Playing the Playboy's Sweetheart. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ standards, a heartbreaker.

      ‘Is Candy very upset?’ Louise asked a colleague as she tucked her long blonde hair into her hat.

      ‘What do you think?’ came the response. ‘I just saw her in the canteen, crying her eyes out with a little crowd gathered!’ She smiled at Emily. ‘I’m Annie.’

      ‘Hi, Annie,’ Emily said, but Annie was already back talking to Louise.

      ‘Mind you,’ Annie continued, ‘I don’t get why she’s carrying on so much—surely everyone should know that if you go into any sort of a relationship with Hugh it’s going to be fleeting at best, heartbreak at worst.’

      ‘Watch yourself.’ Louise winked at Emily.

      ‘No need to,’ Emily said, ‘because he shan’t be breaking mine!’ But though she had laughed as she’d said it, in fact she wasn’t joking.

      Emily loathed anything remotely fleeting and no one would get close enough to break her heart. She had decided that many, many years ago.

      Still, she was somewhat sideswiped by Hugh Linton’s exceedingly good looks because when he first walked into the operating theatre Emily found out first-hand what the word ‘presence’ meant.

      He was very tall and his hair was as blond as Emily’s was dark. He had the greenest eyes that she had ever seen and his voice was deep and clear, the type who rarely needed to repeat themselves. His smile, as he chatted with Louise and then caught Emily’s eye, did make a slight blush spread across Emily’s cheeks and confirmed what she already knew—Hugh Linton was far from her ideal man!

      ‘Morning, everyone!’ Alex, the senior consultant, came in, having just been in to have a last word with the patient before surgery. ‘It’s going to be a long one,’ he warned as he went off to scrub.

      The operation was for the removal of an abdominal tumour in a twenty-six-year-old man. It was a complex tumour and before the operation commenced and the patient was brought in, Alex explained why he was doing open surgery as opposed to keyhole, which was his speciality. Then there was time for a little chat.

      ‘I’ve already heard about your weekend, Hugh,’ Alex said, as he was helped into his gown and gloves. ‘I’ve heard about it from several sources, in fact, and so I don’t need to hear it again.’

      Hugh just grinned.

      All joking was cast aside, however, when the patient was opened up and the tumour was found to be worse than Alex had been expecting.

      Emily was, this morning, the circulation nurse, a part of which meant ensuring the operating field was uncontaminated as well as accounting for equipment. Emily loved most roles in Theatre but circulation or scrub nurse were her two favourites and today it was nice to watch how the surgeons worked from a distance, so she could know their nuances when she scrubbed in.

      ‘Not good,’ Alex said, once he had opened the patient and taken a good look around. ‘We’re going to be here for a few hours, Rory,’ he said to the anaesthetist.

      It was a very long and intricate operation but it went very smoothly, even with a difficult turn of events—though not for the patient. Instead, there was unexpected news for the chief surgeon.

      ‘Alex, Jennifer is on the phone,’ Louise said, and Emily watched as Alex paused and frowned.

      ‘Bring the phone over to me.’

      Louise held the phone to Alex’s ear and Emily glanced over at Hugh, who was looking at his boss as he spoke to his wife—she had clearly asked not to be put through.

      ‘Well, they’re under my instructions to put you through if you call,’ Alex said, and then listened for a moment. ‘I’m here for a couple more hours at least,’ Alex said, and then listened some more. ‘Okay, darling, please keep me informed. I love you.’

      When Louise turned off the phone Alex was quiet for a moment before revealing his news. ‘Jennifer’s up on the delivery ward.’

      ‘When is she due?’ Hugh asked.

      ‘Not for another six weeks.’ He carried on working. ‘How long do fourth babies take, Louise?’ he tossed out to the runner. ‘Small ones?’

      ‘Hopefully more than two hours.’ Louise answered his black humour with her own. ‘I’m a midwife as well,’ she explained to Emily.

      Theatre was an intricate and complicated world.

      Every swab was counted, every pause noted, every instrument’s date of sterilisation checked, not a single blade or needle went unnoted—a seemingly seamless task but it was the black box of surgery and one that required a whole lot of effort from the first to the last in the room.

      A small pause in proceedings ensued as Alex and Hugh had a drink of water and then re-gloved then they got back to work and Alex somehow did what he had to and concentrated on the patient.

      There was no rushing.

      For the young man on the table Alex Hadfield’s work was his very best chance at life. Emily watched as Alex explained things to Hugh and carried on as if his wife wasn’t in premature labour halfway down the corridor, but close to midday he looked over at Hugh.

      ‘I can take it from here,’ Hugh said, as Louise took a phone call.

      ‘I have your wife on the phone,’ Louise said, and Alex pulled of his gloves and took the phone and told Jennifer that he was on his way.

      ‘Oi,’ called Hugh as Alex walked off. ‘Don’t we get to know?’

      But Alex was gone.

      Hugh asked for a swab count before he closed, as was procedure.

      Then he asked for another one.

      Emily took no offence.

      The operation had been interrupted, and she was also new.

      Emily took absolutely no offence and counted again all the swabs and the instruments carefully.

      It was her job to do so.

      ‘Thanks,’ Hugh said as, satisfied nothing was amiss, he started to close.

      Lunch was very welcome but Emily found herself concentrating on more than her food when Hugh took a seat near her.

      He smelt fantastic—somehow crisp even after hours spent operating—and his long outstretched legs were far too easy on the eye.

      Oh, he was so far from ideal!

      Emily’s ideal man came with some very specific prerequisites—looks didn’t matter, she would prefer that he was serious and that he didn’t make her laugh too much.

      Neither must Emily’s perfect man imbue in her a sudden desire to get naked.

      No, Emily’s perfect man was perfectly nice if somewhat staid.

      In her ideal world they would have sex on Saturdays, more out of obligation than necessity—occasionally on СКАЧАТЬ