The Spanish Consultant (Westerling)

Ignoring Charlotte’s shocked murmur of protest, Katy stepped forward, her manner calm and professional.

‘That looks like a nasty cut.’

She addressed her remarks directly to the injured man, who barely acknowledged her presence.

His head rolled onto his chest and his expression was glazed.

Was he drunk or was he suffering the consequences of a head injury?

She’d read enough to be aware of the potential pitfalls of dismissing someone as drunk. There were plenty of horror stories about people who’d been discharged from Casualty only to die the next day as a result of a head injury that no one had taken seriously. Drink could mask a number of symptoms and she had no intention of missing anything.

She turned to his friend, who was clearly having trouble staying upright. ‘What’s his name?’

‘James.’

‘And what happened?’

The man swayed slightly. ‘He fell over and banged his head.’

He was slurring his words so badly that it was difficult to understand him, but Katy knew how important it was to obtain some sort of history. ‘And did he knock himself out?’

The man shrugged, his eyes glazed. ‘Dunno.’

Great. Some history.

‘All right.’ Katy’s tone was brisk. ‘Well, I need to take a look at his head. Why don’t you sit him over there and then go and give his details to Reception?’

The man didn’t answer, his body swaying as he watched her. ‘I asked for a doctor. You’re never a doctor.’

Katy gave a calm smile. The same smile she’d used on her father time and time again.

Don’t antagonise him, Katy.

‘I’m a doctor.’ She spoke quietly, knowing better than to joke or argue with him or enter into any conversation that wasn’t necessary. She could see that the man was very drunk and suspected that he was only too keen to pick a fight. ‘Now, if you’ll just sit him over here, I can take a look at his head.’

Without giving the man time to argue, she took charge and helped the injured man onto the couch in the first cubicle, half-drawing the curtain around him.

She looked at Charlotte. ‘Would you mind showing his friend the way to Reception so that he can give some details, please?’

Charlotte nodded, her eyes wide with admiration. ‘Of course.’

Jago said nothing. He just leaned broad shoulders against the wall, his eyes narrowed as he watched Katy.

Trying to hide how much his presence affected her, Katy reached for an ophthalmoscope to examine the patient’s eyes, but as she put a hand on the man’s head, he gave a groan and lurched towards her. She sidestepped neatly and he vomited over the floor.

Katy reached for a bowl and held it for the man while he retched and mumbled incoherently.

Charlotte, back from Reception, rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘It’s on your shoes,’ she muttered, and Katy shook her head dismissively.

‘I’ll sort that out later.’ She didn’t care about her shoes but she was seriously worried about her patient. Were the symptoms he was displaying the result of alcohol or the bang on the head he’d received? It was such a difficult decision.

If she admitted a patient who was perfectly healthy, she’d be wasting precious hospital resources. On the other hand, if she discharged him and his symptoms were the result of a serious head injury, she would have failed in her duty as a doctor.

Medicine had never seemed so complicated.

She knew that she could ask Jago for advice but she didn’t want to. He might take it as a sign of weakness on her part and she was determined to prove to him that she was more than capable of doing the job without constant supervision.

‘Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?’