LITMIR.BIZ

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the Belfield Infirmary two years ago as the new consultant in charge of the anaesthetics department. He’d also arrived with a reputation as a heartbreaker but as Nell had never for one second imagined he’d be interested in a girl who was five feet nine, with a figure even her best friends described as ‘generous’, she’d treated him casually, dismissively, only to be completely stunned when he’d asked her out.

      I’ll always be very fond of you, Nell, but it’s better for us both to know now that it would never have worked out than for us to have got married and been unhappy.

      Yes, but better for who, Brian? she wondered, feeling tears prick at the backs of her eyes.

      She was the one who was going to have to tell everybody at the Belfield their engagement was off. She was the one who would have to endure the false sympathy, the pitying looks, the whispered comments of how they’d all known it wouldn’t last, not a girl like her with a man like Brian, while he was safe in New York.

      ‘Nell, are you OK?’

      A slight frown was creasing Fiona’s forehead and Nell forced her bright and chirpy smile back into place.

      ‘Fine, absolutely fine,’ she said, getting briskly to her feet. ‘I’d better take these results along to Jonah and Bea. They’ve been stressing about them all morning.’

      ‘It must be odd, watching someone else doing your old ward sister’s job,’ Fiona said, as she followed Nell out of her small office.

      ‘It is,’ Nell admitted, ‘but Bea’s settled in really well even if she will persist in calling me Sister Sutherland instead of Nell.’

      ‘Apparently, the ward manager of her last NICU was a real stickler for protocol.’

      ‘Then her last ward manager needed to get a life,’ Nell declared. ‘My main concern is the smooth running of the unit, not whether people call me by my surname or my first name.’

      Fiona laughed. ‘Yes, but, then, you’ve never been big on attitude, have you?’

      She hadn’t, and maybe that had been her mistake. Maybe if she’d insisted on going to New York with Brian, instead of meekly accepting his decision that she should stay in Scotland, none of this would have happened.

      ‘It would be crazy for us both to uproot ourselves from the Belfield Infirmary for just a year,’ he’d said. ‘I’m only going because it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to see how an anaesthetics department works in the States. I know we’ll miss one another but I’ll be back in Glasgow before you know it.’

      Except now he wouldn’t. He would be staying in New York with Candy. Candy who was probably a petite and perfect size six, with gleaming white teeth and the kind of tumbling blonde hair that wouldn’t look out of place in a shampoo commercial.

      ‘Nell, are you sure you’re OK?’

      Fiona’s eyes were curious now, speculative, and Nell hitched her smile up so high it was a wonder her face didn’t crack.

      ‘I’ve just got a bad attack of Monday morning winter blues, that’s all.’

      ‘Tell me about it,’ Fiona said with feeling. ‘I hate October. It’s such a depressing, absolutely nothing sort of a month, isn’t it? I wish it was Christmas. It will be George’s first, you know.’

      And, as the secretary babbled on about her baby son, Nell made polite noises and scarcely heard her.

      Where had it all gone wrong? How had it all gone wrong? She loved Brian. She’d thought he loved her. He’d said he did. He’d even said he loved her curves, but he’d also never objected when she’d told him she was going on yet another diet. Maybe if she’d stuck to the diets. Maybe if she hadn’t confessed to him that her blonde highlights were fake and she was actually a dull and mousy brown underneath. Maybe if…

      ‘Is that Tommy Moffat’s blood test results?’

      Jonah Washington was walking down the corridor towards them and, as Fiona hurried back to her office, Nell handed him the results and waited for the explosion to come.

      It did.

      ‘If he’s not anaemic, or caught another infection, then what the hell’s wrong with him?’ Jonah exclaimed, dragging his fingers through his straight brown hair, making it look even more unruly than usual. ‘I know he was twelve weeks premature, but preemies normally gain weight quite quickly once we’ve stabilised them and yet his weight gain in the two weeks he’s been in NICU has been minuscule.’

      ‘At least he is putting on weight,’ Nell declared. ‘I know it’s not been much, but eating is one of the most energy-consuming processes for any newborn and preemie’s digestive tracts are often just not sufficiently developed to handle food even if it’s through an IV line.’

      ‘Bea wonders if he could have necrotising enterocolitis,’ Jonah said as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘I know there’s no sign of tension in his stomach or blood in his bowels—’

      ‘Jonah, if Tommy had any damage to his intestines, it would have shown up on the X-rays,’ Nell interrupted gently.

      ‘Yes, but what if the X-ray equipment is faulty?’

      ‘It’s highly unlikely.’

      ‘But what if it is?’

      ‘Jonah.’

      He stared at her silently for a moment, then his lips quirked. ‘I’m overreacting, aren’t I?’

      ‘Just a bit,’ she said, and he laughed.

      ‘Good old Nell. What would I do without you to keep me grounded?’

      Good old Nell. That was how everybody saw her. Good old Nell, always game for everything, when in reality she was sometimes so nervous at social events that she felt physically sick. Good old Nell, who made jokes about her height and her weight but only to prevent other people making them first. How in the world was she ever going to get Brian back? And she did want him back. Desperately.

      ‘Nell, is there something wrong?’ Jonah said, his brown eyes suddenly concerned, and she managed a shaky laugh.

      ‘You’re the second person to ask me that this morning, and I’m fine. Just suffering from a bad attack of ward manager’s paperwork blues.’

      ‘You’re sure that’s all it is?’ he pressed, and she felt a betraying flush of colour creep across her cheeks.

      Hellfire and damnation. Jonah always seemed to sense when something was wrong with her, but she didn’t want to tell him about Brian. Not yet, at any rate. Not when she was so perilously close to tears.

      ‘Of course I’m sure,’ she insisted. ‘You’ve seen my office, Jonah. I’m drowning under forms and requisition sheets in there.’

      For a moment she didn’t think he believed her, then, to her relief, he nodded.

      ‘Snap. I always used to wonder why Gabriel was first into the unit and last to leave. Now I know.’

      ‘But you’re enjoying being temporary master of all you survey,’ she said, and he grinned.

      ‘I think everyone has a little bit of the dictator in them.’

      ‘You, a dictator?’ She laughed. ‘Jonah, you’re as soft as butter.’

      ‘Says the girl who’s a complete pushover,’ he countered, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she kept her smile in place.

      ‘Do you want me to set up Tommy’s tests again?’ she said, deliberately changing the subject.

      ‘I’d feel happier if we did,’ he admitted. ‘I know you think I’m panicking needlessly…’

      ‘But your gut instinct says something’s wrong,’ she finished for him. ‘OK, I’ll reschedule the tests, but I’ll bet you a fiver he’s simply a slow developer.’

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