The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal. Margaret McDonagh
‘Is that the X-ray request form?’ she asked, gesturing to the slip the older woman held in her lap.
‘Yes, that’s right. Shall I give it to you?’
‘Please.’ Francesca stood up. ‘I’ll find out what’s going on and get you booked in.’
Mrs Devlin’s relief was obvious. ‘Thanks, lass.’
A quick check at the reception desk with Kim, one of the unit’s clerks, confirmed that Olivia had failed to organise the requested X-rays and had left her charge unattended for some time. After a hectic morning in Radiology, things were beginning to wind down, but as her colleagues on duty were all busy with patients who had prebooked appointments, Francesca offered to handle Sadie Devlin’s case herself.
‘I thought you were on your lunch-break now?’ Kim fretted as she wrote up the necessary paperwork and entered the details on the computer.
‘It’s OK.’ Francesca was determined to ensure that Mrs Devlin did not have to wait another moment before she was made comfortable. ‘I’m no longer on call for A and E and I’ll still have time for a quick snack before I start on the appointments I have scheduled for this afternoon.’
The younger girl smiled as she handed over the file. ‘Thanks, Francesca. I was getting a bit worried, especially when Olivia disappeared and just left the lady there. Things have been so busy I haven’t had a minute, but I was going to speak to her if Olivia didn’t come back soon.’
Making a mental note to have words with the tardy nurse, Francesca returned to Mrs Devlin and wheeled her to a vacant X-ray room.
‘I’m not jumping the queue, am I?’ the thoughtful lady fretted.
‘Not at all. I’m just sorry you had to wait this long.’
Francesca prepared things in readiness to take the required images. As she turned to face the woman once more, dread filled her, a lump forming in her throat as she wondered how to voice her concerns about how she had been hurt.
‘What happened today, Mrs Devlin? Did you have an accident or…?’ Her words trailed off and she cursed the tinge of colour that warmed her pale cheeks, betraying her discomfort and, no doubt, making the direction of her thoughts all too clear.
Mrs Devlin sent her an understanding smile as the unspoken question hung in the air between them. ‘It’s all right, Francesca. Really. Yours is a natural assumption to make, after all. But on this occasion it was all my own fault. I climbed onto a chair to change a lightbulb. So silly of me.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘It was more rickety than I thought, and when it gave way, I overbalanced. The next moment I was on the floor. Instinct had me putting my hand out to save myself. I knew right away that my arm was broken.’
‘Did you hit your head at all?’
‘No, but I grazed my face on the chair as I fell…hence the bruises. The nice doctor in Casualty was very thorough checking me over and my arm seems to be the only worry.’
‘That’s good news.’ She smiled, relieved there was nothing more serious going on. ‘Let’s get these X-rays taken, then.’
‘Francesca…’
A change in the tone of voice alerted her and she looked up, seeing both determination and the shadows of past pain in the older woman’s green eyes. ‘Yes?’
‘Mick, my husband, died five years ago.’ The announcement was delivered after a short pause and without emotion, but a welter of meaning resonated in those seven words.
Francesca bit her lip, unsure what to say. She couldn’t express sorrow for the loss of a man who had been brutal and cruel, at whose hands Mrs Devlin and her three children had suffered for years and whose often violent crimes had led to several spells in prison.
The woman reached out with her uninjured hand to pat Francesca’s arm. ‘You don’t have to say anything, lass. I know what people thought of him—of us as a family. Many wondered why I stayed, but it was for the children. I couldn’t abandon them and Mick would never have let me take them away from him. My being there gave them some protection.’
Only at the expense of her own, Francesca wanted to protest, but held her tongue. She was angry on Mrs Devlin’s behalf, she always had been, but even through the impotence of youthful rage, she had also long admired her courage and her love for her children. Not that all of them had deserved her selflessness. It was true that everyone in Strathlochan had known the history of the Devlin family and had spoken of them—the men, at least—with disgust and wariness. Rumours and prejudices had been rife about them and Francesca had grown up fearing Mr Devlin and the two older boys, Jon and Pete, who had shown all the signs of following in their father’s unsavoury footsteps.
Her own home life had been nothing to write home about but for all the problems surrounding the Devlins, Francesca had always envied them Sadie. Her care for her children had been obvious, even for Jon and Pete, who had repaid her dedication so shabbily. To Francesca, Sadie Devlin was all a mother should be…the kind of mother she herself had always longed for. So many times growing up she had admired her from afar, had played make-believe in her mind, pretending Sadie was her mother and that someone loved her for herself, always had a kind word for her, a ready hug. Reality had always intruded—a reality without the love and cuddles and kind words she had so craved.
Pushing aside unwanted memories, thoughts of things she had long since tried to banish and shut away in a dark, secret part of her mind, Francesca focused on her task, being as gentle as she could as she positioned the injured arm so she could capture the clearest picture of the suspected fracture. Explaining exactly what she was doing and ensuring her patient was as comfortable as possible, Francesca retreated to the protected cubicle while the X-ray was taken.
‘I need to take one more picture from another angle and then we’ll be finished,’ she explained, returning to the main room. ‘I’ll be as careful as I can.’ Even so, Mrs Devlin winced as her arm was moved and repositioned. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, lass, it has to be done.’
Francesca worked swiftly to minimise any discomfort and, once she had completed the X-rays, resettled Mrs Devlin’s arm in the supportive sling. The images were soon ready to send to the A and E department but there was still no sign of Olivia Barr. Angry that the nurse had deserted her patient, Francesca decided to return Mrs Devlin to Casualty herself.
‘How long have you been back in Strathlochan, lass?’
The question caught Francesca by surprise, once more reawakening things she wished to keep dormant and in permanent hibernation. ‘Nearly three years now,’ she confided as she guided the wheelchair down the maze of corridors that were so familiar to her but could easily confuse the unwary.
‘And you like it here at the hospital?’ Sadie probed.
‘I do. I love my job.’
Saying the words out loud confirmed the truth of them. For the first time in her life she felt she fitted somewhere, Francesca admitted. She relished the variety of the work she did, both within the radiological unit itself and when she was on call to A and E. The buzz and uncertainty of the emergency work appealed to her, being quite different from the order and organisation of the unit and set appointments.
As a rule, she wasn’t good with people, but she enjoyed the interaction with her patients, devoting herself to their care and doing her best for them while they were in her charge. Outside her professional life, once she shed her work persona, she avoided people as much as possible. She knew that her nickname around the hospital was the Ice Maiden but it didn’t bother her. The people who dubbed her that knew nothing about her or her life. She got on all right with most of her colleagues in the work environment, but any kind of social interaction made her uncomfortable.
She had a few people she counted as friends. One was A and E doctor Annie Webster, who was currently recovering from a frightening incident when she had been attacked while on duty three weeks ago, an assault that had nearly