Children's Doctor, Society Bride. Joanna Neil
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She covered the infant with the sheet once more. She wanted to soothe Millie and let her know that she would take care of her, but first they had to find out what was causing the problem.
‘There certainly seems to be some tenderness in her tummy now,’ she told the mother. ‘We’ve taken blood tests and done a chest X-ray, but we still don’t have sufficient information at the moment to be able to make a correct diagnosis. There is some sign that there is pressure at the base of her left lung, but there could be a number of reasons for that.’
‘Do you think it’s an infection of some sort?’
‘I don’t think so. She’s not particularly feverish, and there are no indications of wheezing to point in that direction, but we’ll know more on that score once we get the results back from the lab. In the meantime, I’m going to order some more tests, including an abdominal X-ray so that we can get a better idea of what’s going on. She’ll be given a barium drink to swallow so that everything will show up on the X-ray as the fluid passes through her intestines. The procedure won’t cause her any pain but it will help us to discover if there’s anything amiss.’
Mrs Watson still looked anxious and Louise comforted her, saying, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find out what’s causing the trouble.’
They spoke for a little while longer, and then Louise gave Millie an encouraging smile in the hope that it would help to reassure her. There was still no reaction from the little girl. The child was miserable, clearly too ill to respond.
Louise started to write out the test forms for the nurse in attendance.
‘I’ll leave that with you, Jenny, if I may?’ she told the nurse. ‘Will you let me know the results when they come through? I’ll be in a meeting with management, but you can bleep me.’
Jenny nodded. ‘I will.’ She was a reliable young woman, with fair hair swept back into a ponytail and blue eyes that missed nothing. Louise knew that she was leaving the child in good hands.
To the mother, Louise added, ‘If you have any questions, just ask our nurse here. She’ll be able to tell you anything that you want to know.’
‘Thank you.’
A moment or two later, Louise was ready to make her way to the top floor room where management was holding its meeting. She stopped off in the doctors’ lounge to pull a brush through her long hair, satisfied that it gleamed with health and was pinned back satisfactorily with a couple of clips. She added a light touch of lipstick to her mouth, and then smoothed down her skirt and checked that her cotton top was neat beneath the light jacket she was wearing. The jacket nipped in at the waist, making the most of her slender form, and she contented herself with making a last adjustment to the collar before she felt confident that she looked all right.
A few minutes later, she tapped on the door of the conference room and took a deep breath to steady herself before walking in.
‘Ah, Dr Bridgford, do come in.’ The chief executive of the hospital Trust board rose from his seat to greet her. ‘I’m so glad that you’ve managed to find time to come and join us. We do value your input.’
She acknowledged him in a friendly enough manner, although inwardly she absorbed his remarks with a fair degree of cynicism. Since he was the one who had instigated the call for closure, she wasn’t about to go overboard with enthusiasm for anything he had to say, was she?
‘I think you know most of the people here, don’t you?’ the chief went on, waving a hand around the room in the direction of the assembled management team.
‘I believe so,’ she agreed, glancing briefly at the men and women who were seated around the large rectangular table. Some were other executives from around the region, but there were a number of people who she had been working with in this hospital for a few years now. For the most part they were much like herself, doctors or managers who were doing the best job they could, trying to cope in difficult circumstances.
‘Please, do come and sit down,’ Mr Jeffries urged her. ‘We were just about to go over the options for change.’
She glanced to where a seat had been left empty for her and started forward, but as her glance skimmed the people on either side of that chair she came to an abrupt halt, the breath snagging in her lungs. There was one man there who surely didn’t belong amongst this collection of medical chiefs.
James Ashleigh flicked a glance over her, his grey gaze wandering along the length of her shapely legs to the tips of her fashionably designed shoes, and back again to rest thoughtfully on the oval of her face. She faltered momentarily.
Mr Jeffries must have noticed her hesitation because he said helpfully, ‘Ah, of course you won’t have met Dr Ashleigh, will you? He’s been working overseas for a while on secondment, but we are really pleased to have him back amongst us.’
Louise blinked. So James Ashleigh was a doctor? He must be a pretty successful one, by all accounts, if he drove a top of the range Mercedes. Unless, of course, he wasn’t that kind of doctor. Perhaps he had a degree in economics. That would certainly explain his presence here. Was he one of the wretched money-counters who were intent on eliminating her A&E unit?
She frowned and stared at him once more.
‘Dr Bridgford and I have already met.’ James Ashleigh returned her gaze with a faintly quizzical expression. Had he guessed what she was thinking?
‘Good, good,’ Mr Jeffries approved.
Louise inclined her head in acknowledgement and then went and sat down beside James, put out by the way his glance shimmered over her, and out of sorts that he was here at all.
‘I hope your grandfather is feeling better by now,’ she said in a low tone under the buzz of general conversation in the room.
‘His breathing’s better than it was,’ he answered as the assembly began to settle down. ‘His GP prescribed antibiotics, which helped a bit, but my grandfather’s heart has been failing for some time now, I’m afraid. He’ll never be the man he once was.’
Her mouth flattened. ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ She was even more sorry that his grandson couldn’t be trusted to take proper care of him. He couldn’t possibly be a medical doctor, could he? Where was his sense of responsibility and commitment?
‘So, let’s get on with the business at hand, shall we?’ Mr Jeffries began, calling the meeting to attention. ‘The main proposition before us is that we work towards centralising key services at the Royal Forest Hospital. This is part of a rational planning process that we hope will improve the way we serve the region and I’m looking to all of you to help find the best way we can devise our strategy.’
There was a rumble of comment from around the table as people sought to add their views.
‘Our most valuable resource is manpower,’ one man said, after some general discussion. ‘We should see to it that we have the best, most skilled specialists gathered together at the Royal Forest site. That’s where the cutting-edge equipment is based—high-performance scanners, new operating suites, and an up-to-the-minute range of telecommunication devices. Specialists can even offer advice over video links without having to travel from one base to another.’
‘That won’t be a whole lot of use if the departments in outlying hospitals have been closed down, will it?’ Louise murmured. She could feel herself getting prickly already.
‘We’re not talking about taking away necessary resources,’ the man answered. ‘We’re just redistributing them in order to provide a better service.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘You mean you’re tidying up as part of a cost-cutting exercise.’
Beside her, James Ashleigh stirred. ‘Not at all,’ he intervened. ‘It’s more a question of making the best of what we have. Now that we have to comply with directives about junior doctors’ working hours, it’s becoming even more difficult to maintain full coverage of departments. It