George Barnabas - 04 - Fourth Attempt Read Online Free PDF Page A

be a pity.
    Hattie moved into her line of sight and she lifted her chin at her cheerfully. After a moment’s hesitation Hattie came over to join them. ‘I saw you a while back,’ she said. ‘When I got here. But I didn’t want to intrude.’ She looked with limpid eyes at George and dared her to say a word.
    ‘It’s no intrusion!’ Zack said. ‘Good to talk to you at any time, Hattie.’ He grinned at her too and as she grinned back George felt a stab of-what? Irritation was too strong a word, and yet…
    ‘Why should you be intruding?’ she said lightly. ‘This is the old man’s farewell bash, not a private party.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Hattie said, peering up at them with bright eyes. ‘You both looked so absorbed in what you were talking about.’
    ‘Probably,’ Zack said. ‘I’ve been told I’m at risk of turning into a real nerdish bore because work is all I ever talk about. Right, George?’ This time he grinned at George, which madeher feel better. They hadn’t even mentioned his work tonight, hadn’t talked about anything much, but it pleased her that he should speak so; it felt like a defence. Then she drew her brows together for a brief moment. Why on earth should she feel she needed any defence against Hattie, her old friend? This wine must be going to my head, she thought. I’m thinking rubbish.
    There was a little flurry at the far end of the room which was now quite crowded as more and more of the staff arrived. Surgeons congregated with surgeons as usual; George could see Keith Le Queux and Robert Gray, the gynaecologist, with their heads together as Kate Sayers, like Le Queux from the Renal Unit, and Peter Selby, an ENT man, talked earnestly to them over Gerald Mayer-France’s shoulder, while in another cluster the physicians huddled in exactly the same sort of way. Agnew Byford from Cardiology was standing next to Barbara Rosen, the psychiatrist, as Maurice Carvalho, the diabetologist, talked confidentially into his left ear. Only Neville Carr, the oncologist, stood aloof from his colleagues, though he had found congenial company; standing with an air of eager subservience at his side was one of the young men from Radiology, the senior radiologist, George seemed to remember, and she was amused. The only person no one at Old East gossiped about was Neville Carr. Not any more, not since he’d come out and told everyone in the sunniest manner possible that he was gay, had been gay all his professional life and was damned if he was going to apologize for it any longer.
    The only people who weren’t talking to each other were the anaesthetists, who had distributed themselves amongst other groups. There was David Denton, chatting up Margaret Cotton, the Head of Finance, and Heather Dannay, the Head of Anaesthetics, scowling into her glass and clearly hating everyone around her, and the most recently joined of the Gasman Team (as they were commonly known), James Corton, leaning against the wall in a brown study, clearlyanywhere but here. George felt sorry for him, he looked so lonely; and she had a sudden memory of her own first days at Old East. It wasn’t the most welcoming of places to newcomers, and she would, she decided, make an effort to talk to him some time.
    Someone tapped a microphone in the maddening manner that microphones seem to force on certain types and there was a booming ‘testing, testing, can you hear me?’ followed by a cough that made several people with acute hearing wince. Professor Hunnisett looked expectantly at the corner of the room where the microphone was and slowly the chatter died away.
    ‘It’s good to see so many of you here tonight!’ Matthew Herne, the Hospital Chief Executive Officer, was looking exceedingly dapper, George decided, in a fine houndstooth suit which had the silky sheen that spoke of expensive cloth. I wish he were more thoughtful, though, she thought, looking sideways at some of the other younger men in the room, the registrars