Angel Kate
by
Anna Ramsay
When the nurse from heaven meets
the patient from hell
– someone's gotta give.
Parma Medical Romances
This is a rewritten edition of Angel in Disguise,
originally published by Mills&Boon Ltd.
Angel Kate
© 2013 by Parma Medical Romances
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in
accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the
copyright owners.
The characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. All the incidents are pure invention.
ISBN 978-1-95757-265-2 (ePUB)
ISBN 978-1-95757-264-5 (MOBI)
eBook production by Oxford eBooks Ltd.
B
ringing with him the drama of an operating theatre and a whiff of antiseptic, a tall surgeon appeared in the waiting room - still wearing his green theatre gown, mask dangling under his chin, hair ruffled from his theatre cap. Upturned faces focused on him, registering mingled anxiety and hope.
Tom surveyed the room, his eyes red-rimmed from peering through telescopic eyepieces. He was seeking out his patient's relatives.
It had been a long and delicate procedure. Pauline's family must be exhausted with worry - he must give them news without further delay.
One man leapt tensely to his feet. The chief of neurosurgery came over and shook his hand. A teenage daughter sat biting her nails, her face pale and her fingers twisting in her long fair hair.
'All is well,' he said before the husband could ask. 'I'm sorry it's been such a long wait for you both. These things take a bit of time to sort out,' he added laconically, sketching over the awesome complexity of brain surgery.
'Pauline's come round from the anaesthetic and we're transferring her to the Neurological Intensive Care Unit. Give it another ten minutes, then you can go up and see her.' He winked at the teenager who smiled shyly back. Said kindly, 'Don't be alarmed by all the equipment your Mum's hooked up to. She's going to be fine. I'm hopeful for a complete recovery.'
The other relatives stared and wished it was Mr Galvan operating on their loved ones.
The husband's eyes filled with tears. The young girl saw this and grabbed hold of her father's hand, her chin wobbling. He tried to speak but his voice was choked. 'Thank you, sir, thank you from the bottom of my heart.'
Tom laid a reassuring hand on his arm. He didn't like it when they called him 'sir'. They thought because he did such an amazing job, he was an amazing person. Truth was, he was a lucky guy. Neurosurgery was the best job ever. An operating theatre was his second home.
'Tom,' he said gruffly, 'just call me Tom.'
* * *
Kate peeled off her gardening gloves, sat back on her heels and beamed with satisfaction.
'Just you try and hop up there, you old carrot fly!'
It was a bit makeshift, her raised vegetable bed. Nailed together from a pile of old wood found at the bottom of her long thin garden. But old Mr May next door said it should do the trick and keep the dreaded carrot fly at bay. Because, he told her, the carrot fly can't actually fly. It does its damage at ground level.
She'd filled the bed with compost wheeled home from the garden centre in big plastic sacks balanced precariously on the handlebars of her bicycle. Added some garden soil and a sprinkling of bonemeal as Mr May advised. His vegetables won prizes. His flower garden was a real picture.
'That's two rows of carrots, One row of Little Gem lettuce. Curly parsley – and beetroot because it's supposed to be a superfood and will be good for James.'
She really wasn't sure about the beetroot. Whether that would work.
Kate glanced at her watch and got a bit of a shock. If she didn't get a move on, she'd be late for the night shift.
She hurried back into the cottage and headed straight for the shower. While she was in the shower the phone rang but the caller didn't leave a message. When she checked, the number came up: 'International.' That would be Mum, calling from Munich. Kate would get back to her tomorrow when she came off duty.
* * *
It was more than an hour later when Mr Galvan, consultant in neurosurgery at St Crispin's, left the hospital by the main entrance. A light wind had sprung up as daylight began to fade. He paused on the flight of steps, collar of his dark overcoat turned up, patting his pockets and feeling for something hidden in the depths.
'Goodbye, Mr Galvan!'
'Goodbye there … goodnight.'
Cars were turning in through the gates as the night staff arrived. In the shelter of a corner of the building, Tom lit a small cigar. It helped him switch off after a day of typically long and complex procedures.
He was greeted over and over again. Within the hospital community there was a real affection for this talented man with his lopsided smile and searching steel-grey eyes. Some were colleagues, some faces he recognised but couldn't put a name to. Others were friendly strangers. Big teaching hospital in a cathedral city … well, you couldn't hope to know everyone.
Galvan was one of the new informal breed of consultants who refused to stand on ceremony and treated everyone as equals. His broad shoulders easily carried the weight of responsibility for his department. But he was as human as the next man, and physically weary after the twelve-hour day in theatre.
As he smoked he watched the comings and the goings. A figure on a bicycle shot through the gates, pedalling hell for leather and weaving a path of its own among the parked vehicles, khaki forage cap pulled well down over the cyclist's forehead. It looked like one of the young porters, cutting it a bit fine. Probably a student doing temporary work during his university vacation.
At the cycle racks the rider skidded to a halt and almost fell off. Tom winced.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and distracted him. 'Cheers Tom!' It was the consultant anaesthetist who had worked with him throughout the long day. 'Bye Graham. And thanks again. See you in the morning.'
Tom glanced back to the cycle racks hoping the kid was okay – just in time to see the forage cap tugged off and a mermaid fall of long brown hair tumble down as the cyclist leaned over to snap shut the padlock.
It was a girl. A woman. A mermaid with legs – and what great legs! Rucksack on her back she came towards him, tall and leggy in her skinny black velvet jeans. The way she moved was mesmerising, long elegant limbs swinging smoothly from narrow hips. Tom's professional eye noted the length of bone, the ratio of tibia to femur – perfectly proportioned. A loose charcoal sweater shrouded her body from throat to thigh, the waterfall of shiny brown hair falling to below narrow shoulder-blades, her face a pale oval in the fading light.
Visiting a patient on the wards. Lucky patient. Tom exhaled, eyes narrowed against the smoke.
The mermaid must have picked up the smell of tobacco before she caught sight of him standing watchful near the main door. 'Goodnight Mr Galvan,' she said coolly, and as she turned her head toward him the wind whipped her hair across her face so that he caught no more than an impression.
Tom Galvan looks as if he's had a tough day.
Kate's sidelong glance took in the tall man, overcoat collar pulled up to ruffle the curly hair at the nape of his neck.
He really could do with a haircut. Probably far too busy…
'Goodnight,' he answered softly, his deep voice tinged with an amusement that for a moment puzzled Kate.
Interesting!
mused Tom. So the walking talking mermaid is coming on night duty and is now heading purposefully in the direction of A&E. How come I've never spotted her before …
Even though his eyes were burning with fatigue, he'd never be too far gone to appreciate a woman like this one. An attractively uncomplicated girl, hair straight and shiny and swinging and that carefree stride taking her confidently on her way, not a care in the world.
Hah!
Last time he'd tried to stroke Diana's hair she had jerked her head away as though his surgeon's fingers would ruin her expensive Sloane Street cut-and-finish.
Tom strode through the car park, car keys in hand. He pressed the remote lock and saw the answering flash of lights from his convertible. The hood rolled smoothly down.
At the entrance to A&E something made Kate glance back, just in time to see Mr Galvan drive away, the breeze ruffling his thick dark hair. Only a Lambo could look that cool in yellow. She watched admiringly till it disappeared from view.
Kate hadn't always got around on two wheels. She was remembering her excitement when for her eighteenth, Dad gave her a little sports BMW. Oh the
thrill
of that first time driving down the Kings Road and waving to her Chelsea friends. Those were the days she wanted to forget. The wasted worthless days of an idle teenager who thought exams were for idiots and rocking up at school was a waste of a good time.
But she was twenty-five now. With one huge regret that was always going to weigh heavily on her mind. Older and definitely wiser. And content with the new life she had made for herself after her father died. A simpler life. A proper working girl.
* * *
Tom made a snap decision. Instead of the half-hour drive back to Foxe Manor, he would stay over at his city flat, get in a take-away, make an early night of it.
He couldn't stop thinking about the girl with the mermaid hair: the vision of her seemed to be imprinted on his retina.
Must be hallucinating!
thought Tom.
Now it's my own brain demanding a break
.
He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, only to find Diana's Hollywood-white smile dazzling him from the windscreen. Good thing he wasn't attempting the longer drive with these two Lorelei conspiring to unsettle him. Could there be two more different women? The mermaid with the great legs, and Diana. Diana—groomed for the TV presenter's job she'd been selected for from over a hundred highly-qualified women medics. Groomed till she glittered like the small-screen star she'd become. Clever and brittle. Unrecognisable as the fellow medical student he'd been infatuated with at university.
Tom's mouth twisted bitterly. His right foot stabbed down to send the car surging across amber traffic lights.
Doesn't need me any more! Financially, or in any other way!
* * *
Behind Accident and Emergency lay the low white spread of the Pathology buildings where Kate's boyfriend worked, preparing slides and poring over frozen sections sent down from the theatres for investigation. After a full day's work Dr Mallory often stayed on, squeezing in unpaid hours for his own small research project.
He was in there tonight, working late. If Kate struck lucky and got a half-hour break, they'd see each other in the cafeteria. And if not, this was her last shift. She was off for six nights. Plenty of time for the two of them to get together.
Dr James Mallory, pathologist, had been seeing Kate for over a year and she naturally hoped their comfortable relationship would progress to a serious level. She longed to get married and had secret plans. James would sell his flat up by Lindminster cathedral. Or rent it to another doctor. Her little house would be perfect for the two of them - and for baby number one. They'd probably need to move to a bigger place when number two came along…