Название | Top-Notch Men! |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Anne Fraser |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | Mills & Boon By Request |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781408970676 |
‘He’s a nice chap,’ Harry said, as the nurse handed him another pack. ‘I’ve worked under a lot of directors in the past but I can tell Joel Addison is switched on.’
‘He’s highly skilled, yes,’ Allegra agreed, not quite able to disguise a little scowl.
Harry gave her another quick glance before he positioned another pack in the patient’s abdomen. ‘Are you still worried he’s going to stop your project?’
‘He’s not keen on me working with the Lowe boy, especially now.’
‘That’s to be expected, I guess,’ Harry said. ‘God, it was a shock to think someone could waltz in and interfere with equipment like that on the mother. Have the police got any idea of who did it?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘What about the father?’ Harry asked. ‘He’s certainly got a motive, I would think.’
‘He’s also got an alibi,’ Allegra pointed out.
Harry gave a grunt as he began to close the abdomen. ‘How very convenient for him.’
‘I don’t think he did it,’ she said, hoping her gut feeling was right.
‘Not personally, but perhaps he had someone do it for him,’ Harry said.
Allegra frowned as she checked the anaesthetic monitors. The same thought had crossed her own mind. Had Keith organised someone to get rid of his wife? It was clear he hated her for what she’d done to their son and if Tommy’s injuries proved to be permanent, how much more would he want to avenge his son’s life?
‘What if he was the one who drugged her up and sent her off in that car in the first place?’ Harry said into the silence.
Allegra swung back to look at him. ‘With his own son sitting in the back seat? Come on, Harry. Keith might not win the husband-of-the-year award, but he loves his son. Besides, he wants me to do what I can to get Tommy to wake from his coma. If he was involved in any way with his wife’s accident, I hardly think he’d want a seven-year-old witness on hand to testify against him.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right,’ Harry said. ‘But it pays to look at it from all angles.’
‘That’s what the police are for. There’s already been too much gossip and innuendo as it is.’
‘Speaking of gossip, Patrick Naylor was crowing about you and him having a drink later this evening,’ he said as he finished closing the wound.
Allegra let out a frustrated breath as she began to reverse the anaesthetic. ‘I’m only having a drink with him because he’s been supportive of my project, although he’s wavering on it in the Lowe boy case. It seems he’s joined the Addison camp.’
Harry removed his mask and stripped off his gloves. ‘There was a lot of opposition to your project, as you know. It was good of Patrick to stand by you, no matter what his motives.’
‘What’s your opinion, Harry?’ she asked. ‘Were you for or against my study?’
‘Look, Allegra, you know I’m not one for reading auras or any of that stuff, but what you did with the Greeson girl was beyond what anyone else in the unit could offer. Her parents drew a lot of comfort from how you handled things. Even if your study goes on to prove nothing of scientific value, who’s to say it’s not worthwhile? Everyone wants results these days but sometimes we have to settle for what is. You helped two devastated parents cope with the worst tragedy imaginable, and you did it by maintaining their daughter’s dignity right to the very end. So, yes, I was for your study, and still am.’
She gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Harry.’
He winked at her. ‘You remind me of my eldest daughter, Amelia. She wants to take on the world, and heaven help anyone who gets in her way.’
‘The only person in my way is Joel Addison,’ she said, with another downturn of her mouth.
‘He’s not in your way, Allegra,’ Harry said. ‘He’s just trying to make sure the unit brings in the results everyone is expecting. I know you would have preferred Dougal Brenton but personally I think Joel Addison is streets ahead. He’s had experience in a war-torn country and he’s got a clear, calm head under pressure. He’s innovative and focused, which is exactly what this hospital needs in its ICTU director right now.’
‘I know all that but he has such a bias against me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to get through to him.’
‘I don’t think you need to worry about getting his attention, Allegra,’ he said with a grin. ‘It seems obvious to me that you’ve certainly got that.’
She gave him a speaking glance. ‘I’ve got his attention, but for all the wrong reasons.’
‘I don’t know about that. He’s a reasonable enough man. If you can produce results, I think he’ll come round.’
‘I need more time to produce the sort of results he requires,’ she said. ‘It can take some patients weeks, if not months to regain consciousness. He’s given me a month, but it’s not long enough to do what I want to do.’
‘Just do what you can in the time you have. You’ve got a chance with the Lowe kid—he’s young and his brain damage may not be as bad as first expected. I’ve seen kids like him on ventilators for weeks and then suddenly they’re up and running about as if nothing had happened.’
‘I hope that’s how it will be for Tommy,’ she said. ‘He’s just seven years old.’
Harry gave her a probing look. ‘You’re not getting too emotionally involved in this, are you, Allegra? I know you had a rough time with the Greeson girl but we all have to move on. They’re our patients and we do what we can, but it’s not our fault if we can’t pull a miracle out of the hat every time.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, wondering if it was true. ‘I just want to give this my best shot. I know there’s potential in this study. I can sense it.’
‘You have to show it, not sense it,’ he reminded her, with scientific pragmatism.
‘I know that, Harry. I’m well aware of the parameters I have to work within. I just think there are ways we’re not utilising that could help patients regain consciousness. Everything seems to be economically rationalised these days—if there’s no EEG activity after X days and Y dollars of ICU support, pull the plug. But with a different theoretical approach and some time and effort, I believe we could start a paradigm shift in the management of post-traumatic coma.’
‘I hope to God you’re right, Allegra,’ he said, as he removed his surgical gown. ‘I hate it when ventilators are switched off on live bodies. It doesn’t matter how many CT scans and EEGs, I still can’t help feeling there might have been …’ He didn’t need to complete the sentence.
‘I know,’ she said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘“Brain dead” is a cold, hard term. I realise we can’t keep people alive indefinitely on a ventilator when there’s clearly no hope. I just want to make absolutely sure there is no hope, that we’re covering every aspect, not giving up before every option is explored.’
‘I know it’s a well-worn adage, but I really do believe that where there’s life there’s hope. Joel was right when he said earlier that it’s not over until it’s over. Even Gaile Donovan here—sick as she is—still has a slim chance of making it.’
Allegra looked down at the pallid features of the patient under her care. ‘I certainly hope so, Harry.’
He gave her a weary glance as he helped move the patient from the operating table to the ICTU bed. ‘I’m going out to speak to the husband and daughters now. I wish I could promise them more but I’m not a miracle-worker.’
‘She’s alive, Harry,’