Consultant Care

And, although she shamelessly strained her ears, Nicolette just couldn’t make out his first murmured response, although Miss Dixon’s voice was audible enough.

‘But I shall have to deal with it, you know, Leander.’

And the rather dry reply, ‘I rather think I’m able to handle spirited young staff nurses without your intervention, don’t you, Rhoda?’

‘Nevertheless—’

But Nicolette didn’t hear anything further, because she had sped up the corridor on swift feet and into the nurses’ cloakroom to tame her hair with hands that were shaking with emotion as his words sounded in her head.

And the predominant emotions were rage and indignation and utter disbelief! ‘Spirited young staff nurses’, indeed! It was the kind of thing men had used to say about women in the Victorian age! He made her sound like some young filly who needed breaking in! Ineffectually, she tugged the comb back through curls that surrounded her head like swirls of dark smoke.

And what a first impression to make to the specialist nurse manager, she thought in despair. She had never behaved like that in her life. Never. To the older woman, she must have appeared like one of the very worst type of nurses—the type who weren’t interested in the patients or in the work at all, but were at the hospital with solely one thing in mind: how to chat up the hunkiest doctors.

Nicolette sighed out loud. What had she been thinking of, ripping the clip out of her hair like some pathetic heroine in a B movie? But that was not how it had seemed to her at the time. She hadn’t even thought about what she was doing, or the consequences. It had been sheer, blind rage.

Provoked by him!

There was something about Leander Le Saux which had made her react to his remark about her hair with all the impetuosity of a teenager, instead of a young woman in her mid-twenties who had travelled all the way around Australia on her own. And although she certainly didn’t have a reputation for being an old sobersides—quite the opposite, in fact—she had enough common sense to realise that displays of pique such as she had demonstrated today would not do her reputation, personal or otherwise, any good at all.

So what was it precisely about Leander Le Saux which had caused such an over-reaction? she wondered. What was it they said—knowledge is power? If she analysed it then hopefully it would prevent it ocurring again.

Was it his raw, physical attraction, perhaps?

But I don’t find him attractive, she told her silent, grim reflection.

Oh, but you do, you do, you do! Her knowing eyes mocked her back. More attractive than any man you’ve ever set eyes on. Go on, Nicolette—admit it. Admit it!

Pulling a defiant face at her reflection, she grabbed two handfuls of hair and wound them together into the neatest, tightest top-knot she could manage. It still wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly an improvement. Then she secured it with the hair-clip, still smarting from the way Miss Dixon had spoken to her.

And yet what defence did she have? She had been caught out on her first day, in the most unprofessional of situations, and now she would have to go out of her way to ensure that Miss Dixon changed her mind about her. Because she had no doubt that the specialist nurse manager thought she was some flighty little bit of nonsense who cared more for the men in white coats than she did her job!

And I am not, thought Nicolette defiantly as she made her way back up the corridor. I really am not. I’m a dedicated nurse who loves her work.

She pushed the door of Sister’s office open, and quickly glanced around. Dr Le Saux had gone—thank goodness. Nicolette was dreading a carpeting, but was almost certain that she was about to be subjected to one. And to have had him witness it would have been like rubbing salt into the wound.

The room was empty save for Rhoda Dixon, who was standing beside the desk, obsessively straightening the corners of a pile of papers so that they all lined up perfectly. She glanced up as Nicolette walked in, her eyes glacially cold as they flicked over her hair.

There was silence for a moment. Then she said, very grudgingly, ‘That’s slightly better, I suppose, but not much. Haven’t you ever thought of having it cut off?’

For one wild moment Nicolette actually thought she was about to be ordered to cut her hair, and she smiled as she shook her head. ‘No, Miss Dixon.’

‘Have I said something funny?’

Nicolette shook her head. ‘No, you haven’t.’ She clasped her hands together in front of her tabard. ‘Look—I feel I’ve got off to a bad start, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have over-reacted like that—I’ve never done it before, and I shall certainly do my best to see it doesn’t happen again.’ She gave her familiar, wide smile in a genuine appeal to forget the whole incident.

‘Have you quite finished?’ asked the other woman stonily.

Nicolette gave an inward sigh. So that was to be the way of it. ‘Yes, Miss Dixon.’

‘Good. Then sit down, please.’

Nicolette glanced at her fob watch. ‘But I have two lots of antibiotics to give in ten minutes’ time—’

‘And this will only take five,’ interrupted Miss Dixon crisply, walking over to the office door and shutting it firmly. ‘Staff Nurse Turner has come on early, and has kindly agreed to keep an eye on the ward while I have a word with you.’

‘Miss Dixon, I do understand—’

Miss Dixon shook her smooth blonde cap of a head. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid, Staff Nurse. I don’t think that you do. Sit down, please,’ she repeated, and this time, feeling about five years old, Nicolette did as she was asked.

The cool grey eyes looked curiously colourless. ‘It isn’t the first time it’s happened,’ said the specialist nurse manager inexplicably.

‘I’m sorry?’ queried Nicolette, not understanding at all.

Miss Dixon gave an impatient click of her tongue. ‘I’m not completely stupid, you know, Staff Nurse!’ Her cool eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t deny that Dr Le Saux is a very attractive man—’

‘Miss Dixon, please!’ protested Nicolette, but the older woman carried on unabated.

‘And this won’t be the first time that one of the nurses has set her cap at him, but he is also a hard-working and a very serious-minded doctor, who is engaged in a very important piece of research work, and the last thing he needs is swooning young women chasing him round the ward. I’m afraid that another nurse here on Paediatrics made rather a fool of herself over Dr Le Saux—and unfortunately it got so embarrassing that she had to leave us.’ She glued a forced smile on to her bow-shaped lips. ‘And I have no desire to see the same thing happen to you, Staff.’

Sure she didn’t! Nicolette couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was almost laughable—if it wasn’t so ludicrous. She was sorely tempted to point out to Miss Ice-Cube Dixon that the days in nursing where senior staff could dictate on the morals and behaviour of those junior to them were long gone. Well, she for one would not be bullied. Nicolette gave the specialist nurse manager a frankly considering stare. ‘And you’re basing this little lecture solely on the fact that when you walked into the office you heard me answering Dr Le Saux back?’ she queried calmly.

‘Answering him back?’ cried the older woman in disbelief, her grey eyes opening up like saucers. ‘What I actually heard was you being outrageously rude to Dr Le Saux!’

‘He had just been fairly rude to me,’ observed Nicolette blandly. Downright rude, in fact, even if you discounted the fact that they had only just met.

‘He is a very senior doctor!’ retorted Miss Dixon shrilly, sounding much older than her thirty or so years. ‘And if he decided to register a complaint about your insubordinate behaviour then I am afraid I would have no option but to back him up.’

As Nicolette heard Miss Dixon’s triumphant words she knew that she’d be on to a losing wicket if she attempted to bring this matter to any kind of satisfactory conclusion. The nursing profession still contained women like Rhoda Dixon—although thankfully they were rare—believing that doctors were white-coated gods who could say and do as they liked and nothing you could say or do would convince her otherwise!

She’s basically saying ‘hands off’, thought Nicolette with sudden insight as the other woman’s pale blonde beauty imprinted itself on her vision. And why was that? Did the neat specialist nurse manager have some prior claim to Leander Le Saux? And was her warning simply of a professional nature—or was it more personal than that?