Читать книгу A Change Of Heart - Алисон Робертс - Страница 7

PERHAPS it wasn’t so great to be back after all.

Feeling out of sorts was such an infrequent experience that David was seriously disturbed. Lack of sleep hadn’t helped. Had it been a medical emergency that had kept him awake most of the night he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. In fact, the adrenaline would still be running and he’d be in top form for at least another twelve hours. It was his accommodation that was problematic. The temporary arrangement for the room in the staff quarters had seemed perfect, but the walls were thin and the young medic next door had clearly scored in a big way with a woman who seemed to find the whole business excruciatingly funny. A pneumatic drill would have been much less disruptive than her giggles. Even when he’d finally managed to fall asleep the experience had been less than restful.

‘It was a nightmare,’ he related solemnly to Mike Foster. ‘Crushing chest pain, electrodes plastered all over me and Lisa Kennedy standing at the end of the bed…Smiling.’ He punctuated his tale with a woeful groan.

Mike grinned. ‘Lisa’s OK. Don’t judge her on the basis of one bad day.’ He pointed to a fire-stop door coming up on their right. ‘Let’s take a short cut.’ Mike led the way up the stairs. ‘If anybody’s kept me sane over the last year it’s been Lisa.’ He shot his companion a quizzical glance. ‘In fact, she’s a lot like you.’

‘What a ghastly thought!’

‘She works bloody hard, plays just as hard, great sense of humour…’ Mike was sounding breathless. ‘And a body to die for.’

‘I plan to keep living,’ David muttered.

‘You’d be perfect for each other.’

‘I doubt it. She thinks I’m a glorified plumber. A knife-wielding technician with a God complex. Surgeons suck.’

‘Ah! Well, there’s a bit of a history there.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Despite himself David felt curious. By tacit agreement the two men paused at the top of the stairs, screened from the corridor by another set of fire-stop doors. ‘Perhaps you’d better fill me in.’

‘Have you met Lewis Tanner yet?’

David shook his head. The hospital’s third cardiothoracic surgeon had not put in an appearance during his tour of introduction yesterday.

‘Lewis arrived about eighteen months ago—about the same time Lisa started here. ‘‘Sex on wheels’’, as one nurse was heard to report. Wealthy, confident, charming and…single.’

‘And Dr Kennedy fell for him.’ David nodded, feeling somehow disappointed.

‘Not exactly. He fell for Lisa—in a big way. She did go out with him a few times.’

‘And?’

Mike glanced around them and lowered his voice. ‘Lewis presented her with an engagement ring. A rock that could have given her carpal tunnel syndrome if she’d worn it for any length of time.’

‘A generous man.’

‘Mmm.’ Mike bit back a smile. ‘Unfortunately he was overheard by a secretary telling your predecessor that he had no intention of marrying Lisa. The engagement seemed to be the price he’d have to pay to get her into the sack, so he was happy to fork out and with a bit of luck he might even get the ring back later.’ Mike cleared his throat expressively. ‘Word got around, you know?’

‘I know.’ David smiled wryly. He looked at Mike curiously. ‘So Lisa knew what was going on, then? I take it she didn’t accept?’

‘Oh, she accepted it. She returned it a day or two later. Lewis was not impressed.’

David said nothing. He had a feeling there was more to the story. Sure enough, Mike laughed quietly but gleefully as he gave another quick glance over his shoulder.

‘Lisa had the ring valued. She put it in a clear plastic envelope with the formal valuation. She also put in an address of a local house of pleasure with a suggested list of services—all couched in the most tasteful euphemisms—that added up to the exact worth of the ring. Then she posted it in the internal mail system.’

David whistled silently. Half the hospital had probably seen it before it arrived at its destination. And the other half would have heard about it.

‘Photocopies of the list still surface occasionally,’ Mike added wonderingly. ‘It was a major form of entertainment for months, trying to guess what some of those services might actually be. Even Lewis came to see the funny side—or pretended he did. I suspect it bumped up his estimation of Lisa Kennedy no end but he had no show after that.’

‘I’ll bet.’ David shook his head. ‘No wonder she’s not too keen on surgeons.’

‘Don’t take it personally.’

‘Funny, that’s what she said.’

‘She goes out with Alan Bennett now.’

‘What?’ David was appalled. ‘He’s old enough to be her father.’

‘It’s a convenient arrangement. They accompany each other to medical functions. Lisa’s great company.’

‘So it would seem.’ David’s tone was ironic. ‘Is there anyone she doesn’t go out with?’

Mike laughed again. ‘Yeah—Lewis Tanner.’

‘Can’t wait to meet the guy.’

‘You don’t have to wait,’ Mike promised. He pushed the door open. ‘Let’s go and see if he’s putting in an appearance at this meeting for once.’

Lewis Tanner would be in his early forties, David guessed. He was charming, sure enough. His welcome for David and apologies for missing his visit the day before were quite sincere. David eyed dispassionately the tall, impeccably dressed figure, the smooth, glossy black hair, the blue eyes and the automatic smile. David had more than a passing interest in keeping up his own appearance but Lewis Tanner made him feel distinctly scruffy. Perhaps it was the silk handkerchief or the miniature carnation in his buttonhole. Or maybe it was the unnaturally high sheen on his black shoes. Instinctively, he disliked the man and he spent the first ten minutes of the meeting trying to fathom out why.

The meeting was a regular weekly occurrence. Cardiology staff presented their referrals for surgery and decisions were made on priorities and theatre lists. The cardiothoracic team had a similar meeting later in the week with the respiratory department. David was only half listening to Lisa as she went through the scoring system on the sixty-two-year old woman being referred.

‘Severe triple vessel coronary artery disease,’ Lisa stated. ‘Left main stem was normal but there is a seventy to eighty per cent stenosis on the left anterior descending. Dominant right coronary artery with an eighty per cent lesion in its mid-conduit portion and further fifty per cent lesion prior to the origin of the posterior descending artery.’

David watched Lewis Tanner who was watching Lisa. There was no hint of any personal animosity or long-held grudges. It was interesting to note that Lisa could hold a professional relationship with someone who had failed so stunningly to make it on a personal basis. There was hope for David yet. Lewis was nodding occasionally in agreement and his expression suggested that he was impressed at Lisa’s presentation. From the angle David was sitting at he could follow the line of Lewis’s gaze quite accurately, however.

Lisa had crossed her legs and David had to admit that the glimpse of thigh offered by the split skirt was arresting. When Lisa paused momentarily in her summary he glanced up and was startled to find her eyes fixed on him in a baleful glare. She looked away as soon as David caught her eye and continued her presentation, but he could have sworn her lip curled fractionally. It was only then that he realised what had caused her disgust. His tie felt suddenly over-tight. He adjusted the knot with a casual movement but his lips were pressed firmly together. Damn the woman! Now she assumed he had been sitting there thinking of nothing but her legs!

‘Class one angina with ongoing pain at rest,’ Lisa finished up. ‘The echo shows a well-preserved left ventricular function with an ejection fraction of eighty per cent. We recommend urgent revascularisation.’

‘Of course,’ Lewis murmured. ‘Let’s get her on the list for this week.’

That was it. David forgot about Lisa—her legs, her attitude problem and even her scary ability to publicly humiliate surgeons. He found himself nodding but his agreement had nothing to do with the patient. He realised why he didn’t like Lewis Tanner. The man was assuming a controlling influence in the group even though the heads of both departments were sitting nearby. He oozed confidence in his own opinion and reeked of assumed power.

David’s glance shifted to Alan Bennett. The older surgeon’s face was impassive as he nodded agreement but David could sense the undercurrent. He swore silently. What kind of interpersonal warfare had he stepped into? He resolved to keep silent until he got a better feel for what was going on.

He didn’t have long to wait. Mike Foster launched into a polite but clearly personal criticism of Lewis Tanner.

‘We don’t seem to have resolved the communication difficulties between departments, Lewis. The Monday morning elective angioplasty slot is required to have surgical back-up for any emergency. You were covering this slot yesterday.’

Lewis raised his hands, palms upward, the diamond on his signet ring catching the light. ‘I know, I must apologise again. It was—’

Mike interrupted him. ‘It was a potential disaster. We had our patient on the table, sedated and finally psyched up for what she viewed as a major procedure. We were unable to contact you to confirm your availability.’

‘That’s because I wasn’t available.’

‘Precisely. Owing to the lack of communication, the only indication we received was the message that your cellphone was switched off.’

‘I had an emergency at Greenpark. As you know.’ Lewis Tanner’s tone suggested that the explanation should not have needed repeating. David’s brow creased thoughtfully. Greenpark was a private hospital. He had declined his own offer of operating privileges there.

‘Our patient was highly stressed by the delay and eventual cancellation of her procedure. She went on to have an acute myocardial infarction and required emergency angioplasty yesterday afternoon. For which, fortunately, surgical back-up is not mandatory.’

Lewis’s shrug was barely noticeable. ‘She got her procedure done, then, didn’t she?’ He shot back a cuff to expose a discreet gleam of gold. ‘I’m running out of time here. Is that it for today? Looks like we’ve got a full case load for the week.’

‘No, that’s not it for today,’ Lisa snapped.

David rather enjoyed the look of irritation on Lewis Tanner’s face but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

‘I would like further discussion regarding the case of Desmond Knight. He was readmitted yesterday with intractable angina. In the last four weeks he has spent eighteen days in the coronary care unit. His need for surgery has become progressively more urgent.’

This time the shrug was pronounced. ‘I reviewed the man last week. He’s not a good risk. He’s hypertensive, hyperlipidaemic and overweight. Above all, he’s still smoking. As I told him, he has to be prepared to take some responsibility for the outcome of his surgery. I’m not prepared to operate until I have concrete evidence that he’s given up smoking and is making an attempt to lose weight.’

‘His level of angina precludes any form of exercise.’ Lisa was clearly angry. ‘He had cut down to one cigarette a day. The stress of receiving your letter suggesting that surgery would not be available was enough to push him back into it. He’s forty-three years old with four children to support. He hasn’t been able to work for six months. I’m quite confident that a chance to live a normal life will be more than enough incentive for him to make the appropriate lifestyle changes post-surgery.’

‘It hasn’t been enough of an incentive so far.’

David’s resolve to stay silent evaporated. ‘Is this a departmental policy?’ he enquired.

‘No, it’s not.’ Alan Bennett broke the tense silence. ‘Lewis’s principles are well known but not necessarily shared to the same degree. Desmond Knight was referred initially to Lewis but I think a change of consultant at this point might be advisable.’

‘I’ve got a theatre slot tomorrow morning,’ David announced. ‘Has that been filled?’

‘No.’ Alan Bennett smiled. ‘We planned to ease you in gradually.’

‘I’m more than happy to start operating immediately,’ David offered. He smiled at Lewis Tanner. ‘As long as you don’t object to me poaching one of your patients?’

‘Not at all, old chap.’ Lewis smiled back. ‘Are you sure you want to? Operating on no-hopers like Mr Knight will play merry hell with your statistics.’

‘I’ll take the risk.’ David felt as if his smile was glued on. The eye contact with his colleague was challenging. He definitely did not like this man. No wonder Lisa Kennedy was prepared to loathe cardiac surgeons on sight—particularly when they made it obvious they found her attractive. The thought made him shift his glance. The expression on both Lisa’s and Mike’s faces was enough reward for any risk he might be taking, politically or otherwise. If there was a line drawn in the sand here it seemed that David had unintentionally chosen which side to stand on. He was surprised at how good it felt.

‘Did you hear the one about the cardiac surgeon who told his patient that he had some good news and some bad news?’

‘Probably.’ David grinned. ‘I reckon I’ve heard them all by now.’ Desmond Knight was a bit of a character and they had established a quick rapport during the introductory interview David had just concluded. ‘Is the good news that you have twenty-four hours to live and the bad news that I should have told you yesterday?’

‘No.’ Desmond Knight chuckled. ‘The bad news is that he’s only got a week to live.’

‘And the good news?’

‘Well, the surgeon points to a nurse who’s really…’

‘Stunningly gorgeous?’

Desmond nodded enthusiastically. ‘And he said, ‘‘You see that great-looking nurse over there?’’ The patient looks and then he nods eagerly and looks back at the surgeon kind of hopefully and the surgeon says, ‘‘Well, the good news it that I’m taking her out on Saturday night.’’’

David laughed with genuine amusement. He even looked in the direction Desmond had been pointing, but there was no nurse, stunningly gorgeous or otherwise. There was, however, an impressive expanse of pink candlewick—a back view of Mrs Judd, her walking frame parked in the doorway as she stopped to catch her breath. David caught Desmond Knight’s eye.

‘Rather you than me,’ Desmond murmured.

The pink tidal wave receded, replaced almost instantly by the slim figure of Lisa. The contrast was astonishing and Desmond’s face brightened considerably.

‘Hi, Doc.’

‘Hi, Des. I see you’ve met our new surgeon.’

‘He tells me I’ll never play the violin again.’

‘You couldn’t play it before.’ Lisa’s smile was only for her patient but David could sense its warmth and felt oddly excluded.

‘I’ve just been explaining the surgery to Desmond here. We’re scheduled for 8 a.m. tomorrow.’

Lisa nodded. ‘I wondered if you had the time now to review everything. I’ve got all the notes and I’ve set up the cardiac catheter film in the viewing room if you want to see it.’

‘Of course. I was about to call you.’ David turned back to Desmond. ‘Try and have a good rest and I’ll see you in the morning.’ He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I’d better check out the home movie you had done in the cath lab. I wouldn’t want to miss a bit of plumbing that needs attention.’

‘Make sure you do the bolts up nice and tight. That’s what bothers me.’

David could see the fear beneath the levity. He reached out and gripped Desmond’s hand briefly. ‘No worries, mate. I’ll get you running on full bore and leakproof.’

The faint pink flush he could see on the back of Lisa’s neck indicated that she had not appreciated the interchange as much as Desmond Knight, but David hadn’t been able to resist rubbing her nose in it just a little. He would never admit to the extent that her attack had nettled him yesterday, but between that and the paroxysms of mirth from the neighbouring bedroom last night David had been sorely tempted to pack his bags and return to a more congenial hemisphere.

‘What time did Desmond come in yesterday?’

Lisa was flicking a series of switches, dimming the lights in the angiography viewing room. ‘About two o’clock.’ She moved swiftly towards the projector. ‘Why?’

‘Just curious.’ David took a seat, leaning back and resting his chin on one hand. The admission must have been just before he’d turned up in her office with her remaining belongings and that stupid rose. So that was what she’d been taking out on him—her frustration at being unable to provide the treatment her patient needed so desperately. Understandable. Commendable, even. But it didn’t excuse her earlier rudeness or that cutting remark about library books. Lewis Tanner may well have soured her opinion of newcomers but it was still inexcusable to act on it so blatantly.

‘You’ve got his hypertension under good control,’ he commented, picking up the case notes. ‘And coronary perfusion’s not looking too bad.’

‘Surprisingly,’ Lisa agreed. She started the projector. ‘We got these shots this morning.’

They both watched the screen—the shadowy background of the heart pumping, the outline of the main arteries and their filigree of branches darkening clearly as each dose of dye was injected.

David grunted. ‘Not pretty.’

‘No,’ Lisa agreed quietly. ‘It’s not.’

They went through the film twice. David held the catheterisation report in his hand the second time, checking the diagram that documented which arteries were damaged and to what extent. ‘We’re looking at a quadruple graft here,’ he murmured. ‘Should keep me out of mischief for the morning.’

‘Would you mind if I stood in for a while? If I get the chance, that is.’

‘Not at all.’ David deliberately gave his tone a professional detachment. Scrutiny was only to be expected as a newcomer, and David had never suffered from nerves due to an audience. This time yesterday his pulse rate would have jumped at the thought of being observed by Lisa but he was delighted to find himself unmoved today. Sure, the woman was physically attractive but his initial reaction had been ridiculous. She was a colleague. One who had advertised her ability to be antagonistic and would therefore need to be treated cautiously. The idea that she might be anything other than a colleague had fortunately vanished completely. He was no longer remotely interested despite Mike Foster’s advocacy of her virtues and suitability. That teenage-like surge of testosterone had been nothing more than part of the excitement of starting a new job and the pleasure of renewing old friendships. The novelty had worn off amazingly fast.

The theatre team was fantastic. David was delighted to find that the anaesthetist was Gerry Greene, a contemporary and one of the old party crowd. Now married with three children, he was still keen to arrange a get-together. The nursing staff were welcoming and the selection of CDs for some relaxing background music was surprisingly good. David’s choice of Dan Fogelberg was met with general approval. By the time Alan Bennett slipped in to observe, David had opened the chest, separated the sternum, retracted the ribcage and was carefully opening the membranous sac of the pericardium which enclosed Desmond Knight’s heart. His registrar was doing a very competent job of harvesting the leg veins required for the grafts.

‘I’m about to cannulate for bypass with aortic arterial and venous RAIVC lines,’ David informed Alan.

The transfer to bypass on the heart-lung machine was smooth, and by the time David applied the cross-clamp and stopped the heart by injecting the cardioplegic solution he was thoroughly enjoying himself. David loved surgery. Politics were non-existent. The goal was defined, everybody was working on the same side and he had the skills to lead them and deal with any complications. It was a dramatic occupation. David had often thought ‘theatre’ was a very appropriate name for the room. It was also often highly stressful, especially when unforseen difficulties presented themselves, but David thrived on the pressure.

‘7.0 Prolene, thanks.’ David handled the floppy section of empty vein gently as he sutured one end of it carefully into place. ‘OK. Let’s check the run-off.’ The adjustment of the clamp allowed blood volume to move through the graft and David nodded with satisfaction, before turning his attention to attaching the other end of the graft to the wall of the aorta.

He stood back and stretched some time later but the break in the long procedure was brief. ‘Let’s move on to the anterior descending, folks. We’re doing well.’

Lisa did not appear in Theatre until the last graft was being attached to the aorta. It would have been easy to miss her arrival, due to the number and activity of the theatre staff, but something made David glance up. The brown eyes were magnified by being the only exposed part of her face. Even by themselves they were remarkably expressive. David dismissed the faint jolt the recognition gave him but acknowledged Lisa’s presence with a slight nod.

‘Let’s get this cross-clamp off and check out the plumbing,’ he suggested, his smile hidden by his mask. David knew quite well that he’d done an excellent job. Even Lisa should be impressed. Alan and the theatre staff certainly were. Desmond Knight was weaned from bypass uneventfully and his heart restarted spontaneously.

The atmosphere in Theatre relaxed progressively as David wired the sternum back together and closed the chest. Gerry Greene’s plans for a dinner party had been finalised and other staff members were talking excitedly about an upcoming cardiovascular conference in the South Island tourist mecca of Queenstown.

‘Will you be going, David?’

‘I doubt I’ll be eligible for conference leave for a while.’

Alan laughed. ‘I forgot to tell you—we’ve got you down as one of the speakers. I don’t think leave will be a problem and it’s only for a weekend.’

David grinned. Speaking at a national conference on short notice shouldn’t be any problem and could only speed up his acceptance. It sounded great. Unconsciously, he found his gaze searching for the cardiology registrar, wondering whether she would be attending the conference. But Lisa had vanished and David merely shrugged mentally. It was of no great importance after all.

‘No! You musn’t do that, Donald.’

Both David and Jane Maddon turned at the sound of the alarmed protest. The familiar pink candlewick, wedged between the bars of the walking frame, was quivering ominously.

David’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me that’s Mr Judd.’ He eyed the pencil-thin, late-middle-aged man with some awe.

‘Sure is,’ Jane whispered. ‘He absolutely adores her. He comes in every day to look after her and do her washing.’

‘So I see.’ David was just as awed by the size of the pair of knickers Mrs Judd was pulling from her husband’s hands. Her voice had quietened due to the exertion of her protest but was still quite audible.

‘If you put them in the drier they’ll shrink, and then what’ll I do, Donald?’

David grimaced at Jane. The alternatives didn’t bear thinking about.

Jane smiled. ‘We have a laundry where patients and relatives can take care of their nightwear and smalls. Donald Judd uses it more than anyone.’

‘Smalls?’

Jane glanced at the item of clothing Mrs Judd had now draped over the bar of her walking frame. She elbowed David as she cleared her throat. ‘What can we do for you, Mr James? Are you on the hunt for new patients? I hear Mr Knight is doing very well.’

‘He is, indeed. I like the set-up in the post-surgery intensive care unit. Very impressive.’

Jane was watching Donald Judd hovering anxiously near his wife as she rolled slowly back to her room. ‘Mrs Judd is in need of some attention to her coronary arteries, I believe.’ She eyed David with amusement. ‘We just need to get her diabetes under better control and see if we can get on top of the asthma. Lisa has her scheduled for a cardiac catheter next week.’

David was backing off. ‘I really only came to find Mike. Is he around at the moment?’

Jane grinned. ‘I guess Mrs Judd will have to wait, then. Mike was helping Lisa with an admission a while back. Try the staffroom.’

Half expecting to find Lisa with her consultant, David was relieved to find Mike sitting alone. The feeling changed to one of concern as he saw how morosely Mike was hunched over half a cup of coffee.

‘What’s up?’

‘Upsetting admission.’ Mike shook his head sadly. ‘Fourteen-year-old boy with cardiomyopathy, Stephen Taylor. He’s been on the waiting list for a cardiac transplant for over six months. Went up to Auckland a couple of months ago but it all fell through. He’s not looking good right now.’ Mike sighed heavily. ‘Stephen’s a great favourite around here. He’s got a brilliant attitude to life. He’s particularly attached to Lisa Kennedy. She’ll probably be here all night, watching him like a hawk.’

‘Are you planning to hang around as well?’

‘No.’ Mike stood up and emptied his cold coffee down the sink. ‘Lisa’s more than capable of handling things and knows when to call me if she isn’t.’

‘Are you otherwise free?’

‘Of course. Permanent state of affairs these days.’

‘Good.’ David was determined to cheer his friend up. ‘Gerry Greene’s invited us both for dinner. Probably wants to rehash unsavoury memories. Could be just what you need.’

‘Could be.’ Mike was looking more cheerful already. ‘Sounds great. Gerry’s over the other side of town. Do you want me to give you a lift?’

‘No, thanks anyway. I’ve bought a car and this will give me the opportunity to give it a test run. I’ll meet you there at seven.’

The car was a heap but it had been all David could afford without putting himself into serious hock. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea, buying his parents that town house as a present to celebrate his father’s retirement. Property in central Auckland didn’t come cheap. Hell, it didn’t even come reasonable. Then he grinned as the engine on the aging Toyota finally caught and held. Of course it had been worth it. His parents had struggled financially all their lives and it had been their sacrifice that got him through medical school. The look on their faces when he’d presented them with the keys!

He had flown home for the occasion, having had his younger sister, Melanie, and a real-estate agent make all the arrangements. The project had had the useful spin-off of keeping Melanie out of trouble for longer than usual. His parents had been pleased enough about that—they couldn’t believe it when the reason for their daughter’s preoccupation had been revealed. The Jameses had only ever lived in rented houses and retirement had simply been yet another financial challenge. Now they could look forward to having the time of their lives. They were both fit and healthy.

Maybe when he got back on his feet again he’d shout them a trip through Europe. His own two-month jaunt, before returning to New Zealand, had been a wonderful experience but had also been responsible for clearing the last of his savings.

David joined the still heavy stream of traffic circling Hagley Park. At the first set of traffic lights the engine on his car died suddenly. David swore softly but got it started again just as the car behind gave him a blast on its horn. He began to feel concerned about his purchase but it seemed to be running fine until he had to slow for the roundabout at the next corner. The engine cut out without so much as a cough.

David tried to restart repeatedly as the traffic banked up around him. Cars tried to edge into the other lane to pass the obstacle he had created but other motorists were having none of it. Angry shouts and blaring horns contributed to the build-up of road rage. David opened his door, having released his handbrake. He ignored the insults thrown from a car of youths beside him and began to push, one hand on the steering-wheel, the other on the roof above the door opening. Nobody offered to help.

Once rolling, the car gathered speed and David fought to control the steering while he aimed for the side of the road. A front wheel mounted the kerb and David dived for the handbrake as he saw the cyclist on the footpath. Now he was stationary but only the front half of the car was off the road. He was still causing a traffic hazard. With an apologetic grin at the alarmed cyclist David released the catch and opened the bonnet. Surely someone would be able to offer a hand with his distress so clearly advertised.

Sure enough, a car pulled up, neatly mounting the kerb to park on the footpath, well out of the way of the traffic. A shiny, low-slung, convertible MGB. Bright red. A car buff! Just what the doctor ordered.

The driver climbed out. High-heeled shoes, long, slim legs, a neatly fitting skirt with a slit up the side.

‘No…’ David groaned. ‘It couldn’t be!’

It was. Lisa Kennedy had swapped her white coat for a tailored jacket in the same fabric as her skirt. She looked as though she would have a briefcase and several cellphones on her passenger seat.

‘Having problems?’

‘You haven’t got a cellphone on you, have you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Could you ring someone for me? A breakdown service?’

‘Let’s have a quick look first. What happened?’

David was feeling very tense. His popularity with the general public of Christchurch was rapidly plummeting. He’d heard some pretty colourful abuse in the last ten minutes and the traffic wasn’t showing any signs of abating.

‘The car stopped,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’d think it was fairly obvious.’ He glared at the elegant figure in front of him. ‘I also think it would be a good idea to clear the obstruction I’m causing.’ He shut his eyes briefly. ‘Now.’

‘Sure.’ Lisa was looking amused. ‘But it would probably take half an hour for a tow truck to get here. Do you really want to wait and listen to that?’

‘Get a horse!’ someone yelled. Lisa’s mouth twitched but she controlled her expression admirably.

David gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t know anything about cars.’

‘Hop in,’ Lisa ordered. ‘Turn the key and push gently on the accelerator.’

David didn’t move. ‘I do know how to start a car,’ he said coldly. ‘If that had worked, I wouldn’t be standing here now. And, yes, it does have some petrol in it.’

Lisa silently stepped around him and got into his car. The engine started first try and David swore profusely under his breath. He already felt embarrassed enough by his situation. Now he was going to look a complete idiot. The engine ran for thirty seconds and then died. Lisa turned it over but it failed to start. David was perversely relieved.

Lisa moved swiftly. Opening the tiny boot of her car, she pulled out a toolbox. Removing a torch, she marched back towards him. ‘Get in, turn it on and press suddenly on the accelerator,’ she commanded. Her attention was on his engine as she shone the torch into its depths.

With a frustrated grunt David did as he was told. At least he was partially hidden, sitting in his car. The insults had become appreciative whistles and hoots as Lisa leaned over the bonnet. David slumped a little further down in his seat.

‘Looks like it could be a problem with your fuel line.’ Lisa’s voice floated through the window. ‘Stay there.’ She collected some items from her toolbox, including a glass jar.

‘Turn the key—briefly,’ she called a minute later. David complied. ‘And again. OK, stop!’

David stuck his head out of the window. He watched as Lisa reconnected some tubing and then emptied the jar of petrol into the gutter.

‘Blocked fuel line, I think. Try her again.’

The engine caught, held, but then died. ‘For God’s sake,’ David muttered. ‘I did ask you to call a tow truck.’

‘This will only take a minute,’ Lisa snapped. ‘I’m going to check the spark plugs.’

David sat, drumming his fingers on the steering-wheel. The minute passed. And another. He jumped out. ‘I thought you were staying in the hospital overnight.’ He refused to be impressed by the confident manner with which she selected the socket and wrenches.

‘I am. I’m just going home to grab a change of clothes. Stevie’s asleep.’ Lisa shook her head. ‘Look at that. Black! It hasn’t even been firing. And this one’s oily, see?’ She held the spark plug under his nose. ‘Probably a shot PCV valve. When did you have this car in for a service last?’

‘I only bought it yesterday.’

Lisa’s look suggested that there was one born every day. She replaced the spark plugs and David watched as she continued working rapidly. ‘You need new spark plugs, your wiring’s just about had it and the battery’s corroded to hell. Did you even look under this bonnet when you bought this car?’

David grinned. The funny side of the situation finally struck him. A feminist plot to destroy a manhood. A role reversal to die for. ‘How come you know so much about engines?’ he countered.

‘I like old cars.’ Lisa nodded at the gleaming machine parked nearby, wiping her hands on a rag. ‘I could never have afforded to keep one on the road if I hadn’t learned to look after it myself. I’ve had this since I was a student.’ She looked back at David’s car. ‘How much did you pay for this?’

‘Two thousand dollars.’

‘Take it back,’ she suggested. ‘It’s worth about five hundred.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go. Have another try.’

The engine started instantly and chugged happily. Lisa listened for a minute. ‘Your timing’s way off.’ She shrugged. ‘Sounds like it might get you home, though.’ She slammed the bonnet shut. ‘I’ll follow you for a block or two, just in case.’