Summer in Sydney. Fiona McArthur
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it’s very nice.’
And he didn’t quite smile, but there was just a hint as he got back to his stitches and he saw her hands were just a little bit shaky when she snipped, though he was sure they had been steady before.
He didn’t look up, but he could see her in his mind’s eye for a moment. She was quite a stunning little thing—tiny, with very dark brown eyes and a thick curtain of hair that he’d heard Sheila pull her up about a few times. It was held back today with a ridiculous bandage, but defiantly kept escaping. It was lovely hair, red but not …
‘It’s not really ginger …’ Cort said, and still didn’t look up.
‘Absolutely not,’ was Ruby’s response.
‘Auburn?’
‘Close,’ came her voice. ‘But I prefer titian.’
And he gave a very brief nod and then worked on quietly. It was actually a lovely silence, just nice to sit and watch him work, especially as she could hear things starting to pick up outside. She could hear Connor calling out for assistance and feet running and though it was par for the course here, she screwed her eyes closed for just a second, but he must have looked up and noticed.
‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t need to cut if it’s making you feel sick—just hold his hand.’
‘Really, I’m fine,’ Ruby said, because a nasty cut and tendons and muscle and all of that didn’t bother her a jot.
It was out there that did.
It wasn’t a fear of seeing people sick, Ruby thought as she snipped Cort’s stitches, and it wasn’t a fear of death because she’d actually enjoyed some agency shifts on the palliative care ward.
It was this, Ruby thought as a buzzer sounded and Cort looked up.
This moment, which arrived at any given time, the intense drama that was constantly played out here, and it actually made her feel physically ill.
‘Do you need me?’ She heard Cort shout in the direction of Resus, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice, and Ruby sat, staring at the hand she was holding, sweat beading on her forehead. She would hold this hand all night if only it meant that she didn’t have to go out there.
‘Jamelia’s here,’ came Sheila’s voice, and because apparently Cort liked to be kept up to date with everything, her voice came closer to the open suture-room door.
‘We’ve got a head and facial injuries. He arrested at the approach to the hospital and they’re having trouble intubating.’
‘I’ll come.’
‘There’s no need,’ Sheila called. ‘Jamelia’s got it and the anaesthetist is on his way.’ But he wasn’t listening. Already he’d peeled off his gloves and was pulling off his plastic apron. ‘Wait here,’ he called over his shoulder. Given he was halfway through stitching, and the patient couldn’t be left, Ruby had no choice but to sit and wait, which she did for a full ten or fifteen minutes before Cort returned, and if she’d seen him crabby this past week, he was really angry now.
She could feel it as he tied on a new gown and washed his hands.
‘What the hell was that?’ Sheila was less than impressed as she swung into the room. ‘I told you we had it under control.’
‘No. You told me they were having trouble intubating. Jamelia gets nervous …’
‘Well, she’s never going to get any confidence if you keep coming in and taking over.’
‘So, what?’ Cort said. ‘Do we just let her stumble through and kill off a few more brain cells?’
‘Give her a go, would you?’ Sheila responded.
‘No,’ Cort said, and didn’t qualify further, even as Sheila waited, but when Cort remained silent, Sheila turned her frustration back to its regular recipient.
‘What are you doing here, Ruby? I told you! I specifically told you not to leave Resus.’
‘Mr Mason asked me to come and hold an arm.’ Ruby gulped.
‘Someone else could have done that. Now you’ve missed watching an emergency tracheotomy …’
‘Oh.’ Ruby wondered how she could even attempt to sound disappointed at having missed out on seeing that! ‘That’s a shame.’
‘A shame?’ Sheila replied. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘I asked her to come in here.’ Cort intervened as Ruby struggled for a better response. ‘She was sorting out a cupboard, so I thought I’d give her—’
‘I’ll deal with my nurses, thanks, Cort.’ She turned back to Ruby. ‘I’m sick of this, Ruby …’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘I haven’t got time for this right now. I’ll speak to you at your assessment this evening. Bring a coffee,’ she added. ‘We might be there for a while.’
Sheila stormed off, and Cort carried on stitching as Ruby sat there with cheeks flaming. Cort knew that if he didn’t deal with this situation now, he’d forget about it or miss out on seeing Sheila later, and with a small hiss born of frustration and anger he stood again, peeled off another pair of gloves and waded out into the department, leaving Ruby sitting there.
‘It’s not her fault.’ Cort walked into Resus and straight up to Sheila, who was coming off the phone to ICU. ‘What is a student supposed to say when a senior registrar asks her to come and do something for him? She checked with Connor …’
‘Ruby finds excuses all the time, Cort,’ Sheila said. ‘She’d do anything to avoid work and you just gave her the perfect excuse. She searches for them …’
‘She didn’t, though,’ Cort said. ‘I approached her.’
‘Fine,’ Sheila said. ‘I’ll bear it in mind. Right now I’ve got more important things to deal with.’ Cort looked over to the screened area where Sheila was heading, where the team was working solidly. He caught Jamelia’s eye and she came over.
‘Thanks, Cort.’ Jamelia meant it. The hellish intubation had turned into a nightmare just as Cort had arrived and she was incredibly grateful that Cort had taken over when he had.
‘Call for help,’ Cort said, ‘preferably before you really need it.’
Jamelia nodded.
‘So,’ Ruby said when he returned to the suture room. ‘It looks like we’re both in trouble.’
‘I’m not in trouble,’ Cort said. ‘I’m just running out of size 9 gloves.’
He sat down and blew up his hair, because it really was warm in the suture room and he was still so angry he could spit. ‘There’s a big difference,’ he said, ‘between hero and ego. If you take anything from this place—take that.’
Ruby nodded.
‘I told Sheila it wasn’t your fault,’ he added as she snipped the last of the stitches.
‘Thanks,’ Ruby said. ‘Though I doubt it will help.’
He wanted to ask more, wanted to find out why she was in trouble, but he didn’t want to wonder more about her as well. She stayed quiet as he finished the neat row of sutures then he asked her to put on a dressing, thanked her for her help, peeled off the plastic gloves and washed his hands.
‘Cort.’ Jamelia came to the door and it sounded an awful lot as if she’d been crying. ‘Would you mind …?’ She gave a small swallow. ‘Would you mind talking to the relatives for me?’
‘I’ll come and take a look at him first.’ Cort nodded and picked up his jacket just as Sheila bustled