more important than the needs of the very special babies we have in here?’
She could do sarcasm too.
He inhaled deeply, almost like he wanted to show her just how broad his chest was. But Esther had never been easily intimidated by anyone. ‘I’m Harry Beaumont. I’m here to do the surgery on your patient.’
She raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘Ah, so you’re here to do the surgery on Billy.’ She pointed one finger at him. ‘In that case, you can stay. Everyone else can wait outside. Unless you’ve brought your own anaesthetist with you.’ She shrugged. ‘If you have, then he, or she, can stay too.’
Eleven other faces exchanged anxious glances, so Esther turned her head a few times as she spoke. ‘The babies in here are just too susceptible to infection to have this many people around. Visitors are strictly limited, for good reason.’ She looked at them all. ‘As I don’t know who any of you are—and to be honest, I’m a bit funny about letting people I don’t know into my NICU too—I’m just going to assume that you’re all either medical professionals or trainees, therefore I don’t need to explain the principles of infection control to you, so you’ll all completely understand that this amount of people is overkill—’ she turned her head back towards Harry ‘—even for a surgeon.’
She’d spoken quite a lot, but knew entirely that all the emphasis was on the things she hadn’t said, but had left implied.
There was a tic at the side of Harry’s jaw. He was mad. She didn’t care. She wanted to tug at her scrub top again. NICUs were always really warm, but this amount of people in close proximity was making her sweat. But tugging at the top would mean she’d have to unfold her arms and that would be a sign of weakness. So not happening.
It was the longest pause. Harry gave the tiniest nod of his head. ‘Francesca, will you stay with me, please? The rest of you, if you wait outside we’ll find a teaching area where I can explain things in due course.’
Francesca was a petite redhead who was grinning conspiratorially at Esther. She let the rest of the entourage leave, then asked, ‘Can I see Billy’s films? I’d like to review them before we examine him.’
‘Of course,’ said Esther, gesturing for both of them to follow her to the nearest computer screen. ‘Have you been assigned temporary log-in credentials?’
‘I have,’ said Harry, moving over next to her and tapping his details in.
It only took a few moments for a scowl to come over his face. ‘I sent a list of tests to be completed for Billy before I got here. Some are missing.’
‘They are?’ Esther moved closer, checking the screen. She’d checked before she’d gone off shift yesterday when there were just a few still to be completed. Ruth had said the rest had been done. What was missing?
She turned to Harry. ‘What is it that you’re looking for?’
‘His bloods. From this morning.’
Of course. ‘I’m sure they were done—they’ve probably not been reported on yet. Don’t worry, I can phone the lab and put a rush on them.’
Harry straightened and gave her an incredulous glance. ‘What do you mean you’re “sure they were done”? You mean you don’t actually know? And why wasn’t there already a rush put on them?’
She stiffened. He was speaking to her as if she was incompetent. Of course she should know if Billy’s bloods had been done or not. But the specialist phlebotomist would have been here while Esther was on her break. If she hadn’t been late back, she might have had a chance to check…
She kept her face blank. Her back was aching. ‘The orders for the bloods were put in last night. At that point, you hadn’t told us when you were coming, or let us know if you’d secured theatre time for Billy. If you had, there would have been a rush put on his bloods.’
She moved over to the desk to pick up the phone. Every word he’d said had annoyed her. But what irked most was that they felt true.
What was wrong with her? She prided herself on being meticulous at work. It wasn’t like she’d made any kind of mistake but…in her brain it almost felt like that. Double-checking things was second nature to her.
‘I’m used to working with professionals. I guess the standards here are not what I’m used to.’
‘Excuse me?’ She couldn’t help herself. There was no way she going to let anyone accuse her of being unprofessional. It was the biggest slight that someone could say to a nurse or midwife.
But it seemed that Harry was off on a rant. He kept his voice low, so that no one else in the unit could hear. ‘Why does Billy still have a feeding tube in situ? In order for Francesca to anaesthetise him, she needs to ensure his stomach is empty. His feeding should have stopped a few hours ago.’
Now Esther wanted to shout at him, but just at that moment a voice answered at the end of the phone. ‘Lab,’ came the weary response.
Something inside Esther panged. Whoever was working there was obviously every bit as tired as she was. ‘It’s Esther from NICU. Can I chase bloods for a baby that’s going to Theatre?’
There was a sigh and murmur of consent. She replaced the receiver and turned to face Francesca, completely ignoring Mr Entourage. She wasn’t even prepared to use his name right now.
‘If you refresh the screen in around five minutes Billy’s bloods will be available. One of the machines was down for a few hours this morning but it’s back up and running now. Billy’s bloods had already been in the system. They’re just waiting for his clotting factor.’
Francesca gave a nod. ‘Perfect.’
Esther looked at Harry’s screen. He was looking at the cardiac echo that had been taken yesterday. Billy needed his surgery, badly.
She moved alongside Harry. ‘I have many skills, Mr Beaumont, but mind reading isn’t one of them. Like I said earlier, if you’d given us notice of Billy’s procedure, then we’d have made sure his feeds were stopped in good time. As it was, his tube dislodged last night and had to be replaced. Billy already had a few hours without sustenance, while his tube was re-sited and then checked. His feed only started again in the last hour.’ She braced herself and turned her head towards him. ‘And for me, unprofessional is a surgeon sweeping into a NICU with an entourage of twelve people with no regard for the patients or parents who are already in a stressful environment. For a surgeon with your apparent experience, I’d expect better.’
Harry was trying his absolute best to keep his temper in check, but this midwife was trying his patience in every possible way. It didn’t help that she had a cheek to be angry at him, or that when she was clearly annoyed she spoke so quickly he had to concentrate to make out a single word that she said. Her Scottish accent was fierce. A bit like she was.
By rights she should probably have fiery red hair to match. But she didn’t. She had dark hair that was up in a ponytail, and her skin looked as though it had once been tanned but was now strangely pale. He couldn’t possibly ignore the dark circles under her blue eyes, or the dirty scrubs she was wearing. He wasn’t quite sure what all this meant—apart from the fact she was looking after
