CHAPTER ONE
Three years later...
‘WELCOME BACK TO the madhouse,’ Liz said as Stacey Wainwright stepped into the nurses’ office on the surgical ward where she was head nurse.
‘Thanks for nothing.’ It had been hard, packing her lunch and heading out the door, leaving her daughter behind with Dad after two weeks spending time being with Holly, playing, walking in the park, reading stories. ‘I’ll get over it,’ she told the other nurse.
‘And that’s not this job you’re talking about,’ Liz answered with sympathy in her eyes. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’
Neither did Stacey sometimes. If it weren’t for her parents, especially her father, being the daytime carers she’d probably have found some other way to stay solvent and be with Holly, but it wouldn’t have been easy. ‘I manage. So does Holly. She adores her granddad.’
‘Who spoils her rotten.’
‘Funny, that. He never spoilt me or Toby.’ Her brother took pleasure in teasing Holly about that, even when she was too young to understand.
‘Grandparents’ rights, eh?’ Liz tapped the computer screen. ‘Let’s get this done so I can go get some breakfast before sleeping the day away. It was hectic in here last night. Two new admissions, both with post-trauma surgery after a multiple pile-up in the Rotherhithe Tunnel. I’ve got individual care on each, but they shouldn’t deteriorate unless the unexpected happens, which we know often does.’
Liz continued going through the patient list. ‘This one.’ She pointed to the last name on the list. ‘Jonathon Black. Keep an eye on him. He had his pancreas removed thirty-six hours ago because of cancer. Early this morning he complained of increased pain and his temperature’s spiking. Joel upped his antibiotics in case there’s an infection developing.’
Stacey studied the notes on the screen. ‘Joel wasn’t too concerned?’ If the duty registrar was okay with these results then so should she be, yet unease was rising, and she knew not to ignore that.
‘He suggested a CBC, but I haven’t had time to take blood.’
‘I’ll see to it.’ Nothing like a normal white-cell count to counteract the sense of an out-of-control infection coming into play. ‘Anything else I need to know? Apart from who’s getting married, divorced, having another baby?’ She grinned. She’d missed everyone while she’d been away. They were a tight-knit group on the ward, and outside work.
‘Come on. We were expecting you to come back with some gossip about what you’ve been up to and who you’ve been seeing.’
‘Get out of here. I’m going to see Mr Black.’
I’m not telling you about the guy I went on a date with.
There’d be no end to the quizzing. Anyway, while she liked Matthew she wasn’t overly enamoured and wouldn’t be following up. The few times she’d dated over the years since that night with Noah in an effort to keep moving on had only made her regret more than ever not getting his contact details.
Not only because of Holly either, but because there was no denying the intense longing to see him again she couldn’t douse no matter how hard she tried. He’d got to her in unexpected ways, like being kind and gentle, exciting and sexy. Of course there was a lot to learn about him, and she wanted to more than she could believe, even after all this time.
That one night when she’d danced like she’d never quite done before, or since, had totally distracted her from the past and made her happy beyond belief. It had been out of this world, as had the man she’d danced and made love with.
Talk about a life-changer. Holly was the result, and she wouldn’t alter a thing, other than find the man and tell him he was a father. So far, her endless search had come up blank. It was hard with only a first name to go on. The world was full of Noahs, apparently. He’d got away and her disappointment was huge. There’d been a connection she’d not expected, and she wanted to follow up. Sigh.
‘Hey, Stacey?’ Liz called. ‘There’s a new surgeon on the ward. He started a week ago, so I haven’t met him since I’ve been on nights and he hasn’t been called in. He’s Jonathon Black’s surgeon. Mr Kennedy. Quite something, apparently. And I’m not talking about him as a surgeon.’ She grinned.
Stacey waved a hand over her shoulder. ‘Thanks, Liz. I’ll give him your phone number when I see him.’ A laugh followed her down the ward as she went to see Mr Black.
She’d meet the surgeon soon enough. In the meantime she had a job to do. ‘Hello, Jonathon. I’m Stacey Wainwright, the head nurse on this ward. I’ve just returned from leave and have been getting up to speed with your details.’
‘I heard you were due back today.’ His face was red and puffy around eyes filled with pain.
Stepping across to read the monitor showing his BP, heart rhythm and temperature, she said, ‘I hear you’re uncomfortable and that your temperature has risen. What about pain in the region of your surgery? Has that quietened down since the op?’ Despite the notes on the computer, she liked to ask patients about their symptoms, in case any details were left out.
‘It’s hurting more than ever. The pills I’ve been given haven’t helped.’
‘Do you mind showing me where this pain is exactly?’ Stacey lifted the sheet to pull up the hospital gown he still wore for ease of access and keeping pressure off the wound a pyjama bottoms waistband might cause.
‘All around here.’ Without touching his abdomen, he indicated an area forward of where his pancreas would’ve been situated.
‘Not up here?’ She lightly touched the surgical wound.
‘That hurts, but the deep pain is away from there.’
Add in the thirty-eight-point-five-degree temperature, the deep red shade in his face and upper body, and there was definitely something more than an infection of the internal wound going on. Or so her gut told her. ‘I’m going to take a blood sample and send it to the lab. Then I’ll call your surgeon and inform him what’s going on.’ She’d also put Jonathon’s breakfast on hold for now. If he had to go back to Theatre he didn’t need food in his bel
ly. ‘We’ll get this sorted for you.’
‘Thank you, Nurse. I am worried that something else is happening.’
‘Try to relax. I know, easily said. Please don’t accept food or anything to drink.’
He nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Show me again where it hurts the most.’ When he indicated the same spot, where the appendix was, she asked, ‘On a score of one to ten, ten being the highest, what would you say the pain is?’
‘Eight.’
‘Right. I’ll get the blood-test kit.’ On the way she stopped at the office and asked for Mr Kennedy’s speed-dial number. She had a sinking feeling that whatever was causing Jonathon’s distress was rapidly becoming urgent.
‘Mr Kennedy.’
Her brow furrowed at the sudden voice on the other end of the line. Shaking away an odd sensation she couldn’t explain, she said briskly, ‘I’m Stacey Wainwright, head nurse on Surgical. I think you need to see Jonathon Black. He has severe pain and an increased temperature. I’m about to take an EDTA specimen.’ She filled in the details.
‘It’s likely an infection of the wound, possibly internal. I’ll be up in a few minutes.’
‘Thank you. I have a feeling it’s something else. Appendicitis, even peritonitis.’
‘I’ll investigate all possibilities when I get there.’ The phone went dead.
Fair enough. He was the doctor. She the nurse. In the past she’d met doctors who put nurses down, but she’d never been able to keep her thoughts to herself when she believed there was something happening with a patient that hadn’t been considered. He hadn’t had time to consider anything, hadn’t observed his patient this morning, and she was about to meet him. She hoped Mr Kennedy wasn’t going to be the kind of doctor to give a rebuke for putting her opinion out there.
She shivered. That sense she’d missed something when he’d first answered her call returned. Like she knew him, but as far as she could recall she hadn’t worked with any doctor of that name. Guess she’d know soon enough.