Kitabı oku: «The Doctor's Longed-for Bride», sayfa 2
‘That must have taken some doing,’ murmured Frankie.
Sister Kenney allowed herself a small triumphant grin. ‘It’s about time they helped us out. Now, please, would you look at a woman with chest pains in the end cubicle? She’s a Mrs Jepson, just come in while all this brouhaha was going on, and all three theatres and the emergency room are in use. She needs her vital signs monitored—I’ll leave you to do that, Dr Lovatt.’
It took just a few minutes to scramble into their hospital greens and make their way to the large central area surrounded by cubicles. A large woman lying propped up on a bed in the end cubicle looked at Frankie and Corey with frightened eyes. She had the familiar expression of many patients who found themselves in a totally alien situation with people they didn’t know, surrounded by sights and sounds they probably associated more with television dramas than their own life. She was clutching the hand of a small man sitting by her side.
‘Am I having a heart attack?’ she asked tremulously. ‘I’ve got these awful pains, and my husband thinks it could be a myocardial….’ She looked helplessly at the small man.
‘Myocardial infarction,’ he said rather smugly.
The woman’s voice had started to rise on the edge of panic, her mouth trembling, and Frankie put a reassuring hand on her arm, trying to calm her patient and reduce her stress levels. As usual, she found herself using well-worn platitudes, which nevertheless were soothing in their familiarity, comforting phrases that the woman would have known all her life.
‘It’s Mrs Jepson, isn’t it?’ she said kindly. ‘Now, please, don’t worry—I want you to try and relax. We’re going to run a series of tests that will help to tell us what’s causing these pains. It could be a variety of things and we mustn’t jump to conclusions. But you’re in the right place to find these things out.’
The small man nodded sagely. ‘That’s what I told her, Doctor. I said it could also be indigestion—she had chips and sausages just an hour ago, and an apple pie, didn’t you, love?’
‘So you are Mr Jepson?’ asked Corey, attaching a monitor to the woman’s arm that ran a trace of the patient’s blood oxygen sats and blood pressure on a screen.
‘I am indeed,’ said the man. ‘We were going to the cinema—just paid for the tickets as a matter of fact when she was took bad.’
‘This came on quite suddenly, then?’ asked Frankie, watching the screen monitor.
The woman shifted restlessly. ‘Well, I’ve not been feeling quite myself for a few days—had this horrible pain near my heart.’ She indicated an area in the centre of her chest. ‘But it’s got worse and worse this evening.’
Mr Jepson looked at her indignantly. ‘You never said, Norma. I didn’t know you’d been feeling off…’
‘Didn’t want to worry you,’ his wife said, rather sullenly.
‘Well, your blood pressure’s OK,’ said Frankie. ‘Have you had an operation lately, or an injury that’s kept you in bed?’
Mrs Jepson shook her head, and her husband leaned forward eagerly. ‘You thinking of a blood clot on the lungs, Doctor? Could it be that?’
His wife gave a start of horror and Frankie’s eyes met Corey’s in a brief exasperated glance. Mr Jepson seemed intent on alarming his wife as much as possible, and making a nervous patient even more apprehensive. If he wanted to send his wife’s blood pressure sky high, he was going the best way about it, thought Frankie, hiding her irritation by smiling winningly at him.
‘We’ll be some time examining your wife, so why don’t you go and have a coffee from the machine in the waiting room while you can? When you come back, we may have more news to tell you.’
The man looked hesitant. ‘Surely it’s better that I stay and keep Norma calm?’
‘It’ll be best to sit with your wife when we’ve finished our assessment. These cubicles are small and it gets a little crowded in here, as you can see…’
The man stumped off unwillingly, only turning back at the door to comment to his wife, ‘If it’s a heart attack, you’ll be in here for days, you know.’
Norma looked mournfully at Frankie. ‘We were going on holiday next week—looks like we’ll have to cancel it if I’m going to be here for ages.’
‘You may be feeling much better soon,’ said Corey brightly. ‘Wait until we’ve had the results of your blood tests…’
‘And we’ll run a cardiac trace to check your heart,’ added Frankie.
The phone rang at the main nurses’ station and Corey left to answer it. Frankie leant forward to listen to the woman’s chest through her stethoscope. When she put the stethoscope on the area of skin below her breasts, Mrs Jepson flinched.
‘Don’t touch me there—it’s absolute agony, that!’ she gasped.
Frankie looked more closely at the area she’d just touched and frowned. ‘Did you know you’ve got a rash here…quite a distinctive rash?’
‘There wasn’t anything there yesterday.’
Frankie pulled the overhead light so that it focussed on the red weal across the woman’s chest. ‘You know, Mrs Jepson,’ she said slowly, ‘I think that this could be a clue to the mystery of your pain.’
Mrs Jepson gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘It’s my heart, isn’t it?’ she said in a quiet voice, as if bracing herself for very bad news. ‘Have you heard something odd through that instrument?’
‘Your heart and chest sounded fine—it’s what I can see that’s quite illuminating. You’ve got a band of blistery little spots across your chest, which have probably just come out. Does it feel itchy?’
‘A little. It’s painful when you touch that area, and there’s a horrible pain deep into the chest….’
The door opened behind Frankie and a deep voice said, ‘Was someone wanting a heart trace in here?’
Frankie glanced towards the tall figure who’d entered the cubicle, then her mouth dropped as she did a double-take at the tall man with rimless glasses and russet hair who stood in front of her. Was she imagining things or was it really the familiar figure of Jack Herrick?
‘My God…Jack!’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
Jack stared back at Frankie, also stunned. ‘I might ask you the same thing,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were working at the infirmary…’
‘I have been for six months…You must be the new registrar that Corey told me about.’
Mrs Jepson looked from one doctor to the other, interest making her forget her discomfort for the moment.
‘You two old friends, then?’ she asked.
Jack smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Jepson. As you can see, we’re both a bit surprised to see each other. And yes, we go back quite a long way. Now, first things first—I believe you’ve been having chest pains…’
‘I’d like you to take a look at this rash, Dr Herrick,’ said Frankie, her mind still buzzing with the surprise of seeing him. ‘I’d be interested to know what you think.’
He inspected the reddened area closely for a moment, then looked across at Frankie. ‘Not much doubt about it—a good example of Herpes zoster, I would say.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Mrs Jepson.
‘I suppose you had chickenpox when you were a child?’
She looked puzzled. ‘Yes. All my brothers and sisters had it at the same time—Mum nearly went mad!’
‘Then your past has come back to haunt you, I think. The virus has been reactivated, and all the signs point to it being shingles…’
‘Shingles?’ repeated Mrs Jepson, gazing at both doctors in astonishment.
‘That’s right,’ said Frankie. ‘The pain in your body is caused by the shingles. In fact, the virus is affecting the nerve endings—that’s why it’s so sore. The rash often doesn’t appear for a few days.’
The woman lay back on the pillows. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Is that all it is?’
Frankie smiled. ‘It’s not very nice, I’m afraid, but it’s better than having a heart attack! Mind you, I still think we need to run these tests on you. We don’t want to assume that just because you’ve got shingles there aren’t any other problems.’
‘That’s one thing my Bert never thought of!’ Mrs Jepson looked rather triumphantly at Frankie and Jack, clearly pleased to have put one over on her husband. ‘I wonder what’s brought on shingles, then? I’ve not been near anyone with chickenpox…’
‘It doesn’t work that way. Often it’s because you’ve been under stress for some reason and perhaps your immune system’s been compromised—or possibly because you’ve been on steroid treatment.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Mrs Jepson gloomily. ‘I’ve had that much trouble with our son—he’s been in trouble with the police, taking drugs, joy-riding cars and I don’t know what else. I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’
Jack nodded sympathetically. ‘That sort of thing could trigger an attack. We could try you on an antiviral drug which might reduce the severity of the active stage and minimise nerve damage.’
Frankie broke open a sterile needle pack and nodded, adding, ‘In the meantime, we’ll make sure that this is the only problem you have. Dr Herrick will run a trace on your heart when I’ve taken some blood for tests.’
She wound a cuff round the patient’s arm to make it easier to find a vein. Jack watched as she completed the task and she felt his gaze on her. She wondered if he felt any embarrassment at all, bumping into her like this. Was he going to explain why he’d just vanished into thin air and had he any idea how much he’d hurt her? Not, she conceded wryly, as much as his precious brother-in-law had hurt her—but it had been damned rude to vanish without explanation. Recently men seemed to have treated her pretty badly, she reflected grimly.
Her patient’s plaintive voice brought Frankie guiltily back to the matter in hand. ‘I hope I don’t faint, Doctor—I have a horror of needles. Have you nearly finished yet? I can’t bear to look at what you’re doing.’
Frankie drew some blood into the needle and smiled reassuringly at Mrs Jepson. ‘There we go! All done now. We’ll soon get the tests back.’
Mrs Jepson lay back on the pillows and looked up at them both. ‘Thank goodness that’s over! And fancy me having shingles! I can’t wait to tell Bert.’
Frankie moved over to the shelf to pick up the phials for the blood. She brushed past Jack and flicked him a caustic glance. ‘I was led to believe you’d moved miles away from here when you left,’ she said in a low voice.
Was there slight embarrassment in his eyes when they met hers? ‘That’s true. I went down to London, but things didn’t work out quite how I hoped. However, it looks like we’ll be working together again—it’ll seem like old times,’ he commented smilingly.
Not quite like old times, thought Frankie. She’d thought that Jack and she had had a free and easy relationship before—now she couldn’t help feeling resentful at working again with a colleague who had brushed off their friendship so casually. Now another dynamic had entered the picture: she was no longer engaged to Damian. She and Jack did not have that connection any more, and perhaps it was better that way—she did not want to be reminded of Damian, who had finished with her as casually as he would a boring book, with no explanation. That part of her life was over and, as far as she was concerned working with Jack Herrick again was going to be just another job.
CHAPTER TWO
THE NEXT HOUR was manic, the pressure on Casualty building up with the usual emergency cases as well as those involved in the collapsed wall. It was ten o’clock before the situation eased and Frankie and Corey met in the staffroom.
‘That’s three fractures, an overdose, a scalding and a drunk who nearly suffocated on his own vomit, topped off with Sister Kenney telling me to help that dozy porter, Tim, move six oxygen cylinders from the passage. I’ve had enough!’ Corey flopped dramatically back on the sofa. ‘Next time we’re asked to do overtime, they can get someone else!’
Frankie smiled. ‘Go on—you know you love it really. Now, get that coffee down you.’
She handed Corey a mug. Corey took a sip and sighed. ‘Even this instant sludge tastes good at the moment. By the way, have you bumped into knockout Jack Herrick yet, our new registrar? I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing…’
‘It turns out that he was the man I used to work with at St Mary’s,’ said Frankie. ‘It was a surprise, seeing him again.’ She looked ruefully at Corey. ‘He also happens to be Damian’s brother-in-law.’
‘Ouch! How bizarre is that!’ said Corey in surprise. ‘So does he know what that rat has done to you?’
‘I haven’t got round to it yet. I suppose I’ll have to tell him later. It was through Jack that I met Damian originally.’
‘Well, I hope Jack will be suitably horrified.’ Corey looked speculatively at Frankie. ‘I guess you’ll know a bit about this gorgeous Jack, won’t you? I suppose he’s married with about four kids.’
‘He’s a widower with one little girl. His wife, Damian’s sister, was killed in a car accident two years ago, but—’
‘I knew there’d be a “but,”’ said Corey with a grimace.
‘I did hear he was engaged and I don’t know why he’s come back to this area.’
‘Just my luck. Ah, well, my own lovely warm bed beckons.’ Corey hauled herself out of the sofa. ‘See you Monday, Frankie. Sleep well.’
She went out as Sister Kenney bustled in, her blue uniform straining over her plump bosom and the usual harassed expression on her face. ‘Is there any coffee in that pot? I must have something before I start filing my admissions register in the office. I hope we’re on top of things now.’
Frankie looked at her sympathetically. People tended to make fun of Sister Kenney and her fussy manner, but she was a well-organised woman who tried to do her best for the staff and the patients. Frankie handed her a mug.
‘Do you need me any more?’ she asked.
‘No. You get off now—and thanks for coming in. Even with our new registrar, we couldn’t have coped without you. Have you met him, by the way? He’s called Jack Herrick and I must say I’m favourably impressed so far.’
‘I used to work with him at my last job. And yes, he’ll be good to have on the team.’
Sister raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? That’s excellent news. You’ll know each other’s methods, then.’
As if on cue, the door was pushed open and Jack walked in. Sister Kenney gave him a wide smile.
‘I believe you know each other already…I didn’t realise that you and Frankie used to be colleagues.’ She shot a look at her watch. ‘I’m sure she can fill you in on any queries you have—but I’ll have to get on now and tell the nurses we borrowed from Medical that they can finish now.’
She marched out and left Frankie and Jack alone. Jack lifted the coffee-pot.
‘Want a cup?’ he asked.
‘No, thanks, I’m going home now and I don’t want any caffeine to keep me awake.’
He looked at her levelly, then said slowly, ‘It’s good to see you Frankie—a lovely surprise.’
Frankie nodded without smiling. She wasn’t going to go overboard at seeing him again just yet. Jack was another man who hadn’t behaved all that well towards her, albeit in a much milder way than Damian had.
‘Yes, I thought I’d never see you again when you vanished into thin air,’ she said pointedly. ‘You left before I could ask you anything. I…I wondered what had happened to make you leave so abruptly.’
He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry about that, Frankie. I should have spoken to you before I left and I know I owe you an explanation.’
‘You don’t have to tell me why you went,’ said Frankie frostily. ‘It was just a little impersonal, leaving a note pinned to my locker to tell me you were leaving. I…I thought we were good friends. I think I deserved more than that.’ She paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘On the other hand, was it something I did? Perhaps I upset you in some way.’
He winced slightly, then he said vehemently, ‘Of course it wasn’t your fault. For heaven’s sake, you were my…well, my best friend. I feel ashamed that I hurt you, but…’ He paused for a moment, as if thinking of how to phrase his next sentence. ‘Well, the thing is, something happened—something that made me realise I had to leave immediately. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do in the world was offend you, of all people—someone who’s going to be related to me as well.’
Frankie bit her lip, that cold feeling of rejection sweeping over her again. She could see a short-term future of repeating the same information over and over again to those who’d known she’d been engaged to Damian, but there was no point in beating about the bush. The truth had to come out some time, so why not now?
‘Actually, there’s something you might as well know…’
He looked at her enquiringly, one eyebrow raised.
‘Damian and I aren’t engaged any more, Jack.’ She said it baldly, almost defiantly, not willing to show how devastated she felt.
An astounded expression crossed his face, and he put his mug of coffee down on the worktop so forcefully that the liquid slopped over the rim. ‘What? You…you’ve broken up? When did this happen? I thought you were going to organise the wedding with him when he came over just before I left for London.’
Frankie’s voice hardened. ‘As a matter of fact, I received the letter earlier today, if you must know. He doesn’t want to get married now. And don’t ask me why—I’ve no idea.’
‘It’s unbelievable,’ Jack said slowly. ‘You and he…well, you seemed like the perfect couple, so well matched. I thought you two would go on for ever…’
‘So did I, Jack, so did I.’ Frankie couldn’t help the sadness reflected in her expression, but after a short silence she said brusquely, ‘But it’s over now—no possibility of getting back together. He’s let me down. I could never trust him again, whatever the reason is that he wanted to be free of me.’
It was odd how numb she felt, as if the full shock of her broken engagement had yet to hit her properly. She looked at Jack challengingly. ‘Would you have said he was untrustworthy? You’ve known him for many years.’
Jack shook his head in bewilderment. ‘He’s incredibly fearless—got me out of several sticky situations. In fact, he saved my life once when we were white-water rafting—at great risk to his own life. From that point of view I guess I found him very reliable. But this… I can’t understand it. He told me he was mad about you.’
Jack stared at her, his eyes holding hers, something unreadable in their bright blue depths behind the studious-looking glasses. Frankie looked at his tall figure leaning against the cupboard, his arms crossed over his chest and the hospital greens he was wearing open at the neck. Quite suddenly she realised for the first time just how damned attractive Jack was. It was utterly ridiculous, especially in the circumstances of having just been dumped by someone she’d thought was the love of her life. Of course, she’d always considered Jack a good-looking man, but quiet and unassuming. Damian was the type of man who held the floor, enjoyed being the life and soul of the party—Jack always seemed to be an amused onlooker. Her assessment of Jack had been sisterly, regarding him as an easygoing and sympathetic companion.
Now she realised that Jack’s diffident manner seemed to emphasise his appeal, and she suddenly understood that many girls would find him extremely sexy. She remembered Corey had found him drop-dead gorgeous…
With an effort she turned away sharply, giving the worktop another good polish to allow herself time to recover. How shallow could you get? She’d just been dumped by his brother-in-law, hadn’t she? She wasn’t supposed to have weak-at-the-knee feelings for other men!
‘Let’s change the subject,’ she said lightly. ‘I heard somewhere that you’d got engaged recently. When’s the happy day?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid that bit the dust as well. My fault—I got engaged for the wrong reasons far too quickly and it was never going to work out.’
She turned to him, genuine sympathy on her face. ‘Oh, dear, you felt it was too soon after Sue’s death?’
He looked down at the floor for a moment, his fists clenching together at his sides. ‘That could be the reason,’ he murmured.
‘Better to find out now than later,’ comforted Frankie.
Jack nodded, watching her as she folded the dishcloth and hung it over the taps. ‘Absolutely. Getting entangled in the wrong relationship is madness—it can ruin your life. One should be totally sure you’ve got the right person.’
Frankie picked up her bag and her mouth twisted sadly. ‘You don’t have to tell me that, Jack. Perhaps Damian’s done me a favour after all.’ She flicked her hair back from her forehead. ‘Now, tell me about Abby. I suppose she’s at a local school? I have missed her, you know.’
He smiled and pulled out a photograph from his trouser pocket. ‘This is her in her new school uniform—she’s very proud of it.’
Frankie gazed at the photograph he passed her, and said wistfully, ‘She’s grown since I saw her last—inevitable, I suppose. But she looks so sweet and still very young—and very like Sue!’
Jack nodded. ‘Yes, I’m relieved to say she’s taken after her mother in looks. In fact Abby’s the reason I’ve come to Denniston. My parents live here and they want to help me as much as possible with Abby, which will be great. It’s not much fun, coping on your own.’
‘Lovely for them, too, I imagine, to watch their little granddaughter grow up. I’d love to see her again.’
He took off his glass and polished them, then said rather diffidently, ‘Perhaps this is a bit of a cheek, but if you’re interested and have the time, Abby’s got a sports day at school next weekend—I don’t suppose you’d come if you’re not at work? She’d really love you to be there, I know.’
Frankie felt a little leap of pleasure—seeing Abby again would be lovely. Then she hesitated slightly, reluctant to restart a friendship that had seemed to founder so abruptly previously.
She replied lightly, ‘If I’m free, I’d love to come. I’ll let you know nearer the time.’
If he noticed her reserved tone, he didn’t show it. ‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘I’ll remind you about it.’
Frankie opened the door and looked back at him. ‘I’ll see you next week, then. Now I’m off to have a good sleep—so much has happened today I feel absolutely pole-axed!’
‘I bet you do, Frankie. And I’m so sorry that this has happened.’
‘Don’t be. I’m not going to let it ruin my future—but I would like to know just why the hell Damian suddenly felt he couldn’t love me any more!’
Her eyes bright with unshed tears, Frankie walked quickly out of the room.
* * *
Jack watched Frankie disappear and shook his head in disbelief at what she’d told him. How could Damian have finished with a girl like her—talented, fun, a knockout to look at, but most of all a kindly and generous person? The man was a fool—a restless soul who ran through money, lived life to the full and easily became bored. But even so, he’d thought that when Damian had met Frankie, his friend had found a soulmate.
Jack finished the dregs of his coffee and slumped moodily down in a chair, staring unseeingly at a poster on the wall in front of him that exhorted him to wash his hands. He remembered how thrilled his darling wife Sue had been when her brother had become engaged to Frankie. The two girls had become great friends and extremely close, seeing each other frequently—and, of course, that had helped to forge the friendship he and Frankie had had after Sue’s death.
His thoughts drifted to his friendship with Frankie now and he sighed ruefully. He’d obviously hurt Frankie very much by leaving the last job so abruptly, and it was going to take time to heal the wounds of bruised friendship. Who could blame Frankie for feeling offended when he’d gone without a word of explanation?
Jack picked up a pencil from the worktop and rolled it absently between his fingers. He’d thought he’d acted for the best when he’d left St Mary’s, that he’d had no choice, but he’d handled things clumsily and had ended up jeopardising that friendship. However, after all he’d done to distance himself from her, it seemed that fate had thrown them together again, and he was back to square one—except that now Frankie was a free agent. Would that make life easier between them? He sighed and flung the pencil back on the worktop as he strode out of the room.
* * *
It was Friday afternoon and Jack was scrubbing up in the little anteroom off the small clean theatre in A and E. His patient lay with eyes closed in a face so battered it was hard to tell what sex it was. The cheeks and eyes were swollen, as were the lips, bloodied and twice normal size. Her head had been raised so that there would be the least tension possible on her face.
‘Thanks for helping me out, Frankie,’ said Jack.
‘No worries. We’re reasonably quiet now,’ Frankie replied.
She started to scrub up beside him, lathering the soap well up to her elbows, massaging it between her fingers, trying to ignore the fact that she and Jack were so close together. Uneasily she had to admit that she had begun to think of Jack in a different way since that brief episode in the staff kitchen. Up until now Damian had been the only man who’d attracted her, but now she realised, that far from being a man she’d thought of more as a brother than anything else, Jack was extremely sexy in a quiet and restrained way. She gazed at her troubled face in the mirror above the basin. Her instinct was to keep out of Jack’s way as much as she could, but in a busy A and E department that was impossible.
She pulled a paper towel out of the slot and started to dry her hands briskly. She couldn’t understand the sudden attraction she felt for Jack—was it a case of off with the old and on with the new? She threw the paper towel in the bin and told herself that it was a reaction to Damian breaking off the engagement. The last thing she wanted now was to start looking for another man in her life.
‘Mr Caulfield, the plastic surgeon, is tied up with a complicated operation and we need to close up these wounds on Mrs Casson’s face and arm as soon as possible before a risk of infection sets in,’ Jack continued, looking at her over his mask.
Frankie nodded, hoping those piercing blue eyes couldn’t see her thoughts inside her head. ‘Poor woman. We don’t want to have to open them up later and risk scarring. What on earth happened to her?’
‘Some charming youths relieved her of her purse while she was shopping,’ he replied grimly. ‘I only wish I could use my scalpel on them in a place they won’t forget.’
They made their way over to the patient. Mrs Casson’s eyes were opened now, fearful and apprehensive. ‘What are you going to do?’ she whispered.
‘We’re going to take care of you, Mrs Casson,’ said Jack in his calm, firm voice. ‘You’re in safe hands. We’ll do a bit of stitching and clean up these wounds. It’ll take some time for the swelling to go down, but in a few days you’ll be back to normal.’ He grinned down at her and patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, we’re brilliant at embroidery.’
The woman attempted a stiff little smile at Jack’s reassuring manner and joke, visibly relaxing, and Jack was able to assess to a small degree the range of movement Mrs Casson had in her face.
Corey had been checking the instruments in the tray. She swung the overhead light so that the beam was fixed on the patient’s face and said, ‘Mrs Casson’s had an injection of Valium, just to keep her relaxed, and an anti-tetanus jab.’
‘Good—then we’ll make a start.’
The woman turned slightly towards Jack and said thickly, ‘Will this hurt?’
Jack smiled at her kindly. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Casson. I know it probably feels pretty awful at the moment, but we’re going to give you some local anaesthetic and we’ll stitch these deep cuts on your face—you won’t feel anything—then you’ll go for a scan to make sure you’ve no internal head injuries.’
Mrs Casson muttered something that sounded like, ‘They were horrible!’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Did you manage to get a description of the yobs that did this to you?’
‘They were all wearing hoods,’ Mrs Casson mumbled. ‘They reeked of drink.’ A tear rolled out of her swollen eye and coursed down her cheek. ‘I had all the money from the old folk for their shopping…I didn’t expect anyone to do this in a supermarket….’
Her voice trailed away, and Frankie’s and Jack’s eyes met over their masks in sympathy. ‘If it’s any comfort, I believe that the police are holding three youths,’ said Jack. ‘But first things first—we’re going to do our best to make you look as beautiful as you did before.’
‘If you can make me look better than I did before, that would be good,’ she whispered.
Corey held Mrs Casson’s hand as the doctors began to work on the woman’s face. It was a kindly gesture that always made the patient feel less isolated: it was important for her to feel the comforting contact with one of the nursing staff.
Frankie swabbed the wounds with a saline solution and Jack carefully inserted a fine-bore needle in the woman’s lower cheek to numb the area to be repaired then both doctors bent over the cuts they were going to suture. Jack concentrated on the long gash in Mrs Casson’s cheek, while Frankie worked on a deep cut in the woman’s arm. The Valium was doing its job—the patient lay calmly, sad eyes watching them, her muscles relaxed, making it easier to work on the wounds. They used fine-filament gut which Corey passed them in threaded needles.
The gash in the arm only took a few minutes to close, but the cheek wound took longer. It was a delicate job to close the muscle and ensure that there was no pulling which could cause facial distortion. Jack worked quickly, but it was still a lengthy and finicky business. His face frowned in concentration as he matched the opposite sides of the wound to each other, careful to stitch it without stretching the skin.
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