Page 32 of Prognosis So Done

Gill’s deep voice was right near her ear and she could feel his heat directly behind her. It was so tempting to lean into him and she clutched the sink to stop herself from swaying back.

‘Sure,’ she said, turning around, forcing him to take a step back. ‘Just a little niggle.’

‘A niggle? Where?’

‘It’s fine, Gill,’ she said, massaging her side absently. ‘I think I have another cyst building.’

‘Oh...OK.’ He looked discomfited, like he wanted to say something more but didn’t know what. Or if it was wise. ‘Let me know if it gets worse.’

‘It’ll be fine.’ Harriet tried and failed to keep the

irritation out of her voice. The adrenaline was making her

edgy. She didn’t need him to take care of her. She’d been managing just fine without him.

‘I can’t afford to have one of my team not at a hundred per cent. If you’re going to scrub in, I need you to be on top of your game.’

Harriet glared at her husband. ‘When have I ever not been on

my game?’ she demanded.

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Gill castigated himselffor his stupidity. He was feeling worse than useless where Harriet was concerned and he’d let his frustration get the better of him. She had been badly troubled by the cysts over the years but he didn’t know what she expected of him anymore.

Was he supposed to make a fuss or just nod and let her get on with it?

It wasn’t the right time to get into any kind of conversation about it and he knew from experience that this topic was always fraught. He’d been down this road before and knew it was scattered with landmines. Talking about her cysts led to talking about her ovary and then her Fallopian tube and then her fertility and then her desire for a baby.

They had a few minutes before critically injured patients depended on them and he knew he couldn’t go into the operating theatre on the back of an argument. He needed clarity. They could potentially be operating well into the night, if not all night. It was important to not be distracted by external forces.

He couldn’t bring his relationship problems into the operating theatre. One wrong move could be potentially fatal or lengthen the operating time significantly. If he allowed himself to be distracted to the point where mistakes were made, the process slowed and things got backed up.

And potentially people died.

He truly didn’t need this now. Neither of them did. Now was the time for mental preparation. To ride the wave of adrenaline to their advantage. Hone their instincts, sharpen their vision, tune up their mental abilities.

But, if he could have bitten off his tongue right now, he would have. ‘Look, I’m sorry...that was a shitty thing to say. It’s been a hell of a day and I just...worry about you, Harry.’

‘Really?’ She raised delicately arched brows.

‘Yes. Despite everything, you are still my wife. Your

problems are my problems.’

‘Well, don’t worry, Gill,’ she said sweetly but he could hear the steel beneath. ‘Pretty soon they won’t be yours to worry about and you won’t have to worry about me being off my game.’

She pushed herself away from the sink, their arms brushing as she strode away.

Gill sighed. Great! Well done, dufus. The phone rang and he strode across the room and picked it up on the third ring. He listened for a brief second. ‘Shrapnel to the abdomen,’

he announced.

‘I’ll take it.’ Ben nodded and his team rose to do their duty.

‘I wonder if the patient was one of the bastards that shot Peter out of the sky?’ said Katya.

There was silence from everyone as Katya summed up in one sentence the conundrum of their job. Gill tried to forget that

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