Tilly,’ she said briskly, as she folded the towel neatly and hung it on a rail, ‘as far as I’m concerned, the new registrar can look like Godzilla as long as he can do the job. Unless he can patch someone up who’s been in an RTA and send them home better than they came in, I can assure you that a whole team of rugby-playing registrars dressed only in their birthday suits wouldn’t interest me…’
Tilly’s eyes swivelled to look at the door behind Jandy, and widened slightly, then she gave a little giggle. ‘Oops!’ she muttered.
Jandy whirled round and reddened. ‘Oh…er, hello,’ she said lamely to the tall, broad man who stood in the doorway. She was conscious of a strong patrician face and dark blue eyes looking into hers, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
Trust her to make a fool of herself, she thought ruefully. A flustered glance at the man confirmed that with his formidable physique he was definitely the sort who would like roaring around a rugby pitch on a wet Saturday afternoon or pounding the streets in an invigorating daily run. He was almost certainly the new registrar, and he looked every inch the super-confident hot-shot doctor from London, as Bob Thoms had put it!
His gaze flickered over her in a mildly interested manner, taking in her slightly flushed cheeks and wide dark brown eyes.
‘I don’t normally turn up for work in a birthday suit,’ he remarked blandly. ‘But I do play rugby and I hope I can send the patients home in fairly good shape!’
He had a deep attractive voice—‘well bred’ was the expression that sprang to mind.
Jandy allowed herself a prim smile, and said in a dignified tone, ‘I’m just trying to explain to Tilly here that expertise is more important than anything…’
‘Of course, I couldn’t agree more,’ the man said, nodding gravely. ‘I’m Patrick Sinclair, by the way—taking over from Sue Gordon. I was told that there might be some coffee going if I was lucky.’
His sudden smile took her by surprise, rather like the sun coming out from a cloud, and it lit up his whole face. He looked almost boyish and, Jandy supposed grudgingly, was reasonably good looking. She noticed a faded white scar that ran down the side of one cheek—the result of a rugby tackle, she imagined, and when he turned on the smile Jandy could easily understand why Tilly had fallen for him. But how would she feel if she discovered he had a wife and three children?
Jandy held her hand out to him and said rather stiffly, ‘Welcome to Delford General, then. I’m Staff Nurse Jandy Marshall, and this is Tilly Rodman, one of our student nurses.’
He turned to Tilly dipping his head slightly. ‘Ah, yes—we met before, I think. I’m looking forward to working with you.’
Tilly gulped and stared at him admiringly. ‘Yeah…great…’
‘Perhaps a cup of coffee for Dr Sinclair,’ prompted Jandy with a touch of impatience.
Tilly looked as if she was rooted to the spot by the sight of this man—surely all the women in Casualty weren’t going to buckle at the knees as soon as they saw him, Jandy thought irritably. She flicked another look at Patrick Sinclair—he was just another locum registrar passing through the department for a few months, a stopgap until Sue returned. OK, so he looked rather like a marketer’s dream for advertising some quasi-medical cure for flu—she supposed deep blue eyes in a strong good-looking face could easily persuade gullible people to buy a product…
She frowned: Patrick Sinclair had the confident air of someone who knew how attractive he was—but he was here to do a job, not act as the department’s pin-up! As a single mum juggling motherhood and a demanding job, she certainly wasn’t going to pander to his self-importance.
Karen Borley put her head round the door. ‘Tilly—can you come to the plaster room, please, and do a bit of clearing up—the place is a tip.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ Tilly thrust a cup of coffee into the man’s hand and bolted out of the room, with a final blushing look at Patrick, and Jandy was left alone with him.
In the short silence between them Jandy caught a depressing sight of herself in the mirror over the sink. She didn’t look her best—as usual her hair was scraped back into a ponytail to keep it off her face, and she hadn’t a scrap of make-up on. If only she’d put on a touch of lipstick it might have made her look less severe, less pallid, instead of which she looked what she was: an overworked single mum who’d been multi-tasking since she’d got up that morning! Not that it mattered what Patrick Sinclair thought of her looks, she told herself sharply. Nevertheless, she drew herself up to her full five feet six inches, and sucked in her stomach.
‘Have you had a tour of the department yet?’ she asked Patrick.
‘Not yet. Dr Vernon was called away and didn’t have time to show me much.’
He took a sip of coffee and for the first time she noticed the broad band of gold on his left ring finger. So he was married—a crushing blow to Tilly and probably every woman in Casualty, thought Jandy wryly. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to start moping because he was a married man, even though she had to admit that he was the first blazingly attractive male to have worked in A and E for ages—which didn’t mean she had to start thinking of love, romance or any sort of attachment. The last sort of man she needed was another hot-shot guy from the cosmopolitan life in London who found himself in the northern sticks of England and was married—she’d been there, done that.
He smiled at her. ‘So you and I are going to be colleagues—have you been at Delford General long?’
‘About three years now—I enjoy it really, most of the time. Where have you been working?’
‘In London, at S. Cuthbert’s. It’s a good hospital—I’ve been there since I qualified, but the last six months I’ve been with the London Air Ambulance for a stint.’
Jandy was impressed despite herself—this guy had some pretty comprehensive experience in trauma, and you had to have nerves of steel to cope with the serious accidents you dealt with on a daily basis.
‘Won’t you miss that? It could seem quite dull here!’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think so—I might miss the good things about London, like the river, the Houses of Parliament, all the theatres…’
Suddenly a picture flashed into her mind of him in a theatre foyer, dressed immaculately in a dinner jacket, with a gorgeous woman on his arm, an easy, sophisticated confidence about him—leading the kind of life that she could only dream of.
‘I expect,’ she said challengingly, ‘you’ll find us old-fashioned after a place like St Cuthbert’s.’
He looked at her quizzically, detecting her defensive tone, and remarked lightly, ‘I’m sure I won’t—most hospitals have similar procedures, don’t they?’
‘But what on earth made you come up to Delford?’ Jandy asked rather bluntly. ‘It sounds as if you had a wonderful life in London.’
‘My father isn’t too well and I need to be nearer him,’ he explained. ‘There’s a lot of sorting out to be done which I can’t do from London.’
Although he probably wishes he wasn’t here in boring Delford, which could boast a cinema and not much else, surmised Jandy, but she felt a little ashamed of her unwelcoming thoughts and said
