St Matthew's Passion: A Medical Romance (13 page)

Many doctors and nurses had been attacked in the course of their duties, but Melissa had always managed to avoid it. She stared into the man’s eyes, the whites showing all the way round the irises. He was on something, she supposed distantly; some drug. His mouth was wide open and panting, and he held the blade up in front of his face like the ophthalmoscope she used to examine a patient’s eyes.

She felt the urge to close her eyes, but didn’t; she couldn’t take them off him as he advanced. Desperately she tried to remember what she’d learned about breakaway techniques and self-defence. She’d have to use her knee, or her foot. Or would her nails in his face be more effective?

The door to the second theatre flew open and Fin came through at a run.

As if his senses were heightened by whatever psychoactive substance he’d taken, the young man whirled and shoved the wheeled table which had held the bowls towards Fin. At the same time the man made a dash for the door leading out of the scrub room into the main theatre reception area. Fin stepped sideways to dodge the table, and while he did so the boy reached the door and disappeared through. A male theatre nurse, who’d followed close on Fin’s heels, burst through the door after the knifeman.

Melissa cowered against the edge of the basin, half slumping. For an instant Fin looked as if he was going to set off in pursuit of the young man. Then he stared at Melissa, and the next moment he had reached her and folded her tightly in his arms.

‘
My God, are you all right?’

She nodded against his chest, unable to force out words. For a few seconds they stood there, his warmth surrounding her and cocooning her, her nose pressed against his chest where it was exposed above his surgical scrubs (he’d taken off his gown, she noticed), inhaling the male smell of him. He rocked her gently, and she felt his hand move up and caress her hair.

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured close to her ear. ‘He’s gone now.’

Melissa felt herself starting to tremble, uncontrollably, and as if he sensed this he wrapped his arms more tightly around her as though to relax his grip would be to allow her to shake herself apart. She whimpered, her voice muffled by his chest, as the realisation hit her of what a lucky escape she’d had.

No, not lucky. Fin had saved her.

She pulled her face away from his chest and gazed up at him. He looked down at her, his eyes grave with concern, scared even. As though he too was considering what might have happened.

‘I’d just finished up through there,’ he said. ‘Heard shouting. What was he doing in here?’

In a faltering voice, she explained how the young man was coming to finish what had been started on the other boy she’d operated on. Fin listened, still holding her. When she’d finished he pressed his lips on to the top of her head.

‘You kept you cool,’ he said. ‘If you’d panicked form the word go, there’s no telling what he could have done.’

She pulled her head away and gazed up at him again. ‘But you came to the rescue,’ she said. ‘He was going to cut me.’

Something passed through his eyes, a flicker of what Melissa had seen there in his office that night, moments before they kissed for the first time. A smouldering heat that threatened to ignite into full flame at any second. Quickly she reached up a hand to grip the back of his head and pulled his face towards her, arching up against him, her mouth seeking his. She felt his body respond down below, where his hips pressed against hers. 

Fin bent his neck so that his mouth hovered inches from hers. He lowered so that his lips brushed hers, the tip of his tongue finding her own, gently probing.

Then he drew back, releasing his grip on her. Melissa felt as if a lifebelt was being loosened from around her in the middle of the ocean.

His eyes burned, the passion overwhelmed by something much darker and more agonised.

‘We can’t,’ he whispered.

Melissa straightened and, in doing so, glimpsed two of the nurses who had emerged through the theatre doors behind find. They stood and stared.

Still trembling, but now from a violent maelstrom of emotion that was more than simple delayed shock, Melissa tore off her surgical gown and flung it into the laundry hamper and strode out of the scrub room, not caring if the man with the knife was somehow lurking beyond.

***

By the following afternoon Melissa was tired of everyone asking her if she was all right.

The young man with the knife had been apprehended near the exit by the hospital’s security staff, who’d wrestled the knife away from him and kept him still until the police arrived. They’d taken a statement from Melissa, of course, and at the end had commended her on keeping her cool as she had. Melissa didn’t think there was anything to be applauded in what she’d done.

Fin had met her later with a couple of the hospital managers and they had asked her carefully if she was hurt. No, she’d replied; but she’d thought,
not physically, anyway
. Nothing in Fin’s expression gave a hint of what had passed between them earlier in the scrub room. The managers had asked if she wanted to go home early. Melissa declined.

Today, the nurses and the doctors alike had been tiptoeing around her as if she was some delicate piece of porcelain that could be easily broken by something as minor as a sudden noise. When she learned that a patient with a complicated laceration was being kept in Accident & Emergency for Mr Finmore-Gage rather than trouble Ms Havers with it, she’d had enough. Melissa stalked down to the A&E Department and took charge of the case.

She needed work, needed to keep busy with something that both was physically demanding and engaged her mind. It was the only way she could keep her thoughts from returning to Fin, and to the way passions had flared up between them again so suddenly yesterday, despite her resolve, and apparently his too, that they would put their feelings behind them and get on with their jobs.

She took her time in theatre with the leg laceration, performing a careful decontamination and debridement – removing the tags of soiled skin and fragments of foreign material – before deciding to leave the surface open and unsutured to promote healing. The patient would need a skin graft at a later date. Afterwards Melissa visited the patient on the post-op ward, sitting with him and reassuring him that he wasn’t going to lose his leg, despite the messiness of the wound.

Deborah appeared by the patient’s bed just as Melissa was saying her goodbyes. ‘How are you feeling, Mr Rogers?’

‘
Better since Dr Havers here sorted me out,’ the man grinned. He wagged a finger at Melissa. ‘Hang on to this one, Sister. She’s good.’

Deborah smiled tightly, not looking at Melissa, and Melissa thought:
oh, no. What now?

She found out a few minutes later when she was sitting alone in the registrars’ office she shared with Emma, writing up some notes. Deborah put her head in at the door and, seeing Emma wasn’t there, came in.

Melissa sighed. ‘Before you ask, I’m fine, thanks. I had a scare yesterday but I was unharmed, and I’ve got over it.’

Deborah perched on the edge of the desk. ‘I know you have. You’re tough. I haven’t come to talk about that.’

Melissa put down her pen and watched the nurse, waiting. Deborah’s expression was positively grim.

‘
You’re tough, but you’re also stubborn. You won’t take advice.’

‘
Perhaps you’ll clarify what you mean,’ Melissa said coolly.

‘
Yesterday. After the boy with the knife had run away. Two of the nurses saw you and Mr Finmore-Gage.’

‘
Yes.’ Melissa felt her breathing quicken. ‘He scared the attacker off. I was petrified. He comforted me.’

‘
He certainly did, by the sound of it.’

‘
What are you insinuating, Sister Lennox?’ Melissa stayed seated with effort.

‘
I’m not insinuating anything. It was plain for the nurses to see. You were kissing.’ Deborah held up a hand to head off Melissa’s protest. ‘I’m not getting into an argument about who started what. I’ve no interest in that. What I’m concerned about is the smooth running of this department, and the proper management of the patients under my care.’

‘
Oh, come on.’ Melissa was on her feet now. ‘Patient care isn’t suffering.’

‘
Isn’t it? Fin’s mind is elsewhere. He’s distracted. He loses his temper more easily. No harm has come to any of the patients that I know of, thank God, but it’s only a matter of time. To do the job Fin does, that you do for that matter, a doctor needs to give one hundred per cent. It’s not there at the moment. And the other staff are noticing it, too.’

Melissa was speechless. Was it true? Had her performance, and even Fin’s, been lagging? And was it so obvious that junior staff members were picking up on it?

When Deborah continued, her tone was a fraction softer. ‘You may call me a nosey old bat, Melissa, but I’m not blind. It’s obvious when a man and a woman have… been together. There’s a difference in the way they conduct themselves, the way they interact with one another.’ She sighed. ‘And I suspect that the two of you aren’t an item. Not quite. But you can’t let go. That’s the problem.’

Melissa watched her in silence for a long moment. When she trusted herself to speak, she said, her voice quiet: ‘If, for the sake of argument, what you’ve said is true. What do you expect from me? From Fin?’

Deborah spread her hands. ‘It’s a tough one. I’ve been in love myself. I know how powerful the forces are that drive you in one direction, even when your head tells you it’s all wrong. But I’m afraid I can’t give you any advice in this case. You’re going to have to come up with a solution yourself.’ She paused, as if steadying herself for what was coming next. ‘This is going to sound harsh. You’re a superb doctor, as I’ve said before. I’ve never wavered in believing that about you. And it’s great seeing a woman do so well in a man’s game. But I have to think about my department, and my patients. If this carries on, if whatever’s going on between you and Fin doesn’t end, and the work here continues to feel the impact, then I’ll have no choice but to make a formal complaint about you to Professor Penney.’

The blood pounded in Melissa’s temples, a giddiness setting in. ‘You wouldn’t –’

‘I would, believe me. And it might not be upheld, but it’s not the sort of thing you want to have  to deal with. It’s highly unpleasant.’

‘
You’re blackmailing me.’

‘
Not at all. I’m simply warning you of the perfectly legitimate action I’m prepared to take in order to protect my department. Please don’t test my resolve, because I’m not bluffing.’

The steel had crept back into the nurse’s tone, and her eyes reflected the hardening. Melissa held her gaze for three seconds, four. Then she straightened the notes on her desk, squaring the edges off, and lifted her head.

‘Very well,’ she said briskly. ‘Your comments are noted.’

‘
And? What’s your response/’

‘
I’ll do what I have to do,’ said Melissa. She walked over to the door and held it open, indicatin the meeting was over.

It was only after the nurse had gone that Melissa slumped down at the desk, her face in her hands.

Decision time.

Chapter Nine

In the event, Melissa didn’t make her decision until just before dawn the following morning.

One of a doctor’s most treasured resources was sleep, and once again Melissa had gone short. This time it wasn’t patients who’d kept her awake, but her own inner agony. She’d deliberately refrained form reaching out for help, hadn’t called her parents or her brother or Emma, even though she knew all of them would have been more than willing to talk to her. She had to make one of the most important decisions of her career, and such a personal event required her to come to her own conclusions, without the advice of others, no matter how well-meant or even well-informed it was.

Besides, she knew what everyone would say. That she was a fool even to consider it.

But as the cold January morning sky began to lighten beyond her window, she had a sudden flash of clarity, the kind of “eureka” moment she’d experienced when the answer to a puzzling clinical problem had clicked into focus. She sat up in bed, all too aware of the immensity of the conclusion she’d reached, but at the same time strangely relieved. She’d made her choice, she’d live with the consequences, and that was that. 

She was going to leave St Matthew’s.

Her friends, her family, her colleagues would see it as utter madness. She’d been given this golden opportunity, a chance no surgeon would pass up but only a tiny proportion were ever offered, and she was going to throw it away. She’d get excellent references from Fin and Prof Penney, she was sure, and she’d have little difficulty getting a job elsewhere. But always, there’d be a question mark hanging over her. Why had she done it? Couldn’t she handle the pressure of St Matthew’s? Was she a difficult person, who lacked the ability to work as part of a team? Did she provide proof to the chauvinists within the profession that women, at the last, couldn’t meet the demanding standards expected of them? It wouldn’t be career suicide, quite. But it would hobble her progression, there was no doubt about that.