Читать книгу Rivals In Practice - Алисон Робертс - Страница 8

‘I STILL can’t believe it.’ Jennifer’s hazel eyes were alight with triumph. ‘We did it!’

‘He’s not out of the woods yet.’

‘He’s relatively stable. He’s come through the surgery and the bleeding is controlled. His blood pressure’s up and he’s breathing well on ventilation.’ Jennifer was smiling as she leaned over a tray and selected a suture needle. Andrew’s eyelids drifted slowly closed again but Jennifer didn’t notice. ‘They’ve almost cleared that slip on the road and there’s a team coming from Christchurch to transfer Liam to the intensive care unit. They’ll be here within a couple of hours.’

‘He still needs blood.’ It seemed to be a major effort to open his eyes again. Andrew had never felt so tired in his entire life. Even the strain of nearly three hours of conducting major surgery under primitive conditions wasn’t enough to explain this weariness. ‘I’m O-negative,’ he informed Jennifer.

‘Mmm.’ The light above the couch in the consulting room was catching Jennifer’s bent head. Her hair had dried during its confinement under the cap she had worn in their makeshift operating theatre. Now Andrew could see it was still the colour he remembered so well. A rich honey blonde. And it was still just as curly, with soft waves that almost reached her shoulders. ‘Can you feel this at all?’ Jennifer asked.

‘No. You put in enough local to numb an elephant.’

‘I needed to. This cut was right down to the bone. It must have hurt like hell.’ Jennifer was concentrating on her task. Andrew watched in fascination as she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth for a second. He could feel the tug deep in his calf muscle as another stitch was knotted into place. ‘No wonder you bled like a stuck pig,’ Jennifer commented.

‘I’m O-negative,’ Andrew repeated.

‘So you said.’ Jennifer glanced up. Her lips twitched as she reached for scissors. ‘I have to admit I couldn’t spot that. It looked just like ordinary blood to me.’

Andrew snorted. ‘You’re missing the point, Dr Tremaine. O-negative is a universal donor.’

‘Are you suggesting I’ve forgotten everything we learned at med school?’ Jennifer sounded cool. ‘I might point out that my marks in biochemistry were often better than yours.’

Andrew sighed inwardly. Jennifer hadn’t changed a bit. She still assumed that anything he said was in some way a criticism of her. She was still far too quick to defend herself by going into verbal attack mode. ‘What I’m suggesting is that I could donate some blood to young Liam Bellamy. A bit more haemoglobin circulating would do him a lot of good right now.’

‘You look like you could use a bit more yourself.’ Jennifer dropped the curved needle into a tray and picked up another. ‘We’re up to skin level now,’ she told Andrew. ‘I’ll try not to leave you with too much of a scar.’ She frowned at her patient. ‘You’re still looking rather pale. I think you probably lost more blood than I realised. I certainly wouldn’t even consider taking any more.’ Jennifer bent her head to her task again. ‘Besides,’ she added casually, ‘who knows what sort of condition your blood is in?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Andrew forced his weariness a little further away.

‘I’m talking about infectious diseases,’ Jennifer responded calmly. ‘Things like hepatitis or HIV.’

‘I wouldn’t have been licensed as a surgeon if I posed any threat of transmitting disease.’

‘How would they know?’

‘Try regular blood tests.’ Andrew felt a flush of annoyance. ‘I’ve been vaccinated for hepatitis and have documented proof that I’m clear of HIV.’

‘And when was your last test? Before or after you gave up your position as a surgeon?’

Andrew pushed aside the blanket covering his body. He felt distinctly overheated now. ‘Does it matter?’ he snapped. ‘Are you really interested in my sex life?’

‘No. Of course not.’ Andrew could see a faint flush of colour staining Jennifer’s cheeks.

‘Good. Because I would have nothing of interest to tell you. My sex life would bore anyone. Including me.’

Andrew felt a trickle of perspiration on his face. Was the heat responsible for giving him this wave of dizziness and nausea? Or was the stress of the last few hours catching up? Jennifer hadn’t been wrong about that cut hurting like hell. The pain hadn’t gone until she’d pumped local anaesthetic into his leg. And he had lost a lot of blood. He’d pushed himself to the limit after agreeing to operate on Liam Bellamy. While the assistance he’d had had exceeded expectations, it had still been a major achievement on his part to remove Liam’s spleen and control the massive abdominal blood loss. He was beginning to feel distinctly spaced out now. He gave up the effort of keeping his eyes open.

‘My sex life is non-existent,’ he heard himself saying. ‘How’s that for boring?’

The silence was odd. Andrew wondered whether he’d actually said the words aloud. Surely not! He opened his eyes to find Jennifer staring at him. Her expression was more peculiar than the silence.

‘You said you were on your honeymoon.’

‘I am.’ A silly grin plucked at the corners of Andrew’s mouth.

‘So where’s your wife?’ Jennifer was still staring. Lord, her eyes were gorgeous. Huge and round with the shade of hazel an exact match for the darker tones in her hair. Andrew blinked.

‘I didn’t bring her,’ he told Jennifer cheerfully. What was wrong with him? He was actually enjoying confessing his failure. ‘I’m starting a new trend,’ he added. ‘Solo honeymoons.’

‘Are you feeling all right?’ Jennifer was standing up. She appeared to be swaying slightly. ‘You look a bit hot.’

‘It is hot. This place is like an oven.’

‘It is warmer than it was,’ Jennifer conceded. ‘Jimmy came in to stoke up the old boiler because the emergency generator doesn’t cover the central heating. I’m not hot, though. I think I’ll take your temperature.’

‘Who’s Jimmy?’

‘Our caretaker. He’s married to Ruby.’

‘Who’s Ruby?’

‘Our cook.’ Jennifer was rummaging in a drawer. ‘Where is that thermometer?’ She glanced over her shoulder at Andrew. ‘Ruby came in as well. She’s making sandwiches for everybody. Are you hungry?’

‘No. Have you finished with my leg?’

‘I just need to put a dressing on it.’ Jennifer abandoned her search for the thermometer. She picked up a sterile pad and a crêpe bandage instead. The knock at the door of the consulting room halted her return to Andrew’s side.

‘Hi, Tom. Come in. I’m nearly finished here.’

Tom nodded at Andrew. ‘I just dropped by to let Mr Stephenson here know that his camper van’s been delivered to your place.’

‘Thanks, Tom. How are things looking out there?’

‘We’re over the worst. The weather’s starting to clear and there’s been no more accidents reported. The kids are all fine, by the way. Saskia wanted to know when you’ll get home.’

‘Not for a while yet, I’m afraid.’

Tom nodded again. ‘I’ll let her know. Is there anything you need here?’

‘We’re fine,’ Jennifer told the police officer. ‘Thanks to Andrew here, we’ve managed to cope with a fairly large crisis.’

‘So I heard.’ The glance Andrew received was one of respect. ‘John Bellamy’s here. Margaret’s taken him in to sit with Liam. He’d like a word.’

‘Of course. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.’ Jennifer turned quickly back to Andrew as Tom left the room. She peeled the backing off the clear, sticky dressing. Now it was Andrew’s turn to stare at Jennifer.

‘Kids?’ he queried softly. ‘How many have you got?’

Jennifer was beginning to wind the crêpe bandage around his leg. ‘Let’s see.’ She smiled. ‘There’s Angus. He’s three. The twins, Jess and Sophie, are six and Michael’s the oldest at eight.’ She glanced up with a quick grin. ‘I suppose I’d better count Vanessa as well. She’s still a baby at six months old.’ Jennifer reached for a roll of tape.

Andrew was stunned. Five children? And the oldest was eight years old? His weary brain didn’t want to do the calculations. His chest felt tight. No wonder he’d never stood a chance. Jennifer must have been pregnant for the first time before she’d even married Hamish. Well before she’d left medical school. No wonder she’d given up her ambitions to be a surgeon herself. It was amazing she found time even to be a country GP.

‘There.’ Jennifer smoothed the tape holding the bandage in place and stripped off the gloves she was wearing. ‘Why don’t you have a rest while I go and check on Liam? Ruby’s getting your clothes dry so you’ll be able to get out of those scrubs soon. I’ll get her to bring you a cup of tea.’

Andrew wasn’t listening. So many questions were forming themselves in his fuzzy brain. Like why wasn’t Jennifer wearing a wedding ring? And where was Hamish? Surely the man voted most likely to succeed in their year hadn’t lowered his sights to a career in a small, rural hospital? But if he wasn’t around, how come Jennifer was still producing babies? And how could she possibly still look as young and attractive as ever when she was the mother of five? The tightness in his chest changed to a tickle and then a major irritation.

‘That’s a nasty cough.’ Jennifer frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ Andrew forced himself to a sitting position. ‘I had a viral illness a couple of weeks ago. Left me with a touch of bronchitis.’

Jennifer was still frowning. She fiddled with the end of her stethoscope. ‘Maybe I should give you a proper check-up.’

‘Forget it. You’ve got real patients to see to. Like Liam.’

‘Wendy’s quite capable of monitoring things. She’ll come and get us if we’re needed.’

The second knock on the door made them both expect an instant summons to Liam, who still lay in the treatment room, but it was Suzanne who appeared in the doorway.

‘We need you, Jen. Liz has been in second stage labour for over an hour. The baby hasn’t turned and I’m not happy. Liz is exhausted and the foetal heart rate is dropping slightly during contractions.’

Wendy’s face appeared beside Suzanne’s. ‘Liam’s ECG is showing a few irregularities,’ she informed Jennifer. ‘Can you come?’

Andrew watched as Jennifer straightened her back. He could see the determination to cope in her face as it settled into a look of grim focus. She must be as tired as he was. She’d worked a full day before being called out to that accident site and she’d coped brilliantly with the unusual stress of major surgery being conducted in her treatment room. It must be years since she’d worked as an anaesthetist and it hadn’t been easy, dealing with a patient in Liam’s critical condition. She had two patients needing urgent attention now and he suspected that others were waiting. That middle-aged couple from the accident for starters. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch. His loose scrub-suit trousers unfolded to cover the bandage on his leg.

‘You see to the baby,’ he told Jennifer. ‘I’ll look after Liam.’

Gratitude for Andrew’s unexpected offer of assistance stayed with Jennifer until she stepped into the maternity suite. Then everything else was forgotten. Elizabeth looked awful. Her face was puffy and her eyes swollen and red. A considerable number of tears had clearly been shed since Jennifer had last seen her patient. She picked up the damp cloth lying on the bedside locker and sponged her patient’s face gently as she absorbed her impression of the young woman’s condition and watched the trace of the foetal monitor.

‘You’ve been coping so well, Liz. You’re not having an easy time of it, are you?’