even the lowliest doctors treated her as being beneath their notice, romantically or otherwise. Oh, she had no doubt that a few of the senior nurses had relationships with some of the doctors, but they rarely, if ever, led to anything permanent.
Her first ward had been a children’s, and while some of the children there had been very ill, on the whole it had been an enjoyable time, and death had never touched her.
Her second ward had been something else completely—female medical, a mixture of all ages over twelve, although the younger patients seemed to recover quicker and leave after only short stays with them. Some of the older patients, their healing process not always as healthy, made much longer stays.
It was in this way that she had become fond of Mrs Bateson, a woman in her seventies. It had become part of Olivia’s daily routine to spend several minutes out of her busy day talking with Mrs Bateson about the olden days, her fifty years of marriage to Bert, her six children, twenty grandchildren, and four greatgrandchildren. Emily Bateson was fascinating to talk to, to listen to, and with the lack of a closeness to her own parents Olivia became very fond of the elderly lady.
In fact the first time she had ever seen Marcus she had been standing at Mrs Bateson’s bedside talking to her about the expected visit from her frail husband, for the old lady was never happier than when her husband was going to keep her company for a time, most of her day spent in bed because of her illness.
Emily looked down proudly at the gold band on her wedding finger, worn thin with time. ‘Never been off my finger since the day Bert put it there,’ she glowed.
Olivia found the love the elderly couple still had for each other, even after fifty years of marriage, very beautiful to witness. During visiting time the couple would hold hands like two teenagers, and they never seemed to be angry with each other. Mr Bateson was always bringing a small gift for his wife, even if it was only a small container of talcum powder.
‘Curtains, Nurse,’ Sister Marton said briskly from behind her.
Olivia gave a guilty start and turned selfconsciously, only to collide with the person standing directly behind her. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, her lids fluttering up to meet frosty grey eyes, no sympathy for her embarrassment in the hard face as the man brushed past her to begin examining Mrs Bateson.
She beat a hasty retreat, joining the other nurses who had disappeared into the clinic-room at the advent of a consultant.
‘I see they’ve brought in the big man himself,’ Katy Barnes said softly.
‘Who is he?’ Olivia demanded of her fellow student-nurse in a whisper. As the two most junior nurses they were still a little shy about joining in conversations with the older girls.
‘Marcus Hamilton!’ Katy told her, scandalised that she hadn’t recognised him. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’
He certainly was, as handsome as he was reputed to be. Olivia had heard the hospital gossip about the attractive Mr Hamilton, the hospital’s top surgeon, and having now seen him she had to agree with the majority view—he was devastatingly handsome! He was very tall, with dark brown hair, kept short and tinged with grey at his temples, the face strong and dominating; the grey eyes piercing, the nose long and straight, his mouth stern and forbidding, the jaw angled squarely. As a consultant, high above the level of a doctor, he wore no white coat to identify him, and his dark three-piece suit was superbly tailored to his powerful body, his legs long and muscled.
He was breathtaking, and even Mrs Bateson was later full of her ‘handsome young doctor’, although Marcus Hamilton was obviously in his early thirties. That must have seemed young to Mrs Bateson, although it seemed very mature to Olivia.
After that initial encounter she saw Marcus about the hospital several times, occasionally with other consultants or doctors, but usually alone. He seemed a very solitary man, his aloofness from the rest of the hospital staff making him a prime target for gossip, although it was the same aloofness that made it difficult to find out too much about him. And Olivia was very interested in knowing about him, suffering from her first crush ever on an older man.
It was one day two weeks after their first meeting that Marcus actually spoke to her—and in the circumstances she would rather he hadn’t.
Mrs Bateson had been looking anxiously at the open ward door all during visiting time, and finally it was Marcus Hamilton who came through it and walked to her beside, pulling the curtains about the bed himself, emerging ten minutes later, when all the visitors had gone from the ward, with his face set in harsh lines.
‘Nurse!’ he called Olivia over from where she had been hovering, worried by this strange turn of events.
‘Yes?’ She looked up at him with wide green eyes, so nervous she was shaking. ‘Sir,’ she added belatedly.
He seemed not to notice the drop of etiquette. ‘Would you go in with Mrs Bateson for several minutes? I don’t want her to be alone, one of her daughters should be in soon.’
‘Er—Of course,’ she looked startled. ‘What—–’
‘Her husband has just died.’
Olivia didn’t wait to hear any more, but hurried to the elderly lady’s bedside with a strangulated cry of pain. The light had gone from Mrs Bateson’s eyes, and all she could do was clutch on to Olivia’s hand as if she never wanted to let go. She didn’t even cry, although Olivia felt as if she needed to. Sister Marton looked in a few minutes after Marcus had left, nodding approvingly before quietly leaving again.
Time seemed to stand still after that, the time passing although neither of them seemed aware of it; there was no conversation between them, the elderly lady seeming to draw comfort from Olivia being at her side.
Suddenly Mrs Bateson spoke. ‘We always said we wanted to go together,’ she murmured softly.
‘Mrs Bateson—–’
‘I can’t go on without Bert,’ the old lady told her sadly. ‘One day you’ll understand, Olivia,’ she used her first name without conscious thought, although Olivia couldn’t remember ever telling it to the other woman, the familiarity not really being allowed. Not that she thought anyone would object in the circumstances! ‘I’ve loved Bert all my life, and without him I just don’t want to live.’ She lay very still in the bed.
‘Mrs Bateson, you mustn’t talk this way—–’
‘Nurse King!’
Olivia looked up to see Marcus Hamilton standing just outside the slightly opened curtains that were still pulled about the bed, gently releasing her hand from Mrs Bateson’s to go to him. ‘Yes, sir?’ she queried softly, amazed that he knew her name.
‘How is she?’ His expression was intent.
It was a strange question for a consultant to ask a junior nurse—after all, he was the expert. ‘Er—she’s very shocked—sir,’ she moistened her lips in her nervousness. ‘Although she seems to be coming out of that now,’ she frowned her concern.
‘Yes?’ Marcus Hamilton sensed her worry.
‘She’s talking about dying.’
‘God! Sorry, Nurse King,’ he was at once the controlled consultant once again, ‘I’m going in to talk to her for a few minutes—the family
