The Shy Nurse's Rebel Doc. Alison Roberts

particular patient was. That she needed more of Sam’s attention.

      ‘Is there anyone I can call that could come and keep you company? A family member or a friend?’

      ‘No...my friends are all in the home, now. I’ll see them when I get back.’

      ‘Is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?’

      ‘A cup of tea would be lovely...and maybe a gingernut?’

      ‘I’m sorry, Dottie. You’re nil by mouth at the moment because we’re waiting to take you up to Theatre for your operation.’

      Yes...that was a flash of real fear in her patient’s eyes. Sam squeezed her hand again and this time, she didn’t let go.

      ‘I’m quite sure that you’ll be fine,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s a straightforward procedure these days. You’ll be on your feet in no time.’ Her smile widened. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re dancing again, soon.’

      ‘Oh...we used to love dancing, me and my Bill.’

      ‘Your husband?’

      Dottie nodded. ‘My third.’ She winked at Sam. ‘Third time lucky it was, for me. Are you married, dear?’

      ‘No... I’m only twenty-eight.’

      ‘I got married for the first time when I was eighteen.’

      ‘Oh...’ Sam widened her eyes. ‘Maybe I’m on the shelf, then.’

      ‘No...things are different these days. It’s sensible to wait for the right one. I lost my first husband in the war, so that wasn’t my fault but the second one was definitely a mistake. I should have kept looking a bit longer.’ There was a gleam in Dottie’s eyes that suggested she was well distracted from her fear. ‘You’re such a pretty girl, dear. I’m sure you’ve got lots of suitors.’

      Sam laughed. ‘What a lovely, old-fashioned word. I’ve had a few boyfriends, if that’s what you mean. I’m too young to be thinking about getting married. There’s too many things I want to do first.’

      ‘Don’t wait too long, dear. You might let the right one slip past...’

      ‘I’ll keep that in mind. I’d better go now, but I’ll be back soon, okay?’

      It really was time that Sam checked on her other patients although it was possible that that comment had struck a nerve. Why hadn’t she found anyone that turned out to be a contender for the position of the ‘right’ one? Dottie had been right. With the classic combination of blonde hair and blue eyes, Sam was never short of attracting attention but she’d discovered that being pretty wasn’t necessarily an advantage. The interest she attracted tended to be shallow and the end goal blatantly obvious.

      ‘Before you go, dear...do you think you could bring me a bedpan? I’ve been dying to have a wee for ages now.’

      Sam turned back, the curtain still bunched in her hand. ‘Of course, Dottie.’ She pulled the curtain closed again. ‘There should be one under the bed. Yes, here it is. Let me help you...we need to be careful not to move the pillows supporting your leg.’

      With the covered bedpan in her hand, Sam left Dottie’s cubicle to head towards the sluice room a few minutes later. She swerved to avoid a phlebotomist and her trolley, which put her in line with the doors to the ambulance bay that were sliding open.

      ‘Move,’ someone barked at her.

      An alarmed glance showed an unusual scenario. She might have expected uniformed ambulance officers pushing a trolley at speed after a command like that but this was different.

      Very different.

      A tall man, wearing jeans and cowboy boots, with a tumble of dark wavy hair that reached his shoulders was coming in at almost a run. He had a baby in his arms. People behind him were running to keep up with his long strides. A distraught-looking woman. And... Harriet? She should be heading upstairs to start her shift in ICU, surely?

      Not that she had any time to wonder what was going on. This was clearly a father on a mission to help his sick baby and Sam did, indeed, have to get out of his way. Her long, blonde ponytail swung wildly as she leapt aside—straight into the path of the phlebotomist’s trolley. Racks of glass test tubes rattled and toppled to crash to the floor. A box of vacuum tubes followed, to open and spill its contents over a surprisingly large area. Sam herself was knocked off balance. Not enough to fall onto broken glass, fortunately, but it was enough to send the bedpan in her hands flying. Contact with the floor also spilled its contents and all Sam could do for a moment was stare in absolute horror, a hand instinctively coming up to cover her gaping mouth.

      The noise made heads turn from every direction, including the man who was now past Sam, on his way to one of the major resuscitation areas. She could feel his appalled glare so strongly she had to turn her head and, for a heartbeat, his gaze held hers.

      Dark, dark eyes.

      An incredulous gaze. As if he simply couldn’t believe that anyone in this department could be so incredibly incompetent. As if his faith in people here being able to help his baby had just been dealt a devastating blow.

      And then he was gone.

      And there were voices all around Sam.

      ‘Stand back. Stay away from the broken glass.’

      ‘Someone get a mop.’

      ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t even see you...’ The young phlebotomist was looking close to tears.

      ‘It was my fault. I jumped back without looking. I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Just move,’ a senior nurse snapped, ‘so we can get this mess cleaned up.’

      The young technician pulled her trolley clear and muttered something about needing more test tubes as she fled. A member of the domestic staff was already here with a bucket and mop. Sam snatched up the bedpan and kept going towards the sluice room. If nothing else, a quieter space would give her a moment to get over what felt like humiliation.

      She couldn’t help a sideways glance as she passed the resuscitation area. The curtains weren’t completely closed. She could see Harriet in there, with her arm around a sobbing woman. She could see the baby on the bed and staff members busy. Someone had wrapped a tiny blood pressure cuff around an arm and was sliding an oxygen saturation probe onto a finger. Someone else was attaching ECG electrodes. Weirdly, the baby’s father—who looked like he’d just come from a gig with his rock band—was standing at the head of the bed, where the person responsible for the airway was supposed to stand. And someone was handing him a stethoscope.

      What the heck?

      She dropped the disposable bedpan into the rubbish and then turned on the taps over the huge sink to wash her hands. She took her time, using a lot of soap and then paper towels to prolong the process a little longer. Like that young technician, she was fighting an urge to cry.

      Her first day on her new job, when all she’d hoped for was to perform well enough to make it obvious that she would be a valuable team member and all she’d done was to make people think she was totally incompetent. Clumsy at best. A liability at worst. She was an emergency department nurse, for heaven’s sake. She should be able to cope with an unfolding crisis in her sleep, not jump like a startled deer just because someone was rushing towards her and barking like a guard dog.

      Sam took a deep breath and then lifted her chin.

      She had patients assigned to her care and she was going to go back and do her job. And, on her way back, she would apologise to the charge nurse, Emily.

      ‘It was an accident.’ Emily actually smiled when Sam spoke to her. ‘Unfortunate timing but I saw what happened and I can’t blame you for getting a fright. It’s not like Blake to speak to people like that but he was under a fair bit of stress. He’d just resuscitated that baby out in the car park.’

      ‘Blake?’