Erin felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she turned to face him and her heart gave a funny little skip when his eyes met hers.
‘Dr Taylor has developed a habit of sending patients to the ward without adequate pain-relief,’ Arthur Gourlay said. ‘She seems to think—’
‘That is not true,’ Erin jumped in defensively.
‘Arthur, I will handle this,’ Eamon said calmly. ‘I need to speak to Dr Taylor about another matter in any case.’
Arthur gave Erin a pompous sneer. ‘It’s about time someone pulled you into line.’ He strode off down the corridor, muttering under his breath as he went.
Eamon swung his gaze to Erin. ‘What was all that about?’ he asked.
Her cheeks were glowing with anger and her body was stiff, as if she was fighting to keep it contained. ‘Arthur Gourlay accused me of not administering pain-relief to a patient this morning,’ she said. ‘But I clearly remember writing it up.’
‘What sort of delay was there before the patient was transferred to the ward?’ he asked, stepping aside to allow an orderly go past with an empty gurney.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I was called to another emergency; a cardiac arrest came in and I was with him for the next hour.’
Another orderly was coming down the corridor, this time with a patient in a wheelchair. ‘Let’s go to the doctors’ room and discuss this out of the hearing of the public,’ Eamon said.
He shouldered open the door a metre or so down the corridor, waiting until she went in first. The room was thankfully empty except for the fragrant aroma of coffee brewing on a machine next to the sink.
‘Coffee?’ he asked.
She hesitated, as if she didn’t want to prolong the meeting any longer than she had to, but he saw the way her eyes glanced at the coffee machine and the little up-and-down movement of her slim throat in anticipation of that first reviving swallow.
‘I’m going to have one, so I might as well pour you one as well,’ he said. ‘How do you have it?’
‘Black.’
‘No sugar?’
She gave him a pointed look. ‘Five fillings, remember?’
He smiled lopsidedly. ‘Right, how could I forget?’ He handed her a mug of the brew and added, ‘Is that why you never smile?’
She took the mug with fingers that fumbled in the handover, her eyes averted from his. ‘I smile when I think it’s appropriate,’ she said. ‘A&E doesn’t seem the place to be grinning like an idiot.’
‘So what’s the deal with Arthur Gourlay?’ Eamon asked after a little pause. ‘He’s seems to have some pretty heavy angst towards you.’
She gave him a direct look. ‘Arthur is like a lot of men with oversized egos. He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get his own way.’
Eamon cocked an eyebrow. ‘Let me guess, he asked you out and you turned him down?’
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘How did you know? Did he say something to you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but I recognise the signs of a man scorned.’
She looked down at the contents of her mug. ‘About last night…’
‘Forget about it. I have.’
She looked up at him, her brown eyes wary. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea.’
‘Dr Taylor,’ he said. ‘We met by chance, we shared a casual meal. That’s all it was: a neighbourly get-together.’
She pressed her lips together. ‘Right. Of course.’ She put her coffee down. ‘I’d better get back.’
‘Before you go,’ Eamon said. ‘The pain-management issue Arthur spoke about—he mentioned this has happened before.’
Her eyes took on that guarded look again. ‘Are you accusing me of something, Dr Chapman?’
‘What would I be accusing you of?’ he asked.
She held his look, her mouth pulled tight. ‘I have followed the drug protocol scrupulously.’
‘No one has suggested you haven’t.’
Erin wondered if she should mention the incident the day before where she couldn’t recall signing the second shot of pethidine for a patient. But surely that would make her look incompetent if she told him she couldn’t remember what she had done and when? ‘I suppose you’re going to say this proves how important your follow-through plan is,’ she said.
‘It’s pretty obvious there are some gaps in the system,’ he said. ‘But that’s why I’m here to sort them out. I noticed you didn’t make it to the second breakfast meeting. We’ll be holding them all week and next until I have each A&E staff member up to date.’
‘I’ve read through the document you gave me,’ Erin said. ‘And, depending on what happens this afternoon, I’ll try and make the ward-round.’
‘I would appreciate it, Dr Taylor,’ he said. ‘By the way, I thought you might like to know, Mrs Haddad—the mother of the young man who died of the stab-wound—has withdrawn her complaint.’
Erin felt her shoulders go down in relief. ‘I’m very sorry for her loss, but I tried everything I could to save him. It was just too late.’
‘I think she came to realise that,’ he said. ‘It’s sad, isn’t it? The waste of a young life—all that potential gone to waste.’
Erin kept her expression blank. ‘There’s enough drug education around to warn people of the dangers.’
He studied her for a moment with that piercing green gaze. ‘You don’t have empathy for someone with a drug problem?’ he asked.
‘Look, Dr Chapman,’ she said, expelling a breath of impatience. ‘There are lots of really ill patients who need our care. People who self-abuse clog up the system and take valuable resources away from others who are unwell through no fault of their own.’
‘It’s not our place to make value judgements on patients who come in for treatment,’ he said. ‘There are a host of reasons why people get hooked on drugs or alcohol. They deserve the same level of care and priority afforded any other patient.’
‘I’m not for a moment saying I would treat anyone differently,’ she said. ‘I just wish more people would take responsibility for their own health.’
‘I understand the frustration; I feel it myself at times,’ Eamon said. ‘But there is only a limited amount of funds to go around. We have to do what we can with what we have.’
There was a beat or two of silence.
Erin heard the ticking of the clock on the wall and the white-noise hum of the refrigerator as it reset its thermostat. She also felt sure she could hear the beating of her heart. It was booming in her chest like a kettle drum with a beat that was as unsteady as it was rapid. She sent the tip of her tongue out to moisten her dry lips, her stomach giving an unexpected little kick of excitement when she saw his gaze slowly descend to her mouth.
Time froze for a moment, and then began to swell with promise…
The door behind Erin suddenly opened and a female voice chimed, ‘Oops, sorry, I didn’t meant to disturb you both.’
Erin turned and faced the female registrar. ‘You weren’t disturbing anything,’ she mumbled, and quickly made her way out the door, her face feeling as if it was on fire.
CHAPTER FOUR
ERIN was in her kitchen feeding Molly that evening when she heard the sliding doors of next door’s balcony open. Her skin automatically tightened, and her heart gave a little thump as she heard the click-clack of footsteps on the tiles.
‘Gosh, Eamon,’ a feminine voice said. ‘It’s an absolutely awesome view from here. I wish you’d let me move in with you. Won’t you reconsider? Please?’
Erin pressed her spine flat against the pantry door as she shamelessly eavesdropped.
‘No way, Stephanie,’ Eamon said, although his tone was full of warmth. ‘We’d be at each other’s throats within days.’
‘You’re so heartless,’ the young woman said. ‘I don’t know why I still love you.’
‘It’s your job, that’s why,’ he said.
Erin silently fumed. What an arrogant playboy! No doubt he had woman after w
oman hanging around for his attention. How annoying, if she was going to have to listen to him every night wooing his latest conquest. She had thought the dope-smoking university students were bad, but living next door to a modern-day Lothario was going to be completely sickening. What if she had to listen to him…? Oh no, don’t even think about it, she reproached herself sternly. She would get some heavy-duty earplugs and turn up the music or something.
All went quiet for a moment and Erin edged away from the pantry door and sneaked a peek. Her eyes rounded in shock and disgust. The girl called Stephanie was barely out of her teens. What a jerk!
‘Have you met any of your neighbours?’ Stephanie asked, brushing back her mane of glossy dark hair and looking up at Eamon coquettishly.
Erin stiffened.
‘Yes, I have, actually.’
‘And?’ Stephanie planted one hand on her hip and tilted her head at him.
‘And it’s none of your business,’ he said. ‘Anyway, she might be listening.’
Erin sucked in a breath and quickly flattened herself back against the pantry door.
‘She?’ Stephanie’s voice rose. ‘There’s a woman living next-door? How old? What does she look like? Is she single? Is she nice?’
Eamon laughed. ‘“She” is one of the doctors at Sydney Met.’
Completely heartless, Erin thought. Had he no consideration for poor Stephanie’s feelings? What if the poor girl was in love with him? After all, she had practically begged him to allow her to move in with him.
‘Come on, Eamon,’ Stephanie pleaded. ‘Tell me the rest. You could be dating her for all I would know.’
As if! Erin thought.
‘One shared curry hardly constitutes a date,’ Eamon said.
‘So you’ve had dinner with her?’
Erin couldn’t quite make out the tone of Stephanie’s voice. She didn’t sound disappointed—incredulous, perhaps, but certainly not heartbroken.
‘Just the once but it didn’t go so well,’ Eamon said. ‘Anyway, she’s not my type. She’s uptight and prickly. And she’s stubborn.’
Stephanie laughed. ‘Ho, ho, ho, Mr Kettle, have you checked out your shade of black lately?’
‘Cute,’ Eamon said in a droll tone. ‘Real cute.’
‘Seriously, though, Eamon,’ Stephanie went on. ‘Is she pretty?’
Erin held her breath.
‘So-so,’ Eamon said. ‘If you go for that girl-next-door look.’
So-so? Erin fumed. So-so?
Stephanie chuckled again. ‘So, when do you think I can meet her to check her out for myself?’ she asked.
‘Well, if you stand over here where I’m standing, you can get quite a clear view of her,’ he said.
Erin’s eyes widened, and her heart gave a sideways lurch as she turned her head and encountered Eamon’s amused emerald gaze.
‘Come on out, Dr Taylor,’ he said with a knowing smile. ‘I’d like you to meet my youngest sister.’
His sister? Erin felt her colour rise to the roots of her hair as she peeled herself away from the pantry door. She squared her shoulders with what little pride she had left, and, sliding the doors fully open, walked out onto the balcony.
‘Dr Taylor, this is my sister Stephanie,’ he said. ‘Steph, this is Dr Taylor.’
Erin put out her hand to the young girl. ‘Nice to meet you. But please call me Erin.’
Stephanie beamed and shook Erin’s hand vigorously. ‘Lovely to meet you too, Erin. I’ve been hearing all about you.’
Erin shot a telling glance in Eamon’s direction. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘So have I.’
Eamon gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘Would you like to join us for dinner?’ he asked. ‘Steph’s cooking. I’m pretty sure she won’t poison you.’
Stephanie gave him a mock scowl before she turned back to Erin. ‘Oh yes, please do join us,’ she said. ‘I’m doing a hospitality course. I’m trying out my recipes on Eamon. I’ve brought heaps of ingredients, so there’s no shortage of food.’
Erin took a step backwards. ‘I don’t want to intrude on a family get-together or anything.’
‘It’s not a family get-together,’ Stephanie assured her. ‘If it was I would warn you to bring earplugs, right, Eamon?’ She shone her winning smile at her big brother.
Eamon grinned back and playfully ruffled Stephanie’s hair. ‘They don’t make earplugs thick enough to block out the Chapman sisters.’ He turned his gaze to Erin. ‘When the three of them are together, they make a heavy-metal band sound like muzak.’
Erin moved her lips in what was almost a smile. ‘It must be lovely to have siblings.’
‘Are you an only child?’ Stephanie asked.
‘Um…yes,’ Erin said, conscious of Eamon’s steady, watchful gaze.
‘I used to long to be an only child,’ Stephanie said musingly. ‘All that attention, all those presents, not having to share anything and no hand-me-downs.’
‘You haven’t worn a hand-me-down in your life,’ Eamon commented wryly.
Stephanie pouted and gave her brother a playful punch on the arm as she moved past. ‘I’m going to check on dinner. Go and open the door for Erin or, better still, lift her over the partition. I’ll open some wine for us.’
‘How about it, Dr Taylor?’ he asked with that same unreadable smile playing about his mouth. ‘Do you want to come in the front door or over the balcony?’
Erin ran her tongue over her lips. The thought of those strong brown arms helping her over the partition was a lot more tempting than she wanted to admit. Her mind began to race with images of him lifting her off her feet, holding her against his rock-hard abdomen; the heat of his body seeping through her lightweight clothing. ‘Er…I need to freshen up,’ she said, brushing an imaginary strand of hair away from her face. ‘I’ll be five minutes or so.’
His gaze held hers for a nanosecond longer than she could comfortably handle. ‘It’s a date.’
Erin rummaged through her wardrobe impatiently, tossing clothes on the bed only to toss them to one side in frustration. When was the last time she had bought something new, for pity’s sake? She had seen the casual but elegant clothing Eamon’s sister was wearing; each piece had probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. She had taught herself to be frugal over the years. She’d had to ignore fashion trends during her teens; it had been enough to get food in her stomach, and even then it had been pretty hit-and-miss. Even now she had money she still wasn’t really into the whole shopping thing. She felt too self-conscious; a part of her was frightened she would choose something too young for her, or tarty, like her mother always did.
Erin kept things plain and simple but there were times, especially like these, when she longed to feel more at home with her body, confident enough to wear close-fitting and feminine clothes like other women her age. She was lucky to be naturally slim, and she exercised regularly for the stress relief it gave her. But drawing attention to herself was something she wasn’t used to doing; if anything, she did the opposite. Could she break a lifetime habit even if she wanted to?
In the end she settled for basic black: trousers and a shirt, which were both chain-store but comfortable. And, rather than pull her hair back tightly, she scooped it up in a looser style, letting a few strands fall about her face to give her a softer, more feminine look. She managed to eke the last contents of a wand of mascara over her lashes, and, with a smear of lipgloss and a quick spray of her only perfume, she gave Molly a wish-me-luck pat and left.
Eamon opened the door to her soft knock. ‘Hi, glad you could make it,’ he said, sweeping an assessing gaze over her.
She stepped over the threshold, carrying her keys and a box of chocolates. ‘Something smells nice,’ she said, handing him the chocolates. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t have a bottle of wine in the cupboard.’
‘These are great,’ he said, taking them from her.
She shifted her weight. ‘I didn’t buy them,’ she confessed. ‘A patient gave them to me.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Male.’
He lifted his brows. ‘Your bedside manner can’t be all that bad, then.’
She gave him a dry look. ‘When you’re an eighty-nine-year-old widower who has lived alone for twenty-odd years and dying of prostate cancer, I guess anyone who stands by the bed is going to make an impression.’
Eamon smiled. ‘You’re being too hard on yourself, Dr Taylor.’
‘What’s with the formality, Eamon?’ Stephanie asked as she poked her head around the door of the kitchen. ‘Call her Erin, for goodness’ sake. It’s such a cool name, unlike Steph-an-ie.’ She dragged out the syllables with a roll of her eyes.
‘I think it’s a lovely name,’ Erin said. ‘But do you prefer it shortened to Steph?’
‘Friends and family call me that, so that would be cool if you do too,’ Steph said. ‘Hey, bro, can you find me the garlic crusher?’
‘Do I have one?’ Eamon asked, looking somewhat bewildered.
Erin watched the interplay between Eamon and his youngest sister and felt an ache deep inside for what she had missed out on in not having had a family unit to grow up in. There was an ease about Eamon and his sister, a companionship and camaraderie that was unlike anything she had experienced. Steph obviously adored her big brother and Eamon, although his manner at times was teasing, was clearly protective and very proud of her.
‘One garlic crusher.’ After rattling through several drawers, Eamon handed it to his sister like a surgical implement.
‘Good boy. Now, pour Erin a glass of wine and take her into the lounge,’ Steph directed. ‘Oh, and don’t talk about work!’
Eamon winked at Erin as he scooped up two glasses and a bottle of wine from the bench. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re better out of the way, believe me.’
Erin followed him into the lounge area, which was larger than hers. The decor was minimalist but stylish, reminding her yet again of the different worlds they had come from.
‘So,’ he said, handing her a wineglass. ‘If not work, what shall we talk about?’
Emergency Doctor and Cinderella Page 5
