Love Without Measure

He sighed and picked up the wine his mother had poured him, raising it to his lips. It was cold and crisp, rinsing away the strain of the day.

‘So—tell me about your new job,’ his mother began, tucking her feet under her bottom like a girl and leaning eagerly towards him. ‘What are the rest of the staff like? Are you going to be happy working there?’

He thought of Jack Lawrence, his boss—apparently casual and yet with a mind like a steel trap, decisive and efficient. Kathleen, his wife, a softly-spoken little Irishwoman with a spark in her eye and a core of iron.

And Anna.

Something unfamiliar and forgotten happened in his chest, a sort of tightening, a feeling of anticipation.

She was no oil-painting, their little staff nurse. Not that little, really, unless she was beside him, then she seemed unbelievably fragile, with her wide grey eyes and clear, almost transparent skin. Her hair was long, he guessed. It was hard to tell with it twisted up under her cap, but certainly shoulder-length at least, and a wonderful dark brown, like polished mahogany. She wasn’t really pretty, but there was a life in her, an inner beauty that transcended her slightly uneven features and made her if anything even more attractive.

She was too thin, of course. Kathleen had implied that no one took care of her. Certainly she didn’t take care of herself. The way she had fallen on those sandwiches ——

‘Well?’

He blinked. ‘Um…’

‘I asked about your colleagues, and you went into a trance.’

He grinned easily at his mother. ‘Sorry, I was thinking about the day. Yes, they’re fine. A good bunch of people. I think I’m going to enjoy working there.’

His mother sipped her wine and regarded him steadily. ‘Are you going to tell me about the woman who put that look in your eye, or are you going to keep me guessing?’

He could feel the flush on the back of his neck. ‘Woman?’ he said casually.

His mother sighed. ‘You’re going to keep me guessing. OK.’

‘Whatever makes you think there’s a woman?’ he asked with feigned amusement.

‘Patrick!’ The gently teasing reproof undid him. He never could hide anything from his mother.

He laughed awkwardly. ‘Her name’s Anna Jarvis. She’s single, about twenty-five, a staff nurse.’

‘And you like her?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I like her. She’s a good colleague.’

‘And you find her attractive.’

‘She’s all right. Nothing special.’

His mother snorted softly. ‘Patrick, you’re a lousy liar. She’s lit a fire under you, I can tell. Why don’t you let it burn, for a change?’

‘For what? Casual sex? I thought you didn’t approve.’ His voice was deliberately light, but his mother wasn’t fooled.

‘I don’t. There are other relationships ‘

‘Mother, I am not getting married again!’

Patrick smacked his glass down too hard and stood up, ramming his hands into his trouser pockets and glaring down the darkening garden.

His mother’s hand was gentle on his shoulder. ‘Patrick, I’m sorry. It just hurts me to see you so alone. You’re like a caged lion without a mate. You need a partner, someone to share things with.’

‘I had a partner.’

‘I know.’

Her hand fell away and Patrick heard her chair creak as she sat down again. ‘Tell me about the set-up in the department.’

He forced his feelings back down, the grief, the rage, the frustration, and lowered himself into the chair again.

‘Only if you’ll promise not to needle me.’

‘I promise.’

Patrick snorted. She might as well have promised not to breathe.

Anna smoothed back the tumbled curls from the little face and smiled. ‘You go to sleep now, my darling.’

‘Night-night,’ the little cherub mumbled round her thumb.

‘Sleep tight,’ Anna whispered, bending to kiss the warm, smooth skin of her daughter’s cheek. Her lashes fluttered down, the busy day catching up with her, and Anna eased away from her and stood up, stretching her aching muscles.

She had been crouched over the bed reading to Flissy for nearly an hour, she realised in astonishment. She left the room quietly and went back into the sitting-room. Her coffee was cold, so she made another and curled up in front of the television.

It couldn’t hold her attention, though. Instead her mind strayed to a tall, smiling man with gentle hands and a stubborn streak about a mile wide. She reminded herself that he was married, and then allowed herself to admit that nothing he had done could be construed as flirting. Not unless you counted feeding her until she groaned.

Anna’s mouth tipped again, remembering the lunch. It had been wonderful, a real feast. She had eaten far too much, but it was just as well. The contents of her fridge had been scant to say the least. She had given Flissy the last egg and a bit of cheese in an omelette, but there had been nothing left for her apart from a couple of slices of stale bread. She’d had toast, smeared with a little honey, and was thankful that she wasn’t hungry.

Kathleen was right; she ought to take better care of herself, and Flissy too. Their diet was woefully inadequate. She made a vow to get to the shops tomorrow on her way home.

Ouch.’

‘Hmm.’ Anna, standing beside Patrick looking at the X-rays, couldn’t understand how their patient was still in such comparatively good condition. He’d been trapped by several tons of steel across his chest and pelvis, and when they had lifted it away his leg had been lying beside his arm, bent up courtesy of his shattered pelvis.

And shattered it most certainly was. A large part of his hipbone was detached and lying oddly, and the bones which formed the bowl of the pelvis were broken on both sides at the front and on the right at the back. As a result his whole pelvis was grossly unstable.

As if that wasn’t enough, both femurs were fractured, the right in two places, and his left hip was dislocated. In short, he was a mess.

Nick Davidson was on his way down from Theatre to see the plates, and it was likely the man would go straight there for emergency surgery to fix his pelvis and femurs. In preparation for such an event they had taken blood for cross-matching already, and were running in Haemacel to replace the massive blood-loss caused by his fractures. Whether there was any other damage was unclear as yet, but he was being closely watched. It was hard to tell from the circulatory loss alone, because fractures of that order caused such massive blood-loss that abdominal injuries could easily go undetected.

Nick wandered in as they stood frowning at the X-rays, and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. ‘Hi, folks. This my customer?’

‘Yup.’ Patrick filled him in, and Nick winced.

‘Sounds nasty.’

‘It is.’