Once the seed was planted there she just couldn’t shake it off. She’d re-examined every conversation they’d had. The fact he’d offered to sit with Billy to let her take Jill to the canteen. The truth was Jill hadn’t eaten much at all.
But for the first time Jill had agreed to leave Billy’s bedside and have a few hours’ sleep in an actual bed. The NICU had two small rooms—just big cupboards, really—where parents could actually lie down and sleep, then have a shower if they wished. If Harry was examining her care, surely he could see how important it was to take care of mum too?
Billy’s post-op care had been unremarkable, but when she’d read the theatre notes Esther realised just how touch and go it had been for him. Even if she’d initially detested him Harry Beaumont was a skilled surgeon, and looking at the neat clean scar line on Billy’s tiny chest and the way his lungs filled with air every few moments, the scare in Theatre seemed a lifetime away.
Esther’s stomach had churned as she’d made her way to the unit that day. She’d washed her hair and made sure her scrubs were immaculate. Even applying a little more make-up to her still slightly pale face. And that annoyed her too, because she’d always been immaculate at work. So why did it seem even more important that day? In a way she’d almost been annoyed when she realised Harry Beaumont wasn’t there after all. But the annoyance had quickly given way to relief. On a day like today she wanted to be comfortable at work. All her concentration had to be on Billy and his mother. Not on some random, tall, dark and handsome arrogant fool with toffee-coloured eyes.
Heat rushed into her cheeks as she finished another set of Billy’s checks. Where had that thought come from?
Abi nudged her elbow. ‘So, anyway, I was telling you. We’ve found out what branch of royalty our new surgeon has.’ She smiled brightly as if she thought Esther might actually be interested. ‘He’s from your neck of the woods. He’s a duke. From Scotland. The Duke of Montrose.’
Esther wrinkled her nose. ‘There’s nothing Scottish about him. Have you heard that cut-glass accent?’
Abi laughed. ‘What—you don’t have posh people in Scotland?’
Esther had to smile too. ‘Sure we do. But not in my neck of the woods. Anyhow, when these people get titles, it doesn’t mean it relates to where they stay, or where they’re from. The Prince of Wales wasn’t born and brought up in Wales, was he?’
Abi frowned for a second. ‘I guess not.’ She waved her hand as she started to walk away. ‘Anyway, just thought you’d want to know.’
Esther was surprised. ‘Why on earth did you think I’d want to know?’
Abi’s eyebrows rose. ‘Just in case you were plotting a murder. Thought you’d want to know who he is before you kill him.’ She was grinning as she left, but Esther pressed her lips together.
Okay. Abi hadn’t mentioned anything about the day before. But people were clearly talking. At some point she’d expect Harry to appear again and review Billy. If she were lucky, somebody else would be on duty. If not, it was really important that she didn’t give off those vibes. The ones that said, If I was a superhero and had powers, I’d strike you down with my laser vision.
She had to maintain her professional composure. It didn’t matter they’d had a few fallouts. The patients were the most important thing in NICU. It was important that an easy ambience was kept in place. She could be civil. She might not smile, but she could certainly be civil.
‘Hey, Esther, can you take a call from Harry Beaumont? He wants a report on Billy.’
She stiffened and picked up Billy’s chart. ‘Sure.’
It seemed like she’d have to start right now. She picked up the phone from where it was lying on the nurses’ station and did actually smile as she kept things deliberately formal. ‘This is Esther McDonald, Billy’s midwife, can I help you?’
There was a pause at the end of the line. ‘This is Harry Beaumont, the neonatal cardiac surgeon who carried out Billy’s surgery yesterday. Can you give me an update on how he’s doing, please?’
Oh. It seemed that two could play that game.
The smile stayed on her face. She gave Harry a quick rundown on all of Billy’s obs, new blood results, his colour and then…she did what she always did. She told him how she felt. There was something to be said about the instinct of a health professional. She always believed it should never be ignored. Sometimes, even though there was not a single piece of scientific fact, a health professional just seemed to know if a patient was going to go ‘off.’ So many times, their instincts had been correct. Studies had even been done on the phenomenon.
So she went with her gut. ‘Billy’s good. Everything is going well. I think he’s on the road to recovery.’
‘That’s your professional opinion?’ There was something in his tone. She wasn’t quite sure if he was mocking her, or if he actually got it.
‘I have a good feeling,’ she replied.
‘Okay.’ His voice was thoughtful. He paused for a few seconds. ‘Thanks for the update. I should be back by tomorrow. I’ll review him in person then. How’s his mum doing?’
Once again, Esther was a little surprised. The surgeons she’d worked with before generally didn’t take the time to consider the parents. ‘Sleeping,’ she said. ‘For the first time in days. She’s taken a shower and washed her hair too. When she wakes up, I’m going to send her down to the hospital canteen with one of my colleagues to make sure she eats.’
‘Does she really have no supports? Does no one else come to visit Billy?’
Esther’s curiosity was piqued. Not only was he interested, he actually sounded concerned. ‘Not the whole time I’ve been here,’ she said.
‘Hmm…’ She could tell he was thinking. Her brain was whirring. Maybe he wasn’t quite as bad as she’d first thought.
‘Esther, can I just check? Your temperature yesterday, it’s resolved?’
And there it was. Just when she’d finally had a reasonable thought about this man it was like he’d just pulled the rug from under her feet.
In a way she understood the question. His issue was protecting the baby he’d operated on. But the question was intensely personal. Just as well she didn’t have anything to hide.
‘My temperature is resolved.’
‘The reason?’
She bristled. It seemed to be her permanent state when she had any contact with this man. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this about anyone. He was checking up on her—again.
She decided to put all her cards on the table. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t have a respiratory infection.’ If she had, she knew she’d have to have bailed out of the NICU for a few days. There were strict rules adhered to by all the members of staff in the NICU. ‘I have a UTI,’ she added. ‘Long-term history, and I’ve got antibiotics.’
It was too much information. But she wanted this guy off her back. As a health care professional she wasn’t embarrassed to talk about medical conditions. She really didn’t think she had anything to hide.
There was a few moments’ silence at the end of the phone, then his voice sounded deep and husky. ‘I hope you feel better soon, Esther.’
She licked her lips as she put