Scandal In Sydney: Sydney Harbour Hospital: Lily's Scandal

‘Pansies grit teeth,’ Tom said, though the expression on his face said the pain was bad. ‘Me and Lily aren’t pansies.’

‘You and Lily can face the world with your heads held high,’ Luke said. ‘Pansies? I don’t think so. Heroes, both of you.’

‘It’s our Lily. I’m just lying here thinking of England.’

‘Well, think of England a while longer,’ Tom said. ‘I need to get the paddock cleared for the chopper. Harbour Hospital, here we come.’

‘Hey, we might even be in time for Teo’s party,’ Lily managed, desperately striving for lightness. ‘Tom, there’s a party on the beach tonight. You want to get stitched up and come?’ They all knew how impossible it was, but the thought was a good one.

Tom groaned. ‘Parties,’ he whispered, trying to sound withering. ‘Mind, if alcohol’s involved, I wouldn’t mind a wee drop.’

‘Neither would I,’ Lily said, with meaning. ‘And not so wee at that.’

The helicopter arrived soon after with a team of paramedics from the Harbour who knew Luke by name.

Jack Stephens, trauma specialist, was in charge. The team must have understood the call was deadly serious to have sent a physician of Jack’s standing. In her two nights in the Harbour Lily already knew this guy’s reputation and he was with a team who were just as awesome. They worked with competence and speed, and a light-hearted banter that made Tom relax as nothing else could.

‘For years we’ve been trying to wangle an invitation to see the place where Luke hides out,’ Jack told Tom as he replaced IV saline with blood product and set up another line in case of need, then checked Lily’s position and placed a hand on her shoulder—a silent message not to move. ‘Thanks for organising it. I guess you’re not quite up to guided tours.’

‘Maybe another time?’ Tom said weakly, and Luke gripped his hand and held.

‘Don’t agree to anything,’ he urged. ‘This guy’s a freeloader from way back. He’ll have conned you into bed and breakfast in no time.’

‘I’m guessing it’s you who needs the bed and breakfast,’ Jack told Tom. ‘Let’s get you back to the Harbour.’ He cast an uncertain look at Lily, looking closer at where her hand lay. ‘And I’m thinking we’re taking Lily as well. You’ve got a pulsing artery there, Tom. Lily has her hand on exactly the right spot and it’s hard to reach. If we try to clamp it here we risk more blood being spilled and you’ve made enough of a mess already. Lily, can you stay where you are while we work around you?’

Luke made an involuntary protest. To have Lily hold that position during transfer.

But it was the only way. Where she was now, not only was she holding the blood flow back but somehow she’d lucked onto a position where a tiny amount of blood was seeping through to Tom’s foot. To take Lily away, to slice down, to tie off the artery, keeping the blood supply to the foot uncompromised …

It had to be done in a well-equipped theatre to give Tom any chance of keeping his leg, as well as his life.

‘I’ve never ridden in a helicopter,’ Lily said. ‘Cool.’

She was amazing, he thought. She was as pale as a ghost, still shaken by gastro. Her jeans were blood-soaked and she was only wearing a bra on top. She wasn’t moving. She knew what needed to be done and she was doing it.

‘We can’t fit you in as well,’ Jack told him, and grinned at the look on Luke’s face. ‘This is cool indeed. Our team has the whole ride back to grill Lily and Tom about our Dr Williams’s secret love life and secret farm life. The hospital’s been bursting with questions since Wednesday. Now, you, Luke Williams, can butt out and calmly drive your poncy little car back to the Harbour while we do our interrogation as we ride in real transport. We’ll do our best to save your uncle’s leg while we’re at it. By the way, you might want to stop and collect pyjamas for your uncle on your way. That’ll give us more time to interrogate. Okay, guys, let’s move.’

The Aston Martin, loaded now with two subdued dogs, took a lot more time getting back to the road than it had taken getting to his uncle.

He’d hit a couple of small trees, bush-bashing in his desperation to get back to Tom and Lily. His front fender was bent. He stopped at Tom’s house and had to do a bit of rebending in order to protect the wheel. He didn’t want any hold-ups on the way back to hospital.

He was thumping the fender one last time when his neighbour Patty arrived, looking scared.

‘I saw the chopper,’ she said. ‘From the Harbour. What’s happened?’

He told her, and she offered to pack Tom’s bag while he got the car sorted.

‘I’ll take care of the dogs and the rest of the place as well,’ she said. ‘Tell him Bill and I will drop in and see him as soon as he’s well enough for visitors.’

‘He won’t want—’

‘He always says he doesn’t want,’ she said. ‘But what men say and what men mean are different things. Like telling me he doesn’t need me bringing him casseroles and pies. Like telling me he doesn’t want you living here. He’s a lying hound but he’s our lying hound so we’d be grateful to have him home safe and sound.’

He left her, but her words stayed with him.

What men say and what men mean are different things …

If he and Lily hadn’t been there today …

Tom couldn’t stay on the farm any more. Not alone. They’d have to find him a live-in housekeeper.

He’d hate it.

Could he finally decide to commute?

Tom would hate that, too. He’d put up with him as a kid, because he’d felt sorry for him. He tolerated Luke owning the place next door and he appreciated his help, but essentially he was a loner.

Tom didn’t want Luke close, like Luke didn’t want anyone close.

Anyone like Lily.

His thoughts should have only been on Tom. Instead they kept drifting to a shadowed girl with bloodstained clothing and a courage that defied belief.

Riding Glenfiddich yesterday.

Holding Tom today.

Facing down the gossip of the Harbour.

Coping with a mother who sounded like a nightmare.

Wasn’t he supposed to be worrying about Tom?

He was feeling sick about Tom. No matter that he was in good hands, there was still a chance …

Don’t go there.

He was going as fast as the speed limit and a slightly buckled Aston Martin allowed. The chopper would be back at the Harbour by now. Jack and his team would be doing their utmost to save Tom.

Would they have released Lily?

She’d go into Theatre with them, he thought. They’d leave her hand in position while Tom was anaesthetised, while they put every tool in place so they could work with speed to cut down, clamp, tie off, without compromising what little was left of the leg’s blood supply.

Then Lily could step away.

He needed to be there when she stepped away.

How fast could he make this car go? Not fast enough.

He hit the phone. Evie.

‘He’s here and he’s still with us,’ Evie said before he could say a word. ‘Jack’s taken him straight through into Theatre. He had everyone lined up before he got here. Finn’s supervising. Judy’s on her way. You have the best surgical team the Harbour can provide.’

‘Lily …’

‘Lily still has her hand in place. We’re not shifting her until we’re sure we can get in fast enough.’

‘Can you be there when she’s no longer needed?’

‘I’ll have one of the nurses—’

‘I want you, Evie,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t ask favours, but I’m asking for one now. She’s had gastro. I’m worried about her as well. It’ll be twenty minutes before I get there. Be there for Lily for me.’

‘If it means that much …’

‘It means that much, ’

‘Well, well,’ Evie said gently. ‘And I thought it was mostly gossip. You really do care. Don’t worry, Luke, of course I’ll be there.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

LILY woke and someone was holding her hand.

That someone was Luke.

She blinked but she wasn’t dreaming. Luke Williams was leaning over, smiling, and he was definitely holding her hand. Her fingers were on the coverlet. His were entwined with hers.

Sunlight was streaming in the window, or rather the rays of a tangerine sunset. She was warm and cosseted and …

Luke Williams was holding her hand.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said softly, and his hold on her hand tightened. ‘I thought you might be intending to sleep until morning. Mind, you have the right.’

His voice was low and husky, tense with emotion. His face was drawn.

It definitely wasn’t a dream. The day’s events flooded back and with it, dread.

‘Tom …’

‘Tom’s fine,’ he said, and he didn’t release her hand by a fraction. ‘Judy Nerolin, our senior vascular surgeon, has decreed his leg will be okay and no one argues with Judy. He’s out of Theatre. He’s still in Intensive Care but all the signs are that he’ll make it and even make it with his leg intact. Thanks to the team from the Harbour—and one amazing nurse. One nurse called Lily.’

‘Hey, I didn’t do anything,’ she said sleepily. ‘Except put my fist in a hole. Like the boy with his thumb in the dyke in Holland. Highly skilled stuff.’

‘You fainted,’ he said ruefully.

‘But not until Judy took over,’ she said with pride. ‘I told myself I couldn’t and I didn’t.’

‘You mean you knew you were going to faint.’

‘By the time they rolled us into Theatre I was feeling a bit light-headed,’ she admitted. ‘But then Dr Lockheart brought me up to this cool bedroom.’

It was indeed a cool bedroom. This suite was for the Harbour’s wealthiest, most influential patients. It was more a suite of rooms than a bedroom.

Dr Evie Lockheart’s family were principal benefactors of this hospital. They were Sydney’s answer to royalty and what royalty decreed, royalty received.

Royalty had obviously decreed Lily deserved this bedroom and Luke wasn’t arguing.

He should pull his hand away. He didn’t.

He’d been sitting here for the last ten minutes, watching her sleep. Her curls were sprawled over the pillows. She was stained and battered.

She’d fought and she’d won. For Tom.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Had Tom taught him nothing?

He remembered the first time Tom had come to collect him from boarding school. It had been his first week there, aged all of ten, and to say it had been ghastly was an understatement.

‘You teach yourself you don’t need anyone,’ Tom had growled. ‘You grow up tough and you stay tough.’

That’s what his father had said when he refused to pay for the removal of the birthmark. ‘It’ll make you tough.’

He’d sent him away, though. Tom had been raised with the same philosophy, had learned the hard way how it worked, but he’d bent the rules.

He’d cared for Luke.

Luke now cared for Tom in a way he hadn’t realised. He’d thought the only person he’d ever fallen in love with was Hannah. It wasn’t true, though. Seeing Tom’s life hang so precariously, he knew he was exposed to pain all over again. And now this slip of a girl, who’d hung on for over an hour, knowing if she moved a sliver of an inch they’d lose …

It was her bravery that moved him, he told himself, not the woman herself, but he knew it was much more.

He thought of her suddenly on Glenfiddich, and the dread surfaced. He thought of Tom and the chainsaw.

When Luke had been fifteen Tom had been bitten by a snake. He’d recovered but Luke remembered thinking, If he dies I have no one.

‘Don’t watch me if you’re worried,’ Tom had snapped, and Luke had been trying not to watch ever since.

It wasn’t working.

‘I’m sorry I overreacted about Glenfiddich,’ he said. ‘Give me another six months to train him and you can ride him all you like.’

‘All by myself?’ she demanded, mock-awed. ‘Will you buy me a stepladder to climb up with?’

‘Lily …’

‘No, it’s a very generous offer,’ she whispered. ‘Sorry. I should have asked before I rode him.’

‘And I should have stayed home with you.’

‘Watching me in case I did anything dangerous?’ she asked, her eyes clouding. ‘Is that the problem? Is that why you can’t stay with Tom—because you can’t bear that he does dangerous things whether you’re watching or not?’

‘That’s deep,’ he said, and tried a smile. ‘Have you been talking to John Allen?’

‘I don’t need a psychologist to figure out something’s wrong. Luke, go away.’

But her hand didn’t disengage from his.

‘You want me to leave?’

‘I need to take a shower. I’m fine. Fainting was just a reaction. Even the strongest woman might have been tempted to faint, so a wuss like me …’

She was laughing again! After all she’d been through …

She was enchanting.

Love …

Whoa. Step away now, he told himself.

Don’t watch.

He could no sooner not watch than fly.

‘I could help you shower.’

‘In your dreams, Dr Williams.’ She grinned. ‘Since when do plastic surgeons shower patients?’

‘Three nights ago a very bossy nurse said I should do just that.’

Her lips twitched. ‘That was some cheek.’

‘I think you’re wonderful.’

The laughter in her eyes faded. She met his look square on. ‘Luke, don’t.’

‘Don’t?’

‘You want me to share your apartment for a month. That’s not going to work if you make me feel …’

She didn’t finish but he knew what the words were.

Their eyes locked, and something was happening. A link, a connection, growing stronger every second.

He wanted to lean forward. He wanted to take her in his arms and …

The door opened and Lily flinched. He pulled back, not sure whether to be glad or sorry.

No. He was definitely sorry.

Evie Lockheart opened the door with caution. She smiled as she saw him, and she smiled even wider when she saw Lily was awake.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘We were worried about you. Nurses collapsing in Theatre does our safety record no good at all.’

Lily smiled back, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need to be sorry. The whole hospital’s in awe of what you did. Saving Luke’s uncle …’ She glanced at Luke and grinned. ‘And the hosital’s on fire with the story. In one fell swoop we’ve met your lady, your uncle and your farm. Where’s your precious privacy now?’

‘Shot to pieces,’ Luke admitted.

But Evie was focusing on Lily. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine.’

‘You don’t look fine.’

‘Because I’m covered in blood,’ Lily said with dignity. ‘If I could have a shower …’

‘I’ll send a nurse to help you.’

‘I don’t need—’

‘Tell me what you need when I’m interested,’ Evie retorted. She elbowed Luke out of the way and felt Lily’s pulse.

‘She’s had gastro,’ Luke reminded her. ‘The plan was for her to rest this weekend.’

‘Yeah, like that worked,’ Evie said dryly, assessing Lily with professional concern. ‘You’re too thin.’

‘I’m always thin.’

‘No other symptoms?’

Lily hauled her hand away and tucked it under the covers. ‘I’m okay. Honestly, gastro and this afternoon would make anyone faint.’

‘I guess.’ Evie turned to Luke. ‘Look after her.’

‘I will.’ And he surprised himself by how much he meant it. ‘She won’t let me help her shower, though,’ he complained, and Evie grinned.

‘Good. She needs to rest.’

‘I wouldn’t …’ He practically blushed.

‘You’re male,’ she said darkly. ‘Of course you would. I’m with Lily. I’ll send in a nurse.’

‘I don’t need help,’ Lily said.

‘You’ll take it. Shower and back to bed for the night.’

‘I’m going home,’ Lily said, and then hesitated. Home. The word had connotations for them both.

But Evie was being efficient. It was up to him to be the same. ‘I’ll collect you as soon as you’re clean,’ he said. ‘I’m going to check on Tom but I’ll be back in half an hour, Lily. I’ll bring the car to the discharge area.’

‘I’m not a patient.’

‘No,’ Evie said. ‘You’re a heroine. The Harbour takes a while to accept people as its own, but what you’ve done this afternoon … you’re now one of us, like it or not. We might gossip, we might be in your face, but we do look after our own. Luke takes you home or you stay here, like it or not.’

‘Fine,’ she said helplessly. ‘I mean, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Evie said, and grabbed Luke’s arm and steered him out of the room. ‘Expect a nurse. Luke, let’s leave the lady to get on with what she needs to do.’

The nurse took a while to come. That was fine by Lily. She watched the sun set over the distant harbour and she felt as if she was floating.

Luke was taking her home.

She could still feel the pressure of his fingers on hers. He didn’t know his own strength, she thought.

He’d almost kissed her.

She’d wanted him to.

Which was really dumb. It must be because she was still tired and overwrought. Today—or, to be honest, the last few days—had taken it out of her.

Her stomach still hurt. Stress?

Maybe she should have said something to Evie.

No. She simply needed to give herself time to get over the gastro. To get over today. And more, she needed to stop stressing.

How could a girl do that when she was heading to Luke’s apartment? What had she got herself into?

She sighed and closed her eyes. At least her mother wasn’t here, and with that thought came more. How was her mother coping?

Her father’s voice … ‘You will look after her?’

She was so tired.

A young nurse peeped round the door. ‘Dr Lockheart said you’d like help to shower. Dr Williams has given me a bag with some clothes. Are you up to showering now? Dr Lockheart says if you’d like to have another sleep first then Dr Williams will wait.’

‘No,’ she said, pushing herself upright. Reluctantly. ‘No, it’s okay. I need to go home.’

Wherever home was.

Home with Luke?

‘So why’s she looking like she’s been hit by a train?’

To say Evie was blunt was an understatement. She said things as she saw them.

‘She had gastro.’

‘You and I both know gastro doesn’t make you look like that. There’s no underlying medical problem? She went out like a light in Theatre. She scared the hell out of Judy.’

‘She’s been under strain.’

‘Because of your relationship?’

‘Will you butt out?’ He turned to face her head on. Finn had labelled her Princess Evie. The staff still called her that, not to her face but as a gentle reminder to themselves of the power she wielded. Evie was one doctor among many, but her family money meant she was unsackable. Her grandfather had brought her in here when she was tiny, she’d practically lived in his office and she thought of the place as home.

So this hospital was her home and she didn’t like mess. She was trying to tidy Lily up, he thought. Pigeonhole her. Figure exactly where she fitted.

‘She almost looks abused,’ Evie said conversationally, and he practically spluttered.

‘You’re accusing me of abusing … my girlfriend?’ It took him a while to find the last two words but he managed it.

‘I’m not saying anything of the kind,’ Evie said. ‘That’s why I’m asking. I said almost. What other explanation is there?’

He groaned inwardly. There was no way she’d leave this now; no way she’d stop pestering him. If he didn’t give her what she wanted then he had no doubt she’d march right back and ask Lily. If she thought a woman was in trouble …

She might be Princess Evie, but she had courage and honour.

Almost as much as Lily?

He had to give her the truth, he thought, or as much as he needed to divulge to get her off both their backs.

‘Lily’s having trouble with her mother,’ he said. ‘Major trouble.’

‘Illness?’

‘Her mother’s stolen her savings and has taken up with the local vicar. And if you repeat that to a soul I don’t care who your family is, I’ll hang you out to dry. I imagine Lily would kill me if I told anyone.’

Evie stared at him, stunned. ‘All her savings …’

‘Yep.’

‘So that’s why she’s finally staying with you. Oh, the poor girl.’

‘I’m fixing it,’ he said heavily.

‘You’re fixing it?’

‘As much as she’ll let me.’

‘You?’ she said, and he wondered what exactly the staff did think of him.

‘Leave it,’ he said, and her face creased into a smile.

‘Our Luke, fixing it,’ she said happily. ‘How about that? Falling for a woman with problems.’

He wasn’t.

Or wait … maybe he was.

He needed to get things in perspective.

He wasn’t sure what perspective was.

‘Luke, while you’re in fixing mode …’ Evie said

And he thought, Uh-oh, here we go. He did not have this kind of conversation with Evie. He didn’t have this kind of conversation with anyone.

Did Evie suddenly think he’d changed?

‘It’s Finn,’ she said. ‘I’m worried.’

Here was another jolt. Evie wasn’t a worrier; she was a brisk, efficient doctor with the weight of the Lockheart fortune behind her.

Finn.

The niggle of worry he’d been feeling about his friend surfaced again, and turned into something more substantial.

But this was Finn Kennedy they were talking about, and no matter how much money Evie’s family had, he wouldn’t thank Luke for crossing boundaries. A junior doctor was talking to him about his boss. ‘I don’t think he’d thank you for worrying about him,’ he said dryly.

‘You’re his friend,’ Evie snapped.

Was he? Finn didn’t do friends. Still … He’d been there when Finn had been released from the army. He’d spent time with him whether Finn wanted him or not. The number of bottles of single malt they’d consumed …

There was a good reason why Finn had hit the bottle, Luke conceded. His brother had died in front of him. He’d been wounded himself. There was trauma, deep and never spoken of.

He didn’t want to get involved.

Too late. He already was.

‘So why are you worried?’ he growled, and started walking again, but Evie took his arm and made him stop. Here in the carpeted corridor of the private suites they could have some privacy.

‘He dropped his clipboard.’

He dropped his clipboard. He let her words sink in. There wasn’t a lot of basis there for worry.

But this was Evie, talking about Finn. Evie didn’t do worry lightly.

Evie and Finn sparked off each other. Evie gave as good as she got. They’d make a good pair, Luke thought, but, wow, there’d be some fights.

Maybe that’s what Finn needed. Fights. Someone to stand up to him.

His thoughts were flying tangentially. He was thinking about Finn. He was thinking about Tom.

He was thinking about Lily.

He didn’t do personal concern. Or he hadn’t. Suddenly he was surrounded on all sides.

In half an hour he had to take Lily home. Put her back into his bed. Make her something to eat …

Keep her safe.

No. Focus on Finn. Of the three worries, this was the easiest.

‘Tell me what you’re worried about.’

Evie exhaled and he thought this seemed liked a major decision, to talk to him about it.

‘Wednesday night … he was walking down the corridor in front of me, carrying patient notes in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Heavy pile in the left. Clipboard in the right. He dropped the clipboard. I … We’ve been a bit tense with each other so I stood back; hoping he wouldn’t turn around and see me. He stared down at the clipboard and then he stared at his hand. Swore. He set the notes down, put the clipboard on top of the notes and lifted them all in his left arm. Then he kept going, everything in his left arm, his right arm sort of tucked against him. And, Luke … yesterday in Emergency we had a guy who needed urgent stitching and I was flat out. Finn was passing. You know how he’s always passing. I called for help and he stitched for me. It was tricky. This was a guy’s face but Finn’s good. Anyway, fifteen minutes later I finished what I was doing, went to the cubicle where Finn was working and he handed back over to me. “This is your job,” he snapped. Okay, that’s his usual style. But, Luke, I’d swear his right hand was trembling.’