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It was after lunch when Melanie Palmer returned from Theatre.
‘They took out her appendix and irrigated her peritoneal cavity,’ Andreas told Libby as they settled the little girl back onto the ward. ‘We’ll continue the antibiotics and keep her nil by mouth until she’s got bowel sounds.’
‘Was it the GP’s fault?’ Libby asked softly. ‘Should he have spotted it?’
Andreas pulled a face. ‘In my opinion her clinical condition should have alerted him to the fact that it was something serious, but appendicitis in young children is notoriously hard to diagnose. Children tend to present late and a high percentage perforate before they get to see a doctor. In children under the age of three appendicitis is hardly ever diagnosed before perforation, but in her case…’ He gave a shrug. ‘Hard to say whether her GP could have diagnosed it earlier. I think he should have had a high index of suspicion but it’s immaterial now.’
Libby was only too aware that Andreas had made his diagnosis within minutes of examining the child. But, then, she’d already seen enough of him to know that he was a very skilled paediatrician.
What with Rachel and Melanie, it had been a bad couple of days for GPs.
Mrs Palmer hurried into the room, her expression anxious. ‘Is she all right?’
‘She’s fine. She’s had painkillers down in Theatre so she’s sleeping now,’ Libby told her. ‘We’ll keep an eye on her and if she needs more, she can have them.’
Andreas explained the operation to Mrs Palmer and then moved towards the door. ‘I’m just going to A and E to see a patient but you can bleep me if you need me.’
He walked out of the room and Mrs Palmer looked after him wistfully. ‘He’s a very good doctor.’
‘He is, isn’t he?’ Libby agreed softly. ‘He’s a very good doctor indeed.’
Looks and a brain, she thought gloomily. A lethal combination.
She was in the storeroom towards the end of her shift when Andreas strolled up behind her.
‘About this date you owe me…’ His tone was smooth and enticing and she shivered with a response so powerful that she was forced to snatch in a gasp of air.
He was just so good-looking it wasn’t fair. It would have been so easy to persuade herself that he’d be different.
Severely shaken by her own thoughts, she made a supreme effort to look bored. ‘What date, Dr Christakos?’
Before he could reply, Philip’s voice came from behind him. ‘I was looking for Libby.’
Libby tensed in horror and backed away further into the storeroom but it was too late. He’d seen her.
Dealing Andreas a frosty glare, Philip walked into the room. ‘This obviously isn’t the place to say what needs to be said,’ he muttered stiffly, ‘so I just wanted to check you’re still all right for the ball in three weeks’ time.’
Libby’s mouth fell open.
Did he seriously think that she’d still go to the ball with him after what had happened? The nerve of the man! Did he have no morals?
Wrestling with her temper, she struggled to find her voice. ‘No, Dr Graham,’ she croaked shakily, ‘I’m not all right for the ball.’
Philip frowned and looked pointedly at Andreas. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a conversation with Libby on my own.’
Andreas didn’t budge an inch, his usually warm dark eyes suddenly cold. ‘I mind.’
Philip coloured slightly. ‘We have personal matters to discuss—’
‘We have nothing whatsoever to discuss,’ Libby said tartly, relieved that Andreas hadn’t abandoned her to her fate. ‘And I most certainly won’t be going to the ball with you.’
‘Oh…’ Philip looked slightly taken aback. ‘But we agreed—’
‘If you’re short of a partner, I’m sure your wife would be happy to oblige,’ Libby said sweetly, aware that Andreas had leaned his broad shoulders against the wall and was watching the encounter with an ominous expression on his handsome face.
Philip coloured unattractively. ‘I’ve already explained to you that we’re separated,’ he muttered, and Libby lifted an eyebrow.
‘Separated?’ Sparks of anger lit her blue eyes and she curled her fists into her palms. ‘Well, you certainly didn’t look separated when I saw you the other morning.’
Philip gritted his teeth. ‘I can explain, Libby. Listen to me—’
‘No, you listen to me.’ Libby took a step towards him, deriving considerable satisfaction from the fact that he backed away from her. ‘You are a scumbag, Philip,’ she said tightly. ‘And if you want to talk to someone, I suggest you talk to your wife.’
