скачать книгу бесплатно
He left for the men’s changing-room, and Cassie finished scrubbing and went into the operating-room.
The first patient was a woman of thirty-seven, who was having a hip replacement following deterioration of her joint with recent pregnancies. She had had Perthes’ disease as a child, and after she had slipped and fallen out of a tree at the age of eleven the subsequent displacement of the head of the femur had been corrected with surgery.
Now, twenty-six years later, the joint had finally and literally ground to a halt and was to be replaced.
Nick and Cassie were looking at the X-rays when Miles Richardson, the consultant in charge, popped his head round the door and grinned.
‘OK? How’s the new boy? I gather young Armitage has been under the weather and you’ve had to take over the weekend. Sorry about that — went to the wife’s parents’ for a night or two, or I would have done it myself.’
Nick’s smile was rueful. That’s all right, sir. No problem. Might as well start with a bang.’
‘Good chap — happy on this one? Nasty mess on the radiograph — need to be a bit ruthless, I feel. Left it rather long. Ah, well, off to the wards. See you later.’
The door swooshed shut behind him, and Nick turned to Cassie and smiled.
‘Shall we?’
It was, as Richardson had predicted, a nasty mess, and it taxed all Nick’s skill to position the joint to his satisfaction.
Once again, working with him was a joy. They were perfectly in tune, their minds and bodies in total harmony, and, when he shifted against her, as well as the thrill of awareness, there was a wash of familiarity and happiness.
They exchanged glances over their masks, and she knew he felt it, too. And somehow acknowledging it made it easier to ignore, to subdue and dismiss, so that it just became a part of working with him, like the smell of his soap and the deeper, more natural smell of his skin, warm and faintly musky.
They finished that hip, and then the arthroscopy on the knee of a young amateur footballer with meniscal tears.
The last job, the thumb, was an untreated fracture of the scaphoid that had resulted in non-union of the detached fragment and consequent loss of movement in the thumb. It took time to sort out, but Nick took the time, and only finished when he was satisfied.
‘Sorry about that, it was rather trickier than I’d anticipated,’ he said to everyone there, and they murmured an acknowledgement and disappeared.
Cassie laughed softly.
‘What?’
‘Trevor would have said there wasn’t time and gone to lunch. The patient would have had to have waited, possibly till tomorrow. Actually, no, he would have finished quicker than you because he wouldn’t have bothered about the first hip to such an extent, and the thumb he would have hardly bothered with at all!’
‘I can’t believe he gets away with it,’ Nick murmured.
‘He gets away with anything he chooses. Did you hear Richardson? “Under the weather” indeed! We’re all under the weather — difficult to be above it unless you’re in a rocket!’
Nick chuckled. ‘Lunch?’
‘Have we got time?’
He shrugged. ‘A sandwich?’
‘Done. Give me two ticks to change.’
They went down to the canteen and got a sandwich and a cup of coffee each from the snack bar, then slumped in the corner with their feet propped on each other’s chairs and munched in contented silence. Then Cassie looked up.
That’s Trevor’s old man over there — grey hair, navy suit, paunchy, balding.’
Nick eyed him steadily, then nodded. ‘Right. Thanks. I’ll remember.’
There was a coldness about him that Cassie hadn’t seen before, and she suddenly got a bad feeling about the whole business.
‘Nick? You’ll be careful, won’t you? He could wreak havoc with your career.’
Nick laughed softly. ‘That overgrown puffball? My career’s more solid than that, Cassie. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything rash. I’ve got friends in high places, too. The difference is, I don’t choose to use them. Now, about tonight.’
She blinked. ‘Tonight?’
‘Yes — tonight. How about a quiet supper in a bistro somewhere? Nothing wild — I’m still tired after the weekend. I think I’ve done a week’s work in three days.’
‘Then are you sure you want to — ?’
‘Yes — absolutely certain. I’ve missed you.’
She laughed, a little self-consciously. ‘I’ve missed you, too. Silly, isn’t it? I hardly know you — how can I miss you?’
His smile was tender and very dear. ‘I’m glad you do. What time?’
‘Seven?’
He nodded. ‘I should be finished by then. I’ve got a clinic with Miles Richardson this afternoon, to ease me in, but that should be over by six at the latest.’
‘He’s very prompt — a bit of a stuffy old boy, but he’s a dear, really, and very good. Actually you remind me of him a bit when you’re operating — you’re very alike to work with.’
‘You mean you sidle up to him like that and rub yourself against him?’
She flushed. ‘Certainly not — and I don’t do that with you, either!’
He chuckled. ‘No, of course not,’ he teased. He was practically sitting on her foot, so she lifted it slightly and kicked him ever so gently on the back of the thigh.
‘Ouch.’ He grabbed her foot, and before she could wriggle away he slipped off her shoe and tickled her mercilessly.
She shrieked, just as Mary-Jo came and dropped down into the chair beside her.
‘Having fun, children?’
He released her reluctantly, his fingers sliding over the top of her foot with a very different touch, and smiled at Mary-Jo.
‘Hi. Thanks for your help over the weekend.’
‘My pleasure. Trevor’s an idle waste of space, isn’t he? I wonder when he’ll get his comeuppance.’
Nick smiled enigmatically and stood up. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we? Seven, Cassie?’
‘Fine.’
They watched him walk away, and Cassie shook her head. ‘I have a bad feeling about him and Trevor, Mary-Jo.’
‘You do? Me, too. He’s got a hell of a temper under that placid, easygoing exterior, I fancy. Witness the way he ripped into you the first night, without any warning.’
Cassie flushed scarlet and busied herself with the dregs of her coffee. ‘I was miles away.’
‘Mmm — down his trousers.’
She flushed again, even more hotly.
‘Mary-Jo, you’re disgusting.’
‘No — just honest. Hey, I’m just jealous. You two have obviously hit it off really well. Another date tonight?’
‘Another?’
Mary-Jo shrugged and grinned. ‘He turned up in Theatre at three on Sunday morning in a DJ, for God’s sake. Of course the guy had been somewhere. His eyes were wild and he was as crabby as an ousted tom-cat — you didn’t need a degree in psychology to know where he was coming from! Anyway,’ she shrugged again, ‘I asked him.’
Cassie groaned, and Mary-Jo laughed.
‘Hey, it’s OK, kid, I was subtle.’
Cassie laughed out loud. ‘You? Subtle? That’ll be the day.’ She stirred the chilly dregs in her cup again. ‘So … what did he say?’
‘He said he’d kill Trevor when he caught up with him — something about permanently disrupting the man’s sex life.’
Despite herself, Cassie chuckled. ‘I wonder how?’
Mary-Jo gave an evil grin. ‘I dunno — he had a scalpel in his hand at the time. I volunteered to help.’
Cassie laughed again. ‘Get in the queue! I have a vested interest!’
Mary-Jo shot her a keen look. ‘So, things could get pretty serious with you two, then?’
Cassie lifted her shoulders slightly. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.’
Her friend studied her face for a second, and then a broad smile broke out over her features and she nodded slowly. ‘At last. Well, good on you, kid. It’s about time.’
‘Right, that about wraps that up.’ Miles Richardson shut the last file and leant back in the chair, steepling his fingers and studying Nick openly.
‘How’s it going so far?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Fine. No problems.’
‘Trevor?’
Nick looked away and chose his words carefully. ‘I get the feeling he’s not going to be the most cooperative colleague.’
Miles snorted. ‘Jumped-up little toad — he’s a lousy surgeon, a rotten diagnostician and a manipulative snake in the grass. Still, we lose him in three weeks or so — off to A and E to wreak havoc. He’s on general practice rotation, thank God. Think you can cope that long?’
‘If I see this little of him, I would say it’ll be a breeze.’
They exchanged an understanding smile, and Miles stood up.
‘Belinda rang — said would I like to ask you over for supper. Nothing special, just pot luck, but you’re more than welcome.’
Nick hesitated. ‘Er — thank you, that would have been very nice, but I have actually made other arrangements.’
‘Cassie Blake?’
He exhaled sharply, then laughed. ‘Yes — how did you guess?’
Miles winked. ‘Tom-toms. Can’t keep a secret at St Augustine’s. Bring her along, if you like — or would that cramp your style?’
He debated turning the invitation down, but the man was his boss, and he had already got off on the wrong foot with one of the department. Anyway, Cassie had said she liked him …
‘Not at all. Thank you, I will bring her, if you’re sure your wife won’t mind —’
‘No, no — be delighted, dear boy. Cassie’s a charming girl — best damn scrub-nurse I’ve ever worked with. Funny, that —’ he paused pensively ‘— only Trevor’s ever complained about her.’ He shook his head as if in puzzlement, then fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. ‘Here — expect you at seven-fifteen. Think you can find it? It’s just round the corner.’
Nick glanced at the card. ‘No problem — I can always ask someone. Thank you.’
Now all he had to do was break the bad news to Cassie.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c645f91c-ab10-50d9-a568-4bf6b633986c)
‘SORRY about that.’
Cassie smiled at him warmly. ‘Don’t worry, I enjoyed it. They’re a charming couple.’
He wrapped his arm round her shoulders and squeezed her gently. ‘I would still rather have had you to myself.’
His words warmed her, and she slipped her arm up round his waist and hugged him back.
They had walked to the Richardsons’ house, as it was a lovely clear evening. It was cold and crisp, but the stars were bright and their breath frosted on the air. There was very little traffic about on the little side-roads around the hospital, and as they walked back Cassie was very aware of Nick, of the steady crunch of his footsteps, the solid jut of his hip against hers as he matched his stride to hers, his other hand that had found hers on his waist and now clasped it lightly, shielding it from the cold.
It was still early, only just after ten when they arrived back at the hospital, and she sensed his hesitation as they reached the door.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ she asked tentatively.
He paused, as if he was struggling with himself, then nodded. ‘A quick one. I want to talk to you, actually — about Saturday.’
She opened the door and flicked on the light, then busied herself with the kettle.
‘What about Saturday?’ she asked as casually as she could manage. In truth, she didn’t feel very casual about it. She had felt edgy for days, and then today in Theatre had stirred it all up again, only somehow worse. She had actually been relieved when they had gone to the Richardsons’ rather than a bistro where they would have been alone in the crowd, but walking back her awareness of him seemed to have reached new heights.
She felt terribly vulnerable with him, somehow exposed, as if she had behaved rather foolishly and precipitately on Saturday night. She would have given him anything he asked that night — anything at all. For her, at least, what was blossoming between them seemed incredibly precious, something to be cherished and nurtured. She didn’t know quite how she would feel if he didn’t feel the same, but she knew she was being unrealistic. He was a man, after all, and men — well, they were different. They didn’t see and feel things the same as women, and she knew for a fact that he would define her emotions as sentimental clap-trap.
He was clever, though, practised with women. For all her lack of experience she knew that. Knew, too, that he would play the game by the rules and pretend an element of romance and sentiment to satisfy her.
