you might be able to teach me new things, too. I believe in teamwork, and I hope you’ll see me as just another team member.’
She couldn’t help looking at her rescuer again. And ‘no chance’ was written all over his face. She sighed inwardly. Time. She just had to give it time. ‘Thanks, everyone. I’ll catch up with you all individually during the day.’
She was good. He had to give her that. She’d told the car park story against herself before anyone else could—attack being the best form of defence. And she was clearly going out of her way to be friendly, asking the whole ward to a welcome drink at the pub near the hospital. But he still couldn’t quite forgive her for lying to him, saying that she was visiting someone. Why couldn’t she just have said that she was going for an interview?
An interview for the same job he’d gone for. The job he hadn’t got. And how long would it be before he had another chance to show his family that all those sacrifices had been worth it? Maybe a few months, until she got bored and moved on. Or maybe longer if she decided she liked it, or her father wanted her to stay…He sighed inwardly. He knew he had to be flexible if he wanted his career to take the fast track—he had to be prepared to move to where the opportunities were—but how could he possibly leave Calderford?
‘Hello.’
She sounded a little unsure of herself. Jack hardened his heart and gave her a professional nod. ‘Ms Turner.’
‘It’s Miranda,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘And I wanted to apologise. About the car thing.’ She made a face. ‘Interview nerves.’
‘Yeah.’ Unwillingly, he took her hand to shake it. Then wished he hadn’t when a spark of awareness jolted his whole body.
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Nothing could possibly happen between them. He wasn’t even going to start thinking about his boss in those sorts of terms. And even if she hadn’t been his boss, nothing could happen between them. They lived in completely different worlds, and he really wasn’t into the lifestyle of the rich and pampered. He’d been there, done that and learned the hard way that it wasn’t for him. No way was he ever going to get involved with a posh girl again. Jessica’s words had burned into his soul, the giggled conversation he’d overheard with her friends. Jack? Yeah, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. But Mummy’s right. He’s from the wrong side of town—fun for now, but he’s not the kind of man you’d marry.
Then he realised he was still holding Miranda’s hand. He dropped it as if he’d been scalded. Hell. He didn’t want her to think he’d lost his concentration because of—well, because he fancied her. She might be beautiful but she wasn’t his type. Besides, he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Not until he’d reached consultant level. He wouldn’t be the kind of man a woman wanted to marry until then. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said.’
‘Just that I really did appreciate you rescuing me.’
She sounded sincere. And her body language matched her words. Now he felt horrible. Perhaps Miranda Turner wasn’t the hard, manipulative woman he’d assumed she was. Or maybe his judgement was just out of kilter. She might seem nice now—but, then again, so had Jessica.
‘And I’d like to join you on the ward round, if that’s OK with you, Dr Sawyer.’
She’d clearly read his name from his badge, and he could tell she was waiting for him to say, ‘Call me Jack.’ Well, she’d have to wait a bit longer, until he could see what she was really made of. Whether she’d really got the job on merit.
‘And I’m perfectly happy for you to lead—you know the patients and the staff better than I do.’
She didn’t say it but he knew what she meant. At the moment. ‘Right.’
‘Shall we?’
‘In Room One, we have Imogen Parker. She has unstable angina,’ Jack said.
Unstable angina. No. Oh, no. Of all the things she had to face, why did that have to be her first case on her new ward? Miranda shook herself, knowing that she had to put the memories behind her. Now wasn’t the time or place to think about what had happened to May. Her patient had to come first.
With angina pectoris, the heart muscle didn’t get enough blood and oxygen to meet its needs, so the patient felt tightness or a burning sensation in the chest when climbing stairs or walking. In more severe cases, known as unstable angina, the patient felt pain on resting, too. ‘She had an ECG when she came in, and a cardiac stress test a while back,’ Jack told Miranda. An ECG or electrocardiogram measured the electrical activity in the heart; the stress test was a second ECG while the patient walked fast enough on a treadmill to cause chest pain. Both could show up current heart problems or previous heart attacks. ‘They were both normal.’
‘What about blood tests?’ Miranda asked. They might show an underlying cause for the angina.
Jack nodded. ‘They’re clear. No signs of polycythaemia, thyrotoxicosis or hyperlipidaemia.’ So Imogen Parker’s blood didn’t have an abnormally large amount of red blood cells, she didn’t have an inflamed thyroid gland and there weren’t abnormally high levels of fat in her blood. ‘Not diabetes or anaemia either,’ he added.
‘What about her angiography?’ Miranda asked. It was standard procedure in these cases to take an X-ray of the blood vessels around the patient’s heart.
‘It showed a slight narrowing of a couple of the blood vessels.’
‘Is she on GTN?’ GTN, or glyceryl trinitrate, increased the flow of blood through the heart muscle and controlled the symptoms of angina.
‘It gave her headaches, so she’s on beta-blockers,’ Jack said. ‘Her GP’s worried as the drugs weren’t working that well and she’s still getting pain on rest, so we’re keeping an eye on her.’
‘So you’re thinking about surgical intervention?’
‘Possibly.’
They went into the room. ‘Good morning, Miss Parker,’ Jack said with a smile. ‘I’d like to introduce our new consultant, Miss Turner.’
‘Miranda,’ she corrected. ‘May I?’ She indicated the edge of the bed.
‘Of course, Doctor,’ the old lady said.
‘May I call you Imogen?’
Imogen nodded.
Miranda sat down and held the elderly woman’s hand. Imogen Parker was even around the same age that May would have been—in her late seventies. This was way too close for comfort. ‘Jack tells me we’re keeping an eye on the pain you’ve been having lately. How are you feeling today, Imogen?’
‘Not so bad,’ Imogen said quietly.
The slight greyness in her face told Jack and Miranda otherwise. Jack flicked quickly through her chart. ‘You had another two attacks last night?’
‘It was nothing, really.’ Imogen made a dismissive gesture. ‘I don’t like to bother the nurses. They’re busy.’
‘They’d be a lot more bothered if they thought you weren’t feeling well and hadn’t told them,’ Miranda said. That was precisely what May had done. And then it had been
