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sure—and say what? She almost laughed. ‘Not really—I’m still trying to swallow the rest of my feet,’ she confessed ruefully.

      He chuckled, a wickedly delicious little chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. She set her coffee down before she slopped it all and met his eyes defiantly.

      ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

      He smiled slowly. ‘Such as?’

      ‘Well—I don’t know—anything. “I’m your new boss” would have done nicely. You just stood there and made a complete fool of me—’

      He shook his head. ‘Oh, no, Irish, you did that all by yourself.’

      She blushed again. ‘You could have said something,’ she repeated stubbornly.

      ‘Yes, I could, you’re quite right. It was unkind of me. I apologise.’

      She shot him a keen look, quite sure he was laughing at her, but his face was sober and his eyes were gentle now.

      ‘You didn’t look like a consultant.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘You should have said—’

      ‘I should. You didn’t really give me much chance—’

      ‘Rubbish! You had every opportunity!’

      He shrugged and grinned. ‘I suppose so, but it just seemed like a bit of harmless fun—and you know, Irish, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.’

      She was speechless.

      The phone rang, and he reached out a long arm and hooked it up. ‘Lawrence.’

      He listened for a moment, a slow smile spreading over his face, and then held the phone out to her.

      ‘Security for you—something about a motorbike in the car park …’

      Kathleen supposed there was some comfort to be gained from knowing that nobody had ever died of humiliation. Doubtless in later years she would be glad of that, but for now she was too embarrassed to care.

      It wouldn’t have been so bad, of course, if it had only been him, but there was that second-year nurse whom she had accused of loitering with him in the corridor—that was going to take some fancy footwork to get out of without loss of face. Oh, well, at least she wasn’t Japanese. Good job too, as there wasn’t a handy sword to fall on. She didn’t somehow think a stitch cutter would do the trick quite so well!

      In the end she screwed up her courage, took the girl into her office and apologised. ‘I made a mistake,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t realise who he was, and with the security problems hospitals have been having recently, you can’t be too careful.’

      The nurse smiled. ‘I didn’t know who he was, either, but he asked me where he could find you, and I told him I didn’t know, and he said “Are you new too?” and then you arrived and …’ She trailed to a halt. ‘He didn’t look—well—like a consultant, did he?’

      Bless her, Kath thought. ‘No, Nurse, he didn’t, but he is.’ She glanced at her name badge. ‘Amy, have you done any work on Surgical?’

      She nodded. ‘I did some time with Sister Lovejoy last year, and I’ve done some orthopaedics.’

      ‘And how did you get on?’

      She nibbled her bottom lip. ‘OK. I had a bit of a problem with Mr Hamilton when he first arrived—I did something rather stupid and he was furious, but the patient was OK and he was great after that. Sister Lovejoy was ever so kind to me over it.’

      Kathleen groaned inwardly. That was all she needed, a nurse who made mistakes.

      ‘Well, Amy, if you aren’t sure about anything, you ask, OK? We can’t afford to make mistakes down here. I think you’d better work with me for the next few days, or if I’m not here, then with one of my staff nurses. Right. Do you know what triage is?’

      ‘Um—is that putting patients in order of priority as they come in so that you don’t leave people to bleed to death because they’re at the end of the queue?’

      Kathleen winced and grinned. ‘Sort of. You’re on the right lines. It really comes into its own when there’s a big emergency involving lots of people. Then the triage nurse is perhaps the most important member of the team. It’s a tremendous responsibility, and challenges all your skills and training, but it also depends a lot on gut instinct. OK, now we’re going to go and have a look in the waiting-room and at the notes, and do a bit of triage there. If they’re all on a par, we take them on a first come, first served basis. Anyone with a suspected heart condition or serious bleeding or a major fracture or head injury comes first, though, and every time an ambulance brings someone, they get seen immediately in the trolley area.’

      She took Amy down the corridor. ‘Here we have the cubicles for the walking wounded or minor cases, then the trolley area for the major cases, and then the resus. room for the crisis cases. Then down here we have a couple of day beds for patients who need to rest under observation for the day following treatment but who don’t really justify admission, and then over here we’ve got the two theatres for major suturing and cleaning up, and then down there at the end the X-ray and plaster rooms.’

      Amy nodded, her eyes like saucers, and Kathleen remembered the first time she had worked in A and E.

      ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I’ll look after you.’

      They checked the few patients in the waiting-room, and Kathleen got Amy to sort them into priority, talking through the decision-making process as she did so.

      ‘Fine,’ she said when Amy had finished. ‘No problems there. But don’t worry, you wouldn’t be asked to do it alone yet. The triage nurse is always qualified and experienced, but it doesn’t hurt you to see how it’s done.’

      It was, in fact, a ridiculously quiet day with a steady trickle of bits and pieces, an ideal day to find one’s feet.

      Unfortunately it meant that there wasn’t enough for the consultant to do to keep him out of her way, and every time she turned round she almost fell over him.

      ‘Are you checking up on me?’ she demanded half way through the afternoon.

      ‘Now, Irish, you know better than that,’ he said with a cheeky grin, and left her alone for a few minutes.

      Then there was a call on the red phone.

      ‘OK,’ Kathleen said. ‘We’ve got someone coming in on a blue light, a young man who’s fallen under a train. Could be an attempted suicide, we don’t know. Anyway, there’s considerable loss of blood, massive lower limb and pelvic damage and some chest injuries. We’ll need plasma expander, and samples immediately for cross matching. Better have some O neg. sent up for immediate use as well. Right, let’s move.’

      They prepared the resus. room, and when all was ready they informed the patients still waiting that they might have a slight delay due to an emergency that was being brought in. There were the usual grumbles, but they faded instantly as the ambulance backed up to the entrance, doors already opening.

      He was screaming, the high-pitched, nerve-grating scream of agony that always turned Kathleen’s blood to stone, and the waiting-room fell into shocked silence.

      They wheeled him rapidly into Resus., Kathleen snapping out instructions right, left and centre, but as they peeled back the blanket to examine him, even Kathleen after all the years she had been working in A and E was shocked at the extent of his injuries. Both his legs were severed completely, the right one mid-thigh, the left up at the hip. His head was cut and bleeding, and his jacket was torn and damaged, indicating possible chest injuries. His right arm was also lying at a funny angle and was probably dislocated or fractured.

      Amy Winship took one look at him and disappeared quietly through the door, and Ben Bradshaw winced. Only Jack Lawrence appeared quite unmoved, glancing dispassionately

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