‘You deal with that around here?’ She shook her head. She hadn’t even considered anything like that. And she didn’t know the first thing about decompression sickness.
He nodded slowly. ‘It would surprise you, but we have a lot of diving in and around the island, and along the Scottish coast. But don’t worry, there’s an on-call hyperbaric consultant at Aberdeen Hospital. He’s the expert in all these things.’
They continued along the corridor and Gemma tried not to let the panic on her face show. She really hadn’t realised the realm of expertise that would be required to work in an island community. At this rate she was going to have to go back into student mode and start studying again. They’d reached the single ward in the hospital. Logan pointed through the glass.
‘Sixteen beds, with patients that we normally reassess on a daily basis. It’s kind of like a mix between a medical ward and an elderly care ward. Lots of chest conditions and confusion due to low oxygen saturation. We have good permanent nursing staff that are more than capable of dealing with any emergency. They re-site drips, give IV antibiotics and other meds, order X-rays and can intubate during an arrest.’ He pointed down the corridor.
‘There are also a few side rooms if required and an A and E department that is chaotic during the summer.’
Gemma’s eyes widened a little. ‘How is that staffed?’ His stomach curled a little. This woman could practically see things coming from a million miles away.
‘It has its own doctor, a couple of nurse practitioners and some regular nursing staff.’ He pointed to a rota on the wall. ‘If the A and E doctor isn’t busy, he would deal with any issue with the ward patients. If not, we get called out.’ He could tell from the expression on her face that she was worried. ‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen too often.’
She nodded slowly. ‘I knew there would be occasional callouts because I was covering one day a week for the GP practice. I guess I’ll just need to bring Isla with me.’
Darn it. He hadn’t considered her little girl when he’d persuaded her to work three days a week in the GP practice for the next six weeks. Her job as a paediatric consultant two days a week wouldn’t have included any on-call services. He’d only been thinking of the needs of the practice, not the needs of a single parent and her five-year-old daughter. With one step he’d just trebled her chances of being called out.
He smacked his hand on his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Gemma. I hadn’t even considered Isla. We’ll need to have a look at the rota.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s not much you can do. It’s only for the next six weeks. I guess I’ll just have to cope.’
But the guilt was gnawing away at him. He hadn’t been entirely truthful as he’d given her the tour. Isla just hadn’t entered into his radar at all.
This was the problem with being a single guy with no other responsibilities. Work was his only real consideration in life. Once he had that covered, he didn’t think about much else. ‘Yeah, well, about that...’
‘What?’ Her eyes had widened, giving him an even better view of just what a warm brown they were. She was much smaller than him, maybe around five feet two or three? The kind of small woman that men like him usually wanted to protect. It was instinctual.
But he had the strangest feeling that Gemma Halliday was the kind of woman that didn’t want to be protected. She was more likely to kick you in the groin than cower in a corner.
‘How about I show you where the canteen is in here?’ He tried to guide her along the corridor. From the look of her small frame, the chances were slim that he could fob her off with coffee and cake but it was worth a try.
* * *
Gemma was suspicious. She could practically see Logan Scott shuffling his feet like some nervous teenager waiting to tell you that they’d smashed the car or broken a window. He’d been quite straightforward up until this point, so she had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t like what he had to say.
She let him guide her down the corridor towards the canteen. Coffee sounded good right about now. The hospital set-up looked fine. It was old, but it was clean and functional. The patients in the ward looked well cared for. The staff around here seemed efficient.
It was obvious she wouldn’t find the latest state-of-the-art technology here but, then again, why would she need it? They had X-ray facilities and an ultrasound scanner. An emergency theatre that she hoped she would never see the inside of, and a way to transport the sickest patients off the island.
Logan pushed open the door in front of them and held it open. It took around two seconds for her senses to be assaulted by the smell of prime-time baking. ‘Wow. What do they make in here?’
He pointed at the counter. ‘Della makes cakes every day. And you can make requests if you find a favourite and want it on a particular day.’
She couldn’t help but smile. ‘And what’s your request?’
His answer was instant. ‘The carrot cake...or the cheese scones...or the strawberry tarts—they’re giant. Not like the ones you would buy elsewhere.’
They’d reached the counter. It was clear that anyone who set foot in here wouldn’t want to leave. Piles of freshly baked scones and crumpets, some tray bakes and a whole array of cakes. Gemma didn’t hesitate, she leaned over and picked up a fruit scone. It was still warm. She could practically taste it already.
‘What kind of coffee?’ Logan was poised at the coffee machine. Gemma pointed at the china mugs he was holding.
‘What, no plastic cups?’
He shook his head in mock disgust. ‘On Arran? Not a chance. Everything is served in china over here.’
‘I’ll have a latte, thanks.’
She waited until he’d filled the two cups and they settled at a table, looking out across the hospital gardens, which were trimmed, neat with lots of colourful flower beds.
Gemma started cutting open her scone and spreading butter and jam. ‘What? Never seen a woman eat before, Logan? Stop gawping.’
He smiled as he started on his carrot cake. ‘You don’t look like the kind of girl that eats cakes.’
There it was again. His directness. Sneaking in when you least expected it. ‘Because I’m small?’
He sipped his cappuccino and wrinkled his nose. It was obvious he was trying to wind her up a little. Playing with her. Obviously hoping to soften her up for what was to come. ‘You’re not small, Gemma. You’re vertically challenged.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’
‘Yip.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s my professional opinion.’ His long legs stretched out under the table, brushing next to her own. What was that? That little tremor of something she’d just felt? It had been so long since she’d had time to even have a man on her radar that she didn’t even know how these things worked these days.
His shirt was pale blue, almost like a thin denim, with a few wrinkles around the elbows and open at the collar, revealing some light curling hairs.
She was trying to place who he looked like. But the tiny blond tips of his hair were throwing her. That was it. He needed a captain’s uniform. He looked like that new young guy they’d drafted in for the latest Star Trek movie. If his hair was only the tiniest shade darker he could be a clone.
She took a bite of the scone. Just as she’d suspected. Delicious. She leaned back in her chair. ‘I think I’m just about to put on two stone.’
He smiled. ‘The food here is good. If you have any special requests or dietary issues, just let them know.’
She raised her eyebrow. ‘Dietary