Page 9 of Doc Hollywood

“Thanks. Stop CPR.” Clara reached forward, feeling for the patient’s carotid pulse while she the defib screen. “Okay. I have a pulse.”

She reached back and hit the blood pressure cuff to cycle again, silent as she waited for the numbers to flash up on the screen. “Blood pressure eighty systolic.”

Clara picked up the syringe of adrenaline and flushed more into the line. “Lauren. I’ll need you to set me up for an arterial line. Gemma, can you get some hydrocortisone into the patient and take the tryptases.”

Her head swivelled to the surgeon. “Ron, did you get a look at the appendix? Does it need to come out?”

“Yeah. Red and on the verge of bursting. We’ve got to do it,” Ron confirmed.

“Okay. No problems.” She swung open the door of the anaesthetic bay through which Lauren had disappeared. “And we need a central line, and I’m going to need an adrenaline infusion.”

“No problems,” Lauren acknowledged.

Clara’s eyes swept the room, catching on the actor, standing tucked in the corner, his back to the wall; he wasn’t hard to spot as he was a head taller than most people.

She nodded to him and called over. “Are you okay?”

Clara grinned wryly under her mask when he slowly nodded in return. This was far more eventful than she expected her day to be.

She spent the next couple of hours putting in more large drips, keeping the patient stable while the surgeons operated, and then transferring the patient up to the intensive care unit. She forgot Taylor was with her, a giant silent shadow, as she concentrated on her job.

He watched the efficiency with which she worked and the humour that had immediately returned when the patient stabilised. The only part he didn’t follow her for was when she walked into a room to speak to the mother of the twenty-one-year-old boy who was now ventilated in intensive care.

When Clara exited the room after talking to the boy’s family, they walked in silence together back to the theatre complex. She rubbed her neck to try and relieve some of the tension in it.

Taylor checked his watch, and after the last few hours of being silent and blending into the background—well, blending as much as you could when you’re a six-foot-five movie star, whoeven when people didn’t recognise you behind a mask and hat, they would still stare at you because of your height and build.

He finally spoke. “I don’t know about you. But I could use a coffee.”

“Yeah. I would love a coffee.” Her voice held her mental exhaustion.

“Which way is the café? Let’s go and grab one.” He stopped in the middle of the corridor.

She walked another twenty meters before realising he wasn’t next to her. “What are you doing?” she called back to him.

“I’m going to the café. It’s this way.” He gestured over his shoulder at the sign behind him, pointing to the coffee shop.

She opened her mouth to tell him that he needed to go back to the theatre when she remembered that he wasn’t a medical student, and instead said, “Yeah, it’s that way, one level down.” She indicated the way to go, then kept walking.

“You said you wanted a coffee,” he called after her.

“I’ll get some in theatre. The next patient is in the anaesthetic bay. But you should go and get what you want. Grab yourself some food too; refuel while you can.” She waved to him.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Taylor sounded confused.

“Yeah, I’ve got some food in my bag.” She paused, not wanting to yell too loudly.

“But you wanted coffee.” Taylor gestured down the corridor again

“Yeah.” Clara nodded.

“Don’t you want a proper coffee?”

“I would love a proper coffee.” She sighed at the thought of a chocolate-topped cappuccino.

Maybe if she asked Lauren nicely, she would nip down and grab her one. It didn’t even cross her mind to ask the actor to get her one, as she didn’t have her credit card with her to give him to pay.

“So come to the café. Take a few minutes to decompress. That was intense.”

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