Doctor Knows Best Read Free Page B

everything he had said was right. The department had got a little slack, for there had not been a consultant in charge since the previous one had retired nine months earlier. Having been saddled with two completely green senior house officers had not helped much either. Normally there was one experienced SHO to show the new one the ropes, but this year… Megan sighed. Perhaps she should have explained that to him.
    Mentally she gave herself a shake. Oh well, no use worrying about it, she thought resignedly—tomorrow is another day. Her normally cheerful spirits bubbled to the surface as she threw herself wholeheartedly at last into the rehearsal.
    Rather reluctantly she allowed herself to be persuaded into participating in a saucy sketch which involved playing the part of a patient, very provocatively dressed in brief bra and pants. The idea was that every night the students would drag one of the senior consultants up from the audience and on to the stage, and make him plaster her leg. The plaster of Paris bandage would be “doctored” so that it embarrassingly fell to pieces when he tried to use it and Megan’s role was to flirt outrageously with the consultant and make his task even more difficult.
    They practised it and Megan didn’t mind too much. It was all good fun, and she knew from past experience that, however much they protested, the senior consultants were always flattered at being hauled out of the audience. They knew when they bought their tickets that there was more than a fifty-fifty chance that they would actively participate in the proceedings before the evening drew to a close.
    By the time the rehearsal finished it was way past midnight and Megan was glad that she had brought her car and not walked or caught a bus. They had been using the lecture theatre at the medical school which was about four miles away from the hospital in the centre of the city. On arrival back at the hospital she parked her ancient little Mini in the car park nearest to the nurses’ home and started to walk briskly towards the tower block.
    It was an intensely cold night. Her breath was like puffs of steam in the bitterly cold air as she blew on her fingers in a vain attempt to keep them warm, wishing she had had the foresight to have worn some gloves. The first frost of winter tonight she thought, stepping into the pool of light at the entrance to Casualty. Because it was so cold she decided to take a short cut to the nurses’ home, which meant crossing in front of the department entrance. The large red letters, CASUALTY, illuminated by the floodlights, stood out clearly, a signpost to anyone needing treatment.
    She had just started her walk across the forecourt where the ambulances drew up when, to her astonishment, she saw the obviously very weary figure of Giles Elliott come out. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and hunched his shoulders against the biting cold of the night air. Megan started. Surely he couldn’t have been working continuously since she had left at five-thirty? Slowing her stride she hung back, hoping he wouldn’t see her, but he did almost immediately.
    â€œYou’re not going to get much sleep tonight, Sister,” he remarked. Megan thought his voice sounded tired but friendly—or was the friendly part her imagination?
    â€œOh, I’ve been at rehearsal,” she heard herself explaining. “It’s the medical students’ revue and I’ve got roped into it.” She laughed. “I must need my head examined, getting involved with that crazy lot!”
    â€œI suppose that young man who spoke to you at lunch-time is in it,” he said.
    â€œOh yes, of course,” replied Megan enthusiastically. “He is one of the leading lights.”
    â€œI can imagine,” came the wry reply. Then, to Megan’s consternation, he put his hands either side of his head on his temples.
    â€œAre you all right?” she asked hesitantly.