Kitabı oku: «Top-Notch Men!: In Her Boss's Special Care»

Top-Notch Men!
In Her Boss’s
Special Care
Melanie Milburne
A Doctor Worth
Waiting For
Margaret McDonagh
Dr Campbell’s
Secret Son
Anne Fraser

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In Her Boss’s Special Care

Dear Reader,

One of the great privileges of being a writer is spending time with your beloved characters, talking to them, getting to know them, playing with them and then at the end of the book leaving them to get on with your own life. I guess it’s a bit like being a grandparent—at the end of the day you hand the little darlings back!

How easy would it be for people like my hero Joel and his parents to walk away from what life has dished out to them? Such a dilemma was the premise for this novel and I couldn’t think of a better heroine than Allegra Tallis, who showed such amazing compassion and hope against all odds.

However, outside of romantic literature not every story has a happy ending, and it is for this reason I dedicated this book to my three nephews and nieces, who daily deal with the human tragedy of what Joel Addison had to face.

My special thoughts and heartfelt love to all who have to do the same.

Melanie Milburne

About the Author

MELANIE MILBURNE says: “I am married to a surgeon, Steve, and have two gorgeous sons, Paul and Phil. I live in Hobart, Tasmania, where I enjoy an active life as a long-distance runner and a nationally ranked top ten Master’s swimmer. I also have a Master’s Degree in Education, but my children totally turned me off the idea of teaching! When not running or swimming I write, and when I’m not doing all of the above I’m reading. And if someone could invent a way for me to read during a four-kilometre swim I’d be even happier!”

To my nephews and niece Ben, Tommy, Peter and

Katherine (Kathy) McNamara. You have all been

through so much in your young lives and I am in awe

of how you have coped. I love each of you very dearly

and dedicate this book to you in acknowledgement of

your struggles, your tragedies and your joys that I will

always share with you, not with a glance of pity but

with the steady gaze of compassion.

I would also like to give my heartfelt thanks and

appreciation to the doctors and nursing staff of the

Royal Hobart Hospital’s Intensive Care Unit for their

invaluable help in the research conducted for this

novel, as well as Dee Nally from Salamanca Pharmacy

for her advice. Thank you all!

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT do you mean, he wants me to stop my research on the coma recovery assessment project?’ Allegra Tallis asked the nursing sister on duty in Intensive Care. ‘That’s outrageous. The CEO gave me his full support, I’ve got ethics approval and I’ve got funding!’

Louise Banning gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I know all that but Dr Addison is the new Director of ICTU and A and E now, and what he says goes.’

‘Not if I can help it,’ Allegra growled. ‘I’m not giving up months of research to satisfy some control freak’s demands to run a tight ship. Who does he think he is anyway? He might be the new director but if he thinks he can tell me what to—’

‘Dr Tallis?’ A deep male voice spoke from just behind her. ‘We haven’t had the opportunity to meet since I arrived. I’d like to speak to you in my office—now, if you don’t mind.’

Allegra swung around to see a tall dark-haired man in his early thirties towering over her, the deep brown intensity of his eyes as they connected with hers making her throat move up and down involuntarily in a tiny swallow.

‘Oh … Dr Addison. Well, I’m just seeing a patient right now …’ she said.

His gaze hardened as one dark brow lifted in an arc of derision. ‘Sister Banning is your patient, is she?’

Allegra tightened her mouth. ‘No, of course not—I mean in the unit. I can see you in about five minutes.’

‘Make if four,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a crammed schedule this morning.’ He continued on this way, his starched white coat brushing against her arm as he went past.

Louise’s brows rose expressively once he was out of their hearing. ‘Not the best first meeting, I would say.’

‘No.’ Allegra frowned crossly. ‘Well, I’ve been on night shift for the last week. I wasn’t here for his welcome thingy.’ She twisted her mouth and added, ‘God, what a pompous idiot.’

‘Yes, but a rather good-looking idiot, don’t you think?’

She gave a little snort. ‘If you have a thing for the tall, dark, brooding type.’

‘You never know—he might improve on acquaintance,’ Louise said. ‘He’s got a very good reputation. He’s been headhunted especially for the post so he can’t be all that difficult to work with.’

‘Yeah, well, I still think Dougal Brenton should have got the job,’ Allegra said. ‘He’s been at Melbourne Memorial for years, and instead they bring in someone just because he’s worked overseas in a war zone.’

Louise glanced at her watch. ‘Could be this will be a war zone if you don’t keep your appointment with him,’ she said. ‘I’ll keep on eye on things here. You’d better go.’

‘Thanks, I won’t be long.’

Dr Joel Addison’s office was in the middle of the multi-million-dollar newly built intensive care and trauma unit, providing the city of Melbourne with a state-of-the-art trauma and acute care centre—in fact, the largest in the country. With twenty-six ICU beds, a burns unit, a ten-bed trauma receiving area and two fully equipped operating rooms all in the same complex, it offered a breadth of care in one site that was second to none.

Allegra gave the director’s door a quick hard knock and waited for the command to come in. When he gave it in a blunt one-word response, she opened the door to find him seated behind his desk with a large pile of paperwork spread out before him.

He rose as she came in, his height seeming all the more intimidating in the confines of his office.

He offered her a hand across his desk. ‘We haven’t met formally. I’m Joel Addison, the new director of ICTU and A and E.’

Allegra placed her hand in his briefly, her eyes skittering away from the chocolate-brown depths of his. ‘Allegra Tallis.’

‘Please, sit down, Dr Tallis,’ he said. He waited until she was seated before resuming his own seat, his dark eyes steady on hers. ‘You’re an anaesthetist, I believe.’

‘Yes. I’m on a twelve-month rotation in ICTU,’ she answered, trying not to fidget like a naughty schoolgirl called into the headmaster’s office. Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she would have loved to run her tongue over her lips to moisten them, but didn’t dare do so with those dark, fathomless eyes seemingly watching her every movement.

A heavy silence pulsed for a moment or two. Allegra felt each thrumming second of it, wondering what he was thinking behind the screen of his darkly handsome features.

She hadn’t had time to reapply her lipstick and her hair was falling from its clip at the back of her head. Heaven knew what her eyes looked like after a week of night duty. She’d barely been able to see out of them that morning when she’d dragged herself out of bed, but she knew there were shadows on top of shadows beneath them that no amount of cover-up could have concealed.

Her brief meeting with him in the corridor hadn’t given her time to examine his face in any detail but now she could see how lean and chiselled his cleanly shaven jaw was. His skin was tanned, as if he spent outdoors whatever time he had away from the hospital. His hair was thick and dark with a hint of a wave running through it, and the way it was currently styled it looked as if his long fingers had been its most recent combing tool. His eyes were a deep brown, so dark she couldn’t tell what size his pupils were as they seemed to be indistinguishable from his irises.

‘I’ve heard some interesting things about you, Dr Tallis,’ he said into the silence.

‘Oh?’

He leaned back in his seat, his posture positively reeking of indolent superiority as his eyes held hers. ‘Yes.’

She held his unwavering gaze with steely determination, not even allowing herself to blink. ‘And?’

‘I have some concerns about your research project. I find it hard to justify. I would appreciate your explanation of its scientific merit. As far as I can see, it would be more appropriate at a mind and body expo than in an ICU unit.’

Allegra straightened her spine, her green eyes flashing with fury at his condescending attitude. ‘I’ve had full ethics approval for my coma recovery assessment project,’ she informed him. ‘And I have a research grant from the hospital.’

‘The ethics is not what I take issue with, Dr Tallis, it’s the scientific merit, unfortunately, in my opinion, spelt out by the first letters of the project name. As far as I can see, the research committee seemed swayed by factors other than scientific validity.’

She shifted in her seat again. ‘I don’t exactly know what you’re getting at, but if you read the proposal …’ It hit her then, the acronym he had made of her project. CRAP. She inwardly seethed but she was loath to allow him the credit of making a joke out of something she took very seriously.

His cool little smile already suggested to her his inbuilt cynicism. She’d seen scepticism before, but somehow Dr Joel Addison took it to a whole new level. She silently fumed at his attitude, wishing yet again that Dougal Brenton had been given the job of new director.

‘I have read it—several times. How long have you been at Melbourne Memorial?’ he said.

‘I did my training here,’ she answered.

‘So you haven’t worked anywhere else?’

It was amazing how someone who had worked overseas always had to hold it over the heads of those who hadn’t, Allegra thought resentfully. She’d seen it time and time again. Even registrars, who, after a short stint in the UK or even in a developing country, came back with a superior attitude, as if Australia was a backwater wasteland with limited training experiences.

‘No,’ she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘I haven’t as yet had that wonderful privilege.’

He ignored her comment to ask, ‘What is the gist of this project—in one sentence?’

Allegra forced her shoulders to relax, wanting to come across as coolly efficient and in control. ‘I’m examining the effect on coma recovery of different methods of sensory contact, using a BIS monitor as a key detector of effect,’ she said.

‘Sensory contact …’ He lifted one dark brow in query. ‘Such as?’

She gave him a very direct look, mentally preparing herself for his reaction, a reaction she had seen far too many times to hope that this time would be any different. ‘Reiki therapy, massage therapy, music therapy and aromatherapy.’

‘So …’ The leather of his chair creaked as he leaned back even further, his expression unmistakably mocking. ‘It sounds to me that if ever I’m feeling a little tense in the shoulders, I should head right on down to ICTU, feign a coma in one of the incredibly expensive beds and hope for a quick massage from you. Is that right, Dr Tallis?’

Allegra felt her anger rising to an almost intolerable level. ‘I believe that human touch is an important part of a patient’s recovery, comatose or not,’ she said through tight lips.

‘Important—I doubt it,’ he returned. ‘What ICU specialises in is ensuring good oxygenation and blood pressure maintenance—if brain injury is not too severe, recovery will occur. As far as I can see, these alternative therapies are marginal at best, maybe counter-productive at worst. There is no scientific evidence that they are effective, and attempts to prove their unlikely effectiveness are unaffordable in this unit.’

‘That’s not true. Reiki therapy has been shown to increase local circulation and—’

‘Dr Tallis.’ The little mocking smile was still in place. ‘Increasing the circulation by touching someone’s arm is not the same as increasing cerebral blood flow. And these smells and so-called natural aromas, your oils or whatever—what if someone suffers an allergic reaction to them?’

‘I’ve done a literature review on—’

‘I’ve seen the “literature review”, as you call it, hardly peer-reviewed journals—more like the latest women’s magazines.’

‘That’s so totally unfair!’

‘Look, Dr Tallis, you’ve spent—what is it now?—six years at medical school and a further four years studying anaesthesia. It’s called medical science. That’s what we practise here, and it’s damn expensive. Leave the quackery to the quacks and let’s get on with the job of saving lives. That is what you have been trained to do and that is your primary responsibility while you are working in ICTU.’

‘Patrick Naylor, the CEO, has given me his approval,’ she put in with a tilt of her chin.

He held her defiant gaze for an infinitesimal pause, before asking, ‘Is it true that you and he are an item?’

Allegra felt hot colour rush up into her face. How had he found out about her one dinner with Patrick? How had anyone found out about it? One date did not constitute a relationship as far as she was concerned and, besides, Patrick was still getting over a nasty separation. She had agreed to have dinner with him more because she had felt sorry for him than any degree of attraction on her part. It had been her first date in eighteen months and certainly no one’s business but her own.

‘I hardly see that my private life is any concern of yours,’ she said with a heated glare.

‘No, indeed, but if it interferes with how ICTU is run then it becomes of great concern to me. I’m here to put ICTU at Melbourne Memorial on the map as best practice for trauma reception and acutely ill patients, and I will not tolerate either my reputation or that of this hospital with the introduction of alternative “medicine” practices that do not have a scientific leg to stand on. We’ve a got a big enough workload with conventional medical care.’

Allegra got stiffly to her feet. ‘The work I’m doing on my project does not interfere with my regular workload. I do most of it in my spare time.’

He rose to his feet, his superior height immediately casting a shadow over her. ‘I’m going to give you a month to get whatever results you can, but then I’m reviewing it. And let me tell you, if there are any complaints about the methods you are using then I’ll pull the plug on your study there and then. This is a new unit and every professional and political eye is focused on it to make sure the hefty amount of public money that’s been allocated to it has been spent wisely. And my reputation is riding on it as well. I don’t want the press to get wind of trauma patients having their tarot cards read as part of their recovery program in ICTU.’

Allegra had never felt so incensed in her life. Her hands were clenched by her sides so she didn’t give in to the temptation to slap that supercilious smirk off his face. She didn’t trust herself to speak even if she could have located her voice; it seemed to be trapped somewhere in the middle of her throat where a choking nut of anger was firmly lodged.

‘Good day, Dr Tallis,’ he said, moving past his desk to open the door for her. ‘I’m sure you’ve got patients to see. I don’t want to keep you from them any longer.’

She strode past him with her head high, her mouth tight and her eyes sparking with ire.

‘Oh, and one more thing,’ he said, just as she’d brushed past.

She stopped and turned around to face him, her expression visibly taut with rage. ‘Yes?’

His eyes twinkled with something that looked suspiciously like amusement as he took in her flushed features. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, for someone who is so into alternative relaxation therapies, you seem a little tense. Have you thought about booking in for a massage yourself?’

‘Why?’ she asked with a curl of her lip. ‘Are you offering your services?’

He suddenly smiled, revealing perfectly even white teeth. ‘I’m not sure in this case that my touch would have the desired effect.’

‘Not unless I was completely comatose,’ she clipped back, and stalked out.

CHAPTER TWO

‘HOW did your meeting with the director go?’ Louise asked later that morning.

‘Grr …’Allegra answered with a fiery look. ‘Every time I think of that man I want to punch something.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you,’ Louise remarked. ‘You’re always the one telling the rest of us how to chill out and relax. Is he really going to put a stop to your study?’

‘He’s giving me a month to prove that it’s worthy of “medical science”—his version of science anyway,’ Allegra answered. ‘But how can I do anything in a month? It all depends on what patients come in. We haven’t had a coma patient since poor Alice Greeson, three weeks ago, and she didn’t recover.’ She blew out a sigh of frustration. ‘I have to change his mind. I really want to do this study, Louise—it’s important to me.’

The hospital intercom suddenly blared out in a tinny voice, ‘Code Blue, Surgical Ward,’ repeating it several times.

‘Got to go, Louise,’ Allegra said, heading for the lift. ‘I’m on the crash team this morning.’

The surgical ward was on the sixth floor, but when Allegra got to the bank of lifts none of them seemed to be moving. She shifted from foot to foot impatiently, before turning and heading for the fire exit. She started running up the stairs two at a time, glad she’d resumed her fitness programme now that Christmas had passed.

When she arrived on the ward the curtains were drawn around one of the beds in room two, the crash trolley, two nurses and the intern already doing cardiac massage on the patient.

‘What’s the story?’ she asked, as she pushed aside the curtains.

‘Sixty-five-year-old male, two days post right hemicolectomy,’ the intern answered. ‘The nurses were getting him out of bed for a wash and he collapsed. Looks like a PE, maybe an infarct.’

‘Is the floor anaesthetist on the way?’ Allegra asked.

‘He might not be coming,’ one of the nurses answered.

‘There’s some sort of complicated case going on in Theatre that’s tied up a lot of staff.’

‘I’ll intubate him,’ Allegra said, moving to the head of the bed and picking up the sucker from the emergency trolley. ‘You’ll need to help me,’ she said to the nurse on her left.

‘But I’m just out of grad school,’ the young and rather nervous-looking nurse said. ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’ve never been to an arrest before.’

‘Just do what I say, you’ll be fine. Turn on wall suction,’ she said, as she suctioned the patient’s mouth and reapplied the oxygen mask. Allegra picked an endotracheal tube and checked the laryngoscope battery. ‘OK,’ she said to the intern who was bagging the patient between cardiac compressions from the surgical ward nurse, ‘I’ll tube now. Put on cricoid pressure, will you?’

The intern stepped aside and applied cricoid pressure while Allegra removed the mask from the bag and oxygen. She rapidly intubated the patient and connected the oxygen, handing the bag back to the intern to continue ventilation while she secured the tube. The medical registrar, Peter Newton, had by now arrived and was looking at the ECG trace.

‘He’s got a rhythm,’ he said. ‘Looks like VT We’ll need to cardiovert. I’ll do it.’ He took the paddles from the defibrillator and dialled up 100, applied the paddles to the patient’s chest and called, ‘Clear.’ All staff removed their hands from the patient while the intern continued to ventilate. With a jerk the patient’s back arched and then fell back as the current was applied.

‘He’s in sinus rhythm,’ Allegra noted, looking at the monitor. ‘What drugs do you want up?’ she asked the registrar.

‘He’s had an infarct is my guess. There’s a few VEBs. I’ll start a lignocaine infusion, but we need to get him round to ICTU and keep him well oxygenated. I’ll contact my boss and bring him round to ICTU for a consult.’

‘You look as if you could do with a bit of oxygen yourself,’ Allegra said, taking in Peter’s flushed features. ‘Are you OK?’

He gave her sheepish look. ‘The lifts were busy. I had to run up two flights of stairs. I guess I’m not as fit as I thought.’

‘Lucky you,’ she said as she moved aside for the trolley men who had come to do the transfer. ‘I had to run up six.’ She gave him a smile and added, ‘Go and have a glass of water. I’m going back to ICTU anyway so I’ll hand the patient over.’

Allegra accompanied the patient, Gareth Fisher, to ICTU and had not long informed the surgeon, Bruce Crickton, of his patient’s condition when the ICTU registrar Danielle Capper approached.

‘Dr Tallis, can you help me on bed five?’ she asked. ‘It’s Mr Munsfield, the Whipple procedure. He was extubated yesterday and was doing OK, but his sats have gone down in the last hour and he’s on 60 per cent oxygen. He’s become febrile and has abdo pain.’

‘Sure.’ Allegra began walking with Danielle to the far end of ICTU, where bed five was situated. ‘Have you had any bloods done?’

‘They should be on the fax now in the office. I’ll grab them and see you there,’ Danielle said.

Allegra reached bed five and after greeting Fiona Clark, the nurse in charge of beds four and five, took a look at the patient, who was pale, slightly cyanosed and very breathless. His sats monitor showed 80 per cent, BP 100 and pulse 110.

‘Deep breaths, Mr Munsfield,’ Fiona instructed the patient. ‘I’ve just given you some IV morphine for the pain.’

‘What was the last temperature, Fiona?’ Allegra asked.

‘Thirty-nine. It’s been up all morning,’ Fiona answered.

‘Where’s the pain, Mr Munsfield?’ Allegra addressed the patient gently.

‘In … my stomach, and in my back …’ he gasped and puffed. ‘In the middle of my back … like a knife …’

Danielle arrived with the printouts, accompanied by Joel Addison, who had been collecting pathology reports from the printer. ‘Hb is 80, white cell count 25 with neutrophilia, and his amylase and lipase are through the roof, Dr Tallis,’ he said, looking intently through the sheath of figures before he met her eyes briefly. ‘What do you feel is the problem?’

‘Looks like we’ve got pancreatitis, maybe pancreatic sepsis. Could have an anastomotic leak,’ Allegra said.

‘I agree. We should also consider an anastomotic leak as the precipitating problem,’ he suggested.

‘Danielle, get the surgeon down here now. We need an urgent surgical review, and get X-ray up here, too—we need a chest X-ray. Those sats are worse. My guess is adult respiratory distress syndrome.’

‘ARDS is almost certain, Dr Tallis. We’ll need to intubate pretty much straight away but it’s your call,’ Joel said, giving her an unreadable look.

Allegra explained to the patient that there was a problem in his abdomen and that it was affecting his lungs, making it hard for him to breathe. She explained the procedure of intubation to him before instructing Fiona to obtain drugs and airway equipment.

‘His Hb has dropped too, Dr Tallis,’ Joel said, when she’d turned back from the patient. ‘There are a couple of cross-matched units left over from surgery.’ He turned to address Danielle. ‘Can you retrieve those from the blood fridge while I help Dr Tallis here?’

After pre-oxygenating as much as possible, Allegra got Joel to inject 10mg suxamethonium and 10mg diazepam and applied a mask and bag.

‘He’s hard to inflate. His lungs are stiff with pulmonary oedema,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to intubate him—he’s too hard to keep bagging. Hand me the laryngoscope and tube, Dr Addison.’

Allegra introduced the laryngoscope and attempted intubation but the patient had only been extubated forty-eight hours before and the larynx was red and swollen. To make matters worse, he had a short, bullish neck. She couldn’t see the cords and reverted to bag and mask, but could hardly keep a seal on the face with the mask because the insufflation pressure needed was so high.

She muttered a curse under her breath, conscious of Joel watching her every move. ‘I’ll have to try again. We’re in real trouble here.’

‘I can see that, but you’re the most skilled here at airway management,’ Joel said calmly. ‘Just tell me how you want me to assist.’

Allegra threw him a quick grateful glance and tried the laryngoscope again but still could not intubate the patient. Mr Munsfield’s sats were now 70 per cent and he was looking deeply cyanosed.

‘We need to get an airway, Dr Tallis. He’s badly hypoxic and throwing off VEBs,’ Joel said.

‘I can’t get a tube in,’ she said, her brow beading with perspiration. ‘I’ll have to do a surgical airway. Open the tray, Dr Addison, stat.’

Joel opened the surgical airway pack on the top of the trolley. Allegra put on sterile gloves and made a transverse incision over the cricothyroid membrane with a disposable scalpel. Taking a pair of artery forceps, she widened the hole, and passed in a cuffed tracheostomy tube and inflated the cuff, then connected the tube to the oxygen bag. The chest rose and fell with each pump on the bag, though the insufflation pressure was high.

Allegra flicked her gaze to the sats monitor, which showed the patient’s sats coming up into the 90s. She connected the ventilator and set the dials to cope with the high pressure and poor oxygen exchange.

‘Well done, Dr Tallis,’ Joel said, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. ‘That was a top-notch surgical airway under pressure. Things look back under control here. I’ll leave you to fill Harry in—he’s just arrived.’

He moved off towards the A and E area before Allegra could thank him for his help. She frowned as he went through the swing doors, her feelings towards him undergoing a confusing change which she couldn’t quite explain.

The surgical registrar arrived with the consultant, Harry Upton, and was briefed by Allegra.

‘He needs to be opened, I agree. The pancreatic anastomosis has probably leaked, and on top of that he’s got pancreatitis. Thanks for salvaging the situation, Allegra.’

Danielle filled Harry in on the rest of the patient’s details before he turned back to speak to Allegra. ‘You look like you could do with a break.’

Allegra blew a wisp of damp hair off her face. ‘I’m off for a break right now. It’s been one of those mornings.’

‘So you’ve finally met our new director,’ Harry said with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘I didn’t see you at his welcome function last week.’

‘I was on nights,’ she explained, her mouth tightening a fraction.

Harry grinned at her sour expression. ‘So what gives, Allegra? You don’t like his … er … aura?’

She gave him a mock reproving look. ‘Don’t you start, Harry. He totally rubbished my project as if it was a load of pseudoscience. “Can’t afford alternative therapies in his science-based unit”, I think was how he put it.’

‘Yeah, well, I guess he’s under a lot of pressure to make this place work,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of cash been poured into it, and there are a few irate unit directors who think they should have got the funds instead. If it doesn’t shape up fast, his head will roll.’ He grimaced as his pager went off. ‘I’m due in Theatre. I’ll see you around. Good work on Mr Munsfield, by the way. You and Joel Addison make quite an impressive team.’

She gave him another mock reproving glance but a small smile softened it. ‘Thanks, Harry.’

Allegra was using the staff restroom to freshen up when Kellie Wilton, one of her colleagues, came in.

‘I was hoping I’d run into you,’ Kellie said as she washed her hands at the basin. ‘I heard about your meeting with Dr Addison.’

Allegra frowned as she twisted her light brown hair back into its clip. ‘The hospital grapevine is running rampant again, I see,’ she said, turning to look at her friend. ‘Who told you about it?’

‘Louise mentioned it at morning tea,’ Kellie said, leaning back against the basin. ‘It certainly sounds as if you got off on the wrong foot. What’s his problem with your project? I thought Patrick Naylor was touting it as a unique study.’

‘He did, but apparently Dr Addison is under the impression that his decisions bear more weight than those of the chief executive officer. I hate men with overblown egos and closed minds.’

‘How is your relationship going with Patrick, by the way?’

Allegra put her hands on her hips and gave her friend a frustrated grimace. ‘Listen, Kellie, I had dinner with him—once. It wasn’t even in a posh restaurant and I ended up paying because his credit card wouldn’t swipe. We had pizza and a bottle of awful red wine, which I was still paying for with a headache the next morning. He spent the whole time complaining about his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Hardly what I’d call a date.’

‘Yeah, I’d heard his separation had hit him hard,’ Kellie reflected. ‘You do need to get out more, Allegra, with some fresh talent. Have you ever thought about using a dating service? My sister did and got a real honey.’

‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing, Kellie. What do you think—I’m desperate or something?’ Allegra gaped at her. ‘I can find my own dates without the help of a computer, thanks very much.’

‘One bad dinner in two years is not a good track record,’ Kellie pointed out.

‘Eighteen months,’ Allegra corrected her swiftly.

‘Look, Allegra, you’re twenty-eight years old. We’ve known each other a while now, and as far as I can tell the only fun you’ve had lately is sharing tubs of chocolate-chip ice cream with me while watching soppy movies at my place.’

Allegra sucked in her stomach and groaned. ‘Don’t remind me. It’s taken me four weeks to get my jeans to do up again after the last time.’

Kellie smiled. ‘Some of us are going to go out for drinks this evening after work. Why don’t you join us?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Just down to the pub on Elgin Street. It won’t be a late night. You’re not on call, are you?’

Allegra shook her head in relief. ‘No, thank God.’

‘So will you come?’ Kellie urged. ‘You never know, you might pick up.’

‘What? A cold sore or a strep throat?’

Kellie laughed. ‘You are a sad case, Allegra. You’ve been hanging around unconscious people way too long.’

‘Maybe,’ Allegra said with a wry smile. ‘But they don’t break your hearts and they’re not unfaithful.’

Kellie’s expression softened. ‘And they don’t always live, no matter how hard you try.’ She placed a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. ‘Alice Greeson didn’t have a chance, Allegra. You did your best.’

‘I know …’ Her shoulders slumped a little. ‘But telling the family is always so hard. She was just twenty-one. I thought she was responding …’

‘She was brain dead, Allegra,’ Kellie said. ‘It was hopeless right from the start. You did what you could but the brain injury she sustained in that car accident was beyond anything medical science could repair.’

Allegra gave a long sigh. ‘I know, but I guess I was hoping for a miracle. They happen occasionally, I just so wanted one for Alice and her family.’

‘You’ll get your miracle one day,’ Kellie said. ‘We all do. It’s what keeps us going. Why else would we work the hours we do if there were no miracles?’

Allegra smiled. ‘You’re right. Thanks, Kel. What time did you say drinks are on?’

‘Just come when you’ve finished your shift. The place will be rocking by the time you get there so come no matter what time you finish. You need some chill-out time.’

‘You sound like my mother.’

‘Yes, well, mothers often know best, although I’m not sure mine would approve of the date I have lined up for the weekend.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re doing that internet dating thing, like your sister?’

Kellie grinned. ‘Why not? Look at her, six months on and she’s married and pregnant to a gorgeous guy. It could happen to any of us.’

Allegra rolled her eyes. ‘My mother would have a coronary if I told her I was dating someone I’d met on-line. My father would be even worse. They’d be doing a personality inventory and an astrology and numerology profile on the guy, and checking out his background with a private investigator. I think I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way, you know, boy meets girl, that sort of thing.’

‘That sort of thing usually ends in divorce,’ Kellie pointed out. ‘Physical attraction is one thing but finding someone you can relate to is the stuff that really counts. You need to be friends first, lovers second.’

‘Yeah … I guess you’re right, but with the sort of hours I work, how am I going to find the time to make friends with anyone halfway decent? Most men expect you to sleep with them on the second or third date these days. They’re not interested in friendship, they’re interested in getting laid as soon as they can.’

‘That’s why the dating service is so useful,’ Kellie said. ‘It cuts corners for you by weeding out the weirdos and the ones who have no interests in common with you. Think about it. I can get Jessica to do a preliminary printout for you to show you how it works.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Allegra said, as she shouldered open the door. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

The door swung shut behind her but halfway along the corridor she came face to face with Patrick.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said, planting a moist kiss to her mouth before she could turn her head away in time.

‘Patrick … I …’ She tried to push herself away but his hands were heavy on her shoulders.

‘Have dinner with me tonight?’ he asked, his tone pleading.

She opened her mouth to respond when just past his right shoulder she caught sight of Joel, coming out of one of the smaller meeting rooms used for conferencing with the relatives of patients. His dark eyes were cynical and there was a hint of something that looked very much like a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

‘Sorry, Patrick, but I promised Kellie I’d join some of the others for drinks later this evening,’ she said. ‘Maybe some other time.’

‘I’ll hold you to it,’ he said, and, pressing another quick kiss to her mouth before she could avoid it, went on his way in the opposite direction.

Joel stepped away from the doorjamb he’d been leaning against and walked towards her, his eyes very dark as they held hers. ‘Dr Tallis, no doubt you will disagree with me on principle, but perhaps it might be prudent to refrain from fraternising with members of staff in the corridors of the unit. I wouldn’t want any of our patients’ relatives to think that you’re acting unprofessionally.’

‘I wasn’t acting unprofessionally, I was just—’

‘Dr Tallis.’ His low deep tone brooked no resistance as he pointed to the room he had left a short time ago. ‘In that conference room are the parents of a young man who was admitted to ICTU a short time ago. He fell from a building site and has suspected spinal injuries. I do not think that they need to see right now two members of staff going for it in the corridor.’

She glared at him in affront. ‘We were not going for—’ But she cut herself short when out of the corner of her eye she saw the conference-room door open down the corridor. She watched in silence as a middle-aged couple came out with the head neurosurgeon, Anthony Pardle, in attendance, their faces ravaged by the emotion they were going through on hearing of the extent of their son’s injuries.

As much as Allegra wanted the last word, she knew it would be pointless. Joel had yet again stripped her of her professional dignity, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone else to witness it. She didn’t understand why he had to be so obstructive. He had been so helpful with Mr Munsfield earlier, but now it looked as if the momentary truce was at an end.

She waited until the patient’s parents and Anthony Pardle had passed before lowering her gaze and briefly apologising, even though the words felt like acid in her throat. ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Dr Addison.’

‘Fine.’

Allegra felt the silent magnetic pull of his dark brown gaze, her breath stalling somewhere in the middle of her chest as their eyes locked. The silence was so thick she felt as if it was going to choke her. Her heart began to thump a little irregularly as his gaze slipped to her mouth for a nanosecond before returning to her wide green eyes.

‘Fine …’ he said again, running a hand through the thickness of his hair in a manner that appeared to Allegra to be slightly agitated. ‘I’ll … er … let you get back to work.’

She watched as he turned and walked with long purposeful strides up the length of the corridor, before disappearing from sight through the swing doors at the end.

She blew out a little uneven breath and gave herself a mental shake.

Don’t even think about it, she scolded herself sternly. Dr Joel Addison was definitely in the ‘too hard’ basket. And for the sake of her heart he had better stay there.

CHAPTER THREE

THE pub was noisy and crowded by the time Allegra made her way there, but she wove her way through the clots of people to the table where some of the other Melbourne Memorial staff were sitting, chatting volubly over their drinks.

Kellie waved to her as she approached. ‘Come and sit here, Allegra.’ She made room for her on the booth seat. ‘What will you have to drink?’

‘I’d better start with something soft,’ she said. ‘After five nights of on-call my head for alcohol gets a little wonky. I’ll have a lemon, lime and bitters, but you sit down—I’ll get it. Do you want a top-up?’

‘Thanks. Vodka and orange,’ Kellie said.

Allegra made her way to the bar, saying a quick hello to two of the surgical registrars who’d been on call with her the last week. After a short exchange with them she carried the drinks back to the table where Kellie was and sat down with a sigh of relief marking the end of a stressful day.

‘How’s your coma study going, Allegra?’ Margaret Hoffman, an anaesthetic registrar, asked.

Allegra exchanged a quick glance with Kellie before responding. ‘The new director doesn’t think it’s scientific enough for his exacting standards. He’s giving me a month to prove it’s worthwhile.’

‘Oh?’ Margaret looked surprised. ‘But it’s all been approved and your work on the Greeson girl was worthwhile, I thought.’

‘The Greeson girl died,’ Allegra said with a despondent sigh.

‘I know, but what you might not have realised at the time was how much it meant to her parents, having you there. I saw the way they drew comfort from you massaging their daughter’s legs and arms, touching her like a real person, instead of someone who’d been written off as a vegetable. You gave them a lot of comfort in a tragic situation, Allegra. Even if the study achieves nothing for the patient, it sure as hell gives the relatives comfort—shows that the staff are treating their loved one with dignity, like a real person.’

‘She’s right, Allegra,’ Kellie said. ‘That’s what’s missing from medicine these days. The staff are all run off their feet, no one has time any more for simple things, like holding a patient’s hand or listening to their worries or giving them a soothing back rub.’

‘I guess you’re right. But if I’m going to show anything from the study, I’m going to need the support of the director,’ Allegra said, reaching for her drink. ‘He seems against it on principle, and we haven’t exactly had the best start to a working relationship.’

‘I thought he was lovely when I met him at the welcome function,’ Margaret said with a twinkle in her eye, ‘and good-looking, too, which of course always helps.’

‘I wouldn’t care if he looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame as long as he lets me do my project—it’s really important to me,’ Allegra growled.

‘Ah, but your involvement with Patrick Naylor gives you the trump card, surely,’ Margaret said. ‘I say, why not aim for the top if you can.’

Allegra frowned as she put down her drink. ‘I’m not involved with Patrick. Not in any way. Who on earth starts these rumours?’

It was Margaret’s turn to frown. ‘But I heard him tell everyone in the doctors’ room the other day how you had dinner together. He’s really into you, Allegra. He made that very clear.’

‘He’s still officially married, for God’s sake,’ Allegra said. ‘Besides, I’m not the slightest bit attracted to him.’

‘Well, someone’s definitely got their lines crossed,’ Margaret said, as she leaned back in her seat. ‘The way Patrick tells it, it sounds as if you are the reason his marriage split up in the first place.’

‘No!’ Allegra gasped. ‘That’s not true! I only went out with him as he seemed so down. It was more of a goodwill gesture. I was worried about him. He told me his wife had left him and he started to cry. I’m hopeless when men do that, it really gets to me. I just can’t help going into rescue mode.’

‘Uh-oh,’ Kellie said, glancing towards the bar. ‘Don’t look now but guess who just walked in?’

Allegra groaned and put her head in her hands. ‘Please, don’t let it be Patrick Naylor. I just couldn’t bear it.’

‘It’s not Patrick.’

Allegra lifted her head out of her hands and swivelled in her chair to see Joel looking straight at her. She turned back to her drink, her face feeling hot all of a sudden.

‘Guess who’s blushing,’ Kellie teased, and, leaning closer, whispered, ‘Go on, admit it, Allegra, he’s hot. Look at those biceps—he must be lifting bulldozers in the gym.’

‘Shut up—he’ll hear you,’ she muttered hoarsely.

‘He’s coming over,’ Kellie said. ‘Hello, Dr Addison. There’s a spare seat over here opposite Allegra.’

Allegra stifled a groan and sent her friend a blistering glare.

‘Thanks,’ Joel said, taking the seat facing Allegra. ‘Can I get anyone a fresh drink?’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Margaret said with a friendly smile.

‘Me, too,’ Kellie said. Giving Margaret a surreptitious nudge, she got to her feet. ‘We’re calling it a night anyway. We’re on early, aren’t we, Margi?’

‘Are we? Oh, yes … silly me.’ Margaret grinned sheepishly and wriggled out of the booth. ‘See you later.’

Allegra would have sent another scorching glare her friend’s way but Joel’s dark gaze had already searched for and located hers.

‘What about you, Dr Tallis?’ he asked, once the girls had left. ‘What’s your poison?’

‘I’m only drinking soft this evening,’ she said, her eyes falling away from his.

‘On call?’

‘No.’

A small silence tightened the air.

‘I hope I didn’t frighten your friends away,’ he said after a moment. ‘They seemed in a hurry to leave once I arrived.’

Her eyes came back to his, her expression taut with resentment. ‘They were trying to set us up. Surely you could see that?’

He frowned in puzzlement. ‘Set us up? What do you mean?’

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What planet had he just come down from?

‘Set up as in matchmake,’ she explained with a disapproving grimace. ‘Kellie does it all the time. It drives me nuts.’

Joel took a leisurely sip of his lime and soda as he studied her expression. She had a wry twist to her mouth, as if the thought of being connected to him in any way was impossible.

‘I take it she doesn’t approve of your relationship with the CEO?’ he inserted into the silence.

‘I am not having a relationship with the CEO.’ She bit out each word with determination.

‘So that little tableau I witnessed earlier today was an aberration of some sort?’

‘Patrick and I are friends … sort of …’ she said. ‘He’s going through a particularly acrimonious separation. I found myself lending an ear one day and now it seems the hospital is rife with the rumours of us being involved. Nothing could be further from the truth.’

‘Hospitals are like that. Members of staff have only to stop and talk in the corridor and everyone thinks something’s going on,’ he commented. ‘But perhaps you should be straight with him. He seems to think you’re his for the taking.’

Allegra frowned. ‘I know … but I don’t know how to avoid hurting his feelings.’

Joel finished his drink. ‘He’ll get over it. Tell him you’re involved with someone else.’

‘Yeah, right, like who?’ she said, with another rueful twist to her mouth. ‘I work thirteen-hour shifts. I don’t even have time to do my own laundry and shopping, let alone find a date.’

‘I know what you mean,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I haven’t had a date in a year and a half. My mother is threatening to register me on an internet dating service.’

Allegra stared at him.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘What did I say?’

She gave her head a little shake and picked up her almost empty glass for something to do to occupy her hands. ‘Nothing … It’s just that Kellie was suggesting I do the same.’

‘When you think about it, it sounds good in theory.’

She scrunched up her face in scepticism. ‘You think so?’

‘Yeah.’ He leaned back in his seat, one arm lying casually along the back of the booth. ‘It cuts the chaff from the wheat, if you know what I mean.’

Allegra couldn’t stop a bubble of laughter escaping her lips. ‘Chaff and wheat? Is that how guys these days refer to women?’

He gave her an answering smile. ‘I guess it’s not the best metaphor, but I thought sheep and goats would probably be worse.’

‘You could be right,’ she said, still smiling.

Joel ran his eyes over her features, taking in the light brown slightly wavy hair that seemed to be protesting about being restrained at the back of her head with a clip of some sort; loose tendrils were falling out around her small ears, and one long strand was over one of her rainforest green eyes. He watched as she tucked it behind her ear with her small slim fingers, her nails short but neat. Her face was faintly shadowed with residual tiredness but he knew if he looked in a mirror right now, his would look very much the same. Her mouth was soft and full, and her skin creamy white, as if she hadn’t seen much of Melbourne’s hot summer.

She looked like she worked hard and he felt a little uncomfortable with how he had spoken to her earlier. She had a good reputation among the staff, everyone spoke highly of her dedication to patients, but he couldn’t help feeling her project had all the potential to provoke criticism and crackpot commentary as the new ICTU was evaluated by those who had backed its funding and those who had lost out on their own funding as a result. From what he’d heard so far, her study was time-consuming, had little theoretical basis and it would be hard to show results. And he of all people knew how important results were. His parents’ situation was living proof of how the wrong results could change everything—for ever.

‘So …’Allegra said, moistening her lips as she searched for something to fill the silence. ‘How are you enjoying things so far at Melbourne Memorial?’

‘It’s a great facility,’ he answered, ‘the first of its kind in Australia. Having Trauma Reception on the same floor as ICU means that ICU staff are at close hand to be involved with trauma management. It’s a very innovative concept, even for a level-3 trauma centre.’

‘Yes, it makes a lot of sense. Less handing over of patients from one group to another, involvement of ICU staff right from the start of resus, and less movement of patients, too,’ Allegra agreed. ‘Wheeling patients twenty metres straight into ICU, instead of the old arrangement of up two floors and the opposite end of the hospital is a huge plus in itself.’

‘And having the two fully equipped operating theatres in Trauma Reception is real cutting edge,’ Joel said, ‘although some of the surgeons and theatre staff I’ve spoken to haven’t been too keen on it, actually. They don’t like splitting the staff and equipment between the main theatre and us.’

‘It can be disorientating, working in an unfamiliar theatre,’ Allegra pointed out, in the surgeons’ defense.

He held her gaze for a moment. ‘There are some good people here. But it’s a high-pressure job and I’m very conscious of being the new broom, so to speak.’

‘You really like your metaphors, don’t you?’

His smile was crooked. ‘I do, don’t I?’

Allegra found the friendly, more approachable side to him totally refreshing and wondered if he was trying to make up for the bad start they’d had. Without the stark backdrop of the hospital and without his white coat and tie, he looked like any other good-looking guy in his early to mid-thirties. His face was marked by fatigue but, looking around the bar, most of the hospital staff who were still here looked much the same. It came with the job. Chronic tiredness was a given, especially in ICU, where the shifts were long and the work intense.

‘I heard you’ve been working overseas,’ she said, toying with the straw in her empty glass.

Joel’s eyes went to her hands before returning to her face. ‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Um … why not?’ she said, deciding she was starting to enjoy herself for the first time in ages. ‘Vodka and lime.’

‘Coming up,’ he said, and got up to get their drinks.

He came back and, placing her drink in front of her, took his seat opposite. ‘Yes, I was overseas for a while.’ He returned to her earlier question, his expression clouding a fraction.

‘Where were you stationed?’

‘In the Middle East.’

‘That would have been tough, I imagine.’

He took a sip of his drink before answering. ‘Yeah, it was.’

Allegra could sense he didn’t want to talk about it in any detail and wondered if he’d been involved in any of the skirmishes that had seen countless people injured or maimed for life.

She took another sip of her drink and changed the subject. ‘Are you a Melbourne boy?’

‘Yep, born and bred. What about you?’

‘I’m a bit of a crossbreed, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘My father is originally from Sydney and my mother is a Melbourne girl. They both live here now but not together. I’ve spent equal amounts of time with them over the years.’

‘They’re divorced?’

‘They never married in the first place,’ she said. ‘But they’re the best of friends. They never went down that blame-game route. They’re what you might call … progressive.’

‘Progressive?’

‘They have a sort of open relationship. They don’t live together but whenever my mum needs a partner for some function or other, she takes my dad, and vice versa.’ She gave him a little embarrassed glance and added, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they still occasionally sleep together.’

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘That’s pretty progressive.’

‘What about you?’ she asked, picking up her glass. ‘Are your parents still together?’

‘Yes, for something like thirty-five years.’

‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

His eyes moved away from hers as he reached for his glass, absently running the tips of two of his fingers through the beads of condensation around the sides. ‘I have a twin brother.’

There was something about his tone that alerted Allegra to an undercurrent of emotion. His expression was now shuttered, as if he regretted allowing the conversation to drift into such personal territory.

‘Are you identical?’ she ventured.

‘Yes and no.’

Allegra frowned at his noncommittal answer but before she could think of a response to it he met her eyes and asked, ‘What do your parents do for a living?’

‘My father’s a psychologist, who specialises in dream therapy, and my mother is a Tai Chi and yoga instructor.’

His eyebrows rose slightly. ‘No wonder you have a tendency towards the other-worldly.’

‘I would hardly call what I do that,’ she protested, with a reproving glance.

‘So what exactly is it you do?’ he asked, settling back into his seat once more.

‘You’ll only rubbish it so what would be the point?’

‘I promise to listen without comment,’ he said. ‘Look, right now we’re just two overworked, tired people in a bar, chatting over a drink, OK?’

She let out a tiny sigh after a moment’s hesitation. ‘All right.’ She took a little breath and briefly explained her theory of how human sensory touch could strongly trigger memories that might be integral to stimulating consciousness in a comatose patient. ‘There is evidence that skin sensation is wired up as our most primitive memory system, plugging more directly into primitive brain areas. If you think about your dreams, and record them after you wake up, the sensations you were experiencing just before you woke up are nearly always touch-related sensations. So—in this study, I encourage the relatives, particularly those who are most intimately involved with the patient, to touch them in predetermined ways. I teach them how to massage and touch their loved one in ways we think will trigger strong memories.’

Joel remained silent as she talked passionately about some of the trials she’d done, including one involving a post-heart-surgery coma patient.

‘It was striking,’ she said. ‘The relatives were advised to consider turning off his life support. There was virtually no sign of brain activity. But then his wife told me their daughter was flying back from Canada to say goodbye to him. She hadn’t seen him in fifteen years. When she arrived I got her to touch him on his eyebrows, nose and lips and talk to him just like she did when she was a child and he used to put her to bed with this little routine. His eyes opened, he looked directly at his daughter’s eyes for about thirty seconds, and then a few minutes later died peacefully.’

‘So he didn’t recover.’

Allegra tried not to be put off by the inherent cynicism in his tone. ‘No, but that’s not the point. He woke up in time to say goodbye. He recognised his daughter’s touch—some powerful memory was triggered that induced momentary consciousness.’

‘There’s no way of testing that scientifically,’ he pointed out.

‘I realise it’s just one case, and there was no measurement of brain activity being done on him. But that’s the whole point of my study now—to get some measurements of these effects. And other triggers, too. Some of the other therapies I use involve other body memories, such as smell and sound. Haven’t you ever heard a piece of music and found it took you back to a time that was significant to you? Music stirs emotions, so do certain aromas. And emotional memories are the most powerful, centred in the amygdala of the brain. The so-called healing properties of essential oils such as neroli, Roman chamomile, frankincense, bergamot, clary sage may have more to do with how they neurologically trigger emotional memory.’

‘Yes, but none of these are controlled substances—they could have contaminants. There are cases where clary sage used topically by pregnant women were associated with birth defects. Peppermint oil can trigger epilepsy. My concern is that you are introducing therapies into a high-tech area that have never been through any approval or evaluation process. If there was even the suggestion of some adverse reaction, we’d be crucified.’

‘I’m following strict guidelines—they’ve been approved by the ethics and research committees. My goal is to make a substantial breakthrough in coma recovery. I don’t want to be stopped by closed-minded bureaucracy.’

‘I suppose by that comment you’re referring to me.’

‘Well, you’ve hardly been encouraging,’ she said with a hint of pique.

‘It’s not my job to win a popularity contest. I have to run this new and very expensive department according to the guidelines laid down in my contract. And it boils down to, one, dollars and cents, keeping within the budget. And, two, best practice, with significant benefits from the expense of the new layout. I can’t be seen to be dabbling in pseudoscience with hard fought-over hospital money.’

‘So you still think it’s a worthless enterprise to touch a person who is ill or dying, or in a coma, do you?’ she asked, unable to remove the stringency from her tone. ‘For relatives and friends to spend hours by their bedside, holding their hand, stroking them and telling them how much they love them?’

He frowned at her censure. ‘No, of course not. It’s just that ICTU is cluttered enough as it is. It’s not the place or the right time to bring in alternative therapists and their potions and sounds. And think of the increased risk of infection if people came and went all the time without proper regulation.’

‘I don’t often introduce other therapists,’ she said. ‘I do most of the work myself.’

‘So you’ve got a degree in quackery as well as medicine, have you? What a busy little bee you have been over the last few years.’

Allegra got to her feet in one stiff movement, her expression tight with anger. ‘You know something, Dr Addison? It’s just as well you weren’t recruited for a popularity contest because if it was up to me, you wouldn’t have got past the first round of selection criteria.’

‘And what criteria would they be, I wonder?’ he asked, with a little curl of his lip. ‘Perhaps my aura isn’t giving off the right vibes or maybe my office doesn’t have the right Feng Shui. Perhaps you should make an appointment with me to rearrange it for me.’

She pressed her hands on the table and leaned across so the other people close by couldn’t hear, her green eyes flashing with anger. ‘The only things I’d like to rearrange are your attitude and personality, and if there wasn’t a law against it, I’d like to apply some touch therapy to your face as well—in the form of a very hard slap.’

His dark eyes glittered as they held hers. ‘Go right ahead, sweetheart, and see how quickly you get fired from the department.’

‘You can’t fire me,’ she spat back defiantly. ‘Patrick Naylor does the hiring and firing.’

He got to his feet, his sudden increase in height making her shrink back in intimidation. ‘I can assure you, Dr Tallis, that it would take just one word from me and the CEO will tear up your contract and your project into a thousand pieces,’ he said, and with one last glowering look brushed past her and left.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘SO HOW was your little drink last night with the director?’ Louise asked in the female staff change room the next morning.

Allegra scowled as she thrust her handbag into her locker and turned the key with a savage twist of her hand. ‘I’m going to kill Kellie Wilton and Margaret Hoffman.’

‘So he didn’t invite you back to his place for coffee, then?’

‘No, he did not. He threatened to have me fired, that’s what he did.’

‘Fired! Can he do that?’ Louise asked. ‘I thought the CEO was the only one who could hire or fire?’

‘I’m beginning to think Joel Addison could do anything if he put his mind to it.’

‘It’s tough, being at the top, Allegra,’ Louise pointed out reasonably. ‘There’s been a lot of opposition about the refurbishment being so innovative and all. Dr Addison is probably being overly cautious, which is perfectly understandable. You know the fuss the surgeons made about the new trauma theatre locations. If this unit doesn’t produce results and come in on budget, Dr Addison’s the one who will take the rap.’

‘I know all that,’ Allegra said, pocketing her locker key and turning to face Louise. ‘You know, for a while there last night I was starting to see a glimpse of a nice sort of man. He was chatty and seemed interested in what I had to say.’

‘So what happened?’

She gave a frustrated up-and-down movement of her shoulders. ‘Who knows? He just seems to really have it in for anyone a little to the left of what he believes is scientific. It’s as if it’s a personal agenda or something.’

‘Maybe someone in the past gave him a lousy massage,’ Louise said with a little grin.

Allegra rolled her eyes. ‘The only thing he wants massaged is his ego, but I for one am not going to do it.’

‘Have you told him your personal reasons for being so committed to your project?’

Allegra blew out a breath and leaned back against the lockers with a noisy rattle. ‘No … If I did, it would only make things worse. He’d only say I was looking through an emotional lens instead of a scientific one.’

‘But it might help him understand why it’s so important to you if you tell him what happened to your friend in med school,’ Louise said gently.

Allegra pushed herself away from the lockers as her beeper sounded. ‘Look, I’ve put what happened to Julie behind me. I can’t allow myself to dwell on it. It won’t change anything. But I owe it to her memory to stop it happening again and, so help me, God, Dr Addison had better not try and stop me.’

She made her way quickly to the trauma centre sandwiched between the ambulance bay and the main ICTU. Two trauma bays were in operation when she arrived, ambulance personnel, including two crews of Heli Flight Retrieval Paramedics intermingling with the A and E medical and nursing staff.

‘What’s going on?’ Allegra asked Alex Beswin, the A and E senior staffer, as she reached the scene of flurried activity.

‘Hi, Allegra. Two people brought in from the Victorian Alps after a single vehicle accident. Seems their car went off the side of the road and ended up in the river. A car travelling behind stopped and the driver managed to get the mother and the kid in the car free, but both were unconscious and spent a bit of time in the cold water until the rescue team arrived to haul them out. The kid is still unconscious and still hypothermic and bradycardic. The mother has been rewarmed, but she has head injuries, a flail chest and blunt abdo trauma. We need your help on the boy—he was tubed at the scene but the airway’s not great and he’ll need to go up to CT soon. Joel Addison is heading the team getting the mother under control—she’s going to CT now. They’ll both need ICTU after we’ve finished here.’

‘Right,’ Allegra said, heading for bay one, where the small child was contained.

Tony Ringer, one of the A and E staff consultants, who was directing the care there, looked up in obvious relief when Allegra appeared at the foot of the bed.

‘Allegra, listen—this tube’s in too far, it’s too small and there are anterior neck injuries from the air bag. We need to change it but I’d be grateful if you would do it. I’ll help.’

Allegra moved to the head of the bed and, taking the airway bag and checking the tube and connectors, she listened to the chest with her stethoscope. ‘Yes, you’re right, Tony. The left side’s not inflating, the tube is too small and probably down the right main bronchus. We’ll change it for a six point five but we need to be ready for a surgical airway if his larynx is oedematous. I’ll change the tube over an introducer to maintain access.’

Tony took over bagging the child while Allegra, with the help of one of the nursing staff, arranged all the equipment she needed, setting it out for easy access.

‘Right, Tony, let’s do it,’ Allegra said, taking a breath to steady herself.

She took a long flexible plastic introducer and, after disconnecting the endotracheal tube from the bag, passed the introducer into the ETT and the right main bronchus. She then deflated the ETT cuff and pulled the tube out of the airway and over the introducer. She rapidly passed a cuffed 6.5 ETT back over the introducer and into the trachea with not much difficulty, positioning the tube this time in the trachea so that both lungs would be inflated, and blew up the cuff. She checked the insufflation of both lungs with her stethoscope and, satisfied that the tube was in the correct position, secured it with tape.

‘Good job, Allegra,’ Tony said. ‘It’s a godsend, having someone with increased airway skills for this sort of situation.’

‘Thanks, Tony. I guess that’s a benefit of the anaesthetic rotation through ICTU.’

‘True,’ Tony replied. ‘Listen, this kid’s still hypothermic. We’re running in warmed intraperitoneal saline now, and as soon as his temperature is up we’ll need to get him next door for a head CT. Can you manage the airway for his transfer and then settle him into ICTU for us? I want to look over the second team treating the mother. And word’s just through that the husband and father has just been located. He’s on his way in.’

‘What’s the boy’s name?’ Allegra asked.

‘Tommy Lowe,’ Tony answered. ‘I don’t know his age, his father was too distressed to talk. What do you think?’

Allegra looked at the tiny body on the bed with tubes running out of him, her stomach clenching in distress that someone so young had had to suffer so much. ‘I reckon he’s about six or seven.’

‘Too young for this sort of caper,’ Tony said, stripping off his gloves and tossing them in the bin.

‘Tell me about it,’ Allegra said. Stripping off her own gloves, she reached out with a gentle hand and touched the little boy on his arm, her fingers soft and warm on his cold pale limb.

Joel was in ICTU, finishing setting the mother up on a ventilator, when Allegra brought the little boy Tommy round from CT.

‘CT on the mother shows some contusion, but no intracranial haemorrhage,’ he said, glancing at her briefly, his expression coolly professional, showing no trace of his anger of the night before. ‘She’s got a flail chest on the right and underlying contusion. She had an intercostal tube put in before they transferred her. I’ve just had to retape the connectors, otherwise that’s OK. Her abdo CT shows a liver contusion, but no free blood, so the surgeons are treating it expectantly at this stage. She’ll have another CT tomorrow. Her bloods were pretty normal, the Hb down as expected. But there was one unexpected finding, about which we’ll have to inform the police.’

‘What’s that?’ she asked, as she supervised the transfer of Tommy from the trolley to the ICTU bed.

‘Her blood alcohol is through the roof—point one. No wonder she ran off the road.’

‘That’s unbelievable!’ Allegra said. ‘How could a mother drive along a winding mountainous road with a child in the car, having drunk herself stupid?’

‘I’m sending off a drug test as well,’ he said with a grim set to his mouth. ‘I have a bad gut feeling about this scenario. Something else is going on, maybe suicide—actually, a murder-suicide.’

Allegra felt a cold shiver of unease pass through her as she looked at the woman hooked up to the ventilator. What circumstances in her life would cause her to take that drastic step?

‘What about the boy?’ Joel asked. ‘Any results from the CT?’

‘No detectable macro brain injury. He could have general minor contusion, maybe slight cerebral oedema. His core temp’s up to 37 now. No other major injuries. We ran the scanner over his neck, chest and abdo—all clear,’ Allegra reported.

Danielle Capper appeared. ‘Dr Addison? Dr Tallis? Mrs Lowe’s husband is here. Perhaps you should speak to him before he comes in. He’s very agitated. I’ve made him a cup of tea and he’s in conference room two.’

Joel helped Allegra set Tommy up on the ventilator then while Allegra set up the IV lines with the nursing staff, Joel removed the intraperitoneal catheter, which had been used to rewarm the patient, stripped off his gloves and exchanged a quick glance with Allegra. ‘We’d better talk to the father together.’

‘Right,’ she agreed, mentally bracing herself. How would the father of the little boy cope with hearing his wife had been driving under the influence, let alone if what Joel suspected was true—that she’d done so deliberately in an attempt to kill herself and her child?

Joel opened the conference-room door to find a man in his mid to late thirties pacing the floor, his face haggard, his clothes looking as if he’d just thrown them on haphazardly. His tie was hanging loosely and his shirt buttons were done up crookedly.

‘I want to see my son! Where is he?’

‘Mr Lowe, I’m Dr Joel Addison and this Dr Allegra Tallis. Your son is in ICTU—we’ve just stabilised him.’

‘And my wife?’ Mr Lowe asked, his hands tightening by his sides.

‘She’s also in the unit,’ Joel said. ‘Both she and your son are being ventilated with a machine to help with breathing. They both have head injuries. We’re not sure yet about how severe those injuries are. The neurosurgical team is coming down now, and will almost certainly want to do a minor procedure on each to insert a pressure monitor. We’ll have a lot better idea when that’s in, and also with a period of observation.’

‘She was drinking, wasn’t she?’ Mr Lowe said through clenched teeth. He swung away and turned with his back to them and looked out of the window, which overlooked the hospital garden.

‘I know this has been a terrible shock for you, Mr Lowe,’ Allegra said gently, ‘but if you’re up to it now, can we ask you a few questions to help us with planning management before we take you in to see them?’

He turned around and with a heavy sigh took the nearest chair and collapsed into it, his head going to his hands.

Joel waited until Allegra was seated before he took the other chair. ‘Mr Lowe, your wife had a blood alcohol level of point one—that’s double the legal limit for driving. Was she taking any medication that you were aware of?’

Mr Lowe lifted his head out of his hands and looked at Joel through red-rimmed eyes. ‘She’s been on antidepressants for six months.’ His eyes shifted away to look down at his hands. ‘And drinking on and off for a few weeks. But I never thought she’d do something like this …’

‘You think she crashed the car deliberately?’ Allegra asked.

Keith Lowe looked at her with a grim expression tightening his mouth. ‘We’ve been having some … trouble … in the relationship. I was trying to work things out with her. I suggested counselling, but she wouldn’t hear of it. This supposed disaster of a holiday in the mountains was my idea to try and patch things up. She was against it, of course … but she eventually agreed to come. I had some business in town to see to so she and Tommy drove up first. I was to join them later.’ He rubbed at his jaw and added, ‘If I’d suspected this was what was going through her head, I would never have allowed her to go …’

‘Has she ever shown suicidal tendencies before?’ Joel asked.

‘No, not really, just troughs of depression. She’d sit around the house and do nothing … for weeks at a time and then snap out of it.’ He ran a hand through his coarse, wiry hair. ‘It’s been a living hell, I can tell you. But I had to stick it out … if for nothing else than for Tommy’s sake.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Joel said. ‘Would you like to see them now?’

‘Yes …’ The man’s eyes moistened. ‘I want to see that Tommy’s alive …’ He choked back a sob and Allegra silently handed him the box of tissues from one of the side tables.

‘Try not to be put off by the tubes and machinery—it’s all support equipment to keep things stabilised while we watch for improvement. I know how terrifying it all looks. He’s young and strong—I know having his father by his side will help him.’

Keith blew his nose and wiped at his eyes before turning to Joel. ‘I’d rather not see my wife right now, if you don’t mind. Not after … this ….’

Joel got to his feet and placed a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘We understand. She’s in the next cubicle but I’ll make sure the curtain is pulled across between them. We can move them apart if you can’t cope.’

Mr Lowe appeared to think about it for a moment. ‘No … no … you don’t have to do that. I guess Tommy would want her near … I’ll manage.’

‘There are staff in constant attendance in ICTU,’ Allegra said. ‘You can ring and talk to the one looking after Tommy at any time.’

‘How badly injured is my … wife?’ he asked after a tiny pause.

Joel answered. ‘Well, apart from a head injury, which is why she’s unconscious at present, she has broken ribs, some bruising of a lung and bruising of her liver. She has a plastic drain in the chest to keep the lungs inflated. The liver injury seems stable, it probably won’t need any surgery. And she has bruising around both upper arms, maybe where someone grabbed her to pull her out of the car, and in the middle of her back, maybe from prolonged pressure on the spine board during the transfer. She’s deeply unconscious,’ Joel said. ‘It will be a few hours before we can get all the test results back.’

Mr Lowe’s eyes shifted again. ‘Is …?’ He cleared his throat and continued, ‘Is she expected to live?’

‘She’s in a serious condition but she’s stable. We’re giving her maximal supportive therapy. I think there’s a fair chance for recovery,’ Joel said.

Allegra stood to one side a few minutes later as Keith stood by his son’s bed. She could see the up-and-down movement of his throat as he swallowed the rising emotion, and her chest felt uncomfortably tight at what he must be going through. How many times had she seen scenes just like this? Too many to recall, but this had to be one of the most tragic. Car accidents were horrific enough, without a suicide or murder motive attached.

‘You can talk to him, Mr Lowe,’ she said. ‘Touch him and speak to him as much as you like.’

Keith Lowe kept his eyes trained on his little son. ‘But he can’t hear me, can he?’

‘He is unconscious but that doesn’t necessarily mean his brain won’t register the sound of a very familiar voice. Your touch, too, is part of that memory process.’

Keith reached out a hand and placed it tentatively on his son’s leg. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. Removing his hand from the boy’s leg, he moved away from the bed, his expression tortured as he faced Allegra. ‘I can’t do this … I need to get some … air … I’m sorry … I can’t cope with seeing him like this …’

‘It’s all right, Mr Lowe,’ Allegra said softly.

His eyes spouted tears as he ground out bitterly. ‘How can you possibly understand? That is my son lying there because that bitch behind that curtain put him there. If anyone deserves to die, it’s her, not him. He’s only seven years old, for God’s sake!’

‘Mr Lowe, I think it would be best if—’

‘Excuse me.’ Keith brushed past Allegra roughly and left the unit, ripping off the white protective surgical gown all visitors were required to wear in ICTU and tossing it roughly in the vague direction of the laundry bin.

‘Dr Tallis?’

Allegra let out a little sigh and turned to face Joel, who had been attending to another patient nearby. ‘Yes?’

‘I’d like a word with you if you’re free,’ he said, ‘in my office. No hurry. Just come when you get a spare moment.’

‘I’m free now.’

‘Good,’ he said, moving past to shoulder open the swing doors. ‘I’ll have some coffee sent up.’

Louise sent Allegra a musing glance once the doors had closed on Joel’s exit. ‘Coffee or an olive branch, I wonder?’

Allegra rolled her lips together for a moment, her eyes on the small child lying so lifeless on the bed, only the hiss and groan of the ventilator breaking the silence.

‘Allegra?’ Louise gave her a little prod. ‘Are you OK?’

She blinked and, giving her head a little shake, gave Louise a crooked smile. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. Did you say something?’

‘Nothing important,’ Louise answered. ‘But you’d better go and have that coffee with the director. You look like you need it.’

‘Yes …’ she said, and made her way out of ICTU to Joel’s office a few doors down the corridor, a tiny frown taking up residence on her forehead.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘COME in,’ Joel called at Allegra’s knock a short time later.

She came in and found him taking two cups of coffee off a tray, the fragrant aroma instantly teasing her nostrils.

‘Quite a day,’ he said, handing her a cup. ‘Do you take milk or sugar?’

She shook her head. ‘No, straight up is fine.’

Joel waited until she sat down before he took his chair behind his desk. His dark chocolate gaze connected with hers, the edge of his mouth tilted slightly. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to see me after what occurred between us last night.’

Allegra felt her colour rise but there was nothing she could do to stop it. ‘As you said during the course of that … er … unfortunate conversation, we were two tired, overworked people, having a drink.’

There was a surprising level of warmth in his gaze as it held hers. ‘Yes, that’s true, but I still thought I should apologise, for being so …’ He seemed to be hunting for a suitable word so she supplied it for him.

‘Overbearing?’

He gave a soft chuckle of laughter, the sound of it sending a river of tiny feathery sensations down Allegra’s spine. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his whole face softened, the tension and guardedness she was so used to seeing there now completely gone.

‘I’ve been described as a lot of things in the past but “overbearing” is a first,’ he said.

She arched one of her brows sceptically. ‘Really? I’m surprised.’

His smile faded a little and he put down his cup. ‘Look, Allegra, I know we haven’t had a great start to our working relationship but I wanted to apologise for my part in last night’s … er … unfortunate conversation, as you called it. I have no intention of speaking to Patrick Naylor about you. From what I’ve seen, you are a very competent anaesthetist with a high level of compassion for patients.’

‘Thank you …’

‘However, I did want to advise you about your handling of Keith Lowe.’

Allegra felt herself stiffen. ‘Oh?’

‘He’s still in shock over what’s happened. Also, I don’t think he’s the touchy-feely sort. A lot of men aren’t. I was watching from bed four. He seemed very stiff and uncomfortable at touching the child.’

She frowned at him. ‘So what are you saying?’

‘I think it would be wise to go slowly with him in regard to your coma recovery plan. Somehow Keith Lowe doesn’t strike me as a man who would be comfortable singing lullabies to his kid, no matter what the circumstances.’

‘I wasn’t thinking along the lines of lullabies, but I do think it’s important Mr Lowe speaks to his son at the very least.’

‘True. I agree. But the man’s trying to come to terms with the as yet unanswered question of whether or not his wife tried to do herself in and take the child with her. To make matters worse, Kate is one bed away. He’s edgy and very uncomfortable.’

‘You think we should move her—maybe to one of the isolation rooms?’

Joel drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. ‘It’s a thought … but, no, I think the transfer might be interpreted the wrong way. The father’s already agreed Tommy might benefit from having his mother nearby.’

‘Even though she tried to kill him?’

His eyes came back to hers. ‘We don’t know that. It could have been an accident.’

‘You mean, straight driving under the influence?’ she said. ‘Driving with point one alcohol in the blood is hardly responsible behaviour for anyone, let alone a mother with a small child in the car.’

‘Look, I know I brought up the suspicions in the first place, but it’s probably wise not to make any judgements until we have more facts.’

‘But Mr Lowe said she had a history of depression and he immediately assumed she’d been drinking, as if it was a regular occurrence.’

‘Lots of people suffer periods of depression without trying to take their own or other’s lives,’ he pointed out.

‘So why did you order a drug test? You must be more than a little suspicious.’

He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. ‘I just thought it best to make sure either way.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘The results should be in now.’

‘What do you think they’ll show?’

‘One would assume she’s been taking her antidepressant, so that will show up—but at what level? And any other drugs—sedatives, tranquillisers. Maybe she took a cocktail of things.’ He reached for the telephone and dialled the pathology department.

Allegra sipped her coffee and listened as he discussed the results with the lab.

‘That high, huh? Both of them?’ He raised his brows at Allegra. ‘Yeah, I guess so. Right, thanks for speeding it through. The police will want a copy. I’ll get them to contact you themselves—they may have their own questions.’

He put the phone down and sent Allegra a grave look. ‘Mrs Lowe was on a cocktail of three drugs. Paroxetine at five times the maximum therapeutic level, diazepam at a high level and traces of codeine.’

‘So she was really serious about doing it properly,’ she said, starting to chew at her bottom lip.

‘Looks more like it now.’

Allegra’s frown increased. ‘That’s three drugs. You said “both of them”. What exactly did you mean by that?’

‘I wasn’t referring to the number of drugs. I had the lab examine the boy’s blood as well. It now seems that he had detectable diazepam as well, but not as high as hers.’

‘What! She sedated the boy first?’ she gasped in shock.

‘That’s what it looks like. Hard to believe someone would do such a thing, but it’s not the first time a parent has taken things to such extremes.’

‘It’s just so awful to think that if that car hadn’t been behind them they would have died for sure …’ she said, staring down at her hands.

‘Maybe it was meant to happen this way.’

She looked up at that. ‘What? Don’t tell me the incredibly scientific Dr Joel Addison actually believes in something as metaphysical as destiny?’

He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a lengthy moment before asking, ‘What have you got planned for the rest of the evening?’

She gave him a startled look. ‘Planned?’

‘After you finish work,’ he said. ‘What have you got planned?’

‘Um … well, nothing really. I should do some washing, I guess. My machine broke down and my shifts have made it impossible for me to be there for the technician, but I can tell you the thought of sitting in a hot laundromat isn’t too appealing.’

His smile relaxed his features again. ‘So if I offered to take you out to dinner I might be in for a chance at you accepting, given the competition being so poor?’

Allegra felt her stomach do a funny little flip-flop. ‘You’re asking me to dinner?’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I am.’

‘Don’t you get dinner invitations very often?’

She gave him a rueful look. ‘Only from recently separated men who do nothing but whinge about their soon-to-be-ex-wives the whole time.’

‘Well, I can assure I’m not married or separated or involved with anyone at present, much to my mother’s ongoing disappointment.’

‘You could always try internet dating,’ she suggested with a tiny wry smile.

‘I thought I might try this way first,’ he said, and pushing out his chair got to his feet. ‘That’s if the laundromat isn’t a better offer.’

Allegra stood up as well, wondering why her legs felt so wobbly and strange all of a sudden. ‘It’s close … but I suppose as long as you don’t offer me pizza and cheap red wine, you’re a marginally better prospect than the laundromat.’

‘Marginally, eh?’ He smiled as he held the door open for her. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight or is that too early?’

‘No, but I haven’t even given you my address.’

‘Good point.’ He reached for a pen and paper and she rattled off her street and apartment block number and watched as he wrote it down in a strong forceful script which she knew her mother would have a field day interpreting.

‘See you tonight, then,’ he said, pocketing the note.

‘Yes … Thanks for the coffee.’

‘You’re welcome.’

She felt the pull of his gaze for several long seconds before she dragged hers away to walk through the door and down the corridor on legs that still felt as if someone had taken out the bones, just leaving the marrow …

Allegra checked on Tommy Lowe before she left for the evening. The neurosurgeons were planning insertion of intracranial pressure monitors on both him and his mother that night in the ICTU theatre. Susie, the ICU nurse looking after Tommy, reported all his obs stable, and the same for Kate, who she was also temporarily attending whilst Chloe, Kate’s nurse, was out at tea.

‘Poor little chap,’ Susie said. ‘How could a mother do that to an innocent child?’

Allegra wrote up the notes and handed the nurse the chart. ‘It seems unbelievable, doesn’t it? Mind you, it’s still speculation so far, so better not to spread rumours we might regret later.’

‘I hate the thought of even going near her,’ Susie confessed. ‘I can’t wait for Chloe to come back from her break.’

‘We’ve got to treat Mrs Lowe like any other patient in ICTU, Susie—we’re health professionals, not judges,’ Allegra reminded her sternly.

‘I know, but what the poor father is being put through … he’s a complete wreck,’ Susie said. ‘And you could hardly blame him for being so angry.’

‘Has he been back in?’

‘Yes, just a few minutes ago. He didn’t stay long. I had to get him a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol almost as soon as he laid eyes on Tommy. I don’t think he can handle the sight of his little boy so badly injured. He probably blames himself for not seeing it coming.’

‘Yes, I guess you’re right,’ Allegra agreed with a heavy sigh. ‘Suicide always creates such a lot of guilt. You always wonder if you could have done something to prevent it.’

Susie gave her a thoughtful look. ‘That sounds to me like the voice of experience. Someone close to you?’

Allegra was privately impressed by the nurse’s percipience but didn’t know her well enough to share what had happened to her friend Julie during their first year at medical school. She’d only shared it with Louise because Louise’s brother had made a suicide attempt a couple of years previously after a relationship break-up. He had recovered, however, and was now in a happy relationship and had dealt with the issues that had led to his attempt on his life.

Allegra’s experience with her friend had been a harrowing time and she still had nightmares about it. She still tortured herself over all the signs she’d missed, all the opportunities she could have taken to prevent a tragedy that she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life.

‘No …’ she answered, straightening the bed clothes over the child. ‘But you sort of get to know this stuff from working in a place like this.’

‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ Susie said. ‘You see it all and then have to go home and sleep.’

‘Sleep …’ Allegra forced a wry smile to her lips. ‘Now, there’s something that’d be incredibly tempting.’

‘Not as tempting as coffee with the new boss,’ Susie said with a little twinkle.

Allegra frowned. ‘Don’t you nurses have anything better to do than gossip all the time? It was just coffee, all right? It doesn’t mean a thing.’

‘What about Patrick Naylor?’

‘What about him?’ she snapped back irritably.

‘He’s not going to be too happy about you fraternising with the director when he had first call.’

‘For pity’s sake, how often do I have to tell everyone that I am not involved with Patrick Naylor?’

‘I guess the only way to do that is by making it obvious you’re dating someone else,’ Susie suggested.

‘Yeah—well, maybe I will do just that,’ Allegra said, and giving the nurse one last little hardened glare turned on her heel and left.