Читать книгу The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal - Margaret McDonagh - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

‘HOW did it go?’

The question greeted Luke the moment he stepped through the back doorway into his mother’s kitchen. ‘OK. Good.’ Two insufficient words to describe the events that had unfolded in the last few hours.

‘Did you see Francesca?’

‘Yes.’ Typical Ma, getting right to the heart of things. Luke smiled to himself, watching as she bustled around, switching on the kettle to make tea and taking a tray of her legendary, heavenly scented almond shortbread from the oven and tipping the slab out onto a rack. ‘We had a quick lunch in the hospital canteen.’

‘And?’ she persisted, turning to face him, eagerness and curiosity evident in green eyes that were a couple of shades duller than his own.

Luke pulled out a stool and sat at the breakfast bar, not at all sure how to put his thoughts and emotions into words. So he started with a simple fact. ‘Francesca’s even lovelier than you said.’

‘The promise was always there as a girl and she’s matured into a beautiful woman,’ his mother stated, cutting the cooling shortbread into slices.

‘That she has.’

His mother chuckled. ‘I thought you would notice! How did she take your news?’

‘There was no surprise that I’m a doctor—it seems that Francesca always believed in me,’ he confided, still moved by her faith in him. ‘Just like you.’

‘Even very young she had a fierce streak of loyalty towards you.’ She poured the tea, set a mug in front of him and then sat down, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her own drink. ‘What about the rest of it…you being back in Strathlochan and working at the hospital?’

‘That did surprise her.’

In fact, there had been a whole range of emotions in Francesca’s expressive grey eyes when she had learned of his return. The surprise had been obvious, followed by a flash of excitement, a wash of pleasure and then a hint of alarm that had alerted him to the task that lay ahead of him. Winning her completely in the way he wanted could not be taken for granted.

‘Does she know the reasons why you came back?’

‘Not all of them.’ He paused, succumbing to temptation and helping himself to a piece of still-warm shortbread that melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with buttery sweetness and the subtle flavour of almonds. ‘Francesca needs time, Ma. We both do. It’s been ten years. We need to get to know each other again.’

His mother nodded her agreement. Luke knew she had been aware what Francesca had meant to him all those years ago and how he had felt, especially when she had left town so unexpectedly and he’d not been able to find her. Now she regarded him, her expression curious. ‘But you felt it? When you saw her again?’

Oh, yeah, he’d felt it! Luke shook his head, remembering his instant reaction to her, a reaction that had intensified the longer he had spent with her, listening to her, being close to her. ‘It’s still there—for me. The question is whether Chessie can come to feel the same.’

‘There was always a special connection between you, not that either of you understood it then. You were too young. But I could see it, and I held out hope, sure that Francesca was the right girl for you,’ she admitted with a reminiscent smile. ‘Who knows what would have happened had events been different and you hadn’t been driven apart before your friendship had the opportunity to cement? It may have been too soon then, for both of you. Now you have a second chance.’ She laid a hand on his arm, her tone cautionary. ‘Take care, Luke. I know Francesca isn’t that shy sixteen-year-old any more but for all her feisty exterior and façade of self-confidence, I sense she has a lot of inner scars. Don’t forget her background.’

‘I won’t, Ma.’

Luke took the warning seriously. Having already recongised how spooked Francesca could become and how deeply her past was ingrained in her, he had no intention of rushing things. Their lunch together had passed all too quickly but even in the short time he had sat with her in the canteen, he had noted her discomfort when people had looked at them and she had been the centre of attention. He thought of the way she had told him of her nickname, the false bravado she had portrayed as she had pretended she didn’t care what her colleagues said. But he knew she did. It angered him that people judged her without knowing anything about her. He planned to change all that—as he planned a lot of things now he was back and had found her again—but he would have to be patient. Not a trait he was known for, but where Francesca was concerned, it was worth it.

Whilst he had wanted nothing more than to publicly stake his claim to Francesca, he had reluctantly released her hand as they had left their table and exited the canteen, not wanting to make her the object of hospital gossip which would only unsettle her and set his own cause back. Having dropped the bombshell about his permanent return to Strathlochan, he had escorted a near-speechless Francesca back to the ground-floor radiology unit on the pretext of having a look around.

After his quick tour of the unit before the afternoon appointments had begun, he had been even more excited about his new job and the prospect of working with Francesca—of seeing her every day and edging back into her life. It had been a big risk, giving up everything to come here, and, whilst their reunion had gone well so far, he wasn’t stupid enough to think things were going to be easy.

He’d met some of the other radiology staff, being careful to respect Francesca’s feelings and keep things professional. And then, all too soon, it had been time to leave, but not before he had managed to extract her agreement to meet up with him after work. He couldn’t wait. All he could think about was Francesca. Seeing her again had rocked him. She was beautiful and smart. But he sensed her aloneness—recognised it because he shared it. They were two of kind. Always had been. Now he had the most crucial challenge of his life ahead of him…to convince Francesca they belonged together. To encourage her to let down her protective guard and instinctive resistance.

The time ticked slowly by and, despite enjoying his mother’s company, he just wanted to return to the hospital to meet Francesca at the end of her shift. What was she doing now? Had she found out yet about the talk he had enjoyed with her immediate superior, Dee Miller, and the request he had made? What was she thinking?

Luke looked at his watch, his impatience growing. Soon he would see Francesca again. He needed to spend more time with her, to find answers to the endless questions he had about her life these last ten years and, importantly, to discover just how much her past affected her present thoughts and behaviour.

The first part of the plan that had been born eight weeks ago when he had discovered Francesca was back in Strathlochan had been achieved. He had re-established contact, confirmed his feelings and had persuaded Francesca to see him. The next step was to rekindle their friendship…a friendship he hoped would lead to much more.

Francesca glanced at the clock as she hung up the telephone, relieved to see there was only half an hour of her shift left to go. Time yet to deal with the unbooked patient Kim had just asked her to see, sent through from the A and E department for an ultrasound scan.

All her scheduled appointments had been completed and for once everything had run like clockwork with no problems, interruptions or delays. And yet the afternoon seemed to have dragged by. Even though she had been busy with a full list of patients requiring X-rays and ultrasound scans for a wide variety of injuries and illnesses, and had worked with her usual diligence and care, there had only been one thing on her mind.

One person.

Luke.

A timid knock on the door had Francesca trying to banish the image of Luke’s sexy green eyes and sinful mouth from her mind. ‘Come in,’ she called, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand as a large woman with short blonde hair and scared blue eyes entered the room.

‘The clerk at Reception sent me straight through,’ she explained, her nervousness evident in the shakiness of her voice.

‘That’s fine.’ Francesca smiled, trying to set the woman at ease. ‘Please, do sit down.’

The woman took the chair opposite and handed over the file she was carrying. ‘The doctor in Casualty said to give you this.’

Glancing at the request form, Francesca noted that Mrs Bryson had been seen in A and E by junior doctor Gus Buchanan who was querying the possibility of gallstones. Hence the requirement for the scan. Also noted on the sheet was Mrs Bryson’s anxiety. Francesca went through the usual introductory process she used with every patient, greeting them and telling them her name and her role, confirming their identity and that the details had been entered properly on the computer notes. Next she asked them to outline the reason for their visit and found out their history and if they had ever had X-rays or scans in the past.

‘Have you had an ultrasound before?’ The woman shook her head, clearly alarmed at what was to happen, so Francesca was swift to reassure her. ‘It’s a quick and painless procedure—just the same as pregnant women have to check on their unborn babies. The scan uses sound waves to see inside the body and build up a picture of organs and structures. In your case Dr Buchanan wants to check to see if you have any stones in your gall bladder that could be causing your symptoms. Did he explain that to you?’

‘Y-yes,’ Mrs Bryson stammered.

‘OK.’ Rising to her feet, Francesca crossed to the examination table by the ultrasound machine and made it ready. ‘If you’d care to lie down for me… ‘

The woman hesitated. ‘Do I have to get undressed?’ she asked, betraying the source of her anxiety.

‘No, I just need access to your abdomen, so we can adjust the clothes you are wearing.’ Keeping businesslike but friendly, hoping to aid the stressed lady to relax, Francesca helped her to settle on the table. ‘If you could lie more on your left side… That’s perfect,’ she praised, helping adjust the woman’s clothing to expose the area she needed on the right side and across her abdomen while retaining as much of her dignity as possible. ‘Now, I’m just going to put some gel on your skin. It’s cold, I’m afraid, but it’s necessary to get a good image.’

What she refrained from saying, so as not to upset Mrs Bryson any further, was that the larger the patient, the less sharp the image the scan could produce, given the layers the sound waves had to pass through. The woman was already self-conscious enough. ‘Next, I’m going to run the hand-held transducer over the area and we’ll see what we can find. You’ll feel a little pressure as I get the best connection possible. It shouldn’t cause you any discomfort, but tell me if you have any worries or there is anything you want to ask.’

With her patient declining the invitation to look at the screen, Francesca began the scan. Although the image was not the sharpest, it was obvious at once that Mrs Bryson did have gallstones. Several of them were apparent. She printed out copies of the images for the file, as well as saving the scan digitally for the doctors to review on screen, sending it through to A and E for Gus Buchanan. That done, she helped wipe the remains of the gel from Mrs Bryson’s skin, clearing up while the woman adjusted her clothes and climbed off the table.

‘Is that all there is to it?’

‘To the scan, yes.’ Francesca smiled sympathetically, hoping that the doctors could treat the stones without resorting to an operation, which she feared would scare the nervous woman even more. She jotted a few notes and handed the file back. ‘If you’d like to take this back to the A and E department, Dr Buchanan will explain the results and discuss them with you. Always speak up and ask any of us questions if there are things you don’t understand.’

‘Thank you. You’ve been so kind.’

‘My pleasure.’ Francesca opened the door and showed her out, ensuring she knew her way back to A and E. ‘Good luck, Mrs Bryson.’

Having finished her notes for the on-duty consultant radiologist who would review the day’s cases and write any reports needed for the referring departments or GPs, Francesca tidied the room, relieved that no more unexpected patients arrived. It was time to go home. Time to see Luke. A curl of heat percolated inside her. Aware, too, of a mix of excitement and confusion, she headed for the women’s locker room to change out of her uniform. Mindful of hygiene and the dangers of superbugs and cross-infection, one of several initiatives the hospital board had introduced was reinstating the policy of changing and laundering on site rather than allowing staff to wear uniforms to travel to and from work.

Only Dee Miller was in the room as Francesca entered. Her immediate superior, the head radiographer and technician was in her early fifties, short and plump, with warm hazel eyes and a dark brown bob. A lively, organised and caring woman, Dee had been working in the unit for many years. Well respected, she was responsible for the section Francesca worked in and for reporting to Derek Barwick, the chief consultant and clinical director of the radiology department.

‘Everything all right?’ Dee asked, already dressed in street clothes and in the process of putting her discarded uniform into the hospital laundry basket before returning to her locker, a few down from Francesca’s.

‘Fine, thanks.’ Detecting an odd note in Dee’s voice, she looked at her colleague and frowned. ‘Why? Have I done something wrong?’

‘Goodness, of course not!’ Dee reassured her with a surprised laugh. ‘You’re the best radiographer we have. No, I just thought you seemed distracted this afternoon.’

Francesca shook her head, unable to explain that she had been in shock since meeting up with Luke at lunch time. Instead, she hid behind her locker door on the pretence of rummaging inside for her things.

‘The new surgical registrar made quite an impression,’ Dee continued, a teasing note in her voice.

Feeling a blush warm her face, Francesca kept her head buried in her locker. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured noncommittally.

‘I gather you know each other.’

‘We went to the same school as children,’ Francesca allowed, downplaying the connection even though she feared Dee was not going to let the subject drop. ‘I’ve not seen Luke for ten years.’

‘For once it seems all the talk about changes in the orthopaedic department and rumours of a high-flying new surgeon coming here were true.’ Dee closed her locker door and sat down on the bench, clearly settling herself in for a good chat. ‘I heard that Maurice Goodwin snapped Luke up after he was left a man short on his team when the last registrar, Adrian Lomax, left under a cloud after that botched operation.’

Like everyone else, Francesca had heard the talk, but she seldom paid much attention to hospital rumour. With Dee confirming that the news about the new surgeon was true…and that it referred to Luke…she knew that he had trained in London under the renowned orthopaedic maestro Professor James Fielding-Smythe.