now. You were at the talk I gave at GOSH on the use of transoesophageal echocardiography for infants. We had a coffee together afterwards.’
His voice challenged her to deny it a second time!
Great Ormond Street Hospital—GOSH—of course she’d been there. How could she ever forget? She’d been so excited to be invited because back then she’d been considering paediatric surgery, and listening to the mesmeric speaker—this man—had crystallised her ambition.
But further memories of that fateful day brought such anguish she couldn’t stop herself hitting out at the man who’d provoked them.
‘The man I had coffee with was one of the foremost paediatric surgeons in the world, an innovator and inventor, always finding new ways to help the most vulnerable but important people in our society—children. I know you’ve been sick, but still there’s so much you could offer.’
She shouldn’t have let fly like that, and knew it, so guilt now mixed with the anguish churning inside her. The recipient of the tirade just sat there, eyes hooded and spots of colour on his cheeks as warning signs of anger.
‘The cart from the hospital is here, I’ll go,’ she said, her voice still taut—angry—hurt …
Ashamed?
Yes, very, but—
She thought she might have got away, but as she stalked out the door, jug of hot water still clenched in her hand, the man spoke.
‘Well, the woman I met was ambitious to do the same work!’
Sarah closed her eyes, feeling stupid, useless tears sliding down her cheeks, almost blinding her as she made her way back to the beach to collect her things.
She’d deserved that comment, lashing out at him the way she had, but his insistence she remember that day had brought back far too many memories—just when she was beginning to think she’d healed.
How could he have said that?
Something so personal, and obviously very hurtful.
Because her words had struck a nerve?
More like a knife in his chest, directly into the similar doubts he had about himself.
Doubts he refused to face …
Which was no excuse for him to hit back at her!
What was happening to him that he could say such a thing?
‘Done something stupid, have you?’
Sam Taylor, senior doctor at the hospital, charged into the bure.
It was impossible to brood with Sam around! He was a cheerful, capable man, who deftly delivered an analgesic to the wounded foot before suggesting Harry move to the hospital so the wound could be cleaned, while the antivenin and any further pain relief could be given intravenously.
He helped Harry out to the small electric cart that was the common transport on the island, and drove them up the hill from the resort to the neat little hospital.
Out of the hot water, the analgesic yet to work, the cramping, burning pain returned to both Harry’s foot and his lower leg. But his mind had other things to handle.
Despair that he’d flung those words at Sarah Watson returned. Ultra childish, that’s all it had been. Her words had stung, probably because there was an element of truth in them. In fact, they’d gone so deep he’d hit back automatically, and from the way her face had grown even paler, he’d hurt her badly.
She hadn’t deserved that, for all she’d earlier denied knowing him. She certainly hadn’t deserved it after getting him back to the bure and providing pain-relieving first aid. With agonising pain shooting up his leg, he’d not have made it alone.
‘You brooding over something or is it just the pain?’ Sam asked, as they pulled up at the small hospital.
‘I don’t brood!’ Harry snapped, then regretted it.
More to brood over!
‘I didn’t think so,’ Sam said cheerfully. ‘Come on, we’ll get you inside.’
Keanu Russell, the second permanent doctor at the hospital, had appeared and with Sam helped Harry through the small emergency room and into a well-equipped treatment alcove.
Harry checked out the paraphernalia by the bed.
‘All this for a sting? Or are the spines lodged in my foot? Is it one of the deadly marine creatures that seem to flourish in these parts?’
Sam smiled and shook his head.
‘You’re here because we have good monitoring equipment in here. We can hook you up to oxygen, use a pulse oximeter, and a self-inflating blood-pressure cuff. And with a few wires on your chest, the screen will tell us all we need to know. And no, it’s not deadly. Just painful.’
‘Tell me about it!’ Harry grumbled. ‘I see myself as a tough guy but it was all I could do to not whimper while Sarah was helping me to my bure.’
‘Going to keep him in?’ Keanu asked Sam, as the two men efficiently attached him to the monitoring equipment.
‘Nah, he’s strong, and he just told us he’s tough, so he’ll survive. We’ll drip the antivenin in, let him rest for a while, check everything’s working as it should be, then send him home. He might only be a surgeon but I reckon he knows enough general medicine to yell for us if he has any further problems.’
Harry had to smile at the laid-back, teasing attitude of these men who worked on the island. They did enormous good, providing medical assistance and support to the whole M’Langi group of islands. It was a complicated programme of clinic visits, preventative medicine, rescue work and emergency callouts, yet they made everything seem easy.
Maybe if he stayed here long enough, he might pick up some of the relaxed island vibe.
Impossible right now, though. The woman he’d just hurt was walking into the room, still in the long white shirt she wore over a black bathing suit, a black and white striped beach towel slung over her shoulder, and an obviously anxious expression on her face.
Anxious about his well-being?
Well, she was a doctor!
‘Is he okay?’ she asked Sam.
‘Ask him yourself,’ Sam retorted, and the sea-green eyes set in that pale creamy skin turned towards him, narrowing slightly.
‘Are you?’ she demanded.
‘Hey, be nice. He’s a patient,’ Sam reminded her.
‘Yours, not mine. I just happened to be there when he strolled through reef waters without anything on his feet.’
She didn’t actually add the idiot, but the words hung in a bubble in the air between them.
But even with her contempt there for
