‘Would you like me to stay with you?’ Hannah asked as Mrs Armstrong approached the trolley.
‘No. Thank you, dear, but, no,’ she replied with a tremulous smile. ‘Sammy and me, we’d just like to be alone together for a little while, if you don’t mind.’
Blindly Hannah went out of the trauma room. This was turning out to be a lousy shift, a really lousy shift, and it wasn’t over yet. It was only four o’clock in the morning. She had another three hours to go. Another three hours before she could go home, and try to forget the grief on Mrs Armstrong’s face.
And it wasn’t going to be the only thing she’d have to try to forget, she realised with a sinking heart when she walked through the treatment-room doors and Mr Mackay bore down on her expectantly.
‘Any luck with the organ donations, Hannah?’
She cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t ask. She was so upset, you see—’
‘What did you expect?’ the consultant exploded. ‘That she’d be doing cartwheels, hanging out flags? Of all the—’
‘Asking relatives to agree to organ donation is one of the toughest jobs there is, boss,’ Robert said quietly as he joined them. ‘You should have asked me to do it, and not expected Hannah—’
‘Do you have any idea how long the waiting list is for transplants?’ the consultant continued as though Robert hadn’t spoken. ‘Of the number of people who are waiting, hoping, for a phone call!’
‘I know, sir,’ Hannah began, ‘and I’m sorry—’
‘You’re sorry. You’re sorry?’ The consultant turned a deeper shade of red. ‘Where’s Mrs Armstrong?’
‘In the trauma room—’
‘I’ll speak to her myself. And as for you…’ The A and E consultant didn’t say she was a complete waste of space, but Hannah knew he was thinking it. ‘Take a break, get yourself a cup of coffee, and get your act together!’
How was she supposed to do that? she wondered as she went slowly out of the treatment room. How could she make herself tougher, stronger, less feeble?
The truth was she couldn’t. The even more unpalatable truth was that she wasn’t a doctor, she would never make a doctor, and it was time she faced up to it.
Tears blurred her vision as she went into the staffroom, switched on the kettle and sat down limply on one of the old battered chairs, not realising she wasn’t alone until a hand came gently down on her shoulder and she looked up to see Robert was there.
‘He didn’t mean it, Hannah,’ he murmured, his voice soft, understanding. ‘It’s been a rough night, and he’s simply tired like the rest of us.’
‘It’s not what Mr Mackay said,’ she said miserably. ‘Or at least, it’s not just that he obviously now thinks he’s hired an incompetent idiot. It’s Sammy Armstrong. Robert, I took one look at him and thought, black kid, mid-twenties with a bullet wound—drug-dealer. And he wasn’t—he wasn’t!’
‘Hannah—’
‘What’s happening to me?’ she continued, knuckling her tears away, her lips trembling. ‘I never used to make snap judgements about people, I never used to be so hard and uncaring. What kind of unfeeling bitch am I becoming?’
Robert pulled over another chair and sat down opposite her. ‘You can’t be a bitch if you care, and you wouldn’t be crying if you didn’t care. Hannah, you’ve just discovered you’re human like the rest of us. You’re tired, stressed—’
‘I wish I was like you,’ she blurted out. ‘So confident, so sure of yourself.’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘Would you believe there are times when I’m terrified witless?’
She stared at him in surprise. ‘You’re frightened?’
‘Hannah, we all are. Frightened we’ll make a mistake, frightened we’ll miss something, and desperately, desperately frightened that one day we’ll be so damned tired we’ll kill somebody.’
‘I thought it was only me who felt like that,’ she murmured as he got to his feet, spooned some coffee into two cups and handed her one ‘You, Elliot, Jane—you never seem to flap or panic. I thought it was just me who was scared all the time.’
‘Why do you think Elliot jokes so much—or Jane and Flo?’ he asked. ‘It’s their way of dealing with the stress. We all have to find our own particular way of handling it.’
‘What’s yours?’ she asked without thinking, only to colour as he smiled.
‘You mean apart from generally behaving like a bear with a sore head? I switch off completely when I go home, and that’s what you ought to do.’
‘I suppose I could always join one of the hospital clubs—’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said firmly. ‘You need to meet and socialise with people who aren’t medical. Our world is so full of pain and heartache that you can find yourself developing a battlefield mentality if you’re not careful, living for the day, seizing the moment as though it were your last. That’s why so many relationships between hospital staff end in disaster. If you want to join a club, join one that doesn’t have a doctor or a nurse on its books.’
Hannah gazed at him thoughtfully. Looking back, she could see she would never have become involved with Chris if she hadn’t been so lonely and stressed, but Robert had sounded almost as though he was speaking from personal experience. Jane had said he’d been shattered when his wife had died, but had his marriage been in trouble before Laura’s death? She would have dearly liked to have asked, but didn’t dare.
‘The other departments in the hospital call A and E “The Pit”,’ she murmured.
He nodded. ‘It can seem that way at times, and it’s not just because we’re constantly on the receiving end of a stream of human misfortune. It’s because we can never refuse to treat anyone no matter how drunk or nasty they might be.’
Hannah stared down at her cup of coffee. ‘I said I wouldn’t treat that horrible man who was so rude to Flo unless he agreed to let her dress his hand.’
‘Did you mean it? I mean, could you really have sent him out, knowing he might bleed to death?’
She bit her lip and sighed. ‘I guess not. Though I’d have made damn sure his hand hurt like hell by the time I’d finished with him,’ she added belligerently.
Robert laughed, a surprisingly deep and infectious sound, but as she blew her nose and laughed too she suddenly realised how tired he looked, his black hair dishevelled, his chin showing dark stubble.
‘I’m sorry to be such a wimp,’ she began guiltily. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate without—’
‘It was Kelly who gave the woman with the bleeding ulcer the glass of water, wasn’t it?’ he interrupted.
Her heart sank and she tried to meet his gaze and couldn’t. ‘It might have been anyone—’
‘But it was Kelly. Hannah, covering up for her was a very kind and loyal thing to do, but it was also stupid.’
‘She’s so very young—’
‘And you’re ancient, I suppose,’ he said with a ghost of a smile. ‘I’ll have to tell Mr Mackay—’
‘But—’
‘Hannah, she should have known not to give any patient anything until she’d checked with a doctor, and now we’re going to lose valuable—maybe vital—time before we can treat her.’
He was right, she knew he was, and she sighed. ‘Just lately I seem to be getting everything wrong…’
‘Will you get off that guilt trip?’ he protested. ‘You’re a good doctor.’
‘Not a gifted or a talented one,’ she said a little wistfully, and to her surprise his grey eyes suddenly became cold.
‘Is that what you want?’ Robert demanded. ‘You can’t be happy simply being a good doctor—you’ve got to be some high-flying, brilliant one instead?’
In truth, she wanted only to be as good as she could be, but she didn’t want him to think she was lacking in initiative, a non-achiever, or worse.
‘Would it be so very wrong if I were ambitious?’ she said, taking a sip of her coffee to buy herself some time.
He hadn�
�t used to think it was, Robert remembered. In fact, he’d applauded Laura’s ambition until they’d got married and he’d discovered just how very ambitious she’d been. If Hannah felt the same—that promotion was more important than anything else—then he had all the more reason to keep his distance, to clamp down hard on his body’s unsettling reaction to her.
‘It depends on why you decided to become a doctor,’ he replied, his eyes fixed on her. ‘If your aim is to find some new treatment then I’ll support you all the way, but if you see the profession as a means of gaining power and status, a giant ego trip…’
Hannah had never wanted to be as successful as her father, not ever. All she’d ever wanted had been to help people, to make them well again, but would he think her naïve, and childish, if she said that?
‘I suppose so,’ she muttered, and to her surprise he abruptly got to his feet.
‘Ambition can be a two-edged sword, Hannah,’ he said tightly. ‘Handle it with care.’
His face was all dark planes and shadows under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and she didn’t know what to say. All she knew was that somehow she’d said the wrong thing, and she desperately wanted to make it right.
‘Robert—’
‘Sorry to interrupt, Robert,’ Jane said, popping her head breathlessly round the staffroom door, ‘but it’s bedlam out here, and if Mr Mackay doesn’t get help soon I think he’s going to burst a blood vessel.’
‘I’m coming,’ he replied, but as Hannah got to her feet he shook his head firmly. ‘Take another ten minutes, finish your coffee.’
‘I’ve had enough—’
‘Sit down and drink your coffee, Hannah,’ he ordered, and as Jane disappeared again Hannah’s lips twitched.
‘What was that you were saying about ego trips, and some doctors loving the power?’
A smile of genuine amusement lit up his face. ‘You’re feeling better, I see.’
‘I am, thanks to you,’ she replied, then grimaced. ‘I always seem to be thanking you, don’t I?’
‘You’ll be all right, Hannah,’ he declared. ‘You have great compassion and dedication. Hold onto those two things, and you’ll be fine.’
She nodded, but he must have seen a trace of lingering doubt in her face because he suddenly reached out and tilted her chin upwards with his fingers.
‘No more self-flagellation, OK? No more agonising.’
She laughed a little shakily. ‘I’ll try my best.’
‘You do that.’ He smiled, but as he continued to gaze down at her his smile slowly disappeared, to be replaced by a look that made her heart begin to race, her breath catch in her throat.
‘Hannah…’
She could hear the banging doors, the hum of conversation and clatter of trolley wheels on vinyl in the corridor outside, but all she was really aware of was that something was happening that she didn’t understand.
‘Robert…’
He took a step forward and she forgot to breathe as he cupped her face with his hands. He was going to kiss her again—she knew he was—and he did, but not as she had expected.
He simply tilted her head and placed a kiss on her forehead. A kiss that was as gentle and tender as it was frustratingly brief.
‘You’re a nice kid, Hannah, a great kid,’ he murmured, his voice suddenly rough, husky. ‘Try not to change.’
And with that he walked away, leaving her staring blankly after him. A nice kid? He thought she was a great kid?
He hadn’t thought she was a child that night in his flat. He hadn’t thought she was a child when he’d kissed her, and held her. And she didn’t want him to think of her as a child. She wanted…
Oh, she was so damned confused she didn’t know what she wanted any more, but it was certainly not for Robert to think of her as a kid!
CHAPTER SIX
‘SO, YOU’RE quite happy with Hannah’s work, then?’ Mr Mackay asked, shuffling the papers on his desk and determinedly avoiding his special registrar’s eye.
‘More than happy,’ Robert replied with surprise. ‘Boss, if you’re still concerned about that fiasco with the bleeding stomach ulcer case, and Sam Armstrong—’
‘Kelly has been reprimanded for her part in the affair, and as Mrs Armstrong agreed to donate some of her son’s organs after I’d spoken to her I consider the subject closed. I simply wondered…’ The consultant shuffled his papers again. ‘As Hannah’s been with us now for two months, I merely wondered how you felt she was settling in, whether there were any problems.’
A slight frown creased Robert’s forehead. ‘Did you expect there to be any?’
‘Good grief, no!’ Mr Mackay exclaimed with what he hoped was a suitably reassuring smile, though in reality he was already beginning to wish he’d never started this conversation.
He wouldn’t have either if Charles Blake hadn’t rung him up yesterday completely out of the blue, clearly worried about his daughter.
Initially he hadn’t blamed the man. Hell, he had two grown-up daughters himself and the last branch of medicine he’d have wanted either of them to specialise in was A and E, but what had worried him—more than worried him—was Charles Blake’s apparent fear that Hannah might not be pulling her weight. It had been an odd thing for a father to say—a very odd thing—and the more the A and E consultant had thought about it, the more uneasy he’d become.
‘So you have no worries about her work?’ he pressed.
‘None at all,’ Robert declared. ‘She’s a good doctor, and she’ll become an excellent one in time. She suffers from a severely over-developed inferiority complex, but apart from that I can find no fault with her.’
The consultant nodded. He suspected he’d have a huge inferiority complex too, if his father had undermined his confidence the way Charles Blake clearly did his daughter’s. The man might have a string of qualifications and awards to his name, but he clearly merited a big fat zero on the sensitivity scale.
‘Boss, this sudden concern of yours with Hannah,’ Robert continued, his frown deepening. ‘Is there something I should know—something you’re not telling me?’
The consultant’s heart sank. He’d promised Hannah he wouldn’t tell anyone who her father was, appreciating her desire to be accepted for herself, but he’d also had his own reasons for wanting to keep her parentage a secret.
Robert Cunningham would blow a fuse when he found out. Born into a poor, working-class family, Robert had no time for rich, well-connected students, and the minute he found out who Hannah’s father was he’d undoubtedly accuse her of pulling strings to get the job. It wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to point out that nobody in their right mind would pull strings to get a job at St Stephen’s.
‘Of course there’s nothing you should know,’ the consultant protested. ‘Look, I don’t have to explain my interest to you,’ he continued, taking refuge in anger. ‘This is my department and it’s part of my job to keep my finger on the pulse!’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I have to go,’ the consultant said abruptly, getting to his feet fast. ‘I’ve a meeting with Admin in ten minutes, and you…I suggest you get back to work!’
And before Robert could reply his boss had made a bee-line for the door and was gone, leaving him gazing blankly after him.
What in the world had that been all about? Robert wondered as he left the consultant’s office and walked down the corridor. Normally Mr Mackay was only too pleased to leave the supervision of the junior members of staff to him, and yet the consultant had looked almost guilty when he’d asked him if there was anything he should know.
In fact, if the consultant had been a younger man he’d even have started to wonder if his interest in Hannah was more than strictly professional, but his boss was a happily married man of some twenty-five years, and he…
Was becoming fixated, Robert decided as he pushed open the doors of the treatment room and felt his pulse rate rocket when he saw Hannah laughing at something Jane had just said.
Dammit, she was just a girl. A girl who possessed a pair of beautiful dark eyes and wonderfully curly hair, but she was still just a girl. He might well be attracted to her—OK, all right, he admitted it—but that didn’t mean he had to give in to that attraction. He was a mature adult male, not a teenager, and it was about time he started acting like one.
The only trouble was that it was a hell of a lot easier to think about than actually do, he realised with a groan as Hannah suddenly threw back her head and laughed again and he felt his groin tighten painfully. A hell of a lot easier.
‘RTA on the way, Robert!’ Floella suddenly called. ‘Teenage couple—the bloke sounds to be in much worse shape than the girl.’
Which was exactly what he needed, Robert told himself as he strode towards the trauma room. Work. To bury himself in work, and maybe that would also bury his intrusive and relentless libido.
And it did. At least it did until he and Elliot had stabilised the young man and sent him to Intensive Care, and he went in search of Hannah to see how she was coping with the injured female passenger.
‘She’s conscious, knows who and where she is, and she can move her arms and legs,’ Hannah reported. ‘The only thing she’s complaining about is some pain in her neck.’
Robert nodded, and noticed with approval that not only had Hannah kept on the cervical collar which had been placed around the girl’s neck at the scene of the accident, she’d also immobilised her on a hard board.
‘Have you paged Radiology yet?’ he asked.
‘Jerry Clark’s on his way down now.’
Oh, he was, was he? Robert thought grimly.
Ever since Hannah had told him about the X-ray technician’s behaviour he’d had to keep his temper under a very tight rein whenever Jerry Clark appeared. And the rein got even tighter today when Jerry breezed into the cubicle with a smile at Hannah that made Robert’s fingers itch to rearrange the technician’s plump features.
‘Neck and back X-rays only, please, Jerry,’ he said brusquely, before turning his attention back to the young girl lying nervously on the trolley. ‘Dr Blake tells me your neck’s very sore. Do you feel any numbness or tingling in your hands and feet?’
A Wife for Dr. Cunningham Page 9