Emergency Doctor and Cinderella
‘Eamon?’ A high female voice sounded from behind their table.
Erin turned her head to see one of the nurses from the surgical ward approaching, bringing with her a wave of heady perfume that irritated Erin’s nostrils.
‘Hi, Sherrie,’ Eamon, said, rising to his feet and sweeping the woman into a brief, hard hug. He held her from him to look down at her flushed features. ‘How’re you doing? I’ve been meaning to call you, but things have been pretty crazy since I got back from London.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ the woman called Sherrie said, with a beaming smile. ‘Gosh, you look fabulous. Jet lag and hard work must suit you.’
Eamon gave a self-deprecating smile before turning to introduce Erin. ‘Sherrie, do you know Dr Erin Taylor from A&E?’
Sherrie held out her hand. ‘No, I don’t think we’ve met properly. I’ve seen you around, though. Nice to meet you.’
Erin briefly placed her hand in the other woman’s before pulling away. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You too.’
‘So…’ Sherrie turned back to Eamon. ‘When are you free for a meal or a drink or something? Where are you staying? Have you bought a house or an apartment?’
Eamon grinned at the barrage of questions, holding up his hands as if to ward them off. ‘One at a time, Sherrie. Yes, a meal would be great, and I’m renting my mate Tim Yeoman’s apartment in Mosman until the renovations are completed on my house at Balmoral Beach. Tim’s still on sabbatical in Edinburgh.’
Sherrie took a pen out of her uniform pocket and scribbled her number and address on a napkin from the table. She handed it to him and smiled. ‘Here are my details,’ she said. ‘I’ve changed my number since I last saw you. Call me any time. It will be great to hear all about your time in the UK.’
Eamon folded the napkin and put it in the breast pocket of his shirt. ‘Thanks, Sherrie; I’ll see what I can do for next week. I’m still unpacking, otherwise I’d organise something sooner.’
‘No problem,’ Sherrie said, and glanced at her watch. ‘Oops. Gotta dash. I’m meant to be in Surg A by now. Congratulations on the new job, Eamon. You’re exactly what this place needs to whip it into shape.’ She turned and smiled at Erin. ‘See you around, Erica.’
‘Erin,’ Erin corrected her.
‘Oh, sorry, I’mhopeless with names.’ And then, with another beaming smile aimed at Eamon, Sherrie left.
Erin pushed her half-drunk latte away. ‘A love interest of yours?’ she asked.
He sat back down and drained the contents of his cup before he answered. ‘We dated a couple of times a few years ago. Nothing too serious, and fortunately we managed to remain friends after we called it quits.’
‘It looks to me like she would like a re-run,’ Erin said, not quite able to stop herself from sounding slightly churlish.
One of his dark brows lifted. ‘Is that feminine intuition or something else?’
She was the first to shift her gaze. ‘What else could it be?’ she asked. ‘You’re not exactly my type.’
‘Oh really?’ he said. ‘What is your type?’
Erin wished she hadn’t started the conversation. She could feel her colour rising as the silence stretched and stretched. How could she answer such a question? She didn’t have a type. She didn’t even have a social life. She had a cat and a career and a cartload of reasons to keep her life as simple as possible. ‘I have to get going,’ she said, making a show of looking at her watch. ‘I don’t want another long day.’
‘Big plans for this evening?’ he asked as he rose to his feet.
Erin wondered if he was making fun of her. To an attractive man with women falling over themselves to book him for a date, her life must seem pretty dull in comparison. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact,’ she lied. ‘I’m meeting someone after work.’
‘About what we discussed over coffee…’ Eamon began as he accompanied her back to the hospital.
‘Don’t worry, Dr Chapman,’ she said before he could continue. ‘I’ll get working on winning friends and influencing people right now.’
Eamon watched as she stalked off down the corridor, her head down, her shoulders hunched and her face like a brewing storm. ‘You do that, Dr Taylor,’ he murmured, and, blowing out a breath, made his way back to his office.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be doing the trial ward-round with Dr Chapman?’ Lydia Hislop, one of the nurses who regularly worked with Erin, asked. ‘The others left over half an hour ago.’
Erin frowned as she checked through the patient’s notes she was reading, barely registering what the nurse had said. ‘When did Mrs Fuller have a second shot of pethidine?’ She glanced at the nurse. ‘I don’t remember signing for it.’
Lydia peered at the notes, her forehead creasing over a frown. ‘That’s your signature, isn’t it?’
Erin felt a cold hand of unease press against the base of her spine. She closed the patient folder and let out a long, unsteady breath. ‘I must be working way too hard,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t even remember what day it is.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Lydia said with an empathetic eyeroll. ‘Have you got time to see Mr Boyle in bay five, or should I get one of the night-duty staff to deal with it?’
Erin glanced at her watch. The ward-round, even if she had wanted to attend, would be winding up by now; it would be over altogether by the time she made it up to the appropriate floor. ‘I’ll see him,’ she said. ‘That’s the one with the suspected appendix, right?’
‘Yes, I’ve got his history here,’ Lydia said, handing her a file. ‘He’s been in before for a resection of gangrenous bowel about two years ago.’
‘That should make for interesting surgery,’ Erin said. ‘Who’s the surgeon on call?’
‘Mr Gourlay,’ Lydia said. ‘Your all-time favourite.’
This time is was Erin who rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe I should have gone on that ward-round after all.’
When Erin got home from work, Molly wound her plump body around her legs, mewing in delight. Erin smiled and scooped her up, burying her face in the cat’s luxurious fur. The phone rang inside her bag, and she gently put Molly down to answer it. When she saw the number on the screen, she felt a hand of dread clutch at her insides. ‘Hello, Mum,’ she said in a flat tone.
‘Ezzie, I need your help,’ Leah Taylor said. ‘Things have been tough just lately, you know how it is.’
Erin whooshed out an impatient sigh. ‘No, Mum, strange as it may seem, I don’t know how it is.’
‘There’s no need to be nasty,’ Leah said. ‘All I want is a bit of cash to get me through until my next pension payment.’
Erin began pacing; it was almost unconscious every time she spoke with her mother. Back and forth she went across the carpet, like a caged animal desperate for freedom. She could even see the slightly worn area when she’d last vacuumed. ‘Mum, you know what the social worker said about me giving you money all the time,’ she said. ‘You just shoot it up or drink it.’
‘I’m going straight now, Ez,’ her mother said. ‘I haven’t touched a drop for three days.’
Erin rolled her eyes. ‘And what about Bob or Bill or Brad, or whatever his name is? Is he going straight too?’
‘Just because you can’t pull a man doesn’t give you the right to slag me off. If you would just tart yourself up a bit you wouldn’t be living all alone with just a stupid cat for company.’
Erin felt anger rising in her like the froth of a soda poured too rapidly, threatening to overflow the glass of her control. She had to fight her temper back, knowing from experience it never worked with her mother. There was no hope of a rational conversation with someone in the grip of addiction. She had learned that earlier than any child should have to learn. Some people loved their fix more than their children. Leah Taylor was one of them. The drink and the drugs would always come first, her unsavoury boyfriends a close second. ‘Mum, I’m going to hang up now, OK?’ she said in a cool, calm voice. ‘I’ll call you in a couple of days.’
‘How can you turn your back on your own mother?’ Leah asked in a whining tone.
Erin closed her eyes as she thought of all the times her mother had abandoned her, leaving her to fend for herself until the authorities had finally stepped in. Years of being shunted from one foster home to another, with short periods of being reunited with her mother in some of Leah’s all-too-brief periods of sobriety. Yes, Erin could easily turn her back on her mother. It was either that or get hurt all over again. ‘I’ll call you later, Mum,’ she said again.
‘Selfish little cow,’ Leah snapped. ‘You’re just like your father.’
‘And that would be…?’ Erin asked pointedly.
Her mother slammed the phone down.
CHAPTER THREE
ERIN wasn’t sure why she went to that particular movie at that particular cinema, but at the time she had figured it was much better than spending the evening alone with her demons. The film was an art-house foreign-language one she had read a review about in one of the weekend papers. She took her seat and sipped at a diet soda; she barely read the subtitles, she just looked at the images flashing across the screen while her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
When she came out of the cinema the streets were crowded with people on their way home from dinner, or on their way to nightclubs for drinking and dancing. The noisy chatter and laughter of everyone having a good time as they enjoyed the balmy autumn evening made Erin wish she hadn’t come out after all.
She had never felt more alone in her life.
Eamon picked up his takeaway meal from his favourite restaurant, thrilled that the same people were still running it since he had left to work in the UK a couple of years ago. Right now he could think of nothing better than a cold beer and a madras curry, maybe watching some cricket on television or catching up on some current affairs on the Net.
He suddenly noticed a slight figure in the small crowd that was milling out of the local cinema, her shiny chestnut hair loose about her face instead of tightly pulled back. She was wearing jeans and a loose shirt over a camisole top, with ballet flats on her feet. Her eyes were downcast as she weaved her way through the knots of people, as if she didn’t want to be noticed.
Eamon was on his way to her when he saw a boisterous couple coming the other way jostle against her, almost knocking her over.
‘Hey, watch where you’re going,’ the young male half of the couple said belligerently.
Eamon quickly broke through the crowd and put his arm around Erin’s waist, pulling her close to his side. ‘Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,’ he said. Then, turning to look at the obstreperous pair, he gave them the full force of his commanding gaze. ‘Is there a problem here?’
The couple exchanged a glance, the young man eventually giving a shrug. ‘It’s cool, mate. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Eamon said, and stood with his arm still around Erin’s waist until they had moved on.
Erin felt the nerves beneath her skin tingle with feelings she had never felt before. The weight of his arm was unfamiliar, but not in any way unpleasant. With him standing so close to her she could smell his light citrus-based aftershave; she could even see the individual points of stubble on his jaw. The most primal feelings swept over her. No one had ever sprung to protect her before. It awakened such deep yearnings she had trouble disguising how affected she was. To cover her vulnerability, she stepped out of his embrace and dusted herself off, as if his touch had contaminated her in some way. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled. ‘But the sweetheart thing was a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?’
His mouth curved upwards in a smile. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It worked, didn’t it?’
Erin found her lips wanting to return his smile, but she controlled them by biting the inside of her mouth.
‘So, where’s your date?’ he asked, looking up and down the street before returning his gaze to hers.
‘What date? Oh…’ She felt her face colour again. ‘Um…they couldn’t make it at the last minute.’
‘Another doctor, huh?’
‘Um…’ She looked away. ‘No. Just a…Someone who couldn’t make it.’
‘Story of my life,’ he said with a hint of wryness.
Erin looked at him. ‘You got stood up?’ Her voice came out slightly incredulous.
‘You didn’t turn up for the first ward-round,’ he said, skewering her with his gaze.
Erin bit her lip and turned away. ‘I know. I’m sorry, I had a tough case to deal with. I lost track of time.’
‘I realise it won’t always be possible to attend each one, but the plan overall is to improve continuity of care,’ he said. ‘Today’s round showed up a few holes in the system, so it will be good to work on those. I can fill you in on what went on so you don’t feel out of the loop.’
Erin had always felt out of the loop, but she didn’t tell him so. She hadn’t gone to the right school, and she certainly hadn’t come from the right family. She didn’t mix with the high-flyers; she just got on with her job, hoping to make a difference where she could. ‘You seem pretty sure this set-up will work,’ she said. ‘Is this new system something you experienced overseas?’
‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘I’ve worked in several A&E departments now, and I’ve seen a lot of avoidable problems occur because communication with the medical staff in A&E stopped the moment the patient was rolled out the door of the department—problems that would have been avoided with a structured follow-through plan involving the staff who did the primary assessment.’
Erin suddenly noticed the takeaway bag he was carrying. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was holding you up from your dinner.’
‘You’re not holding me up,’ he said. ‘I was just on my way home. Did you drive or walk?’
‘I walked,’ she said. ‘Parking is always a pain down here at this time of night.’
‘Like most cities,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll walk back with you. Have you had dinner? I’ve got enough to share if you’d like to join me.’
Erin felt her cheeks flush. ‘Oh no…I wouldn’t want to intrude.’
‘You’re not intruding. Besides, I can tell you how the ward-round went while we eat.’
Erin wanted to refuse but the thought of the rest of the evening alone was suddenly not as welcome as it had been earlier. She told herself she should at least be polite to Eamon after he had come to her rescue so gallantly. Surely she owed him an hour or two of her time? ‘Thanks, that would be nice,’ she said, glancing at him shyly.
Following the short walk back, Eamon activated the security pass to the apartment block and waited for her to precede him. The elevator ride was swift but to Erin it felt as if it was taking for ever. She didn’t know what to say; she didn’t even know where to stand. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, half-leaning, half-standing against the bare wall of the elevator. She felt awkward, gauche and out of place, certain he was wondering what was wrong with her. He was probably used to the most sophisticated of women, wining and dining them in world-class restaurants. No doubt he bedded them as well, taking pleasure where he found it, almost certainly giving it back one-hundredfold. She kept her arms folded across her chest but even so she could still feel where his arm had been about her waist.
She began to imagine what it would feel like to have his touch on other parts of her body—her mouth, for instance. His mouth was a sensual one, the lower lip fuller than the top one, making her lips start to tingle in anticipation of feeling its firmness against hers. Would he kiss softly or firmly? Would he cup her face or hold her by the shoulders? Would he…?
The doors of the elevator opening catapulted her out of her wayward thoughts. With her colour still high, she moved past Eamon as he held the doors open with the strong band of his arm, her heart doing little skips in her chest as she breathed in his scent once more. She felt ashamed of her reaction, and hoped to God he wasn’t picking up on it. How foolish of her to be so taken in by good looks and easy charm. He was her boss, for goodness’ sake! What sort of a fool would she be to compromise her professionalism by becoming involved with a colleague? In any case, given her background, how soon would he stay interested in her? She could hardly take him home to meet her mother and her latest junkie boyfriend. Men like Eamon Chapman dated women from the right side of the tracks, not trailer-park misfits.
‘I’m sorry the place is still a bit of a mess,’ Eamon said as he opened his apartment door. ‘I should be an expert at unpacking by now; I’ve done it enough times.’
Not as many times as me, Erin thought as she followed him inside. ‘Can I do anything to help?’ she asked.
‘No, just take a seat and I’ll get some plates,’ he said. ‘Would you like a glass of wine? I’ve got red and white, or beer if you’d prefer.’
‘I’m not much of a drinker, so don’t open anything specially.’
‘One glass of wine won’t hurt you,’ he said, taking a bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge. ‘It’ll help you relax.’
Erin pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. ‘Is it that obvious?’
He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. That drunken jerk would have frightened most people. He was probably pretty harmless, but these days you never can tell.’
Erin hadn’t given the inebriated young man another thought. It was the stone-cold sober, gorgeous one standing in front of her right now that was her real concern. ‘I guess I should think about taking some self-defence classes,’ she said, taking the glass of wine he handed her.
‘Not a bad idea,’ he said. ‘You’re so tiny it wouldn’t take much to knock you off your feet.’
Erin felt a shivery feeling move down her spine. How could one casual, throwaway comment make her feel so utterly feminine? She buried her nose in her glass, keeping her gaze averted from his while her heart did funny little somersaults behind her ribcage.
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