a number of people know.’
The voice she remembered, even with the memory tucked away, hardened.
‘And a high percentage of them are influential in both medical and government circles, but—what are you? Thirty-one? Thirty-two?—you must know how political medicine is. Hospitals have to fight each other for the best funding deals, fight for corporate sponsorship. If news of this unit had leaked out, there’d have been a furore about funds being diverted from other places. We needed it to be a fait accompli before making any announcement.’
He strode across the dais then propped his elbows on the lectern and turned to look back at her, as if prepared to lecture his audience of one.
‘You’ll hear all of this very shortly—and after that the word will spread and the fun and fighting will begin. But believe me, Annie Talbot, this unit will not only come into being, it will eventually be the best in the country. And the model that I want it to be.’
Annie, at first affronted by his quite accurate guess at her age, heard the fire of dedication in his voice. It made her study him more closely—the craggy face, with a straight sharp nose, firm chin, untidy eyebrows over stern grey eyes—and what she saw—and sensed in him—stirred a feeling of true elation. Forget jolts of recognition and kisses in the past! If what he was saying was true, then this was going to be the job of her dreams, not just, as she’d thought when she’d applied for it, a stepping stone to something special. This was going to be the something special she’d always hoped was out there for her. The something special to which she could dedicate her life!
Alex watched a whole array of expressions flash across his companion’s face. Used to reading faces—how else could babies tell you how they felt?—he saw puzzlement, then surprise, then something that looked very like excitement. Whatever it was, it brought a glow to her pale skin, making the brush of freckles—a familiar brush of freckles, he was sure—across her nose and cheeks appear luminous. Then clear hazel eyes lifted to meet his, and her smile lit up the dreary lecture room.
‘This, Dr Alex Attwood, is what I’ve been waiting for for ever, it seems. Yes, I know about hospital fighting and it won’t only be hospital against hospital, there’ll be in-house battles as well as other departments fighting to keep money or claim money they feel is being siphoned off to your unit.’
‘Our unit,’ he corrected, but he doubted she’d heard him, so intent was she on what lay ahead of both of them.
‘But we’ll fight and we’ll win,’ she continued, as if driven by some inner force. ‘Because you’re good—the best, most people say—at what you do, and because I’ll be the best damn unit manager ever put on earth.’
She smiled at him again, triumph already shining in her eyes.
‘You have no idea just how much this means to me,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
Then, almost under her breath, he thought he heard her add, ‘Again.’
Puzzled by the strength of her reaction, he forgot the puzzle of ‘again’ and considered where they stood. He was pleased to hear the commitment in her words and voice, but to be thanking him?
Did she not realise just how hard and dirty the fight ahead of them was likely to be? Didn’t she realise she should be running for her life, not thanking him with such delight?
And why would any woman so obviously welcome the challenge the unit would provide? Most women he knew would back away—say thanks but, no, thanks.
Maybe she saw only the glory at the end—the image of herself as manager of an elite unit. But she looked far too sensible—and if she’d managed the PICU she was far too experienced—not to know how dirty hospital fights could get.
‘To the best of our ability we’ll ignore the politics,’ she said—not ‘we should’ but ‘we will’! ‘We’ll make our name on results. Of course, to get results you need the best staff, and that usually requires money, but if we have to work with what we have, then we’ve got to make them the best.’
‘Hey, we haven’t had the staff briefing yet, and already you’re into staff training.’
She swung her head to look at him again, and the way her hair moved reminded him of moonlight on a lake, al-though her hair was dark and shiny, not pale as the silk he’d spun off silkworm cocoons when he was a child.
‘Aren’t you?’ she challenged, and it took him a moment to think what they’d been talking about.
Of course he was. He’d thought of nothing else for weeks. Every free moment had been given over to working out how he could bring the unit staff to the level of expertise he’d require from them. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that to this woman just yet.
In fact, he felt a little put out—as if she’d taken some of his dream away from him, as if she was already sharing it.
Which was good, he reminded himself. The entire staff needed to share the dream—to be committed to it. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready to share, he just hadn’t expected anyone to take it on board so wholeheartedly—so immediately.
Noises outside suggested other staff were arriving.
He glared at Phil as he wandered in, greeting Annie as if they’d been friends for years, putting his arm around her waist to draw her forward so he could introduce her to Maggie and Kurt and Rachel.
For one brief, irrational moment Alex was sorry he’d brought Phil to St James, then he remembered that Phil, for all his flirtatious ways and womanising, was one of the best surgeons he’d ever worked with. He needed Phil here—the unit needed him.
Besides, Annie Talbot had drawn away from his arm, positioning herself out of touching distance of Phil.
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU’D like them, Henry. All of them. Even the boss,’ Annie said, as they breakfasted the following day. ‘Maggie’s an Australian, from Melbourne, Kurt and Rachel are Americans—they came out to Melbourne with Alexander the Great.’
As Henry was the recipient of this information, she didn’t have to explain that the title his staff had given him had stuck in her brain. That was the nice thing about talking to Henry. She didn’t have to explain.
‘Phil, although he’s originally from England, came with them from the States as well, because he’s learning under you know who for five years. Phil’s a flirt with a predilection for blondes, I suspect. He’s been chatting up Becky, the unit secretary, and she’s blonde, and I saw him in the canteen with one of the unit nursing staff—another blonde.’
Annie reached up and pushed her hair back behind her ears, then she rubbed Henry’s head.
‘Good thing I’ve had a dye job, isn’t it, Henry?’
But although she spoke lightly, her heart was heavy, and though the new job seemed to hold the promise that all her dreams could come true, she was edgy and apprehensive about working with ‘the Great’.
She’d spent a restless night hovering in the no man’s land between sleep and waking, trying desperately to rationalise this uneasiness, finally deciding that in part it was to do with her denial—that their work relationship had started off
