up here—you’ll be needed back in Resus.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked. He was needed back in Resus; but at the same time he didn’t think it was fair to leave Isla to deal with grieving parents all on her own.
She nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
He reached out and squeezed her hand, trying to ignore the tingle that spread through his skin at her touch—now really wasn’t an appropriate time. ‘Thank you. You were brilliant. And even though I know you’re more than capable of answering any questions the Pryors might have, if you need backup or want me to come and talk to them about anything, you know where to find me.’
‘Yes. Those poor people,’ she said softly.
‘This is the bit of our job I really wish didn’t exist,’ Harry said.
‘I know. But it does, and we have to do our best.’ She squeezed his hand back, and loosened it. ‘Off you go.’
He wrote up the paperwork, and headed back to Resus. To his relief, the next case was one that he could actually fix. The patient had collapsed, and all the tests showed Harry that it was a case of undiagnosed diabetes. The patient was in diabetic ketoacidosis; Harry was able to start treatment, and then explain to the patient’s very relieved wife that her husband would be fine but they’d need to see a specialist about diabetes and learn how to monitor his blood sugar, plus in future they’d have to keep an eye on his diet to suit his medical condition.
Mid-afternoon, Harry actually had a chance to take his break. He hadn’t seen Isla back in Resus since leaving her with the Pryors, so he went in search of her; he discovered that she was doing paperwork.
‘Hey. I’m pulling rank,’ he said.
She looked up. ‘What?’
‘Right now, I really need some cake. And I think, after the day you’ve had, so do you. So I prescribe the hospital canteen for both of us.’
‘What about Josie?’
Harry smiled. ‘She’s already had her break and is in cubicles right now, but I’m going to bring her some cake back. You can help me pick what she’d like.’
For a moment, he thought Isla was going to balk at being alone with him; then she smiled. ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’
‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘We have fifteen minutes. Which is just about enough time to walk to the canteen, grab cake, and chuck back a mug of coffee.’
She rolled her eyes, but stood up to join him.
‘How were the Pryors?’ he asked softly when they were sitting at the table in the canteen with a massive slice of carrot cake and a mug of good, strong coffee each.
‘Devastated,’ she said. ‘But they got to spend time with their son and I explained that he didn’t suffer in Resus—that the end was quick.’
‘Yeah,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I hate cases like that. The guy still had his whole life before him.’ And something else had been bugging him. ‘He was only five years younger than I am.’ The exact same age as one of his siblings. And he’d had to fight the urge to text every single one of his siblings who was old enough to drive to say that they were never, ever, ever to ride a motorbike.
‘He was three years younger than me,’ Isla said.
It was first time she’d offered any personal information, and it encouraged him enough to say, ‘You were brilliant with the Pryors and I really appreciate it. I assume you had a fair bit of experience with bereaved relatives when you worked in your last emergency department?’
‘Actually, no.’
He blinked at her. ‘How come?’
‘I wasn’t in an emergency department, as such—I was a nurse practitioner in a GP surgery. I retrained in Glasgow and then came here,’ she said.
Something else he hadn’t known about her. ‘You retrained to give you better opportunities for promotion?’ he asked.
‘Something like that.’
She was clearly regretting sharing as much as she had, and he could tell that she was giving him back-off signals. OK. He’d take the hint. He smiled at her. ‘Sorry. We’re a nosey bunch at the London Victoria—and I talk way too much. Blame it on the sugar rush from the cake.’
‘And on having a rough day,’ she added. ‘So you’ve always worked in the emergency department?’
‘Pretty much. I trained in London; I did my foundation years here, with stints in Paediatrics and Gastroenterology.’ Because of what had happened to Tasha, his first choice had been Paediatrics. He’d been so sure that it was his future. ‘But, as soon as I started in the Emergency Department, I knew I’d found the right place for me. So I stayed and I worked my way up,’ he said.
‘Thirty-two’s not that old for a special reg,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Though I’ve already seen for myself that you’re good at what you do.’
Funny how much her words warmed him. He inclined his head briefly. ‘Thank you, kind madam.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be a compliment. It was a statement of fact,’ she said crisply.
He grinned. ‘I like you, Isla. You’re good for my ego. Keeping it in check.’
She actually smiled back, and his heart missed a beat. When she smiled, she really was beautiful.
‘I’ve known worse egos in my time,’ she said.
‘And you gave them just as short shrift?’
‘Something like that.’
He looked at her. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘That depends,’ she said.
‘Why haven’t you come to any of the departmental nights out?’
‘Because they’re not really my thing,’ she said.
‘So you don’t like ten-pin bowling, pub quizzes or pizza.’ He paused. ‘What kind of things do you like, Isla?’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’ve only been at the London Victoria for a couple of weeks, you’ve told me that you retrained to come here, and I’m assuming that you don’t really know anyone around here. It must be a bit lonely.’
Yes, she was lonely. She still missed her family and her friends in the Western Isles hugely. And, even though she was trying to put her past behind her, part of her worried about socialising with her new colleagues. It would be too easy to let something slip. And then their reaction to her might change. Some would pity her; others would think there was no smoke without fire. And neither reaction was one she wanted to face.
She didn’t think Harry was asking her out—he’d already made it clear he thought his reputation wasn’t deserved—but it wouldn’t hurt to make things clear. ‘You’re right—I don’t know
