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paediatric surgical unit and fell in love.

      Well, she’d needed something good to happen after the shock she’d received down in her own department.

      She’d barely stuck her head inside the door when Mr Breyley’s secretary had beckoned her into the office.

      ‘I’m sorry he’s not here to tell you about it himself, Dr Livingston,’ the rather austere-looking woman had said with a slightly frazzled glance around at the haphazard piles of paper littering her normally pristine desk. Then she had unbent enough to murmur, confidentially, ‘He and his wife flew out to New Zealand this morning. Their first grandchild is on the way. He was diagnosed with transposition of the great arteries in utero and is arriving prematurely, so they wanted to be there for their daughter…at least, until the corrective surgery’s over and done with.’

      ‘Completely understandable,’ Emily had agreed, even as panic had started to set in. Was she about to lose her job? With Mr Breyley on the other side of the world, she had lost her mentor and tutor. The hospital would be unlikely to be able to find someone of his calibre available at short notice.

      Then there was the fact that it hadn’t only been the job that had brought her back to Penhally. Of course, it had been a terrific step up on her career path, and the fact that it had been within easy travelling distance of Beabea had been a bonus. But now that her grandmother’s condition was rapidly worsening and now she’d transferred to the hospice, the last thing Emily wanted was to have to move away, perhaps to the other end of the country for a comparable post.

      She just couldn’t do that. She needed to be here, in the hospital closest to Penhally, so that she could spend as much of these last precious days with her grandmother as she could. Also, there was the fact that transferring to another hospital at short notice, and so soon after starting a placement, could look bad on her CV. Anyway, there was no guarantee that she would find a comparable post either.

      With the likelihood that her perfect job was going to vanish into thin air, there were other worries to be considered, too.

      It was highly unlikely that the hospital would be willing to keep paying her salary until they appointed a new surgical consultant to take her on and, no matter how much she wanted to spend time with Beabea, she couldn’t afford to take an expensive break, either financially or professionally.

      But she had so little time left to be with her grandmother and didn’t want to waste any of it travelling endless hours to and fro.

      ‘However,’ the senior consultant’s secretary continued, breaking into her endlessly circling thoughts, suddenly all efficiency, ‘before he left, Mr Breyley had another look at the application forms you sent in when you applied for the post on his firm. He’d remembered that you’d noted an interest in the field of paediatric orthopaedics as well, so he took your references to have a word with Mr Khalil about the situation. Anyway, he has persuaded Mr Khalil to let you join his team pro tem, to see whether you fit in.’

      Emily blinked a bit at that. It was amazing that Mr Breyley had found time to consider her situation when he must have been desperate to start his journey to New Zealand, but she really wasn’t certain that she liked the sound of his arrangements for her. It almost made her sound like some substandard piece of equipment being dumped on an unwilling recipient.

      Mr Breyley was an acknowledged expert in his field and had thought her good enough to join his team. And considering the fact that her record throughout her training had been second to none, it was almost an insult that this Mr Khalil had needed to be persuaded to take her on, even temporarily.

      ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more specific,’ the harried secretary continued, apparently oblivious to Emily’s chagrin at being treated as an unwanted parcel, ‘but Mr Khalil said to tell you that he’d either be in his office or in Paediatric Intensive Care.’

      So here she was, on a mission to find Mr Khalil and see if she could discover why he thought his requirements so much higher than Mr Breyley’s when he was choosing new team members.

      She’d started off her search at his office and found a stunningly beautiful woman with an intriguing accent manning the desk.

      ‘He is not available at the moment, and he will be starting his surgical list at ten this morning,’ she informed Emily coolly, as kohl-lined dark eyes flicked dismissively over her from head to toe.

      Emily stifled a wry grin. It was obvious that her simple summer cotton clothes had been found seriously wanting in the elegance stakes.

      Well, that was just too bad. She’d long ago decided that spending half of her time in baggy surgical scrubs, with something that looked like a pair of paper knickers on her head, meant that there wasn’t a lot of point in trying to impress her colleagues with anything other than her medical capabilities.

      ‘My name is Dr Livingston,’ she informed her quietly. ‘I’m the new member of Mr Khalil’s team and need to know where to find him as soon as possible.’

      ‘But…you’re a woman!’ she exclaimed, and grabbed for some paperwork on the top of her immaculately tidy desk. ‘We are expecting a Dr Emil Livingston, and Emil is a man’s name, no?’

      ‘Emil is a man’s name, yes,’ Emily agreed, almost giggling when she found herself mimicking the woman’s speech patterns. There was just something about these effortlessly flawless women that rubbed her up the wrong way, probably the fact that she would have to starve herself for weeks…months…to wear anything like the size zero designer clothes this secretary was wearing, in spite of the fact that she tried to force herself to go for a run each day. ‘But my name is Emily, with a “y”, but without the corresponding chromosome.’

      ‘Excuse me?’

      Emily stifled a sigh as she glanced at her watch, forgoing any effort at an explanation of her attempt at humour.

      ‘If you could just tell me where I can find Mr Khalil, I would be very grateful.’ It wouldn’t do anything to impress her new boss if she was any later reporting for work, and she really needed to impress him if he was going to allow her to join his team properly until Mr Breyley returned from New Zealand. For Beabea’s sake, she really needed this job.

      ‘He will be up in PICU with the Hananis…the parents of a child who will have surgery this morning. I will ring him to tell him you are coming.’

      ‘Don’t bother interrupting him while he’s talking,’ Emily said quickly, loath to draw any extra attention to her tardiness. ‘I’ll find him easily enough when I get there.’

      Except she hadn’t found him yet.

      She’d run up several flights of steps, right to the top of the hospital where the recently expanded and refurbished PICU was situated just round the corner from the brand-new surgery suite she’d caught a glimpse of when she’d come for her interview.

      She’d had to knock for admittance to the ward, not privy to the code to unlock the door yet.

      ‘I’m Dr Livingston, the new member of Mr Khalil’s team,’ she announced, hoping she didn’t sound too winded, but taking the stairs instead of the lift was one of the habits she’d had to adopt if she was to stand a hope of keeping her weight under control.

      ‘Welcome!’ the staff nurse said with a smile as she swung the door wide. ‘We had no idea we were going to be getting a woman on one of our paediatric surgical teams. I’m Jenna Stanbury.’

      She, at least, had looked pleased to see her, Emily noted as she was led into the unit. Several heads looked up from what they were doing and smiled vaguely in her direction.

      ‘I’m afraid that Tamsin…Sister Rush…has shut herself in her office with strict instructions only to be disturbed in case of fire or flood while she fights with a mountain of paperwork,’ Jenna said apologetically.

      ‘Actually, I’ve been trying

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