Angel Kate (7 page)

To annoy her, Tom deliberately reached up with his good hand and messed up his hair.
Tender loving care indeed! I'm shut in here with a woman intent on torture. Who's pretending to be someone she isn't! Just you wait till they've gone, Nurse Gertie.

'Behaving himself is he, nurse?' Jonathan Reeves came round to the other side of the bed and turned back the sheets.

'No,' exclaimed Kate, meeting Tom's stare eyeball to eyeball. 'Mr Galvan's the most restless, ungrateful, disobedient patient ever.'

'Ha ha!'
they all said, thinking this was just what Tom needed: a nurse with a good sense of humour cheering him up all day.

'Cared for by the very nurse who saved you from haemorrhaging to death!' exclaimed the dapper Mr Reeves. 'It's not easy to put gratitude into words, is it Tom, but you'll have done your best.'

 Jonathan Reeves was in his late forties and famous for his sharp taste in suits. He was privately thinking that he'd never seen such a spectacular waistline on a nurse: surely eighteen inches went out with the Victorians? No wonder Tom was perking up at last, with that hourglass shape flittering round him all day.

Mortified by James's comment, Kate had reverted to her everyday self, ditched the glasses and tightened her navy belt with its hospital badge clasp—not that Tom Galvan seemed to have noticed the improvement.

She bent over the dressings trolley and tidied it all over again. Anything to avoid Tom's eye. Especially as it was gross exaggeration to imply she'd saved the neuro-surgeon's  life!

Wishing Sister would dismiss her, she handed over the blue vinyl folder which contained the TPR charts, drug prescription and administration records, and spare X-ray request forms.

Satisfying himself that the patient was making good progress, Professor Davy turned his shrewd professional eye on Kate herself. She was much quieter than he'd realised, so tall and slender. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd be doubting the lass was really up to such a tricky assignment. Yet somehow she seemed to be making headway with her obstinate patient. Gratitude would be smoothing her path, of course, and rightly so: not that any of them had considered this possibility when Nurse Wisdom's name was put forward.

'And nice to see
you
looking so much less peaky, m'dear. Marks like sooty thumbprints you had under your pretty eyes the morning after Tom's dreadful accident.' Frank himself had acquainted the neuro-surgeon with all the details surrounding his dramatic arrival at Casualty; he had certainly told of the vital part RGN Kate Wisdom had played.

'Gave us a helluva fright, you did, boyo. It was real touch and go-o-o,' the long Welsh vowels were even more pronounced.

'So you keep reminding me,' murmured Tom with a wry lift of an eyebrow.

Jonathan Reeves took hold of Tom's left hand. He pinched a fingernail and viewed with satisfaction the immediate flush of pink. Sister hovered close by, ready to deal with obstructive clothing or bedding, watching and listening attentively as Mr Reeves carried out his examination.

'Mrs Macdonald has been giving you physiotherapy daily, has she not? There's no swelling of the hand now. How does your arm seem today?'

'Not much pain now.' Tom flexed and contracted muscles and tendons as the physio had instructed. His face was a mask of stubborn determination, the mouth a grim line, eyes narrowed in concentration.

'This still comfortable?' Jonathan Reeves rapped a knuckle on the plaster cast. It gave off an odd chalky sound.

'It's a damn nuisance,' returned his patient. 'Look here, Jon, you've got to be straight with me. What are the possibilities? I've a fair idea of what the complications could be,' he added grimly, 'and I know I'm not out of trouble yet.'

Kate listened to the specialist with absolute concentration. She'd nipped along to the School of Nursing to read up in the library about complicated fractures of the humerus involving damage to adjacent structures, arteries, veins, nerves and muscles. Thrombosis was the obvious and most immediate danger to watch out for. Less serious in the upper arm because the alternative blood supply could take over if a major artery became blocked by a blood clot. In the elbow, however, such a clot could cause death of muscles of the forearm.

And there were other complications to be aware of, as Mr Reeves was reminding them. Major threats to a surgeon's career …

Not while
I,
Kate was telling herself grimly, am nursing this patient. His life is too valuable. I'm observing and recording every detail concerning Mr Galvan's condition. And if anything does go wrong, I'll be yelling for the lot of you!

'With diminished or absent radial pulse,' he was saying, 'coolness and pallor of the skin of the forearm indicating the onset of arterial thrombosis.'

Kate was mentally filing every word, an intent little frown creasing her brow.

Propped up against the pillows, Tom regarded her with interest. So Gertie was none other than
that
Kate Wisdom. He knew all about
that
Kate Wisdom and promised himself that when life got back to normal he would seek her out, this nurse who had played such a part in his personal drama …

As for 'Gertie'. At first he'd feared the usual. Yet another of them with the usual fantasies about romance with a brain surgeon. But underneath the dragon act, he could tell she was a sweet and sensible girl, and he liked to play the grumpy patient just to make the long slow days a bit more bearable.  Besides, considered Tom, heavy-eyed, now he knew who she was, he also knew there was a boyfriend. One of the pathologists had snared her, lucky man.

Dr James Mallory. Frank had filled him in.

Trust Frank. Frank was no fan of Diana's. There he was, poking his nose into that vase of red roses, pulling a face because they didn't smell of anything at all… no scent, no thorns.

Mr Reeves completed his examination and departed for his outpatients' clinic, escorted to the front door by Sister Carter who had sent Nurse Wisdom along to her office to pin up the new off-duty list.

Professor Davy, glad of a chance for a man-to-man chat, checked over the internal soft-tissue injuries and pronounced himself well satisfied with the healing process. Then he settled companionably in the chair by the window, casting a quizzical eye on the great urn of roses ritually watered each morning by Kate.

'I can guess who sent those.'

'Huh,' grunted Tom discouragingly, trying to fold his arms and yet again—infuriatingly—coming up against the rigid plaster imprisoning his left side.

'Has she been to see you?' The question was disingenuous. Frank knew perfectly well Diana couldn't have. He'd received several transatlantic calls, inconsiderately timed to disturb him in the middle of the night.

'She's in Phoenix, Arizona, making a documentary for the next series.' Tom's expression was ironic. 'As you well know, Frank, you old bastard, because Di said she's spoken to you. Says she's worried sick about me.'

Of course she is, the madam! scowled the Welshman, keeping his misgivings to himself. A brilliant and charismatic neuro-surgeon is one thing; a lame duck's quite a different kettle of fish! Sooner our Tom gets that woman out of his hair the better. He ought to settle down with a nice St Crispin's girl. Someone kind and caring. Looks aren't that important; I've always said so.

Out loud he put the craftily attractive suggestion he'd been saving for when the moment was ripe. 'We might let you go home end of next week … so long as nothing untoward happens between now and then.' He examined his short well-scrubbed fingernails, buffed them on his chalk-stripe jacket. 'You'll need some help, mind you. Just for a few weeks till the plaster comes off…Now will you look at that! The rain's stopped and the sun's coming out. That's more like it! Soon be May.'

Tom brightened up. 'What sort of help? You mean a BUPA nurse?'

'Any sort of nurse, as long as she's not already under contract.' Frank waited for Tom to grasp the bait. 'Anyone you had in mind?'

'Not especially. Gertie's not a bad girl, though. Not much to look at, but she has a pleasant manner and gets on with the job.'

'Why'd you call her Gertie?' said Frank, amused by the name.

'Just a joke. You know.'

'If you say so.'

There was a pause. 'She'll be under contract, though.'

'Temporary, I believe. Waiting for a staff job to come up on one of the medical wards. I'll make enquiries. Don't mention anything yet. And a word of advice in your ear, boyo.
Stop calling her Gertie. I can't imagine what started that off.'

Kate was saved from the inquisition to come by Mr Galvan's secretary, Kimberley, who was waiting in the corridor with her dictation pad and the morning's post. As Professor Davy walked out, Kimberley trotted in on confident stilettos. She was pert and blonde and pretty, only nineteen but with a five-star efficiency invaluable to her demanding surgeon boss.

At the nurses' station an agency staff nurse  was reading through a case notes folder. 'You're a dark horse and no mistake,' she exclaimed, eyeing Kate as she walked up to the desk. 'I thought they'd sent a right old frump to sort out Room 27. All of a sudden you look quite different! Pardon my saying so, but you look a load better without those awful glasses.'

She peered more closely. Wisdom had perfect milky skin, and her eyes were naturally dark-lashed, large and clear. If she took a bit of trouble with herself, ditched that unflattering hairdo and emphasised the wide-curved mouth with scarlet lipstick she might hook herself a wealthy husband. Well, why not? It could happen in private hospitals, grateful male patients falling in love with their nurses and offering to 'take you away from all this.'

Marriage had much to recommend it. Sarah stuck out her left hand, admiring the bright new gold band encircling her third finger. Her smile had the glow of deep satisfaction.

The door of Room 27 opened and closed and Kimberley trotted past with a cheery wave and a complicit wink at Kate. Her skirt was tight black leather and her patent court shoes had five-inch heels.

'Look at that! You'd better go and check Mr Galvan's blood pressure. How on earth does that girl keep her balance? Bet she's
tiny
without heels. Me, I can't wear any sort of heel after being in flatties all day. You should just hear my knees creak.'

'Everyone's knees creak - only idiots listen to them,' interrupted an unsympathetic doctor who had overheard this last complaint. 'Now what about this hysterectomy who's having trouble with her waterworks?'

'Ooh yes, my Italian lady, Mrs Graziella Carmichael. Half a mo and I'll find her notes. Here we are. Keeps moaning she can't go.'

'Is she drinking plenty?'

'What do you think, Doctor?' said the nurse cheekily, twisting a curl in front of her left ear.

'Right then, let's go and inform the lady that water always runs downhill.'

Kate found herself alone with a moment's peace. From the kitchen came the sound of Bridget, the auxiliary, singing Raglan Road as she washed the coffee cups. A bowed figure plodded past in slippers and dressing gown, the cord unfastened and dangling near the ground.

'Everything all right, Mr Rau?'

Mr Rau was a physicist from Southampton University. He'd been admitted for investigative surgery following digestive problems. Kate left her post in order to fasten the cord more securely about his lean middle. 'We don't want you tripping and hurting yourself,' she smiled, putting a hand lightly on his stooped woollen shoulder, sensing he was trying to avoid eye contact.

'Anything I can do for you?' she asked the worried man gently.

'I am just walking up and down the corridor, to stretch my legs.' His eyes were moist with fear.

Until the result of the biopsy was known there was little reassurance Kate could offer. She was just wondering if a chat in the quiet of his room would help, when the desk telephone shrilled. 'Would you go to early lunch, please. They're running late over in Theatres and Nurse Maychick's gall bladder won't be back before twelve-thirty.'

'Certainly, Sister,' and there goes my one-to-one with Mr Rau. Kate cupped her chin in her hand and thought for a moment… unless I can fit something in this afternoon. Tom's going to be raving mad over the Gertie thing. If I can stay out of his room for the rest of my shift, it'll give him time to calm down overnight. I'm going to have to think up some excuse for claiming to be a dragon called Gertie. Professor, you have nicely dropped me in it!

Kate knew it was unlikely she'd see James today: he tended to eat late, if at all. Especially if it meant interrupting his colo-rectal research project. If anyone could do with a dose of TLC it was Dr James Mallory. He worked so  hard, ate irregularly … she must give him time to think of it for himself: that a wife and children were the next stop to happiness.

'Tender loving care
,' she repeated with a wry smile. 'Just what did Professor Davy write on those case notes, I wonder? I'll just take a quick look …

And there it was, scribbled in pencil and just waiting to be rubbed out at the first opportunity. 'TLC—to be administered according to the wisdom of Kate.' Followed by a sentence that snatched at Kate's breath and caused her shoulders to heave in agitation as she slammed the notes back into their folder … Not likely! Not even if they fetch out the thumbscrews, not never, not no-how.
No way!

I
t was almost time to go off duty but Kate was reluctant to leave him. Something was worrying her …

She laid cool fingers on Mr Galvan's wrist.

'You've been avoiding me, Gertie,' he said with a sly upward glance.

The pulse was rapid. 'You've had one visitor after another so I've kept out of the way. All afternoon it's gone on. People coming in and out and you without a moment's rest.'

She released his wrist. Filled the numbers in on the charts, wrote  up her observation. That unnatural glitter in his eyes, the raised pulse. Something was going on. She concealed her fears beneath a brisk tone. 'Just look at all this work your secretary's brought along. Why can't you relax with a book or watch television like the other patients. I don't believe you've even switched that set on.'