more than simply running away from her past.
When the ambulance doors opened, a squad of staff surged around the injured. There wasn’t time for introductions as Greg barked orders to them, instructing which patients needed to go immediately to Theatre and which required X-rays and tests before a proper diagnosis of the extent of their injuries could be determined.
‘Jamie, take this one will you? Kirsty, give the boy to Sister Shange here. Elspeth, what’s the status of the other casualties?’
‘Would you like me to assist in Theatre?’ Kirsty asked.
Greg stared at her, as if for a moment he couldn’t remember who she was.
‘I think you’ve done enough for the time being. We’ll cope from here on. If you give me a minute, I’ll find someone who can show you to your quarters.’
‘But…’ Kirsty started to protest.
Greg lifted a hand to stem the flow of words. ‘I don’t have time to argue. You don’t know the layout of the department. Right now, we’ve enough staff to help. You’ll only get in the way. Please,’ he added firmly, ‘leave it to us.’ Then he smiled as if to soften his words.
Kirsty glared at him, her eyes flashing. He was treating her like some incompetent medical student.
Greg must have sensed her frustration. He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You did very well back there. Now go get some rest. You’ll be in a better position to help tomorrow.’ He turned his back to her, but not before something in those cool blue eyes told Kirsty it’d be useless to argue further. Reluctantly she looked at his retreating back.
* * *
Later that night as Greg wrote up his notes, he thought about Kirsty. The image of her standing before him in his bloodstained shirt and the short skirt which did nothing to hide her long slim legs kept intruding on his thoughts. She was undeniably attractive with her thick auburn hair escaping from her ponytail and her elfin face with those flashing green eyes. Although on the surface she appeared sophisticated, there was something vulnerable about her—and it wasn’t just her age. He cursed under his breath. She had only been qualified for a couple of years. Despite the way she had performed at the accident scene, she was still far too inexperienced to work in such a remote and challenging setting. He had tried to refuse to accept her as a member of his new team, but had been overruled by the hospital manager. ‘You can’t keep working night and day, Greg,’ he had said. ‘This hospital should have twelve doctors, not the four we have. We need help, at least your colleagues do, and it’s not as if we’re overrun with applications to come and work here. You might be able to work all the hours God sends, but your colleagues need a break. If they don’t get some time off, we could lose them.’
There was no denying his argument, but Greg knew to his cost that an inexperienced doctor could be worse than no doctor at all. With her delicate features and slim build, Kirsty looked as if she had just come out of medical school, although he knew that she was twenty-five. The last thing he needed was to babysit some inexperienced doctor who thought spending a few months in a rural hospital in Africa would be fun or, worse, a good way of practising newly acquired medical skills. He’d had enough of those types in the past and they had proved more of a hindrance than a help. Most of them had only stayed a short while. Long enough to realise that the incredibly long hours and hard work was too much.
He shook his head in frustration. He had been tempted to take Kirsty up on her offer of help earlier. Perhaps working through the night in the primitive and gruelling conditions would have been enough to see her immediate return to the UK. But the temptation had been fleeting. It wouldn’t be in the best interests of the patients to have an exhausted and inexperienced doctor working on them. Still, he had to admit she had done well at the crash scene. Apart from that initial hesitation she had worked calmly and efficiently. He knew that more than one patient had reason to be glad she had been there. It didn’t help that something in those luminescent green eyes had sparked feelings that he thought had gone for ever. No, it was best all round if she could be made to see that Africa wasn’t for her.
CHAPTER TWO
THE sun streaming into her room woke Kirsty. Anxious that she’d overslept, she glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe it wasn’t quite six yet. She stretched, breathing in the unfamiliar but heady scents that drifted in from her open window. Last night, one of the kitchen staff had escorted her to her accommodation after serving her some mashed pumpkin and roast beef. The rest of the staff had all been busy with the aftermath of the accident, so it had been a solitary supper for Kirsty.
Although she had been a little disappointed not to meet and work alongside her new colleagues, part of her had been relieved to get the opportunity of a much-needed early night. She had barely managed to stay awake long enough to shower the blood, sweat and dust away, before collapsing into bed. She had expected to fall asleep the moment her head had hit the pillow, but instead had found herself replaying the events of the day and her introduction to the strangeness of this wild, untamed patch of Africa and its people, including the enigmatic Dr Greg du Toit. Although she couldn’t say her new boss had been unwelcoming, she’d sensed he wasn’t altogether happy to have her there. She had tossed and turned, wondering if she had made the right decision to come to work in this hospital deep in rural Africa. Would she cope? Everything seemed much more basic than she had imagined. But she’d had to get away. Put as much distance between herself and her memories as possible. She wanted—needed—to start afresh make a new life for herself. When at last she had fallen asleep, it had been to dream of Robbie. She had woken up to find tears drying on her cheeks.
But Kirsty was determined that today would be the beginning of her new life. Curious about her new home, she jumped out of bed. There was a set of scrubs on the rickety chair in the corner of the room. They hadn’t been there the night before. Greg must have asked someone to bring them over. She was surprised that he had remembered, with so much going on.
The accommodation certainly wasn’t lavish but, then, Kirsty hadn’t expected it to be. Nevertheless she appreciated the gleaming polished earthen floors smelling faintly of lavender, cool and smooth under her bare feet. And although the furniture was sparse, she knew that with a few touches she could make her new home more appealing.
The house was at least half a century old, with a hodgepodge of additions over time to what must have been the original structure—a circular room from which a tiny scullery, her bedroom and a spartan bathroom led off at various angles, each serving to create interesting nooks and crannies.
The circular room—or rondavel as it was traditionally known—was divided down the middle by a freestanding granite unit that separated the living-room area from the kitchen. On closer inspection Kirsty realised it must have been an autopsy slab from bygone times. However, its antiquated, well-scrubbed appearance amused rather than repulsed her.
While the kettle boiled, she searched fruitlessly for something to eat. In hindsight, she remembered being told that staff meals were served daily in the dining room. If she preferred to prepare meals for herself, she’d have to do her own grocery shopping. Hell, there wasn’t even tea or milk! Dispirited, she flicked the kettle off. Breakfast in the staff dining room it had to be!
She took a quick shower, pleased to find that while the furniture and fittings might be sparse, there was a plentiful supply of steaming hot water. However, she remembered that Africa often suffered severe water shortages and limited her shower to the minimum amount of time needed to soap her body and rinse the last of the dust from her long auburn hair.
She wasn’t expected on duty until the following day but she was eager to see how the victims of yesterday’s
