Sold to the Surgeon by Ann Jennings

reassured for the night.
    Abigail smiled to herself. The new surgeon might be difficult to work with sometimes, but he was a different person with patients and patients’ relatives. He had been so gentle and kind when he had been explaining to the worried mother and father, and Abigail knew that if he promised to come back in an hour, he would keep his promise. Not something that could be said for all hospital doctors, who with the best will in the world tended to promise things, but then rush off and do something else, forgetting all about their promises. Sometimes they kept patients and relatives waiting for hours; a thoughtlessness which always annoyed Abigail.
    True to his word, Greg came back with the parents, and by the time they arrived young Steven was awake and demanding a drink. Abigail was just letting him have a sip of iced water when they arrived.
    Greg smiled, his dark eyes crinkling at the edges with pleasure at the sight of his patient sitting up. He came to the side of the bed. “That’s much better,” he said. “How are you feeling, young man?”
    â€œAll right,” croaked Steven. “I’d like something to eat.”
    â€œThere’s some ice cream in the ward kitchen,” said Abigail. “Shall I get him some?”
    â€œThank you, nurse, an excellent idea.” His sudden flashing smile had Abigail smiling back at him before she even had time to think.
    Steven smiled too, at the prospect of his ice cream, but Abigail hardly noticed. She was too busy trying to control the ridiculous sense of warmth that had flooded through her, all because the dark man opposite her had flashed her a sudden smile. For goodness’ sake, stop reacting like a gauche teenager! she scolded herself as she hurried towards the tiny kitchen.
    Once Stephen had eaten his ice cream, Greg let the parents settle him down for the night, then escorted them from the ward, reassuring them that all would now be well. Abigail stayed on for another hour, just to make certain that all really was well. Having satisfied herself that Steven was well and truly asleep, she left the ward; pausing for a moment at the nurses’ station where Joan was sitting writing.
    â€œAll’s quiet now,” she said, “and I’m going home.”
    Joan smiled gratefully. “Thanks so much for staying,” she said. “I felt happier too having you with him. The only other alternative was to put an auxiliary with him. Most of them are extremely good, but unfortunately we have Nurse Dowling on tonight.”
    Abigail laughed, “Say no more,” she said. Nurse Dowling was the night equivalent of Sue Parkins, a walking disaster zone. A situation made worse by the very fact that at night there were many fewer nurses on duty, so her opportunity to create havoc was even greater than that of Sue’s. “I hope for your sake the rest of the night is peaceful,” she said.
    Once out of the hospital she made her way through the hospital grounds towards her little car. She suddenly felt very tired and hot; inside the hospital it had been hot and airless, but outside seemed equally hot. Abigail felt drained, the long day and the heat taking their toll.
    Unlocking the car door, she heard the distant rumble of thunder; almost simultaneously large spots of rain began to splatter down from a rapidly darkening sky. A dismal start to the weekend, thought Abigail morosely, turning the key in the ignition. The engine coughed in an unresponsive way.
    â€œStart, please, please!” she muttered under her breath, trying again. The engine spluttered half-heartedly, then remained stubbornly lifeless.
    â€œOh no!” she groaned out loud. “Don’t fail me now! Not when I’m late and it’s pouring with rain!” Crossing her fingers, she said a little prayer and tried again, but exactly the same thing happened. Just what I need, she thought in despair, leaning her head on the