resisted the ridiculous urge to explain and sat back on her stool and spun to look into crib. Both babies were stable and it wasn’t time for more observations so she turned back to find Hunter still staring at her. She raised her eyebrows in a ‘what?’ gesture and his gaze moved over her dismissively before he turned away without answering.
Marcus watched him walk away. ‘What’s wrong with the boss?’
Kirsten shrugged and tucked her hands into her pockets to hide the effect Hunter’s disdain had had on her.
Hunter glared at the point where the exit light showed the way out and strode faster than usual towards the door. He’d actually felt like lifting Gleeson up by the scruff of his skinny neck and tossing him out the third-floor window. Which was not a normal thought. Up until today he’d quite liked the young chap. Hunter frowned. He supposed Gleeson was only a couple of years younger than he was, but Hunter felt like an old man compared to his registrar.
He’d seen the smile Kirsten had given Gleeson and the way she’d hugged him. Hunter had thought Gleeson was enamoured by Patricia and had spent his coffee-break steering the young woman towards Marc and away from himself. That was probably why he felt so annoyed. The flat of his hand slapped the door open. Lack of sleep could make you intolerant—though he hadn’t noticed that problem before tonight. Perhaps he was getting old.
On Kirsten’s first shift back at MIRA she started at seven in the morning. It felt strange to be back in the familiar spread of rooms and balconies. She found her old locker with the key sticking out waiting for her, and she had to smile. Maggie would have done that.
Kirsten had brought a bag of things from home to keep on site and there was a feeling of déjà vu in packing them back into the locker, having emptied it eighteen months ago. She tucked her bathroom bag, small pillow and quilt at the back for those nights when all the checking and cleaning was finished and they were waiting for a call. If she was going to do extra nights in the nursery she might be glad of an hour’s catch-up sleep.
Headquarters had two bedrooms with proper beds, a sofa in the TV room and a fold-up bed that could be erected in the education room. But from past experience she knew there wasn’t usually much chance of sleep.
Most days, the MIRA staff averaged two retrievals per ten-hour shift, with each trip taking between three to five hours. Sometimes it was much longer if the infant was difficult to stabilise before transfer.
Hunter came into the room and Kirsten shoved away her box of emergency muesli bars, relieved she’d finished packing her locker. The sudden awkwardness at his presence made her press back to let him past.
The locker room was tiny and he couldn’t help brushing against her as she shrank almost inside her locker to keep out of his way. Just that minute contact made her stiffen in denial of an attraction she didn’t want to feel.
‘Worried about catching germs, Kirsten?’ he drawled, but didn’t look at her as he put away his jacket. Kirsten gritted her teeth as she backed out of the small space.
‘Don’t be a pain, Hunter.’
There was silence from behind her as she left the room. Great beginning to the first day, she chided herself, but he’d started it. She sensed him follow her out towards the kitchen. They really needed to get professional here and bury the past. She slid her lunch into the fridge and eyed the new vending machines in the kitchen that hadn’t been there last year and grinned. Sweets, chips, Coke and microwave meals—a truly balanced diet for those who wanted it.
One of the male registered nurses from the night shift wandered into the kitchen with an empty coffee-cup, let out a whoop when he saw Kirsten, picked her up and swung her around. ‘Kirsten Wilson. How the hell are you?’ he said, and gave her a big hug. At the look on Hunter’s face Kirsten could either have laughed or cried. She chose the former and hugged Paul Netherby back. Take that, Hunter Morgan, Kirsten thought as the big nurse put her down, but when she turned to see what his reaction was, Hunter had gone.
Suddenly she felt flat, and in denial she became more vivacious.
‘It’s good to see you, Paul. How’s Serena and the baby?’
The man’s face fell. ‘She left me. Not interested in taking her place, are you?’ He looked cautiously hopeful but Kirsten wasn’t fooled.
‘Nobody could take Serena’s place for you. If you’ve hurt that woman, you have some major sucking up to do and you know it.’
Paul hugged her again. ‘I love you, Kirsten Wilson.’ Hunter returned with a dirty coffee-mug and his lip curled as if he’d just swallowed a particularly loathsome insect. Kirsten signed. Paul was oblivious and dragged a stern-faced Kirsten out into the other room. ‘You know me so well,’ he chattered as they left. ‘Come and meet my partner from last night, the delectable Nicky.’
Hunter stood at the sink and stared out the window, but he couldn’t see anything. Lord, he’d had a lucky escape. That woman attracted men like flies and she seemed to lack all moral judgement. Hunter knew about poor Serena Netherby and the flighty Paul, and he’d thought they were almost back together again. And they even had a baby. Netherby was just the sort of low-life Portia, his ex-wife, would have liked, too.
He couldn’t believe Kirsten could be so stupid as to believe anything Netherby said, but obviously they’d had some kind of past relationship to be that friendly.
It was all none of his business and he’d had a lucky escape. It was good to have a calm and safe life again. Now there was no reason he and Kirsten couldn’t be professional about this—she’d always maintained that in the unit.
Ellen wandered into the kitchen to find Hunter gripping a cup, white-knuckled, at the sink.
‘You OK, Hunter? she asked, and he blinked and smiled a perfunctory greeting.
‘Fine.’ He glanced down at the cup in his hand and loosened his fingers. ‘Looks to be good flying weather out there,’ he said, and walked away.
Ellen glanced out the window at the shredded clouds scattered ahead of a thick cumulonimbus front. ‘What planet are you on today?’ she muttered, as she switched the kettle on.
Paul, Nicky and the other night team members had left and Ellen cornered Kirsten to run through the protocols and check routines. All the time Kirsten nodded that she understood, she was aware of Hunter on the sofa as he pretended to read the newspaper. He kept staring at her over the top of the pages, trying to put her off, and if he didn’t stop she’d clock the man with one of the cushions.
She knew he could get up to mischief. It would be just like him to decide to amuse himself at her expense.
Before the battle of wits could escalate, the MIRA phone rang and personal tensions disappeared. Jim took the incoming call from a base hospital on the north coast and they all looked towards the conference phone as Hunter joined in.
A three-hour-old baby boy, Isaac Curtin, had been diagnosed with a large ventricular septal defect (VSD) or hole in the heart. Born in Taree, an hour’s flight north of Sydney, baby Isaac needed to be airlifted to a major centre for care and assessment by a paediatric cardiologist and probable urgent corrective surgery.
Kirsten listened to Jim as he outlined the hospital doctor’s problem, what his needs were and other possibilities, but she could tell they all agreed retrieval was the best option. Jim conferenced the call with Hunter, a paediatric cardiologist and a surgeon in Western Sydney, and Hunter took notes on the recommended treatment for stabilisation by the MIRA team after the decision was made to transfer.
Kirsten’s heart did a little flip-flop of excitement and she couldn’t help savouring the flush of adrenalin for her first retrieval in a year and a half despite the fact she was sharing the trip with Hunter and Ellen. She shrugged. The baby and parents were the important people.
The preparation and flight routine emphasised minimum delay in departure and Kirsten pushed the equipment out onto the roof ahead of the rest as all the sequences returned from memory.
The