Family for the Children's Doc

He’d spent the first few months blaming himself while caring for a brand-new baby. But time had given him perspective. Anyone who’d known Abby would have known that she’d never have put her life before her child’s. They’d lost a pregnancy the year before, and so she’d been determined to do everything possible to make sure their little girl arrived safely. Her determination was one of the many reasons that he’d loved her.

Her leukaemia had been so aggressive that her chance of survival had been virtually nil. Conversations with colleagues had helped him understand that no matter when she’d admitted to knowing about her illness, the outcome would have inevitably been the same. And the sad fact was, they would have doubtless spent the last few weeks of her pregnancy arguing, with him pushing her to deliver early and seek treatment—of any kind—in an attempt to stretch out their time together.

Instead, they’d spent the time looking forward to the birth of their daughter, with only a few anxious weeks after she’d arrived to consider the future. The ending had been inevitable but peaceful, and whilst Joshua had been angry at the fragility of life, he’d had the opportunity to tell his wife how much he loved her and listen to all her hopes and dreams for Hannah in the future. Abby had even written a diary for their daughter, a list of instructions for him, and some letters to give to Hannah in the future. Whilst lucky wasn’t a word he would choose to describe their situation, he’d been a doctor long enough to know that many families didn’t get a final opportunity to talk and plan and he should count his blessings that they had.

Hannah was the image of her mother with the same pale blue eyes and fine brown hair. Even though she’d barely met Abby, she had some of the same habits and tendencies. If Josh didn’t witness it on a daily basis he wouldn’t have believed it, and it had changed his thinking countless times on the nature or nurture debate.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. Georgie, letting him know that things had been ‘interesting’ when she’d arrived last night and that she was looking forward to her first day.

Something flickered in his brain and he groaned as he walked out onto the ward. He’d been so rushed last night—picking up Hannah from after school care and taking her straight to ballet lessons. No wonder she’d fallen asleep in the car on the way home. But now he had a horrible inkling about the strange woman in the garage last night. And, as if life was trying to teach him a lesson, standing at the nurses’ station was a girl with tied-up dark brown hair. His stomach gave an uncomfortable squeeze. Please don’t let it be...

She turned around, her eyes widening and her face falling as the same recognition that he was experiencing evidently washed over her.

‘Oh, here he is.’ Luan, one of the regular staff nurses, waved. ‘This is Dr Woodhouse, Clara. Josh, this is our new Georgie.’ She winked at him. ‘I was just telling her all about your sister.’

Joshua kept his expression as neutral as possible as he walked forward and extended his hand. He hadn’t exactly been friendly last night; his mind had been on other things. It had taken an age to settle Hannah back down after the car alarm had jerked her out of her sleepy state.

The woman was tall, slim with dark hair and brown eyes. She was dressed smartly in black trousers, a bright red shirt, flat shoes and her white lab coat. He tried to stop his gaze fixating on her high cheekbones and bright red lips. She was pretty—more than pretty. Something he’d failed to register last night in the dimly lit car park. ‘Dr Connolly, I presume?’

Had he really just said that? Darn it. She was Scottish too. Would she think he was making a fool of her and mimicking the famous quote Dr Livingstone, I presume?

But, all credit to her, Clara Connolly gave a little tug at the bottom of her bright red shirt then held out her hand to his. Her handshake was firm—a little too firm. Maybe she was still annoyed about last night.

‘Yes, I’m Clara,’ she said, then her lips turned upwards as if someone had just reminded her to smile. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Was she nervous?

Okay. Those words were definitely said through slightly clenched teeth. He was going to have to make the best of the fact that he’d totally forgotten his new doctor was moving into his sister’s flat last night. He didn’t even know if Clara had known that he lived in the same building. Well, she did now. And probably thought he was one of the rudest men on the planet.

There really wasn’t much recovery from this at all. He decided to get straight down to business. ‘Let me show you around and tell you how we do things here,’ he said, gesturing for her to follow him down the ward.

He was proud of his department and the reputation for excellence that it held. He was always very careful about recruitment, taking up multiple references in order to get a good idea of whether someone would fit in appropriately with his team. This time he hadn’t had that opportunity. The job swap had happened so fast. He’d seen her CV, of course. It was impressive—as was the list of hospitals she’d worked at throughout her career. He’d even recognised the names of some of her supervisors, all colleagues he respected. He knew Clara was at the same stage of her career as his sister—but what he didn’t know was what she was made of. It irked him; he couldn’t help it. Qualifications were all very well, but could he trust Clara Connolly to fit into his team? This woman with the dark brown hair and brown eyes almost seemed as if she’d tricked her way in here.

She pulled a pair of glasses from her white coat and slid them on. They were red-rimmed, with a cartoon character on the legs. He pretended not to notice. He wondered if red was her theme. ‘This is our general admissions assessment unit. We have fourteen beds. We don’t leave kids in A&E; they come straight up here once they’ve been triaged and had any X-rays that they need. Ultrasounds can be performed on the ward, and we have a system where they get anaesthetic cream put on their arms downstairs, so if we need to take bloods up here we can do that straight away. If they don’t need anything, we just wipe it back off.’

Clara gave a nod. He handed her an electronic tablet from a stack on the wall. ‘You should have received a passcode this morning.’

She nodded and he pointed at it. ‘We keep all records electronically, and order all tests this way too. You can log into any device at any point in the hospital.’

He looked around the ward and kept walking. ‘We have a general surgical ward, a medical ward, a twelve-bed paediatric oncology unit for treatments, and six paediatric beds in ITU—all on this floor of the hospital. You’ll be expected to participate in a number of our paediatric clinics, all based on the ground floor, and carry a paediatric arrest pager.’ He cleared his throat a little and spun around, lowering his voice. ‘I see from your CV that you have experience in all these areas. I take it you’re happy to cover them here?’

There was an edge of challenge in his tone, and one of her eyebrows gave the slightest hint of lifting. She tilted her chin towards him. ‘I think you’ll find I’m competent in all areas, Dr Woodhouse.’

‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘we’ll see.’

‘And just what does that mean?’ There was a flash of anger in her eyes and she planted one hand on her hip.

‘Exactly what I said. We’ll see.’

He could tell she was trying to rein her anger in. ‘I don’t like the implication. I’m sure you can tell from my CV that I’m more than competent at my job. Anyone who knows me, or has worked with me, could also tell you that.’

He started walking towards his office. ‘Well, that’s just it. I don’t know you and I’ve never worked with you. I’ve just had you thrust upon me without much warning.’

Clara had kept pace next to him as he’d started moving again but stumbled for a second over his last sentence.

She kept quiet until they were in his office but, before he had a chance to do anything else, she closed the door firmly and leaned against it, folding her arms.

‘Why don’t you tell me exac

tly how you feel then, Dr Woodhouse? Is this how you treat all your new starts? Because I hate to break it to you, but you really need to work on your welcome.’ She paused for a second then glared at him. ‘In both your personal and your professional life.’

For a second he was stunned. He’d been prepared for some comeback, but it seemed that Clara Connolly gave just as good as she got.

This might actually be interesting. He liked working with people who were straight talkers. It saved time.

He sat down in the chair behind his desk. ‘This is my department, Dr Connolly. And I’ll run it my way.’ As much as liked her direct approach, he needed to make sure she knew who was boss.

‘I’m surprised you have any staff at all.’ The words shot out of her mouth and then she blinked. Was that a flash of regret in her eyes? Now they were out of the ward environment and he was looking at her full on, he could really get a sense of her. There were a few fine lines around her eyes, a smattering of freckles across her nose and she was wearing impeccable make-up. Maybe it was the make-up that kept drawing his gaze to her dark brown—currently stormy—eyes. Her bright red lips matched her glasses. And her hair—tied in a high ponytail—was bouncing as she spoke.

He took a breath. ‘I wasn’t familiar with the job swap policy. I hadn’t even heard about it until Georgie told me she’d matched with you and was moving for six months.’

Clara looked him square in the eye. ‘Any idea why she wanted to leave?’

He flinched. He wasn’t quite sure if it was sarcasm or a genuine query. He ignored the remark. He hadn’t told a single person the real reason Georgie had left.

‘I normally recruit staff into the department myself. I like to make sure they’re the kind of people who will fit into the team. I didn’t get that opportunity with you.’