

'THERE is room for improvement, Annika.' Heather Jameson was finding this assessment particularly difficult. In most areas the student nurse was doing well. In exams, her pass-rates had been initially high, but in her second year of study they were now merely acceptable. In her placements it was always noted how hard she worked, and that she was well turned out, on time, but there were still a couple of issues that needed to be addressed.
'It's been noted that you're tired.' Heather cleared her throat. 'Now, I know a lot of students have to work to support themselves during their studies, but...'
Annika closed her eyes, it wouldn't enter Heather's head that she was amongst them---no, she was a Kolovsky, why on earth would she have to work?
Except she did---and that she couldn't reveal.
'We understand that with all your family's charity work and functions...well, that you have other balls to juggle. But, Annika, your grades are slipping---you have to find a better balance.'
'I am trying,' Annika said, but her assessment wasn't over yet.
'Annika, are you enjoying nursing?'
No.
The answer was right there, on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down. For the first six months or so she had loved it---had, after so much searching, thought that she had found her vocation, a purpose to her rich and luxurious life. Despite the arguments from her mother, despite her brother Iosef's stern warning that she had no idea what she was taking on, Annika had dug in her heels and, for six months at least, she had proved everyone wrong.
The coursework had been interesting, her placements on the geriatric and palliative care wards, though scary at first, had been enjoyable, and Annika had thought she had found her passion. But then gradually, just as Iosef had predicted it would, the joy had waned. Her surgical rotation had been a nightmare. A twenty-one-year-old had died on her shift and, sitting with the parents, Annika had felt as if she were merely playing dress-up.
It had been downhill since then.
'Have you made any friends?'
'A few,' Annika said. She tried to be friendly, tried to join in with her fellow students' chatter, tried to fit in, but the simple truth was that from the day she had started, from the day her peers had found out who she was, the family she came from, there had been an expectation, a pressure, to dazzle on the social scene. When Annika hadn't fulfilled it, they had treated her differently, and Annika had neither the confidence nor the skills to blend in.
'I know it's difficult for you, Annika...' Heather really didn't know what else to say. There was an aloofness to Annika that was hard to explain. With her thick blonde hair and striking blue eyes, and with her family's connections, one would expect her to be in constant demand, to be outgoing and social, yet there was a coldness in her that had to be addressed---because it was apparent not just to staff but to the patients. "A large part of nursing is about putting patients at ease---'
'I am always nice to the patients,' Annika interrupted, because she was. 'I am always polite; I introduce myself; I...' Annika's voice faded. She knew exactly what Heather was trying to say, she knew she was wooden, and she didn't know how to change it. 'I am scared of saying the wrong thing,' Annika admitted. 'I'm not good at making small talk, and I also feel very uncomfortable when people recognize my name---when they ask questions about my family.'
'Most of the time people are just making small talk, not necessarily because of who you are,' Heather said, and then, when Annika's eyes drifted to the newspaper on the table, she gave a sympathetic smile, because, in Annika's case people would pry!
The Kolovsky name was famous in Melbourne. Russian fashion designers, they created scandal and mystery and were regularly in the tabloids. Since the founder, Ivan, had died his son Aleksi had taken over the running of the business, and was causing social mayhem. There was a picture of him that very morning on page one, coming out of a casino, clearly the worse for wear, with the requisite blonde on his arm.
'Maybe nursing is not such a good idea.' Annika could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes but she would not cry. 'At the start I loved it, but lately...'
'You're a good nurse, Annika, and you could be a very good nurse. I'm more concerned that you're not happy. I know you're only twenty-five, but that does mean you're older than most of your group, and it's a bit harder as a mature student to fit in. Look...' She changed tack. This wasn't going the way Heather had wanted it---she was trying to bolster Annika, not have her consider quitting. 'You're starting on the children's ward today. Most of them won't have a clue about the Kolovsky name, and children are wonderful at...'
'Embarrassing you?' Annika volunteered, and managed a rare smile. 'I am dreading it.'
'I thought you might be. But children are a great leveller. I think this might be just the ward for you. Try and enjoy it, treat it as a fresh start---walk in and smile, say hello to your colleagues, open up a little, perhaps.'
'I will try.'
'And,' Heather added in a more serious tone, because she had given Annika several warnings, 'think about managing your social engagements more carefully around your roster. Request the weekends off that you need, plan more in advance.'
'I will.' Annika stood up and, unlike most other students, she shook Heather's hand.
It was little things like that, Heather thought as Annika left the room, which made her stand apart. The formal handshake, her slight Russian accent, even though she had been born in Australia. Heather skimmed through Annika's personal file, reading again that she had been home tutored, which explained a lot but not all.
There was guardedness to her, a warning that came from those blue eyes that told you to keep out.
And then occasionally, like she had just now, Annika would smile and her whole face lifted.
She was right about one thing, though, Heather thought, picking up the paper and reading about the latest antics of Annika's brother Aleksi. People did want to know more. People were fascinated by the Kolovsky family---even Heather. Feeling just a touch guilty, she read the article and wondered, not for the first time, what someone as rich and indulged as Annika was trying to prove by nursing.
There was just something about the Kolovskys.
There was still half an hour till Annika's late shift started and, rather than walk into an unfamiliar staffroom and kill time, unusually for Annika she decided to go to the canteen. She had made a sandwich at home, but bought a cup of coffee. She glanced at the tables on offer, and for perhaps the thousandth time rued her decision to work at Melbourne Bayside.
Her brother Iosef was an emergency doctor at Melbourne Central. His wife, Annie, was a nurse there too, but Iosef had been so discouraging, scathing almost, about Annika's ability that she had applied to study and work here instead. How nice it would be now to have Annie wave and ask to join her. Perhaps too it would have been easier to work in a hospital where there were already two Kolovskys---to feel normal.
'Annika!'
She felt a wash of relief as one of her fellow students waved at her. Cassie was down for the children's ward rotation too and, remembering to smile, Annika made her way over.
'Are you on a late shift?' asked Cassie.
'I am,' Annika said. 'It's my first, though. You've already done a couple of shifts there---how have you found it?'
'Awful,' Cassie admitted. 'I feel like an absolute beginner. Everything's completely different---the drug doses, the way they do obs, and then there are the parents watching your every move.'
It sounded awful, and they sat in glum silence for a moment till Cassie spoke again. 'How was your assessment?'
'Fine,' Annika responded, and then remembered she was going to make more of an effort to be open and friendly 'Well, to tell the truth it wasn't great.'
'Oh?' Cassie blinked at the rare insight.
'My grades and things are okay; it is more to do with the way I am with my peers...' She could feel her cheeks burning at the admission. 'And with the patients too. I can be a bit stand-offish!'
'Oh!' Cassie blinked again. 'Well, if it makes you feel any better, I had my assessment on Monday. I'm to stop talking and listen more, apparently. Oh, and I'm to stop burning the candle at both ends!'
And it did make her feel better---not that Cassie hadn't fared well, more that she wasn't the only one who was struggling. Annika smiled again, but it faded when she looked up, because there, handing over some money to the cashier, he was.
Dr Ross Wyatt.
He was impossible not to notice.
Tall, with thick black slightly wavy hair, worn just a touch too long, he didn't look like a paediatric consultant---well, whatever paediatric consultants were supposed to look like.
Some days he would be wearing jeans and a T-shirt, finished off with dark leather cowboy boots, as if he'd just got off a horse. Other days---normally Mondays, Annika had noticed---it was a smart suit, but still with a hint of rebellion: his tie more than a little loosened, and with that silver earring he wore so well. There was just something that seemed to say his muscled, toned body wanted out of the tailored confines of his suit. And then again, but only rarely, given he wasn't a surgeon, if he'd been on call he might be wearing scrubs. Well, it almost made her dizzy: the thin cotton that accentuated the outline of his body, the extra glimpse of olive skin and the clip of Cuban-heeled boots as she'd walked behind him in the corridor one morning....
Ross Wyatt was her favourite diversion, and he was certainly diverting her now. Annika blushed as he pocketed his change, picked up his tray and caught her looking. She looked away, tried to listen to Cassie, but the slow, lazy smile he had treated her with danced before her eyes.
Always he looked good---well, not in the conventional way: her mother, Nina, would faint at his choices. Fashion was one of the rules in her family, and Ross Wyatt broke them all.
And today, on her first day on the paediatric ward, as if to welcome her, he was dressed in Annika's personal favourite and he looked divine!
Black jeans, with a thick leather belt, a black crewneck jumper that showed off to perfection his lean figure, black boots, and that silver earring. The colour was in his lips: wide, blood-red lips that curved into an easy smile. Annika hadn't got close enough yet to see his eyes, but he looked like a Spanish gypsy---just the sort of man her mother would absolutely forbid. He looked wild and untamed and thrilling---as if at any minute he would kick his heels and throw up his arms, stamp a flamenco on his way over to her. She could almost smell the smoke from the bonfire---he did that to her with a single smile...
And it was madness, Annika told herself, utter madness to be sitting in the canteen having such flights of fancy. Madness to be having such thoughts, full stop.
But just the sight of him did this.
And that smile had been aimed at her.
Again.
Maybe he smiled at everyone, Annika reasoned---only it didn't feel like it. Sometimes they would pass in the corridor, or she'd see him walking out of ICU, or in the canteen like this, and for a second he would stop...stop and smile.
It was as if he was waiting to know her.
And that was the other reason she was dreading her paediatric rotation. She had once let a lift go simply because he was in it. She wanted this whole eight weeks to be over with, to be finished.
She didn't need any more distractions in an already complicated life---and Ross Wyatt would be just that: a huge distraction.
They had never spoken, never even exchanged pleasantries. He had looked as if he was going to try a couple of times, but she had scuttled back into her burrow like a frightened rabbit. Oh, she knew a little about him---he was a friend of her brother's, had been a medical student at the same time as Iosef. He still went to the orphanages in Russia, doing voluntary work during his annual leave---that was why he had been unable to attend Iosef and Annie's wedding. She had paid little attention when his name had been mentioned at the time, but since last year, when she had put his face to his name, she had yearned for snippets from her brother.
Annika swallowed as she felt the weight of his eyes still on her. She had the craziest notion that he was going to walk over and finally speak to her, so she concentrated on stirring her coffee.
'There are compensations, of course!' Cassie dragged her back to the conversation, only to voice what was already on Annika's mind. 'He's stunning, isn't he?'
'Who?' Annika flushed, stirring her coffee, but Cassie just laughed.
'Dr Drop-Dead Gorgeous Wyatt.'
'I don't know him.' Annika shrugged.
'Well, he's looking right over at you!' Cassie sighed. 'He's amazing, and the kids just love him---he really is great with them.'
'How?'
'I don't know...' Cassie admitted. 'He just...' She gave a frustrated shrug. 'He gets them, I guess. He just seems to understand kids, puts them at ease.'
Annika did not, would not, look over to where he sat, but sometimes she was sure he looked over to her---because every now and then she felt her skin warm. Every now and then it seemed too complicated to move the sandwich from her hand up to her mouth.
Ross Wyatt certainly didn't put Annika at ease.
He made her awkward.
He made her aware.
Even walking over to empty out her tray and head to work she felt as if her movements were being noted, but, though it was acutely awkward, somehow she liked the feeling he evoked. Liked the thrill in the pit of her stomach, the rush that came whenever their paths briefly crossed.
As she sat in handover, listening to the list of patients and their ages and diagnoses, he popped his head around the door to check something with Caroline, the charge nurse, and Annika felt a dull blush on her neck as she heard his voice properly for the first time.
Oh, she'd heard him laugh on occasion, and heard his low tones briefly as they'd passed in the corridor when he was talking with a colleague, but she'd never fully heard him speak.
And as he spoke now, about an order for pethidine, Annika found out that toes did curl---quite literally!
His voice was rich and low and without arrogance. He'd made Caroline laugh with something he said---only Annika couldn't properly process it, because instead she was feeling her toes bunch up inside her sensible navy shoes.
'Back to Luke Winters...'
As the door closed so too did her mind on Ross, and she began concentrating carefully on the handover, because this rotation she had to do well.
'He's fifteen years old, Type 1 Diabetes, noncompliant...'
Luke Winters, Annika learnt, was causing not just his family but the staff of the children's ward a lot of problems.
It was his third admission in twelve months. He was refusing to take his insulin at times, ignoring his diet, and he had again gone into DKA---a dangerous, toxic state that could kill. He had an ulcer on his leg that had been discovered on admission, though had probably been there for some time. It would take a long time to heal and might require a skin graft. His mother was frantic---Luke had come to the ward from ICU two days ago and was causing chaos. His room was a mess, and he had told the domestic this morning, none too politely, to get out.
He was now demanding that his catheter be removed, and basically both the other patients and the staff wanted him taken to an adult ward, though Ross Wyatt was resisting.
'"Teenagers, even teenagers who think they are adults, are still children."' Caroline rolled her eyes. 'His words, not mine. Anyway, Luke's mum is at work and not due in till this evening. Hopefully we can have some order by then. Okay...' She stared at the patient sheet and allocated the staff, pausing when she came to Annika. 'I might put you in cots with Amanda...' She hesitated. 'But you haven't been in cots yet, have you, Cassie?'
When Cassie shook her head and Caroline changed her allocation Annika felt a flood of relief---she had never so much as held a baby, and the thought of looking after a sick one petrified her.
'Annika, perhaps you could have beds eight to sixteen instead---though given it's your first day don't worry about room fifteen.'
'Luke?' Annika checked, and Caroline nodded.
'I don't want to scare you off on your first day.'
'He won't scare me,' Annika said. Moody teenagers she could deal with; it was babies and toddlers that scared her.
'His room needs to be sorted.'
'It will be.'
'Okay!' Caroline smiled. 'If you're sure? Good luck.'
Lisa, who was in charge of Annika's patients, showed her around the ward. It was, as Cassie had said, completely different. Brightly painted, with a detailed mural running the length of the corridor, and divided pretty much into three.
There were cots for the littlest patients---two large rooms, each containing four cots. Then there were eight side rooms that would house a cot or a bed, depending on the patient's age. Finally there were three large four-bedded rooms, filled with children of various ages.
'Though we do try to keep ages similar,' Lisa said, 'sometimes it's just not possible.' She pointed out the crash trolley, the drug room, and two treatment rooms. 'We try to bring the children down here for dressings and IV's and things like that.'
'So they don't upset the other children?' Annika checked.
'That, and also, even if they are in a side room, it's better they have anything unpleasant done away from their bed. Obviously if they're infectious we can't bring them down, but generally we try to do things away from the bedside.'
Annika was offered a tabard to replace her navy one. She had a choice of aprons, all brightly coloured and emblazoned with cartoon characters, and though her first instinct was to politely decline, she remembered she was making an effort, so chose a red one, with fish and mermaids on it. She felt, as she slipped it over her head, utterly stupid.
Annika started with the obs. Lunches were being cleared away, and the ward was being readied for afternoon rest-time.
The children eyed her suspiciously---she was new and they knew it.
'What's that for?' A mother demanded angrily as her first patient burst into tears when Annika went to wrap a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
Lisa moved quickly to stop her.
'We don't routinely do blood pressure,' Lisa said, showing her the obs form. 'Unless it's stated on the chart.'
'Okay.'
'Just pulse, temp and respirations.'
'Thank you.'
The little girl wouldn't stop crying. In fact she shrieked every time Annika tried to venture near, so Lisa quickly took her temperature as Annika did the rest of the obs. In the room, eight sets of eyes watched her every awkward move: four from the patients, four from their mothers.
'Can I have a drink?' a little boy asked.
'Of course,' Annika said, because that was easy. She checked his chart and saw that he was to be encouraged to take fluids. 'Would you like juice or milk...?'
'He's lactose intolerant!' his mother jumped in. 'It says so above his bed.'
'Always look at the whiteboard above the bed,' Lisa said. 'And it will say in his admission slip too, which is clipped to his folder.'
'Of course.' Annika fled to the kitchen, where Cassie was warming a bottle.
'Told you!' Cassie grinned when Annika told her all that had happened. 'It's like landing on Mars!'
But she wasn't remotely nervous about a sullen Luke. She knew he had no relatives with him, and was glad to escape the suspicious eyes of parents. It was only when she went into the side ward and realised that Ross was in there, talking, that she felt flustered.
'I can come back.'
'No.' He smiled. 'We're just having a chat, and Luke needs his obs done.'
'I don't want them done,' Luke snarled as she approached the bed.
That didn't ruffle her either---her extra shifts at the nursing home had taught her well, because belligerence was an everyday occurrence there!
'I will come back in five minutes, then,' Annika said, just as she would say to Cecil, or Elsie, or any of the oldies who refused to have their morning shower.
'I won't want them done then either.'
'Then I will come back five minutes later, and five minutes after that again. My name is Annika; it would seem that you'll be seeing a lot of me this afternoon.' She gave him a smile. 'Every five minutes, in fact.'
'Just take them now, then.'
So she did.
Annika made no attempt at small talk. Luke clearly didn't want it, and anyway Ross was talking to him, telling him that there was no question of him going home, that he was still extremely ill and would be here for a few weeks---at least until the ulcer on his leg was healed and he was compliant with his medication. Yes, he would take the catheter out, so long as Luke agreed to wee into a bottle so that they could monitor his output.
Luke begrudgingly agreed to that.
And then Ross told him that the way he had spoken to the cleaner that morning was completely unacceptable.
'You can be as angry as you like, Luke, but it's not okay to be mean.'
'So send me home, then.'
'That's not going to happen.'
Annika wrote down his obs, which were all fine, and then, as Ross leant against the wall and Luke lay on the bed with his eyes closed, she spoke.
'When the doctor has finished talking to you I will come back and sort out your room.'
'And I'll tell you the same thing I said to the cleaner.'
She saw Ross open his mouth to intervene as Luke snarled at her, but in this Annika didn't need his help.
'Would you rather I waited till children's nap-time is over?' Annika asked. 'When you feel a little less grumpy.'
'Ha-ha...' he sneered, and then he opened his eyes and gave a nasty sarcastic grin. 'Nice apron!'
'I hate it,' she said. 'Wearing it is a bit demoralising and...' She thought for a moment as Luke just stared. 'Well, I find it a bit patronising really. If I were in cots it would maybe be appropriate. Still...' Annika shrugged. 'Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to.' She replaced his chart. 'I'll be back to clean your room shortly.'
Ross was at the nurses' station writing notes when she came over after completing the rest of the obs. He grinned when he saw her.
'Nice apron.'
'It's growing on me!' Annika said. 'Tomorrow I want to wear the one with robots!'
'I can't wait!' he replied, and, oh, for a witty retort---but there wasn't one forthcoming, so instead she asked Lisa where the cleaning cupboard was and found a bin liner. She escaped to the rather more soothing, at least for Annika, confines of Luke's room.
It was disgusting.
In the short time he had been in the room he had accumulated cups and plates and spilt drinks. There were used tissues on the floor. His bed was a disgrace because he refused to let anyone tidy it, and there were loads of cards from friends, along with all the gadgets fifteen-year-olds seemed to amass.
Luke didn't tell her to leave---probably because he sensed she wouldn't care if he did.
Annika was used to moods.
She had grown up surrounded by them and had chosen to completely ignore them.
Her father's temper had been appalling, though it had never been aimed towards her---she had been the apple of his eye. Her brothers were dark and brooding, and her mother could sulk for Russia.
A fifteen-year-old was nothing, nothing, compared to that lot.
Luke ignored her.
Which was fine by Annika.
'Everything okay?' Lisa checked as she finally headed to the kitchen with a trolley full of used plates and cups.
'All's fine.' The ward was quiet, the lights all dimmed, and Ross was still at the desk. 'Do you need me to do anything else, or is it okay if I carry on with Luke's room?'
'Please do,' Lisa said.
Luke wasn't ignoring her now---instead he watched as she sorted out his stuff into neat piles and put some of it into a bag.
'Your mum can take these home to wash.'
Other stuff she put into drawers.
Then she tacked some cards to the wall. All that was messy now, Annika decided as she wiped down the surfaces in his room, was the patient and his bed.
'Now your catheter is out it will be easier to have a shower. I can run it for you.'
He said neither yes nor no, so Annika headed down the ward and found the linen trolley, selected some towels and then found the showers. She worked out the taps and headed back to her patient, who was a bit wobbly but refused a wheelchair.
'Take my arm, then.'
'I can manage,' Luke said, and he said it again when she tried to help him undress.
'You have a drip...'
'I'm not stupid; I've had a drip before.'
Okay!
So she left him to it, and she didn't hover outside, asking if he was okay every two minutes, because that would have driven Luke insane. Instead she moved to the other end of the bathroom, so she could hear him if he called, and checked her reflection, noting the huge smudges under her eyes, which her mother would point out to her when she went there for dinner at the weekend.
She was exhausted. Annika rested her head against the mirror for a moment and just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. She was beyond exhausted, in fact, and from this morning's assessment it seemed it had been noticed.
Heather would never believe that she was working shifts in a nursing home, and the hardest slots too---five a.m. till eight a.m. if she was on a late shift at the hospital, and seven p.m. till ten p.m. if she was on an early. Oh, and a couple of nights shifts on her days off.
She was so tired. Not just bone-tired, but tired of arguing, tired of being told to pack in nursing, to come home, to be sensible, tired of being told that she didn't need to nurse---she was a Kolovsky.
'Iosef is a doctor,' Annika had pointed out.
'Iosef is a fool,' her mother had said, 'and as for that slut of a wife of his...'
'Finished.'
She was too glum thinking about her mother to smile and cheer as Luke came out, in fresh track pants and with his hair dripping wet.
'You smell much better,' Annika settled for instead, and the shower must have drained Luke because he let Annika thread his T-shirt through his IV.
'What are you looking so miserable about?' Luke asked.
'Stuff,' Annika said.
'Yeah,' Luke said, and she was rewarded with a smile from him.
'Oh, that's much better!' Lisa said, popping her head into the bathroom. 'You're looking very handsome.' Annika caught Luke's eyes and had to stop herself from rolling her own. She sort of understood him---she didn't know how, she just did. 'Your mum's here, by the way!' Lisa added.
'Great,' Luke muttered as Annika walked him back. 'That's all I need. You haven't met her yet...'
'You haven't met mine!' Annika said, and they both smiled this time---a real smile.
Annika surprised herself, because rarely, if ever, did she speak about her family, and especially not to a patient. But they had a little giggle as they walked, and she was too busy concentrating on Luke and pushing his IV to notice Ross look up from the desk and watch the unlikely new friends go by.
'Are you still here?' Caroline frowned, quite a long time later, because, as pedantic as Ross was, consultants didn't usually hang around all day.
'I just thought I'd catch up on some paperwork.'
'Haven't you got an office to go to?' she teased.
He did, but for once he didn't have that much paperwork to do.
'Annika!' Caroline called her over from where Annika was stacking the linen trolley after returning from her supper break. 'Come and get started on your notes. I'll show you how we do them. It's different to the main wards.'
He didn't look up, but he smelt her as she came around the desk.
A heavy, musky fragrance perfumed the air, and though he wrote it maybe twenty times a day, he had misspelled diarrhoea, and Ross frowned at his spiky black handwriting, because the familiar word looked completely wrong.
'Are you wearing perfume, Annika?' He didn't look up at Caroline's stern tone.
'A little,' Annika said, because she'd freshened up after her break.
'You can't wear perfume on the children's ward!' Caroline's voice had a familiar ring to it---one Ross had heard all his life.
'What do you mean---you just didn't want to go to school? You can't wear an earring. You just have to, that's all. You just don't. You just can't.'
'Go and wash it off,' Caroline said, and now Ross did look up. He saw her standing there, wary, tight-lipped, in that ridiculous apron. 'There are children with allergies, asthma. You just can't wear perfume, Annika---didn't you think?'
Caroline was right, Ross conceded, there were children with allergies and, as much as he liked it, Kolovsky musk post-op might be a little bit too much, but he wanted to step in, wanted to grin at Annika and tell her she smelt divine, tell her not to wash it off, for her to tell Caroline that she wouldn't.
And he knew that she was thinking it too!
It was a second, a mere split second, but he saw her waver---and Ross had a bizarre feeling that she was going to dive into her bag for the bottle and run around the ward, ripping off her apron and spraying perfume. The thought made him smile---at the wrong moment, though, because Annika saw him and, although Ross snapped his face to bland, she must have thought he was enjoying her discomfort.
Oh, but he wanted to correct her.
He wanted to follow her and tell her that wasn't what he'd meant as she duly turned around and headed for the washroom.
He wanted to apologise when she came back unscented and sat at her stool while Caroline nit-picked her way through the nursing notes.
Instead he returned to his own notes.
DIAOR... He scrawled a line through it again.
Still her fragrance lingered.
He got up without a word and, unusually for Ross, closed his office door. Then he picked up his pen and forced himself to concentrate.
DIARREA.
He hurled his pen down. Who cared anyway? They knew what he meant!
He was not going to fancy her, nor, if he could help it, even talk much to her.
He was off women.
He had sworn off women.
And a student nurse on his ward---well, it couldn't be without complications.
She was his friend's little sister too.
No way!
Absolutely not.
He picked up his pen and resumed his notes.
'The baby has,' he wrote instead, 'severe gastroenteritis.'


