He masked his expression quickly, but not before Dani had seen it. He’d obviously realised what her game plan was, and he couldn’t think of a decent excuse that would work for two whole weeks.
Gotcha, she thought in satisfaction.
He took his phone out of his pocket and made a show of checking his diary, though she was pretty sure it wasn’t that full.
‘How about tomorrow?’ he suggested.
‘That’ll be fine, as Hayley’s training with Sam tomorrow night.’ She glared at her cast. ‘Thanks to this.’
‘Uh-huh.’
OK. So he wasn’t going to bite. Anyone else would’ve been polite enough to ask what she’d done to her foot, or at least make a comment. But Alex clearly didn’t want to get into conversation with her. Fair enough. She couldn’t force him to make friends with her. If he wanted to keep himself to himself, that was his decision and it wasn’t her place to try and change it.
‘Thank you. I’ll meet you outside the staffroom tomorrow after our shift,’ she said.
‘Fine,’ he said.
And still he didn’t give her a single smile.
She sighed inwardly, and got on with writing up the case notes from her clinic that morning.
* * *
God, what was wrong with him? Alex wondered as he headed to his own office. Danielle Owens was nice. She’d been friendly right from his first day on the ward, trying to make him feel part of the team, and in response he’d been completely standoffish. Meeting her for a drink tomorrow night to discuss the team’s Christmas meal was the only social invitation he’d accepted in the two months he’d been working at Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital, and that was solely because the head of the department had blithely informed him that his predecessor had been scheduled to organise it with Dani and he was sure that Alex would be happy to step into those shoes, too.
Actually, Alex wasn’t happy about it. At all. But he didn’t have much choice.
Maybe he should’ve taken a longer break. But six months was surely long enough to get your head round the fact that you weren’t who you thought you were, and everything you’d always believed wasn’t true. He needed to stop sulking about it and just get on with things. And he’d really missed his job. At least he knew who he was at work. Alexander Morgan, obstetric consultant.
He shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to start brooding. Or to wonder whether his shortness of temper and foul mood was an early sign of the incurable neurodegenerative disease that the man he now had to think of as his father was suffering from. He had notes to write up, a sandwich to eat, and a clinic to sort out.
* * *
‘OK, Mrs Hamilton—may I call you Judy?’ Dani asked.
The other woman nodded, looking wretched.
‘According to our notes, you’re sixteen weeks pregnant at the moment, and your midwife asked if I could fit you into my clinic today.’
Judy dragged in a breath. ‘Thank you so much for seeing me, Dr Owens.’
‘Call me Dani. And it’s no problem. So tell me how things are going,’ Dani said.
‘It’s awful,’ Judy said. ‘I’ve never felt so ill in my entire life. I can’t keep anything down, even water. I’ve tried everything—sniffing lemons, drinking ginger tea and eating a dry biscuit before I get up in the morning. I’m not doing any cooking, and when I do try to eat it’s things that don’t smell and are high in carbs and not fatty, but I still can’t keep anything down.’
Judy was doing all the right things to help with morning sickness, Dani knew; but what she was suffering from sounded rather more serious than everyday morning sickness.
‘Nothing works, and all I seem to do is throw up all day.’ Judy grimaced. ‘My boss sent me home from work today, saying I had to take a few days off, and there was blood in the vomit last time I threw up. That’s why I called my midwife, because I was so worried.’
‘I’m glad you did. Did the blood look like little streaks?’ Dani asked.
Judy nodded.
‘OK. I know it looks scary but it’s actually quite normal in pregnancy,’ Dani reassured her. ‘When you’ve been sick a lot, the lining of your oesophagus gets irritated and it’s more likely to get a tiny little tear in it, which is why you saw blood. But we really need to get to the bottom of why you’re being sick all the time. Are you OK for me to take a blood sample from you?’
Judy looked slightly nervous. ‘I hate needles, but yes.’
Dani took a sample of blood to check Judy’s electrolytes, renal function and liver function.
‘And can I ask you to get on the scales for me?’ She checked the display. ‘You’ve lost four kilograms since your last check-up.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘It’s completely what I expected, with what you’ve told me about being so sick,’ Dani said, and handed Judy a sample bottle. ‘Can you do me a midstream urine sample, please?’
While Judy was in the toilet, Dani sent the blood tests off. When Judy came back, the urine sample was quite dark, indicating that Judy was dehydrated, and a dipstick test showed signs of ketones, where the body broke down fat instead of glucose for energy.
‘Is it all OK?’ Judy asked.
‘All your symptoms added together are giving me a better picture,’ Dani said. She checked Judy’s notes. ‘When you had your twelve-week scan, the radiographer confirmed there was only one baby.’ And, to Dani’s relief, there was also no indication of a molar pregnancy.
‘And then I was sick on the bed,’ Judy said miserably. ‘Everyone I know says morning sickness goes by twelve weeks, but that was a month ago for me. I feel worse every day, instead of better.’
‘Morning sickness can last for up to twenty weeks,’ Dani said, ‘but in your case I agree with your midwife. I think you have hyperemesis gravidarum—which is a very severe form of morning sickness.’
‘Did I do something wrong to get it?’ Judy asked.
‘No. We don’t actually know what causes it, though it does seem to run in families. Do you know if your mum had it, or do you have a sister who had it?’
Judy shook her head. ‘Mum never said, and I’m an only child.’
‘The most likely cause is hormonal activity, which I know doesn’t help you much,’ Dani said.
‘I feel rotten, but I can live with that as long as the baby’s all right.’ Judy bit her lip. ‘Though I can’t eat anything, so I’m scared the baby’s not getting proper nutrition.’
‘Try not to worry,’ Dani said, and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s very possible that the baby will be smaller than average because of your situation, but we’ll keep a close eye on you. I hope it reassures you to know that being sick isn’t going to hurt your baby—though obviously it’s very miserable for you.’
‘I can’t believe how bad all kinds of things smell, even tins. I can’t stand being on the Tube because of the smell of people’s armpits—and it must be so much worse in summer.’ Judy shuddered at the thought, and retched again.
Dani handed her a tissue. ‘I’m going to admit you to the ward and put you on a drip so we can get some fluids into you,’ she said. ‘We can also give you some medicine that will help to stop the sickness.’
Judy frowned. ‘But won’t