Wesley.’
‘Yes, I can,’ Amy said quietly. ‘It’s my choice. He asked me and I said yes.’
‘But why?’ Jennifer wailed softly.
‘Because I want a family,’ Amy said sincerely. ‘I want children. So does Nigel. He’ll be a good father. He takes his responsibilities very seriously.’
‘That’s not enough,’ Jen told her.
‘He loves me,’ Amy said firmly. ‘And I love him.’
‘Do you?’ Jennifer’s mouth twisted doubtfully. ‘Do you really love him?’
‘I think so,’ Amy replied. ‘Who really knows for sure?’
‘I would,’ Jennifer said with conviction. ‘And so should you. This isn’t good enough.’
‘It’s all that’s on offer.’ Amy drained her glass and set it down on a side table. ‘And I’m not going to lose the only chance I might ever get.’ She could see Nigel approaching. So could Jen.
‘He looks just like his mother,’ Jennifer observed casually. ‘Except she hasn’t got the beard…yet.’
Amy had to smile, she couldn’t help herself. Nigel was tall, slim and dark like his mother. His hair was swept back to sit neatly on his head. Everything about Nigel was neat. His black dinner suit fitted perfectly. The bow tie sat perfectly straight. His beard and moustache were trimmed with military precision. The impression of intolerance to anything stepping out of line was undermined only by the charming smile he directed at Amy.
‘I thought I’d lost you, darling,’ he said. ‘Come on. There’s someone I really want to introduce you to. Stuart Latimer is visiting from London.’ He linked Amy’s arm through his, gave Jennifer an apologetic inclination of his head and pulled Amy away. ‘You haven’t got a drink yet,’ he observed in surprise. ‘Let me find you a glass of champagne.’
Stuart Latimer was a large man, currently in conversation with Lorraine Wesley. He was clearly very impressed by the canapés being offered. One hand was covered by a serviette on which several small savouries nestled.
‘Delicious,’ he explained to Amy after they had been introduced. ‘Never tasted anything so good.’
‘They’re not too bad, are they?’ Lorraine looked satisfied. ‘I expect we’ll use these caterers for the wedding.’
‘When’s that going to be?’ Stuart enquired. He winked at Amy. ‘You’re a lucky girl, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, I’m the lucky one, Stuart,’ Nigel put in quickly. He slid an arm around Amy’s waist, which reminded her of her encounter with Patrick Moore earlier that day. She took a gulp of champagne.
‘October, we thought.’ Lorraine was eager to respond to Stuart’s question. ‘In a month or so.’
‘Did we?’ Amy was startled.
‘In the garden,’ Lorraine added.
‘Really?’ Amy twisted to look at Nigel. ‘I don’t remember discussing this.’
Nigel and Lorraine exchanged a glance. ‘We’re getting ahead of ourselves,’ Lorraine apologised. ‘After all, we haven’t even announced the engagement.’
‘Any chance of some more nibbles?’
‘Of course, Stuart.’ Lorraine looked relieved. ‘Come with me and we’ll find someone to look after you.’
Nigel steered Amy towards another knot of people. ‘I haven’t told you how gorgeous you’re looking tonight. Just perfect. You must wear your hair loose like that more often.’
‘I’ve got flat shoes,’ Amy confessed.
‘Of course you do. High heels wouldn’t be very practical for you, would they?’
‘Your mother thinks flat shoes should never be worn.’
Nigel smiled. ‘Don’t listen to my mother.’ He bent his head close to Amy’s. ‘She can be a bit overbearing at times.’ Nigel’s breath tickled Amy’s ear. ‘We’ll make our own decisions, Amy. You and me.’
Amy took a relieved swallow of her drink. She had nothing to worry about. Nigel could handle his mother. They would choose their own wedding arrangements. She would get married in a church, just to go against Lorraine’s wishes. They would have it catered by a restaurant. And Amy would wear completely flat shoes. Amy smiled brilliantly at Nigel before turning to the man beside him.
‘You know Murray Brownlie, don’t you, Amy?’
‘Yes.’ Amy’s smile was now shy. She had seen the eminent head of general surgery on many occasions but never on a social basis. Amy listened to the rest of the introductions and then caught the surgeon’s eye.
‘Did you operate on Daniel Lever earlier today?’
‘The young man whose car had the argument with a truck?’ Murray Brownlie nodded. ‘Indeed I did. He was lucky to survive.’
‘I hear he needed a splenectomy,’ Amy said. ‘Was that the main source of the abdominal bleeding?’
‘Hard to say whether the spleen or the liver was winning in the blood loss stakes. We ran through twelve units of whole blood before we had things finally sorted. We used autologous blood as well.’
‘That’s where you collect the patient’s own blood and give it back to them, isn’t it?’ Amy asked with interest.
The surgeon nodded. ‘You aspirate clean blood from the abdomen, anticoagulate it and return it to the patient via an IV cannula with a “cell saver” system.’
‘I’ve never seen it used,’ Amy confessed. ‘Daniel must have had some massive bleeding going on.’
‘One of the biggest liver lacerations I’ve tackled in quite a while, actually.’ Murray Brownlie glanced over his shoulder and then gave Amy the ghost of a wink as he lowered his voice. ‘My wife hates me talking shop,’ he told her. ‘Whereas I simply can’t resist.’ He smiled broadly. ‘Anyway, we sutured and ligated all the bleeding points we could find on young Daniel’s liver and then drained it all, but we still couldn’t get control. It was rather frustrating.’
‘What did you do?’ Amy was listening avidly.
‘Well, we achieved temporary control by clamping the free edge of the lesser omentum.’ Murray eyed Amy cautiously. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’
Amy nodded. ‘The omentum is a fold of the peritoneum that extends from the stomach to adjacent abdominal organs. The lesser omentum connects to the liver.’
The surgeon looked impressed. ‘Precisely. We considered putting in an omental pack and suturing it in place, but it wasn’t going to work so we ended up doing a hepatic lobectomy. Took quite a chunk of the lad’s liver out but it’s an amazing organ. Young Daniel should be functioning again quite normally in no time.’ Murray Brownlie smiled at Amy kindly. ‘This
