to ask her to deal with it. Instead he’d said, ‘Mind carrying on here?’ and strode off.
She handled the ward round well, she thought, assimilating the information about each patient as it was presented to her and ordering discharges, changes in medication and transfers to other wards. Many of the patients were groggy after anaesthetics, and more than a few were in considerable pain. Quite often they’d address the junior doctor at Melissa’s side, who was about her age but, crucially, was male, and they’d look surprised when he deferred to Melissa and they realised she was in charge. It was a reaction she’d become used to ever since medical school, and she was prepared to encounter it more and more as she carved a niche for herself in her chosen specialty.
Melissa assumed she’d catch up with her boss at some point during the day, so she spent the rest of the morning introducing herself to the remaining staff, familiarising herself with the department’s layout and computer systems, and taking a tour of the Accident and Emergency Department where she offered advice to the staff on the management of a patient with a broken leg which, while a nasty and messy injury, wasn’t severe enough to require specialist trauma surgeon intervention.
By early afternoon Melissa decided things were as quiet as they were likely to get, and went in search of the canteen for a bite. She was tucking into a plate of lasagne when a female voice said, ‘Mind if I join you?’
Standing by the table, a loaded tray balanced precariously on her hands, was a young woman of around Melissa’s age, perhaps a year or two older, with short black hair and a wide-eyed, smiling face. Like Melissa she was in a white coat and had a stethoscope slung across her shoulders. Melissa had seen her around the Trauma Department that morning but hadn’t been introduced.
‘Of course.’ She waved at the seat opposite. The woman put down her tray and sat, then offered her hand.
‘Emma Callaghan. I’m Professor Penney’s registrar.’
Melissa shook. ‘Melissa Havers –’
‘I know.’ Emma beamed. ‘Great to have another girl here. One day this won’t be such a boys’ club any more.’
They chatted amicably. Emma intended to specialise in gastrointestinal surgery but was rotating through Trauma for the experience. Her husband was a paediatrician at St Matthew’s so the job was convenient all round, and she’d been there now for a year.
‘What’s Professor Penney like to work with?’ asked Melissa.
‘Prof? He’s lovely. Like a big teddy bear. But a brilliant mind, as you know, of course.’ Emma ate in silence for a few moments, then said: ‘Have you met Fin yet?’
‘Fin?’
Emma laughed. ‘Mr Finmore-Gage. Everyone calls him Fin. It’s less of a mouthful. He doesn’t mind.’
‘Yes, I’ve met him.’ Melissa kept her voice neutral, furious at the flush she could feel spreading across her face.
If Emma noticed, she didn’t show it. ‘You’re in for a tough time.’
Melissa was thrown. ‘Why?’
‘He’s a hard taskmaster. Demands the earth, of himself as well as others. A great teacher, and a fantastic surgeon. Better than the Prof, really, even in his heyday. But…’
‘Yes?’ Melissa found herself gripped with apprehension, as though Emma was about to reveal a dire secret.
‘But, a difficult man to read. Not moody, just… a closed book. You know? Private.’
‘Is he –’ Melissa said before she could stop herself. She closed her mouth, and obviously looked so comical Emma laughed.
‘Gay? No.’
‘That wasn’t what I was going to –’
‘I know.’ Emma patted her hand. ‘You were going to ask if he’s married.’ Before Melissa could protest – even though Emma had correctly guessed Melissa’s question – Emma said, ‘He isn’t. But he was once. That’s all I know.’ She watched Melissa, her eyes mischievous. ‘He’s terribly good looking, though, isn’t he?’
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Melissa answered, too quickly. For a moment they stared at one another. Then they both burst out laughing, causing heads to turn.
They chatted on, talking about their chosen careers and life at St Matthew’s. Melissa found it difficult to pay attention to what her new friend was saying because her thoughts kept returning to Mr Finmore-Gage. Fin. His face hovered before her, strong, confident, with a slightly wry mouth and those eyes that could switch from professionally appraising to amused in an instant.
A hard taskmaster. Well, she could appreciate that. She’d had to develop a core of steel herself to make it through medical school and beyond, though she hoped it hadn’t turned her jaded and