CHAPTER ONE

      DEBORAH would have said she was crazy. Deborah would have taken one look at the peeling paintwork, the worn and scruffy floor of the waiting room of the Belfield Infirmary’s A and E department, and said, ‘Liv, are you out of your mind?’

      A small smile curved Olivia’s lips. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she was crazy, but this was what she wanted. Not a pristine, state-of-the-art A and E department, but a place that needed her as much as she needed it. A department where all her organisational talents could be used to the full. She couldn’t wait to get started.

      ‘They’re moving very quickly today, aren’t they?’

      Olivia turned in her seat to see an elderly woman smiling at her, and smiled back. ‘Quickly?’ she repeated.

      The woman nodded. ‘Madge on Reception said she didn’t think I’d have to wait for more than two hours today.’

      Olivia’s smile vanished. Two hours? OK, so the waiting room was crowded but according to the head of human resources the department had two consultants, a specialist registrar, a junior doctor, plus a full complement of nurses. If they couldn’t manage a fast turnaround on a wet Sunday afternoon in September, how on earth did they manage at Christmas, New Year and during the summer holidays?

      ‘What are you here for, dear, if you don’t mind me asking?’ the woman continued, and Olivia coloured guiltily.

      ‘Stomach pains,’ she muttered, and the woman tutted sympathetically, which made Olivia feel even guiltier, but she could hardly tell her elderly companion the truth. That she was snooping. Snooping to find out how efficient—or otherwise—the Belfield’s A and E department might be.

      It had been her sister Deborah’s idea.

      ‘Why don’t you turn up incognito before you officially start work?’ she’d said when Olivia had told her she’d got the job. ‘It’s amazing what you can find out when nobody knows who you are.’

      Her sister had been right. Of course, her sister had also said Olivia would be married with a family by the time she was thirty, but big sisters couldn’t be right about everything. Not even big sisters who had the perfect job, the perfect husband and two equally perfect children.

      Unconsciously Olivia shook her head. It wasn’t Deborah’s fault that everything she touched turned to gold, whereas she always seemed to end up with the fuzzy side of the lollipop. And things were going to be different from now on. As from tomorrow she was the new clinical director in charge of the A and E department of the Belfield Infirmary, and it sounded good. Actually, it sounded downright wonderful.

      ‘Uh-oh, looks like trouble,’ the elderly woman beside her exclaimed.

      It did. Olivia had noticed the two young men earlier. One was clearly in need of medical attention while the other was obviously only there for moral support. Unfortunately his idea of moral support had been to sing raucous football songs and drink from a bottle for the last forty minutes, but up until now he’d simply been an irritant. Now he’d obviously become bored with waiting and had lurched across to the reception desk. Judging by the receptionist’s tight expression, he wasn’t engaging in pleasantries.

      An uneasy frown creased Olivia’s forehead as she watched him. Situations like this could all too easily get out of hand, and whatever the receptionist was saying wasn’t working. Neither, it appeared, was her panic button if the