One Night in Emergency. Carol Marinelli

know, but she’s so tiny I’m sure it will be plenty.’

      ‘Sure.’

      Of course, because Mary had never let her so much as touch the sacred controlled drug keys, it seemed to take for ever to work out which one to use, especially with Rory tapping his pen impatiently as she fumbled. ‘Sorry.’ Pulling out the drugs, she showed him the morphine vials. ‘Twenty ampoules, after this one nineteen.’

      ‘Agreed.’

      Thankfully he took it from her to pull it up, so at least Eleanor was spared the indignity of getting a thin needle into tiny ampoule with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking.

      As Rory pulled up the drug, Eleanor filled in the drug book, carefully writing in the patient details and the amount of morphine to be both given and wasted before signing her name.

      ‘All done?’ he checked.

      ‘I just need your signature.’

      ‘Sure.’ She waited as he signed, stood with keys poised, ready to close the cupboard once he’d finished with the drug book, but Rory seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to sign his name.

      ‘Is everything all right?’ Eleanor asked anxiously.

      ‘Fine.’ With a flurry he signed his name then waited patiently while she locked up. ‘Sister Lewis.’ His lips twitched around the words and Eleanor stood frozen as he continued with a grin, ‘So that’s the reason you were so uptight.’

      ‘Obviously,’ Eleanor muttered through gritted teeth, the drug room seeming to implode on them as Rory started to laugh.

      ‘It was you who…’

      ‘Shaved you? Yes! Charged you ten dollars for crutches? Yes!’ Eleanor answered hotly. ‘I can’t believe you’ve only just recognised me.’

      ‘I recognised your name,’ Rory corrected, still laughing as her blush deepened. ‘Sister Lewis. And before you assume I was blind drunk last week, I wasn’t.’

      ‘I beg to differ,’ Eleanor scoffed. ‘You could barely focus! You didn’t even recognise me this morning!’

      ‘Oh, I’m sure I’d have remembered that face.’ Rory grinned. ‘But the simple fact of the matter is I lost my contact lenses in the accident. And if you don’t believe me, wait till you work a Saturday night with me and half the department’s scrabbling around the floor because I’ve lost a lens. I really can’t see beyond my nose without them.’

      ‘You’d lost your contact lenses?’

      ‘I’m as blind as a bat without them,’ Rory explained, his smile fading as he registered the tense look on her face. ‘Are you all right, Eleanor?’

      ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ Eleanor bristled. ‘Given that you were the patient I mistreated.’

      ‘You didn’t mistreat me,’ Rory said slowly, a frown marring his forehead as he eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You were very—’

      ‘Efficient,’ Eleanor finished for him. ‘You already said.’

      ‘Hey, Eleanor, you really are upset, aren’t you?’

      ‘Oh, what do you care?’ Eleanor snapped, then, remembering Rory was a consultant and she a very new nurse, she gave her head a small shake, running a worried hand across her forehead before dragging her eyes up to his. ‘I’m sorry. Sorry for snapping just now and I’m sorry about the other night.’

      ‘Forget it.’ Rory shrugged. ‘Look, I never meant to upset you.’

      ‘Then why did you…?’ Tears were brimming now, angry, hurt tears, a whole week of humiliation rearing to the surface now. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were the consultant of the department? Why on earth did you let me make such a fool of myself?’

      He never got a chance to answer, the door opening and Mary bustling in. ‘There you both are.’ Taking the kidney dish with the drug in it, she gave Eleanor a wink. ‘You took so long I thought you must be shaving the other thigh.’

      ‘Mary.’ Rory’s voice was stern. ‘That’s enough about that. Eleanor’s upset enough, without having everyone constantly going on about it.’

      ‘Well, you should have thought of that,’ Mary scolded with another wink, flying out the door, ‘before you let some pretty young blonde thing shave your leg.’

      Left alone Eleanor gave a brittle smile, as Rory stood there grim-faced.

      ‘Well, I guess Mary just answered my question.’

      Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, pulling hard on the metal handle and escaping into the corridor, her mind pounding as she raced to catch Mary.

      She’d been a fool to think a new start would change things. It was her old job all over again!

      Worse even.

      Slowing down, she caught her breath for a second, and reluctantly acknowledged why.

      He’d seemed so nice.

      Oh, not the Rory Hunter who’d paraded in this morning, but the tousled-haired rugby player she’d met that Saturday night. The man who’d made her laugh, the man who’d gently teased her. A man who, despite her embarrassment, despite her scorching shame around their first encounter, she’d been secretly looking forward to seeing again.

      Secretly pleased she’d be working alongside.

      Well, not now, Eleanor thought darkly, picking up her pace and heading for the cubicle. Rory Hunter was as bad as the rest and Mary was just the same.

      She’d been a fool to think things would be different here.

      The morning passed in a horrible blur. For once, Mary’s razor-sharp tongue seemed to have softened and for the most part she left Eleanor alone with her blushes as she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the sniggers from the rest of the staff every time Rory came within a square mile of her.

      ‘Mary said you were to go to lunch now.’ Vicki smiled as she came over. ‘I’ll watch your patients while you’re gone. What’s happening?’

      ‘Not much,’ Eleanor sighed. ‘Most are waiting for beds.’ She took Vicki around the cubicles, giving her a brief handover of all the patients in her care, but as they got to cubicle eight Eleanor stepped inside, frowning as she felt Em’s pulse. ‘Her pulse is very irregular.’

      ‘Her respiration rate’s down, too,’ Vicki observed, glancing at the casualty card. ‘She looks very comfortable, though,’ she added as they stepped outside. ‘I don’t think Mrs Nugent will be going to a ward.’

      ‘It’s Miss Nugent,’ Eleanor corrected, ‘but she likes to be called Em.’

      Vicki nodded, writing the preference in red on the card and circling it—something Eleanor hadn’t thought to do. ‘Go on, you’d better go.’

      Eleanor nodded but her heart wasn’t in it, her eyes dragging back to cubicle eight. ‘I might just sit with Em for a while,’ she said as Vicki’s eyes widened. ‘I can have my lunch in there.’

      ‘Are you mad?’ Vicki shook her head. ‘Mary would have a fit. No, go and have a proper break. I’ll keep an eye on her.’

      And she would, Eleanor knew that. In a little while Vicki would pop her head in, pat the old lady’s hands and check that she was comfortable, but that would be it. And no one was being cruel, no one was neglecting the patient or being indifferent. There simply wasn’t time for one-on-one nursing when it wasn’t intensive, weren’t enough nursing hours allocated in Emergency to hold an old lady’s hand for an hour or two.

      But that was what nursing was about for Eleanor.

      That was the nurse she wanted to be, the nurse she’d sworn she would be, and she wasn’t going to changer her priorities