Her Very Special Boss - Anne Fraser Mills & Boon Medical

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by the hospital manager. ‘You can’t keep working night and day, Greg,’ he had said. ‘This hospital should have twelve doctors, not the four we have. We need help, at least your colleagues do, and it’s not as if we’re overrun with applications to come and work here. You might be able to work all the hours God sends, but your colleagues need a break. If they don’t get some time off, we could lose them.’

      There was no denying his argument, but Greg knew to his cost that an inexperienced doctor could be worse than no doctor at all. With her delicate features and slim build, Kirsty looked as if she had just come out of medical school, although he knew that she was twenty-five. The last thing he needed was to babysit some inexperienced doctor who thought spending a few months in a rural hospital in Africa would be fun or, worse, a good way of practising newly acquired medical skills. He’d had enough of those types in the past and they had proved more of a hindrance than a help. Most of them had only stayed a short while. Long enough to realise that the incredibly long hours and hard work was too much.

      He shook his head in frustration. He had been tempted to take Kirsty up on her offer of help earlier. Perhaps working through the night in the primitive and gruelling conditions would have been enough to see her immediate return to the UK. But the temptation had been fleeting. It wouldn’t be in the best interests of the patients to have an exhausted and inexperienced doctor working on them. Still, he had to admit she had done well at the crash scene. Apart from that initial hesitation she had worked calmly and efficiently. He knew that more than one patient had reason to be glad she had been there. It didn’t help that something in those luminescent green eyes had sparked feelings that he thought had gone for ever. No, it was best all round if she could be made to see that Africa wasn’t for her.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE sun streaming into her room woke Kirsty. Anxious that she’d overslept, she glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe it wasn’t quite six yet. She stretched, breathing in the unfamiliar but heady scents that drifted in from her open window. Last night, one of the kitchen staff had escorted her to her accommodation after serving her some mashed pumpkin and roast beef. The rest of the staff had all been busy with the aftermath of the accident, so it had been a solitary supper for Kirsty.

      Although she had been a little disappointed not to meet and work alongside her new colleagues, part of her had been relieved to get the opportunity of a much-needed early night. She had barely managed to stay awake long enough to shower the blood, sweat and dust away, before collapsing into bed. She had expected to fall asleep the moment her head had hit the pillow, but instead had found herself replaying the events of the day and her introduction to the strangeness of this wild, untamed patch of Africa and its people, including the enigmatic Dr Greg du Toit. Although she couldn’t say her new boss had been unwelcoming, she’d sensed he wasn’t altogether happy to have her there. She had tossed and turned, wondering if she had made the right decision to come to work in this hospital deep in rural Africa. Would she cope? Everything seemed much more basic than she had imagined. But she’d had to get away. Put as much distance between herself and her memories as possible. She wanted—needed—to start afresh make a new life for herself. When at last she had fallen asleep, it had been to dream of Robbie. She had woken up to find tears drying on her cheeks.

      But Kirsty was determined that today would be the beginning of her new life. Curious about her new home, she jumped out of bed. There was a set of scrubs on the rickety chair in the corner of the room. They hadn’t been there the night before. Greg must have asked someone to bring them over. She was surprised that he had remembered, with so much going on.

      The accommodation certainly wasn’t lavish but, then, Kirsty hadn’t expected it to be. Nevertheless she appreciated the gleaming polished earthen floors smelling faintly of lavender, cool and smooth under her bare feet. And although the furniture was sparse, she knew that with a few touches she could make her new home more appealing.

      The house was at least half a century old, with a hodgepodge of additions over time to what must have been the original structure—a circular room from which a tiny scullery, her bedroom and a spartan bathroom led off at various angles, each serving to create interesting nooks and crannies.

      The circular room—or rondavel as it was traditionally known—was divided down the middle by a freestanding granite unit that separated the living-room area from the kitchen. On closer inspection Kirsty realised it must have been an autopsy slab from bygone times. However, its antiquated, well-scrubbed appearance amused rather than repulsed her.

      While the kettle boiled, she searched fruitlessly for something to eat. In hindsight, she remembered being told that staff meals were served daily in the dining room. If she preferred to prepare meals for herself, she’d have to do her own grocery shopping. Hell, there wasn’t even tea or milk! Dispirited, she flicked the kettle off. Breakfast in the staff dining room it had to be!

      She took a quick shower, pleased to find that while the furniture and fittings might be sparse, there was a plentiful supply of steaming hot water. However, she remembered that Africa often suffered severe water shortages and limited her shower to the minimum amount of time needed to soap her body and rinse the last of the dust from her long auburn hair.

      She wasn’t expected on duty until the following day but she was eager to see how the victims of yesterday’s accident were faring so she dressed quickly in the scrubs, which were a surprisingly good fit. She wondered if Greg had selected them himself—if he had, he had an accurate idea of her size.

      Looking around for a socket for her hairdryer, she was dismayed to find that although there were a few, none fitted her UK plug. Mildly put out, she towel dried it instead, before plaiting it into a thick braid. She would simply have to learn to adapt as best she could to her new environment. After all, she thought with some longing, she was unlikely to find all the conveniences of her home city several hours’ drive into the African bush. Nevertheless, she thought with exasperation, there were some things she couldn’t possibly be expected to do without, and a hairdryer was one of them!

      Following the footpath that led from her cottage, she entered the rear of the hospital where most of the wards were situated on different sides of a long passageway. She stepped into the first room on her right through double swing doors and was greeted warmly by a smiling Sister Ngoba, the night sister whom she’d met the previous evening and who was now busy writing up reports before handing over to the day staff. As Kirsty’s eyes roamed the length of the ward, she was surprised to see a familiar head bent over the bed of a female patient whose leg was in traction. When he looked up she could see the stubble darkening his jaw and the fatigue shadowing his eyes.

      ‘Kirsty?’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘You don’t need to be on duty until tomorrow. Everyone needs a day to settle in.’

      ‘I know. I wanted to check up on how our patients from the accident yesterday were doing. And I’m longing to get started. I don’t need a day off. Anyway, you’re on duty,’ she challenged.

      He smiled tiredly. ‘But I’m meant to be on duty.’

      ‘You haven’t been up all night, have you?’

      ‘Almost, but not quite,’ he said, wryly thinking that the hour’s sleep he’d managed to get hadn’t been nearly enough.

      ‘Thank you for your help yesterday, by the way, and a belated welcome to the team. You’ll meet everyone later.’

      ‘I look forward to that.’ She paused to smile hello at the patient Greg had been examining. It was the young woman whose tibia and fibula had been badly crushed by the overturned minibus. Lydia, her eyes cloudy with painkillers, managed a weak smile in return, before closing her eyes.

      ‘How’s our patient?’ Kirsty asked quietly.

      ‘I think we’ve managed to save her leg. Once I’m sure she’s stable, I’ll arrange to send her to one of the hospitals in the city. They have better equipment than we do, as well as access to physio. For cases like this we patch them up, stabilise them and then send them on.’ He smiled down at the girl and said something to her that Kirsty couldn’t understand.

      ‘You

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