him over thoroughly before we discharge him. And he will need to see a speech therapist to check if he has velopharyngeal incompetence.’
‘It’s called VPI for short and it’s quite common in children with repaired cleft palates,’ Jennifer said. ‘All it means is that his soft palate is a bit short or doesn’t move enough, so too much air will escape through his nose when he speaks and he’ll sound nasal. The speech therapist can do quite a lot to help the condition.’
She was good with parents, and very knowledgeable. No wonder she’d made senior sister at a young age, Ramón thought. But he wished he had some idea why her eyes were looking daggers at him.
‘Can we stay with him?’ Mandy asked.
‘For as long as you like. Did Lizzy give you a card for the coffee-machine?’
Paul shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. We can take turns going down to the canteen.’
‘The machine isn’t that bad. I’ll get someone to bring you a card anyway. You probably remember the routine from the op on his cleft lip two months ago,’ Jennifer said, ‘but I’ll remind you anyway. There’s a phone for incoming calls at the end of Red Bay—the number’s on the wall above the phone if you need to give it to anyone—and there’s a payphone at the entrance to the ward.’
‘And don’t use a mobile, because it might interfere with the equipment,’ Mandy said.
Jennifer grinned. ‘Excellent. Well-trained parents. Just what we like to see.’
She was teasing them? Teasing the parents of a child he’d just operated on and who were clearly worried about their baby? Ramón was about to step in when he saw that Mandy and Paul were both laughing. The English had a strange sense of humour, he mused.
Though that grin…Lord, if she ever looked like that at him, he’d be a gibbering wreck. The smile turned her face from ordinary to stunning. And he wanted her. Badly.
And then Jennifer was speaking again. ‘If you’re worried at all about Stephen or you have any queries, just come and find me or one of the other nurses.’
‘Thanks.’ Paul smiled at her.
‘Do you have any other questions?’ Ramón asked.
‘Not right now,’ Mandy said.
‘Then I’ll leave you with your son.’
To his surprise, Sister Jacobs followed him. ‘I wondered if we could have a quick word in my office, Dr Martinez?’
She was very formal with him, he noticed—and yet she’d used first names with Stephen’s parents. The smile had gone, too. Ramón had a feeling he was just about to find out what had upset Sister Jennifer Jacobs. ‘Of course,’ he said politely, and walked with her to her office.
‘Do sit down,’ she said, indicating a seat next to her desk and closing the door behind them.
‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘You.’
He blinked. ‘What?’
‘Lizzy Bowers. You bawled her out in front of Stephen’s parents and made her cry.’
He gave a short laugh of disbelief. ‘She was dropping things everywhere. When I asked her a question, she couldn’t answer because she hadn’t been listening to what I was saying. And I will not tolerate sloppy nursing, particularly with young children who have just come round from a general anaesthetic and whose parents are worried sick.’
‘Lizzy’s my best student—she’s in her final year, she’s passed her exams so far with flying colours and she’s very far from sloppy. And I, Dr Martínez, will not tolerate any doctor bullying my staff. You owe her an apology.’
Her voice was quiet and controlled—and absolutely implacable. This was a woman who didn’t need to shout to make her point.
But he had a point, too. A good one. He folded his arms. ‘Sister Jacobs, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. My patient comes first. And I expect any nurse on this ward to be competent.’
‘Lizzy is perfectly competent.’
‘Not from what I saw.’
‘At the moment she’s a little sensitive.’ Jennifer bit her lip. ‘Look, this isn’t common knowledge on the ward, so I trust you will keep what I tell you confidential?’
She’d phrased it as a question but he knew it wasn’t a request. He nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Her aunt has breast cancer. They’re waiting for a biopsy result to see whether it’s spread to the lymph nodes.’
‘And Lizzy’s close to this aunt?’ Ramón guessed.
‘Her aunt brought her up. So it’s more like a mother-daughter bond.’
Ramón nodded. ‘I didn’t know about her family problems. But my patients must come first. If she can’t concentrate on her job, she should take some time off.’
‘Keeping busy is the best thing you can do while you’re waiting for news.’
‘Not when it puts my patients at risk.’
‘Lizzy is a perfectly competent nurse,’ she repeated. ‘If you have an issue with her work, by all means talk to her about it—but in private. Not in front of patients, or their parents, or other staff. I expect my nurses to be treated with respect, as the professionals they are.’
Professional. That was it—the word he’d been looking for. Jennifer Jacobs was professional in the extreme. And he had a sudden wild urge to find out what she was really like. To find out what made her laugh. How her eyes would look in passion—would they turn blue or grey? What did she look like when she’d just been thoroughly kissed?
‘Dr Martínez?’
‘My name is Ramón.’
Melted chocolate. Oh, no. Jennifer wished Meg hadn’t said that. Because she had the most graphic vision of Ramón feeding her rich, dark chocolate, piece by piece, teasing her by stroking it over her mouth and moving it out of reach so she had to reach up for it. And then he’d reach down to kiss her, and—
No way was she going to call him Ramón. It was too close, too intimate, too… ‘Dr Martínez,’ she repeated, her mouth dry.
He gave her a quizzical look, and she only hoped he couldn’t read her mind. How could she tell him off for unprofessional behaviour when her own thoughts were even less professional?
‘Sister Jacobs,’ he said softly, ‘we’ve got off to a bad start.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll apologise to Nurse Bowers. But I’d like you to have a word with her, explain that if she doesn’t feel up to the job then she should take time off so the patients aren’t affected.’
‘I’ve already done that.’
‘I see.’ He folded his arms. ‘Then perhaps we can start again. I prefer to work with first names. You’re Jennifer, yes?’
She twisted the ring on her finger. Remember Andrew. Remember Andrew. ‘Yes.’ The word was virtually torn from her. She wanted to stay Sister Jacobs to this man. Aloof, remote, untouchable. Or even JJ, the nickname everyone else in the hospital used. But not Jennifer. It was too personal. Too dangerous.
‘And I’m Ramón.’ He stood up and gave her a formal bow. ‘I trust we shall work well together on my secondment to the Bradley Memorial Hospital.’
‘Brad’s.’
He frowned. ‘Brad’s?’
‘That’s what we call it. The hospital.’ Hell. Now she was babbling, and he’d think she was an idiot.
No. It didn’t matter