a small container of talcum powder.
‘Curtains, Nurse,’ Sister Marton said briskly from behind her.
Olivia gave a guilty start and turned selfconsciously, only to collide with the person standing directly behind her. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, her lids fluttering up to meet frosty grey eyes, no sympathy for her embarrassment in the hard face as the man brushed past her to begin examining Mrs Bateson.
She beat a hasty retreat, joining the other nurses who had disappeared into the clinic-room at the advent of a consultant.
‘I see they’ve brought in the big man himself,’ Katy Barnes said softly.
‘Who is he?’ Olivia demanded of her fellow student-nurse in a whisper. As the two most junior nurses they were still a little shy about joining in conversations with the older girls.
‘Marcus Hamilton!’ Katy told her, scandalised that she hadn’t recognised him. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’
He certainly was, as handsome as he was reputed to be. Olivia had heard the hospital gossip about the attractive Mr Hamilton, the hospital’s top surgeon, and having now seen him she had to agree with the majority view—he was devastatingly handsome! He was very tall, with dark brown hair, kept short and tinged with grey at his temples, the face strong and dominating; the grey eyes piercing, the nose long and straight, his mouth stern and forbidding, the jaw angled squarely. As a consultant, high above the level of a doctor, he wore no white coat to identify him, and his dark three-piece suit was superbly tailored to his powerful body, his legs long and muscled.
He was breathtaking, and even Mrs Bateson was later full of her ‘handsome young doctor’, although Marcus Hamilton was obviously in his early thirties. That must have seemed young to Mrs Bateson, although it seemed very mature to Olivia.
After that initial encounter she saw Marcus about the hospital several times, occasionally with other consultants or doctors, but usually alone. He seemed a very solitary man, his aloofness from the rest of the hospital staff making him a prime target for gossip, although it was the same aloofness that made it difficult to find out too much about him. And Olivia was very interested in knowing about him, suffering from her first crush ever on an older man.
It was one day two weeks after their first meeting that Marcus actually spoke to her—and in the circumstances she would rather he hadn’t.
Mrs Bateson had been looking anxiously at the open ward door all during visiting time, and finally it was Marcus Hamilton who came through it and walked to her beside, pulling the curtains about the bed himself, emerging ten minutes later, when all the visitors had gone from the ward, with his face set in harsh lines.
‘Nurse!’ he called Olivia over from where she had been hovering, worried by this strange turn of events.
‘Yes?’ She looked up at him with wide green eyes, so nervous she was shaking. ‘Sir,’ she added belatedly.
He seemed not to notice the drop of etiquette. ‘Would you go in with Mrs Bateson for several minutes? I don’t want her to be alone, one of her daughters should be in soon.’
‘Er—Of course,’ she looked startled. ‘What—–’
‘Her husband has just died.’
Olivia didn’t wait to hear any more, but hurried to the elderly lady’s bedside with a strangulated cry of pain. The light had gone from Mrs Bateson’s eyes, and all she could do was clutch on to Olivia’s hand as if she never wanted to let go. She didn’t even cry, although Olivia felt as if she needed to. Sister Marton looked in a few minutes after Marcus had left, nodding approvingly before quietly leaving again.
Time seemed to stand still after that, the time passing although neither of them seemed aware of it; there was no conversation between them, the elderly lady seeming to draw comfort from Olivia being at her side.
Suddenly Mrs Bateson spoke. ‘We always said we wanted to go together,’ she murmured softly.
‘Mrs Bateson—–’
‘I can’t go on without Bert,’ the old lady told her sadly. ‘One day you’ll understand, Olivia,’ she used her first name without conscious thought, although Olivia couldn’t remember ever telling it to the other woman, the familiarity not really being allowed. Not that she thought anyone would object in the circumstances! ‘I’ve loved Bert all my life, and without him I just don’t want to live.’ She lay very still in the bed.
‘Mrs Bateson, you mustn’t talk this way—–’
‘Nurse King!’
Olivia looked up to see Marcus Hamilton standing just outside the slightly opened curtains that were still pulled about the bed, gently releasing her hand from Mrs Bateson’s to go to him. ‘Yes, sir?’ she queried softly, amazed that he knew her name.
‘How is she?’ His expression was intent.
It was a strange question for a consultant to ask a junior nurse—after all, he was the expert. ‘Er—she’s very shocked—sir,’ she moistened her lips in her nervousness. ‘Although she seems to be coming out of that now,’ she frowned her concern.
‘Yes?’ Marcus Hamilton sensed her worry.
‘She’s talking about dying.’
‘God! Sorry, Nurse King,’ he was at once the controlled consultant once again, ‘I’m going in to talk to her for a few minutes—the family have been delayed, it’s been a great shock to them too. But Sister Marton tells me you have a special relationship with Mrs Bateson?’ His eyes were narrowed.
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘Er—yes, I—I like to think I do,’ she nodded.
‘Then I would appreciate it if you would continue to sit with her once I’ve left.’
‘Yes, Doc—er—sir. Of course.’ She felt no hesitation, although they both knew she should have been off duty hours ago. Or perhaps he didn’t know; he was hardly likely to know the hours of a first-year nurse. But it didn’t matter anyway, she had no intention of leaving the elderly lady.
Marcus Hamilton nodded dismissively. ‘Get yourself a cup of tea and something to eat while I’m with Mrs Bateson. You have about ten minutes,’ he told her arrogantly.
Miraculously Sister Marton had arranged a hot meal and drink for her. ‘You should have gone hours ago,’ she tutted as she supervised the meal. ‘But Mr Hamilton has been most insistent that you stay with Mrs Bateson. I must say that in the circumstances, I agree with him.’
The consultant strode from the ward exactly ten minutes later, his jaw rigid as Olivia hurried past him to return to the elderly lady’s bedside.
‘He’s a nice young man,’ Mrs Bateson sighed, ‘but he doesn’t understand a love like Bert’s and mine.’
‘He’s married—–’
‘Separated, he told me.’ She shook her head. ‘You young people take your marriage vows so lightly nowadays!’
‘I’m not married, Mrs Bateson,’ Olivia reminded her gently.
‘You will be.’ Mrs Bateson nodded approvingly. ‘And your husband is going to be a lucky man. You’re a lovely child, Olivia, so wait for the right man to come along—like I did.’
Shortly after that the elderly lady fell asleep, although Olivia still remained at her side, the gnarled work-worn fingers curved trustingly about hers. It had been dark for several hours when Marcus Hamilton appeared again, and considering what a busy man he was Olivia was touched by his concern for his patient. It couldn’t have been the most pleasant of duties to tell her about her husband.
Olivia easily released her hand this time, making her way outside the curtains to speak to him.
‘How is she?’ His expression was grim.
‘Asleep,’ she whispered, as the rest of the