More Than Time

Lizzi went into her office and closed the door. ignoring their comments behind her back. They all knew she was in a grotty mood, but of course they thought it was because of the cartoon. It would never occur to them that the cool, detached Sister Killjoy could possibly feel any emotion because someone had done something as everyday as die!

She heard her door open and shut, but she didn’t lift her head.

‘Hiding?’

The voice was soft, Scots and full of teasing good humour. She put down her pen with a sigh.

‘No, Mr Hamilton, I’m not hiding. I’m working, unlike some people. If you want to kill time, perhaps you’d find somewhere else to do it!’

Her glare wiped the grin off his face, and he dropped into the chair opposite and steepled his fingers, then lifting his head he gave her a level look.

‘I have very good reasons for being here, Sister Lovejoy,’ he said, with just the barest of emphasis. ‘It may have slipped your attention that you have six patients on your ward who were on my list this morning, and who are now in your care, but it hasn’t slipped mine. I’ve come to see how they are, and I wondered if you would care to come round with me. That is,’ he said with a heavy layer of sarcasm, ‘if it isn’t too inconvenient!’

Lizzi blushed under the implied rebuke. ‘It is never inconvenient. You’re welcome to come and see your patients at any hour of the day or night. I’ve finished what I was doing, anyway.’ Ages ago, she thought, but pushed back her chair and stood up and joined him at the door.

As they went round she watched him, conferring with the nurses specialing the post-op patients and examining the patients themselves, asking how they were feeling and giving them details of the operations and how they went; Lizzi thought again what a good doctor he was. He had that easy blend of charm and sincerity that put people immediately at ease, and he was never patronising.