The Magic of Christmas by Sarah Morgan Page A

patient.
    She worked methodically, following the agreed protocol, and she had just started on the intubation tray when Christian came back into the room. She glanced at him expectantly. ‘How’s our patient doing?’
    â€˜Well, she didn’t die in the corridor, if that’swhat you’re asking me.’ His eyes were tired. ‘It’s too soon to say. Can I ask you a question?’
    â€˜Of course.’ She picked up a laryngoscope and snapped it open, checking the bulb. ‘Ask away.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you do medicine? You’re easily the brightest nurse I’ve ever worked with.’
    â€˜You think nursing is a career for those too thick to become doctors?’ Lara’s eyes twinkled. ‘Be careful where you voice that opinion, Dr Blake. You might just find yourself with a compound orbital fracture.’
    â€˜You’re threatening to black my eye?’He strolled into the room. ‘I never would have suspected that you have such a violent nature. For the record, that wasn’t what I was suggesting. Obviously nursing is a distinct career choice. The reason I wondered about you is because you’re so obviously interested in the diagnostic side of things.’
    â€˜I’m not sure that I am.’ Lara wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. ‘I think I probably just have a naturally interfering nature. And a big mouth. If I think I know what’s going on, I have to speak up.’
    â€˜Did you consider becoming a doctor?’
    â€˜No, not really. I suppose I’m more interestedin the person than the disease.’ She smiled. ‘And I’m not serious enough to be a doctor. I’d crack a joke at the wrong moment.’
    â€˜You’re serious enough when you need to be.’
    She found his gaze distinctly unsettling. ‘I don’t have the necessary cool to do the job you do. When you’re with a patient, you’re very emotionally detached.’
    â€˜My job is to deal with the immediate physical trauma.’
    â€˜And you do it brilliantly. You’re a clever man, Dr Blake.’ She put the laryngoscope back on the tray, trying to understand the sudden tension in the atmosphere. They were just colleagues—nothing more. ‘So you should be relieved that you didn’t try and see Father Christmas in his grotto yesterday, because the queues were enough to make a grown man sob. How are your girls?’
    He hesitated, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the topic of conversation. ‘Excited about Christmas. We have a new nanny installed in our house so hopefully a few of those boxes might get unpacked soon.’
    His oblique reference to Aggie’s impulsive confessionin the grotto made her wonder if he was concerned about his privacy.
    â€˜Listen, Christian, I hope you don’t feel awkward about last week. A little girl’s chat with Father Christmas should always be kept private. Just in case you’re worrying, I never repeat anything I hear in the grotto.’
    He watched her. ‘I’m not worrying. It’s hard to keep anything private with Aggie around, as you’ve probably gathered.’
    â€˜She’s adorable. You’re so lucky.’ Faint colour touched her cheeks. ‘Sorry. I mean, it’s obviously a very difficult time for you and—’
    â€˜I know I’m lucky, Lara,’ he said softly. ‘I love my girls.’
    â€˜Yes, that’s obvious.’ She gave a wistful sigh and then smiled at him. ‘It must be hard, moving house just before Christmas.’
    â€˜We moved three months ago, just before I started this job. But with the demands of a new job and the endless nightmare of nannies, I haven’t had time to finish unpacking the boxes.’ He gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘But clearly it has to be a priority now that emptying boxes is on Aggie’s Christmas list.’
    â€˜And what’s on your