Red-Hot Desert Docs. Carol Marinelli

the Eurotunnel to Paris.

      In the morning she would book it.

      It really was time to move on with her life, while still including her mother.

      And she was going to have a holiday romance.

      Absolutely she was.

      She was tired of her lack of a love life and that she was twenty-four years old and still a virgin.

      And, as she went over to the nurses’ station and Zahir didn’t even acknowledge her, she decided was tired of having feelings for someone who thought so little of her.

      He looked immaculate. He was wearing his suit and clearly hoped to get away quickly.

      ‘Zahir,’ Meg asked, ‘is there any chance of you staying back?’

      ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I have to finish at six. Bella is waiting for me to pick her up. We are going to the theatre.’

      Ouch, Adele thought.

      ‘I just need to write up this drug regime and then I’ll have to go,’ he said.

      With all the drama of his mother being sick and settling her into the hotel, as well as the constant calls back home, he had forgotten to tell Bella they were over. Zahir did not want to put it off for even one more night. He would tell her tonight soon after the curtain came down.

      Helene came in then, all ready for staff accreditation too before her night shift.

      The staff rotated, and did two weeks of nights every twelve weeks or so.

      ‘You made it!’ Janet smiled.

      ‘I nearly didn’t.’ Helene gave a dramatic sigh. ‘I took Hayden out for a driving lesson this afternoon and I’ve decided I’d rather pay for an instructor. I actually value my life. Honestly, he’s—’

      ‘Adele.’ Janet halted Helene’s latest rant about her son. ‘Could you get the annual leave roster from my desk?’

      Janet had seen Adele’s eyes shutter.

      It wasn’t Helene’s fault. She didn’t know.

      Few did, but Helene loved to give dramatic blow-by-blow accounts of her day, and with her son just learning to drive, it must be pretty hellish for Adele.

      ‘You know Adele’s mother isn’t well?’ Janet checked with Helene once Adele had gone.

      ‘Yes...’

      ‘She suffered a severe head injury. Adele was at the wheel of the car—she was learning to drive at the time.’

      ‘Oh, no.’ Helene cringed. ‘I didn’t know.’

      ‘Of course you didn’t, she doesn’t really talk about it. Just know that she’s had the most awful time.’

      Zahir said nothing.

      He finished writing up the chart and headed to his office.

      There was Adele coming towards him with the roster.

      ‘Adele...’ he said, but she didn’t stop walking.

      In fact, she brushed past him.

      She was on the edge of tears at what Helene had said and she never broke down. Right now, she knew, Janet would be having a discreet word with Helen. And she was fed up too with Zahir. She was tired of smiling only to never have it returned, and being offered the dream job just to have it snatched away by him had been the final straw.

      At least she hoped that it was.

      She was over him for good.

      Oh, no, she would not turn around.

      ‘Enjoy the theatre,’ she called over her shoulder, and there was a jealous barb in her tone.

      She was cross with him and hurt by him and too weary to not let it show.

      Still, she had a fun couple of hours spent with mannequins being signed off on her CPR technique. Having found out she was going to Paris, Janet had remembered a beret she had in her locker and had put it on Ken, the mannequin, when it was Adele’s turn.

      ‘Ooh, Ken,’ Adele said in a terrible French accent as she knelt over him, ‘Why do you just lie there so still? Let’s get this heart racing...’

      Janet was laughing loudly and then looked up at the open door. ‘Oh, Zahir, I thought you’d gone.’

      ‘I’m just leaving now.’

      She got more reaction out of Ken, Adele thought as, blushing, she massaged his chest.

      The best bit was supper was provided!

      Maria came in and grabbed a couple of sandwiches. ‘I’m about to go home,’ she said. ‘Janet I tried not to admit anyone, but I’ve got a patient that needs to be in the obs ward overnight. Her name is Gladys Williams. She’s eighty and had too much to drink and fell and hit her head. I can’t send her home.’

      ‘Of course not.’ Janet said.

      They were low on staff numbers and would do their best to keep the observation ward closed for as long as possible.

      At nine they hit the ground running.

      Gladys would have to wait to be admitted. For now her gurney was parked in the corridor where the staff could keep an eye on her without her taking up a cubicle or having to open the observation ward.

      She lay there, singing, and didn’t seem to mind at all.

      ‘It’s supposed to be a Tuesday night!’ Helene moaned as the place started to look more like Accident and Emergency on a Saturday after the pubs had turned out than a weeknight.

      A group of young men, all the worse for wear, were creating a bit of a ruckus in the waiting room. The security guards were in there, watching them, as Adele called one of the men through.

      It wasn’t even ten o’clock and the place was full.

      She put on some gloves and peeled back the dressing that the triage nurse had put over his eye.

      ‘Sorry, Oliver,’ she said as he winced. ‘That must hurt.’

      It was a nasty cut and was going to require a lot of stitches.

      Phillip came in and introduced himself and then took a careful look at the wound.

      He was a nice doctor, calm and laid back, and Adele would always remember how kind he had been to her the day he had broken the awful news.

      Phillip never referred to it and Adele was grateful for that.

      Now, though, she understood the tears in his eyes that day. Phillip was very much a family man and he had a daughter close in age to Adele.

      ‘I want to take my time to suture this,’ Phillip told Oliver. ‘Which means you might have to wait for a few hours until I’m able to give it the attention it deserves.’

      The patient nodded.

      ‘For now, Adele will put on a saline dressing to keep it moist. Adele,’ Phillip asked, ‘is the overnight ward open?’

      ‘It’s about to be.’ Adele nodded.

      She was going to take Gladys around after this.

      ‘Well, why don’t we admit you there?’ Phillip said to his patient. ‘You can get some rest and then when the place is quiet I’ll come and suture you.’ He turned to Adele. ‘Hourly obs, please.’

      ‘Sure.’

      Adele started to dress the laceration as Phillip wrote up his notes and then he opened up the curtain to head out to see the next patient.

      It was then Adele heard an angry shout. ‘There he is!’

      It all happened very quickly after that.

      A group of men—not