Tender Touch

‘We have two consultants attached to the ward, Ross Hamilton and Oliver Henderson. My husband Tom is Ross’s senior registrar—you’ll meet him in a minute; he’s just gone to check a post-op he was worried about. He hasn’t got a junior reg at the moment so he’s having to do a lot of the running around himself until the SHO, Paul Curtis, finds his feet a bit more.’

She gave Laura a thoughtful look. ‘Watch Paul. He’s OK, but check what he does and, if you have any doubts, come and find me. He’s just a bit green yet. Then there’s Sue Radley, Oliver’s SR, and Gavin Jones, his registrar. You’ll like Gavin, he’s fun and very easy to get on with. He did his SHO year here two years ago, and now he’s come back. We’re all very glad to have him. He’s one you won’t have to watch—Oliver thinks he’s brilliant, and coming from Oliver that’s high praise indeed.’

She grinned. ‘That’s it for the medical staff. You’ll soon get used to them all. The nursing staff you’ll meet in a minute when they come for report. I’m just going to do the hand-over with Jean Hobbs and I’ll be with you. Why don’t you wander round the ward and get a feel of the geography for a minute?’

Giving Laura a friendly smile, she turned on her heel, disappearing through a door into a room labelled ‘Sister’s Office’. Left on her own, Laura felt the nerves return again. It was silly. She’d been a staff nurse before, but things had changed.

She had changed. Confidence, particularly self-confidence, wasn’t something she took for granted any more. Smoothing the white dress that felt terrifyingly new, she took a steadying breath and walked down the ward, past the nursing station, looking into the little rooms as she passed. Sluice, bathroom, another sluice, stores, linen, treatment-room, and then a room with eight beds in it and windows round two sides, looking out on to the pretty gardens below. One patient was lying with the early-morning sun on her face and her hand shielding her eyes, and Laura asked her if she would like the blind tilted.

‘Oh, no, dear—I was reading, but the sun’s so lovely and warm now.’ She gave a rusty chuckle. ‘I was just enjoying it, like my old cat. She used to lie in the sun—hated the winter, like me. Oh, I do love to see it shine.’

Laura returned her smile. ‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? The summer seems to have been so long coming this year.’

The smile faded a little. ‘Tell you the truth, dear, I didn’t think I’d ever see it, I felt that poorly. I feel much happier now, whatever today brings. I really didn’t want to die in the winter—seems so unfriendly, somehow, having all your friends and relatives standing round in the cold and rain, watching your coffin disappear into a hole! It’s much more cheerful to die in the summer, I always think. There’s something lovely about a summer funeral.’

Laura was stunned. Was she dying? She hadn’t got a clue, not having had access to the notes, and she didn’t quite know how to deal with the elderly lady’s apparent acceptance. What if she was just talking generally? Laura gave her a little smile. ‘A bit like summer weddings,’ she said quietly, watching the woman for any sign of distress, but there was none.

‘Absolutely—the flowers don’t look so silly, for a start. I think I might have a little doze now, dear,’ she said, and her eyes drifted shut, sparing Laura from any further attempts at such a tricky conversation.

She glanced up at the consultant’s name on the head of the bed. Oliver Henderson. So Tom Russell wouldn’t be able to shed any light on the patient. She’d have to wait and ask Helen. It said ‘Nil By Mouth’ next to the consultant’s name, so presumably she was scheduled for operation today. She checked the name on the charts at the end, and saw the woman was called Evelyn Peacey. She would ask about her, just as soon as Helen was free.

She finished her tour of the ward, the three single rooms and three other eight-bedded rooms, making thirty-five beds in all. A big ward, then, but it didn’t seem so big because the area was divided up into smaller units, and the courtyards between the wards with their lovely shrubs and paved walkways brought a tranquil air to the practical and busy ward.

And it was busy, she could see that now. There were several nurses working away quietly, clearing away the breakfast things, getting ready for the day shift, and she could hear others approaching, laughing together in the way of colleagues happy in their work.

There was a shriek and a giggle, and a group of nurses erupted onto the ward, spearheaded by a doctor wearing a white coat, a stethoscope dangling round his neck like a loosened tie. He was grinning, and the nurses following him were laughing still. He must be the cause of the shriek, she thought.

His cheerfulness was infectious, his whole face alive with humour, his firm lips parted in a smile to show two rows of even white teeth. There were deep crow’s-feet round his eyes, she guessed the product of constant laughter, and deep creases bracketed his mouth. Laura felt the warmth of his personality reach out and touch her, and a little more of her nervousness retreated.

As the group drew level with her one of the staff nurses said, ‘I’ll come and live with you, Gavin, any day. Just crook your little finger, darlin’, and I’ll be there!’

‘In your dreams, Ruth,’ another girl said, and they all chuckled, Gavin included.

‘I want a lodger, Ruth, not a fight with your husband!’

‘Aw, shucks!’ the girl said with a wry face, and they all laughed again.

Then, as one, they seemed to notice her. The girl called Ruth spoke first, her smile friendly and curious. ‘Hi. Are you our new staff nurse?’

Laura nodded. ‘Laura Bailey. I start today.’

‘I’m Ruth Davis, this is Linda Tucker, and the rest are just cannon-fodder.’

The students wailed in protest, and there was another wave of laughter, punctuated by a protest from the doctor.

‘Don’t I get an intro?’ he grumbled gently, his smile robbing his words of any offence.

‘You can manage to introduce yourself—I need a cup of tea before bedlam starts,’ Ruth announced, and the group vanished at a stroke, dispersing about their work and leaving Laura alone with the doctor.

He held out his hand. ‘Gavin Jones—I’m Oliver Henderson’s registrar. Welcome to the lunatic asylum.’

She took his hand, dry and firm, his grip strong but gentle, the warmth of his palm surprising. She realised with shock that she was cold, despite the day.

Gavin realised it, too, his other hand coming up to cover her cold fingers. ‘You’re freezing—don’t tell me. Nerves?’

She conjured a smile, distracted by the warmth of his touch. ‘A bit. It’s been a long time since I worked in such a busy hospital.’

As soon as the words were out she regretted them, because they invited questions—why so long, where was she before, what had she done since?—questions she was unable and unprepared to answer.

She was safe, however. His smile simply softened in sympathy and he released her hand. ‘You’ll be fine. After a day you’ll think you’ve worked here forever. Helen’s wonderful; she’ll look after you. It’s a good team to be on; everyone’s very supportive and there seems to be a remarkable lack of infighting. It means we can all just get on with the job.’

He looked past her, up the ward to the room at the end. ‘I wonder how Evie is today?’ he murmured.

She followed the direction of his clear blue eyes, and came to rest on Evelyn Peacey, still lying with her face in the sun. ‘Is she dying?’ Laura asked softly.

He nodded. ‘Yes, probably quite soon. She’s got a massive growth around her aorta, and, although we’ll remove all we can, we can’t get it all because it’s into the back wall of her abdomen and surrounding her spine, her aorta and one kidney. If we’d been able to shrink it with drugs it would have helped, but we haven’t unfortunately, so we’ll have to do the best we can. She’ll go out to a hospice for a while when she leaves us, then if she’s lucky she’ll get home again.’

‘If her aorta doesn’t blow.’

‘If. Frankly, she’s very much on borrowed time. At least when she does go, it’ll be quick.’

‘She said she didn’t want a winter funeral,’ Laura said softly.

Gavin’s smile was sad. ‘That sounds like Evie. She’d want sunshine and flowers and everybody laughing. Visiting times when she’s here are an absolute riot.’ His eyes sought Laura’s and the warmth in them struck her yet again. ‘We’ll miss her when she goes. It’ll certainly be quieter.’

‘When does she have her operation?’ Laura asked him.

‘Today—this morning. I think she’s last, because we had no idea how long it would take. There are two before her—Oh, good, Helen’s out of the office so she can give you the report and you’ll get a clearer idea. I’m just going to chat to Evie and the other pre-ops. I’ll see you later. Good luck with your first morning.’

‘Thanks.’ She answered his smile with her own, and watched him walk away, struck yet again by the wealth of kindness in his eyes, and the generous warmth of his personality. He was the sort of doctor who would make patients feel better just because he was around, she thought, and realised with a start that she felt better, too. Dr Feelgood, she thought with a grin, and turned towards Helen just as she looked over at Laura.

‘Found your way round?’

‘Just about.’

‘Good. I see Gavin’s introduced himself. Come and meet the others and have report, then you can come round with me and give me a hand with the pre-meds. We’ve got a lot to do.’

She wasn’t joking. Hours later Laura thought her legs were going to collapse—if her feet kept going that long. They had had patients up to Theatre, emergency admissions, post-ops to deal with, discharges, and as if all that wasn’t enough the second wave of new admissions for Ross Hamilton’s Thursday-morning list arrived and needed settling and dealing with.

Gavin and Tom were on the go all day, too, their presence very much felt, and just before she went off duty two older men, presumably the consultants, came onto the ward.

One had white hair, the other fair with a touch of grey, but she realised the hair was deceptive. They were both only in their late thirties or early forties, and she wouldn’t mind betting half the patients were in love with them. Both big men, they radiated health and vitality, their bodies trim and fit, their faces animated in conversation.

Ladykillers, both of them, in their youth, she thought, and then as they laughed she gave a wry chuckle. In their youth? They were ladykillers now, and they could probably teach the average ‘youth’ a thing or two. Still, she was safe. They probably wouldn’t even notice her.

She was wrong. They stopped beside her, so tall that she had to tip her head back to look at them, and smiled. ‘Hello there,’ the white-haired man said, his voice low and soft with the gentle burr of an Edinburgh accent. She noticed absently that he had the loveliest, most searching grey-green eyes, and that he looked tired. Not a delegator, she decided, but a doer, a hands-on consultant.

‘Hello,’ she replied, liking him instantly.