ignored his body, tugged on his white coat from behind the door and rammed his hands deep into the pockets.
‘So, what’s the situation?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Mr Lee’s leg. It’s started to swell more, and he’s now got a tense calf with loss of extension and diminished sensation in the foot.’
‘Damn. What have you done?’
‘Elevated it, ice-packed the muscles and alerted Theatre. He’s had a premed and he’s ready when you are.’
‘You’re confident of the diagnosis?’
One eyebrow arched delicately, and she stood up and gestured to the door. ‘He’s your patient—I’d be delighted for you to check.’
He grunted and followed her to the patient’s bedside. Mr Lee was lying with his leg raised in a ‘gutter’, packed round with soft wadding to support it off the calf, and Robert could see the tension on the skin. The patient was restless, clearly in pain and the foot was looking discoloured. The calf was certainly swollen all round, and there was no question about the diagnosis.
He swore, softly and comprehensively, and then met Frankie’s eyes.
‘Well done, Dr Bradley,’ he murmured. ‘Ever done a fasciotomy?’
She shook her head, the soft, fine hair swinging round her face. ‘Not yet,’ she said, and the faintest smile touched her eyes.
It was the middle of the night, he was exhausted, and yet still she made him want to smile back. He felt his eyes crinkle. ‘Well, as the saying goes, there’s no time like the present. You didn’t really want to go back to that cold, lumpy bed, did you?’
This time she really smiled. ‘Actually I was getting used to it,’ she said ruefully.
‘Tough,’ he growled, but he was unable to stop the quirk of his lips, and she smiled again.
‘Come on, then, let’s go and do this fasciotomy.’
She was a willing pupil, he had to admit. What his grandfather would have called ‘a quick study’. She did only what she was told to do, exactly as she was told to do it, and with skill and sensitivity, as if the scalpel were simply an extension of her fingers. Immediately she released the affected compartments the muscle bulged through the space, colour and warmth returned to the foot and the situation improved.
‘Excellent,’ he murmured. ‘Right, he can go back down as soon as he’s recovered from the anaesthetic. I’ll be in the hospital for a while—I want to see him after he’s come round and make sure we’ve done enough.’
He stripped off his gloves and gown, dropped them in the bin and turned to Frankie. ‘You did a really good job. Well done.’
Wonders would never cease. The man who hadn’t wanted to give her the job dishing out such high praise? Frankie was faintly dumbstruck. She peeled off her gloves and gown, dropped them in the bin on top of his and marvelled at her beginner’s luck.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘It wasn’t really difficult.’
‘No, but it’s still possible to make a mess of it.’
She forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘I said I wouldn’t let you down.’
He smiled, a slow, lazy smile that made her heart thump a little harder. ‘So you did. Coffee?’
‘Tea?’
‘Whatever. Shall we go to the canteen? They usually have various things to eat and I’m starving.’
‘I’ve got a fruit cake,’ she said rashly.
‘Home-made?’
She should have denied it, but his eyes were so hopeful, as if it had been years—possibly forever—since anyone had made him a cake.
‘Yes, home-made,’ she said gently. ‘It was my Christmas cake, but it never got iced. There didn’t seem to be a lot of point—I was on duty so much coming up to Christmas that I didn’t have time to ice it, and I was too busy over Christmas to eat it, so it didn’t really matter. It was a bit ambitious bothering to make it anyway, I suppose.’
He eyed her curiously. ‘Didn’t you go home for Christmas?’
She thought of Jeff and his new bride, wrapped up in each other to the exclusion of everyone and everything else. She certainly hadn’t been wanted.
Her smile probably didn’t reach her eyes, but she tried. ‘I don’t have a family home any more.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded contrite, as if he regretted hurting her, and suddenly she wanted to comfort him, to explain that it was all right, it didn’t matter any more, it couldn’t hurt her now.
It was too soon, though. She didn’t know him. Maybe later, after a few weeks or months—if she was still here …
‘So, do you want to risk it?’
His eyes searched her face and he grinned fleetingly. ‘What do you think?’
She laughed. ‘Come on, then, or we’ll be having it for breakfast.’
They walked in silence through the hospital corridors to her room, and she opened the door with a flourish. ‘Voilà! Welcome to my humble abode.’
He went through the door and peered around. ‘God, it is, isn’t it? I’d forgotten what hospital rooms are like.’
She laughed and closed the door quietly. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one? Make yourself at home; I’ll get the drinks. Tea or coffee?’
‘Oh—coffee, please.’ He was thumbing through the textbook she had been unable to concentrate on, and she slipped past him, made the drinks and returned to find him sitting on the end of the bed, one leg hitched up and the book lying open on his lap, asleep.
‘I found it riveting too.’
He opened one eye and peered at her, then a slow smile tilted his mouth. ‘Sorry. It’s been a rather hectic weekend.’ He snapped the book shut and sat up, taking the coffee from her. ‘So, where’s this fabled cake?’
She rummaged under the bed and came out with a cake tin, worried now that it would taste awful and disappoint him.
‘I hope you’re not expecting Fortnum & Mason’s standard,’ she joked, stabbing a knife into the centre of the untouched cake and chopping out a wedge.
He winced. ‘I’m glad I’ve already seen you operate, otherwise that would really have worried me!’
She chuckled and handed him the crumbling slice. ‘Sorry there aren’t any plates—here, have the lid.’
He took the lid and sniffed the cake. ‘It smells wonderful.’
‘Brandy. Go on, then, try it.’
‘What about you?’
She
