Doctor's Orders Read Free Page B

impenetrable than ever.
    Knowing that her cheeks were stained a guilty red, she tried to regain her composure, and tilting her head back defiantly, her brilliant blue eyes challenged his steely grey ones. “You know what they say,” she said, forcing a nonchalance she didn’t feel into her voice.
    â€œWhat?” he snapped curtly. “What do they say?”
    â€œEavesdroppers never hear good of themselves!” With that verbal dart, she turned back to her lunch, but Mike Blakeney was not to be deterred.
    â€œI was not eavesdropping,” he said coolly, “your penetrating Scots accent is difficult to miss!” Without waiting for a reply he walked swiftly away.
    â€œRound one to him, I think!” said Sally with a giggle.
    Isabel looked at her crossly. “If you think I’m going to engage in a sparring match with him, you are mistaken,” she snapped, “I just can’t be bothered.”
    â€œPity,” remarked Cliff Peterson with a laugh, “I have a feeling you would be a good match for him. I thought that this morning, when you stood up to old Goldsmith. He usually reduces most nurses to tears.”
    â€œNo man will ever reduce me to tears,” said Isabel, vehemently. Perhaps it was a little too vehement, because for a split second there was silence at the table as everyone looked at her.
    â€œA women’s libber, eh?” enquired Cliff, raising his eyebrows.
    â€œNot particularly,” said Isabel firmly, “I just don’t like bullies that’s all. It doesn’t matter to me whether they are male or female.”
    â€œGood for you,” he said with a grin, “a girl after my own heart.”
    There wasn’t much more time for chat, as the hour between the morning and afternoon operating lists soon passed. Before long Isabel was back in the quiet, orderly atmosphere of the anaesthetic room and operating theatre.
    Mike Blakeney had been so curt and taciturn in the morning that Isabel had not thought it possible for him to be more so. But somehow he contrived to be just that! He was brusque to the point of making Isabel long to throw the drug ampoules at him when he asked for a drug, but her professionalism prevented that, even though she was sorely tempted.
    The rest of the afternoon passed fairly uneventfully, Isabel even getting used to her silent, moody-looking colleague. The patients came and went in a seemingly never-ending stream, for various operations. Isabel marvelled at the stamina of Mr Goldsmith, who was not a young man, and, apart from the one hour break, had been on his feet all day. She didn’t marvel at the stamina of Mike Blakeney, he seemed so cool and efficient she felt he could go on anaesthetising for twenty-four hours without a stop if necessary. Nothing seemed to make him lose his cool, and even though some of the surgical procedures were simple, the patient often had complicated anaesthetic problems.
    The last patient on the list was a fit young girl for an appendicectomy, but for some reason she didn’t respond in the usual way to the drugs Mike Blakeney gave her, and he had difficulty in preparing her for intubation. Quickly Isabel passed him all the drugs he would need and when he asked for the laryngoscope she passed that to him quickly as well. But not quickly enough, because he barked at her tersely, “The laryngoscope, damn you.”
    It was in his hands almost before he had finished speaking, Isabel biting her lips in vexation. She had proudly boasted in the dining room that no man would ever reduce her to tears, but at that moment Mike Blakeney had come perilously close to doing just that. However, the tense atmosphere of the anaesthetic room, when presented with a difficult and potentially very dangerous situation, was unnerving for them both. He was worried, she knew that, the tense lines on his face as he bent over the girl showed his concern, but she didn’t think she had