Nurse In Need

‘And this wedding is going to be in October, right?’

‘If that’s what you’d like.’ Nigel was still smiling, pleased at having sorted out the misunderstanding.

‘You mean I get a say in this after all?’

Nigel now looked disconcerted. ‘Maybe we should talk about this later, Amy.’

‘Maybe we should,’ Amy agreed. Maybe it wasn’t just Nigel’s mother who was autocratic and overbearing. Amy felt confused. There was too much she needed to think about and her brain wasn’t functioning nearly as clearly as it had been before that last glass of champagne. ‘Excuse me, Nigel, but I really need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Again?’

Amy took pleasure in ignoring Nigel’s vaguely disapproving tone. She walked out of the drawing room, through the conservatory where she helped herself to a bottle of champagne waiting on the side table. Then she let herself out of the French doors onto a verandah that overlooked the garden. Stepping carefully, Amy negotiated the steps and turned onto a path that she knew led to the summer house.

‘What does he expect?’ Amy muttered to herself. ‘He clicks his fingers and I give up my job and trot off to Sydney?’ She paused to drink champagne and top up her glass. ‘What am I supposed to be? Robo-Wife?’

Maybe Jennifer was right and she shouldn’t marry Nigel. What did he have going for him, apart from being single, successful, usually charming and apparently madly in love with her?

‘Oh, hell.’ Amy took another mouthful of wine. He had quite a lot going for him, really. Was she going to throw it all away because she felt miffed that Nigel hadn’t asked what she’d wanted before letting his mother plan the wedding?

The floodlighting hadn’t been turned on at the summer house but the white paintwork was easy enough to see in the dark. A mossy statue to one side of the garden structure was also just visible. A sort of large garden nymph holding garlands of foliage.

‘Why is it?’ Amy asked the statue, ‘that the things that really matter to me don’t seem to be important to anyone else?’

To Amy’s astonishment, the statue answered her. ‘You tell me,’ it said.

‘It’s because I was never quite good enough,’ Amy told the statue sadly. ‘I was supposed to have been a boy, you know.’

‘Really?’ The statue seemed very interested.

‘Yes.’ Amy drained her glass. ‘My father never got over the disappointment.’

‘Well, he was a bloody idiot, then, wasn’t he?’ The statue was moving. Amy gasped in horror as the figure stepped from the shadows. Even in this dim light she recognised him. He was still wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket. Amy’s gaze travelled up to meet his. She felt that odd physical buzz again. The only eye contact in existence with the ability to caress. There could be no doubt at all, even in her fuzzy state. It was definitely the same man.

‘You’ve been following me around all day,’ Amy said accusingly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I heard there was a party.’

Amy eyed his clothing suspiciously. ‘Were you invited, then?’

The man grinned. ‘No. I’m gatecrashing.’

Amy narrowed her gaze. ‘So why are you out here hiding in the garden, then?’

‘I’m still trying to decide whether I want to go in or not.’ He stepped closer. ‘Do you think I should?’

‘No.’ Amy tilted the bottle towards her glass. ‘It’s not much fun.’ The slosh of champagne missed her glass and foamed over her hand.

‘Here, let me.’ The man took the bottle from her hand and held the glass as he filled it. Then he took a long swallow before setting both the bottle and glass down on the white wrought-iron table. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he took hold of Amy’s hand and wiped it.

‘I’m sorry you’re not having fun,’ he commiserated.

‘So am I,’ Amy agreed wistfully. She looked at her hand. It was dry now but was still being held. Looking up, she found his gaze fixed firmly on her face. His eyes were brown. A lovely, warm, velvety brown. Comforting but disturbing at the same time. ‘Why are you staring at me?’

‘You’re a very attractive woman.’

‘You’ve been staring at me all day.’

‘You’ve been very attractive all day.’

Amy smiled. He didn’t miss a beat. A smooth talker. He was probably very good at kissing, too. Her gaze slid down involuntarily to assess his lips.

‘I’ve been thinking about that myself.’

‘About what?’ Amy murmured. She wasn’t ready to be distracted.

‘About this.’ Smoothly, he moved closer. Bent his head and touched his lips to hers. And there was Amy Brooks, absent without leave from her own engagement party, kissing a total stranger in the summer house. And she had been right. He was very good. Very, very good. Amy didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t care about breathing any more. Who needed air when you had this?

But he did stop. He drew back from her lips slowly. Maybe he didn’t really want to stop either.

‘Sent from heaven is right,’ he said in awed tones. The soft brown gaze was locked on Amy again. ‘You are an angel.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Must be something in the air. I hear that Nigel is announcing his engagement to some poor woman tonight.’

The observation had all the effect of a cold shower. ‘He is,’ Amy confirmed curtly. ‘And I’m the poor woman.’

The man let go of her as if he’d been burnt. He took a step back. ‘What the hell were you kissing me for, then?’

‘I wasn’t,’ Amy denied hotly. ‘You were kissing me.’

‘You let me.’

‘So it’s all my fault?’ Amy queried sweetly. ‘Typical!’

‘You must be mad,’ the man told her.

‘Why, because I let you kiss me? I might be inclined to agree with you there, mate.’

‘Because you’re planning to marry Nigel Wesley.’ The gaze, still fixed on Amy, darkened. He actually looked angry. ‘What’s the attraction?’ he asked unpleasantly. ‘Money?’

‘Of course not,’ Amy snapped. ‘And it’s none of your business.’ He wasn’t the only one who could get angry. ‘Just what gives you the right to express opinions on something you know absolutely nothing about?’ Amy snorted incredulously. ‘What is it about me? Even a perfect stranger thinks he can tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing.’ Amy snatched up the bottle of champagne and her glass.

‘Stay out of it,’ she ordered imperiously. ‘And stop…’ She glanced over her shoulder, causing her progress down the path to weave quite dramatically. ‘Stop staring at me.’

Amy sailed back into the house, through the conservatory towards the drawing room. Jennifer was standing in the breakfast nook near the entrance to the kitchen. A waiter stood beside her holding a large silver tray covered with bite-sized savouries.

‘What’s in the little round ones?’ Jennifer was asking.

‘Satay chicken.’ The waiter seemed to be enjoying the attention.

‘And the triangles?’

‘Sun-dried tomatoes, feta cheese and olives.’

‘Have you found Noel yet?’ Amy asked Jennifer.

‘No, but I forgive you anyway, Amy. These things are delicious. Have some satay chicken.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ Amy stated. She eyed the mass of humanity visible through the double doors of the drawing room. Nigel’s face appeared. He frowned at Amy. Amy sighed loudly.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jennifer spoke around a mouthful of filo pastry. She grabbed another savoury from the platter as the waiter moved towards the door. He nearly collided with Nigel.

‘Amy, where on earth have you been? Lorraine’s waiting to make the announcement.’

‘I’m sure she can wait a bit longer,’ Amy said evenly. ‘Or is it getting a bit close to dawn?’

Jennifer sputtered over the remains of her pastry. Nigel’s frown deepened.

‘What?’ His expression changed to one of calculation. ‘How much have you had to drink tonight, Amy?’

‘Not much,’ Amy lied. ‘In fact, I think I’ll have some more.’ She reached out and collected a full crystal flute from the silver tray another waiter was taking into the gathering. Goodness knows what she’d done with the bottle and glass she’d been holding a few minutes ago.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ Nigel told her.

‘Amy’s quite capable of deciding when she’s had enough to drink,’ Jennifer informed Nigel.

‘That’s right.’ Amy nodded. ‘To tell the truth, I’m getting a little bit fed up with other people deciding things on my behalf.’

‘Good for you, Amy,’ Jennifer said encouragingly.

‘Yes, good for you,’ a voice echoed.

Amy swivelled sharply. There he was again! In the kitchen!

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Nigel queried coldly.

‘That’s just what I was going to ask,’ Amy said in surprise.

‘Shut up, Amy.’ Nigel was glaring at the intruder.

‘I beg your pardon? You can’t speak to me like that, Nigel.’

The man nodded calmly. ‘Damned right he can’t. You tell him, Amy.’

Jennifer grinned at the stranger. ‘I think I like you,’ she announced.

The catering staff had all paused in their tasks. They were staring openly at the scene unfolding before them in the breakfast room.

Nigel took hold of Amy’s arm. ‘Come with me,’ he ordered curtly.

‘No,’ Amy protested but her legs were too wobbly to cooperate. She found herself being pulled across the hallway and into the throng of guests. Her support team had vanished. She was in enemy territory again. Gaps appeared in the crowd as Nigel moved purposefully forward. Greetings and conversational openings were acknowledged merely by a brisk nod from Nigel. Then the progress halted abruptly. Nigel’s registrar, Noel Fenton, was standing in front of them.

‘Noel,’ Amy said happily. ‘Jen’s been looking for you.’

‘Jen? Who’s Jen?’

‘Never mind,’ Nigel snapped. ‘Listen, Noel. Amy needs to go home. She’s over-indulged a little. Can I leave it to you to—?’

‘Jennifer Bowman, my flatmate,’ Amy told Noel earnestly. ‘She’s very keen to meet you and I promised—’

‘Amy!’ Nigel gave her arm a shake.

Amy jerked away from his hand. ‘Don’t shake me, Nigel,’ she warned sharply. ‘And don’t tell me to shut up again either.’

Lorraine glided into view. Her voice was deceptively light. ‘Goodness me! What is going on?’

‘I’ll tell you,’ Amy volunteered. ‘Nigel thinks I’m a sort of puppet. He can shake me and I’ll do whatever he thinks I should do.’

‘Nigel?’ Lorraine’s tone carried a distinct ‘please explain’ message. Amy was delighted to see the composure crack.

‘Nigel thinks I’m going to live in Sydney,’ she told Lorraine. ‘He thinks my job doesn’t matter a damn and I’ll just give it up. Just like that!’ Amy tried to click her fingers but the result was unsatisfyingly muted. She tried again.

Lorraine glanced around them. Several nearby people had fallen silent and were pretending not to be watching. She gave an apologetic laugh. ‘Really, Amy. I think you might be overreacting.’

‘You would think that,’ Amy agreed. ‘But you’re just as bad as he is. You’ve even got my wedding all planned and you didn’t bother talking to me about it, did you?’

More people were listening. The first group had given up any pretence of not being fascinated. They had been joined by Jennifer and the stranger in the leather jacket.

‘I have an announcement to make.’ Amy took a breath, hoping that the loud buzzing in her head might dissipate. She handed her glass to Noel who looked like he was trying his best not to smile.

‘I’m not going to marry you, Nigel,’ Amy said loudly. ‘I’d rather…’ She paused as a wave of dizziness threatened her upright posture.

‘Go, Amy!’ Jen crowed.

Amy smiled lopsidedly. ‘I’d rather go home and stick needles in my eyes,’ she told Nigel.

‘Definitely preferable,’ the stranger agreed. He and Jen exchanged a grin.

‘Going home is certainly a good idea,’ Nigel said coldly. ‘I’ll drive you myself.’

‘No way!’ Amy wagged a finger at Nigel. ‘You’re not doing anything for me, Nigel Wesley.’ She could feel herself swaying. ‘You know what I think you should do, Nigel?’ Amy didn’t wait for a response. Her voice rose triumphantly and she enunciated with dramatic deliberation. ‘I think you should marry your mother!’

Only Amy seemed to find this funny. The silence in the room was now absolute. Even the string quartet in the conservatory had stopped providing any background music. Jennifer and her companion exchanged another glance. Then the man stepped forward.

‘Time to go, Amy,’ he suggested firmly.

Before she could make any kind of protest, Amy found herself swept up in the man’s arms. He turned and strode out of the room. For the first time Amy became aware of the amount of attention she had drawn to herself. Shocked and disapproving faces seemed to be turned on her from every direction.

‘Oh, no!’ Amy moaned. She buried her face in the leather-covered shoulder, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck to make her defensive position more secure.

‘What have I done?’

CHAPTER THREE

AMY BROOKS had ruined her life, that’s what she’d done.

It took until Sunday evening for the physical aftermath of the party to abate completely. By then it was only too clear that the emotional damage was irreparable. While Jennifer had been sympathetic enough concerning Amy’s physical woes, she was demonstrating a sad lack of empathy for Amy’s state of personal anguish. Admittedly, it was fair enough that Jennifer had escaped by working her rostered day shifts on Saturday and Sunday. As far as Amy was concerned, it hadn’t been a matter of vital necessity that Jennifer had accepted the date with Noel Fenton on the Saturday night. And she really didn’t need to look quite so cheerful as she tackled her pile of ironing on Sunday evening.

‘Do you want me to iron a uniform for you as well?’

‘I don’t need one,’ Amy said gloomily. ‘I’m not going to work tomorrow.’

‘Yes, you are,’ Jennifer contradicted. ‘You have to help me pay the rent.’

‘I’ll get another job. I’ll become a photographer’s assistant and spend my days locked in a darkroom.’

‘You love your job.’

‘Not any more, I don’t. How can I even show my face at work? The entire hospital must be talking about me.’

‘Not so far.’ Jennifer was pulling a pair of black tights from the washing basket. ‘These are yours,’ she announced, rolling them up and throwing them to where Amy was sitting, curled up on the end of the couch. Amy caught the tights and dumped them on the pile of unfolded underwear she was accumulating beside her.

‘I’ve ruined my life,’ she said mournfully. ‘Nigel will never speak to me again.’

‘Every cloud has a silver lining, I guess.’ Jennifer was unsympathetic. ‘Here, is this your uniform?’ She held up a crumpled white smock.

Amy nodded. ‘You can have it.’

‘It wouldn’t fit me. Anyway, you’ll need it tomorrow morning.’

‘No, I won’t. I’ll call in sick.’

‘I’ll tell them,’ Jennifer threatened. ‘For God’s sake, Amy. If people do hear about the party they’ll think you’re a hero. Nobody really likes Nigel Wesley.’ Jennifer spread the uniform over the board. ‘Except maybe his mother,’ she added thoughtfully. The iron was picked up but then thumped back onto its holder. ‘He’s the one who should feel embarrassed. He’s the one who got dumped.’

‘I didn’t dump him,’ Amy wailed. ‘It was just a misunderstanding.’

Jennifer began ironing again. ‘I suspect that telling Nigel you’d rather stick needles in your eyes than marry him might just have given him the impression he was being dumped,’ she suggested wickedly.

Amy groaned.

‘Especially when it was done in front of about a hundred people,’ Jennifer continued remorselessly.

Amy closed her eyes. Jennifer ironed in silence for a minute and then sighed with what sounded suspiciously like pleasure. Amy cracked one eye open cautiously. Yes, her flatmate was smiling.

‘It was really quite romantic, you know. It’s a shame you weren’t conscious enough to appreciate it.’ Jennifer sighed again. ‘It was just like that scene in An Officer And A Gentleman. You know, the one where he sweeps his girlfriend into his arms and carries her off through all the people in the factory?’

‘I’m not his girlfriend. I don’t even know the man.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Jennifer said reproachfully. ‘I told you all about him yesterday.’ She eased Amy’s uniform onto a hanger. ‘His name’s Tom Barlow and he’s our new locum emergency department consultant. He’s come from a specialist trauma team in Chicago.’ Jennifer hung the uniform from the top of the door. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t miss all those gunshot and stabbing injuries too much.’

‘Let’s hope he does,’ Amy muttered. ‘He might go away again.’

‘He grew up here. He wanted to come home.’

‘You seem to know an awful lot about him.’

‘He was very helpful when Noel was driving us all home from the party. After we’d poured you into bed, we had a coffee. Tom wanted to know all about you.’

‘And you told him?’ Amy squeaked with indignation as she sat bolt upright on the couch for the first time that evening.

‘Not everything,’ Jennifer said soothingly. ‘In fact, not much at all, really. It was more your relationship with Nigel Wesley he was interested in.’

‘What relationship?’ Amy groaned.

‘Exactly. He seemed very pleased that you’d ended it.’

‘I haven’t ended it,’ Amy protested wearily. ‘At least, I didn’t mean to.’

‘Tom said the bit he liked the best was when you told Nigel he should marry his mother.’

‘Oh, God,’ Amy breathed. ‘Did I really say that?’

‘You did.’ Jennifer nodded seriously. ‘I was so proud of you. I think Tom was pretty impressed, too. And Noel thought you were great.’ Jennifer beamed at Amy. ‘It’s entirely your doing that Noel has finally noticed me. I’ll love you for ever. He said he’d never been to a more memorable party and he’s really looking forward to working tomorrow.’

‘Why?’

‘He said that Nigel Wesley’s temper can be bad enough on a good day. He reckons that tomorrow might set a record that will go down in hospital history. He promised to take me out for a drink and tell me all about it.’

‘That does it.’ Amy closed her eyes again. ‘I’m definitely not going in to work.’

The emergency department at Queen Mary’s looked just the way it always did. Amy could almost imagine that nothing cataclysmic had happened in her life when she arrived to begin her early shift at 6 a.m. the next day. By 9.30 a.m. she was beginning to forget her dread of being there. So far, there had been no terrible reminders of Friday night. Nobody had said anything. The department was busy and Amy was able to throw herself into her work with an almost normal level of enthusiasm.

The department was busy but not stressed. There were three cases of chest pain, a case of pneumonia, a woman with severe abdominal pain, a young man who’d suffered a seizure, some minor injuries from a car accident and a child with possible meningitis.

‘It’s probably flu,’ the registrar told Amy after he’d checked the toddler. ‘There’s no sign of a rash or any neck stiffness. What’s the temperature at the moment?’

‘Thirty-nine point nine,’ Amy supplied.

‘Has she vomited again since she’s been here?’

‘No. She’s pretty miserable, though, and she’s been knocking her head on the mattress, so her headache hasn’t responded to the paracetamol yet.’

‘She’s a bit dehydrated, which won’t be helping. I think we’ll get some fluids into her IV and admit her to the paediatric observation unit, at least for the day. Can you give them a ring? I won’t put the IV in until we know we’ve got a bed available. I’ll go and check that chest pain in Resus 2 while you sort that out.’

Amy dodged an incoming stretcher and made for the telephone on the sorting desk. She checked the laminated chart on the wall for the extension number she needed and was about to dial when she felt a touch on her elbow.

‘Amy, have you been introduced to Tom Barlow?’

‘No,’ Amy said truthfully. Even before she turned she could feel that tactile gaze from those brown eyes fixed on her. She directed her gaze towards nurse manager Peter Milne. ‘I think I…I saw him around, though,’ she stammered. ‘On Friday.’

‘Tom’s going to be heading the resus team when he’s on duty.’ Peter didn’t seem to notice Amy’s discomfort. He turned to the man beside him. ‘Tom, this is Amy Brooks. She’s the circulation nurse on the team.’

Amy had to look at him now. She had to accept the outstretched hand.

‘I’m delighted to meet you, Amy,’ Tom Barlow said politely. The brown eyes held a disconcertingly amused gleam. ‘It’s not often I get introduced to a genuine angel.’

Peter looked nonplussed but then grinned. ‘Oh, of course. You were here on Friday, when Amy was looking after Patrick.’

Amy pulled her hand free. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy working here, Dr Barlow,’ she managed evenly.

‘Call me Tom. And I expect it will be heavenly.’ Tom’s smile expanded lazily and Peter chuckled.

‘Don’t expect perfection, Tom. While I have to admit I’ve never seen Amy behaving badly, I’m sure it’s not beyond the realms of possibility.’

‘I’m sure it’s not.’

Amy could feel the ominous prickle of embarrassed heat assault her neck. Was he referring to the spectacular scene she’d created at the Wesley household which Peter seemed mercifully unaware of? Or was it the fact that she’d kissed a complete stranger—correction, let a complete stranger kiss her, presumably only minutes away from announcing her engagement to another man. If Amy remembered nothing else with vivid clarity from that disastrous evening, she certainly remembered that kiss. The heat had reached more than her cheeks by the time she’d picked up the phone and dialled the extension number.

‘Hi,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It’s Amy here, from Emergency.’ It felt like tiny flames might erupt from her face at any moment but the men beside her still hadn’t moved away. ‘We’ve got a three-year-old girl here who came in query meningitis. She’s dehydrated and pyrexic. We’d like to admit her for observation and some fluid replacement, at least short term. Have you got a bed available?’

They were finally moving away. Amy took a deep breath and sighed with relief. She didn’t have to look at Tom Barlow again for the moment. With a bit of luck the overpowering internal sensation which the memory of his kiss had again provoked would now fade completely. Amy wished, somewhat desperately, that she never had to look at Tom Barlow again. The memory would be hard enough to banish all on its own.

The music had to be faced some time. Amy might have guessed that the downward slide would begin when Janice Healey came on duty at midday. Start times for shifts in the emergency department were staggered to allow for more continuity of patient care. Jennifer was doing the same shift as Janice today but she’d arrived earlier and was now sitting in the staffroom, sharing Amy’s lunch-break.

‘I hear it was an interesting party on Friday night, Amy.’ Janice was unpacking food supplies from her shoulder-bag.

Amy glanced suspiciously at Jennifer who grimaced ruefully. ‘I think Noel might have been entertaining the other registrars a bit yesterday,’ she admitted.

Janice flicked her sleek bob as she turned to flash Amy an expression of bemusement laced with satisfaction.

‘You must be mad,’ she suggested, looking pleased with her analysis of the situation. ‘There’s no way I’d stuff up an opportunity like that.’ Janice shook her head and opened the small fridge.

‘You never know, Janice,’ Jennifer said kindly, ‘you might just be lucky enough to get an opportunity like that one day.’

‘Luck has nothing to do with it.’ Janice removed someone’s lunch-box from the shelf to make room for her supply of yoghurt and fruit. ‘I have every intention of being married by the time I’m twenty-five.’ She peered at her container of yoghurt. ‘There’s no way I’m going to end up going past my “use by” date.’

‘How old are you, Janice?’ Amy queried.