By My Side

by Wendy Lou Jones

  “Good. I don’t like the thought of some bully of a doctor having a go at my little girl.”

  They sat down in the living room, with its array of songbird figurines and were serenaded by the gentle ticking of the white china clock on the mantelpiece.

  “Who’s having a go at her?” Kate’s dad asked, peering over his book.

  “Just some grumpy old consultant at the hospital,” her mum told him. “Don’t you worry; she’s got it all under control.” She winked at Kate. “Haven’t you, love?”

  “Well, you let me know if you want me to go over there and beat him up for you, won’t you, Kate?” her dad said and she giggled.

  “Absolutely, Dad. You’ll be the first to know.”

  Kate enjoyed what was left of the evening in the reassuring company of her parents and tried to forget about her clash with Mr Elliott. And as the evening turned to night, she remembered the reportedly gorgeous yet elusive Peter Florin and wondered when she was going to get to meet him, so that she might have the chance to judge for herself.

  ~

  Around the same time that Kate was licking her wounds and scheming to try and catch a peep at the new registrar, Mr Elliott was walking into his lunchtime meeting with an irritation formed more from his encounter with the interfering nurse the week before, than his disinclination to hear about recent reviews in protocol. With his authority so rarely challenged, it was all the more startling when it was. He had had long enough to mull over the whole episode many times in his head since then and not once, in all that time, had his part in it gained any credence.

  His conscience was troubling him. The hidden tears he had glimpsed briefly in her eyes, before she had averted her gaze and slipped out of the door, bothered him. He had not meant for it to go so far, but she had fought her corner with such passion that he had actually felt threatened and had barbed his words and fought all the harder. But the thought that he may have been so blinded by his prejudice that he attacked an innocent victim, weighed heavily upon him. He had now made certain the patient had been responsible for the accident, but he should never have lost control like that, with the lad, or the nurse. He had fought so hard to defend his honour, that in doing so, he now understood, he had lost it.

  He admired her, if he was honest. For a nurse to stand up to a consultant, exposing his flaws, took a great deal of strength and conviction, he was sure. Had he really been that callous? He had witnessed the devastation wrought by irresponsible young lads countless times before, so often being the one left picking up the pieces. With Ali, he had even lived it. He felt the burden of his task keenly; duty-bound to tend them, when all he really wanted to do was rage at them for their thoughtless stupidity. But he had thought her magnificent and in recognising this fact came the understanding of his own reaction to her, and with that he was uneasy.

  ~~~

  “He didn’t want to like her?” Lena asked. “How miserable was he?”

  “It seemed so. And he was miserable, you’re right, but he did have good reason.”

  Lena held her gaze for a moment, searching the woman’s expression before she carried on.

  ~~~

  The following week the weather was dismal, the hospital seemed busier than ever and then a call came in.

  There had been an accident on a farm and a man had been trapped inside machinery. He was badly injured and was due to arrive in A&E in five short minutes. The trauma team was called and Mr Elliott arrived at the same time as the anaesthetist on duty that day. They strode into A&E in the direction of Resus One.

  Unaware of his arrival, Kate stepped out of a cubicle right into his path and their eyes locked for a second before someone called out his name and he was gone.

  Kate retrieved the Tubigrip she had been searching for and walked back to her patient, suddenly on edge.

  “Sounds like a lot of commotion going on out there,” the gentleman said as she began to measure his arm.

  “We’re expecting a serious injury any minute,” Kate told him. “They’re just getting ready.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out there with them?” he asked.

  “I’ll go in a minute. I’ve got to finish sorting you out first,” she replied cheerfully.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. You get over there.”

  “Mr Brimley, you’re very kind, but I can’t just abandon you like this. Now, who is going to look after you? You’ll need a bit of help for a week or two until you can use your right arm properly again, won’t you?”

  “My daughter lives only a couple of doors away. She’s on her way here right now. I’ll be well looked after, don’t worry about me. Now go on.”

  Kate finished up and looked at him. “Make sure you keep moving it gently so it doesn’t stiffen up,” she said. “Here’s a leaflet about sprains. I’ll wheel you out to the waiting room and we can see if she’s arrived yet.” Mr Brimley frowned as sirens began to approach. “It’s no bother.”

  They reached the waiting room just as the gentleman’s daughter was walking in. Kate handed the woman her father’s coat and explained about his injury. “So there we are. Take good care of yourself now,” she said. Mr Brimley shooed her away with his one good hand and Kate smiled and hurried down to Resus One to see if she was needed.

  By the time she got there, the patient had arrived. Mr Cobham, the consultant, had assumed control and was barking out orders to the nurses and doctors around him. Mr Elliott was assessing the man’s shattered arm, while the anaesthetist hovered around him, preparing to put the man to sleep, until the injuries to his chest and head could be stabilised.

  There was a lot of noise in there at the time, so Kate found Stacey, the nurse in charge, and asked her if she needed any help. She looked across at Elliott, now talking to his registrar about what he had found and discussing the situation with Mr Cobham, his brow more furrowed than usual.

  Stacey asked how the rest of A&E was doing and Kate told her it was in hand and not too many were waiting. So she asked her to run up to CT and find out how soon they would be ready.

  Kate strode off as quickly as she could, happy to be out of danger, but she was soon back in Resus with the expectations of the team waiting on her. Mr Cobham and Mr Elliott were side by side and both turned round to look at her.

  “Well?” Mr Cobham asked.

  “They’re ready for you now,” Kate said. She felt the hard stare of Mr Elliott burning into the side of her face and so turned back to Stacey, deliberately avoiding his gaze. “Anything else I can do?” she asked.

  “No. Thanks, Kate. If you could hold the fort round the other side while I take care of this end, that would be great.”

  Kate nodded and walked back round to attend to the walking wounded. A few minutes later she noticed the team pushing the trolley carrying the now anaesthetised patient in the direction of X-Ray and breathed a sigh of relief. Elliott was no longer a threat.

  After break, a welcome interlude in an otherwise busy day, Kate assisted Dr Sarah with an old lady in Resus Two, who had slipped over in the street. She had several cuts to the fragile skin of her scalp and arms that required stitching. They took a side each.

  When she was through, Kate looked around for the nearest yellow bin to put her sharps into and noticed something shiny tucked at the back behind a box of gloves, on the side in Resus One.

  Checking with the doctor that she had everything she needed, Kate excused herself and wandered over to see what it was. As she neared the spot Kate realised it was a very elegant pen. She picked it up. There was nothing obvious to suggest who it belonged to. It could have been a patient’s, Kate thought, but most probably it was Mr Cobham’s, so she put it in her pocket for safe keeping.

  Asking around the staff over the course of the evening, nobody came forward to claim it. Time passed quickly as the evening drew to a close and when the night shift arrived, Kate was more than ready to go home.

  Monday morning was run of the mill: broken toes, sprained wrists and cut fingers. The sort of d
ay where you could check your brain in at the door and cruise on through on autopilot. The gloom Kate had been feeling since her grandfather’s funeral had lifted and apart from the barely audible calling of a lonely heart searching for a home, life was not too bad.

  At break time, Kate headed to the canteen with a friend from general surgery. They were talking about the weekend when from behind them came a gruff-sounding voice.

  “Nurse Heath.”

  Kate stopped in her tracks, instantly recognising the abrupt tone of Mr Elliott. Maisie looked round and Kate braced herself for what was to come, but refused to turn around to face him.

  “Kate,” came a warmer note from much closer to hand.

  Kate turned around and there before her stood Mr Elliott. No ice in his eyes this time, but instead, a searching expression. “I understand you may have found my pen?” he asked.

  For a moment Kate was bewildered and then the penny dropped. “Oh, yes,” she said, reaching into her pocket and she pulled out the shiny silver pen she had discovered in A&E. She looked at it and then held it out and Mr Elliott took it. They touched, and as his hand moved over hers, caressing her sensitive fingers with his own, a charge of adrenaline shot up her arm, her stomach began to tremble and her chest struggled to breathe. Their eyes met and in that splinter of a moment, something brilliant shone out between them. Kate pulled back, disturbed by her reaction and saw the self-same look in his eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said. “This pen is very important to me.” He hesitated for a moment as if about to elaborate further, but then he turned and walked away.

  Kate took a deep breath, calming her heartbeat a little before turning back in the direction she had been heading, her feelings quite at odds with the sensations of his touch.

  Maisie was instantly curious. “What were you doing with Mr Elliott’s pen?” she asked, a broad grin on her face and her raised eyebrows suggesting all kinds of mischief.

  “Nothing,” Kate said quickly as she continued briskly on down the corridor, not looking to either side. “I found it last week. I didn’t know whose it was. He must have left it in A&E when he came down for that mangled arm.”

  “You’re blushing; you know that? I thought you hated him? That’s what Jenny said,” Maisie told her.

  “What?”

  “But then Kirst said you thought he was gay.”

  “I did no such thing,” Kate heard herself exclaim. She deliberately hushed her voice in the hope that Maisie would follow suit and repeated the sentence quietly.

  “But you did have a bust-up with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you still wouldn’t shag him if he was the last man on earth?”

  “I think that’s a fairly safe bet, Maisie, yes, but you’re missing the point. I didn’t know it was his pen. I was just tidying up.”

  “Kirst’s with you, you know?”

  “What?”

  “About Elliott’s unshagability.”

  “Maisie!”

  “But she thinks he just can’t get it up. She says he never makes a pass at any women and he’s not trendy enough to be gay, so he must just be a cold fish.”

  Kate was mortified. She didn’t like the chap, not on any level, but it was quite breath-taking how quickly rumour could spread inside a hospital. “I never said he was gay,” she hissed. “Look, can we talk about something else?”

  The change in Elliott’s tone had unsettled Kate profoundly. She found it hard to get the look he had given her, when their hands had touched, out of her mind. He had looked as surprised as she with the shock that rippled through them, confused even by the sensation. Kate would have assumed she had been the only one who’d felt it, but for that look. And then a thought drifted through her mind. He had known her first name. Perhaps he had found it out when he’d complained to her boss about her the previous week, or maybe it was in Resus the other day, but he had definitely called her by her name, ‘Kate’.

  In the canteen, Kate finished her piece of cake and she and Maisie were getting up to leave when a gorgeous doctor walked in. It was crowded in there and so Kate managed to catch his attention as he stood with his tray just beyond the till, searching the room for somewhere to sit. Heads were turning all around as whispers filtered through the air to Kate’s ears. Kate pointed to her table as they picked up their things. The doctor walked over and smiled. Wow, she thought, so that was what all the fuss was about. This had to be the guy. He really did have a winning smile, and such amazing eyes, Kate was almost tempted to stay.

  “We’re just leaving,” she said, not giving herself more time to reflect.

  “Thank you. You’re sure you won’t join me?” he asked, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Maisie started to sit down again, but Kate stopped her.

  “No. We’ve got to get back. Thanks, though.” She smiled at the guy who really was very handsome.

  “I guess I’ll see you around then?” he asked, his eyes shining with expectation.

  Kate nodded and smiled at him. Where was Flis when she needed her? “I expect so,” she said and then dragged Maisie away.

  That night, in bed, Kate thought about the new doctor. He seemed like a kind, decent guy who also happened to be seriously good looking, but try as she might, she couldn’t get Elliott out of her head. She was still angry with him. He was an unfeeling, arrogant bully, but there was something about him…

  The following day, Kate escorted a little girl up to the children’s ward and was horrified to find out just how far the rumours had spread. As she was leaving the ward Kate heard a couple of auxiliary nurses chatting in the cloakroom about Mr Elliott. She heard her name and the expression: ‘doesn’t know what it’s for’ snuck out around the door and Kate paused, guilt climbing high in her chest, but she was at least a little relieved to hear that she had been quoted correctly that time. But if it had got round as far as the children’s ward it must be everywhere by now. She was beginning to regret ever talking about the guy whilst drinking and just hoped the grapevine didn’t spread so far that it would come back around to bite her.

  Wednesday afternoon, Kate was down to assist the registrar in minor ops clinic, so with mask and gloves on, she set up theatre for the afternoon’s list.

  First there was a hand injury, brought in from A&E that morning, which needed the tendons exploring and suturing closed. Second on the list was a large sebaceous cyst from behind an old man’s ear and the third was a lad who had been brought in from X-ray. He had been caught up in a pub fight a couple of nights before and had come in when his arm continued to be painful. There was glass to remove and the wound to explore and clean out and it was during this third operation, with her concentration entirely on the matter in hand, that Mr Elliott stuck his head around the door of Theatre, looking for Mr Cobham.

  Kate was a little shaken by the sudden arrival of Mr Elliott in her calm, clean environment. Dr Penn, the Registrar, barely looked up from what he was doing. He didn’t know, and after a brief glance in her direction, Mr Elliott withdrew. But Kate knew where Mr Cobham was and she wrestled with her conscience, lacking the will to speak up. He wouldn’t recognise her with a mask on, surely?

  “He’s in Physio,” Kate blurted out at the receding figure as he disappeared out of the door.

  Mr Elliott stopped and peered back round at her. “Physio?”

  She nodded.

  “Thanks, Kate,” he said and left.

  The patient looked from the doorway, back up to Kate. “You’ve gone bright pink,” he said. Dr Penn glanced up momentarily and then carried on with his work.

  “Well it gets pretty hot in here, dressed in this lot in the middle of summer,” Kate said and the patient smiled and they continued with their work.

  On Thursday, Kate was on a day off and was with her mum at her granddad’s house cleaning the rooms as they emptied. It wasn’t easy walking around the house that had once been so important to her. It was a sad place now, soulless and hollow. All the t
hings that held any memories had found new homes and the rest had been donated or sold.

  Kate and her mum sat on the empty living room floor and ate their lunch, talking about the good times they’d had there. The new family would be moving in on Monday, so this was their last chance to see the old place before it was no longer anything to do with them.

  Auntie Ann turned up a little after one and joined in with the last few bits of cleaning and then they said their goodbyes to the old place and drove away without turning back.

  They decided to go to Farley’s for a posh tea and cake to cheer themselves up. Kate chose a slice of carrot cake, her mum had a Chelsea bun and Auntie Ann had a big slice of chocolate fudge brownie.

  “How’s it going with Mr Elliott, Kate?” her auntie asked her.

  “Yes, sorry, love. I’ve been so busy with all your granddad’s stuff I forgot to ask,” her mum added.

  Kate didn’t know quite what to tell them, so she decided to try to play it down.

  “Not much to tell,” she said. “I’ve bumped into him a couple of times.”

  “And was he just as obnoxious?” her mum asked.

  “No.” Kate’s voice came out almost surprised, not the way she had planned it at all. “It seems he’s managing to control himself.”

  “Good,” her auntie said. “I told you he wasn’t that bad really. Maybe he was just having a bad day?”

  “Maybe? I can’t seem to work him out.”

  “His poor old mother’s been having a tough time, I’m afraid. We’re trying everything we can, but…” She shrugged. “She’s a lovely woman too. His father left them when he was just a lad, apparently. They’re all each other has got now.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kate asked, concern growing.

  “Bowel cancer. Nasty one. And he’s so patient with us, never gets grumpy, like some of the other relatives can do. Might not want everyone to know about it, though,” she said and Kate nodded to show she understood.

  For the rest of their time together Kate racked her brains trying to reconcile the differing accounts of Mr Elliott, but when she arrived home, she found Sophie sitting on the couch looking shaken and all thoughts of Elliott soon disappeared.