Olivia was on duty. It meant a detour on the way to and from the hospital, but he was worth it. She shouldn’t really have a dog at all, she knew that, not with the hours she worked, but he was company for her and taking him for long walks kept her fit.
Taking her water through to the sitting room, she eased off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet. Bouncer plonked himself next to her and laid his head on her knee, nudging her arm with his wet nose.
‘Okay, bossy boots, I get the message. You want your head scratched.’ Rubbing Bouncer’s golden fur, she clicked on the TV remote. Not that she really wanted to watch the news or follow some trashy reality show, it was more to fill the house with noise. When she and Richard had first viewed the house in Sea Cliff, they’d both known instantly it was the perfect forever home for them. It had spectacular views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific, and with its six bedrooms and three reception rooms had been more than large enough to entertain Richard’s business colleagues and clients. Most importantly, though, it was spacious enough to be filled with the children they had both longed to have together.
Now, without him in it, it just felt big and cold and empty. She’d considered selling it several times since Richard had died, but at first she hadn’t wanted to leave the house that still smelled of him, still held his memory in every room—especially the uncompleted nursery. Then, when the shadow of grief had lifted and she’d returned to work, she’d simply been too busy. Perhaps now was the right time to find a new home for her and the baby? Somewhere cosy with a smaller, more manageable garden and a playroom? Of course she would always miss Richard, and she would have his baby to remember him by, but the life they had shared was in the past. Hadn’t she promised herself a new start? Wasn’t having this baby the beginning of that? But with work and her pregnancy it was unlikely she’d get around to finding somewhere else to live now.
It wasn’t as if money was a problem. Richard had left her so well off that she’d never have to work again if she didn’t want to. But she did want to work. It was what kept her sane. She’d have to stop, of course, for a while at least, when this baby came along, but eventually she’d go back. Being single, she’d have to employ a nanny but, assuming she found the right person, that would be okay. She’d already asked an agency to start looking.
She placed a hand over her swelling stomach. ‘Not too long now, baby,’ she whispered. She should be relishing this brief interlude of peace and quiet, because when the baby came there wouldn’t be much of it. Not that she didn’t yearn to hold her child. Even another twenty-two weeks seemed an eternity.
She rested her head on the back of the couch and unexpectedly an image of David filled her mind. What was it about him that made her react the way she did? She’d never been attracted to his type before. The type that thought all he had to do was smile and a woman would melt.
She grimaced. To be honest, she had melted. Just a little bit. She’d liked the frank and blatant approval in his eyes. It had made her tingle, and that had made her feel good. More than good—it had made her feel alive. What woman wouldn’t feel flattered being admired by such a devastatingly attractive man? Until he’d seen her bump, of course. Then she had disappeared so far off his radar she might as well have been in outer space. Olivia tutted. Dr David Stuart might be gorgeous but he wasn’t for her. Especially now. All her love, affection and attention were going to be devoted to the child growing inside her—Richard’s child and hers. All things considered, David would have to remain where he belonged. In the realms of fantasy.
Bouncer was snoring contentedly so Olivia eased herself off the couch, careful not to disturb him. She crossed over to the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge twinkled in the night sky and a gentle breeze carried the sounds of distant traffic. Strange how this view always seemed to soothe her and fill her with renewed energy and hope. Perhaps it was the reminder that life went on, no matter how much you wanted time to stand still. And, oh, my God, Richard, I wanted time to stop before you died. But it hadn’t and she’d had to come to terms with life without him. She wrapped her arms around herself. In a few months she would have their baby and at least a part of Richard would live on.
CHAPTER TWO
OLIVIA bent over her patient in Resus as the nurses cut away his shirt and trousers. The accompanying paramedic recited the known facts about the casualty.
According to witnesses, a truck had made a right turn and his wing mirror had knocked the cyclist from his bike. The lorry driver was shocked but unharmed. When it came to a battle between a ten-ton truck and a push bike there was only ever one winner.
The cyclist was already wired to the monitors. His pulse was slow and his breathing shallow. She opened an eyelid and shone her torch. The pupil of the left eye did as it was supposed to, but the other was blown.
Very gently she removed his helmet, noting the blood stains on the back. Quickly she palpated along the skull until she found what she was looking for—a depression a couple of inches above the neck. Unconscious, skull fracture, unequal pupils—it all added up. He must have a haematoma causing compression of the brain stem.
‘I need a consult from Neuro,’ she said briskly. But, as always, the nurse had anticipated her order and was already on the phone.
‘They’re just finishing in Theatre. Someone will be here as soon as they can.’
‘Tell them I need them here, stat,’ Olivia said. Her patient had to have the pressure in his head relieved, and as soon as possible. With every second that passed his brain was swelling, pushing against the rigid bones of the skull.
‘I’ve found some ID,’ one of the nurses called out. ‘Your patient’s name is Mark Lightbody. He’s thirty-three. There’s also a number for his wife. I’ll give her a call and tell her to come.’
Olivia nodded. Poor Mrs Lightbody was about to have her day—possibly her life—ruined.
Mark was unconscious, and although he was still breathing unaided, she had to intubate him to secure his airway and maintain his oxygen levels. The measures she’d taken would keep him stable for a while, but surgery was the only way to relieve the growing pressure on his brain. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five minutes had passed since Kelly had phoned. Where the hell was the neurosurgeon?
Just when she was about to insist that Kelly phone again, the swing doors burst open and Dr Stuart strode in. She’d only seen him in passing since that first day and she was dismayed to note that her already escalated pulse upped another notch.
‘What do you have for me?’ he asked her as Candice stepped forward with a disposable gown.
‘Mark Lightbody. Cyclist with an occipital skull fracture. GCS six. Right pupil fixed and dilated. Left pupil responding normally. Apart from the injury to his head, he has only minor cuts and lacerations. He needs emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain.’
David grinned. ‘Doesn’t the attending—as in me—usually make that decision?’
As he was talking he was examining Mark. ‘But I have to agree. Unfortunately the theatre is still being scrubbed after our last case. It will take at least ten minutes to get another ready. He needs a craniotomy, so we’ll have to do it here.’
‘Here?’ Olivia echoed.
‘No reason why not. I assume you have a tray set up for that purpose?’
‘Yes, but shouldn’t we wait to get him to the OR?’
‘It will take time to get
