‘I’d be glad to. I’m headed over there now.’ Dr Lombard was a good-looking young man, olive-skinned, with black hair and grey eyes. He wore tailored trousers topped by a palely striped shirt and a subtly patterned tie.
He smiled and put out a hand to Jessie, grasping her fingers warmly in his. ‘I’m Robert,’ he said. ‘If you have any problems or queries, just ask. I expect it will all feel a bit strange to you for the first few days, but we’ll look after you.’
‘Thanks.’ She introduced herself. ‘I’m Jessie.’
She was hoping there would be time for her to get used to her surroundings and maybe meet up with some of the people she was to work with, but as soon as they arrived in the department, a nurse beckoned Dr Lombard over to one of the treatment bays.
‘There’s a little boy in here, a five-year-old, who’s eaten a death apple, we think.’ She frowned. ‘He’s in a bad way. Will you come and take a look at him? His name’s Tyrell Dacosta.’
‘Of course I will, Amanda. Poor little chap.’ He turned to Jessie. ‘Perhaps it’ll help you get settled in if you shadow me for the next hour or so. The boss is busy with another patient or he would have greeted you himself. He asked me to look out for you.’
‘Okay. That sounds like a good idea.’ Jessie couldn’t help feeling anxious about their small patient. She could only hope the fruit didn’t live up to its awful name. It sounded ominous.
Hastily, she followed Robert and the nurse into the treatment room where a small boy lay wrapped in his mother’s arms. He was whimpering and looked wretched, shaking and tearful, with a film of sweat on his brow and cheeks.
Dr Lombard introduced himself and Jessie, and then, as he carefully examined the child, he asked the mother, ‘So you think he’s eaten a fruit of some sort that’s upset him? Did he eat all of it, or just a little?’
‘Most of it.’ The young woman’s face was pale and etched with worry. ‘The tree was growing near the beach where we were walking. I spoke to my doctor on the phone and she said it sounded like manchineel. She told me to get him to drink a couple of glasses of milk and then to bring him straight here.’
She sniffed unhappily, close to tears, and Jessie could understand why she was so upset. There was some blistering in the boy’s mouth and probably in his throat and stomach, too. ‘Tyrell saw one of the apples lying on the ground,’ the woman went on. ‘It smelled good and he said it tasted sweet. I didn’t know what it was so I told him to spit it out but I was too late, he’d already swallowed some of it.’
‘Okay …’ Robert acknowledged her sympathetically and then spoke to the little boy. ‘Did the milk help take some of the pain away?’
Tyrell nodded warily, tears streaking his cheeks.
‘That’s good … Well, the first thing we’ll do is get you a big white tablet to chew on. It will taste a bit chalky but it should help ease the pain even more. Can you do that for me?’
Again the boy nodded.
Jessie said quietly, ‘This chewable tablet—is it a combination of antacid and proton pump inhibitor?’
Robert nodded. ‘Yes, it’s an anti-ulcer treatment. It should coat the damaged tissues and it’ll help reduce the acid in his stomach.’ He frowned and added under his breath, ‘With this type of caustic ingestion there’s always a danger that his throat might swell up, so we need to be aware of that in case he needs to be intubated. In the meantime, I’ll give him an antihistamine injection.’
‘Are you going to admit him?’
‘Yes, I think we should keep an eye on him in case there are any complications.’ He glanced at the nurse, adding, ‘I don’t want him to drink any water for a few hours—we need to let the medication do its work. Maybe a mild sedative will help. I’ll write a prescription.’
A few minutes later, after making sure he had done everything he could to make Tyrell feel more comfortable, Robert glanced at Jessie and said, ‘I have to go and put my notes on computer and deal with some paperwork in the office for a while. You might want to stay behind and talk to Mrs Dacosta and answer any questions she has. Do you think you’ll be all right with that?’
Jessie nodded. ‘Yes, that’s okay. I can explain things to her if there’s anything she doesn’t understand.’
‘Good. I’ll come and find you as soon as I’m done.’
‘Okay.’
Jessie talked to Tyrell and his mother, and after a while the nurse went away to take lab forms over to Pathology, leaving Jessie to try to put the woman’s mind at rest.
Gradually, the little boy became drowsy. ‘I think the medication’s doing the trick,’ Jessie commented quietly, keying in the settings for the intravenous fluid pump. The woman nodded, looking relieved.
A moment later, the door of the treatment room swished open and a man said quietly, ‘Is everything all right in here?’
Jessie froze. Surely not … It couldn’t be … could it? The softly accented voice came from behind her. It sounded horribly familiar, and she turned around in shock, only to have her worst fears confirmed.
Her breath caught in her chest. José Benitez was framed in the doorway, looking impressively tall and strong, clad in dark trousers and a crisp shirt with sleeves folded back to the elbows to reveal well-muscled, tanned forearms.
‘Dr Benitez …’ Her heart sank. How could this be happening? Why did he have to turn up here, of all places? In fact, what was he doing here?
He inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement. His eyes were dark and impenetrable. ‘Dr Heywood— Amanda told me I would find you here.’ His gaze moved over her, taking in her glossy chestnut hair, pinned back with filigree clips, before flicking down over her slender figure. ‘How’s our patient doing?’
Our patient. She scrambled her thoughts together. That sounded as though he belonged here. ‘He’s a bit better, I think.’ She hoped the little boy was going to be all right, but she was still worried about the possibility of complications and the matter of whether the fruit would live up to its name of the death apple. She’d never heard of it and she’d no idea of the devastation it could cause. ‘His pain level’s gone right down and he seems to be comfortable for the moment.’
‘I’m glad.’ He picked up the boy’s chart and scanned it for a few seconds before hooking it over the bed rail once more. ‘It looks as though we’ve caught this in time,’ he murmured. He spoke to the boy’s mother for a few minutes, reassuring her about her son’s condition, and then said softly, ‘Perhaps you’ll excuse us, Mrs Dacosta. I must speak to Dr Heywood for a while, but I promise you the nurse will be back with you shortly.’
Jessie’s heart made a heavy, staccato beat as she stood up to leave the room with him. Her throat closed in a spasm of disbelief. She’d had no idea he was a medical doctor—all this time she’d understood him to be a marine biologist, concerned only with the conservation of the coral reefs in the area. How wrong that assumption had turned out to be.
He led the way to his office, which turned out to be a large, comfortably furnished room with a wide window that overlooked a pleasant landscaped area. Outside, palm trees stood out amongst giant ferns and flowering shrubs planted around a cobbled courtyard.
‘Please, sit down,’ he said, waving her over to an upholstered chair by the pale beech wood desk. ‘May I get you a coffee?’ It was merely a polite, formal offer, a way