Читать книгу Once Upon A Christmas - Sarah Morgan - Страница 8

‘SIX-MONTH-OLD baby coming in with breathing difficulties.’ Bryony replaced the phone that connected the accident and emergency department direct to Ambulance Control and turned to the A and E sister. ‘That’s the third one today, Nicky.’

‘Welcome to A and E in November.’ The other woman pulled a face and slipped her pen back in her pocket. ‘One respiratory virus after another. Wait until the weather gets really cold. Then everyone falls over on the ice. Last year we had forty-two wrist fractures in one day.’

Bryony laughed. ‘Truly?’

‘Truly. And you wouldn’t laugh if you’d been working here then,’ Nicky said dryly as they walked towards the ambulance bay together. ‘It was unbelievable. I wanted to go out with a loudhailer and tell everyone to stay at home.’

As she finished speaking they heard the shriek of an ambulance siren, and seconds later the doors to the department crashed open and the paramedics hurried in with the baby.

‘Take her straight into Resus,’ Bryony ordered, taking one look at the baby and deciding that she was going to need help on this one. ‘What’s the story?’

‘She’s had a cold and a runny nose for a couple of days,’ the paramedic told her. ‘Temperature going up and down, and then all of a sudden she stopped taking any fluids and tonight the mother said she stopped breathing. Mother came with us in the ambulance—she’s giving the baby’s details to Reception.’

‘Did she call the GP?’

‘Yes, but he advised her to call 999.’

‘Right.’ Bryony glanced at Nicky. ‘Let’s get her undressed so that I can examine her properly. I want her on a cardiac monitor and a pulse oximeter—I need to check her oxygen saturation.’

‘She’s breathing very fast,’ Nicky murmured as she undid the poppers on the baby’s sleepsuit. ‘Poor little mite, she’s really struggling. I suppose we ought to call Jack—even though calling him will massage his ego.’

Bryony looked at the baby, saw the bluish tinge around her lips and heard the faint grunting sound as she breathed.

‘Call him,’ she said firmly. ‘This baby is sick.’

Very sick.

She didn’t care if they massaged Jack’s ego. She trusted his opinion more than anyone else’s and not just because he was the consultant and she was a casualty officer with only four months’ A and E experience behind her. Jack Rothwell was an incredibly talented doctor.

Nicky finished undressing the baby and then picked up the phone on the wall and dialled, leaving Bryony to carry out her examination. She watched the baby breathing for a moment and then placed her stethoscope in her ears, strands of blonde hair falling forward as she bent and listened to the child’s chest.

When she finally unhooked the stethoscope from her ears, Jack was standing opposite, looking at her with that lazy, half-bored expression in his blue eyes that always drove women crazy.

And she was no exception.

She’d known him for twenty-two years and still her knees went weak when he walked into a room. She’d often tried to work out why. Was it the sexy smile? The wicked blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled? The glossy dark hair? The broad shoulders? Or was it his sense of humour, which had her smiling almost all the time? Eventually she’d come to the conclusion that it was everything. The whole drop-dead-gorgeous, confident masculine package that was Jack Rothwell.

When she’d started working in A and E in the summer, she’d been worried about how it would feel to work with a man she’d known all her life. She was worried that finally working together would feel odd. But it didn’t.

She’d fast discovered that Jack at work was the same as Jack not at work. Clever, confident and wickedly sexy.

‘So, Blondie,’ his deep masculine tones were loaded with humour. ‘You need some help?’

Blondie …

Bryony grinned. He’d called her ‘Blondie’ when she’d been five years old, and now she was twenty-seven he was still calling her ‘Blondie’. She’d even had a brush with being brunette at one point in her teens but it had made no difference. He’d still called her ‘Blondie’. It was one of the things she loved about their friendship. The way he teased her. It made her feel special. And, anyway, it meant that she could tease him back.

‘This baby’s sick.’

‘Which is presumably why she’s in hospital,’ Jack drawled, leaning across and reaching for her stethoscope, the fabric of his shirt moulding lovingly to the hard muscle of his shoulders. Despite his teasing words his eyes were on the baby, looking, assessing, mentally cataloguing his findings.

Bryony watched him with admiration and more than a touch of envy. His instincts were so good. If anyone she loved ever ended up in A and E, the doctor she’d want them to see would be Jack. He had a brilliant brain and an amazing ability to identify medical problems based on seemingly scanty information. And she’d learned more from him in her four months in A and E than she had from any other doctor in her career so far.

‘So what did you notice, Blondie? Apart from the fact that there’s a little patient on the trolley?’

He stood back while Nicky attached leads to the baby’s chest and connected them to the monitor.

‘She’s cyanosed, has intercostal recession and she’s grunting,’ Bryony said immediately, her eyes on the baby. ‘Her resps are 60 per minute and she’s becoming exhausted.’

Jack nodded, his eyes flickering to the monitor, which was now operational and giving them further clues to the baby’s condition.

‘She has acute bronchiolitis. We need to get a line in this baby fast,’ he ordered softly, holding out a hand to Nicky who immediately proffered the necessary equipment. He handed it to Bryony. ‘Go on. Impress me.’

‘You want me to do it?’ Bryony looked at those tiny arms and legs and shook her head. ‘I’d rather you did it.’

She could see how ill the baby was and she didn’t have the confidence that she’d get the line in first time. She knew Jack could. And with the baby that sick, his skill was more important than her need to practise.

His eyes narrowed and his gaze was suddenly serious. ‘Don’t doubt yourself,’ he said softly, his blue eyes searching as he read her mind. ‘Do it.’

He was still holding out the equipment and Bryony sucked in a breath. ‘Jack, I—’

‘Can do it,’ he said calmly, those wicked blue eyes locking on hers. ‘In three months’ time you’re going to be working on the paediatric ward and you’re going to be taking blood all the time. You need the practise. Go for it.’

Bryony hesitated and Jack lifted an eyebrow, his blue eyes mocking.

‘You want me to hold your hand?’ His voice was a lazy drawl and Bryony blushed. How could he be so relaxed? But she knew the answer to that, of course. During her time in the A and E department she’d learned that panic did nothing to improve a tense situation and she’d also learned that Jack’s totally laid-back attitude to everything rubbed off on the rest of the staff. As a result, they operated as a smooth, efficient team.

Looking at the baby, Bryony bit her lip and lifted the child’s tiny wrist.

‘Relax. Take your time.’ Jack closed long, strong fingers around the baby’s wrist and squeezed. ‘OK. Here’s one for you. What do you call a blonde with half a brain?’

Bryony was concentrating on the baby’s wrist. She found a tiny, thready vein and wondered how she was ever going to hit such a tiny target. It seemed almost impossible.

‘Gifted,’ Jack said cheerfully, squinting down at the baby’s hand. ‘You’ll be fine. She’s got good veins. Stop dithering and just do it.’

So she did and the needle slid smoothly into the tiny vein on her first attempt.

Relief and delight flooded through her.

‘I did it.’ She looked up, unable to hide her pride, and Jack smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners.

‘As I said. Gifted. Now you just need the confidence to go with it. You’re a good doctor. Believe in yourself.’ His eyes held hers for a moment and then he looked at Nicky. ‘OK, we need a full blood count, U and Es, BMG, blood culture and viral titres. And Nicky, let’s give the child some humidified oxygen.’

Believe in yourself.

Well, she did believe in herself. Sort of. It was just that she was afraid of making a mistake and Jack Rothwell never seemed to be afraid of anything. He just did it. And it turned out right every time.

Bryony busied herself taking the necessary samples. ‘Should I do arterial blood gases?’

‘They can do them on the ward,’ Jack said immediately. ‘Nicky, can you call Paeds and get them up here? This little one is going to need admitting. She’s a poorly baby.’

Bryony looked at him. ‘You think it’s bronchiolitis?’

‘Without a doubt.’ He smothered a yawn and looked at her apologetically. ‘Sorry. I was up half the night.’

It was Bryony’s turn to look mocking. ‘Was she nice?’

‘She was gorgeous.’ He grinned, that wonderful slightly lopsided grin that affected her knees so acutely. ‘She was also eighty-four and had a fractured hip.’

‘You love older women.’

‘True.’ He checked the monitor again. ‘But generally I like them mobile. OK, Blondie. What’s the likely causative organism here? Exercise your brain cell and impress me twice in one evening.’

‘RSV,’ Bryony said immediately. ‘Respiratory syncytial virus causes 75 per cent of cases of bronchiolitis.’

He inclined his head, his expression mocking. ‘All right, you’ve impressed me. And you’ve obviously been studying your textbook again. Now we’ll do some maths. What’s two plus two?’ His eyes were dancing. ‘No need to answer immediately and you can use your fingers if you need to. Take your time—I know it’s tricky.’

‘No idea,’ Bryony returned blithely, batting her eyelashes in a parody of a dumb blonde and handing the bottles to Nicky for labelling. ‘Jack, should we pass a nasogastric tube?’

‘No. Not yet.’ He shook his head, his gaze flickering over the baby. ‘When you’ve finished taking the samples we’ll set up an IV and get her to the ward. I’ve got a bad feeling about this little one. She’s going to end up being ventilated.’

‘I hope not,’ Bryony murmured, but she knew that Jack was always right in his predictions. If he thought the baby was going to need ventilating, then it was almost certain that she would.

He looked at her quizzically. ‘Is the mother around?’

As he asked the question the doors to Resus opened and the paramedics came back in, escorting a tall woman wrapped in a wool coat. Her face was pale and her hair was uncombed.

‘Ella?’ She hurried over to the trolley, her face lined with anxiety, and then she looked at Jack.

Bryony didn’t mind that. She was used to it. Women always looked at Jack.

Even before they knew he was the consultant, they looked at him.

And it wasn’t just because he was staggeringly, movie-star handsome. It was because he was charming and had an air of casual self-assurance that attracted women like magnets. You just knew that Jack would know what to do in any situation.

‘I’m Dr Rothwell.’ He extended a hand and gave her that reassuring smile that always seemed to calm the most frantic relative. ‘I’ve been caring for Ella, along with Dr Hunter here.’

The woman didn’t even glance at Bryony. Her gaze stayed firmly fixed on Jack. ‘She’s been ill for days but I thought it was just a cold and then suddenly today she seemed to go downhill.’ She lifted a shaking hand to her throat. ‘She wouldn’t take her bottle and she was so hot and then tonight she stopped breathing properly and I was terrified.’

Jack nodded, his blue eyes warm and understanding. ‘It’s always frightening when a baby of this size is ill because their airways are so small,’ he explained calmly. ‘Ella has picked up a nasty virus and it is affecting her breathing.’

The woman blanched and stared at the tiny figure on the trolley. ‘But she’s going to be OK?’

‘We need to admit her to hospital,’ Jack said, glancing up as the paediatrician walked into the room. ‘This is Dr Armstrong, the paediatric registrar. He’s going to take a look at her now and then we’ll take her along to the ward.’

‘Will I be able to stay with her?’

‘Absolutely.’ Jack nodded, his gaze reassuring. ‘You can have a bed next to her cot.’

Deciding that Jack was never going to be able to extricate himself from the mother, Bryony briefed Dr Armstrong on the baby’s condition.

She liked David Armstrong. He was warm and kind and he’d asked her out on several occasions.

And she’d refused of course. Because she always refused.

She never went on dates.

Bryony bit her lip, remembering Lizzie’s letter to Santa. She wanted a daddy for Christmas. A pretty tall order for a woman who didn’t date men, she thought dryly, picking up the baby’s charts and handing them to David.

Dragging her mind back, she finished handing over and watched while David examined the baby himself.

A thoroughly nice man, she decided wistfully. So why couldn’t she just accept his invitation to take their friendship a step further?

And then Jack strolled back to the trolley, tall, broad-shouldered, confident and so shockingly handsome that it made her gasp, and she remembered the reason why she didn’t date men.

She didn’t date men because she’d been in love with Jack since she’d been five years old. And apart from her one disastrous attempt to forget about him, which had resulted in Lizzie, she hadn’t even noticed another man for her entire adult life.

Which just went to show how stupid she was, she reflected crossly, infuriated by her own stupidity.

Jack might be a brilliant doctor but he was also the most totally unsuitable man any woman could fall for. Women had affairs with Jack. They didn’t fall in love with him. Not if they had any sense, because Jack had no intention of ever falling in love or settling down.

But, of course, she didn’t have any sense.

It was fortunate that she’d got used to hiding the way she felt about him. He didn’t have a clue that he’d featured in every daydream she’d had since she’d been a child. When other little girls had dreamed about faceless princes in fairy-tales, she’d dreamed about Jack. When her teenage friends had developed crushes on the boys at school, she’d still dreamed about Jack. And when she’d finally matured into a woman, she’d carried on dreaming about Jack.

Finally the baby was stable enough to be transferred to the ward and Nicky pushed the trolley, accompanied by the paediatric SHO, who had arrived to help, and the baby’s mother.

Bryony started to tidy up Resus, ready for the next arrival, her mind elsewhere.

‘Are you all right?’ David Armstrong gave her a curious look. ‘You’re miles away.’

‘Sorry.’ She smiled. ‘Just thinking.’

‘Hard work, that, for a blonde,’ Jack said mildly, and Bryony gave him a sunny smile, relaxed now that the baby was no longer her responsibility.

‘Why are men like bank accounts?’ she asked sweetly, ditching some papers in the bin. ‘Because without a lot of money they don’t generate much interest.’

David looked startled but Jack threw back his head and laughed.

‘Then it’s fortunate for me that I have a lot of money,’ he said strolling across the room to her and looping her stethoscope back round her neck.

For a moment he stood there, looking down at her, his eyes laughing into hers as he kept hold of the ends of the stethoscope. Bryony looked back at him, hypnotised by the dark shadow visible on his hard jaw and the tiny muscle that worked in his cheek. He was so close she could almost touch him, but she’d never been allowed to do that.

Not properly.

He was her best friend.

They talked, they laughed and they spent huge amounts of time together. But they never crossed that line of friendship.

Jack’s pager sounded and he let go of the stethoscope and reached into his pocket. ‘Duty calls. If you’re sure you can cope without me, I’ll be off.’

‘I’ll struggle on,’ Bryony said sarcastically, and he gave her that lazy wink that always reduced her legs to jelly.

‘You do that. I’ll see you later, then. Are you joining the team at the Drunken Fox tonight?’

‘Yes. Mum’s babysitting.’

The whole of the local mountain rescue team were meeting for a drink to celebrate her brother’s birthday.

‘Good.’ He gave a nod. ‘See you there, then.’

And with that he strolled out of the room with his usual easy confidence, letting the door swing closed behind him.

David stared after him. ‘Don’t you mind the blonde jokes and the fact that he calls you Blondie?’

Bryony shot him an amused look. ‘He’s called me that for twenty-two years.’ She fiddled with the stethoscope that Jack had looped round her neck. ‘He’s just teasing.’

‘You’ve known him for twenty-two years?’

‘Amazing that I’m still sane, isn’t it?’ Bryony said lightly. ‘Jack was at school with my two brothers but he spent more time in our house than his own.’ Mainly because his parents had been going through a particularly acrimonious divorce.

‘He’s practically family. He and my brothers were at medical school together.’

Nicky entered the room in time to hear that last remark. ‘I bet the three of them were lethal.’

‘They certainly were.’

David looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course—why didn’t I realise before? Tom Hunter, the consultant obstetrician—he’s your brother?’

Bryony smiled. ‘That’s right. And my other brother, Oliver, is a GP. When I’ve finished my rotation I’m going to join him in his practice. He’s the reason for the trip to the pub—it’s his birthday today.’

Not that they needed an excuse for a trip to the pub. Most of the mountain rescue team members lived in the pub when they weren’t working, training or on a callout.

David looked at her. ‘I can’t believe that I didn’t click sooner that Tom Hunter is your brother.’

Bryony shrugged. ‘Well, we don’t know each other that well.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ David said in an undertone. ‘I keep asking you out.’

And she kept refusing.

Conscious that Nicky was within earshot, Bryony handed David the last of the charts. ‘Here you go. Everything you need on baby Ella. I hope she does OK.’

‘Thanks.’ He hesitated and then gave her a smile as he walked out of Resus.

‘That man fancies you,’ Nicky said dryly, and Bryony sighed.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’re in love with Jack, the same as every other woman on the planet.’

Bryony looked at her, carefully keeping her expression casual. She’d never admitted to anyone how she felt about Jack, and she wasn’t going to start now. ‘Jack’s my best friend. I know him far too well to ever fall in love with him.’

‘Then you’re more sensible than the rest of the female population,’ Nicky said happily. ‘Every woman I know is in love with Jack Rothwell. He’s rich, single and sexy as sin. And most of us could scratch your eyes out for being so close to him. According to rumour, he spends half his life hanging around your kitchen.’

Bryony smiled. When she’d lived at home Jack had always been there, and when she’d moved into her own cottage he’d taken to dropping round so often that he was almost part of the furniture. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. Usually he’s telling me about his latest girlfriend. He’s my brothers’ closest friend, he’s my daughter’s godfather and we’ve been in the mountain rescue team together for years. I can assure you there’s nothing romantic about our relationship.’

Unfortunately.

Nicky sighed. ‘Well, it sounds pretty good to me. I’d love to have him in my kitchen, if only for his decorative qualities. The guy is sublime.’

‘Nicky, you’re married.’

Nicky grinned. ‘I know. But my hormones are still alive and kicking.’

Bryony busied herself restocking one of the equipment trays. Strictly speaking it wasn’t her job but she didn’t want to look at Nicky in case she gave herself away.

Her relationship with Jack was good.

They had a fantastic friendship.

But even the most fantastic friendship didn’t soothe the ache in her heart.

She was about to say something else to Nicky when the doors to Resus opened again and one of the paramedics stuck his head round.

‘Has the baby been transferred to the ward? Only I’ve got her father here.’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ Bryony said immediately, glad to be given an excuse to get away from the subject of Jack. She followed the paramedic out of the room.

A tall man in a suit was hovering anxiously in the corridor, his face white with strain.

‘I’m Dr Hunter,’ Bryony said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve been looking after Ella.’

‘Oh, God …’ he breathed out slowly, obviously trying to calm himself down. ‘I came as soon as Pam called me but I was at a meeting in Penrith and the traffic was awful.’

Bryony gave an understanding smile and slowly outlined Ella’s condition, careful to be realistic without painting too grim a picture.

‘So she’s on the ward?’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Sorry. I know I’m panicking like mad but she’s my baby and—’

‘It’s OK,’ Bryony said gently, putting a hand on his arm. ‘You’re her father and you’re entitled to be worried.’

His shoulders sagged and he looked exhausted. ‘You don’t know what worry is until you have kids, do you?’

Bryony thought of Lizzie and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed softly, ‘you certainly don’t.’

‘Do you have children yourself, Doctor?’

‘I have a little girl.’

They shared a smile of mutual understanding. ‘And the bond between a little girl and her daddy is so special, isn’t it?’

Bryony tensed and then she smiled. ‘It certainly is,’ she croaked, feeling as though she’d been showered with cold water. ‘Very special.’

She directed the man to the children’s ward and stared after him, feeling sick inside.

She loved Lizzie so fiercely that she rarely thought about the fact that her little girl didn’t have a father. She had plenty of father figures—her two brothers and Jack, and she’d always consoled herself that they were enough. But Lizzie obviously didn’t think so or why would she have asked for a father for Christmas?

Lizzie wanted the real thing. She wanted a father to tuck her up at night. A father who would read to her and play with her. A father who would panic and leave a meeting because she was sick.

Bryony gave a groan and covered her face with her hands. How was she ever going to satisfy Lizzie’s Christmas wish this year?

How was she going to produce a father when she didn’t even date men and hadn’t since Lizzie had been conceived? And not even then, really.

Bryony let her hands drop to her sides, torn with guilt at how selfish she’d been. Because of the way she felt about Jack, she’d shut men out of her life, never thinking about the long-term effect that would have on Lizzie.

It was true that she didn’t want a man in her life, but it was also true that Lizzie needed and wanted a father.

And suddenly Bryony made a decision.

She was going to stop dreaming about Jack Rothwell. She was going to stop noticing his broad shoulders. She was going to stop noticing the way his cheeks creased when he smiled. She was going to stop thinking about what he looked like with his shirt off. In fact, she was going to stop thinking about him altogether and start dating other men.

Finally she was going to get a life.

And Lizzie was going to get a daddy.