To Break A Doctor's Heart. Sharon Kendrick

assigned to a medical ward, so it was inevitable that their paths would cross sooner or later. She just hadn’t been prepared for it to happen on her first day on the wards, or for the sudden rise in her pulse rate.

      Luke hadn’t spoken to her, but she couldn’t miss the fleeting look of amazement which had appeared in his eyes. She was certain that he had expected her to totally dismiss his suggestion that she become a nurse. He had probably forgotten all about her after that day.

      And she wouldn’t have expected him to say ‘hello’. Even in the short time since she had been at St Anthony’s, she had realised just how rigidly stratified hospital life was.

      They had been taught the rudiments of etiquette in class, and this morning Anna Hunter had reminded her that nurses did not call each other anything but ‘Nurse’ on the wards. Sister was always formally called just that, and senior doctors certainly did not pass the time of day with the most junior of student nurses in the middle of the consultant’s ward round! Claire sighed as she recalled how strong and how gorgeous Luke had appeared, standing next to the note-trolley, the thick golden-brown hair waving on to the collar of his white coat.

      As she and Anna pushed open the swing doors into the canteen, Claire wondered if Luke was involved with the pale blonde girl she had seen him with in the restaurant. He might even be married.

      The sharp pain which this thought produced made her pray fervently that he wasn’t. But he had been with three women that evening, and a good-looking man of his age was bound to be involved with someone.

      Fortunately, her schedule for the next two days was frantically busy, and there certainly wouldn’t be time to spend mooning over Luke Hayward.

      She was looking forward to this weekend off—when she started on the wards full-time next week a weekend off would become like gold-dust—probably only every fourth week. She must make the most of it, and she was looking forward to moving into her new flat. It was slightly smaller than her old one, but it was situated in the middle of an elegant square with a lovingly tended garden in the centre. And the view from her bedroom window was incredible—she could see the foot of the hill and beyond to the mysterious swathes of netting which formed the aviary at the Zoo, and in the distance, London’s buildings and skyscrapers, with the Post Office Tower standing tall and proud like a rocket.

      She had elicited the help of both Mary Wells and Simon to help her move—the latter claiming that he could drive the more delicate items along himself, to save them being damaged in the furniture van. Claire had thanked him enthusiastically, but wondered just how many trips he would have to do, since his low, narrow sports car was fairly short on baggage space!

      By midday, every piece of furniture and clothing which she possessed sat in packing cases in the middle of her new sitting-room, so that the place resembled a jumble sale!

      They all three set to work with a will, and by six o’clock some kind of order had been imposed. Simon had bought her an enormous bunch of white lilies, and these she placed in a tall black vase in front of the big windows in the sitting-room.

      Claire walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I’ve found the box with the teapot and cups,’ she said, looking around vaguely. ‘But I haven’t managed to locate any tea to put in them!’ She smiled apologetically.

      Simon looked at his watch. ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘The pubs are open. Why don’t I buy you both a drink?’

      ‘I’d love one,’ said Mary immediately, dimpling at Simon.

      They all queued up to wash the grime from their hands and make their hair look presentable.

      ‘Simon spends more time looking in the mirror than we do!’ joked Mary in her down-to-earth way, and Simon grinned sheepishly.

      It occurred to Claire that she had never seen him teased quite so relentlessly as Mary had teased him that afternoon, and she noted with some surprise that he actually seemed to enjoy it.

      They walked down the road to a large pub on the corner. The last of the shops were shutting up for the night and the restaurants were preparing to open. There was a soft warmth in the air, with the promise of a hot day to follow. They were a companionable threesome, and linked arms until they reached the pub.

      Simon went up to fetch the drinks and Claire and Mary found a table beneath a stained glass window, which sent pools of bright clear colour on to the dark polished wood of the table.

      ‘He’s gorgeous!’ whispered Mary enthusiastically. She looked anxiously at Claire. ‘You and he? Are you . . .?’

      ‘No, we’re not,’ interrupted Claire hurriedly, smiling at Mary’s embarrassment. ‘We’re—to use that awful phrase—just good friends.’

      Simon carried three drinks of lager over from the bar and sat down. Claire sipped her drink and sat there quietly, watching as the other two tried to outdo each other with jokes about doctors!

      She had never seen Simon so animated. His girlfriends had all been tall, fragile-looking fashion-plates, a complete contrast to Mary, sitting there happily in old jeans and a sweat-shirt. She was a petite girl with a glossy wing of raven hair, big grey eyes and a wide, sunny smile. One of her hobbies, it seemed, was gardening, and Claire listened in astonishment when Simon said that he had an allotment in Shepherd’s Bush.

      ‘You never told me that!’ exclaimed Claire.

      ‘You never asked me!’ he retorted, his eyes on Mary.

      He invited them both for supper, but Claire said she was tired.

      ‘I’ve still got lots of sorting out at the flat to do, and I want to bone up—if you’ll excuse the pun—on the digestive system before I start on Belton on Monday.’

      The other two didn’t look as though they minded her excuse one bit, she observed wryly.

      ‘Claire’s the class swot,’ said Mary. ‘She came top in the end of Block exams.’

      Simon turned to her. ‘Did you really? That’s absolutely marvellous, Claire! I had no idea you were any good at exams.’ He sounded genuinely pleased for her.

      ‘Neither did I,’ she told them. ‘But I find I just love anatomy and physiology. Let’s just hope I can apply it to the practical side of nursing.’

      She left them outside the pub and walked back up to the flat. Twinkling stars were faintly discernible in the sky. For one impetuous moment she almost felt like taking the longer route home, past the restaurant where she had first seen Luke, wondering if he ate there regularly. Then she scolded herself silently for thinking like a lovestruck little schoolgirl.

      Lovestruck. An odd choice of word, she thought as she let herself in through her new front door.

      But an accurate one.

      On Monday morning she started on Belton full-time, and began to learn a little more about the daily routine of the ward.

      Every second of every hour was taken up with something. Each one of the twenty-four patients had to be washed, fed and cared for, and this was the basic job of the nurses. The doctors were there to diagnose and prescribe treatment, and this treatment was then carried out by the nurses.

      There might have been time to do everything were it not for a chronic shortage of staff, and the medical emergencies which could arise at any time. Claire quickly discovered that the entire staff for the morning shift could consist of Sister or staff nurse, a third-year and two very inexperienced first-years. Sometimes they were lucky enough to be sent ‘help’, but this invariably took the form of an auxiliary who didn’t know the ward properly and was not allowed to give out drugs or to do dressings.

      Claire realised that she would have to learn to walk around the ward at the same breakneck pace as the other nurses, who seemed to be in perpetual motion, as though they were on roller skates.

      Sister Thompson always tried to take the student nurses for half an hour’s teaching in the afternoon, when there was an overlap with the late shift. She