Scandal In Sydney: Sydney Harbour Hospital: Lily's Scandal

Evie and Finn sparked off each other. Evie gave as good as she got. They’d make a good pair, Luke thought, but, wow, there’d be some fights.

Maybe that’s what Finn needed. Fights. Someone to stand up to him.

His thoughts were flying tangentially. He was thinking about Finn. He was thinking about Tom.

He was thinking about Lily.

He didn’t do personal concern. Or he hadn’t. Suddenly he was surrounded on all sides.

In half an hour he had to take Lily home. Put her back into his bed. Make her something to eat …

Keep her safe.

No. Focus on Finn. Of the three worries, this was the easiest.

‘Tell me what you’re worried about.’

Evie exhaled and he thought this seemed liked a major decision, to talk to him about it.

‘Wednesday night … he was walking down the corridor in front of me, carrying patient notes in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Heavy pile in the left. Clipboard in the right. He dropped the clipboard. I … We’ve been a bit tense with each other so I stood back; hoping he wouldn’t turn around and see me. He stared down at the clipboard and then he stared at his hand. Swore. He set the notes down, put the clipboard on top of the notes and lifted them all in his left arm. Then he kept going, everything in his left arm, his right arm sort of tucked against him. And, Luke … yesterday in Emergency we had a guy who needed urgent stitching and I was flat out. Finn was passing. You know how he’s always passing. I called for help and he stitched for me. It was tricky. This was a guy’s face but Finn’s good. Anyway, fifteen minutes later I finished what I was doing, went to the cubicle where Finn was working and he handed back over to me. “This is your job,” he snapped. Okay, that’s his usual style. But, Luke, I’d swear his right hand was trembling.’

Silence.

Luke stared out of the window and watched the Manly ferry chug slowly across the harbour.

His boss. A shaking hand.

It was probably nothing—only Evie didn’t worry for nothing.

No matter how convoluted the gossip network of the Harbour became, Luke stayed detached. He liked to think he’d taught himself not to care, only of course he did care. From a distance.

Finn was a bad-tempered, surly, uncommunicative surgeon. He was one of the best surgeons Luke had ever worked with.

He was, like it or not, his friend.

How much of the single malt was he putting away?

So what to do? Head to Finn’s office and say, ‘I hear your hand’s shaking?’

There was not one snowball’s chance in a bushfire of that happening, and of getting back out of the door if he did.

Besides, he needed to check on Tom. And then take Lily home.

Lily, of the gaunt face. Lily, who was too thin even before the gastro.

She’d needed this weekend to recover and it had ended like this.

‘That’s all I wanted to say,’ Evie said, brisk again. ‘I just thought … someone else should know.’

Gee, thanks, Luke thought morosely. Hand over your worries to me, why don’t you?

But that wasn’t fair, and he stopped himself from saying it. Evie could have taken her concerns straight to the medical director. Eric would then be bound to take them further. The legal implications of an impaired director of surgery would make Eric act whether he wished to or not.

Evie had chosen the kinder path.

‘Thank you,’ he said heavily.

‘I’m sure you mean that,’ she said dryly. ‘Sorry, but I had to tell someone. Short of counting the whisky bottles in his garbage and confronting him with it, I didn’t know what else to do. So can you fix Finn as well as Lily and her mother? I’ll see to Uncle Tom.’

‘That’s hardly a fair division of labour.’