Just a Family Doctor

Should she play it cool and stall him for a week?

No. Subterfuge wasn’t her thing, never had been, never would be. She let the smile escape. ‘Sounds great. What time?’

‘Seven again? I could pick you up, now I know where you live.’

‘Anna will be unbearably curious.’

‘Anna needs a lover,’ he said firmly.

‘Mmm. I think she fancied you for the job.’

His neck went an interesting shade of brick. ‘Tough,’ he murmured. ‘Right, must get on. Where’s Darren? In his room?’

‘Yes—just opposite the nursing station, in the single room. Can you manage?’

‘You keep asking me that. No faith,’ he said drily, and she watched him go, stifling a sigh of sheer enjoyment. It wasn’t just adolescent fantasy, he was good-looking. Very decorative. She eyed the soft, thick hair on his head. It was the colour of a gold nugget, not bright, just warm and interesting and tinged with fair bits where the sun had bleached it. It looked infinitely touchable—

And she was in danger of losing her job and her marbles if she didn’t pull herself together!

She cleared away the last of her bits and pieces, washed her hands again and went out into the ward. There was a baby crying, little Amy Fulcher, who was in under observation after severe abdominal pain with no obvious cause.

Her mother had gone outside for a short walk in the fresh air, and Allie scooped up the eighteen-month-old and cuddled her, walking her up and down and crooning to her until she settled again. Poor little scamp was exhausted, because she’d been crying off and on all night. It seemed likely that the surgeon in charge of her case would decide to operate today to investigate, but the baby seemed reasonably well apart from the pain.

Mark came over to her as she was settling the baby down against her shoulder, and brushed his hand lightly over her head. ‘Poor little scrap. They’re going to X-ray her again,’ he told her. ‘Apparently they think she might have bands or adhesions around the intestines.’

‘Mmm. She’s a bit old for bands to suddenly be a problem at eighteen months, and she hasn’t had any previous surgery to give her adhesions, but it could be, I suppose. The symptoms fit. It’s obviously not that bad because she’s not shocky or vomiting—’

Flying in the face of God, she thought a second later, as Amy retched and covered her uniform in green bile.

‘OK, I take that back. Thank you, darling. How lovely. Shh, sweetheart, it’s all right now,’ Allie said under her breath, soothing the baby automatically. She went quiet, and Allie laid her down in the cot and looked at her shoulder and chest in despair. She’d deal with it later. Just now she had to wipe the baby’s mouth and make sure she was all right.

Certainly the crying had stopped. Mark looked over her shoulder.

‘Well, it seems to have done the trick—she’s more comfortable now,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘Jolly good. I’m so glad one of us is.’

He chuckled, and patted her other shoulder. ‘You smell gorgeous.’

Thank you so much,’ she said with a huge false smile. ‘I can’t tell you what it’s like from this side.’

‘Did someone chuck on you, Nurse?’ one of the boys asked, cruising past on crutches and regarding her uniform with undisguised mirth.

‘Just a bit. How’s your leg?’

‘Excellent. I can go home today, maybe, if the X-ray’s all right.’

‘Good. That’s great.’ It was. Healthy young boys with damaged limbs were a nightmare to entertain and keep quiet, but fortunately for the most part they healed at a huge rate of knots and thus weren’t such a drastic problem.

‘You just want to get rid of me,’ he said mournfully, and Allie laughed.

‘You guessed, Tim.’

Tim flashed her a grin and set off again. He was getting too darned good on those crutches—

‘Can I make a suggestion?’

Allie glanced up at Mark, glowering at his twinkling eyes and twitching mouth.

‘Change my clothes, perhaps?’

‘You guessed.’ He smiled. ‘Great minds, eh?’

She sniffed, curled up her nose expressively and headed for the sluice.

‘I’ll just strip this tabard off and find a clean shirt, then I’ll be back to write that lot up. I don’t suppose you’d like to report it to the surgical team? Oh, and find someone to sort Amy out?’

‘Sure.’ Mark grinned, waggled his fingers and went into the office to use the phone, and Allie dealt with the little crisis to her person, washed her hands for the thousandth time that day and pulled on a clean shirt from the stores.

‘Hi-ho,’ she mumbled, tugging the clean tabard straight and heading back to the ward.

Mark sniffed and smiled. ‘Better.’

‘All part of the job,’ she said with a grin. ‘I’ll go and check on Amy. I just dropped her, poor little kid. Did you find anyone to sort her out?’

‘Anna’s gone to do it.’

‘Thanks.’ She flashed him a grateful smile and went to see how Amy was now. Anna was still with her, changing her and settling her on a clean draw-sheet.

‘OK?’

Allie smiled. ‘Yes, thanks. I always get in the way.’

‘Don’t we all? Her mother’s on the way back—I rang the coffee shop and asked them to tell her. She’d just nipped in for breakfast. The surgical reg is on his way down—I think they may operate this morning now.’

Allie nodded. ‘I wondered. Still, she’s on nil by mouth already, so there’s no delay.’

Mrs Fulcher arrived back then, and Allie left Anna talking to her and went to see what else she could find. As sure as eggs, there’d be plenty.

It was after four before she got away, not the three o’clock her shift should have ended, but they’d had a flood of post-ops back from General Surgery and Orthopaedics, and she’d had to say goodbye to Tim, and what with one thing and another the time had just slipped by.

She went home and threw her washing together and walked to the laundrette round the corner, read an out-of-date magazine while the clothes sloshed round in the machine and then read another one while the tumble dryer finished the job. She didn’t get home until half past six, and then had to plead with Lucy for the bathroom.

Consequently she was late—which was a nuisance because it meant Lucy got to answer the door and let Mark in, and Allie was like a cat on hot bricks while she finished getting ready, wondering what she was saying.

She needn’t have worried. Lucy, predictably, was talking about herself, and Mark was looking polite. Funny how she could read him already—or did she mean still?

She flashed him a smile. ‘Hi. Sorry I’m late—I had to go to the laundrette and do the dreaded washing.’