Sheikh Surgeon, Surprise Bride. Josie Metcalfe

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СКАЧАТЬ sudden sickening idea burst into her brain. Was that why she’d got the job in the first place? Not because she was the best candidate for the job but because Reg thought she would be a weak and feeble woman?

      ‘What?’ Razak demanded, breaking into her unpalatable thoughts.

      ‘What, what?’ she countered, wondering if he was waiting for an answer to another question. She honestly couldn’t remember.

      ‘I wanted to know if you’d reached a conclusion?’ he asked patiently.

      ‘A conclusion about what?’ she temporised, hoping he would tell her which part of their conversation she’d missed.

      ‘Well, you obviously had some sort of an internal debate going on just then, and from the expressions on your face I would guess that there was something said at your interview, but that someone—either Colin or Reg, but most likely Reg—prevented anyone telling you the whole story. So…’ He frowned in concentration, far too close to the truth for her comfort. He really did seem to be able to read her thoughts. ‘You were wondering why he didn’t want you to know. After all, it would strengthen his case to have good surgeons withdrawing their candidacy for the job because they didn’t like what they were being asked to do…No! That’s not it!’ he contradicted himself with a closer look at her face, as though the words were actually written there. ‘You were wondering whether the reason you were offered the job was because the appointment of a woman as my junior would make it less likely that the scheme would be given the go-ahead. You were wondering whether you got the job because you were the weakest candidate rather than the strongest. Am I right?’

      ‘Spot on,’she agreed through gritted teeth, steam practically coming out of her ears. ‘Just wait till I tell that pompous—’

      ‘Hey, don’t get mad, get even!’ he suggested, with a wicked grin that made his teeth seem even whiter in the darkened intimacy of their corner of the room.

      ‘How?’ she demanded, the thought definitely appealing.

      ‘Prove him wrong,’ he said simply. ‘Be everything you can be so that he has to eat his words not just about women as orthopaedic surgeons but also about the scheme I’m trying to get going.’

      ‘And about which I still have no idea,’ she pointed out, and it was like letting loose a tidal wave of enthusiasm.

      ‘It’s a whole new way of managing lists for orthopaedic surgery,’ he said with all the fervour of an evangelist, barely pausing to sample his meal when it arrived. ‘Not new in America, where some surgeons have been doing it for years, or in France, where they also use a similar system, but as far as Britain is concerned…’

      ‘Mr Khan?’ she interrupted with a touch of impatience.

      ‘Yes?’ his own impatience was even greater for having been halted in mid-flow.

      ‘What system are you talking about?’

      ‘Oh! Yes!’ He threw her a brilliant smile. ‘I forgot to start at the beginning, didn’t I?’

      ‘Yes, you did, Mr Khan,’ she agreed, for the first time feeling like smiling back.

      ‘In that case, I apologise, Dr Langley, but I—’

      ‘Lily,’ she offered, before he could go any further. ‘My name is Lily.’

      ‘Lily,’ he echoed thoughtfully, tilting his head on one side before shaking it. ‘No, that’s not the flower I was thinking of. I would have said jasmine.’

      He’d actually been thinking about her name or…

      ‘I’m wearing jasmine,’she blurted, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut when she realised she would have to explain. ‘My mother’s called Rose and she named us girls after flowers, too…Lily, Iris, Violet and Marguerite…and for years she’s given us flower-scented toiletries for Christmas and birthday presents. This year mine was—’

      ‘Jasmine,’ he finished for her, then shocked her to the core by taking her hand in his and bringing her wrist up to his nose. ‘No, nothing there,’ he pronounced, almost seeming disappointed.

      ‘Too much hand-washing,’ she suggested, to cover the shiver of response that travelled the length of her spine when his dark eyes almost seemed to take inventory of the other places he might search out to find the elusive scent.

      ‘Ah…you were saying?’ she fumbled as she tugged to retrieve her hand, horrified by how swiftly things had strayed away from the purely businesslike. ‘About the new system?’ she prompted, as she knotted both hands together on her lap, trying to quell the strange tingle that lingered where his fingers had held hers.

      ‘Ah…yes.’ She saw him blink as though it took an effort to gather his concentration. ‘It’s production-line surgery, to put it at its crudest. Have you heard anything about it?’

      ‘Where the surgeon has a whole string of operating theatres on the go at one time, with juniors starting and closing the operations while the consultant does the complicated bit in the middle? Yes, I’ve heard of it,’ she agreed with a buzz of excitement. ‘Is it true that some can keep twelve theatres busy at once?’

      ‘I believe so, although I didn’t witness it when I was over in the States, or when I was in France, where orthopaedic surgeons use a version of the same system.’

      ‘So what are the advantages over what happens here? Doesn’t it tie up an enormous number of other staff—anaesthetists, nurses and so on? And then there’s the number of specialist staff for post-operative care, too…and physiotherapists for mobilisation…and the number of beds needed all at once and…’

      ‘I know! I know! These are all the objections that Reg has been pointing out ad nauseam to anyone who will listen, even though I have told him that I only want to use two theatres and to operate for five hours instead of three and a half.’

      ‘So tell me about the benefits,’ she challenged.

      ‘For the hospital accountants, the first one is obvious,’ he said with a shrug. ‘The most expensive member of an operating team is the surgeon, and at the moment the hospital is paying for him…or her…to spend unnecessary time sitting drinking tea or coffee while they wait for the theatre to be cleared and restocked and their next patient to be prepped. It just doesn’t make economic sense to pay them to be idle.’

      ‘And secondly?’ she prompted, already seeing that he’d thought deeply about this, having seen the system working in other countries.

      ‘The benefit to the patients is when the waiting lists are cut to nothing,’ he said decisively. ‘Other countries are horrified by the idea that someone already in pain and needing replacement surgery for a hip, maybe, should then be put on a list and have to wait for up to nine months before their pain can be relieved. For some, the only bearable option is to pay to go privately, but for many, even that option is not possible because of the high costs involved. This just doesn’t happen in France, for example, because the production-line system means that the theatres and surgeons are utilised properly…to full capacity.’

      ‘And the disadvantages?’

      ‘Once again, financial, with the cost of building and equipping extra theatres, and then there’s the specialist theatre and ancillary staff. There’s СКАЧАТЬ