It was the dimmest ray of hope but it was something to hold onto in the dark.
‘Merci. Thank you.’
Joanna breathed out a sigh of relief as she sat down. Her paper had been well received and several people in the audience had asked some very in-depth questions afterwards. She glanced at Dylan and felt a little glow fill her when he smiled at her. She could tell that he had enjoyed her performance and it just seemed to put the seal on her pleasure. If Dylan approved then all was right with her world.
The thought was deeply disquieting because once again it made her see how much influence he had over her. Even before last night his views had mattered, and now they seemed to count for even more. Would they be able to resume their previous status when they got back to London? Or would it be too difficult to separate themselves from what had happened during this weekend?
The thought nagged away at her for the rest of the morning so that by the time they broke for lunch, she had a headache threatening. Dylan obviously guessed something was wrong because he drew her into a quiet corner.
‘You look worn out, Joanna. Are you feeling all right?’
‘I think I’m getting a headache,’ she confessed, rubbing her throbbing temples.
‘Do you want to go back to the hotel? There’s just one more speech after lunch, I think.’ He hunted the programme out of his pocket and nodded. ‘Yes. One of the German delegates is talking about the problems of providing health care for the vast number of asylum-seekers who are flooding into Europe.’
‘I particularly wanted to hear what he said,’ Joanna explained. ‘We’re under a lot of pressure at St Leonard’s—’
She got no further when a deafening explosion suddenly rocked the building. Chunks of plaster began to rain down from the ceiling and the room quickly filled with clouds of dust.
‘Come along!’ Dylan took her arm and briskly steered her to the exit. The other delegates were trying to leave so there was a small jam at the doors, but fortunately nobody seemed to be panicking. They made it outside eventually and stopped on the pavement. They could hear the sound of sirens as the police and emergency services rushed to the area, but it was difficult to tell what had happened.
‘Wait here while I try and find out what’s going on,’ Dylan instructed tersely. He turned to hurry along the street to where a crowd had gathered around the entrance to the Métro, but Joanna caught hold of his sleeve.
‘Be careful, won’t you?’
‘Don’t worry. I shall.’ He squeezed her hand then hurried away.
Joanna waited in the road, shaking her head when several people from the conference asked her if she knew what had happened. The police were starting to cordon off the area and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was told to leave. She didn’t intend to go anywhere until she knew Dylan was all right, however, so when she spotted Jean-Pierre Duteil talking to one of the gendarmes she hurried over to him.
‘What’s happened?’ she demanded as the policeman moved away.
‘There has been an explosion on the Métro. The police think it may have been a bomb but they do not know for certain yet.’
‘A bomb!’ Joanna echoed in dismay. ‘Are there many people injured?’
‘Sadly, yes. The station was full apparently, and there was a train arriving when the explosion happened. I am going straight to Sancerre Hospital to await the injured.’
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ she offered immediately. ‘If there are a lot of casualties you’ll need extra staff to help you. Dylan and I would like to be of use.’
‘That would be wonderful, Joanna. Merci.’ Jean-Pierre took a card out of his top pocket and gave it to her. ‘Here is the address of the hospital. I shall tell my staff to expect you.’
He hurried away and she saw him hailing a taxi. The police were making their way towards her and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she had to move on. She scanned the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Dylan making his way towards her.
‘The police think it might have been a bomb but they’re not sure. There’s a lot of folk injured, though,’ he told her.
‘I know. I was just speaking to Jean-Pierre. He’s gone back to his hospital and I told him that we’d like to help. Is that all right with you?’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Of course! Do you have the address?’ He took the card then put his arm around her waist and led her away from the chaos. ‘Let’s find a cab and go straight there.’
It took them some time to find a taxi because there were a lot of people trying to get away from the scene of the incident, but finally they were on their way. Joanna had no idea what would greet them at the hospital but they would cope. Together.
Her heart filled with a bitter-sweet pain as the thought sank in. She could cope with anything so long as Dylan was beside her, but it would be a mistake to let herself become dependent on him.
‘Fractured sternum which, from the look of this shadow, may have punctured the pericardium. There’s definitely fluid accumulating around the heart so this one is top priority for surgery.’
Dylan removed the X-ray from the light-box while the nurse who had been assigned to help him translated for her colleagues’ benefit. He and Joanna had been sent to the traumatology department as soon as they had arrived at the hospital. As well as the main theatres on one of the upper floors, there were also two, small, well-equipped Theatres attached to the department. They had been in constant use ever since he and Joanna had got there—in fact, Joanna was currently working in one of them, assisting one of the hospital’s own surgical team. Dylan would relieve her once the operation was finished but in the meantime he was making himself useful by doing triage.
The patient was rushed upstairs and the next trolley was wheeled in. The waiting-area had been turned into a holding bay for the injured. The nurse had told him that the walking wounded were being seen at a local clinic so the patients they were dealing with tended to be the most badly injured. Fortunately, the staff had set up an excellent system and were making sure that everyone was X-rayed on admission. It made it much easier for him to assess the extent of their injuries. He’d just taken a fresh X-ray out of its folder when Joanna appeared.
‘Theatre’s all yours. We’ve finished our stint now.’
Dylan quickly excused himself and drew her aside. ‘How did it go?’ He sighed when she shook her head. ‘That bad, eh?’
‘The poor girl had just stepped off the train when the bomb went off, and she took the full brunt of the explosion. There was very little we could do for her.’ She took a deep breath and he could tell that she was struggling to control her emotions. ‘Her husband is almost beside himself with grief. She was six months pregnant, you see, so he’s lost both his wife and his unborn child.’
‘Oh, hell!’ He enfolded her in his arms, uncaring what anyone thought because he desperately wanted to comfort her. ‘It’s just not fair, is it?’
‘No. It isn’t.’ Her voice was thickened with tears and he held her even tighter for a moment before she pulled away. ‘Sorry. This is neither the time nor the place to start getting all emotional.’
‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ he countered, hating to hear her being so hard on herself. He experienced a sudden rush of concern when he saw how pale she looked. It was obvious the woman’s death had affected her deeply, although it was hardly surprising in the circumstances.
‘Why don’t you go back to the hotel, Joanna?’ he suggested. ‘You’ve done more than enough here and you look worn out.’
‘I’m fine.’ She glanced round and sighed. ‘Anyway, there’s far too many people here who need help for me to go swanning off.’
‘In that case then you may as well take over from me.’ He handed her the X-ray. ‘I’d better get myself into Theatre.’
‘I believe a lot of the conference delegates are working in various hospitals around the city,’ she told him, holding the X-ray up to the light.
‘I sup
pose that’s something to be grateful for. At least there isn’t a shortage of qualified staff.’ He glanced round when the nurse came to tell him that he was needed.
‘Looks like that’s my call to duty,’ he said, turning to Joanna again. ‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be so why don’t I meet you back at the hotel? You’ll probably finish before I do and there’s no point you waiting around.’
‘Fine. Let me know when you get back, won’t you?’
‘I will.’ He desperately wanted to kiss her but there was such an air of reserve about her that he decided not to risk upsetting her. He hurried across the crowded waiting-room and paused briefly outside the doors leading to Theatre, but Joanna was busy with the patient and didn’t see him.
Dylan went straight to the changing room to get ready. Fortunately, the surgeon he was assisting spoke excellent English so there was no language barrier to contend with. They worked steadily until the queue of patients had been whittled away. Dylan shrugged off the other surgeon’s thanks as they left Theatre. He’d been happy to help although he had to admit he was glad that it was time to leave. It was almost seven in the evening which meant—incredibly—that he’d been at the hospital for over six hours. Now what he wanted most was to go back to the hotel and find Joanna so they could carry on with their weekend.
The hotel’s foyer was crowded when he got back. It appeared that a lot of the conference delegates were checking out. Dylan frowned as he made his way up in the lift. Had they decided to cut short their stay because of the bombing?
Joanna opened the door as soon as he knocked and let him into her room. ‘How did it go?’
‘Fine. We operated on three people and all of them should make it, I’m pleased to say.’ He glanced across the room and frowned when he spotted her suitcase lying on the bed. ‘Are you packing already?’
‘Yes. The conference has been called off because of what’s happened.’
‘I see. That explains why there were so many people checking out just now. But it doesn’t mean that we have to leave, surely? We aren’t rostered to work this weekend so we can stay until Monday as we’d originally planned.’
‘You can stay if you want to, of course, but I think it would be best if I returned home.’
She went to the bed and carefully packed a blouse into the case. Dylan watched her in stunned silence, wondering what had made her suddenly decide to go back to London. Was she worried in case there was another bomb scare, perhaps?
‘If you’re worried about there being another incident I’m sure the French police will be on full alert after what’s happened,’ he said gently.
‘It’s not that.’ She placed a silk scarf in the case then closed the lid. ‘I just feel it would be better if I went home tonight.’
‘Better in which way?’
Dylan’s heart was hammering so hard that he could actually hear it beating. He took a deep breath but it was difficult to appear calm when faced by this unexpected turn of events. Joanna had been fine when they’d last spoken. Granted, she’d been upset about the young mother who had died, but he honestly couldn’t see how that would have had any bearing on her decision to leave.
‘In all kinds of ways. Staying on in Paris won’t achieve anything, Dylan. It will just make it that more difficult for us to return to normal once we’re back at work.’ She lifted the case off the bed and carried it over to the door.
Dylan ran a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of what she’d said. ‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t see how it will make it more difficult. It’s going to pretty damned hard to go back to the way we were after last night, whether or not we stay an extra couple of days.’
‘I disagree. I think it will be a lot easier for both of us if I leave tonight.’ She glanced round when there was a knock on the door. ‘That will be the porter for my case. I’ve managed to get a seat on the Eurostar. It’s due into London at midnight.’
‘And what am I supposed to do, Joanna? Or don’t you really care one way or the other?’
His anger rose on the back of a wave of pain so intense that it felt as though his heart was being ripped apart. If she’d stood there and told him—point blank—that she didn’t care a jot about him the message couldn’t have been any more clear.
‘Of course I care, Dylan. If I didn’t care I wouldn’t be going home!’
‘I’m sorry. Maybe I’m being particularly dense but that doesn’t add up. Why would you decide to go home if you cared about my feelings?’
‘Because I don’t want you to make the mistake of falling in love with me.’ Colour rose to her cheeks but she met his eyes without flinching. ‘I’ve told you that we don’t have a future and I meant it. I have worked far too hard to get where I am to throw it all away. Love, marriage and children are not on my agenda, Dylan, but they’re on yours. It wouldn’t be fair to let you lose out on all of those because you hope that I’ll change my mind.’
There was a second knock on the door and she picked up her coat. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you but one day you’ll agree that I’ve made the right decision.’
‘And what if I don’t? What then, Joanna?’ he asked hoarsely, but she just shook her head.
She opened the door and showed the porter her case then followed him from the room. Dylan stood right where he was, unmoving. His limbs felt too shaky to support him but even the few steps it would need to take him to the bed so he could sit down were too much.
He could scarcely believe that Joanna had undergone such a massive change of heart when everything had been fine a few hours ago. Had she been scared by the fact that he hadn’t managed to hide his feelings for her?
He had tried his best not to let her see how much he cared about her but it wasn’t easy when he loved her so much. Now he had to find a way to convince her that she was making a mistake by cutting him out of her life. She needed him just as much as he needed her…
Didn’t she?
Dylan took a deep breath but the truth had to be faced. Joanna might never care as much about him as she cared about her career.
CHAPTER TEN
‘SCALPEL…Damn!’
Joanna breathed deeply as the instrument slid through her fingers and dropped onto the theatre floor. It wasn’t like her to be so clumsy but it was the third time that morning that she had managed to drop something. She nodded her thanks when Lucy handed her a fresh scalpel but she could tell the staff were wondering what was wrong with her. What would they think if she confessed that her lack of concentration was the result of missing Dylan?
She forced her mind back to the task at hand, knowing that she couldn’t afford to let it wander. The patient, a woman in her forties called Mary Gregory, had been admitted with volvulus—a condition whereby a loop of intestines became twisted. According to the patient’s notes Mary had been suffering from severe colic for several days and Joanna was concerned in case the blood supply to the affected tissue had been cut off.
She cut through the layers of fat and muscle in the abdominal wall until she reached the colon and sighed when she saw that her suspicions had been correct. There’d obviously been no blood supply to the area for some time and gangrene had set in. She would need to remove the dead tissue which would mean cutting away quite a large section of the colon then joining the two ends together again. It would take several weeks for the colon to fuse together so in the meantime its contents would need to be discharged through an artificial opening which she would have to make in the abdominal wall.
As she set to work, Joanne couldn’t help wishing that Mary Gregory had sought help sooner rather than later because then she might not have needed to undergo such drastic treatment. It was usually best to face up to a problem rather than hope it would resolve itself.
That thought was a shade too close for comfort so Joanna put it out of her mind while she worked. An hour later she sent Mary Gregory to Recovery and went to get changed. There was a meeting with Brian Maxwell scheduled for that afternoon, when she
and Dylan were supposed to report back about what had happened at the conference. Brian had been on holiday since they’d come home but he had phoned her that morning and set up the meeting. She was dreading it.
For the past two weeks she had gone out of her way to avoid Dylan but there was no way that she could avoid him that day. The thought of being in the same room as him made her feel sick with guilt. Even though she was sure that she’d been right to call a halt when she had, it didn’t make the situation any easier. She only had to remember the look on his face when she’d told him she was going home to know how much she’d hurt him, yet what else could she have done?
Witnessing that young Frenchman’s grief at losing his wife and unborn child had made her see how wrong it would be to encourage Dylan’s growing feelings for her. Granted, their situation might be rather different but there could be no justification for knowingly breaking someone’s heart. She couldn’t and wouldn’t allow Dylan to fall in love with her when she had nothing to offer him in return.
Joanna showered and dressed then went to her office to check if there were any messages for her. Lisa was at lunch but she’d left a list of calls on her desk. Joanna glanced through them but as there was nothing urgent she decided to deal with them later. She needed to clear her head before the meeting and a walk round the park might help. She was just leaving her office when Diane Grant, the surgical consultant, hailed her.
‘Have you got a minute, Joanna? I need a word with you.’
‘Of course. Come in.’ Joanna unlocked the door and went back inside. She waved Diane towards a chair and sat down. ‘I was just going to take a breather before my meeting with Brian Maxwell.’
‘I didn’t realise you had a meeting,’ Diane said hurriedly. ‘Shall I leave it till later?’
The Pregnant Surgeon Page 12