new admissions scheduled for that afternoon she would take an early lunch.
It was a trek to the bowels of the hospital where the makeshift canteen had been set up, and once there the surroundings left a lot to be desired. Maggie stared glumly at the sage-green-painted walls and murky brown ceiling. ‘Not very cheering, is it? Roll on when they get the renovations finished.’
‘Amen to that!’ Rachel Hart, a sister on Children’s Medical, picked up a plate of limp-looking sandwiches and stared despondently at it. ‘If this is the best we have to look forward to for the next six months then heaven help us!’
She plonked the sandwiches on her tray as Maggie laughed. ‘It should be good for our figures if nothing else. We certainly won’t be rushing back for second helpings.’
She selected a plate of the uninspiring sandwiches for herself, added a cup of tea to her tray, then followed Rachel to a table in the corner once they’d paid for their meals. There were quite a lot of staff taking early lunches and the sound of their voices echoed in the cavernous room.
‘What a din!’ She winced as she drew out a chair from the table and its legs made a horrible screeching noise as they dragged across the concrete floor. ‘Oops, sorry.’
Rachel carefully eased out a chair and sat down. ‘You’d think they could have come up with something better than this, wouldn’t you? It’s an absolute disgrace. I am seriously thinking about having a word with our union rep about it.’
Maggie shrugged, although she couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t like Rachel to complain. She was normally such a positive person and made the best of any situation. ‘I suppose it was all the management could think of in the circumstances. It can’t be easy, fitting everything around the refurbishment programme.’
‘I suppose not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to moan.’ Rachel grimaced. ‘I feel a bit down in the dumps at the moment so everything seems to be getting on top of me.’
‘Any particular reason for it?’ Maggie queried, taking a bite of her sandwich and discovering that, thankfully, it tasted better than it looked.
‘Oh, you know…this and that,’ Rachel replied noncommittally. She picked up her cup then abruptly put it back on the saucer. ‘Can I ask you something, Maggie? In confidence, I mean.’
‘Of course. Fire away.’ Maggie frowned, wondering what her friend wanted to ask her. She and Rachel had become friends during their training when they’d worked together on the children’s ward, and it bothered her to see the other woman looking so downcast.
‘Has Luke mentioned anything about Tom?’ Rachel coloured when Maggie looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought he might have said something in passing about how Tom is getting on.’
She tailed off uncertainly and Maggie stifled a sigh. Rachel had been dating Tom Hartley before he’d flown to Boston on the exchange scheme. Although she didn’t know what had gone on between him and Rachel, she’d always suspected that her friend had been very fond of the young surgical registrar. However, there was little she could tell Rachel for a number of reasons which she thought it best not to go into. To admit that she and Luke hadn’t held a single civilised conversation in the whole two weeks he’d been at Dalverston General wasn’t something she wanted to admit to anyone, least of all Rachel, who would be bound to ask questions.
‘I’m afraid not,’ she replied evasively. ‘Tom’s name hasn’t cropped up, but you could always ask Luke yourself, couldn’t you? Maybe he knows where Tom is staying while he’s in Boston so you could write to him.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
She quickly changed the subject by telling Maggie about the pop concert she’d been to the previous weekend with her niece. Maggie didn’t try to pursue the subject but she couldn’t help feeling guilty that she hadn’t been able to help. It made her realise how bad the situation really was between her and Luke, and that worried her. She didn’t like the idea of being so much at odds with someone she worked with.
The thought lingered at the back of her mind after she and Rachel had parted company to return to their respective wards. One of the afternoon admissions had arrived early so Maggie went to get her settled in while Angela and Doreen went for lunch.
The patient’s name was Lauren Atkins, a nineteen-year-old ballet dancer. She’d sprained her ankle very badly during rehearsals the previous day. Subsequent investigations had shown that the ligaments were torn and would need to be surgically repaired. Lauren was accompanied by her mother and it took only a few minutes for Maggie to realise that she was going to need a lot of tact and patience to deal with the older woman.
‘If I’d had my way Lauren wouldn’t be here!’ Gloria Atkins glared at Maggie as though it was her fault her daughter had needed to be admitted to hospital. ‘Lauren should be treated privately, not by the NHS. It’s her whole future at stake here, everything we’ve worked so hard for. I don’t want just anyone operating on her ankle!’
‘Mum—please!’ Lauren implored, looking embarrassed. Maggie gave her a reassuring smile. It wasn’t the first time she’d encountered this sort of attitude neither would it be the last. A lot of people were under the illusion that paying for treatment ensured they would receive better care. They seemed to overlook the fact that it was often the same surgeons who operated on both private and NHS patients.
‘I assure you that Lauren will receive the very best treatment possible, Mrs Atkins. The surgeons here are some of the best in Britain.’
‘Hmm, I have my doubts about that. Not that I’m reassured, of course.’ Gloria refused to be mollified. ‘Everyone knows that the really innovative medicine comes from the States. If I’d had my way then Lauren would have been on the first flight over there this morning. However, her father took the decision to let her come here.’
Maggie felt her hackles rise. However, a glance at Lauren’s miserable face was enough to make her swallow her sharp retort. The poor girl must be worried enough, without having to listen to that sort of nonsense.
‘How long have you been dancing, Lauren?’ she asked instead, helping the girl onto the bed and ignoring her mother.
‘Oh, years. Since I was three or four.’ Lauren grimaced. ‘I must be mad, mustn’t I?’
Maggie smiled although she’d heard the faintly resentful note in the teenager’s voice. ‘You must be dedicated. I know how gruelling ballet dancing can be and how much work you must have put in to reach your present standard.’
‘She has a natural talent. Everyone says so.’ Gloria leaned over and fussed with her daughter’s hair. ‘She takes after me, you see. I was a ballet dancer, although I never had the advantages Lauren has had.’
Maggie didn’t say anything. She had seen the shadow that had crossed Lauren’s face and couldn’t help wondering if the girl believed that she’d been so lucky. Had Lauren been pushed by her mother into choosing ballet as her career? It seemed a distinct possibility.
It wasn’t her place to ask, however, so she carried on getting Lauren settled. She was just showing the teenager how to operate the radio when the sound of footsteps made her glance round, and she felt herself colour when she saw Luke. She hadn’t expected him to appear so soon and felt a little flummoxed by his early arrival.
‘I…um…this is Lauren Atkins, Dr Fabrizzi.’ She quickly
