‘I always think those things aren’t nearly so impressive as the good old-fashioned thermometers,’ the girl observed as Elliot carefully inserted an electronic probe into her ear canal. ‘I love it when in the old black and white movies the doctor shakes his thermometer and puts it in his patient’s mouth. It looks real neat.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Elliot said, smiling, ‘but the trouble with the glass thermometers was that sometimes a patient could have drunk something hot or cold before we saw them, which meant the result wasn’t very reliable. And if you had a patient with breathing problems it was pretty unrealistic to expect them to keep their mouths shut while we got an accurate reading.’
‘Or you’d end up with a dead patient, huh?’ Mrs Steel grinned. ‘OK, fair enough, but I still don’t think it looks as impressive as the old thermometer.’
It didn’t, but it certainly confirmed that Mrs Steel’s temperature was higher than it should have been, and the sample Jane had taken also revealed she had a very bad urinary infection.
‘Women’s urethras are much shorter than men’s, which makes it much easier for bacteria to enter,’ Elliot explained after he’d told Mrs Steel she had cystitis. ‘As you’re on your honeymoon, I imagine you’re making love more than normal—’
‘Sure am.’ The girl chuckled.
Lucky you, Elliot thought dryly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made love, and the trouble was there was only one woman he wanted to make love to, and she wasn’t interested. Not interested at all.
‘And as you’re making love more than usual, and your urethra is close to your vagina, the frequency can lead to bruising,’ he continued doggedly, ‘and that in turn leads to infection.’
‘Hey, that doesn’t mean I’m going to have to tell my husband I’ve gone celibate, does it?’ Mrs Steel exclaimed in dismay, and Elliot laughed.
‘Of course not. I’ll give you some antibiotics to take, and if you can drink as much water as possible to dilute your urine, the pain should ease considerably then disappear.’
‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Mrs Steel commented when Jane escorted her out of the treatment room. ‘I mean, if I wasn’t married, I could really fall for that guy.’
I’ve already fallen, Jane thought wistfully as she waved the girl goodbye. Hook, line and sinker, and much good it’s going to do me.
Last night she’d seen desire in his eyes, and if Nicole hadn’t arrived when she had…
Part of her wished the little girl hadn’t heard them arguing. Part of her—the weak, wimpy part—wished Nicole had simply stayed in her bed.
And then what? her mind whispered. Do you think you would have been happy to have enjoyed just a few short weeks with him, then watched him walk away?
No, she wouldn’t have been happy, but Elliot’s mother wouldn’t be back from Canada for another six weeks. She was going to have to live with him for another six weeks. Six weeks of wanting him. Six weeks of knowing that, though he might want her too, it was only in the way a child would want a new toy. A toy that would be discarded when the novelty wore off.
Forget about the next six weeks, she told herself. What about tonight? Stephanie’s mother had taken Nicole with her daughter to visit the Tower of London and Madame Tussaud’s, and then they were going to have tea in a café before going on to the cinema.
She and Elliot would be alone together in his flat. Oh, they’d been alone every night once Nicole had gone to bed but she’d always managed to ensure she didn’t linger long afterwards, but tonight…
Tonight Nicole wouldn’t be home until after ten and she could hardly disappear into her room as soon as they’d had dinner. It would have looked weird. It would have looked as though she was afraid to be alone with him.
And she was.
‘A splinter!’ Floella exclaimed savagely as she came out of cubicle 8. ‘The guy Richard and I have just treated came in because he had a splinter in his finger! This is an A and E unit, for God’s sake!’
‘Flo—’
‘And yesterday it was a woman who’d strained a calf muscle while walking her dog. Well, pardon me if I don’t consider that to be a life-threatening condition. Haven’t these people heard of GPs?’
‘I know, but, Flo—’
‘No wonder people are having to wait hours in Reception. No wonder—’
‘Flo, would you like to go with me to the cinema tonight?’ Jane interrupted desperately.
‘The cinema?’
‘I know it’s a bit short notice,’ Jane continued as Floella gazed at her in surprise. ‘But I haven’t been to a movie since I don’t know when, and everyone’s raving about the new Mel Gibson one—’
‘Oh, Jane, I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s my husband’s birthday today and I thought I’d take him out to dinner as a special treat. What about Friday night? We could go then if you like.’
‘Fine…great.’ Jane smiled with an effort but the staff nurse wasn’t fooled for a second.
‘Jane, what’s wrong?’
‘There’s nothing wrong.’
‘Don’t give me that!’ Floella exclaimed. ‘Jane, I’ve known you for six years, and I know when something’s really worrying you. It’s Elliot, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it’s not,’ she protested, feeling her cheeks beginning to redden under Floella’s steady gaze. ‘I don’t know what put that idea—’
‘Is he hassling you? Coming on to you? Jane, if he is, tell him where to get off. We both know what he’s like. Oh, he’s a terrific guy—wonderful to work with, and a great friend—but when it comes to women—’
‘Flo, I’m not getting involved with Elliot!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘He’s not interested in me. Never has been.’
‘He’s interested now,’ the staff nurse said shrewdly, ‘and you’re running scared if you’re desperately trying to come up with some excuse to get out of his flat for the evening.’
‘I’m not—’
‘No?’ Floella shook her head and sighed. ‘Jane, the sooner you leave the better.’
Which was all very well for her to say, Jane thought as the rest of her shift dragged by, but she couldn’t just pack her bags and go. What about Nicole? Who would look after her when Elliot worked nights or weekends?
It’s not your problem, a little voice at the back of her mind pointed out, and she knew it wasn’t, and yet…
All she could hope when the clock on the treatment room wall finally showed her shift was over was that Elliot would soon decide there were plenty more fish in the sea, and start looking for one.
All she could hope even more fervently was that tonight wouldn’t turn out to be as big a nightmare as she feared.
But it did.
He watched her all through dinner. Oh, not obviously, not blatantly. The moment she looked up his eyes would skitter away, but they’d been there, she’d felt them, just as she was equally devastatingly conscious of him. Conscious of his hands as he reached for the cruet. Conscious of the taut muscle in his arms as he lifted the casserole from the table and replaced it with their pudding, so that by the time they’d finished their meal her nerves were in shreds.
‘I wonder if there’s anything interesting on TV tonight?’ she said, desperately picking up the TV guide as they walked through to the sitting room.
A football match, a documentary about life in an NHS A and E department and two American soaps. The soaps were out, as was the documentary. She knew everything that she ever wanted to know about working in an A and E department, but football? Men liked football. Everybody said they did. Everybody said men became so engrossed when they were watching it that they didn’t notice anything else.
Everybody was wrong.
‘Isn’t it a very good match?’ she said tentatively, seeing him shift uncomfortably in his seat for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes.
A rueful smile curved his lips. ‘Actually, I’m afraid I don’t really like football.’
‘You should have said—
’
‘I thought you liked it—’
He began to laugh and she did, too, but then their eyes met. Met, and held, and as she felt her breath catch in her throat she stood up hurriedly.
‘W-would you like a cup of coffee—tea?’
‘No, thank you.’ He’d also got to his feet, and involuntarily she took a step back, only to see his mouth twist into not quite a smile. ‘There’s no need to be frightened of me, Jane.’
‘I’m not frightened,’ she managed to reply.
‘So I see,’ Elliot murmured, his gaze fixed on the tell-tale leaping of the pulse at her throat. ‘Jane, you have nothing to fear from me. Not now, not ever. I…I can’t deny that I find you very attractive—more than attractive—but I know you don’t feel the same way about me and I would never pressurise you.’
‘You find me attractive?’ she said faintly.
‘Jane…’ He stabbed his fingers through his hair. ‘Jane, I think you’re the most beautiful, desirable woman, I’ve ever met.’
He didn’t mean it. She was sure that he didn’t mean it, and she didn’t want him to tease her, couldn’t bear for him to tease her like this.
‘Please, Elliot—’
‘Oh, I know you don’t want to hear this, and I never intended telling you—promised myself that I wouldn’t—but the way I feel about you…Donna—what I felt for her was a kind of madness, a wild insanity, but for you…’
She tried to swallow, and found that she couldn’t. ‘Elliot…Elliot, are you saying that you love me?’
For an answer, his hand came up and cupped her cheek, and she stopped breathing.
She could have moved away. Part of her brain was telling her to do just that, but she didn’t, couldn’t, not when his thumb was gently caressing her skin, sending shock waves of pleasure running through her.
‘Elliot…’
It was a last feeble plea, and he ignored it as she’d known he would, putting his arm round her waist, drawing her to him until they were only inches apart. Now is the time to run, the rational part of her brain insisted. Now is the moment to run as fast and as far away from this man as you can.
But she didn’t want to listen to the rational part of her brain. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to know how it would feel, how he would taste, and it was she who closed those last few precious inches between them, so that they were standing chest to chest, hip to hip.
And Elliot? He’d never felt this way before. Never wanted not simply to make love to a woman but to cherish her, to protect her, to keep her safe. Jane was trembling, but he was trembling as well, not wanting to rush, not wanting to frighten her, but wanting her, wanting her so much.
‘Jane…’
She saw the uncertainty that she knew must be in her eyes mirrored in his, and it was that which moved her more than anything he might have said. That unexpected vulnerability which made her throw all caution to the wind and gave her the courage to slide her arms up his shoulders and lock them round his neck.
‘I love you, Elliot Mathieson,’ she whispered.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the uncertainty in his eyes disappear, to be replaced by one of joy, then he bent his head and kissed her, achingly light, achingly slow.
His body was shaking, trembling under her hands, and she arched up against him, parted her lips, felt the hot touch of his tongue and welcomed it, revelled in it. He shifted against her, drawing her even closer, caressing her back with his hands, and a groan escaped her.
‘Jane…’ His voice was ragged, hoarse against her hair. ‘Jane, I want…You know what I want.’
She did, just as she knew that there was no way in the world she could step back now, and when he took her hand and led her to his bedroom she went with him willingly.
‘God, you’re so lovely,’ he said unsteadily as he gently stripped away her clothes, then his. ‘So very, very lovely.’
‘Ten-thirty tomorrow morning,’ she gasped as his fingers cupped one breast and his mouth closed over its aching, straining peak.
‘Ten-thirty…?’
‘The ophthalmology department. You need your eyes tested. Maybe glasses—’
‘Glasses be damned.’ He laughed huskily, turning his attention to her other breast. ‘I know beauty when I see it, and you’re beautiful.’
And she felt beautiful as he laid her on his bed and caressed her body until she was crying out with need. She felt beautiful and desirable and everything a woman should be.
‘Elliot, please!’ she begged, parting her legs beneath him, arching her hips under him, and with a ragged groan he gave up all pretence of control and surged into her, sending her into a glorious freefall.
She heard his cry, deep and harsh and guttural, as he stiffened against her, and then his arms were round her, holding her close as he rolled over onto his back, cradling her against him as though he never wanted to let go.
‘Jane…Jane, are you crying?’ he said with concern, feeling the wetness of her cheeks against his chest. ‘Oh, my love, what’s wrong?’
His love. He’d called her his love, and she lifted her head to gaze tremulously at him. ‘Nothing. I’m just happy, that’s all.’
He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations run the length of her body. ‘Good, because so am I. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.’
She knew she hadn’t, and at this wonderful moment she didn’t care what the future might bring. For now this was enough. For now she was in his arms, he was holding her, and it was enough.
So she only sighed slightly when the phone began to ring.
‘If it’s an emergency at the hospital, I’m going to tell them to get on with it,’ Elliot grumbled, reluctantly easing himself out from under her.
‘Oh, yeah, right.’ She laughed. ‘And that I believe, I don’t think.’
But her laughter disappeared when she watched him answering the call, saw his face turn suddenly ashen and his knuckles whiten as he clenched the phone.
‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ she demanded when he banged down the phone and began scrabbling for his clothes.
‘There’s been an accident. They were crossing the road outside Stephanie’s house and Nicole ran ahead and a car hit her.’
‘Oh, God, no—is she badly hurt?’ Jane cried, reaching for her own clothes.
‘Charlie didn’t say.’
‘Charlie?’
‘They’ve taken her to St Stephen’s.’
The journey across London took an eternity. The evening traffic was heavy, every traffic light seemed to be against them and when they finally reached the hospital Elliot simply abandoned his car in the ‘No Parking’ zone, heedless of the protesting cry of the traffic warden.
‘She’ll be all right, Elliot, I’m sure she will,’ Jane said, running to keep up with him as he strode through the reception area, his face taut, tense. ‘We have one of the best A and E units in the city, and if anyone can help her it’s Charlie and the rest of the gang.’
He didn’t answer her—she doubted whether he’d even really heard her. He had only one goal and as he banged through the treatment room doors, just as Charlie Gordon emerged from a cubicle, the SHO took one look at his face and came hurriedly towards him.
‘OK, what’s the situation?’ Elliot demanded.
‘It’s really too early to say—’
‘Don’t hand me that crap, Charlie!’ Elliot exclaimed. ‘I’m a doctor, remember. Just give me the facts.’
The SHO bit his lip, then nodded. ‘OK. It looks like she’s sustained compound fractures of both tibias. She has two, possibly three fractured ribs—’
‘Lung damage?’
‘Her left lung collapsed shortly after she arrived. We think one of her fractured ribs may have punctured it, and we’ve tubed her.’
‘Glasgow coma scale?’
‘Elliot, I really don’t see how you knowing it is going to help,’ Charlie protested. ‘Look, why don’t you wait in one of our private waiting
rooms—?’
‘Scale of consciousness on the Glasgow coma scale, Charlie?’ Elliot reiterated, his face grim.
The SHO obviously didn’t want to answer. He quite clearly didn’t want to answer, but eventually he muttered, ‘Two, two, three.’
Jane drew in a shuddering breath. Anything less than eight meant you had very serious injuries indeed. She reached for Elliot’s hand and clasped it tightly.
‘Does…does she have any head injuries?’ she asked, her voice choked.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Charlie replied. ‘We’ve taken X-rays—’
‘Where is she—which cubicle?’
‘Elliot, I don’t think—’
‘No, don’t,’ he retorted. ‘Which cubicle is she in?’
Charlie glanced at Jane and she nodded. ‘Five. She’s in cubicle five, Elliot.’
Elliot brushed quickly past him, but as the SHO made to follow Jane caught hold of his arm. ‘Charlie, how…how bad is it?’
‘Pretty bad,’ he admitted grimly. ‘She’s lost a hell of a lot of blood, Jane. We’re pumping in O-negative while we’re waiting for a cross-match, but as fast as we’re pumping it in she seems to be losing it.’
‘Can I see her?’
‘Do you think you should?’ Charlie asked, concern plain on his face. ‘Jane, she looks pretty bad. I’d rather Elliot hadn’t gone in either, but short of knocking him down I didn’t think there was any way I could have kept him out.’
‘Charlie, I’m a nurse. I see cases like this every day.’
‘Maybe you do, but this is different, Jane. This is personal. This is Nicole.’
‘I’d still like to see her,’ she said firmly, and he shrugged in defeat.
He’d been right. Nicole did look awful. Awful, and tiny, and desperately white, but what really tore at Jane’s heart was the way Elliot was standing by the trolley, holding his daughter’s hand in his, as though that would somehow keep her with him.
‘ECG reading, Flo?’ Charlie asked.
‘Still fluctuating pretty wildly, I’m afraid,’ she replied, tight-lipped.
‘Have you inserted a catheter to drain her bladder?’ Elliot demanded. ‘Emptied her stomach?’
Dr Mathieson's Daughter Page 13
