concerned she didn’t trust herself, judging by her track record. At least she should leave all emotion outside the door of the theatre and concentrate all her training and expertise on doing the best for her patient.

Bernard was waiting for her when she nervously pushed open the swing doors of the ante-theatre. He gave her a smile of encouragement.

‘OK?’

She smiled back with a confidence she didn’t feel—yet! It would come back to her as soon as she started working. Concentrate on the patient, she told herself. Don’t think about yourself. Remember the last time you assisted at a hip replacement. The outcome was excellent. The patient survived to live a useful life—and so did you!

She scrubbed up. A nurse helped her into her sterile gown.

‘We’re ready to begin, Bernard,’ the anaesthetist said over the intercom.

They were ready. Julia was aware of the bright lights as she followed Bernard into the theatre. Indistinguishable faces appeared as blurs through the transparent screen. She made her way towards the motionless figure on the theatre table aware, not for the first time, that going into Theatre felt very much like going on stage.

She was so involved during the operation that she had no time to worry about herself. Her concentration was taken up completely by the task in hand. She found herself working harmoniously with Bernard. Sometimes he would nod to her across the shrouded figure on the table, indicating that she should perform the next stage while he supervised. All the procedures came back to her immediately as her fingers deftly performed what was required.

Time flew by and it seemed only minutes before she was finishing the final sutures. At that point she suddenly became aware of Bernard’s eyes on her as they had been during the entire operation. She placed her final used instrument on the unsterile tray, which a theatre nurse was preparing to remove. As she did so she glanced up at Bernard’s eagle eyes above his mask. She thought he was smiling but she couldn’t be sure as he turned to speak to the theatre sister and began giving her instructions on the immediate after-care of their patient.

There was nothing more for her to do in Theatre. It was all over and she’d survived, and more importantly so had Brigitte. The patient was now being wheeled into the recovery room. As she made her way out through the swing doors, Bernard came up to speak to her.

‘I think a debriefing session would be a good idea this evening, Julia.’

As he held open the swing door and followed her out, she allowed herself to admit that the sparks of attraction she’d felt as his gloved hand had brushed hers during the operation had been difficult to ignore. And when she’d looked up once to the eyes above the mask she’d had to take a deep breath to remain focussed and professional.

She looked up at him as they walked together along the corridor. ‘Yes, that would be very helpful.’

‘Come along to my office about six.’

He was pushing open the door of his office as he spoke as if anxious to be alone again. The door closed behind him and he walked across to his chair. He had to admit to himself that Julia really was a natural. Everything that Don had said about her was true. What Don had failed to mention about his prize student was how attractive she was.

What was it about Julia that made him feel so physically moved when they were together? Even in Theatre, the place where usually he was at his most professional, he’d felt sparks of attraction. That time when he’d passed her an instrument and their gloved hands had briefly touched … He shouldn’t be thinking like this!

He had a difficult ex-wife to deal with, a wonderful six-year-old son who should be his priority. He shouldn’t even be allowing these insane thoughts to enter his mind. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. That made it worse because he was sure he could still smell that subtle perfume that lingered around her.

Was he going mad? He switched on his computer and forced himself to begin writing up his notes on the operation.

Walking down the corridor, Julia had no idea what impression she’d given Bernard during the operation. He’d given her no indication of his assessment of her performance as he’d closed the door, seemingly anxious to get away from her.

Her confidence, which had been high in Theatre, was now wavering but she reminded herself of the way he’d reassured her all the way through the operation. Now that she had time to reflect, she thought he’d even smiled into his mask on occasion and nodded approval as she’d used her initiative. And she was almost sure she’d heard him whisper, ‘Well done!’ as she’d finished the final suture—or had she imagined that?

But did it matter what Bernard thought of her performance? If she was satisfied that she’d given it one hundred per cent and made life easier for her patient then that was what really mattered, wasn’t it? Seeking approbation from Bernard was not why she’d come here.

She walked away purposefully. She would make notes, be ready to ask questions and take the criticisms that would help make her a better surgeon in the future.

At six o’clock she was standing outside Bernard’s office, waiting for the second hand to reach the top of her watch.

‘Come in!’

He was sitting at his desk. He stood up and came towards her as she closed the door, motioning her to sit in one of the armchairs placed near the window. He took the other one and opened a file of notes. She put her briefcase on the floor at the side of her chair after taking out her own small laptop.

‘So how do you think the operation went, Julia?’

She cleared her throat and launched into the questions she’d prepared, going through all the steps of the operation from the first incision to the final suture.

He answered all her questions carefully and lucidly while she made notes on her laptop.

She leaned back against the back of the armchair as he answered her final question, and looked across at him. The expression on his face gave nothing away for a few seconds until he relaxed and gave her a studied smile.

‘Excellent! I like a student who has everything under control both during and after the operation. I’ve no doubt you’ll make a first-class surgeon.’

She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d sensed his approval but until that moment she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t been imagining it.

She smiled back. ‘Thank you, Bernard. So, do you have any questions for me?’

‘Just one.’ He hesitated. He really shouldn’t say what was uppermost in his mind. But he planned to be very careful if he felt himself giving in to the wrong emotions.

‘It’s been a long and intense day. Your trip shouldn’t all be about work, however. You are a visitor to France after all, so may I buy you a drink at the Maurice Chevalier?’