they made it to the office without any further manifestations of her condition.
Manifestations of something else, perhaps, when they’d bumped together in the lift, but it certainly wasn’t love, she assured herself. Attraction, maybe. And why not? He was an attractive man.
That thought alone was enough to make her seek refuge in her work. It had been so long since she’d considered the attractiveness or otherwise of men, this time she felt a shiver, not a quiver, and the shiver was more fear than attraction.
‘Come on, the unit can’t afford too much overtime. We’re all heading for that pub up the road for a drink to celebrate day two safely over.’
Phil had poked his head around the door and, looking at him, Annie suspected he hadn’t poked more of his body into the office because the rest of it was attached to Becky.
‘Maybe later. If you’re still there.’ Second small lie of the day as she had no intention of going near the pub. But it was only a self-preservation-type lie so surely that didn’t count! ‘Right now I have to finish some requisitions or the Great will have my hide.’
Phil rolled his eyes. ‘Forty-eight hours into the job and he’s got you bluffed already. Believe me, his bark is far worse than his bite—not that he barks all that often. Come and see the man relax—learn for yourself he’s human.’
For some reason Annie’s mind flashed to the kiss, and though she didn’t tell Phil, she was willing to admit to herself that she knew for sure he was human.
‘Maybe later,’ she repeated, pulling a sheaf of paper across the desk to let him know she was serious about working.
He shrugged good-naturedly and walked away, but what seemed like only minutes later her diligence was again interrupted.
‘Phil says you’re not coming for a drink. He’s blaming me—says I’m a slavedriver. Is there really so much work for you to do?’
Annie considered lie number three, then shook her head.
‘Not really. I do want to check these letters going out to possible corporate sponsors. You mentioning that cardiac units can generate more money than most hospital divisions started me thinking. It won’t take long, but I don’t feel like going out tonight anyway. I’ve not let anyone know I’d be later than usual, so I’d prefer to go straight home.’
Was that a lie? I’d prefer not to spend avoidable time with you would be closer to the truth, but that could be translated into going straight home.
‘There are people at home you have to let know?’
He asked the question softly, as if he didn’t want it to sound like prying.
‘Of course,’ she said, answering the question yet knowing it wasn’t an entire answer.
Knowing immediately from his silence he was waiting for the rest of it.
‘Dad and Henry. Both at home. Waiting.’
The silence that followed this less than explicit explanation seemed to hover in the room like a third person, then Alex nodded briefly, said, ‘Goodnight, then,’ and walked away.
‘If he’d asked, I’d have told him Henry was a dog,’ Annie told the door which had closed behind him.
‘Plege on!’ Alex said, the order crisp.
Who outside this room could guess it meant a cocktail of chemicals and nutrients, in the main a potassium solution—poison—would flow into the baby’s heart?
The tiny heart stopped beating. It was pale and floppy-looking, clearly visible to Annie where she stood on a stool behind the heart-lung machine that was oxygenating the baby’s blood while the intricate surgery took place.
She held her breath, knowing every second Baby Ross was on the machine increased the risk of long-term damage to his frail body. Alex had explained exactly what would happen at every stage of the operation. He’d called all unit staff, including the sisters from the special care unit, together and drawn diagrams on a whiteboard, but nothing had prepared Annie for how small and totally vulnerable Baby Ross would look on the operating table, or how desperately sad it would be to see the still, lifeless little heart.
She reminded herself his heart would start beating again within minutes. That Alex was the best at what he did. She swallowed the lump of fear for Baby Ross that had lodged in her throat, and concentrated on what was happening now.
The switch, they called it. Baby Ross had been born with TGA, or transposition of the great arteries, which in effect meant that oxygen-rich blood from his lungs, instead of being pumped around his body, was being pumped back into his lungs, while oxygen-depleted blood was recirculated through the rest of his body.
Baby Ross was unlucky to be born with TGA, but his lucky break had been being born in St James’s—Jimmie’s as the staff called it—not just at any time but three days after Alex and his team had begun work there.
Annie studied the man they called ‘the Great’.
Cool. Detached.
Ruthless?
She wasn’t sure about the last, although both the other words would describe her impressions of the man. Having worked with critically ill children for the last five years of her career, Annie knew both the children and their parents needed very special characteristics from their doctors and nurses—characteristics like warmth, compassion, understanding.
Yet the parents she’d seen with Alex in consultations in his rooms didn’t seem bothered by his attitude. In fact, some of them—the fathers in particular—seemed to appreciate the forthright way he described their child’s condition, and the deliberate way he warned them that all surgery had potential dangers for the patient, who could die or be brain damaged for life.
The first time Alex had said this in Annie’s hearing, she was sure she’d reeled from the shock, but in retrospect had decided it was only fair the parents knew the risk, although Alex had quickly followed up his warning with statistics proving how unlikely such an outcome was.
Her thoughts were wandering but her eyes followed every move of the surgeons’ hands. Alex, Phil and a surgical registrar Annie didn’t know were all working on this one small mortal, while Rachel passed instruments and Kurt Reynolds operated the heart-lung machine, making sure the flow of blood was just right for tiny fragile arteries and veins. Maggie Walsh gave blood-gas readings and oxygen perfusion rates in a calm, relaxed voice.
Maggie, a petite brunette, oozed confidence, a great asset in an operating theatre where things could so easily go wrong. Even when Baby Ross had arrested earlier, she’d remained calm, giving Alex the information he’d needed, easing everyone’s tension with her quiet calls of pressure and blood gas.
Was she involved with Alex?
Annie wasn’t sure why the thought entered her head, but once it lodged there she looked from Maggie to Alex, considering the idea. Almost wishing she’d gone to drinks with them on Tuesday evening so she could have seen them together socially.
She gave an impatient shake of her head and turned her attention to the tiny form on the table, although she was sure she felt a frown gathering on her forehead and there was a definite
