‘We should have intubated him,’ Toby said quickly, eager to make up for the last ten minutes.
‘Give him a chance, slugger,’ Jamie replied with a small smile. ‘And remember you’re only an F1 in this scenario, you wouldn’t be going around tubing people.’
‘Call for help,’ Libby cut in. ‘We didn’t call for help.’
‘Yes!’ Jamie smiled across at Libby and then watched in fascination as her gorgeous face broke into a wide grin. In contrast to her perfect features, her smile was just slightly off balance, with one side of her mouth hitching up a touch more than the other. Strangely, that added even more to her appeal. ‘You guys need a senior review and possibly an anaesthetist – likeme– as everyone knows we’re the best at handling acutely unwell patients.’
What? Why was he boasting about his specialty like some sort of insecure wanker? He cleared his throat to continue. ‘In this scenario I wouldn’t even have blamed you for putting out a crash call.’
Jamie tore his eyes away from Libby’s wonky smile when he heard a muffled snort from the other end of the bed. He turned to see Toby stalking back to his seat, red-faced and with his jaw clenched so tight that a muscle was ticking in his cheek. He heard a small sigh from Libby as she returned to hers. Jamie was still watching Toby’s face as she walked past him, and frowned when he caught a surprisingly fierce expression – one of actual rage and loathing – flash across the boy’s features.
*****
‘Libby-Lou.’ Libby heard Kira hiss and felt her shoulder being shaken. She pulled away slightly and burrowed her face further into her arms on the table. ‘Come on, Libs. I have cancer-laden processed food of Satan, plus evil corporate-giant caffeinated drinks.’
Libby’s eyes flickered as the delicious smell of bacon wafted up to her nose. Before she could manage to open them fully however, her eyelids were both forcibly pulled back Clockwork Orange-style, so she was made to look at Kira’s frustrated little freckle-covered face. Those green eyes stared back at her with concern. ‘Come on, loser. I had to set aside nearly all my principles to buy you this stuff. You know I’m a vegan this month and I’m boycotting all big corporate products.’ Libby managed to push up to her elbows and laid her head on Kira’s shoulder, on top of her dark red, partially dreadlocked hair.
‘Ugh,’ Libby grunted, stretching out feebly towards the bacon bap just out of her reach. Kira rolled her eyes and gave the bap a shove in Libby’s direction.
‘Are you totally non-verbal today or what?’ Kira asked. Libby was attempting to open the bottle of Fat Coke, prompting Kira to sigh, snag it from her and twist off the top before passing it back.
Libby nodded and took a life-restoring swig of the good stuff. She’d feel better in about ten minutes after the sugar and caffeine kicked in, and then she’d have about an hour before crashing.
‘I love you, Ki-Ki,’ she said as her teeth sunk into the soft bread and bacon with just the right amount of ketchup. ‘I wish we were lesbians and we could live together in a lesbian commune for the rest of our lives.’
‘Libs, we all wish we were lesbians. But I’d like to point out that that wasn’t what you were saying earlier after your little sesh with Triple G.’
‘Bugger off,’ Libby muttered, her mouth still full.
‘I’d like to show him a scenario or two,’ Kira said through a smirk. ‘I’d scenario that boy’s arse off.’
‘He’s hardly a boy, Ki-Ki,’ Libby put in, frowning down at her bacon. ‘He’s … I don’t know … thirty or something. And he’s in charge of training. You shouldn’t be inappropri – ’
‘Oh come on, goody-two-shoes. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it? Those smoldering eyes, that strong jaw, ripped body. If he’d have got me up there I’d have been bent over Sim-Man crying “Oh teacher please help me save the patient. Let’s save himrealgood.”’
Libby choked on her Coke, trying to stifle her laughter. ‘Shut up, Kira,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘The whole bloody canteen can hear you.’
Kira rolled her eyes. ‘Lighten up, loser. I’m trying to inject some life into your zombie-self with my hilarious banter.’ She turned to Libby and raised her eyebrows. ‘I suppose it’s a lost cause asking if you’d come out tonight?’
Libby grimaced at even the thought of a night out in her sleep-deprived state and shook her head so vigorously that the elastic straining to contain her hair popped free, leaving the heavy mass to settle down her back, across her shoulders and around her face. She growled as she looked under the table for the elastic, wishing, not for the first time, that she could just cut the whole sodding ridiculous lot off; but for Libby, as with a lot of other things in her life, that was not going to happen.
‘Where did it … ?’ she trailed off as she noticed that Kira now had her hand over her mouth in horror. ‘What?’ Libby asked, tucking her hair behind her ears. Kira widened her eyes at Libby to almost comical proportions; then she jerked her head to the side, towards the next-but-one table. Libby looked across and saw her hair band resting on the top of a plate of pasta. The fork that was suspended over it, held by a large, male hand, slowly lowered. When she finally dragged her gaze up to see whose food she had contaminated, she froze. Familiar hazel eyes stared back at her and she took in a sharp breath of surprise. It was him: Dr Grantham, the anaesthetist from this morning, who had already been labelled Triple G: ‘Gorgeous Grantham the Gasman’. She stood up from her chair, feeling her face heat and wishing fervently that the floor would swallow her up. Kira snorted a suppressed laugh.
‘Uh … hi, Trip … I mean, Dr Grantham,’ she said once she had reached his table. ‘I’m so sorry but …’ She trailed off as he hooked her hair band with his fork and held it up. She snatched it off and screwed it up into a tight fist despite the pasta sauce covering its underside. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.
‘It’s fine,’ he clipped in that cut-glass accent of his. Libby had done a fairly good job of neutralizing her own accent over the last two years but she knew it still held a slight, unmistakable Cockney vibe. For a moment she couldn’t move. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but she became hypnotized by the sight of a small muscle ticking on his tanned and stubble-covered jaw.
‘I’m sorry but do I know you?’
Libby turned her head sharply and took in the attractive Mediterranean-looking man sitting opposite Triple G who had asked the question and was looking up at her with curious eyes and a wide, bright, dazzlingly white smile. Libby stiffened.
‘No.’ She forced a smile. ‘No, we’ve not met.’
‘But I could swear I …’ The man trailed off, his dark eyes narrowing.
‘Um … thanks,’ Libby said, frantically gathering up her hair and trying to stuff it back into the band. ‘I’d better get – ’
‘Oh … that’s it!’ Mediterranean Man said suddenly as she was turning away, and a cold feeling of dread swept over her. ‘I know where I’ve seen you!’ He was excited now, his finger raised and pointing at her. Her hands dropped down from her hair-wrangling and she turned to him. She gave a tiny shake of her head and her wide eyes pleaded with him to stop. The grin on the guy’s face slowly dimmed and he blinked once.
