A Change Of Heart. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
and other staff members were talking excitedly about an upcoming cardiovascular conference in the South Island tourist mecca of Queenstown.
‘Will you be going, David?’
‘I doubt I’ll be eligible for conference leave for a while.’
Alan laughed. ‘I forgot to tell you—we’ve got you down as one of the speakers. I don’t think leave will be a problem and it’s only for a weekend.’
David grinned. Speaking at a national conference on short notice shouldn’t be any problem and could only speed up his acceptance. It sounded great. Unconsciously, he found his gaze searching for the cardiology registrar, wondering whether she would be attending the conference. But Lisa had vanished and David merely shrugged mentally. It was of no great importance after all.
‘No! You musn’t do that, Donald.’
Both David and Jane Maddon turned at the sound of the alarmed protest. The familiar pink candlewick, wedged between the bars of the walking frame, was quivering ominously.
David’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me that’s Mr Judd.’ He eyed the pencil-thin, late-middle-aged man with some awe.
‘Sure is,’ Jane whispered. ‘He absolutely adores her. He comes in every day to look after her and do her washing.’
‘So I see.’ David was just as awed by the size of the pair of knickers Mrs Judd was pulling from her husband’s hands. Her voice had quietened due to the exertion of her protest but was still quite audible.
‘If you put them in the drier they’ll shrink, and then what’ll I do, Donald?’
David grimaced at Jane. The alternatives didn’t bear thinking about.
Jane smiled. ‘We have a laundry where patients and relatives can take care of their nightwear and smalls. Donald Judd uses it more than anyone.’
‘Smalls?’
Jane glanced at the item of clothing Mrs Judd had now draped over the bar of her walking frame. She elbowed David as she cleared her throat. ‘What can we do for you, Mr James? Are you on the hunt for new patients? I hear Mr Knight is doing very well.’
‘He is, indeed. I like the set-up in the post-surgery intensive care unit. Very impressive.’
Jane was watching Donald Judd hovering anxiously near his wife as she rolled slowly back to her room. ‘Mrs Judd is in need of some attention to her coronary arteries, I believe.’ She eyed David with amusement. ‘We just need to get her diabetes under better control and see if we can get on top of the asthma. Lisa has her scheduled for a cardiac catheter next week.’
David was backing off. ‘I really only came to find Mike. Is he around at the moment?’
Jane grinned. ‘I guess Mrs Judd will have to wait, then. Mike was helping Lisa with an admission a while back. Try the staffroom.’
Half expecting to find Lisa with her consultant, David was relieved to find Mike sitting alone. The feeling changed to one of concern as he saw how morosely Mike was hunched over half a cup of coffee.
‘What’s up?’
‘Upsetting admission.’ Mike shook his head sadly. ‘Fourteen-year-old boy with cardiomyopathy, Stephen Taylor. He’s been on the waiting list for a cardiac transplant for over six months. Went up to Auckland a couple of months ago but it all fell through. He’s not looking good right now.’ Mike sighed heavily. ‘Stephen’s a great favourite around here. He’s got a brilliant attitude to life. He’s particularly attached to Lisa Kennedy. She’ll probably be here all night, watching him like a hawk.’
‘Are you planning to hang around as well?’
‘No.’ Mike stood up and emptied his cold coffee down the sink. ‘Lisa’s more than capable of handling things and knows when to call me if she isn’t.’
‘Are you otherwise free?’
‘Of course. Permanent state of affairs these days.’
‘Good.’ David was determined to cheer his friend up. ‘Gerry Greene’s invited us both for dinner. Probably wants to rehash unsavoury memories. Could be just what you need.’
‘Could be.’ Mike was looking more cheerful already. ‘Sounds great. Gerry’s over the other side of town. Do you want me to give you a lift?’
‘No, thanks anyway. I’ve bought a car and this will give me the opportunity to give it a test run. I’ll meet you there at seven.’
The car was a heap but it had been all David could afford without putting himself into serious hock. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea, buying his parents that town house as a present to celebrate his father’s retirement. Property in central Auckland didn’t come cheap. Hell, it didn’t even come reasonable. Then he grinned as the engine on the aging Toyota finally caught and held. Of course it had been worth it. His parents had struggled financially all their lives and it had been their sacrifice that got him through medical school. The look on their faces when he’d presented them with the keys!
He had flown home for the occasion, having had his younger sister, Melanie, and a real-estate agent make all the arrangements. The project had had the useful spin-off of keeping Melanie out of trouble for longer than usual. His parents had been pleased enough about that—they couldn’t believe it when the reason for their daughter’s preoccupation had been revealed. The Jameses had only ever lived in rented houses and retirement had simply been yet another financial challenge. Now they could look forward to having the time of their lives. They were both fit and healthy.
Maybe when he got back on his feet again he’d shout them a trip through Europe. His own two-month jaunt, before returning to New Zealand, had been a wonderful experience but had also been responsible for clearing the last of his savings.
David joined the still heavy stream of traffic circling Hagley Park. At the first set of traffic lights the engine on his car died suddenly. David swore softly but got it started again just as the car behind gave him a blast on its horn. He began to feel concerned about his purchase but it seemed to be running fine until he had to slow for the roundabout at the next corner. The engine cut out without so much as a cough.
David tried to restart repeatedly as the traffic banked up around him. Cars tried to edge into the other lane to pass the obstacle he had created but other motorists were having none of it. Angry shouts and blaring horns contributed to the build-up of road rage. David opened his door, having released his handbrake. He ignored the insults thrown from a car of youths beside him and began to push, one hand on the steering-wheel, the other on the roof above the door opening. Nobody offered to help.
Once rolling, the car gathered speed and David fought to control the steering while he aimed for the side of the road. A front wheel mounted the kerb and David dived for the handbrake as he saw the cyclist on the footpath. Now he was stationary but only the front half of the car was off the road. He was still causing a traffic hazard. With an apologetic grin at the alarmed cyclist David released the catch and opened the bonnet. Surely someone would be able to offer a hand with his distress so clearly advertised.
Sure enough, a car pulled up, neatly mounting the kerb to park on the footpath, well out of the way of the traffic. A shiny, low-slung, convertible MGB. Bright red. A car buff! Just what the doctor ordered.
The driver climbed out. High-heeled shoes, long, slim legs, a neatly fitting skirt with a slit up the side.
‘No…’ David groaned. ‘It couldn’t be!’
It was. Lisa Kennedy had swapped her white coat for a tailored jacket in the same fabric as her skirt. She looked as though she would have a briefcase and several cellphones on her passenger seat.
‘Having problems?’
‘You haven’t got a cellphone on you, have you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Could you ring someone for me?