‘How’s Jamie?’ he asked, when they began scrubbing up.
Like she was supposed to think he cared? ‘Fine,’ she replied.
‘No more trouble getting him to the day-care centre?’
Don’t do this to me, her heart cried. Don’t pretend to be interested in me and my son when I know you’re not. Don’t stand there looking all nice, and dependable, and downright attractive, because I can’t handle it.
‘He’s fine,’ she repeated.
‘And David?’ he said, stretching across her to get more soap just as she did, too.
Their collision was inevitable. While her hands went up instinctively to prevent it, she still ended up nose first in his chest. Nose first into a chest that smelt of hospital antiseptic, pine soap and something else that was simply him. Nose first into a pair of arms with dark hairs that brushed against her own bare arms as they reached out to steady her, sending tantalising shivers racing up and down her spine.
She should have stepped back immediately, of course. Any sensible woman would have stepped back immediately, but all her sense seemed to have gone west in the confines of his arms.
‘Annie…’
His voice was deep, husky against her ear, and she raised her head slowly. It was her second mistake. The moment she gazed into his deep brown eyes she was lost. She didn’t even try to evade his lips when they lowered to capture hers. In fact, she angled her head for him. Slid her arms up his back to hold him closer, and groaned as he plundered her mouth with his tongue, teasing and encouraging her to respond with a fervour she hadn’t even known she’d possessed.
It was only when she suddenly became aware of the hard evidence of his arousal through the thin material of their theatre scrubs that reality struck home. Struck home with all the force of a cold shower. With a strangled cry she pulled herself free from his arms.
‘Annie, it’s all right,’ he said, his breathing fast and ragged as she backed away from him, shaking her head from side to side.
But it wasn’t all right, she thought as she stared up at him. How could she have been so weak, so stupid? Last night this man had been making love to Woody, and she—idiot that she was—had just fallen into his arms as well.
‘Annie—’
‘We…we’ll have to scrub up again,’ she said, spinning back to the sink, her cheeks scarlet with angry, mortified colour.
‘But, Annie—’
‘Gideon, what happened…I blame myself.’
‘There’s no question of blame,’ he protested. ‘Annie, we’re both grown-up, single, unattached.’
You’re not, she wanted to hurl back at him, but didn’t. ‘We have patients waiting, Gideon.’
For a moment she thought he was going to argue with her, then he nodded slowly. ‘OK, but we need to talk about this, Annie. Later we really have got to talk.’
Not in my lifetime, she thought as she squeezed more soap onto her hands and saw they were shaking. She knew what would happen if they talked. He would look at her with those tender, concerned brown eyes of his, and all her common sense would disappear straight out the window.
Well, not any more, she told herself firmly when they reached the operating theatre and she watched him perform Mrs Burns’s tubal occlusion and Mrs Simpson’s hysterectomy. He was the still waters and dark horse man with a nice line in sympathetic smiles and understanding looks, but it was just that—a line—and she wasn’t buying. Not now. Not ever.
‘Last patient coming up,’ Gideon declared when he’d completed Mrs Simpson’s hysterectomy. ‘It’s Sylvia Renton. I know she’s only thirty-two weeks, but I’ve decided to perform a Caesarean. She’s getting no better psychologically, and I don’t think it’s good for either her or the child to postpone the delivery any longer.’
Annie nodded. Over the past week she’d noticed Sylvia was becoming more and more antagonistic towards the child she was carrying, and the woman’s attitude didn’t appear to have changed when she was wheeled into the operating theatre, her white-faced, be-gowned husband at her side.
‘I don’t care what you do,’ she told Gideon when he’d explained about the epidural anaesthetic which would ensure she wouldn’t feel any pain and yet would allow her to see her baby the second it was born. ‘Just so long as you get rid of this sickness.’
‘We can certainly guarantee that.’ He smiled. ‘And I’m sure that once you see your son or daughter you’ll feel it’s all been worthwhile.’
Sylvia didn’t look convinced. Annie wasn’t either when the intensive care baby unit team took up their positions, a humidicrib at the ready. Sylvia’s pregnancy had been so unrelentingly miserable that to expect her to immediately bond with her baby was expecting a lot, but miracles did happen.
‘Everyone ready?’ Gideon asked once he’d injected the anaesthetic into Sylvia’s spine and Annie had inserted a catheter into her bladder to drain it.
They all nodded. Even Pete Renton from where he was standing nervously positioned behind the green screen which they’d erected over his wife’s torso so that he wouldn’t see the actual operation but would be able to get his first glimpse of his child.
With ample blood supplies at the ready in case Sylvia should unexpectedly require a transfusion, Gideon swiftly made a horizontal incision into her stomach just above her pubic bone, and then another down into her uterus. Gently he freed the baby’s head and while one of the theatre nurses suctioned off the amniotic fluid Annie pressed down on the top of Sylvia’s womb so that Gideon could lift the baby out.
‘It’s a boy, love,’ Mr Renton declared excitedly. ‘At least…’ He frowned. ‘At least I think it is.’
‘It is, indeed.’ Gideon chuckled, handing the baby to a member of the intensive care baby unit once he’d clipped and cut the cord.
Lord, but he was so small, Annie thought, tears welling in her eyes as the nurse showed Sylvia and her husband their son before placing it in the humidicrib. He weighed scarcely more than a bag of flour, but at least he’d taken his first breath. She’d heard it—a tiny wail like that of a kitten—and she’d seen his little fists move before the ICBU team had whisked him away.
‘Annie.’
Her head snapped round guiltily. ‘I…I’m sorry, I—’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Gideon said, understanding in his voice. ‘He may be small, but he’s perfectly formed. The most important thing now is to make sure we’ve removed all the afterbirth from mum.’
She flushed under her mask. He must think her a complete idiot, being on the verge of tears when she was supposed to be assisting him. But Sylvia had scarcely looked at her son, and she couldn’t help but remember the day Jamie was born. The almost terrifying rush of love she’d felt when she’d stared down at him and realised he was part of her, her own flesh and blood.
‘I’m just going to give you another injection, Sylvia,’ Gideon said. ‘It’s a drug called ergometrine, which will make your uterus contract and stop any bleeding. Once that’s taken effect, and we’ve stitched you up again, one of the staff from the intensive care baby unit will wheel you along to see your son.’
‘I’d far rather get some sleep,’ she replied, and Gideon’s eyes met Annie’s across the operating table.
‘I’m sure you would,’ she said smoothly. ‘But I’m equally certain that you’ll sleep a lot easier after you’ve seen your son again.’
‘He’s beautiful, love,’ Pete enthused. ‘In fact, he looks just like you.’
‘Does he,’ Sylvia said without interest.
‘And he’s got such a head of hair—really thick, and long,’ her husband continued. ‘Sylvia, he’s gorgeous.’
‘I’m just glad he’s not making me sick any more,’ she muttered.
‘We’ll give her a couple of days to recover from the op,’ Gideon commented once he and Annie were back in the changing room, ‘but if her attitude towards the baby doesn’t improve I’ll ask the hospital psychiatrist to have a word.’
‘At least Mr Renton was pl
eased,’ she said, pulling off her cap and binning it.
‘Sylvia will be eventually,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen situations like this before, and the secret is to do something about it quickly before it festers and becomes a big problem.’
‘I guess so,’ she said without conviction.
‘You did very well this morning,’ he continued. ‘Woody told me you have good hands, and you do.’
He’d meant it as a compliment, but Annie didn’t appear to take it as such. In fact, to his amazement, she shot him a look which would have sunk a lesser mortal.
Now, what on earth was that all about? he wondered as she went abruptly into the changing room. OK, so perhaps she was still upset about their kiss earlier, but the look she’d given him hadn’t been an unhappy one. It had been positively venomous.
She obviously thought their kiss had been a big mistake, but what the hell had he been supposed to do? She’d looked so damned desirable, her cheeks all flushed, her eyes softly luminous, and backing off as he’d been doing for the past week, not crowding or hassling her, sure as heck hadn’t worked. If anything, he thought she’d become even more uptight and tense in his presence.
He pulled off his theatre top with a sigh. It looked like it was time for plan B. Plan A definitely hadn’t worked so it was time for plan B. He just hoped he could pull it off.
‘A staff meeting!’ Helen exclaimed belligerently. ‘Why the heck does Gideon want to hold a staff meeting today of all days? I was hoping to get away on time. I’ve got an appointment at the hairdresser’s for the ball tonight, then I’ve got to dash home and get the kids fed and settled before the babysitter arrives—’
‘What’s the meeting about?’ Annie interrupted.
‘I haven’t a clue. Three o’clock prompt in his room—that’s all he said.’ The SHO’s gaze raked over Annie. ‘You look terrible. You’re not coming down with something, are you?’
I wish I was, Annie thought ruefully. If I was coming down with something there’d be some medicine I could take, some pill that would make me feel better, but there isn’t a pill to cure anger and disappointment.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, suddenly realising Helen was waiting for a reply.
‘You’re sure? Only you’re looking very peaky, and—Oh, damn,’ Helen groaned as her bleeper went off. ‘Why do I just know it’s going to be one of those days?’
‘Tell me about it,’ Annie sighed when Helen hurried off. At least the SHO had something to look forward to tonight. At least she was secure in her husband’s love, even if he didn’t always remember to send her a card on Valentine’s Day.
Actually, none of the women on the ward appeared to have been forgotten. Every bed had flowers or a card beside it. Some even had heart-shaped balloons to commemorate the day, and what had she got? Nothing. A big fat nothing.
No, not nothing, she thought as she noticed Jennifer Norton flicking through a magazine, then throwing it aside. You’ve got your son, and he’s the most precious, wonderful thing in your life.
‘How are you feeling, Jennifer?’ she asked, pulling up a chair beside the woman’s bed.
‘OK, I guess,’ Jennifer began, then shook her head. ‘No, I’m not. I’m terrified. Terrified to move. Terrified even to turn over in case…’
‘Jennifer, if your two remaining embryos are securely implanted, you’d have to go horse riding to dislodge them, and you probably wouldn’t even be able to do it then,’ Annie told her.
‘That’s what Mr Caldwell said, but he’s talking about sending me home on Monday or Tuesday, and I don’t want to go home,’ Jennifer said, obviously perilously close to tears. ‘I want to stay here for the whole of my pregnancy, and then I know everything will be all right.’
‘Oh, Jennifer—’
‘Don’t tell me my favourite mum-to-be is getting herself down in the dumps again?’
Was Gideon haunting her today? Annie thought with irritation, turning to see him standing behind her. No, of course he wasn’t. He was simply doing his afternoon rounds, but it felt like he was haunting her.
‘Couldn’t we possibly keep her in a little longer?’ she asked as she followed him down the ward after he’d done his best to reassure Jennifer. ‘Perhaps for a week—ten days?’
‘Annie, it isn’t going to make any difference if Jennifer’s here or at home, and much as I’d like to sit by her bed, holding her hand for the duration of her pregnancy, we don’t have the spare bed capacity.’
He was right, they didn’t.
‘I just hope she makes it,’ she murmured, glancing over her shoulder in time to see Jennifer pick up her magazine again.
‘So do I, but one thing I’ve learned from my years of medicine is that hopes aren’t always realised.’ He glanced down at his watch. ‘It’s almost three o’clock. I’ll try my best to keep this staff meeting as short as possible so you can get away in time to pick up Jamie.’
Gideon was doing it again—being kind, thoughtful—and before she could stop herself she said tartly, ‘I don’t want—or need—any favours from you.’
He blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Not half as sorry as I am,’ she muttered under her breath, but he must have heard her because as she swung out of the ward he hurried after her and caught hold of her arm.
‘Look, what is this?’ he demanded, spinning her round to face him. ‘You’ve been shooting daggers at me all day, and if I’m in the doghouse I’d at least like to know the reason.’
‘If you don’t know, I’m certainly not going to tell you,’ she retorted, which was silly and childish, but right now she didn’t feel very grown up.
He let go of her arm and wearily dragged his fingers through his hair making it even more unruly than normal. ‘Annie, it’s been a rough week, and I have every expectation that next week’s going to be even rougher. If this is all because I kissed you, I’m not going to apologise. I enjoyed it, and I think you did, too.’
‘I’m surprised you can even remember it!’ she exclaimed. ‘One kiss amongst so many.’
‘So many?’ he repeated in apparent confusion, then sighed. ‘Annie, it’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Just tell me what’s bugging you, OK?’
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Like she could simply say that she’d seen him kissing Rachel Dunwoody last night, and she thought he was a rat? No, she didn’t think so.
‘Your private life is none of my business,’ she said instead.
‘What private life?’ he protested. ‘I come to work—I work—then I go home again. Jeez, Annie, anyone would think you were suggesting I was the Belfield’s answer to Casanova.’
‘From what I’ve heard and seen, you are.’
The accusation was out before she could stop it, and his jaw dropped. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘So you should,’ she retorted, the anger she’d been feeling all day suddenly bubbling over. ‘Trust me, you said. I’ll never hurt you, you said. And the stupid thing is, I was beginning to believe you.’
He stared at her silently for a second, then shook his head. ‘My father warned me that women could be irrational, and now I see why. OK, give. What’s this all about?’
Pride and anger warred within her, and anger finally won. ‘I saw you yesterday,’ she blurted out. ‘With Woody.’
‘With Woody?’
‘How quickly we forget,’ she snapped. ‘Yes, with Woody. In your room. You…you were kissing her.’
‘Kissing her?’ he repeated, then to her absolute fury the bewilderment on his face became amusement—amusement and delight. ‘And you’re jealous?’
‘No, of course I’m not jealous,’ she spluttered. ‘I just happen to think that if a man kisses a girl on Saturday—asks if he can see her again—he might at least have the decency to wait more than five days before he’s groping someone else.’
‘I don’t grope—never have. Annie, you’re an idiot. Yes, I kissed Woody but—’
‘This had better be good, Gideon,’ Tom comme
nted as he came down the corridor towards them. ‘I’ve got masses of paperwork to catch up on and the last thing I need is an unexpected staff meeting.’ He glanced from Annie’s furious face to Gideon’s exasperated one, and his eyebrows rose. ‘You did say three o’clock, didn’t you?’
‘Am I late?’ Helen gasped, racing out of the door which led to the stairs. ‘I got held up in Haematology—’
‘Nobody’s late,’ Gideon interrupted, ‘and this won’t take long. In fact, if you could all take a seat in my room, we’ll get started.’
‘Shouldn’t we wait for Woody?’ Helen asked, and Gideon shook his head.
‘She’s not in today, which is one of the reasons I’ve called this meeting, but I’ll explain about that in a minute. Firstly I’m afraid we’re going to have a visitation tomorrow. The government in its wisdom has set up a team of consultant obs and gynae experts and is sending them off to visit hospitals all over the country to check out standards and procedures.’
‘Oh, terrific—that’s all we need,’ Tom groaned. ‘Some expert poking about the department, telling us how things should be done and conveniently forgetting that we have to work within the limitations of what we’ve got. Who is this bloke, and how long is he going to be inflicted upon us?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t give you his name,’ Gideon replied, ‘but he’s going to be with us for a week or so. Which brings me to the second reason for this meeting,’ he continued, as Tom began to mutter darkly about government experts simply being consultants who couldn’t hack it in the real world. ‘Woody’s aunt died of motor neurone disease last week, and she’s asked if she can take some compassionate leave to sort everything out.’
They all looked at one another uncertainly, and Annie wondered if she was the only one who hadn’t known that Woody had an aunt, ill or otherwise.
‘I don’t mean to sound hard or unfeeling, Gideon,’ Tom said awkwardly, ‘but how much leave are we talking about here? Two or three weeks…’
‘Three months. Yes, I know,’ Gideon said, as they all gazed at him with dismay. ‘It’s going to leave us drastically short-staffed, but I could hardly say no. Woody’s never taken her full holiday entitlement, and her aunt’s death has affected her badly.’
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