Her Miracle Twins. Margaret Barker
Читать онлайн книгу.
She found herself busy all day with a seemingly endless stream of patients. There was no time to think about herself. She was glad she would be going off duty soon because her ankle was aching now. Actually, it had been aching for the past hour or so but she’d chosen to ignore it. It would be a sign of weakness if she sat down during working hours.
The evening staff were arriving and taking over the patients who were still waiting to be seen. She took the opportunity to go into the office to write her report. Settling herself in front of the computer with her right foot on a chair, she turned sideways and switched on the computer. It was a relief to take the weight off her ankle.
She typed on in her difficult position, listing the wide variety of cases she’d dealt with that day.
Before the crash patients from the motorway had arrived, her first patient had been the child with a frozen pea up his nose. Frozen when it had gone up, according to Dad, but decidedly squelchy and messy when she’d managed to pull it out with her smallest forceps. The blood that came with it was because of the various attempts that had been made to reach it with a variety of household instruments, including a spoon, before the young boy had been brought to Emergency as a last resort.
She’d assured the worried father that the bleeding was only shallow and would stop soon as long as the young patient promised not to pick his delicate little nose.
Following that, there had been the motorbike rider on the coastal road who’d crashed into the back of a car that had stopped suddenly. X-rays had shown a fractured tibia and fibula so she’d called in Orthopaedics to admit him to a ward before they operated on him. The operation had been successful.
‘So this is where you’re hiding?’
She recognised Michel’s voice behind her, lifted her ankle with both hands to support it and turned the desk chair round.
‘Don’t let me disturb you, Chantal. How does your ankle feel after a whole day on your feet? Tell me honestly. Don’t be brave about it.’
‘Well, it aches a bit now. It’s just because it’s tired.’
‘OK, that’s a warning sign to ease off. Come in after lunch tomorrow and just work the afternoon.’
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Are you sure, Michel? I don’t want my colleagues to think I’m getting preferential treatment.’
‘And why on earth would they think that?’
‘Well, I’ve had a lot of time off recently and …’ She felt flustered as she attempted an explanation. ‘You’re the boss. If you think it’s OK then I’d best take your advice.’
He put on a serious expression. ‘I’m absolutely certain. Easy does it.’
‘You’ve been so kind to me.’ She was merely stating the obvious while no one was around to hear her praising him. She just felt she’d had preferential treatment and had to be careful.
‘I’m just being an attentive doctor to a valuable colleague.’ His voice was husky. He cleared his throat, before continuing in a totally neutral voice without a hint of emotion, ‘You’re a very useful doctor in our department so we don’t want to mess up the treatment you’ve had at this stage.’
She felt another surge of gratitude. ‘I was wondering …’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m truly grateful for the way you’ve taken care of me since I sprained my ankle and I’m sorry for the way I was so grumpy when you found me lying in the sand.’
‘Oh, Chantal, you were suffering from shock. Completely understandable. You were in pain. It was perfectly natural for you to behave like that. Forget it.’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking.’
She paused as she reflected that she really had been thinking too much about this delicate situation. It had started while she’d had to spend a lot of time resting during the early part of her treatment. Now was the time to act before she lost her nerve.
‘I’d like to buy you supper one evening as a means of thanking you for all your help in getting me back on my feet’
He was staring at her now, seemingly lost for words. ‘Chantal, you don’t have to buy me supper.’
‘Oh, but I’d like to.’
She’d rehearsed this invitation so often, not knowing how he would take it. She hadn’t meant to deliver it in this awkward position, sitting sideways to the desk, holding her convalescent ankle with both hands. She must look so ungainly.
‘Of course I know you must be busy in the evenings so if—’
‘I’d like to take up your offer, Chantal. Thank you. What did you have in mind?’
He was smiling now, trying to lighten up. She’d caught him completely off guard. It had been the last thing he’d expected from her.
‘Well, I thought it would be fun to have supper at that old wooden beach café near the place where you rescued me from that killer stone. I used to be taken there for lunch after a morning on the beach at Club Mickey. It was before my father died, I remember.
‘Every August my cousin Julia and her brothers came over from England with their parents for a holiday and that was where we’d all meet up. It was such a treat. Our mothers—they’re twins—were always there. Our fathers were both English so the conversation over lunch switched from English to French all the time. It was such a happy time in my life.’
He noted the poignant hint of nostalgia in her voice before he spoke to reassure her of his interest in this kind invitation.
‘I’d enjoy going to the beach café, Chantal. Actually, I’ve never got around to visiting it. It looks a quaint sort of place.’
She smiled. ‘I’m not surprised you haven’t tried it yet. It looks very shabby now. The winter winds and rain mean it needs repainting every summer. They haven’t got around to that yet this year but it’s got its faithful clientele just the same.’
‘Will you make the booking or shall I?’
‘Oh, we don’t need to book. It’s first come first served. Just let me know when you’re free.’
‘How about tomorrow?’
She hid her surprise at his prompt reply. She’d expected him to defer his answer and then possibly forget about it. She wouldn’t have had the nerve to repeat her invitation.
‘Yes, that would be good. If I’m only working for the afternoon I won’t be tired.’
He nodded. ‘That was exactly what I was thinking. We’ll go straight there when we come off duty. Now, finish your report as soon as you can and go and rest that ankle on your bed with a pillow to elevate it. Be sure to call Housekeeping and order supper to be brought up to your room.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that was possible.’
‘All things are possible for the medical staff of the Hôpital de la Plage.’
He was reaching across the desk for the internal phone. ‘This is Michel Devine. My colleague Dr Winstone will be resting in her room this evening. Could one of your staff take her a supper tray? Yes, about seven o’clock.’
He broke off to speak to Chantal. ‘Coq au vin, omelette, or salade Niçoise?’
‘Salade Niçoise, please.’
He relayed the message. ‘So I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Chantal. Now, do rest that ankle.’
He turned and moved towards the door to stop himself regretting his decision to have supper with Chantal. Closing the door after he’d passed through it, he leaned against it, breathing heavily.
‘You OK, Dr Devine?’
He hadn’t noticed a