In Bed With the Boss

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Georgie said. ‘It must be so hard dealing with violent people, not to mention being first on the scene at horrific accidents and murders.’

‘You get used to most of it after a while—sometimes unexpected things can get under your guard,’ Belinda said. ‘My mother thinks I’ve toughened up too much. She reckons I scare men off. But you have to toughen up, don’t you? You’d be the same dealing with sick people. I mean they don’t all get better, do they?’

‘No, they certainly don’t,’ Georgie agreed, thinking of Marianne Tander, who was still in a coma and unlikely to recover.

They chatted about other things for a while before Georgie decided to discuss the Tanders’ accident with her. She reasoned Belinda was a cop so Ben’s instructions to keep things quiet didn’t include talking to a member of the police force. She gave Belinda the details of the accident and the injuries the wife had sustained and expressed her own and Ben’s concerns that the left-side head injury seemed unusual in a motor vehicle accident unless air bags hadn’t been fitted to the car.

‘I’ll have a look into the accident report for you,’ Belinda said. ‘It could well have been an old-model car. If there’s anything suspicious about it the accident investigation team will get onto it pretty quickly, if they haven’t already.’

‘Thanks, Belinda,’ Georgie said, then looked down at the readout on the treadmill. ‘Gosh, I’ve been running for thirty minutes. It’s so much more fun when you’ve got someone to talk to. An MP3 player isn’t the same at all.’

‘I saw you talking to a guy last night,’ Belinda said. ‘I was in the pilates room upstairs. I’ve seen him in here before. He’s totally hot. I wouldn’t mind washing his sweaty gym socks, I can tell you.’

Georgie knew she was blushing but hoped Belinda would assume it was from the speed she had selected on the treadmill. ‘He’s actually my boss,’ she confessed.

‘Gosh, you lucky thing, you. You should see my boss. He’s fat, bald as a crystal ball and smokes like a chimney.’

Georgie laughed and reached for her water bottle. ‘You could always ask for a transfer,’ she said. ‘You might get lucky next time.’

Belinda snorted and slowed down the treadmill. ‘I’ll give you a call when I have some information for you. Have a good night, Georgie.’

Georgie lifted her hand in a wave. ‘You, too.’

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Graham Manning, the CEO, stormed as he thrust a letter in Ben’s face on Friday morning. ‘If the press gets wind of this we’ll never live it down. I want that registrar of yours taken off the training scheme immediately. I don’t care whose daughter she is. She’s causing an absolute furore, practically accusing Jonathon Tander of attempted murder. He’s a high court judge, for God’s sake!’

Ben frowned as he scanned the letter from one of Sydney’s leading barristers. He hadn’t spoken to Georgie since they’d had coffee on Wednesday but it appeared she had made some accusations against the husband of Marianne Tander that the police were now investigating. The husband was threatening to sue and as supervisor of surgical training, Ben was ultimately responsible for certifying his registrar’s progress and suitability for training.

He looked back at the puce-faced CEO. ‘Registrars get taken off training schemes because of their unsuitability for training, Graham,’ he said. ‘Georgiana Willoughby is one of the best first-year trainees I’ve seen. I certainly will not suspend her training because of some as yet unsubstantiated claim that actually has nothing to do with her capacity for training. I’ll discuss this letter with her and get her comments.’

Graham pushed a hand through his thinning hair. ‘This could blow up in our faces, Ben. It could be a disaster for the hospital, and my position here. We ‘re trying to maintain a reputation as a cutting-edge training hospital. With the budget restraints that have been handed out I’m having to cut services left, right and centre. This could bring litigation on us that could come to millions and we’re self-indemnified, which means any payout or legal costs come out of our budget, meaning less money for patient services.’

‘I know all that, Graham,’ Ben said calmly. ‘But this sort of situation is going be increasingly frequent. Mr Tander, QC is obviously upset, and rightly so. His wife is still in a coma and is likely to have significant brain damage if or when she wakes up. Emotions are running pretty high at the moment. I’ll have a word with him when I next see him.’

‘What’s this girl like?’ Graham asked. ‘I’ve been told she looks more like a catwalk model than a neurosurgeon.’

‘She’s just like any other first-year registrar, Graham,’ he said. ‘A little nervous and lacking experience, but I’m sure in time she’ll make a very fine neurosurgeon.’

‘I’m not giving any favours to her just because of who her father is,’ the CEO insisted. ‘She has to prove herself on her own merit, not stand on the shoulders of her old man. And I’m telling you, if this thing blows up in her face, her old man won’t be able to save her.’

‘This is her first week, for God’s sake,’ Ben said, struggling to hold back his frustration. ‘Besides, she’s not the only one who was suspicious about the injuries Mrs Tander sustained. I discussed my own concerns with her when we viewed the CT scans.’

‘Oh, ah, I see. So you’re the one behind this outrageous accusation?’ he blustered. With narrowed eyes he went on, ‘Or are you taking the rap for her because you’re sleeping with her, like everyone around here is already suggesting?’

Ben rose to his feet, his whole body tightening with anger. ‘My relationship with Dr Willoughby is not relevant to this discussion. But as it happens, I am not sleeping with her.’

Although I’m seriously tempted, he added silently as he held the CEO’s look with steely purpose. ‘As far as I’m concerned, she is my current registrar and that’s all.’

‘Better keep it that way,’ Graham said as he stepped towards the door. ‘I have a feeling that girl is going to be nothing but trouble.’

Tell me something I don’t already know, Ben thought as he sank back to his chair and shoved a hand through his hair.

‘Georgie, Mr Blackwood wants to see you in his office—immediately,’ Jennifer Patterson informed her once she had finished examining a neck injury from a football game. ‘He said he tried your mobile but you didn’t answer.’

Georgie grimaced as she looked down at it clipped on the waistband of her skirt. ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘Battery’s flat. I was just about to charge it when I was called down here.’

‘He sounded pretty uptight,’ Jennifer warned her. ‘What’s going on between you two?’

Georgie stripped off her gloves and carefully avoided Jennifer’s gaze. ‘Nothing’s going on.’