Undo the Past

Book 22: Medical Romances

by Gill Sanderson

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Medical Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

Laura McLeod enjoyed her work on the paediatric ward, but she was less involved with the social side of the hospital. The arrival of the new Senior Registrar, John Hawke, wouldn?t, she thought, change that. But John had other ideas. He could see she was hiding something from the world, something she needed to face before she could go forward to really enjoy her life. And if he could persuade her to make him part of that life, so much the better ?

Release date: December 20, 2013

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 143

Sample

Chapter One

‘I was told to phone Larry –’ the voice sounded perplexed ‘– because Larry was the one who knew everything about one of our patients – a Brian Hughes. I’m afraid I’m not making much progress with him. Do you know where Larry is?’

She liked the voice. It was unusually deep, but had a gentle, caressing quality about it. It was slow and soft too, and she wondered if this man ever raised it in anger. She suspected not. This man – 

Abruptly she remembered that this was a professional call: she’d just come off duty after a particularly tiring stint, but obviously she would still help if she could. ‘My name’s Laura McLeod,’ she said, ‘Sister Laura McLeod. But for some reason I get called Larry.’

‘Ah, I see. I’m John Hawke. I’ve just joined Dr Miller’s firm as Paediatric Specialist Registrar. And I think that the name Laura sounds much more attractive than Larry.’

‘Sounds?’ she queried.

‘I like sounds. I like the sound of Swan Lake that I can hear coming from your room. There’s a danger in medicine that we look too much and don’t listen enough.’ Laura wriggled herself further up the bed and turned down the volume on her stack. This was an unexpectedly interesting conversation. And she liked talking to people on the telephone. She could imagine what they were like.

‘Pleased to meet you over the phone, Dr Hawke,’ she said. ‘We weren’t expecting you for a couple of days.’

‘Well, David Miller said to drop in just to “have a look round”. So I did – and I’ve ended up working.’

‘With Brian Hughes?’ She thought for a moment. David Miller, their consultant, was an endocrinologist, with a special interest in paediatric diabetes. They saw patients from all over the North. Brian Hughes was one of them.

She went on, ‘He has come in with a relapse and a very concerned mother who has assured you that she personally sees to his diet and his medication so it must be his medication at fault and perhaps he ought to have a few days in hospital to sort things out.’

‘I see.’ The voice at the other end of the line was thoughtful. ‘I wish I could diagnose at long distance like that.’ There was no reproof in the voice – in fact, he sounded amused.

She felt slightly guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor, and I suppose I could be completely wrong, but this will be the fourth time this has happened and Brian has had to come into hospital. And each time it happens when Mrs Hughes has fallen in love again.’

She knew she sounded bitter but she felt no need to conceal it. ‘Brian’s a lovely kid and he’ll be stabilised in a few days. On past form that’s about as long as Mrs Hughes’s love affair will last.’

‘Treat the family, not the child,’ she heard him murmur. ‘Easier said than done. What you say makes sense, Sister McLeod, but I must confess I was completely taken in by his mother. She seemed very worried, very sincere.’

‘And very well made-up and very well dressed for a woman beside herself with worry,’ Laura said cheerfully. ‘Tell me, Doctor, are you reasonably young and attractive?’

She could hear the laughter in his reply. ‘You know, Sister, I really couldn’t possibly comment on that. Why do you ask?’

‘If you are then Mrs Hughes has sat very close to you, held your right forearm and pulled you towards her and explained how difficult it is for a deserted mother to cope. But there is a lot of love inside her and she feels she’s one of the world’s givers.’

‘That’s unbelievable! You’ve got each word, each gesture, right!’ ‘I’ve seen it all before. It’s a well-rehearsed performance, Dr Hawke.’

‘That’s sad for the boy. But you’re a cynic, Sister.’

‘Nothing so destructive. I’m a realist. I hope for the best in people but I don’t expect it.’

‘I see. Sister McLeod, you’ve been really helpful. More than that, it’s been a real pleasure talking to you. I look forward to meeting you on the ward. I’m sure we’ll get on.’

There was a signal in the warmth of his reply that made her slightly wary. It had happened before. She tended to get too friendly on the telephone. The new S.R. must see her as a nurse, not a woman.

‘It’s in our patients’ best interests if medical and nursing staff cooperate to the full,’ she said coolly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must catch up on my sleep.’

He had noticed her change of tone and was obviously curious as to what he’d said wrong. ‘Of course, Sister. And I do apologise for disturbing you when you’re off duty.’ He rang off.

Laura didn’t go to sleep at once. Her gaze wandered contentedly round the little room she inhabited on the top floor of the nurses’ home.

It was plain but the pastel wall colour and beech furniture made it seem quite elegant. She had added her own touches – the shelves full of books, the stack of CDs, the tiny television. There was her tartan bed cover, her prints of Impressionist pictures. On the desk was a narrow cut-glass vase, and she bought herself a single flower once a week. From the window she could see the great trees in the park next to the hospital.

Her life was on the ward, but she could retreat here and be happy. She was self-contained. She didn’t really need anyone else.

Seddon General Hospital had its own swimming pool. It was unusual for a hospital, but various departments – Orthopaedics, Midwifery, Paediatrics – had said how valuable the pool was to their work. Mark Black, the chief executive, had fought for the funding.

Laura never had any trouble getting up. If you stayed in bed you tended to half dream, and the world of the imagination could mix with the real world. That was something she didn’t want. At half past five next morning her alarm trilled, and, before it could stop she was out of bed. Her morning was planned – costume, tracksuit, trainers, and towel stood ready. She walked over to the pool.

The attendant smiled at one of the very few who were early-morning regulars. In her black one-piece Laura dived in and began her usual steady churn up and down the pool. Two others were doing the same. Laura felt at peace. She loved this quiet time.

Later the pool would fill with people, shouting and splashing. Now was the time for serious swimming. It exercised Laura, and made her relax. She didn’t push herself too hard – she wanted to think.

David Miller, the paediatric consultant, had called a ward meeting for later that day. She would meet his new specialist registrar. Laura felt curious about him. He would have to fit in with what was a good, tight-knit team. Usually she was wary of new doctors, but she felt she’d be able to work with this man.

She was judging him by his voice – it was gentle, and had made her feel that he was genuinely interested in her as a person. It was a warm voice … Laura told herself to stop dreaming and not be stupid. A gentle voice was a useful tool for a paediatrician, nothing more. She swam the next two lengths at a totally unnecessary speed.

Laura finished her lengths, pulled her tracksuit on over her roughly dried body, and scampered back to her room. There she showered, put her hair in a French plait, and put on her uniform.

It was really only half a uniform – a bright tabard over linen trousers and shirt. It was thought that children might be frightened by the stark blue or white worn by nurses in adult wards. Laura recognised this, but still felt sad. A uniform stated who she was, asserted her authority, recorded her achievements.

Quickly she scanned herself in the mirror. Sister McLeod was smart as usual. Her interest was solely in her uniform; the long legs, the slim, firm body didn’t concern her. Neither did the high-cheekboned face, the large brown eyes, the softly curved mouth. She knew men found her attractive, but it didn’t interest her at present. She was now a nurse, not a woman.

Laura got on well with her opposite number, Ellen Bates, the night sister on Robin Ward. They sat together in the little office and reviewed what had happened during the night. Laura noted that there were two new admissions. Brian Hughes she already knew about, but there was another – Eileen Townley, a five-year-old girl who had been admitted from Casualty the previous night with a gash on the inside of her thigh which had needed thirteen stitches. It had been dangerously near the artery.

Laura looked at Ellen questioningly.

‘Apparently, it was cut when she fell on an empty bottle,’ Ellen said, using the deliberate non-judgemental tone that so many nurses practised. ‘A whisky bottle. The parents were having a party. The mother will be in some time this morning – if she can manage it.’

‘I’ll look forward to seeing her. And Brian Hughes?’

Eileen shrugged. ‘She says she’s been checking his blood sugar regularly but she can’t give us any kind of written proof. He was near hypo – hypoglycaemia, or low blood sugar – when she brought him in. She swears she’s kept him to his diet. I’d say she hasn’t. Perhaps she deliberately mis-feeds him so he’ll have to come into hospital – I just can’t tell.’

Laura sighed. A mercifully small number of parents managed to manipulate their children’s illnesses, arranging hospital stays as if the hospital were a hotel. She thought Brian’s mother was one. ‘I’ll go and have a word with him when I’ve finished my book work,’ she said.

The other three children in the little four-bedded annexe were down at the day room, but Brian was still in bed. A white face turned to her as she entered, and then there was a cautious smile.

Laura beamed at him. ‘Hello, Brian, it’s Larry. Remember me? How are you feeling today?’

Brian considered the question carefully. ‘Bit better, I think,’ he said. ‘Still feel tired all the time.’

‘Well, we’ll see if we can do something about that. Did you stick to your diet, like we told you?’

There was another pause. ‘I thought I did. My mam does it mostly and I was getting better. And then I got worse.’

Stoically he went on, ‘It’s rotten, being ill this week. My Uncle Toby’s got a boat on the river and we were going on a trip with him. There’s a cabin and you can sleep in it. Now my mam will go on her own.’

‘I don’t think I’ve met your Uncle Toby,’ Laura said delicately.

‘He’s a new uncle. He’s bought me lots of toys.

‘So, do you like him? You get on well together.

‘I suppose he’s all right,’ Brian said doubtfully. ‘He spends a lot of time with my mam. They go out a lot.’

‘Well, perhaps you’ll get a boat trip some other time. I hope so. Now, sit up a bit and let’s have a look at you.’

Laura cursed Brian’s mother to herself. How could she be so heartless? But she still smiled encouragingly, knowing it would do Brian no good at all to guess what she was thinking.

She wondered if the new S.R. would think she was a cynic when he was faced with Brian’s case.

Tomorrow was a theatre day and five children were to have tonsillectomies. They were coming in today and she saw the first little party appear at the top of the ward. There was an apprehensive-looking seven-year-old and, if anything, two more apprehensive-looking parents.

She walked down to meet them, her hand outstretched. ‘Hello, I’m Sister McLeod and this must be young Harry.’ The lad gave an uncertain smile.

‘Come and look in the play bay, Harry, and we’ll have a talk in a few minutes.’

It was all-important to get to know her young patients as quickly as possible, then she could explain what was going to happen. There might be discomfort and pain, but if the child felt confident things should go well. But five new cases in a day was rather a lot.

Later that morning David Miller, the consultant, held his ward meeting in the sister’s office. He believed in keeping the staff informed as much as possible. He said it was the only way to work as a team. Now as many staff as could be spared were squashed together, listening to him and being given the chance to speak if they wished.

‘And I’m not very happy about little Peter Ellis’s injuries,’ he was saying. ‘Certainly, they could be the result of a fall, but Peter’s had too many falls recently.’

‘His mother seems very concerned,’ one of the junior nurses said uncertainly. ‘I found her crying by his bed. In fact, Peter was quite cheerful until she started him off.’

‘I see,’ said David thoughtfully. ‘She’s a quiet girl. Doesn’t have much to say for herself. Well, just keep an eye on him. And if you see anything you find peculiar, tell me or Larry here.’

‘And remember these are only suspicions,’ Laura said firmly. ‘We’ve been wrong about abuse before so don’t say anything, especially to the family.’

As she spoke she felt a momentary draught on her neck, indicating that someone had silently opened the door and slipped in. Probably one of the junior nurses.

It was only when she registered the unusual interest shown by the staff in front of her that she thought she might be wrong.

She turned. The man behind her must be the new doctor – John Hawke. She wasn’t sure she liked him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and there was an air of fitness about him. She had doubts about tough, overtly masculine men.

Then he smiled and spoke and she changed her mind a little. His voice was attractive, even more so than on the telephone. His smile was gentle. ‘Sorry to be late,’ he said. ‘Quite simply … I got lost.’ There was a ripple of laughter at this confession and David stood to make introductions. ‘John Hawke, my new specialist registrar,’ he said. ‘He’s come to us in the northern provinces from London so we’ll have to make him welcome. John, this is …’ The meeting was over. Carefully the consultant introduced John to the others in the room, and then they left.

Laura noticed that John made a point of speaking to everyone with a slightly longer conversation than was absolutely necessary. He’s making a good impression, she thought to herself, and wondered whether it was a coldly chosen technique or a sign of the man’s true character. Then she felt ashamed at having thought such a thing.

When it was her turn she found herself looking up into large brown eyes – brown like her own. ‘Sister and I have already met,’ John said, ‘bri. . .