Asking around the staff over the course of the evening, nobody came forward to claim it. Time passed quickly as the evening drew to a close and when the night shift arrived, Kate was more than ready to go home.
Monday morning was run of the mill: broken toes, sprained wrists and cut fingers. The sort of day where you could check your brain in at the door and cruise on through on autopilot. The gloom Kate had been feeling since her grandfather’s funeral had lifted and apart from the barely audible calling of a lonely heart searching for a home, life was not too bad.
At break time, Kate headed to the canteen with a friend from general surgery. They were talking about the weekend when from behind them came a gruff-sounding voice.
“Nurse Heath.”
Kate stopped in her tracks, instantly recognising the abrupt tone of Mr Elliott. Maisie looked round and Kate braced herself for what was to come, but refused to turn around to face him.
“Kate,” came a warmer note from much closer to hand.
Kate turned around and there before her stood Mr Elliott. No ice in his eyes this time, but instead, a searching expression. “I understand you may have found my pen?” he asked.
For a moment Kate was bewildered and then the penny dropped. “Oh, yes,” she said, reaching into her pocket and she pulled out the shiny silver pen she had discovered in A&E. She looked at it and then held it out and Mr Elliott took it. They touched, and as his hand moved over hers, caressing her sensitive fingers with his own, a charge of adrenaline shot up her arm, her stomach began to tremble and her chest struggled to breathe. Their eyes met and in that splinter of a moment, something brilliant shone out between them. Kate pulled back, disturbed by her reaction and saw the self-same look in his eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said. “This pen is very important to me.” He hesitated for a moment as if about to elaborate further, but then he turned and walked away.
Kate took a deep breath, calming her heartbeat a little before turning back in the direction she had been heading, her feelings quite at odds with the sensations of his touch.
Maisie was instantly curious. “What were you doing with Mr Elliott’s pen?” she asked, a broad grin on her face and her raised eyebrows suggesting all kinds of mischief.
“Nothing,” Kate said quickly as she continued briskly on down the corridor, not looking to either side. “I found it last week. I didn’t know whose it was. He must have left it in A&E when he came down for that mangled arm.”
“You’re blushing; you know that? I thought you hated him? That’s what Jenny said,” Maisie told her.
“What?”
“But then Kirst said you thought he was gay.”
“I did no such thing,” Kate heard herself exclaim. She deliberately hushed her voice in the hope that Maisie would follow suit and repeated the sentence quietly.
“But you did have a bust-up with him?”
“Yeah.”
“And you still wouldn’t shag him if he was the last man on earth?”
“I think that’s a fairly safe bet, Maisie, yes, but you’re missing the point. I didn’t know it was his pen. I was just tidying up.”
“Kirst’s with you, you know?”
“What?”
“About Elliott’s unshagability.”
“Maisie!”
“But she thinks he just can’t get it up. She says he never makes a pass at any women and he’s not trendy enough to be gay, so he must just be a cold fish.”
Kate was mortified. She didn’t like the chap, not on any level, but it was quite breath-taking how quickly rumour could spread inside a hospital. “I never said he was gay,” she hissed. “Look, can we talk about something else?”
The change in Elliott’s tone had unsettled Kate profoundly. She found it hard to get the look he had given her, when their hands had touched, out of her mind. He had looked as surprised as she with the shock that rippled through them, confused even by the sensation. Kate would have assumed she had been the only one who’d felt it, but for that look. And then a thought drifted through her mind. He had known her first name. Perhaps he had found it out when he’d complained to her boss about her the previous week, or maybe it was in Resus the other day, but he had definitely called her by her name, ‘Kate’.
In the canteen, Kate finished her piece of cake and she and Maisie were getting up to leave when a gorgeous doctor walked in. It was crowded in there and so Kate managed to catch his attention as he stood with his tray just beyond the till, searching the room for somewhere to sit. Heads were turning all around as whispers filtered through the air to Kate’s ears. Kate pointed to her table as they picked up their things. The doctor walked over and smiled. Wow, she thought, so that was what all the fuss was about. This had to be the guy. He really did have a winning smile, and such amazing eyes, Kate was almost tempted to stay.
“We’re just leaving,” she said, not giving herself more time to reflect.
“Thank you. You’re sure you won’t join me?” he asked, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Maisie started to sit down again, but Kate stopped her.
“No. We’ve got to get back. Thanks, though.” She smiled at the guy who really was very handsome.
“I guess I’ll see you around then?” he asked, his eyes shining with expectation.
Kate nodded and smiled at him. Where was Flis when she needed her? “I expect so,” she said and then dragged Maisie away.
That night, in bed, Kate thought about the new doctor. He seemed like a kind, decent guy who also happened to be seriously good looking, but try as she might, she couldn’t get Elliott out of her head. She was still angry with him. He was an unfeeling, arrogant bully, but there was something about him…
The following day, Kate escorted a little girl up to the children’s ward and was horrified to find out just how far the rumours had spread. As she was leaving the ward Kate heard a couple of auxiliary nurses chatting in the cloakroom about Mr Elliott. She heard her name and the expression: ‘doesn’t know what it’s for’ snuck out around the door and Kate paused, guilt climbing high in her chest, but she was at least a little relieved to hear that she had been quoted correctly that time. But if it had got round as far as the children’s ward it must be everywhere by now. She was beginning to regret ever talking about the guy whilst drinking and just hoped the grapevine didn’t spread so far that it would come back around to bite her.
Wednesday afternoon, Kate was down to assist the registrar in minor ops clinic, so with mask and gloves on, she set up theatre for the afternoon’s list.
First there was a hand injury, brought in from A&E that morning, which needed the tendons exploring and suturing closed. Second on the list was a large sebaceous cyst from behind an old man’s ear and the third was a lad who had been brought in from X-ray. He had been caught up in a pub fight a couple of nights before and had come in when his arm continued to be painful. There was glass to remove and the wound to explore and clean out and it was during this third operation, with her concentration entirely on the matter in hand, that Mr Elliott stuck his head around the door of Theatre, looking for Mr Cobham.
Kate was a little shaken by the sudden arrival of Mr Elliott in her calm, clean environment. Dr Penn, the Registrar, barely looked up from what he was doing. He didn’t know, and after a brief glance in her direction, Mr Elliott withdrew. But Kate knew where Mr Cobham was and she wrestled with her conscience, lacking the will to speak up. He wouldn’t recognise her with a mask on, surely?
“He’s