Читать книгу Surgeon On Call - Алисон Робертс - Страница 8

THE recognition was instantaneous.

Felicity spotted Joe in the emergency department from as far away as it was possible to get. She was entering the double doors that led from the end of the corridor dividing the department into the main area of Queen Mary Hospital. Joe was standing beside the bed in cubicle 3. On top of the bed sat a small girl with curly red hair. Even from that distance Felicity could recognise a struggle to keep on top of the fear, confusion and probably pain the child was experiencing.

The characteristic decisiveness in Felicity’s forward movement took her swiftly towards the sorting desk.

‘Who’s in cubicle 3, Mike?’

The nurse manager had been talking to senior consultant Gareth Harvey as he was entering information into a computer program. ‘Samantha Petersen. Four years old. Query greenstick fracture of the left radius.’

Felicity nodded. Joe Petersen’s daughter, then. Part of the family whose circumstances had somehow brought Joe to Christchurch. ‘Did she come in by ambulance?’

‘No. Her father brought her in a couple of minutes ago. He’s some sort of medic, apparently.’ Mike raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from the computer screen, clearly puzzled by the interest shown by a consultant in such a minor case.

‘Do you know him?’ Gareth also looked curious.

‘We’ve met.’ Felicity’s gaze flicked to the whiteboard. The spaces beside cubicle 3 had yet to be filled in.

Mike had followed her line of query. ‘I’m giving her to Mary. Colin White can see her later.’

Felicity’s gaze shifted again. The nurse, Mary, was pushing an IV trolley out of cubicle 6 so she hadn’t caught up on her new case assignment. She knew that Colin, one of the registrars, was still busy in the observation ward she had just come from herself. Nobody had attended to the Petersens yet.

‘I’ll deal with it, Mike. I’ve got a clear space unless there’s something urgent on the way.’

‘Nothing major. Possible infarct coming from out of town but they’re twenty minutes or so away yet.’

‘OK.’ Felicity’s nod was brisk. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’ She was already moving towards cubicle 3. It might not take very long but, boy, was she going to enjoy it! She pulled the curtain closed around the cubicle to create a more private examination area.

‘Hi, there, sweetheart.’ Felicity smiled at the child whose right arm was clutching a soft toy that looked like some kind of floppy dog. ‘What’s your name?’

Small lips pressed together tightly but the movement was not enough to stop a noticeable chin wobble. Large, frightened brown eyes were fixed on Felicity.

‘Tell the nurse your name, Samantha.’ The order was given in a kindly voice but the only effect was to make the child’s eyes swim with tears.

Felicity flicked Joe a brief glance. Nurse indeed. This was going to be even better than she had anticipated. She smiled at Joe’s daughter again.

‘My name’s Fliss,’ she told the child. ‘Do you go to school, Samantha?’

‘She’s not old enough for school. She goes to kindergarten.’ Joe’s tone was wary. Felicity knew he had recognised her now. His brain was ticking over, probably remembering their encounter with the spinal injury patient. Maybe he was wondering if he might have insulted her by not knowing she was a nurse. Nurse, ha! Felicity bit back a tiny smile. Joe would keep for the moment.

‘Do they call you Samantha at kindy, sweetheart?’

This time Felicity was rewarded with an almost imperceptible head shake.

‘What do they call you? Sam? Sammie?’

The slight movement changed to an affirmative direction. Felicity mirrored the nod as she perched casually on the bed beside the small girl.

‘Which do you like better? Sam or Sammie?’

‘Sam.’ The response was a whisper.

Felicity lowered her own voice to a similarly conspiratorial level. ‘Can I call you Sam?’

‘OK.’

‘Cool.’ Felicity winked at Samantha. ‘I’ll call you Sam and you can call me Fliss. Is that a deal?’

The smile was worth winning. It brightened up a pale little face which was dusted with freckles that matched the luxurious reddish blonde curls. Felicity’s visual impression had included more than the skin colour of her patient, however. She had, by now, assessed the level of the child’s responsiveness and distress, noted her respiration rate and seen the slight but obvious deformity of the left forearm that lay limply on the child’s lap. The right arm still clutched the tattered toy dog.

‘How did you hurt your arm, Sam?’

‘I...I fell out of the swing.’ The child’s glance towards her father made Felicity blink. Was Samantha afraid of giving the wrong answer? Was she afraid of her father? The continuation of the hesitant response raised Felicity’s suspicions another notch.

‘I...I didn’t hang on tight enough.’ A huge tear escaped and rolled down a freckled cheek.

‘It was an accident.’ Was Joe Petersen annoyed with the child or the inconvenience of a trip to the emergency department? Whatever the reason, the tone was inappropriate and not the normal interaction between a parent and child in such a situation. Felicity had already noted the lack of physical contact between the pair. What was going on here?

‘It doesn’t matter how it happened,’ she told Samantha gently. ‘What matters is that we fix up your arm. Does it hurt at the moment?’

Samantha nodded.

‘Did you hit your head when you fell out of the swing?’

‘She wasn’t KO’d,’ Joe said.

Felicity ignored him. ‘Does anything else hurt you, Sam?’

‘No.’ Again Joe answered on behalf of his daughter.

Felicity drew in a deep breath. She spoke calmly. ‘I think Samantha might be better qualified to answer that question than you, Mr Petersen.’

The muscular twitch in the man’s face gave away the incredulity his tone managed to conceal. ‘I believe my daughter has a greenstick fracture of the left radius. Perhaps you could do whatever baseline measurements your protocols dictate and then find a doctor who can authorise the necessary pain relief and treatment this injury requires.’

Felicity met the stare with equal directness. ‘I am a doctor, as a matter of fact. I’m one of the consultants in this emergency department.’ She allowed only a moment to let the implications sink in before adding a punchline she couldn’t quite resist. ‘And don’t worry, Mr Petersen. I may not be a neurosurgeon but I do know what I’m doing.’

She turned back to Samantha, satisfied that the stunned and distinctly discomfited expression on Joe’s face would take some time to dissipate.

‘I know your arm is sore, sweetheart, but I want you to try and wiggle your fingers for me. Can you do that?’

The movement produced was tentative but reassuring. ‘Good girl, Sam. That’s fantastic. Now, I’m going to hold your hand—just gently. Can you feel me touching your fingers?’ Felicity noted the temperature and colour of Samantha’s hand as she responded affirmatively. ‘OK, see if you can squeeze my fingers.’

Felicity compared the responses with Samantha’s uninjured limb. She could still feel Joe’s stare. She checked the radial pulses on both wrists before glancing up. ‘No neurological or circulatory deficit. That’s good.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘I hadn’t done the necessary examination.’ Felicity gave in to the temptation to be deliberately obtuse.

‘I meant, why didn’t you tell me that you were a doctor?’

‘I’ve only been in here a few minutes.’

‘I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about last week.’ Joe Petersen’s tone suggested he was unamused by this verbal sparring.

Felicity shrugged as though it was a matter of little importance. ‘I don’t remember having the opportunity,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You had the situation well controlled—and, anyway,’ she added mischievously, ‘stabilising the head and neck of a spinal injury patient is a pretty useful thing to do.’ She turned back to Samantha.

‘We’re going to get a special picture taken of your arm,’ she told the child. ‘An X-ray. It looks at the inside of your arm. Do you know what there is inside there?’

Samantha shook her head. The fearful look returned to the large, brown eyes.

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Felicity reassured her. ‘An X-ray doesn’t hurt. It’s just a special camera that can see what we can’t see. Bones. They’re the hard bits inside your arms and legs.’ She was debating whether the trauma of inserting an IV line to give some narcotic pain relief was justified, given how easily Samantha could be distracted from her injury. She still looked ready to cry again so Felicity decided to test the distraction level once more.

‘Does your dog have a name?’

‘Snowy.’ The firm response came from Joe.

Felicity saw the expression on Samantha’s face and sighed inwardly. The little girl might be distracted from the pain but upsetting her wasn’t going to help. Maybe she needed to push a little harder and find out what was going on in this relationship. The vibes she was getting were making her distinctly uneasy now.

‘He looks pretty special,’ she told Samantha quietly. ‘Is his name really Snowy?’

Samantha shook her head slowly and dislodged another tear. Then another. ‘His name’s not Snowy,’ she sobbed. ‘His name is Woof Woof Snowball.’

Felicity bit her lip. Her peripheral vision caught the wince on Joe’s face and it was extremely hard not to laugh aloud. The neurosurgeon was acutely embarrassed by the childish name for the toy.

‘‘‘Woof Woof Snowball’’,’ Felicity repeated with some relish. ‘That’s a great name.’ She peered more closely at the toy. ‘He’s a rather grubby snowball right now, though. Did he fall out of the swing, too?’

Samantha nodded.

‘Did he hurt himself, do you think?’

The head shook this time. The tears were gone again and Samantha tried to smile. ‘I think he just got dirty.’

‘Maybe he needs a bath.’

‘I’m not allowed to have squashy toys in the bath. Mum says they take too long to dry.’

‘Ah.’ Felicity digested the information offhandedly as she began to record her medical observations on Samantha’s chart. So there was a mother. Joe’s wife, presumably. Maybe there were brothers and sisters as well. A whole family, in fact, including some cute, fluffy dog. ‘Have you got a real dog at home, too, Sam?’

‘No. Mum doesn’t like dogs.’

‘Oh.’ Felicity continued her rapid note-taking. ‘Does Daddy like dogs?’

‘I don’t know.’

Felicity’s glance was too automatic and too quick to hide her astonishment. How could Samantha not know whether her father liked dogs? Joe was frowning.

‘Of course I like dogs, Sam.’

Felicity tried to dismiss the notions that flitted through her head as she charted some oral analgesics for Samantha and filled in a requisition form for an X-ray. She needed a bit of time to think about this one. Standing up, she smiled brightly at Samantha.

‘I like dogs, too,’ she told her. ‘In fact, I’ve got a real dog. He’s an Irish setter called Rusty.’ Her smile widened. ‘Maybe I should have called him ‘‘Woof Woof Rusty’’.’

Samantha giggled. It was a delightful chortle that prompted Felicity to reach out and gently ruffle the child’s curls. ‘Rusty is a lovely dark auburn colour,’ she continued. ‘But he has long hair on his tail which is much lighter. On the ends it’s exactly the same colour as your hair.’

Samantha looked delighted with the information. ‘Sometimes Daddy calls me Nas—Nas...’ She struggled with the word. ‘Nastagmus,’ she managed triumphantly. ‘He says that’s what my hair reminds him of.’

‘Really?’ A nystagmus was a word used to refer to an abnormal and rapid type of involuntary eye movement. She caught Joe’s gaze and a lopsided smile appeared on his face.

‘She means ‘‘nasturtium’’.’

‘Oh!’ Felicity grinned. She loved the amusing verbal errors children often made, though she was usually careful not to show her amusement in front of them. It was difficult to hide her delight at present, however, and Felicity knew quite well that Samantha’s mistake had only provided part of the pleasure she was experiencing.

That lopsided twist of his lips was the first time she had seen anything like a smile on Joe’s face, and its effect was dramatic. His features softened and crinkles appeared around his eyes. The dark brown eyes were exactly the same colour as Samantha’s. In fact, Samantha looked very much like her father, and while their relationship was oddly formal for a parent and child there was really no doubt about their genetic bond.

Maybe there wasn’t anything too odd about their interaction either. Samantha’s face lit up at the sight of her father’s smile and the look that passed between the pair suggested a genuine closeness. Warmth, even. Felicity had the fleeting and rather disturbing thought that she would like just such a look directed at her from this man.

She excused herself hurriedly. She had no time to ponder the intricacies of this particular family’s relationships with each other and she certainly didn’t want to be distracted by any peculiar reactions to Joe. There were other patients waiting to be seen.

The potential heart-attack patient from out of town had arrived in the department. Felicity accompanied the man during his rapid transfer to a resus area. Geoffrey Pinnington was a forty-year-old farmer from a rural area well north of the city.

‘I’d been feeling a few niggles all morning,’ he told Felicity in response to her first query. ‘I thought I must have pulled a muscle, heaving hay bales around. I’d just finished my lunch when I started feeling really terrible. I went all sweaty and lost my lunch and this awful pain started up.’

‘Where was the pain?’

‘Right here.’ Geoffrey slapped a hand on the centre of his chest. The nurse attending to the 12-lead ECG hastily reattached a dislodged electrode.

‘Try and keep still for a moment, please, Mr Pinnington,’ the nurse requested.

‘Was the pain just in the one spot?’ Felicity asked.

‘No. It went into my neck and then all the way down my left arm.’

‘Given a scale of zero to ten, with zero being no pain and ten being the worst you could imagine, what score would you have given it?’

‘Twelve.’ Geoffrey smiled wryly. ‘I’ve never felt so bad in my life. I really thought I was about to die.’

Felicity nodded sympathetically. A feeling of impending doom was a common symptom of a heart attack. ‘What time did the pain come on?’

‘One o’clock or thereabouts. Maybe a quarter past.’

‘OK.’ Felicity glanced at her watch. Nearly three hours ago. They were still well within the therapeutic window for an angioplasty procedure which could abort the damage being caused by the lack of coronary blood flow.

‘Give Cardiology a call,’ she directed the registrar beside her. Felicity picked up the ECG trace and scanned it rapidly. The changes were abnormal and clear-cut. ‘Tell them we have a probable anterior infarct in progress here.’ She turned to the junior doctor who was drawing blood from the IV line already in Geoffrey’s arm. ‘We need cardiac enzymes, CBC, electrolytes and lipids done, Sarah.’ Her attention returned to her patient. ‘How’s the pain at the moment?’

‘Not too bad. The stuff the GP gave me was good.’

Felicity nodded. She’d read the ambulance patient report form as she’d walked into the resuscitation area. After a half-hour drive to the local doctor, Geoffrey had been given treatment consisting of oxygen, pain relief, an anti-nausea agent, aspirin and GTN. The GP had then called for an ambulance for urgent transfer to hospital. All the right things had been done and the GP’s note included baseline measurements and a brief medical history that didn’t indicate any risk factors for heart disease. But Felicity wanted to double-check.

‘So you’ve never had any problems with your heart before this, Geoffrey?’

‘No.’

‘No other medical conditions you’re treated for?’

‘No, nothing.’

‘Blood pressure’s always been OK?’

‘As far as I know.’

‘Have you ever had your cholesterol levels checked?’

Geoffrey nodded. ‘Always been fine. I’m fit and healthy, Doctor, and I’m far too young to be having a heart attack, aren’t I?’

‘Unfortunately there are always exceptions to the general rules. Is there any history of heart disease in your family?’

‘My dad gets chest pain sometimes, I reckon. He’s one of the old school and wouldn’t admit to it, but I’ve seen him rubbing his chest and looking a bit grey sometimes.’

‘Do you smoke?’

‘Used to. I knocked it on the head a couple of years ago.’

‘Good for you.’ Felicity had enough information to transfer this patient directly to Cardiology. Baseline measurements and recordings had all been completed by the team in the resus area. When the curtain was drawn back behind her she expected the new arrival to be the cardiology registrar. Instead, it was a woman with two young children beside her.

‘Sorry, Geoff. I couldn’t drive as fast as the ambulance. How are you feeling?’

‘Not too bad, love. Don’t worry.’ Geoffrey smiled at his wife. He winked at his son who was about ten years old but the boy was staring, wide-eyed, at the screens of the monitoring equipment. The younger child, a girl, was clutching her mother’s hand, staring at her father and crying quietly.

‘It’s OK, chicken,’ Geoffrey said gently. ‘Dad’s going to be just fine.’ He held out the arm that wasn’t encumbered by IV tubing and the girl ducked behind a nurse and rushed into the inviting circle, burying her face against her father’s chest. Mrs Pinnington also moved closer and laid her hand on Geoffrey’s leg. Felicity watched as the family drew themselves into a unit again, preparing to cope with whatever was coming next. She answered the querying look Geoffrey’s wife was directing towards her.

‘It looks as though Geoffrey may be having a heart attack,’ Felicity explained. ‘There’s a cardiologist on the way to see him now and they’ll decide what the best course of treatment will be. You’ve done exactly the right thing in getting Geoffrey to the doctor and into hospital as quickly as possible. That means the treatment has much more chance of being successful and that any damage that is occurring can be minimised.’

The cardiology registrar arrived while Felicity was talking. She took over the management of the patient but Felicity stayed in the resus area, listening and watching, for a few minutes. The registrar assimilated the available information quickly. She explained the mechanics of the life-threatening condition Geoffrey was experiencing and outlined the treatment options. Felicity watched as he listened carefully. His daughter was still tucked within his arm and he was stroking her hair. Blonde, straight hair. Not at all like Samantha Petersen’s.

Given the choice between drug therapy and the more invasive but faster and probably more effective procedure of angioplasty, the Pinningtons had no difficulty making a choice, and the staff prepared to move Geoffrey upstairs to the catheter laboratory. It was time for Felicity to move as well. With no urgent cases awaiting her attention, she collected a cup of cold water and stood observing the department for a minute from her position beside the water dispenser. She wasn’t really registering the activity in the department, however. She was still thinking about Geoffrey and his daughter. Or, more specifically, the interaction between them and the contrast it had presented to the way Joe and Samantha had appeared. That easy affection and physical closeness had been non-existent.

Sometimes the frightening environment of an emergency department made people act differently to what they might have done normally, but Joe was a surgeon. He should have been as much at home here as anywhere, and more capable of reassuring his daughter than most people. On reflection, it was hard to believe that the pair were father and daughter. The atmosphere of awkwardness was more like that of a relative or care-giver being thrown into dealing with an unfortunate and unexpected incident. A care-giver who only had limited contact with children, perhaps.

Felicity crumpled the polystyrene cup and threw it away. Maybe Joe was just a father who couldn’t be bothered and left the upbringing of his children entirely to his wife. Or maybe he had been missing an important appointment because of the accident. What did it matter anyway? It was really none of her business. Instinct had already told her that the unusual atmosphere was highly unlikely to be due to some dysfunctional or abusive relationship that needed further investigation so Felicity was slightly annoyed at her continuing level of interest.

No distractions were immediately available in the department.

‘I’ll be in my office,’ she told Mike. ‘I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Beep me if you need me.’

The left turn at the doors into the main part of the hospital took Felicity past the store cupboards, the sluice room and the relatives’ room on her right. The bed coming from the observation ward on the other side of the corridor slowed her decisive walk for only a few moments, but it was long enough to recognise the voices coming from the area set aside for relatives. One of the voices, at least.

* * *

‘For God’s sake, Joe. I just can’t understand how it could have happened!’

Joe had had almost enough. The day had already been a disaster and Dayna was just making things worse.

‘I told you, Dayna. It was an accident. She missed her footing when she jumped off the swing. She fell over. Accidents happen.’

‘I would have thought you could manage a simple trip to the park without some sort of disaster.’ Dayna’s tone was scathing. ‘This is just typical of you, Joe. How bad is it?’

Joe sighed. It was typical. Dayna expected any time he spent with Samantha to cause problems and no matter how hard he tried her expectation always seemed to be justified. Usually it was something minor like stained clothing from a spilled drink or a damaged toy—things that Dayna could have ignored easily enough if she chose to. He had to concede that a broken arm wasn’t something to dismiss lightly.

‘It’s a greenstick fracture.’

‘What on earth is that?’

‘It’s where the bone doesn’t break completely. One side breaks and the other side gets bent. It happens commonly with children.’ Joe frowned. ‘For heaven’s sake, Dayna. It’s exactly what Scott did to his arm a couple of years ago.’

‘He’s a boy.’ Dayna clearly dismissed the reference to her older son’s injury as unimportant. ‘Where is Samantha, Joe? I hope you haven’t left her sitting somewhere by herself.’

‘Of course I haven’t. She has a nurse with her.’

‘Well, I want to see her. Now.’

‘Of course.’ Joe stood back to let his sister-in-law exit the small room first. He followed, edging past the bed being manoeuvred awkwardly in the corridor outside. Another sigh escaped him. Just how much of Dayna’s rather heated conversation had been overheard by Dr Felicity Munroe? And why was she standing there at this particular moment anyway?

Joe led Dayna towards the emergency department. He was still appalled at having discovered Felicity’s qualifications and position. The fleeting memories of things he had said to her on the building site had made him cringe inwardly. Fancy suggesting that a consultant in emergency medicine might not know what she was doing and cause further damage. Or suggesting that if she wanted to be useful she could hold the head still. Of course, she could have told him she was a doctor but Joe had a sneaking suspicion that she had been right in saying she hadn’t been given much of an opportunity. The scene had reminded him too strongly of Catherine’s accident and the ghastly aftermath of a mismanaged spinal injury. He hadn’t been about to allow anyone to interfere with what he knew to be expert leadership.

Joe pulled back the curtain to cubicle 3. If only he hadn’t compounded the error by assuming that Felicity Munroe was a nurse when she’d arrived to look after Samantha. If he hadn’t been so worried about his daughter he might have noticed that she hadn’t been wearing a uniform. He might have taken the trouble to read the identity badge pinned to the waistband of her skirt.

‘Hello, Mum.’ Samantha was smiling. ‘Look at my arm plaster. It’s pink!’

‘Very pretty.’ The nurse beside the bed stepped back as Dayna leaned over to kiss Samantha. ‘Does it hurt a lot, darling?’

‘Not any more. I had some medicine. I’m hungry now.’

Joe smiled at Samantha. She was looking a lot happier. All that he needed now was some more time with her and he could probably wipe out the unpleasant aspects of their outing. ‘Maybe we could go out for a hamburger.’

‘No,’ Dayna said firmly. ‘It’s time to go home.’

Samantha looked disappointed enough to prompt Joe to try again. ‘I could drop Sam home a bit later.’

‘I’ve come into the hospital now, Joe. I’ve left the boys with Nigel and he’s busy at work. We’ve got grocery shopping to do and Scott’s due at his piano lesson at 4:30. I haven’t got time to chop and change arrangements. I’ll take Samantha home with me now.’

Joe gave in. It wasn’t worth the stress of trying to talk Dayna out of a decision. Not this time anyway, when Samantha was probably tired. He watched Dayna help his daughter off the bed.

‘Mum?’

Dayna was folding up Samantha’s cardigan, which had been abandoned on the end of the bed. She didn’t appear to have heard.

‘Mum?’

Joe gritted his teeth at the repetition. Dayna wasn’t Samantha’s mother. She was her aunt. Samantha had started calling her ‘Mum’ because of the example set by Dayna’s two sons. And Dayna certainly hadn’t discouraged her.

‘Mum?’ Samantha was trying again. ‘Can I give Woof Woof Snowball a bath with me tonight? He’s really dirty.’

‘He can go in the washing machine.’ Dayna turned her attention to the nurse who required a signature on the discharge papers. Joe bent down towards his daughter and spoke quietly.

‘When you come and stay with me you can give Woof Woof Snowball a real bath.’

Samantha’s grin at the private suggestion was worth a lot. The one-armed hug was worth even more, despite the obstacle the soft toy presented. It almost restored the pleasure Joe had anticipated from the afternoon’s outing. He could watch Dayna lead Samantha briskly away without the usual heartache. He even found himself smiling. Using that awful name for the toy hadn’t been that difficult at all. Maybe he just needed to relax. He just hadn’t had enough time with his daughter and that wasn’t entirely his fault.

He could learn. Look at how easily Felicity had established such an easy rapport with his child. Instead of being resentful at the way she’d effortlessly gained what he was having such difficulty achieving, he should follow her example. He could be relaxed and confident like that. And friendly. Felicity was obviously a friendly person, good with children, and she clearly knew what she was doing if she was a consultant emergency physician. She looked far too young for the position. She couldn’t be much over thirty, surely?

It seemed, by now, typical that Joe should encounter Felicity as he left the emergency department. This woman had a knack of appearing when least expected. He paused and directed a smile at her.

‘Thanks very much for your help, Dr Munroe.’

‘A pleasure, Mr Petersen.’

The formality was ridiculous. It made them both smile.

‘The name’s Joe.’

‘And mine’s Fliss.’

They both held their hands out simultaneously. The shake was brief but firm. Not so brief that Joe didn’t notice that Felicity wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, however. His mind was turning rapidly. No, she couldn’t be much over thirty and she really was an incredibly attractive woman. Those large hazel eyes were rather difficult to look away from. They weren’t looking as friendly as they had when Samantha had been around but that was hardly surprising.

‘I’d like to apologise,’ he found himself saying hurriedly.

‘What for?’ Felicity’s tone was cool. Disinterested, perhaps?

What for, indeed. There was too much to choose from. Joe had insulted her on more than one occasion already by making erroneous assumptions about her qualifications. He’d also displayed his lack of confident parenting in an embarrassing manner. He should have known better than to answer Samantha’s questions for her. Or upset her about the dog’s name. Felicity probably thought he was an idiot. A rude idiot, at that.

‘Our acquaintance didn’t get off to the best start. I’m sorry I didn’t enlist your expertise at that accident scene.’

‘You didn’t know I had any.’ Felicity dismissed the apology.

‘I wasn’t much of a help with Samantha today either.’

‘It’s often harder to cope with one’s own family than patients.’

‘The thing is, I...’ Joe hesitated. The only hope he had of repairing this woman’s opinion of him would require her to have at least some understanding of the complicated background his actions sprang from. However, any explanation of the reasons for his behaviour on the two occasions they’d met was likely to be time-consuming, and Felicity was looking past Joe’s shoulder at present as though she wanted to escape. ‘I’d just like a chance to explain,’ Joe finished. ‘An opportunity to redeem myself, perhaps.’

‘There’s absolutely no need.’

‘Maybe a coffee?’ Joe couldn’t quite accept the brush-off. He didn’t want to be brushed off. ‘When you have the time, that is.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Felicity’s smile was polite. ‘But thanks for the invitation. Nice meeting you again, Joe.’

Joe watched Felicity walk into the emergency department and kicked himself mentally. Surely he could have handled that a bit better. He had really wanted that coffee. It would have provided the opportunity to spend time with the young consultant and gain more than the initial impression he was being left with. It was an impression he was not going to forget in a hurry. One that he would very much have liked to have built on.

Not that he was going to get the chance. Felicity had spelt that out fairly convincingly. Of course, there was always that appointment Joe had tomorrow. If that interview was successful it was just possible he might get another opportunity to persuade Felicity that he was worth spending some time with. He hadn’t been all that bothered about whether it was going to be successful because he hadn’t been sure it was what he really wanted. Now Joe was quite sure it was what he wanted.

He wanted it rather a lot.