Angel Kate

by Ramsay, Anna

  'The light's much better by the window. Maybe I can help. Pass you things.' She took hold of his good arm in case he should be unsteady on his feet.

  It was a shock to be reminded how tall he was, towering over her, physically dominating the confined space. No wonder the agency nurses had been frightened of Tom Galvan in a rage. Herself a tall girl, Kate felt dwarfed and fragile beside him. She was taken aback when the grumbling suddenly ceased and tightening his dressing gown cord Tom looked down at her and grinned. She smiled back uncertainly, mistrusting her instinctive reaction to be charmed by this charismatic man.

  'What am I supposed to call you?'

  'Gertie,' said Kate, silently congratulating herself on being ready for this one.

  'Well you look a darn sight better without your goggles, Gertie. Seem to see a lot better without them too.'

  'Oh, I—er— took them off to help with the beds. They slip down my nose.'

  'Really. Why's that, Gertie. Didn't you have them properly fitted?'

  'I – er – lost a lot of weight. Yes, I was … em … really … this uniform used to be quite tight.'

  'You had a fat nose. How unfortunate.'

  Oh god, thought Kate. This is one smart guy, I'm going to have to watch my step if I'm to keep up this charade. 'Which pile of forms do you want to start with?' she asked hurriedly.

  Five minutes passed in which Kate bustled back and forth with fresh linen and Tom Galvan resumed his work.

  'Coffee okay, Mr Galvan? Another cup?'

  He flung down his pen with a sigh. 'I trained myself to be ambidextrous—always useful for a surgeon. But my right hand's not used to this and I'm getting writer's cramp.'

  'Perhaps I could help you.'

  'We-ell, this is strictly confidential, I can't let you read the applications.' Tom rubbed his chin as he considered her tempting offer … He could wait for his secretary to come up in the late afternoon. Or he could get stuck in with Gertie's help. 'I guess you could help me draw up my shortlist.'

  Kate brought over a visitor's chair and settled herself alertly at his elbow with the clipboard.

  'Going to be able to manage all right without your goggles, Gertie?'

  'It's OK, I just wear them for reading,' said Kate without a second thought.

  Tom gave her an odd look but left it at that. 'These are applications for the post of registrar on my neuro-surgical firm. I'm drawing up a shortlist of ten names. '

  'All these? But there must be over a hundred!'

  He gave a grunt. 'We've had a very high response and Kingsley's checked through the lot and weeded out the no-hopes. Every one of these surgeons has excellent qualifications and experience. Blame the cutbacks. I hate rejecting good men.'

  'And good women,' said Kate firmly.

  'Quite.'

  Her eyes challenged his. 'So there will be five female surgeons on your shortlist?'

  Not likely, Gertie. This quota business doesn't work – and a good woman's hard to find.'

  * * *

  'So how was it, your first experience of Maynard and the dreaded Tom Galvan?

  James and Kate were sitting together in the staff cafeteria having a cup of tea before she left for home. James kept glancing at his watch. He'd set up a controlled test in the lab and half an hour was as much as he could allow himself for a snack of beans on toast and a shared pot of tea with Kate, who had just come off duty

  'This morning wasn't so bad but you know it's ridiculous the number of people who kept trooping in and out all afternoon. Mr Galvan's senior registrar—'

  'Kingsley Armstrong?'

  'Yes, Kingsley, that's right. Well, he came and stayed ages going over theatre lists and discussing patients. And Kimberley brought across the post and letters to sign and he told her to be back to take dictation first thing in the morning. Plus half the senior medical staff fobbing me off with beaming smiles and "Just going to pop my head round the door and say hello". Doctors disturbing him who should know better. Mr Galvan got no rest to speak of. And as for the flowers! They keep arriving and he just says 'I'm not having this torture chamber turned into a mausoleum. Give them to someone else.'

  She prattled on, and James listened with half an ear now that he'd satisfied himself Kate had ended her first day unscathed. He was preoccupied with the complex reactions taking place at that very moment on his lab bench.

  'That television doctor, Diana Diamond, sent two dozen red roses. Mr Galvan kept those in his room. He seemed happier after they came,' she added thoughtfully. 'I wonder how he knows her?'

  James looked up in surprise. Then his brow cleared. Of course, it must have been before Kate came to Crisp's. 'Those two were an item once upon a time. For all I know they still are. She was a medical SHO at King's. I used to see her around here when she came down to stay with Galvan. That was before she got snaffled up by the BBC to present that TV programme Best of Health. Very striking woman. '

  'I think she's beautiful,' said Kate earnestly, cradling her mug of tea in her hands, conjuring up from memory the glamorous screen image of Diana Diamond.

  'Oh yes, Diana's one hot lady. Look I must go, sweetheart, see you later maybe?'

  Kate grabbed his sleeve. 'And me, darling, am I another hot lady?'

  'Heavens, no, sweetheart,' he said kindly, believing this reassuring answer was just what a dear, sensible girl like Kate Wisdom wanted to hear. 'Have you been going round like that all day?'

  'What?' said Kate in a puzzled voice.

  'With your belt not properly fastened.'

  'Grrr!' sulked a very confused staff nurse, heading home to her single bed.

  Chapter Four

  Kate withdrew the needle of a hypodermic containing 20 mls of blood and pressed cotton wool to the punctured vein in the crook of Tom's left elbow. Automatically Tom folded his arm, answering her encouraging smile with a baleful scowl as he relaxed back into the pillows. 'Repeat after me,' she said brightly, Thank you, Nurse, I didn't feel a thing.

  Tom emitted a sound which reminded her of a bear with a sore head. He clearly didn't trust her yet. Specially where needles and his body were concerned.

  Kate was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the only way to deal with Mr Galvan was to tell him in a firm tone of voice what she was about to do—and then get on with it before he had time to think up an argument against it.

  'Now you're to stay in bed this morning until the Professor's done his examination.'

  'Suits me fine.'

  Suits me too, thought Kate. That's a complicated fracture of the humerus, and with one arm in plaster your balance is affected. I don't want you falling while I'm trying to get on with other things.

  She printed the date of birth on the red-labelled sterile specimen container. Checked with the case notes and raised an eyebrow. Thirty-eight and already at the top of his profession. Tom Galvan must be super-clever.

  Next she filled in details of all drugs, treatments and sterile disposables used that morning. Everything, down to the last pre-injection Medi-Swab, had to be accounted for. Not that there'd be a bill at the end of the day for Crisp's most cherished patient.

  As she worked she kept a discreet eye on the injured surgeon's averted head, studying his brooding profile. As a medical student Tom must have been startlingly good-looking. Now, if anything, he looked older than thirty-eight, with the worldliness of the highly experienced man. Add in the high-octane intelligence and that aura of power, hallmark of the highly-qualified neuro-surgeon - and what had you got? … a grumpy panther, caged in a Maynard private bed!

  She chewed the end of her pen meditatively. Looked at what she had written – did a double-take – forgot she was supposed to be Nurse Dragon and laughed out loud.

  'What's the matter with you?' growled Tom.

  'You wouldn't want to know.'

  'Yes I would.'

  'I really don't think so!'

  'Try me.'

  'I've just written Cage 27 instead of Room 27. 'What was I thinking of?' 'Very
amusing,' he said sourly. 'And I suppose I'm the dangerously wounded male lion?'

  'More of a bad-tempered panther,' she teased.

  'So,' said Tom with ominous silkiness, 'that would make you the panther-tamer.' His eyes narrowed. He was plotting a way to get his own back.

  Kate could see it. Just let him try …

  Just then, the door opened and in breezed Professor Davy followed by Jonathan Reeves, the senior orthopaedic consultant, Sister Carter on their heels. Kate wiped the smirk off her face and assumed an air of sober efficiency.

  'Morning, Tom. Look at you now, all kempt and cared for. It's working already, that TLC we wrote you up for. Great stuff.' He beamed at the two of them. 'Tender Loving Care,' he declaimed. 'Never fails to do the trick, eh Sister? We knew you were the lass for the job, didn't we now. First class work, Kate.'

  Kate had forgotten she was supposed to be Gertie. Her patient was glowering at her across his bed and she couldn't think why, considering he'd just heard the Professor's encouraging words.

  To annoy her, Tom deliberately reached up with his good hand and messed up his hair. Tender loving care indeed! I'm shut in here with a woman intent on torture. Who's pretending to be someone she isn't! Just you wait till they've gone, Nurse Gertie.

  'Behaving himself is he, nurse?' Jonathan Reeves came round to the other side of the bed and turned back the sheets.

  'No,' exclaimed Kate, meeting Tom's stare eyeball to eyeball. 'Mr Galvan's the most restless, ungrateful, disobedient patient ever.'

  'Ha ha!' they all said, thinking this was just what Tom needed: a nurse with a good sense of humour cheering him up all day.

  'Cared for by the very nurse who saved you from haemorrhaging to death!' exclaimed the dapper Mr Reeves. 'It's not easy to put gratitude into words, is it Tom, but you'll have done your best.'

  Jonathan Reeves was in his late forties and famous for his sharp taste in suits. He was privately thinking that he'd never seen such a spectacular waistline on a nurse: surely eighteen inches went out with the Victorians? No wonder Tom was perking up at last, with that hourglass shape flittering round him all day.

  Mortified by James's comment, Kate had reverted to her everyday self, ditched the glasses and tightened her navy belt with its hospital badge clasp—not that Tom Galvan seemed to have noticed the improvement.

  She bent over the dressings trolley and tidied it all over again. Anything to avoid Tom's eye. Especially as it was gross exaggeration to imply she'd saved the neuro-surgeon's life!

  Wishing Sister would dismiss her, she handed over the blue vinyl folder which contained the TPR charts, drug prescription and administration records, and spare X-ray request forms.

  Satisfying himself that the patient was making good progress, Professor Davy turned his shrewd professional eye on Kate herself. She was much quieter than he'd realised, so tall and slender. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd be doubting the lass was really up to such a tricky assignment. Yet somehow she seemed to be making headway with her obstinate patient. Gratitude would be smoothing her path, of course, and rightly so: not that any of them had considered this possibility when Nurse Wisdom's name was put forward.

  'And nice to see you looking so much less peaky, m'dear. Marks like sooty thumbprints you had under your pretty eyes the morning after Tom's dreadful accident.' Frank himself had acquainted the neuro-surgeon with all the details surrounding his dramatic arrival at Casualty; he had certainly told of the vital part RGN Kate Wisdom had played.

  'Gave us a helluva fright, you did, boyo. It was real touch and go-o-o,' the long Welsh vowels were even more pronounced.

  'So you keep reminding me,' murmured Tom with a wry lift of an eyebrow.

  Jonathan Reeves took hold of Tom's left hand. He pinched a fingernail and viewed with satisfaction the immediate flush of pink. Sister hovered close by, ready to deal with obstructive clothing or bedding, watching and listening attentively as Mr Reeves carried out his examination.

  'Mrs Macdonald has been giving you physiotherapy daily, has she not? There's no swelling of the hand now. How does your arm seem today?'

  'Not much pain now.' Tom flexed and contracted muscles and tendons as the physio had instructed. His face was a mask of stubborn determination, the mouth a grim line, eyes narrowed in concentration.

  'This still comfortable?' Jonathan Reeves rapped a knuckle on the plaster cast. It gave off an odd chalky sound.

  'It's a damn nuisance,' returned his patient. 'Look here, Jon, you've got to be straight with me. What are the possibilities? I've a fair idea of what the complications could be,' he added grimly, 'and I know I'm not out of trouble yet.'

  Kate listened to the specialist with absolute concentration. She'd nipped along to the School of Nursing to read up in the library about complicated fractures of the humerus involving damage to adjacent structures, arteries, veins, nerves and muscles. Thrombosis was the obvious and most immediate danger to watch out for. Less serious in the upper arm because the alternative blood supply could take over if a major artery became blocked by a blood clot. In the elbow, however, such a clot could cause death of muscles of the forearm.

  And there were other complications to be aware of, as Mr Reeves was reminding them. Major threats to a surgeon's career …

  Not while I, Kate was telling herself grimly, am nursing this patient. His life is too valuable. I'm observing and recording every detail concerning Mr Galvan's condition. And if anything does go wrong, I'll be yelling for the lot of you!

  'With diminished or absent radial pulse,' he was saying, 'coolness and pallor of the skin of the forearm indicating the onset of arterial thrombosis.'

  Kate was mentally filing every word, an intent little frown creasing her brow.

  Propped up against the pillows, Tom regarded her with interest. So Gertie was none other than that Kate Wisdom. He knew all about that Kate Wisdom and promised himself that when life got back to normal he would seek her out, this nurse who had played such a part in his personal drama …

  As for 'Gertie'. At first he'd feared the usual. Yet another of them with the usual fantasies about romance with a brain surgeon. But underneath the dragon act, he could tell she was a sweet and sensible girl, and he liked to play the grumpy patient just to make the long slow days a bit more bearable. Besides, considered Tom, heavy-eyed, now he knew who she was, he also knew there was a boyfriend. One of the pathologists had snared her, lucky man.

  Dr James Mallory. Frank had filled him in.

  Trust Frank. Frank was no fan of Diana's. There he was, poking his nose into that vase of red roses, pulling a face because they didn't smell of anything at all… no scent, no thorns.

  Mr Reeves completed his examination and departed for his outpatients' clinic, escorted to the front door by Sister Carter who had sent Nurse Wisdom along to her office to pin up the new off-duty list.

  Professor Davy, glad of a chance for a man-to-man chat, checked over the internal soft-tissue injuries and pronounced himself well satisfied with the healing process. Then he settled companionably in the chair by the window, casting a quizzical eye on the great urn of roses ritually watered each morning by Kate.

  'I can guess who sent those.'

  'Huh,' grunted Tom discouragingly, trying to fold his arms and yet again—infuriatingly—coming up against the rigid plaster imprisoning his left side.

  'Has she been to see you?' The question was disingenuous. Frank knew perfectly well Diana couldn't have. He'd received several transatlantic calls, inconsiderately timed to disturb him in the middle of the night.

  'She's in Phoenix, Arizona, making a documentary for the next series.' Tom's expression was ironic. 'As you well know, Frank, you old bastard, because Di said she's spoken to you. Says she's worried sick about me.'

  Of course she is, the madam! scowled the Welshman, keeping his misgivings to himself. A brilliant and charismatic neuro-surgeon is one thing; a lame duck's quite a different kettle of fish! Sooner our Tom gets that woman out of his hair the b
etter. He ought to settle down with a nice St Crispin's girl. Someone kind and caring. Looks aren't that important; I've always said so.

  Out loud he put the craftily attractive suggestion he'd been saving for when the moment was ripe. 'We might let you go home end of next week … so long as nothing untoward happens between now and then.' He examined his short well-scrubbed fingernails, buffed them on his chalk-stripe jacket. 'You'll need some help, mind you. Just for a few weeks till the plaster comes off…Now will you look at that! The rain's stopped and the sun's coming out. That's more like it! Soon be May.'

  Tom brightened up. 'What sort of help? You mean a BUPA nurse?'

  'Any sort of nurse, as long as she's not already under contract.' Frank waited for Tom to grasp the bait. 'Anyone you had in mind?'

  'Not especially. Gertie's not a bad girl, though. Not much to look at, but she has a pleasant manner and gets on with the job.'

  'Why'd you call her Gertie?' said Frank, amused by the name.

  'Just a joke. You know.'

  'If you say so.'

  There was a pause. 'She'll be under contract, though.'

  'Temporary, I believe. Waiting for a staff job to come up on one of the medical wards. I'll make enquiries. Don't mention anything yet. And a word of advice in your ear, boyo. Stop calling her Gertie. I can't imagine what started that off.'

  Kate was saved from the inquisition to come by Mr Galvan's secretary, Kimberley, who was waiting in the corridor with her dictation pad and the morning's post. As Professor Davy walked out, Kimberley trotted in on confident stilettos. She was pert and blonde and pretty, only nineteen but with a five-star efficiency invaluable to her demanding surgeon boss.

  At the nurses' station an agency staff nurse was reading through a case notes folder. 'You're a dark horse and no mistake,' she exclaimed, eyeing Kate as she walked up to the desk. 'I thought they'd sent a right old frump to sort out Room 27. All of a sudden you look quite different! Pardon my saying so, but you look a load better without those awful glasses.'