Chapter 4
4
In the end, it’s nearly a month before Luke’s and my schedules align again and, although I will admit that he haunted my dreams quite a lot after our first meeting and my conversation with Mike, he’s gradually faded from my consciousness over time, so I was caught a little off guard when I saw him in the flesh again. In fact, I blushed slightly when our eyes met during the handover briefing. The good news is that he’s just as good-looking as he was the last time I saw him. I’m trying very hard not to stare at his biceps as the outgoing team take us through the patients in each bay, but it’s hard not to when they keep flexing as he makes notes on his pad.
Thankfully, the fast pace of A anyone who has found themselves on the receiving end of his wrath when they haven’t followed his instructions to the letter will testify that he can bawl you out with the best of them. As far as I can see, Luke seems oblivious to this fact, and I have a nasty suspicion he’s misinterpreting Dr Rogers’s outwardly calm demeanour as a ‘laissez-faire’ attitude and cutting a few corners. I’ve already seen some raised eyebrows from the nurses when he’s made decisions without consulting Dr Rogers first. I’m also certain that, if Dr Rogers hasn’t noticed it yet, he will before the end of the shift.
I’m wondering whether I should say anything to him when the red phone rings to alert us of an incoming trauma case. A young man has fallen off some scaffolding and somehow impaled himself on a railing. The fire brigade has cut him free, but he’s understandably not in a good way. He’ll need to go to theatre for an emergency operation to remove it, but not until we’ve assessed and stabilised him.
‘Get to your stations, everyone,’ Dr Rogers commands as the ambulance pulls up outside. ‘Dr Milne, although this will probably be a fascinating training exercise for you, I need someone looking after our other patients so I’m going to release you. Any issues, come and find me, OK?’
‘Yes, Dr Rogers,’ Luke replies, but the disappointment is obvious on his face. Traumas such as this are thankfully rare, so I can see why he’d want to be part of the team. However, Dr Rogers is right. We can’t leave the rest of the A barely ten minutes pass before they’re both back in the unit. Dr Rogers is his usual affable self, although I notice Luke is looking rattled, and is carefully running every decision past him.
‘I’m parched,’ I tell Luke when my break time comes around. ‘I’m heading to the canteen for a cup of tea. Do you want me to bring you anything?’
‘I’ll come with you, if that’s OK. I’m due a break as well.’
‘Sure. I’ll be glad of the company.’ Although he’s clearly trying to put a brave face on it, I can tell the encounter with Dr Rogers has upset him as he seems distracted.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I ask after a while, putting on my best sympathetic voice.
‘So you know, then?’ he replies with a sigh.
‘I don’t know what the problem was, but I know you had a conversation with Dr Rogers and, given the way you were summoned and the way you’ve behaved since, it’s pretty clear it didn’t go well.’
Luke says nothing, sipping his tea and staring at me in that intense way he has. I’m just starting to wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing when he finally speaks.
‘I don’t understand why he was so upset,’ he says eventually. ‘All I did was try to keep everything running while you were all dealing with Spike, and he tore me off a strip because I hadn’t asked him about a couple of things first.’
‘Spike?’
‘The guy with the railing sticking out of him. That’s what we called him.’
‘I see. Good name. Can I give you a piece of advice?’
‘You can give it,’ he tells me, taking another sip of his tea. ‘I don’t have to follow it.’
‘You don’t,’ I agree, ‘but I think things will turn out a lot better for you if you do. Believe it or not, you’re not the first person this has happened to. I think most of us have fallen foul of a consultant at some point. Is it nice being shouted at? Of course not, but you have to remember they’re under a huge amount of pressure. They earn the big money because they are responsible for everything that goes on in the department during their watch. You amputate the wrong leg, Dr Rogers will be the one in front of the trustees and relatives, having to explain himself.’
‘I wouldn’t amputate a leg,’ he says, and I’m relieved to see he’s smiling again. ‘We’d send them to theatre for that.’
‘You know what I mean. If any one of us cocks up, it’s the consultant’s head on the block. That’s why they’re so obsessive about knowing exactly what’s going on.’
‘I still think it was excessive.’
‘Maybe, but think about this strategically. He’s a highly respected consultant and you’re still the new boy to an extent. Nobody likes being told off, but you were technically in the wrong, weren’t you?’
‘So you’re saying I should just suck it up?’
‘In this case, yes. You know what it’s like down there; we all need to be able to trust each other implicitly. We might have to be inventive sometimes, but when that happens we’re inventive as a team, not as individuals.’
‘If you say there’s no “I” in “team”, I’m leaving.’ His smile broadens.
‘Oh, I’ve got a little book of clichés specifically for occasions like this,’ I assure him.
We sip our tea for a few moments in silence, but I can tell something is still niggling at him.
‘Spit it out,’ I urge.
‘Sorry?’
‘There’s still something bothering you. What is it?’
He sighs. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m a qualified doctor. How come he trusts you more than me?’
It takes me a moment to digest the meaning behind his question and, when I do, my hackles rise. ‘What, given that I’m “just” a nurse? Is that what you’re saying?’
He obviously realises his mistake as he hastily tries to backtrack. ‘No, that’s not what I meant at all. It’s just galling because I have a lot to bring to the table, and I feel he’s not listening to me at all. Dr Patel doesn’t, either.’
‘It’s A&E,’ I tell him firmly, trying to disguise how pissed off I am. ‘Nobody gives a fuck how clever you are or what qualifications you have. At least, not at your level. You have to earn your voice. Dr Rogers trusts me because I’ve been around for a long time and he knows he can rely on me. Whatever you did today proves that he can’t rely on you, and that’s the damage you have to undo. It’s like flying an airliner?—’
‘Sorry, what’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I used to go out with a pilot,’ I tell him. ‘Naturally, I had a few questions about what really goes on in the flight deck when they’ve closed and locked the door, and he told me two things that I thought crossed over into what we do. The first is, it’s really important not to be a dickhead. You’re working long days in a confined space, so you need to get on with each other. The second is about fire. When an engine catches fire, you’d expect the pilots to be scrabbling around doing everything they can to put it out. But they don’t. They take their time, cross-checking every step, because if someone accidentally empties the fire extinguisher into the wrong engine, a bad day is suddenly going to get a whole lot worse. Trauma team is a lot like that. You don’t just stab the patient with random implements. You work together, communicate, act methodically.’
He smiles again. ‘So you’re saying don’t be a dickhead?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. We’d better get back.’
‘One final question. What happened to the pilot?’
‘He worked shifts, I work shifts. We hardly ever saw each other. It fizzled out. It’s a shame really, because I did enjoy the perks. You can get flights for practically nothing if you know a pilot.’
‘Tilly?’ he asks a few minutes later as we make our way along the corridors towards A&E.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘For implying that you were somehow lesser. That’s not how I meant it to come across. I am in awe of your work, actually.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, blushing slightly at the compliment. ‘Apology accepted.’
As we approach the unit, I’m trying to decide whether I want to raise the topic of him inviting me out, but in the end I decide there’s nothing to lose from just talking about it.
‘Can I ask you a question now?’ I say.
‘Sure.’
‘Last time we worked together, you asked me out for a drink. Were you expecting it to be just me?’
Now it’s his turn to blush. ‘I was, actually.’
‘I see. Sorry that I misread you. I’ll bear it in mind if it happens again.’ I know I was planning to ask him out, but on reflection I’m not sure I want to right now. He’s lost several brownie points during our previous conversation, so he can make the running if he’s interested.
‘So it would be OK if it happened again?’ he asks.
It’s my turn to smile. ‘I wouldn’t file a complaint. Put it like that.’
He stops walking and turns to me. ‘Look, Tilly. I really like you and I’d love to get to know you better. I’ve got to go straight home after work today because Mum needs me, but would it be OK if I took your mobile number so I could text you another time?’
‘Sure,’ I tell him. ‘I’d like that.’