Hot-Shot Surgeon, Cinderella Bride. Alison Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ Elsie had picked up on something being different. Only last week the prospect of a day in the emergency department would have been a treat.

      A poignant treat, mind you—it was like having her face pressed to a shop window that contained something ultimately desirable but equally unaffordable—but still an irresistible one.

      ‘I’m just a bit tired,’ she told Elsie, by way of excusing her lack of excitement. ‘I didn’t sleep very well.’

      ‘Are you OK?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ Kelly’s smile was wider this time. Physically, the only thing that had disturbed her rest was the pleasure of experiencing the delicious tingles her body could conjure up with remarkable ease as she remembered the night with her musketeer. ‘Maybe I just had too much excitement the night before.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Elsie looked unconvinced. ‘You haven’t said much about that. You did have a good time, then?’

      ‘Magic,’ Kelly affirmed.

      So fabulous she couldn’t begin to try describing it. And she didn’t want to, despite sensing that Elsie felt left out and maybe a little hurt.

      ‘I only went because of you,’ she added. ‘Thank you so much!’

      It had been a night of pure magic. One that she intended to treasure for the rest of her life. And that was where the problem now lay. The repercussions that were going to affect a very large part of her life.

      Reality couldn’t be allowed to intrude, because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that reality would tarnish, if not completely destroy, the joy of that magic. That was why she needed to keep it private, and not diminish its perfection by talking about it. It was also why the dreadful prospect of Tony Grimshaw recognising her at work had made sleep so elusive.

      ‘Is Flipper all right?’ Briefly mollified, Elsie was now frowning anxiously. ‘I did wonder if she had a bit of a sniffle on Saturday night. I noticed she was breathless going up my stairs.’

      ‘Was she?’ Kelly caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind whirling in a new direction. ‘I’ll mention it to Dr Clifford. She’s got a check-up scheduled for this week.’

      ‘But she’s not sick today?’

      ‘No. She couldn’t wait to get to crèche. As usual.’

      ‘What day’s her appointment?’

      ‘Wednesday. Sorry, Elsie. I forgot to say I wouldn’t be working.’

      ‘Not a problem. That’s why I keep you on the casual list and why you get sent all over the show. Speaking of which—’ Elsie glanced at her watch ‘—it’s seven-thirty already. They will have finished hand-over.’

      ‘I’m gone.’ Kelly stood on one foot and then the other to pull disposable shoe-covers over her old, comfortable trainers.

      ‘Report to the nurse manager when you get there. I’m not sure if they need you out front or in the observation area.’

      Kelly took the shortcut of some fire escape stairs, as familiar with the layout of this vast hospital as she was with her own home. It was a world of its own in here, and she loved it despite the fact that her dream had never had her working in quite this capacity.

      ‘Hey, Tom!’ Kelly gave a cheerful wave to an orderly pushing an empty wheelchair in the opposite direction. Then she turned abruptly and chose a different direction when she saw the group of doctors coming behind Tom. She could take another route to the emergency department. She could use the service elevator and avoid any risk of recognition.

      At least her uniform should be an effective disguise. The shower cap, the shapeless pink smock and the shoe-covers. Almost the same uniform the cleaners and kitchen staff wore—because, as a nurse aide, Kelly was part of the faceless army of people whose ranks stretched from groundsmen to technicians and kept this busy city hospital functioning the way it should. Making up the dark sky that allowed stars like Tony Grimshaw to shine so brightly.

      Emergency should be safe enough, Kelly reassured herself as she sped down the final corridor, past the pharmacy and gift shop. It was rare for someone other than a registrar to make an initial assessment of a need for surgery. Being around the cardiology wards or theatre suites might be another matter, however. Kelly would need to stay on guard.

      Not that she was likely to forget any time soon. Not when he was still in her head to this degree. When just a flicker of memory made her want to smile. Forgetting it enough to focus on her job might prove to be a problem, but it soon became apparent that her concern—for the moment, at least—was groundless.

      The department was busy enough to keep her completely focussed. Fetching and carrying supplies, taking patients to the toilet or supplying bedpans, dealing with vomit containers and spills on the floor. She’d worked here often enough to be familiar with everything she needed to know. Many of the staff recognised her. One nurse looked particularly pleased to see her when she took a fresh linen bag to hang in the main resuscitation area.

      ‘Kelly! Just the person I need. You know where everything is around here, don’t you?’

      ‘Pretty much.’

      ‘Help me sort out this mess?’ The wave indicated a benchtop littered with supplies that hadn’t been put away. ‘We’ve got an MVA victim coming in, and if it’s still looking like this when they arrive, my guts will be someone’s garters.’

      It was fun, working under pressure. Handling syringes and bags of saline and packages containing endotracheal tubes. Things that had once been so familiar. Part of the dream Kelly had been well on her way to attaining.

      ‘Want any sizes smaller than a seven on the tray?’ she asked the nurse. ‘Do you know what’s coming in?’

      ‘Something major.’

      More staff were beginning to assemble in the room.

      ‘Where’s Radiology?’ someone called. ‘And the surgical reg—is she on her way?’

      ‘I’d better get out of here,’ Kelly said.

      ‘No! Look!’

      Kelly looked. Cupboard doors were open below the bench, with supplies spilling into a heap on the floor. They encroached over the red line on the floor that was there to keep unnecessary personnel from the area around a patient. Right at the head of the bed, too, where the person responsible for the patient’s airway would be in danger of tripping over them.

      Swiftly, Kelly crouched and began to stack the awkward packages back into the cupboards, so focussed on doing it as quickly as possible she barely registered the increasing level of activity behind her.

      And then suddenly the double doors were pushed open and controlled chaos ensued.

      ‘Seventeen-year-old, pushbike versus truck,’ a paramedic informed the receiving doctor. ‘Handlebar of the bike penetrated the left side of his chest. Intubated on scene and decompression attempted for a tension pneumothorax. Oxygen saturation’s currently—’

      Kelly was rising slowly to her feet, her back to the bench, and she slid sideways to get out of the way, horrified at being somewhere she СКАЧАТЬ