Read Online George Barnabas - 04 - Fourth Attempt by Claire Rayner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Claire Rayner
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was behaving foolishly. The trouble was she found Zack interesting, the sort of man who, pre Gus, she would have fancied and made a distinct effort to get to know well. Very well, even.
Pre Gus she had been, and she had known it perfectly well, a woman who was extremely susceptible to masculine beauty. And personality and wit and charm. Frankly, as she had told herself once, long ago, after yet another of her hopeful relationships had foundered, she liked men too much as male creatures rather than as people. She was a goddamn pushover for them. Despite her very real championship of feminist causes and her frequent irritation with male domination of almost everything (well, perhaps not everything, but certainly a hell of a lot) she found male attention irresistible.
And Zack fancied her. Of that she was in no doubt, and it alarmed her. She had been genuinely in love with Gus Hathaway for a long time now, two and a half years. He had spoken of marriage and dammit, they nearly had done the deed. Would have done, had she not backed down. He still intended to marry her, she knew, and she also knew that she intended to marry him — eventually. Yet she could still be attracted to a man who was attracted to her, and it was a damned nuisance, to put it at its very least. A downright shameful one if she was to be as honest as she should be with herself.
She became aware of James Corton’s steady gaze on her and broke off. She had been chattering about last night’s party and how dull it had been, and she had probably repeated herself several times; now she smiled at him rather ruefully.
‘Hell, you must think I’m really crazy,’ she said. ‘I make a pest of myself pushing in and then talk your ears off. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, not at all, not at all,’ he said.
She looked at him with sympathy. He was sweating slightly, a faint mist of dampness glowing across his rathernarrow forehead and darkening the roots of his fair hair. He had lashes and brows of the same lightness which gave him a sandy look, but he seemed agreeable enough. About thirty, she hazarded, and still low on the ladder to success in his career.
‘So tell me,’ she said, making an effort not to look over her shoulder and to stop thinking about her confusion regarding Zack. ‘How’s life in the Gas Fight And Choke Company?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ He looked startled.
‘Hey, don’t tell me I get to explain an English joke to an English person! Someone told me when I first came to work here. There used to be a company in London selling gas and coke and so forth called the Gaslight and Coke Company. Like, sixty years ago or more? And anaesthetists came to be called Gas Fight and Choke people. I thought all anaesthetics people knew that.’
He went a sudden scarlet, the colour leaping across his face so fast that she could see it happen, and the sweating increased; with his rather protuberant greenish eyes, she thought, he looks like a freshly boiled kitten. ‘I suppose I’d heard it and forgotten,’ he mumbled.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said kindly. ‘Anyway, it’s a very old joke and perhaps it just doesn’t mean anything to younger people in the field. So, do you like anaesthetics?’
‘Er, well, yes,’ he said and she stifled a tinge of irritation. Talking to this chap was like walking over a ploughed field in high-heeled pumps. ‘I mean, it’s the speciality I’ve chosen.’
‘Ah? Then you’re staying in it? I mean, you don’t see this as a step on the way to something else?’
‘Like what?’ He looked genuinely puzzled and she explained patiently.
‘The pain people — the consultants who run pain clinics and deal with intractable pain problems as well as terminal pain — aren’t they always anaesthetists?’
To her relief he became a little more animated. ‘Not all of them. There’re neurologists in it as well. And some pharmacologists,of course. There was an interesting paper on the use of sodium channel
Pre Gus she had been, and she had known it perfectly well, a woman who was extremely susceptible to masculine beauty. And personality and wit and charm. Frankly, as she had told herself once, long ago, after yet another of her hopeful relationships had foundered, she liked men too much as male creatures rather than as people. She was a goddamn pushover for them. Despite her very real championship of feminist causes and her frequent irritation with male domination of almost everything (well, perhaps not everything, but certainly a hell of a lot) she found male attention irresistible.
And Zack fancied her. Of that she was in no doubt, and it alarmed her. She had been genuinely in love with Gus Hathaway for a long time now, two and a half years. He had spoken of marriage and dammit, they nearly had done the deed. Would have done, had she not backed down. He still intended to marry her, she knew, and she also knew that she intended to marry him — eventually. Yet she could still be attracted to a man who was attracted to her, and it was a damned nuisance, to put it at its very least. A downright shameful one if she was to be as honest as she should be with herself.
She became aware of James Corton’s steady gaze on her and broke off. She had been chattering about last night’s party and how dull it had been, and she had probably repeated herself several times; now she smiled at him rather ruefully.
‘Hell, you must think I’m really crazy,’ she said. ‘I make a pest of myself pushing in and then talk your ears off. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, not at all, not at all,’ he said.
She looked at him with sympathy. He was sweating slightly, a faint mist of dampness glowing across his rathernarrow forehead and darkening the roots of his fair hair. He had lashes and brows of the same lightness which gave him a sandy look, but he seemed agreeable enough. About thirty, she hazarded, and still low on the ladder to success in his career.
‘So tell me,’ she said, making an effort not to look over her shoulder and to stop thinking about her confusion regarding Zack. ‘How’s life in the Gas Fight And Choke Company?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ He looked startled.
‘Hey, don’t tell me I get to explain an English joke to an English person! Someone told me when I first came to work here. There used to be a company in London selling gas and coke and so forth called the Gaslight and Coke Company. Like, sixty years ago or more? And anaesthetists came to be called Gas Fight and Choke people. I thought all anaesthetics people knew that.’
He went a sudden scarlet, the colour leaping across his face so fast that she could see it happen, and the sweating increased; with his rather protuberant greenish eyes, she thought, he looks like a freshly boiled kitten. ‘I suppose I’d heard it and forgotten,’ he mumbled.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said kindly. ‘Anyway, it’s a very old joke and perhaps it just doesn’t mean anything to younger people in the field. So, do you like anaesthetics?’
‘Er, well, yes,’ he said and she stifled a tinge of irritation. Talking to this chap was like walking over a ploughed field in high-heeled pumps. ‘I mean, it’s the speciality I’ve chosen.’
‘Ah? Then you’re staying in it? I mean, you don’t see this as a step on the way to something else?’
‘Like what?’ He looked genuinely puzzled and she explained patiently.
‘The pain people — the consultants who run pain clinics and deal with intractable pain problems as well as terminal pain — aren’t they always anaesthetists?’
To her relief he became a little more animated. ‘Not all of them. There’re neurologists in it as well. And some pharmacologists,of course. There was an interesting paper on the use of sodium channel
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