Forbidden To The Playboy Surgeon. Fiona Lowe

said, thinking about the affection in the man’s voice.

      He nodded enthusiastically. ‘Too right. That’s why I’m ’ere every mornin’. All us Landsburys are on the rota right down to the little tackers. If that lot in suits close ’er down, it’ll be a bloody disgrace.’

      Claire was about to agree when she heard her name being called. She excused herself and turned to see Victoria Christie, the petite and dark-haired paramedic who’d galvanised everyone into action by starting the Save Our Hospital committee. With rapid flicks of her fingers, Victoria was motioning her over.

      Bidding Reg goodbye, Claire crossed the cobblestones with care, regretting her heels. She reminded herself that her extra height would be necessary soon enough when she did rounds with Alistair. ‘G’day, Vicki.’

      ‘Hello, Claire. How are things?’

      It was a broad question that really didn’t demand a truthful answer but Claire had an unexpected and utterly disturbing urge to confide in the woman about how hard she was finding working with Alistair North. The thought unsettled her. She’d never been a woman who had a lot of girlfriends, and truth be told she usually got along better with men than women—which was fortunate given she was working in a male-dominated speciality. But it was immensely competitive so any friendships that had formed were always constrained by that reality.

      She’d tried friendships outside of medicine but people didn’t understand the crazy hours. Her frequent failures to turn up at events due to being delayed at work frustrated them and she noticed that it didn’t take long for the invitations to dry up altogether. It killed relationships too, or at least it had played a big part in her and Michael’s demise.

      There was more to it than just your job.

      She pulled her mind fast away from difficult thoughts and concentrated instead on trying to work out why women had to run in a pack and share the most intimate details of their lives with each other. She did have two close girlfriends and she’d always considered them enough, but Emma and Jessica were in Australia juggling toddlers, babies, partners and a burgeoning women’s health clinic. She missed them, and these last few weeks at the castle had thrown her for a loop. Never before had she felt so at sea in a job and she had no one to talk to about her baffling boss.

      How could one man generate such disparate feelings? She lurched from admiration to antipathy and back again, although right now admiration was fast losing its gloss. In Australia, she’d worked under crusty old neurosurgeons who barely knew her name and when they did deign speak to her it was to bark out instructions. It hadn’t always been a pleasant experience but at least it was predictable behaviour. They’d played by the archaic rules set down a hundred years ago and she’d just put her head down and got on with the job. So why was she struggling to do that with Alistair North?

      Because he doesn’t play by the rules.

      And wasn’t that the truth! The man drove her to the point of distraction with his lack of attention to detail outside of theatre. Sure, she was his trainee, but along with her clinical work she was carrying his administrative load as well as her own and it was wearing her down. She’d been working ridiculously long hours trying to manage the paperwork and she didn’t know how much longer she could trade sleep to keep up. Last week, with an enormous sense of guilt, she’d offloaded some of it onto her house officer. Andrew had accepted it without question, because that was the system, but part of her had wanted to explain. The rest of her had overruled the idea. Since leaving Gundiwindi, she’d held her secret close so it couldn’t be used against her. She’d got this far and as soon as she qualified she’d be home free.

      Meanwhile, she was barely treading water with the added report load, and combined with her own exhaustion and the Pied Piper incident on the ward two days ago, she’d lost her temper. Oh, how she regretted that she’d given in to fatigue and frustration. It had been beyond unwise but what worried her even more was her current pattern of behaviour. For some reason, when she was in Alistair North’s company, she lost her protective restraint.

      Not once in her career had she ever spoken back to her consultant, and now with the end of her fellowship in sight, it wasn’t the time to start. But as each day passed, she felt more and more like a smoking and steaming volcano ready to blow. To try and keep herself in check, she’d started clenching her fists when she felt her frustrations rising. As a result, her palms had developed permanent dents in them. She’d discovered if she focused on the sharp digging pain she was less likely to say something she’d regret. It didn’t always work and she’d clearly seen his displeasure at her criticism of his approach with Lacey. But instead of disciplining her, he’d rewarded her by letting her operate.

      This unexpected offer had both stunned and thrilled her. At the time, she’d hoped it meant she’d finally passed his test of attempting to drown her under a sea of administrative work. That his offer for her to operate solo meant he’d finally recognised her clinical skills and they were entering the next phase in their working relationship. For a few delicious moments she’d floated on air and then reality had hit. His offer for her to operate had been pure expediency. The playboy had a lunch date.

      That moment was the first time she’d ever doubted his professionalism. Even then, the suspicion wasn’t straightforward. Back in Australia, she’d had opportunities to insert VP shunts and she was competent in the procedure. He would have known that, so the fact he wasn’t going to be in the operating theatre with her wasn’t exactly abandoning his patient. Yet he’d admitted to going to lunch!

      So, you’ll lambast him for telling the truth when he could have created excuses like your previous bosses?

      Sick of the endless loop of contradictory thoughts, Claire gave herself a shake. ‘Today’s a new day,’ she said cryptically to Victoria’s question, ‘with new things to learn.’

      ‘Alistair’s a generous teacher.’

      ‘He’s certainly generous,’ she said, fighting the urge to purse her lips in disapproval.

      Victoria laughed and her chestnut ponytail swung around her shoulders. ‘Our Alistair certainly loves women. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

      Unable to hide her astonishment, Claire blinked at the pretty paramedic. Not you too! If the hospital grapevine was to be believed, Victoria and Dominic MacBride were very much together. ‘Oh?’ she asked cautiously.

      Victoria’s face lit up with enthusiasm. ‘You’ve heard about the hospital ball?’

      For anyone not to have heard about the ball, they’d have to have been living under a rock. Posters graced every noticeboard inside the hospital, and outside they’d been pasted on the poster pillars along the main road. Invitations had been sent to the past and present medical and auxiliary staff and one massive wall in the cafeteria had been covered with an enormous banner declaring the Spring Fling ball to be the social event of the season. The chatter about it had even managed to dent the football conversations about which team would be playing in the FA Cup final in a few weeks.

      ‘I think I may have seen a poster about it somewhere,’ she said with mock thoughtfulness.

      Victoria missed the joke and continued in earnest. ‘It’s our first major event and we’re hoping to raise fifty thousand pounds. The thing is, we really need Alistair to attend. If he doesn’t, it’s going to affect ticket sales.’

      Claire laughed and then stopped as she caught the expression on Victoria’s face. ‘You’re serious?’

      ‘Deadly. He told Dominic that things were—’ she raised her fingers into quotation marks ‘—complicated, which is code for he’s broken some poor deluded girl’s heart once again.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘Why they even think they could be the one to get him to commit is beyond me. The man is Peter Pan. Anyway, we really need him at the ball because we plan to auction the seat next to him. Women will have the chance to sit next to him for one of three courses. We’re also selling his dance card. Your job is to make sure he attends.’

      ‘I doubt I can make Alistair North do anything