Hot Single Docs: The Playboy's Redemption. Carol Marinelli

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      ‘I’m right outside, darling,’ he said, only Izzy could hear his clear warning.

      ‘Lie down here, Evelyn,’ Izzy said, then headed over to the small bench in the corner and turned on the radio. ‘Let’s have some music to distract you.’ She washed her hands and pulled on some gloves and then gently gave the wound a clean before injecting in some local anaesthetic. ‘I’m fine on my own, Vivienne,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s pretty busy out there.’

      ‘I’m to cut for you,’ came the response, but Izzy could cut her own stitches and wanted to be alone with Evelyn, except Vivienne wouldn’t budge. ‘Beth told me to get into Theatre as much as I could.’

      ‘Could you get me some 3-0 catgut?’ Izzy said, knowing they had run out but checking the wound as if that was the thread she needed. ‘There’s none here, but I think there should be some in the store cupboard.’

      ‘There isn’t any,’ Vivienne said. ‘I did the stock order with Beth this afternoon.’

      Vivienne needed a crash course on taking a hint, but Izzy didn’t have time right now. Evelyn only needed a couple of stitches and Mr Harris would no doubt start to get impatient soon, so Izzy dragged the stool over with her foot and given the time constraints realised she would have to be more direct than she would normally choose.

      ‘Evelyn,’ Izzy said, ‘is there anything you want to tell me?’

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘I know,’ Izzy said gently. ‘I know that you didn’t just trip...’ She watched her patient’s nervous lick of her dry lips, her eyes anxiously dart to the theatre door. ‘He can’t hear,’ Izzy said. ‘That’s why I put the radio on. You can talk to me.’

      ‘Can you just do your job and suture me?’ Evelyn bristled. ‘I tripped! Okay?’

      ‘There’s a bruise on the opposite cheek, finger marks on your arms. I can sort out help...’

      ‘Really?’ The single word was so loaded with sarcasm, just so scornful and filled with dark energy that Izzy let out a breath before she spoke next.

      ‘I can ring the social worker. There are shelters...’

      ‘I’ve a seventeen-year-old son.’ Evelyn’s lip curled in bitter response. ‘The shelters won’t let me bring him with me. Did you know that?’ she challenged, and Izzy shook her head.

      ‘So what do you suggest, Doctor? That I leave him with him?’

      ‘No, of course not, but if I get someone to speak with you, they could go through your options. I can speak to the police. You don’t have to go back tonight.’

      ‘You’re not helping, Doctor,’ Evelyn said. ‘In fact, you could very well be making my life a whole lot worse.’

      The stitches took no time, and Izzy knew that dragging it out and keeping

      Evelyn’s husband waiting would only make things worse for her patient, but as Vivienne snipped the last thread Izzy had one more go.

      ‘Is there anyone you can talk to? A friend perhaps...’

      ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’

      Except Izzy did.

      ‘I don’t have friends! At least, none of my choosing.’

      Evelyn struck a dignified pose as she swung her legs down from the gurney and Izzy recognised the glare in her eyes only too well, because she had shot out that look many times before if anyone had dared so much as to assume that her life was less than perfect.

      ‘Do I need to sign anything?’ Evelyn asked.

      ‘No.’ Izzy shook her head. ‘If you...’ She looked at Evelyn and her voice trailed off. Evelyn’s decision to stay wasn’t going to change, not till her son’s future was taken care of. Izzy just hoped to God she’d survive that year. ‘When was your last tetanus?’

      ‘I had one...’ Evelyn swung her bag over her shoulder ‘...six weeks ago.’

      I’ll bet she did, Izzy thought as she stood there, clearing the trolley. She could see her hands shaking as she disposed of the sharps and as Evelyn left Theatre, Izzy had to bite on her lip as the young nurse’s disbelieving voice filled the still room.

      ‘Straight back to him...’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘Why doesn’t she just lea—’ And then Vivienne’s voice abruptly halted as perhaps she remembered who she was talking to and what had had happened the night Izzy had tried to just leave.

      ‘She has her reasons,’ Izzy said. ‘And, frankly, if that’s your attitude, she’s hardly likely to share them with you.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Izzy.’

      And she could have left it there, but Izzy chose not to. Vivienne was thinking of a career in Emergency and, well, it was time she faced a few home truths.

      ‘You’re a nurse,’ Izzy said, and her voice wobbled with long-held-in emotion, ‘not the bloody jury. Remember that when you’re dealing with patients in Emergency.’

      Her shift was nearly over and all she wanted was out, so she left the messy trolley and was tempted to just go to the lockers and get out of there. She was angry and close to tears and there was Evelyn walking out of the department, her husband’s arm around her. Then he stopped and fished his phone from his jacket and took a call, and Evelyn patiently waited then she turned and for a second. For just a teeny second their eyes locked and and it was the secret handshake, the password, the club, and

      Evelyn’s expression changed as she realised her doctor was a fully paid up member...

      ‘Mrs Harris...’ Izzy scribbled down her mobile number on a head injury information chart and walked briskly over. ‘Sorry.’ Izzy gave a busy shrug. ‘I forgot to give you this. Here’s your head injury instructions, have a read through...’

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘And watch out for that cat!’ Izzy added, then gave a vague smile at Evelyn and one to her husband before they walked off into the night. Izzy’s heart was thumping, not sure what she had just done and not sure what she would even do if Evelyn did call.

      She just wanted to do something.

      ‘Izzy!’

      That Spanish voice was too nice for her mood right now.

      ‘Can I ask a favour?’ Diego gave her a smile as he poked his head out of a cubicle, but she didn’t return it.

      ‘I’m about to go off duty.’

      ‘I was off duty forty minutes ago and I’m back on in the morning.’ Diego wasn’t quite so nice now. One of his mums was about to tip into trouble, the mother of one his precious babies no less. He had spent two hours dealing with red tape, trying to get hold of her GP to fax a prescription, to no avail, or to get a doctor on NICU to see Maria, but of course she wasn’t actually a patient at the hospital.

      Yet!

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