Читать книгу More Than Time - Caroline Anderson - Страница 5

LIZZI had forgotten about her bump in the car park. By the time she got back to her car at the end of the day, the relentless routine of the busy surgical unit had driven everything else out of her mind. Now, though, she was reminded that there could be a nasty confrontation ahead later that night, and she sighed.

The confrontation wouldn’t be improved, she realised, by the fact that the offending car had also been wheel-clamped by the ground staff. She was surprised that it was still here. She was torn between smug self-satisfaction and pity, but her urge to take the note off the windscreen was snookered by the fact that it was already missing.

Perhaps the owner had been back already and was now trying to find a porter to release the wheel-clamp? Anxious to avoid a physical battle with the seething driver, Lizzi made her escape and drove home.

The bungalow was silent, with the sort of silence that meant emptiness. Her mother was out—Lizzi remembered that it was her watercolour class that afternoon, and she always went back to her friend’s house for the evening afterwards. Lizzi would be alone all evening, and in her present mood it was probably for the best.

She felt restless, disorientated and unaccountably depressed. No, not unaccountably, she thought bitterly. Michael Holden, the irresponsible young drunk driver, was largely to blame. Did Ross really believe she thought he had got his just deserts? Was she really so hard? Or just too vulnerable? It didn’t matter. There was nothing she could do to change things.

Lizzi went along to her bedroom and undressed, pulling on clean jeans and a soft sweater the same colour as her eyes. As she sat at the dressing-table to brush out her hair, her eyes strayed to the photo in the silver frame propped up beside the mirror.

A young man with laughing eyes looked out at her, his carefree smile showing a row of even white teeth. One of the top ones was chipped slightly—Lizzi remembered how he had come back from a rugby match with a swollen lip and she had chided him gently while she put ice on it.

Suddenly her eyes filled and she picked up the photo and held it to her chest as the tears spilt down her cheeks.

‘Why did you leave me? I’m lonely now,’ she whispered. She bit her lip and fought down the sobs. ‘They call me the Ice Maiden, David. But I’m not really, am I? Why can’t they just leave me alone?’

She rested her cheek against the cold glass, and gradually the tears slowed and stopped.

She put the picture back, rubbing the tearstains off the glass with her sleeve as she did so, then she blew her nose, wiped her eyes and went into the kitchen to cook herself something light for supper.

There was nothing on television, and the book she picked up couldn’t hold her attention. She lit the gas fire to ward off the chill, and curled up on the settee with her feet tucked under her bottom. She felt cold inside, filled with a sort of dread that she couldn’t place. Was it because she was waiting for the phone call from the irate driver of the Daimler, or was it because tomorrow she had to go back and face Ross and Oliver after her fit of temper? However justified, her harsh words didn’t make for a happy ward.

With a deep sigh she wriggled further down the settee, propping her chin on her hand and staring into the hissing fire. Her mother wouldn’t be back for hours, and she really couldn’t justify going to bed at six-thirty!

Anyway, when her mother got back she would need help to prepare for bed, so there was no point.

Suddenly Lizzi realised just how blank and empty her life was. The reason she never talked about it at work was that there genuinely was nothing to talk about. By not talking about it, she was hiding that nothingness—from herself as well as her colleagues. True, she had her mother, and she was needed in her way, but all the normal things that people of her age took for granted were missing from her life. Her time was reasonably full, but her heart was empty. No man, no social life, no children—angrily she dashed aside the tears and stood up. No point in sitting moping.

She got out the vacuum cleaner and started attacking the carpets—anything rather than allow the wallowing self-pity that had been creeping up on her.

When she turned off the vacuum cleaner she realised that the phone was ringing, and she snatched it up just as the caller hung up.

Damn. Now the waiting would start all over again.

She put the vacuum cleaner away and dropped disconsolately back on to the settee. Forcing herself to submit to discipline, she picked up her book again and made herself read four pages before she went out to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

The ringing phone held her transfixed for a second or two, and then she lifted the receiver and gave the number automatically.

‘Lizzi? It’s Ross Hamilton.’

‘Ross!’ She was startled, her surprise showing in her voice. What on earth did he want? And another, more pressing question presented itself. ‘How did you get my number?’

He laughed, a low, mirthless chuckle. ‘Easy. You left it on my windscreen.’

She must be mad, she thought for the thousandth time. Surely they could have found a time and a place at the hospital to discuss this? Why had she suggested that he should come here? What if her mother came home early? She would never let Lizzi forget it! Oh, God!

She stomped around, bashing cushions and straightening pictures, tidying the already immaculately tidy bungalow until the doorbell rang, almost savage in the silence.

She practically leapt out of her skin, and then had to pause and steady herself before going to the door.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and smoothed them over her hair. Why was it so unruly? And why was she so thoroughly unsettled and agitated?

When she opened the door, Ross was standing in the porch, his hands thrust into the pockets of his duffle coat, a white sweater in stark contrast to the tanned skin of his throat. He looked disturbingly male, and Lizzi panicked into overdrive.

‘Come in. Ross, I’m sorry, the note was unnecessary, I wanted to take it off the windscreen but it was gone when I came out. Let me take your coat. Can I get you a drink? What would you like, tea or coffee, or something stronger? Come on through.’ God preserve me, I’m babbling like an imbecile! she thought, and bit her lips.

‘Lizzi.’ His voice behind her was full of quiet authority, and she stopped, her head bowed, and waited for the axe to fall. ‘Relax. I’m not angry with you.’

She spun round, her eyes wide with amazement. ‘But your lovely car——!’

He shrugged. ‘It can be mended—though how you managed to wreck all four panels on that side is a mystery to me. I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose, so we’ll just hand it over to the insurance companies and let them fight it out.’

‘How can you be so calm? I realised after I’d spoken to you—Oliver said something earlier—it’s brand new, isn’t it? You must be livid!’

He chuckled. ‘I vented most of my spleen in the porters’ lodge!’

‘Of course—your wheelclamp!’ Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the grin, but he saw it and glowered at her.

‘Gloating, Lizzi?’

She moved away from him, her amusement gone. ‘No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—it was just the irony—Ross, I——’

‘Lizzi?’ His voice was deep, gentle. He cupped her shoulders in his hands and drew her nearer towards him. ‘I was only teasing. Don’t be afraid of me.’

She looked up and met his eyes, then looked away again. ‘I’m not,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m just not used to inviting men back to my house. It threw me for a minute.’

She could feel his eyes on her, studying her thoughtfully.

‘Would you rather we did this another time? Perhaps at the hospital?’

‘That would be silly,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, you’re here now.’

‘It needn’t take long, then I’ll go, if I’m making you uncomfortable. Is it because of this morning?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I’m sorry about that, too. I haven’t really given you a very warm welcome to the hospital, what with one thing and another.’

He laughed. ‘At least it’s going to be memorable!’

She tried to smile, but failed. ‘We haven’t really got off to a good start, have we?’

‘No. No, we haven’t, and at least part of that is my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Oliver——’

‘Then why did you?’ Her question was short, harsher than she had intended, but his reply was quiet, sincere, softly voiced.

‘Because I wanted to know about you. You seem so aloof, but I know you’re not. No one who can blush like you did is aloof—far less an ice maiden.’

She blushed again under his gently teasing regard, and eased out of his grip. ‘I’m not available, Ross. Not for—what was it Oliver called it? Recreational sex?’

He laughed softly. ‘He didn’t imply that you were—or that I was seriously in the market for anything so tasteless.’

Lizzi felt unaccountably relieved. ‘Was she?’

He frowned. ‘Was who what?’

‘The girl who was all over you like a rash—was she in the market for it?’

His face cleared, and his mouth lifted in the now familiar lop-sided smile. ‘I didn’t even notice, to be honest. Sorry to disappoint you.’

Her relief escalated to full-blooded optimism, and she treated him to a broad smile that lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle.

Oh, I’m not disappointed,’ she assured him.

Ross’s smile widened. ‘Good. How about that coffee before we sort out this paperwork?’

Lizzi’s face dropped. She had forgotten why he was here, and she was carrying on like a lovesick teenager!

She led him into the kitchen and they made coffee and then, sitting at the kitchen table, exchanged information about the accident, both making all the necessary notes for the claim form.

Then when all the business was completed he pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘I’ll get out of your hair now.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to go! Have another coffee or something—I didn’t even ask if you’d eaten!’

He grinned. ‘I have, thank you, but if it won’t offend you I’ll take a rain check on the coffee. I’m dying to get to bed. Sunday morning seems a long time ago.’

Filled with remorse, Lizzi retreated into herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘I’d forgotten you’d had such a dreadful night. Of course you must be exhausted. I don’t know what I was thinking about asking you to come here this evening.’

‘I’ll survive. Anyway, it was a good excuse to see where you live—another piece of the jigsaw that’s Lizzi Lovejoy. I intend to unravel you, you know!’

She followed him numbly to the door. She was feeling distinctly unravelled already!

He shrugged into his duffle coat and opened the door, then he turned and dropped a light kiss on her lips just as a car swept into the drive.

He raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

‘My mother,’ Lizzi explained, wondering how she would ever get away with that innocent kiss—not that it had felt innocent. Her lips were still tingling from the explosion of sensation that had occurred as his lips brushed hers, and she felt rocked off her feet. She just hoped her mother hadn’t seen, because she didn’t feel up to the lengthy evasions that would be necessary. In fact, she rather hoped he would go, but of course he couldn’t because his car was blocked in and she was stuck with him at least until her mother was over the threshold!

Td like to meet her,’ Ross murmured.

‘Good, because there’s no way we can avoid it,’ Lizzi muttered under her breath.

He had acute hearing, if the chuckle that came from him was to be relied on.

She glanced at him. Six foot three, and fit as a fiddle, even if he was tired.

‘Come on, then,’ she said, ‘you can make yourself useful getting her out of the car. She’s disabled.’

Ross walked with her to the car, where Lizzi performed the briefest of introductions, and Ross lifted her mother easily out into her wheelchair.

‘Don’t forget to think about it, Mary!’ the driver called.

Lizzi’s mother smiled mischievously. Oh, I will, dear. Good night, and thank you so much.’

They watched the car out of the drive, then Ross wheeled the chair easily to the door and over the slight step.

Thank you, dear,’ she said as the front door closed behind them again. ‘Now, who did you say you were?’

‘Ross Hamilton—I’m working with Lizzi at the hospital. I started today.’

‘How nice. I thought I hadn’t heard your name. Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Dr Hamilton.’

‘Mr, Mum. He’s a surgeon.’

‘How silly that is. Fancy going to all that trouble just to deny your qualifications!’

Ross laughed. ‘I quite agree, Mrs Lovejoy.’

There was sudden silence, then Lizzi’s mother looked at him quizzically. ‘I’m Mary Reed, actually. Lovejoy was Lizzi’s married name. It used to suit her, too.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, well, all water under the bridge. Stop glaring at me, darling. Why are we all congregating in the hall?’

‘Ross was just leaving. He had a busy night in Theatre.’

‘What a pity. Still, it’s lovely to meet you, Ross. I hope we’ll be seeing you again?’

‘I hope so too, Mrs Reed,’ Ross said with his lopsided smile.

‘It’s so nice that you and Lizzi have made friends so soon——’

‘This isn’t a social call, Mum,’ Lizzi cut in, her embarrassment running at full strength. ‘I hit his car this morning in the car park—we were just sorting out the insurance details.’

‘Oh, dear! What a shame—is it that very nice car on the drive?’

‘Yes—and it’s extremely new,’ Lizzi commented drily. ‘In fact, I couldn’t have targeted a worse thing to hit.’

He chuckled. ‘Let’s say your daughter’s car has unerring good taste, Mrs Reed.’ Lizzi opened the door, and he bade Mrs Reed goodnight and followed her squirming daughter out.

‘Well, Mrs Lovejoy,’ Ross murmured, ‘another piece in the puzzle. Will you tell me, or do I have to guess?’

‘I’m a widow,’ she said quietly.

‘And your husband was killed by a drunk driver.’

She gasped. ‘How did you know?’

His smile was full of compassion. ‘I didn’t, but it doesn’t take a great deal of intuition to guess. Was it long ago?’

‘Seven years.’

‘That’s when I got divorced. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and sometimes it seems forever. I expect you feel the same.’

‘You can hardly compare the two,’ she said stiffly.

‘Why?’

‘I hardly think that the grief of bereavement ranks in the same league as walking out on your wife.’

He snorted. ‘You’re prejudging me, Lizzi. My wife walked out on me, and took my two sons, aged six and four. I grieved, all right. I’ll grant you it’s not the same, but it’s pretty damn traumatic, nevertheless.’

But Lizzi was cornered, and she wasn’t in the mood to be conciliatory. ‘At least you know she’s still alive, walking around in the world. If you loved her, that would be enough—anyway, there’s no smoke,’ she muttered, and Ross sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

Oh, yes, I know she’s alive—alive and well and in another man’s bed. That takes some getting used to, Lizzi. I dare say I was at fault too, but no more than any other junior hospital doctor struggling to establish a career. At least your husband left you reluctantly, without destroying your belief in yourself as a lovable human being! Hell, I’m too tired for this. We’ll argue about it another time. Thank you for the coffee.’

With that he was gone, and she let herself back inside. Her legs were trembling slightly, and she felt shaken and upset.

It wasn’t improved by finding her mother waiting for her in the kitchen.

Lizzi sighed. Here we go, she thought. She wasn’t wrong.

‘What a charming man, Lizzi. He doesn’t seem the least bit cross with you.’

She snorted. ‘He is now.’

‘Oh, Lizzi, how have you upset him?’

‘He was prying about David. It serves him right.’

Her mother sighed. ‘I don’t know how you expect to find another man if you——’

‘I don’t want another man! I’m quite happy the way I am! Nobody suggests you should rush out and find yourself another husband, so why should I?’

‘Because, my dear, you’re twenty-nine years old and I am fifty-four. I’ve had my family, I’m confined to a wheelchair and I have very little to offer. You, on the other hand, are young, beautiful, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You need a partner, Lizzi. You aren’t whole any more. You need the love of a good man to make you complete.’

Her heart gave a sudden thump. ‘You have an overactive imagination, Mum,’ Lizzi said, and changed the subject firmly. ‘What was it Jean told you to think about?’

‘Oh, nothing much,’ her mother replied airily, waving her slender hand. ‘Just a little trip we thought we might take—and don’t change the subject. We were talking abut Ross.’

‘No, we weren’t! You were trying to marry me off!’

‘Quite! Now, about Ross——’

‘No, Mother!’ Lizzi said firmly, and changed the subject again.

However, later that night, lying restlessly in bed, she raised her fingers to her lips and touched them lightly. How odd, she thought, that they should still tingle. An image of Ross sprang to mind, and a wave of heat washed over her body. Was her mother right? Did she need a man’s love? Then the heat drained away, insignificant in the aching emptiness. She’d had that love once, and lost it. Did she dare try again?

She thought again of Ross’s words. Did he really think he was unlovable? That was crazy. He was warm, generous, funny, professionally extremely competent and thorough, quick to anger but even quicker to forgive, as she had found out. All that, coupled with his striking good looks and lazy sensuality—no woman in her right mind could fail to love him, Lizzi thought, and then the heat washed over her again, leaving her trembling with fear and anticipation—and surprise.

Surely not? No! She couldn’t fall for him—she wouldn’t allow it! To expose herself to that terrible agony of loss all over again—no, it was out of the question. Anyway, it was probably just hormones. She would ignore him, she decided, and he would give up.

But what if he didn’t? What if he persisted in unravelling her, as he had put it? What would she do then? What she had done in the past—freeze him out. They gave up quickly, usually. Men hated rejection; it was bad for the ego. She didn’t want to hurt Ross, and for that reason it would be best to act immediately, before he felt he had a hope. Her mind made up, she turned over, punched the pillow into shape and fell instantly asleep.

It was another busy morning. Jennifer Adams had had a restless night and was in pain, and Oliver came up to see her and adjust her drugs.

‘Ross was in a towering paddy last night, by the way,’ he commented. ‘Seems someone wrapped his new car in the car park yesterday.’

Lizzi blushed, and he eyed her speculatively. ‘Was it you?’ She nodded, and he cleared his throat. She thought it sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. ‘Have you seen him yet?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have, we sorted it out last night, but I’d be grateful if you didn’t spread it around.’

Trust me,’ he said with a wicked twinkle, and left the ward for Outpatients. As she turned round, Lizzi almost fell over Dan Haig, the houseman. He was smirking.

‘Haven’t you got anything to do?’ she snapped, and marched into her office.

Ross was thankfully absent, as it was his list that morning, and he was tucked away in Theatre, leaving her in peace.

At twelve Lucy Hallett came into the office and told her that Jennifer Adams wanted to talk to her. She made her way to the little side-ward, and perched on the edge of the chair beside the bed.

Jennifer was young, only twenty-three, and understandably frightened and unhappy. Her soft brown eyes were puzzled, and she was pale. She gripped Lizzi’s hand.

‘How’s Peter?’ she asked. ‘Nobody seems to know how he’s getting on. Someone told me he might be moved to Addenbrookes, but not why, and now I can’t seem to get any further information out of anyone. I have to know how he is!’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Lizzi answered honestly. ‘I’ll do my best to find out.’

‘Why would they take him to Addenbrookes? That’s where they take the head injuries, isn’t it?’

Lizzi remembered that Jennifer’s husband had been the one in ITU the previous morning, who was to have been moved as soon as he was stabilised enough. ‘That’s right. I understand he did have head injuries, which is why they were moving him, but I have no idea of the extent of the injuries, or even if he’s been transferred yet. I’ll find out for you. And don’t worry, you’ll soon be feeling better and then you’ll be able to see him.’

She left the room and went back to her office, troubled. Why hadn’t the consultants told Mrs Adams about her husband’s condition? She flicked through the Kardex, but there was no relèvent note on it. She phoned ITU, and the sister there told her that Mr Adams hadn’t been transferred.

Oh, good. He must be less severe than at first thought, then?’ Lizzi speculated.

‘Unfortunately not. He’s too fragile to move. He had a massive depressed fracture and they did a craniotomy, but his intra-cranial pressure’s risen and he’s leaking CSF from his nose. We’re ice-packing him now to induce hypothermia—that might reduce it, but he’s been on the life-support since they admitted him. They’re about to repeat the brain-stem test, but I think it’s just a formality. He’s got no reflexes and his pupils are fixed. I’ll keep you posted.’

Lizzi thanked her and hung up. It was worse, far worse than she had anticipated. She went back to Jennifer, put on a bright face and smiled.

‘He’s still here, and they’re running some more tests. I’ll let you know the results as soon as we have them.’

She went up to lunch, and poked a salad around her plate for ten minutes before giving up and taking her coffee into the lounge. Ross was there, slouched in a chair with his feet on a table, laughing with Oliver and his wife Bron. They looked up and waved her over to them. There was a cluster of people around the bulletin board, and as she walked across the room she noticed nudging and giggling aimed in her direction.

Her brow twitched into a puzzled frown. ‘What’s that all about?’ she asked.

‘I take it you haven’t seen it yet, then?’ Bron said, trying to hide her smile.

‘Seen what?’

Ross hauled himself up the chair and grinned. ‘The cartoon. Some wise guy’s decided to lampoon us.’

‘Us?’ she squeaked. ‘What us?’

‘You and me.’

‘I didn’t know we were an us!’

His mouth quirked. ‘Give me time,’ he murmured, so quietly that only she heard. She blushed instantly, and he smiled knowingly.

‘So,’ she repeated, ‘what us?’

‘Go and look,’ Oliver suggested, grinning.

Just then there was a shout of laughter from the vicinity of the board, and a tall black man wove his way between the tables and dropped into a chair beside Lizzi.

‘Hello, Dr Marumba. Seen something funny?’

‘Oh, Lizzi, it’s a classic! I love it! The Ice Maiden and the Abominable Snowman!’ He slapped his leg and rocked with laughter.

She glanced up at the board again. The crowd around it had faded away, and she just had to know—excusing herself, she stood up and crossed the room quickly.

There, in the middle of all the notices about job vacancies, training courses and voluntary aid programmes, was a cartoon showing her little car squaring up to Ross’s Daimler. Both cars were growling and pawing the ground, and Lizzi and Ross were standing on the top of the cars like charioteers, she looking aloof and victorious, he unmistakable with his shock of white hair, standing with his feet apart, brandishing a huge sword, challenging her.

The caption read,

Ice Maiden Targets The Abominable Snowman—does this herald a new ice-age? As the Yeti brings Arctic conditions with him, so Bizzi Lizzi tackles the invader. Has Sister Killjoy met her match, or is she in her element? Watch this space for further developments in the Cold War!

‘Good, isn’t it?’

Lizzi jumped, and turned to glare at him. ‘Good? Ross, are you out of your mind?’

‘Not at all. You have to learn to take a joke. I like the symbolism!’

‘Symbolism?’

‘Of the sword. Impressive, isn’t it?’

She blushed furiously as his meaning sank in. ‘Don’t be absurd!’

He grinned that infuriating lop-sided grin. ‘I’m rather flattered, actually.’

She ignored him and, snatching the cartoon down from the board, she walked away, her cheeks still touched with fire. Abandoning the remains of her coffee, she stalked back to the ward, incensed with rage, and marched into her office.

Lucy Hallett was just jotting down a note. ‘Oh, Sister, I’m glad you’re back. ITU just rang. They got the results of the brain-stem test on Mr Adams, and he’s been certified brain dead. He had a massive intracerebral haemorrhage, apparently, as well as the fractures. They’ve turned off the machine. The neurologist’s just coming up to tell his wife.’

Her anger drained away, leaving a huge void in its place. She stared sightlessly out of the window, remembering another time, another place, another young woman whose life had been shattered …

‘Sister? Are you all right?’

She turned back to Lucy, her eyes wide, and pulled herself together visibly. Thank you, Staff. I’ll deal with it. Perhaps you and Staff Nurse Tucker could do the drugs?’

Lucy nodded and left, and Lizzi sank down at the desk. Oh, God. Poor Jennifer. Most people would be able to distance themselves from the tragedy, and most of the time Lizzi could, but this case—these people, she corrected herself, were just too close to home. She felt cold, so cold, as if icy fingers were clutching at her heart.

When the neurologist tapped on her door and came in, he found her busy working at her desk, her face outwardly calm—at least, Lizzi hoped she looked calm. Inside she was a seething mass of dread, but she was used to putting on a front, and today was no different from many others.

She got up and went with him, and watched his gentle but systematic destruction of the young woman’s life with as much distance as she could manage.

When Jennifer started to cry, he stood by helplessly waiting for Lizzi to comfort her, and eventually she did, moving mechanically to cradle the young woman against her taut chest while she thought vainly of sea breezes and long walks in the country, how she would reconcile the following week’s duty rota with everyone wanting Easter off, and whether she needed to go to the supermarket on her way home. There was also the nagging question of her car. It would need to go into the garage at some point for inspection by the insurance company’s assessor, prior to being repaired—good, her tears were subsiding. Lizzi eased away from her, smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled.

‘I’ll get you a cup of tea, and I’ll find a nurse to come and sit with you.’

She stood up, led the neurologist out of the room and went back to her office.

‘Does she really need a cup of tea?’ the neurologist asked with a quirk to his eyebrows.

She shrugged. ‘Universal panacea. They don’t often want it, but drinking it gives them something to do. Did you want something?’

He shook his head, raised one eyebrow at her rather curt dismissal and left.

She wanted to scream, to sob and rage and throw herself down and weep for hours, but it was impossible. After she had detailed a nurse to take Mrs Adams a cup of tea and sit with her, she did the next best thing and took some junior nurses round the ward for a teaching session. She was unreasonably hard on them, and several times they exchanged glances of commiseration with each other, but they all stuck it out and came away wiser.

Lizzi went into her office and closed the door. ignoring their comments behind her back. They all knew she was in a grotty mood, but of course they thought it was because of the cartoon. It would never occur to them that the cool, detached Sister Killjoy could possibly feel any emotion because someone had done something as everyday as die!

She heard her door open and shut, but she didn’t lift her head.

‘Hiding?’

The voice was soft, Scots and full of teasing good humour. She put down her pen with a sigh.

‘No, Mr Hamilton, I’m not hiding. I’m working, unlike some people. If you want to kill time, perhaps you’d find somewhere else to do it!’

Her glare wiped the grin off his face, and he dropped into the chair opposite and steepled his fingers, then lifting his head he gave her a level look.

‘I have very good reasons for being here, Sister Lovejoy,’ he said, with just the barest of emphasis. ‘It may have slipped your attention that you have six patients on your ward who were on my list this morning, and who are now in your care, but it hasn’t slipped mine. I’ve come to see how they are, and I wondered if you would care to come round with me. That is,’ he said with a heavy layer of sarcasm, ‘if it isn’t too inconvenient!’

Lizzi blushed under the implied rebuke. ‘It is never inconvenient. You’re welcome to come and see your patients at any hour of the day or night. I’ve finished what I was doing, anyway.’ Ages ago, she thought, but pushed back her chair and stood up and joined him at the door.

As they went round she watched him, conferring with the nurses specialing the post-op patients and examining the patients themselves, asking how they were feeling and giving them details of the operations and how they went; Lizzi thought again what a good doctor he was. He had that easy blend of charm and sincerity that put people immediately at ease, and he was never patronising.