The Surgeon's Marriage Demand. Maggie Kingsley
sedative you’ve got.’
Babs did as she asked, but when Olivia pocketed the syringe and got down on her hands and knees, the sister eyed her uncertainly. ‘Are you sure about this? I could call Seth—’
Over her dead body. ‘Of course I’m sure,’ Olivia replied, but she didn’t feel anything like as confident when she crawled into the cubicle and caught sight of Mr Taylor sitting on top of the trolley.
Dear lord, but he was huge. If he stopped throwing fruit and started throwing his fists, she was going to be in serious trouble.
Think positive, Olivia, she told herself firmly. You might not have physical strength but you have intelligence. And probably about ten seconds in which to use it, she calculated as she stretched up, yanked the saline drip off its hook and then crouched down again fast.
Make that five seconds, she amended with a sinking heart as an ominous rustling sound came from the trolley, which suggested that Mr Taylor was delving into his shopping bag again.
‘There’s no need to get agitated, Mr Taylor,’ she said soothingly. ‘I’m here to help you.’
‘Get lost!’
‘And I love you, too,’ she muttered under her breath as she swiftly injected the syringe full of sedative into the drip tube. ‘Now, if you could just breathe in deeply for me, I’ll—’
She didn’t get a chance to finish what she’d been about to say. Tomatoes began raining down on her, splattering her white coat, and she squeezed on the saline bag for all she was worth. It was a quick-acting sedative, but he was a big man and it could be several seconds before it took effect. All she could hope was that it kicked in before he ran out of tomatoes.
‘Sleepy time, Mr Taylor,’ she crooned. ‘Time to go to the land of nod. Time for Mr Sandman to come along and close your eyes.’
‘Get lost,’ he said again, but this time with slightly less enthusiasm, and she squeezed even harder on the bag.
‘Maybe you should consider visiting the Merkland Memorial next time you injure yourself,’ she continued. ‘Much as we love having your custom…’
Bingo! With a surprising grace for such a big man, Mr Taylor keeled over on the trolley, and she caught his bag of groceries just before it hit the floor.
A smile curved her lips. She’d been right. Brawn wasn’t everything. Brains could be just as effective, but it had been a close-run thing.
‘OK, Mr Tough Guy,’ she murmured, getting awkwardly to her feet. ‘Let’s see what damage you’ve done to yourself.’
To her relief his hand wasn’t as badly injured as it had looked. He’d certainly sliced his thumb pretty badly, and there were lacerations to his other fingers, but luckily he hadn’t hit any vital arteries.
‘You must have a charmed life,’ she observed as she cleaned his hand, then inserted some stitches. ‘Pity I can’t say the same about your manners.’ A loud snore was her only reply and she chuckled. ‘See you around, Mr Taylor—but hopefully not for a very long time.’
Quickly she pulled back the cubicle curtains and blinked as a round of applause greeted her.
‘Way to go, boss!’ Babs beamed. ‘Whoever said women were the weaker species?’
‘Not at the Belfield they’re not,’ Fiona exclaimed, and Jerry grinned.
‘You look as though you’ve had a tussle with a mad axe murderer and lost.’
‘Oh, funny.’ Olivia laughed. ‘Babs, Mr Taylor’s hand will need a dressing. I’ve given him enough sedative to knock out an elephant but keep your eye on him. He—’
‘What the hell’s going on?’
Olivia turned to see Seth striding down the examination room towards her, and smiled. ‘Crisis over. Mr Taylor—’
‘You’re bleeding,’ Seth declared, concern plain on his face. ‘Babs, we’ll need a cross-match, X-rays—’
‘Seth, these are tomato stains,’ Olivia said, beginning to laugh, only to stop when she saw his expression. ‘I’m not laughing at you—honestly I’m not. It was sweet of you to be concerned, but Mr Taylor just decided to throw some fruit around, and I was the unlucky recipient of the tomatoes. I’ve stitched—’
‘Babs, have you telephoned the janitor to come and clean up this mess?’ he snapped, cutting right across Olivia’s explanation.
The sister flushed. ‘Not yet, but—’
‘Then I suggest you do it now. If a patient slips and falls we’ll have a negligence suit slapped on us before you can say diddly squat and I don’t think Admin will consider that a laughing matter, do you?’
‘And I don’t think there was any need for you to chew poor Babs’s head off,’ Olivia protested as the sister hurried towards the phone and Fiona escaped into Mr Taylor’s cubicle. ‘It’s been pretty hairy in here for the past quarter of an hour, and—’ He’d walked away from her. He’d just upped and walked away, and she turned to Jerry furiously. ‘Of all the rude, arrogant…What is wrong with that guy?’
‘I think he was worried about you,’ the specialist registrar replied, and Olivia rolled her eyes heavenwards.
‘Worried? Seth Hardcastle wouldn’t care if I was strung up by a mob of rioting yobs.’
‘Of course he would. Look, he’s not normally like this,’ Jerry continued as Olivia shook her head. ‘All right, so he can be a bit abrasive at times if he thinks a patient’s trying to con him, or if Admin’s giving him the runaround, but—’
‘So you’re saying it’s me—my fault?’ Olivia exclaimed, pulling off her stained white coat and throwing it into the laundry basket with rather more force than was strictly necessary. ‘Jerry, he’s impossible. If I said white, he’d say black, just to be difficult.’
The specialist registrar looked uncomfortable. ‘I know he has some pretty strong views—’
‘Some?’ Olivia spluttered. She opened her mouth to give Jerry chapter and verse of all the things Seth had said and done over the past week, then snapped her jaw shut. Gossiping with a member of staff about another member of staff was a definite no-no. Asking for information, however, wasn’t. ‘Jerry, why didn’t he get the clinical director’s job? He’s got the experience, the ability, so why didn’t he get the job?’
Jerry sighed. ‘Seth’s always been a bit of a maverick, and I guess Admin’s not keen on guys doing their own thing.’
Independence wasn’t a bad thing, Olivia thought as she stared down the examination room to where Seth was deep in conversation with one of the nurses. She just wished his particular brand of independence wasn’t always constantly directed at her.
‘Well, I can’t change my sex,’ she said belligerently, ‘so he’s just going to have to live with it.’
Jerry looked startled. ‘Can’t change your…? Why would you—?’
‘Oh, lord, what’s wrong now?’ Olivia exclaimed as Tony strode angrily out of cubicle 3, followed by an equally irate-looking man.
‘Looks like young Tony’s in trouble,’ Jerry observed.
‘Looks like young Tony needs help,’ Olivia said, and together they hurried towards him.
‘Dr Mackenzie, perhaps you can convince Mr Carter that I’m a bona fide, fully qualified medic,’ Tony said the moment he saw her. ‘He seems to feel—’
‘Is either of you somebody in authority?’ Mr Carter demanded, glancing from Jerry to Olivia then back again.
‘I’m the clinical director in charge of this department,’ Olivia replied. ‘What can I do for you?’