he managed to get her to talk about herself and some of the places she’d worked in. London, Reading, Southampton, Coventry …
“You’ve certainly been around,” he said, watching her face in the candlelight, aware of her beauty, aware that it no longer moved him. “Where would you say you came from?”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t say I came from anywhere.”
“Where were you born?”
“London. Although we moved around quite a bit.”
“ We being you and your mother?”
She nodded, concentrating on her food for a moment.
“What about school, didn’t it make that difficult?”
“Oh, I went to a succession of private schools until I was eleven, then she sent me to boarding school – her father had set up some sort of fund for me to do that.”
A bell rang in his head – hadn’t she said a couple of weeks earlier that her mother had died when she was six?
“Was it better or worse than all the moving around?” he asked.
She took another mouthful of food, taking her time to answer and he wondered if she’d realised what she’d said herself ... “Neither, really,” she said at last. “Some of it was good, some not so. A bit like life. I got three decent A levels out of it, so I’m not complaining.”
Sodding awful then , he thought. “What made you choose nursing?”
“What made you choose medicine?” she shot back.
“The nurses, the money? Because it was there? I don’t know.”
Her face dimpled as she smiled again. “Because it was there,” she said,” That’s as good an answer as any.”
Session over, he thought.
*
The next day, Tuesday, he got chatting to the pair of nurses on the drug round and casually asked whether there always had to be two of them.
The senior of them, a buxom hussy called Carrie with big red hair and blue eyes was only too eager to help.
“If it’s only oral drugs, then one SRN can do it on her own,” she told him. “Or his own, of course,” she added archly, “Mustn’t be sexist, must we?” She grinned, continued, “But if there’s anything intravenous, there have to be two.” She shrugged. “There nearly always is, so there’s nearly always two of us.”
“So you sort of check each other out?”
“Yeah” she said, standing very close as she showed him … one of them read from the list and took the drug from the trolley, while the other gave the drug to the patient and signed the chart ... “That’s me, today,” she said, her sex, like her scent, hanging around her like a cloud.
“But it could be either of you?”
“Sure. As it comes, really. Anything else I can do for you?” she asked coquettishly.
“I’ll let you know,” he said, grinning inanely back at her.
He fled to his office to recover.
Later, in the evening, while he was sitting in his usual corner in the Social club nursing his usual pint and watching the darts match, one of the home team was suddenly called away. The rest of them looked at each other, then round the room and one of them made eye contact with him. He came over and asked him if he’d stand in.
He won the game for them with a Shanghai. They cheered, clapped his back, called him Jock and asked him to be a permanent member. He told them it was a fluke (only partly true), but left in a better frame of mind than he’d arrived.
*
Here we go …
He’d got in the next morning and found that one of his patients, Roger Trainer, had developed a chest infection in the night and been put on ampicillin.
He went to see him. His temperature, heart rate and blood pressure were all up.
“How are you feeling, Mr Trainer?”
“A bit shivery, bit wheezy, you know … otherwise, not too bad.”
Fraser nodded slowly.
What to do?
The thing was, Roger Trainer wasn’t what he’d thought of as an “at risk” patient; he was 72 and had come in with a fractured pelvis which was mending nicely. Other than that, he’d been healthy. There was no reason (officially) for him to interfere with the treatment, so
“You’ve certainly been around,” he said, watching her face in the candlelight, aware of her beauty, aware that it no longer moved him. “Where would you say you came from?”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t say I came from anywhere.”
“Where were you born?”
“London. Although we moved around quite a bit.”
“ We being you and your mother?”
She nodded, concentrating on her food for a moment.
“What about school, didn’t it make that difficult?”
“Oh, I went to a succession of private schools until I was eleven, then she sent me to boarding school – her father had set up some sort of fund for me to do that.”
A bell rang in his head – hadn’t she said a couple of weeks earlier that her mother had died when she was six?
“Was it better or worse than all the moving around?” he asked.
She took another mouthful of food, taking her time to answer and he wondered if she’d realised what she’d said herself ... “Neither, really,” she said at last. “Some of it was good, some not so. A bit like life. I got three decent A levels out of it, so I’m not complaining.”
Sodding awful then , he thought. “What made you choose nursing?”
“What made you choose medicine?” she shot back.
“The nurses, the money? Because it was there? I don’t know.”
Her face dimpled as she smiled again. “Because it was there,” she said,” That’s as good an answer as any.”
Session over, he thought.
*
The next day, Tuesday, he got chatting to the pair of nurses on the drug round and casually asked whether there always had to be two of them.
The senior of them, a buxom hussy called Carrie with big red hair and blue eyes was only too eager to help.
“If it’s only oral drugs, then one SRN can do it on her own,” she told him. “Or his own, of course,” she added archly, “Mustn’t be sexist, must we?” She grinned, continued, “But if there’s anything intravenous, there have to be two.” She shrugged. “There nearly always is, so there’s nearly always two of us.”
“So you sort of check each other out?”
“Yeah” she said, standing very close as she showed him … one of them read from the list and took the drug from the trolley, while the other gave the drug to the patient and signed the chart ... “That’s me, today,” she said, her sex, like her scent, hanging around her like a cloud.
“But it could be either of you?”
“Sure. As it comes, really. Anything else I can do for you?” she asked coquettishly.
“I’ll let you know,” he said, grinning inanely back at her.
He fled to his office to recover.
Later, in the evening, while he was sitting in his usual corner in the Social club nursing his usual pint and watching the darts match, one of the home team was suddenly called away. The rest of them looked at each other, then round the room and one of them made eye contact with him. He came over and asked him if he’d stand in.
He won the game for them with a Shanghai. They cheered, clapped his back, called him Jock and asked him to be a permanent member. He told them it was a fluke (only partly true), but left in a better frame of mind than he’d arrived.
*
Here we go …
He’d got in the next morning and found that one of his patients, Roger Trainer, had developed a chest infection in the night and been put on ampicillin.
He went to see him. His temperature, heart rate and blood pressure were all up.
“How are you feeling, Mr Trainer?”
“A bit shivery, bit wheezy, you know … otherwise, not too bad.”
Fraser nodded slowly.
What to do?
The thing was, Roger Trainer wasn’t what he’d thought of as an “at risk” patient; he was 72 and had come in with a fractured pelvis which was mending nicely. Other than that, he’d been healthy. There was no reason (officially) for him to interfere with the treatment, so
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