Cinderella of Harley Street. Anne Fraser
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fit in, and it had to be a hundred times worse for him.
Cassie stretched to ease the kinks from her back. The operation had been fascinating. The surgeon—Dr Blunt, who had worked on the Mercy Ship for the five years since she’d retired from a hospital in Boston, had told Cassie that she’d had more experience of dealing with this kind of tumour than she liked. However, she’d removed the growth with the minimum of bleeding and damage to healthy tissue.
There had been a scary moment when one of the blood vessels had started bleeding but Cassie had kept calm and managed to clamp it off without too much difficulty.
They stood back for a moment and surveyed their work. Even with the swelling, the boy looked much more normal. He’d never be a pin-up, but he wouldn’t look out of place.
‘Good job, Dr Ross,’ Dr Blunt said. Although the operation had been a success, Cassie couldn’t help but wonder if they could have made a better job of putting the boy’s face back together. That was the problem. She was never satisfied. Only perfection would suffice.
She let the theatre nurse remove her gown and dropped her gloves into the bin. The thought of still having to pound the decks for her nightly run made her feel even more exhausted, but the habit was ingrained and she knew she would sleep better for it afterwards. First, though, she needed a few minutes to unwind.
She stepped out on the deck of the ship and drew in deep lungfuls of fresh air. Although the sun had dipped below the horizon, the air was still muggy and almost immediately she felt perspiration trickle down her back under her scrubs. She would wait until it was cooler to have her run and besides she wanted to check on her patient when he’d recovered from the anaesthetic.
A spurt of laughter came from below her. The staff not in Theatre or on the wards had gathered for dinner and were no doubt sharing their stories of the day. Cassie moved away, seeking the quieter starboard side—the one that faced the sea. There was a spot there behind the lifeboats where she often went when she wanted to be alone—no easy feat when there were four hundred staff on board.
To her dismay, someone had got there before her. A tall figure was leaning against one of the struts, staring out over the ocean. She was about to tiptoe away when he turned. She recognised him immediately.
He smiled at her. ‘Dr Ross.’ She had to admit she liked his voice with its attractive Scottish burr. ‘I didn’t get the chance to thank you for your help earlier today.’
‘I didn’t do much.’ Cassie shrugged. ‘How is your patient?’
‘I had to do a complete hysterectomy. She won’t be having any more children.’
‘Perhaps that’s for the best.’ The area was so drought-stricken that despite everything the Mercy Ship and aid workers were doing, too many children were dying from starvation and, with clean water still a scarce resource, disease.
Leith looked at her in surprise. ‘I doubt she’ll see it that way.’
‘At least she has a living child. I saw the baby earlier and she’s going to be fine. Surely it is better for a mother to have one healthy child than several sick children?’
‘I don’t think we can apply our Western standards here, at least not without understanding more about the culture.’
Feeling as if she was being lectured, Cassie bristled. But before she could respond he went on.
‘I watched you while you were assisting in Theatre earlier. You have deft hands.’
She hadn’t noticed him among the observers in the gallery.
‘Thank you—er—Dr Ballantyne. ‘
Amusement glinted in his jade-green eyes. ‘How very formal. Call me Leith.’
‘Very well. Thank you, Leith.’ God, she sounded as if she was an awkward teen being introduced to her first boy. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and check on my patient.’ She didn’t really want to get into a conversation. Quite the opposite. For some reason she wanted to run away from this man as fast as she could.
He looked into her eyes for a second longer than was strictly professional before giving her a grin that sent her heart spinning.
Most days, as soon as she’d finished her early morning ward rounds, Cassie would make her way on shore and over to the school. Since their brief encounter on deck, Cassie found herself searching more often than she cared to admit for glimpses of Leith, but although they’d exchanged nods and smiles of greeting, to her relief—at least she told herself it was relief—he hadn’t sought her out.
As often happened, the sun was beginning to set by the time the last patient had been seen. Cassie was taking a few moments to admire the reddening sky when she sensed, rather than saw, Leith come to stand next to her. To her dismay, her heart rate went into overdrive.
‘Finished for the day?’ he asked with a smile. His white, short-sleeved cotton shirt emphasised the dark hairs on his chest and his muscular forearms. Why on earth was she even noticing?
‘Yes. Apart from ward rounds before bed.’ Cassie turned her face upwards, enjoying the feel of the early evening breeze on her overheated skin. ‘What about you?’
He rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘Me too.’ They stood together in silence as the sun flared, turning the soil pink.
‘Such a beautiful country,’ Cassie said softly, ‘despite its problems.’
When he looked at her, her pulse upped yet another notch. His eyes were the colour of summer grass, she thought distractedly. She gave herself a mental shake and glanced away. What was wrong with her, for heaven’s sake? Never before had she felt such instant attraction and it scared her.
Just then she noticed that a woman from the village was standing a couple of feet away, waiting patiently.
‘Doctor—come with me. Please?’ she said.
‘What is it?’ Leith asked. ‘Is someone in trouble?’
The woman glanced around anxiously. ‘Please. Just come. You both.’
Leith raised an eyebrow at Cassie. ‘Are you up for it?’
It was as if every nerve in her body was screeching at her to run—to keep her distance from this man. Which was ridiculous. Someone needed their help and of course she wouldn’t—couldn’t—say no.
When she nodded the woman smiled with relief. ‘My name is Precious,’ she said. ‘It is my sister, Maria, I want you to see.’
They followed Precious in the failing light along a narrow track. The cicadas had started chirping and the sounds of Africa permeated the night air. As the path entered a small stretch of trees the sun disappeared completely. Soon it was too dark to see properly, although the woman leading the way appeared to have no difficulty. Cassie stumbled over the root of a tree and Leith caught her hand. A spark shot up her arm and she had to resist the urge to pull away.
Still holding her hand and close on the heels of Precious, he guided Cassie along the path, pointing out intruding thorns from acacia trees and other obstacles for her to avoid.
A short while later they came to a cluster of huts. The villagers, lit only by the glow of the evening meal fires, were making preparations for the night.
But instead of stopping at one of the huts, the woman led them through the village and back into the darkness. Cassie had a moment’s doubt. This was a poor country and it was possible that the woman was leading them into a trap. But they couldn’t turn away now.
The thought clearly hadn’t crossed Leith’s mind as his footsteps never faltered. About two kilometres further on, with the village left far behind them, the woman stopped. At first Cassie could see nothing but then, as the woman pointed, she could make out a small hut in the shadows. This was unexpected. The villagers lived in close proximity to one another. Who could be living so far away from the comfort and help of others?
Precious