He was gone in an instant, and Jonah smiled ruefully at her. ‘It looks like you’re stuck with me again, Miss Bryce.’
‘I think I can stand that.’ She chuckled. ‘And, please, call me Maddie.’
‘Only if you call me Jonah. And, please, no jokes about whales, sinking ships or bringers of bad luck,’ he added. ‘Believe me, I’ve heard them all.’
‘You think a girl christened Madison is in any position to take cheap shots at your name?’ Maddie protested, and the specialist registrar laughed as he began tapping a series of numbers into the keypad on the neonatal unit door.
‘We change the security code once a month,’ he explained. ‘Fiona used to think up the combination based on birthdays and anniversaries so I guess it’s your job now. It’s a sad indictment of our society that we need a security system, but…’
What was even sadder—pathetic, really—was the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia she experienced when the door of the unit swung open. It had been two years since she’d worked in an NICU and yet it could have been yesterday. The smell of antiseptic, the overpowering heat because premature babies lost heat more quickly than full-term ones, even the cork board covered with baby photographs left by grateful parents—everything was so familiar.
‘Lynne, this is our new secretary, Maddie Bryce,’ Jonah declared, breaking into her reverie when a small, middle-aged nurse appeared. ‘Maddie, this is Lynne Howard, our ward manager, and the best nursing sister in the Belfield.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Jonah.’ The sister laughed. ‘Good to have you on board, Maddie.’
‘Everything OK this afternoon?’ the specialist registrar asked.
‘Nice and quiet apart from Baby Ralston. We’ve just finished his obs and as Gabriel has ruled out the bradycardia being caused by a heart defect I’d say we’re looking at possible apnoea.’
‘I’ll set up a pneumogram and—’
‘You’d like a coffee.’
‘I’m getting predictable.’ Jonah sighed, and the sister grinned.
‘Nah, you’re just a caffeine addict. Maddie, would you like a coffee?’
‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all, and sorry about the medical jargon,’ Lynne continued as Jonah disappeared through the door marked SPECIAL CARE. ‘Bradycardia—’
‘Is an abnormal slowing of the heart rate, and apnoea is when a baby simply “forgets” to breathe. I used to be a nurse,’ Maddie added as the sister’s eyebrows rose. ‘An NICU sister to be exact, but I have children to look after, so…’
Lynne nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s the hours, isn’t it? Never knowing for certain what days you’ll be working—even what shifts. I’m actually leaving the unit myself soon,’ she continued, ushering Maddie through to her small office and switching on the kettle. ‘My husband has been offered a job in New Zealand so in four months time it’s goodbye Glasgow and hello to the land of the long white cloud.’
‘You must be really excited,’ Maddie observed, and the sister sighed as she spooned coffee into two mugs.
‘Part of me thinks, wow, what a great opportunity for my husband, our kids, but the other part…It’s going to be a real wrench leaving my friends, a job I love, but…’ She shrugged. ‘I guess family always comes first.’
Always, Maddie thought.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ Lynne continued, moving a pile of files from a chair so Maddie could sit down, ‘but I’m a nurse short this afternoon. Sister Sutherland had a family problem.’
Maddie’s cheeks reddened. ‘I’m afraid I’m the problem. Nell’s my cousin,’ she explained as Lynne stared at her, confused. ‘I needed somebody to look after the kids when they came home from school and Nell knew I couldn’t get a sitter…’
‘Then you’re the Maddie. The one Nell’s always talking about—Charlie and Susie’s aunt?’
Maddie nodded and to her surprise Lynne’s face lit up with delight.
‘Nell is going to be so pleased you got the job. She’s been stressing for days about you going for an interview, but she wouldn’t tell us where the interview was. Do you want to phone her—give her the good news? There’s a phone downstairs in the communal staff room that we can use for personal calls.’
‘Thanks, but I’d rather tell her when I get home.’ When I can also ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, telling me Gabriel Dalgleish was an OK sort of a neonatologist.
Which brought her to something she very much wanted to ask Lynne, but asking a ward manager whether her boss had been born a complete dickhead or whether he’d just worked hard to become one didn’t seem like a wise move.
‘How long has Mr Dalgleish been head of the department?’ she said instead, after Lynne had made the coffee.
‘Almost three years.’
‘He seems…‘Maddie paused to choose her words carefully. ‘Very focused.’
The sister stirred her coffee for a second. ‘His aim is to make our department not just the best in Glasgow, but the best in Scotland.’
‘Ambitious,’ Maddie observed, stirring her own coffee equally deliberately. ‘What’s he like as a surgeon?’
‘I’ve lost count of the number of preemies he’s pulled back from the brink when the rest of us had given up hope, and to watch him operate is an education.’
‘That good, huh?’
‘What Gabriel doesn’t know about preemies could be written on a postage stamp.’ Lynne put down her spoon and met Maddie’s gaze. ‘He is also, without exception, the biggest, coldest, out-and-out bastard it’s ever been my misfortune to work for.’
‘Thought so,’ Maddie said, and the ward manager chuckled.
‘He’s wonderful with the babies but when it comes to interacting with people…It’s like there’s something missing. He just can’t—or won’t—see that people have feelings, needs, even homes they might occasionally want to go to. And don’t ever disagree with him. If you do—’
‘I’m mincemeat?’
‘Got it in one.’
‘Sounds like I’m in for a fun six months,’ Maddie said ruefully, and Lynne grinned.
‘Welcome to Alcatraz.’
The unit felt like a prison, too, when Gabriel eventually joined them. One minute Jonah, Lynne and the neonatal nurses were laughing and joking, and the next…Iceberg time, and the ridiculous thing was that Maddie knew it didn’t have to be like that. A happy atmosphere didn’ t necessarily mean a slack ward, but convincing Gabriel Dalgleish of that? She’d have more success convincing Nell that she’d never be thin no matter how many crazy diets she tried.
A scowl creased Maddie’s forehead. Which reminded her. She had a bone to pick with her cousin. A big one.
‘Maddie, I knew you were looking for work, and if I’d told you he was the boss from hell you would never have applied for the job,’ Nell protested, gazing longingly at the contents of the cookie jar for a second before helping herself to an apple instead. ‘Some people like him.’
‘Name one.’
‘OK, all right, nobody likes him,’ her cousin admitted, then smiled as the kitchen door opened. ‘Hey, kids, your clever auntie’s got herself a job.’
‘Does