a quick course in self-assertiveness. She should have told Seth Hardcastle who she was. She should have said, Look, sunshine, I’m your boss, but the trouble was she’d never been the ‘Look, sunshine’ type. She’d always favoured the softly-softly approach both in her personal and her professional life, coaxing by persuasion rather than by confrontation, and it had worked. Well, it had worked in her professional life at any rate.
‘Liv, Phil was a jerk, and you divorced him,’ Deborah had said. ‘Get over it, move on.’ And she would. Eventually. But six months wasn’t nearly long enough to forget that the man who had promised to love and cherish her had been bedding his secretary on a depressingly regular basis throughout their short married life.
‘Are you all right?’
Babs was gazing at her curiously, and Olivia forced a smile.
‘I’m fine. It’s just…Is the department always this chaotic?’
The sister chuckled. ‘You should see us on a Saturday night. I don’t know how we’d manage without Seth and Jerry.’
Jerry Swanson. The department’s specialist registrar. Thirty-two and married to one of the nurses in Women’s Surgical, according to his file. She could handle him, but Seth Hardcastle…
The trouble was he looked even more impressive up close than he’d done in the waiting room. He shouldn’t have done. His blue eyes were bloodshot, his chin was dark with stubble and his black hair was falling carelessly over his forehead. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for days. He also looked as sexy as hell, and it wasn’t a reassuring combination.
‘I know Seth can be a bit abrasive,’ the sister continued, clearly misinterpreting her silence, ‘but he’s one of the best consultants I’ve ever worked with.’
And if I don’t toughen up, he’s going to walk right over me, Olivia thought as she heard Seth snap at something Tony Melville had said.
‘Oh, hallelujah,’ Babs exclaimed with relief. ‘Here come the crispy squad.’
The crispy squad. The irreverent name most A and E units gave to the burns unit. The crispy squad would take care of the little boy, Neurology was attending to the chest and head case, and Seth and Jerry could look after Mrs Lennox and the man with the open leg wound. She wasn’t needed any more. She could simply slip away, and she fully intended doing just that when she suddenly heard Seth say her name.
‘I’m afraid Seth’s on his high horse about our new clinical director,’ Babs said ruefully as a slight crease furrowed Olivia’s forehead. ‘He’s not very happy at her appointment.’
Not very happy was the understatement of the year, Olivia thought as she heard Jerry declare, ‘Look, all I said was I can’t see Admin appointing somebody with no A and E experience,’ and Seth flashing back, ‘Well, if she’s not a pen-pusher, I bet her so-called experience consists of performing unnecessary cosmetic operations on women with more money than sense.’
A spurt of anger flared inside Olivia as she stared at the consultant’s irate face, a spurt she hadn’t felt since she’d found out about Phil’s extra-marital affair. Just who the hell did Seth Hardcastle think he was? Well, she might not be able to tell him who he was, but she sure as shooting could tell him what he was.
She strode across the examination room, her brown eyes flashing, and arrived in time to hear Seth declare, ‘Just don’t come complaining to me when you discover she’s as much use as a plastic bag in a thunderstorm. This woman—’
‘This woman feels she ought to introduce herself before you say anything else,’ Olivia interrupted, her voice ice-cold. ‘I’m Olivia Mackenzie, your new pen-pushing clinical director.’
Jerry let out an anguished groan, but Seth didn’t look one bit discomfited. Instead, he met her gaze squarely.
‘I suppose you’re expecting an apology?’
‘Well, your manners could certainly do with some work—’
‘We don’t have time for manners in A and E, Dr Mackenzie, not when our patients are often bleeding like stuck pigs.’
‘No, but you seem to have plenty of time to bad-mouth a colleague behind her back,’ she snapped. ‘For your information, I worked for ten years in the A and E department of the Edinburgh General, and even if I hadn’t I would have expected you to extend me the courtesy of at least meeting me before you tore my character to shreds!’
A wash of bright colour flooded across Seth’s cheeks, and Olivia only just restrained herself from punching the air in triumph. She’d taken the wind right out of his sails, and it hadn’t been hard. In fact, it had been easy. She could be the in-your-face type after all, and it felt wonderful.
‘I…um…Our shift finishes in half an hour, Dr Mackenzie,’ Jerry Swanson said, far too brightly. ‘Would you like to stick around, join us for coffee in the staffroom?’
Seth didn’t second the suggestion. From his rigid expression she reckoned he was probably too busy wishing her dead.
‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ she said, summoning up her most gracious smile for the specialist registrar. ‘I told George I wouldn’t be long, and he must be wondering where I am.’
And with a nod to Babs and Tony Melville, she turned on her heel and walked out of the examination room, knowing Seth’s eyes were following her the whole way.
‘Arrogant, rude, obnoxious man,’ she muttered to herself as she drove home. ‘Somebody should have chopped him down to size years ago, and I don’t take back a word of what I said. I don’t.’
George clearly agreed with her when she told him all about it. At least, he followed her into the kitchen, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on her, which sort of suggested he agreed.
‘It’s not a bad department, George,’ she told him as she slid a chill-cook curry into the microwave. ‘Their treat and street times are far too long, and the waiting room is a disgrace, but at least they all seem to know what they’re doing. Even Seth Hardcastle.’
Actually, especially Seth Hardcastle, she thought, pausing as she reached for two bowls. He was obviously a first-rate consultant. A first-rate and now extremely angry consultant. Maybe she shouldn’t have been quite so in-your-face. Maybe she ought to have approached the situation differently. Maybe….
Oh, for crying out loud. Who’s the new clinical director here—you or him? He had no right to be talking about you behind your back, so stop being a wimp. You were a wimp for two years with Phil, and look where that got you.
She glanced down at George. ‘Do you think I went too far—said too much?’
He stared back at her uncomprehendingly for a second, then put his shaggy head down on his paws, and she sighed.
That was the trouble with dogs. No verbal reassurances, no bracing words of encouragement when you most needed them. They might be more loving and loyal than the average husband, but great conversationalists they weren’t.
Unlike her sister, she thought when the phone rang and she went out into the hall to answer it.
‘I just thought I’d phone to wish you the best of luck for tomorrow,’ Deborah exclaimed, bright and cheerful
