LITMIR.BIZ

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trained for after all.’

      The reward of a smile was encouraging but David was uncomfortably aware of the reverberation of a treadmill gaining speed next door. When Sean Findlay entered the office it also felt distinctly crowded. The young registrar dumped a pile of case notes onto the second desk and vanished with a cheerful grin. The sound of the treadmill increased. David glanced out of the small window and found he could see directly into a side room of one of the cardiology wards. Mrs Judd was standing at the window. Divested of her candlewick bedspread, she was now wearing an unfortunately diaphanous nightgown. Lisa had followed her gaze.

      ‘Just as well you weren’t given this office,’ she commented lightly. ‘It wouldn’t do to provide a surgeon with such blatant distractions.’

      Something about her inflection made David’s gaze transfer swiftly. ‘You’ve got something against surgeons?’

      ‘Nothing personal.’ Lisa’s smile looked mechanical. ‘I’m sure you get a lot of job satisfaction.’ She toyed with the rose she was still holding.

      David leaned his back against the windowframe. So this was what the attitude was all about. He smiled encouragingly. ‘What’s so wrong with being a surgeon?’

      ‘Oh, there’s nothing wrong. Quite the opposite.’ Lisa’s eyebrows moved up expressively. ‘A surgeon is the best thing to be. Ask any patient. Wait for that awed gaze when they know they’re going to be referred. They’re going to see the real thing.’ Her chuckle was genuine enough. ‘God holding a knife. A chance of a real cure.’

      David held onto his smile with increasing difficulty. ‘OK, so it’s a bit more glamourous. That’s not my fault.’

      ‘More glamourous, more important, more skilled and more highly paid. A hell of a lot more highly paid.’

      ‘Ah! Now we get down to it.’ David’s smile was forgotten. ‘You’re jealous!’ David felt a flash of annoyance at her belligerent attitude and his control slipped significantly. ‘So what stopped you becoming a surgeon, then? Course too tough?’

      ‘Typical!’ It was a wonder the rose didn’t wilt under the heat suddenly generated around it. ‘You’re not good enough to be a cardiac surgeon so you take the easy route and become a cardiologist. Exactly the attitude from most surgeons and more than most of the general public. What you—and they—fail to appreciate is that you couldn’t function without us.’

      ‘Really?’ David’s anger had been overidden by a very different emotion. He had never been tempted to try the line that a woman looked beautiful when she was angry but, then, he wasn’t in the habit of making women angry. Passionately angry, judging by the play of expression before him now. The rose was tossed aside.

      ’Really.’ It was a snap like a steel trap. ‘Who diagnoses these patients? Keeps them alive and makes the decision about whether surgery is even necessary?’

      David couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her guard had really slipped now. He had never seen a face quite so alive. ‘I think we might have a little input into that one,’ he suggested evenly. Lisa ignored him.

      ‘Who continues the care after the surgery? They’re our patients from go to whoa. Sure, we might need the technical assistance with a bit of replumbing in the interim but that’s as far as it goes. We create your workload and we pick up the pieces afterwards. And we carry the can for any less than successful interventions. Envious! Listen, I know who the real doctors are.’

      The end of the tirade coincided with the abrupt termination of the neighbouring exercise test. The silence was startling. David was still staring at Lisa. He had been watching her mouth with fascination, the soft, mobile lips now set into an uncompromising line. He met her eyes, disappointed to find that the fire had been extinguished. David raised an eyebrow eloquently but said nothing. The blush he saw appearing was unexpected.

      ‘Sorry.’ She looked away and her voice dropped to a mutter. ‘I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

      ‘Take what out?’ David’s curiosity was aroused. Perhaps there was more going on than an irrational professional intolerance.

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘It seems to matter quite a lot.’ David tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘If I’m stepping into some political minefield, I’d prefer to get some idea of whose toes I should avoid treading on. Apart from those I’ve irreparably damaged already.’

      ‘Oh ? Like whose?’

      ‘Yours. You weren’t exactly happy at being evicted from your office—at least not by a surgeon.’

      ‘I don’t give a damn about the office. I knew it was only a temporary luxury. It wasn’t that I was…’ She shook her head and then pushed a stray curl back from her face. ‘Never mind. Don’t concern yourself about my toes, David. They’re indestructible.’ The smile was apologetic, embarrassed even, and David was happy to return it despite the attack to which his specialty had been subjected.

      ‘Like your heart, yes?’

      ‘You got it.’ Lisa nodded, reaching for the phone as her beeper sounded. The silence was brief. ‘What’s the blood pressure now? OK, stop the TPA infusion. I’m on my way.’

      She was gone. David moved slowly as he followed her example. Without her physical presence he found himself thinking more about exactly what she’d said. So, he was a glorified plumber, was he? Nothing personal, though. Strangely enough, the attack hadn’t felt personal at the time, but David found a new wariness nibble at the edge of his confidence. If that was the general attitude of the whole cardiology department then the obstacle to gaining respect might be a much bigger hurdle than simply exorcising any rumours about his past.

      Thank goodness for a friendly face. It was late that afternoon that David encountered a welcome he’d been waiting for. It came at the end of what now seemed like a very long day.

      ‘Mike! Where the hell have you been hiding?’

      ‘Cath lab all morning. Then we had an emergency angioplasty this afternoon. Some of us have to earn a living, mate.’

      David shook his head, confident that Lisa Kennedy’s opinion of surgeons was not being reinforced from this quarter. ‘It’s good to see you, mate. You’ve been the world’s worst correspondent.’

      Michael Foster grasped the outstretched hand and then slapped David on the shoulder. ‘Look who’s talking! We must have about five years to catch up on. God, it’s good to see you, Dave.’

      ‘Likewise. Got time for a coffee?’

      ‘I’ll make time. What’s the point in being a consultant if you can’t manage that?’

      ‘I thought you’d be head of the cardiology department by now.’

      ‘Give me time. I’ve had a rough couple of years.’

      ‘Oh?’ David’s face was concerned as he followed his friend into the small staffroom. ‘What’s happened, Mike?’

      ‘Anne and I split up six months ago. Things were pretty difficult for a long time before that.’ Mike spooned coffee into the mugs but glanced up to catch David’s expression. He laughed ruefully. ‘You were right all along, mate. Marriage is the quickest way to ruin a good relationship.’ He handed David a steaming mug. ‘I should have listened to that lecture you gave me. I just wish you hadn’t waited until my stag night.’

      David smiled but was disturbed by the shadows in Mike’s eyes. He tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘You should have listened,’ he said sternly. ‘Like I always said, ‘‘Why buy a book when you’ve got a whole library to choose from?’’’

      The incredulous snort from behind David made his head turn sharply. In his concern for Mike he had managed to walk right past the figure curled into the armchair beside the door. Mike followed his glance.

      ‘Have you met my registrar, Dave?

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