Lifting Suspicion

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘I can guess,’ she said pertly, and carried on. This excited her, too. ‘Turn over now,’ she said.

  He peered up at her from his recumbent position. ‘Megan, I’m naked.’

  ‘So am I. And I’ve seen naked men before. I’m a doctor, remember.’

  ‘You’ve seen naked men before, but not exactly in the state that I’m in. I feel shy.’

  ‘You feel shy!’ She giggled. ‘I know what I’ll see, Christopher. Now turn over.’

  He did. She kissed him on the lips and then on the eyes. ‘Keep them closed,’ she said. ‘I want to kiss you all over, and to start with …’ She bent over his loins, kissed him lightly, and then took him into her mouth.

  ‘Megan,’ he groaned. ‘Oh, Megan.’ He reached for her and this time she came to him.

  Their love-making was slower this time, less frenzied. They took time to enjoy their own and each other’s bodies. Their climax was long in coming because they kept delaying, but when it did it seemed to last for ever.

  ‘Christopher,’ she murmured, ‘you take me to places I’ve never been before.’

  They lay together holding hands for another half hour as the air cooled their damp bodies. Then he fetched her another drink, coffee this time, and they sat up in bed together.

  There was an unspoken agreement that now was the time to be serious. They had things to do, plans to make. ‘I should go back this morning,’ he told her. ‘I’ll just wait till you’ve checked that your parents are fine. You’ll stay the rest of the week?’

  ‘No longer. I know my mother will be some time in hospital, so it’s just a question of getting my father home and sorted out and then visiting them more regularly. I think Dad’ll be out in a couple of days.’ Her face clouded. ‘I’ve still got a career, I hope. What it’ll be like after the auditors’ report I don’t know.’

  ‘I’ll see to them. I’ll just point out that the consultant is God, and you did what God said.’

  ‘I hope that’ll be good enough.’ Then she forced herself to be bright. ‘Christopher, this, last night and this morning, was all wonderful. But, like I said …’ She smiled in recollection. ‘Or I was going to say but you interrupted me – now isn’t the time to start planning. Forget what happened if you can.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Well, pretend you can. For a while I want us to continue living as we were before.’

  ‘Like I said, no. I’m not ashamed of us, not worried about what people will think. I want them to know about us.’

  ‘Please, I want to get my life in order first. We can still see each other, but I don’t want any great announcements or anything like that.’

  She could see he wasn’t happy, but he said, ‘As you wish. I know we’ve got a way to go. This has been a bit, well, hurried. But I’m serious about you. More than even I realised.’

  She kissed him quickly, before pushing him away. ‘You first in the bathroom,’ she said. ‘Shall I phone down for breakfast?’

  Chapter Nine

  In a way Megan was almost glad to be back in the Borders Hospital, worrying about her parents. It took her mind off what had happened over the past twelve hours. There was still so much to grasp – not what she had done, but what she had turned into.

  She visited her father first. When she went into his room he was on the phone, talking to Arthur. ‘We need to buy some more smoked hams,’ she heard him say, ‘and those French sausages went very well. Oh, and the German wines …’ Her father was better and worried about business.

  ‘Dad! You’re ill! Let Arthur run the business for a while.’

  He looked up, and said into the phone, ‘Megan’s here. I’ll have to ring you back. Think of what I said earlier.’ Then he replaced the phone and leaned over to be kissed by his daughter. ‘You look better than you did yesterday,’ he said, but didn’t wonder why she was blushing. ‘Have you seen your mother yet?’

  She hadn’t. He went on, ‘I got them to take me up this morning in a wheelchair. It gave me a shock, but they say she should be all right. So we don’t need to worry any more.’

  She shook her head. She had met this blind faith in medicine before. Often it worried her. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m hurting a bit more, but apparently that’s a sign I’m improving.’ He settled himself more comfortably. ‘I’ve been thinking about what I said, Megan. Perhaps I was a bit panic-stricken then, but now I think I was right. I’m going to sell the shop. I’ve mentioned it to Arthur and we’re going to work something out. Your mother and I will buy a bungalow somewhere. Get out a bit more. Work’s not everything, Megan. I’m telling you this so you’ll encourage me when I start backsliding.’

  ‘I’ll encourage you,’ she said slowly, ‘and I think you’re right.’

  Her mother was still in Intensive Care, but the machines now seemed less threatening. Megan was a doctor as well as a daughter, so she couldn’t stop herself from quickly checking all the charts and reports. Her mother was improving.

  When Megan sat next to her, the previously colourless face now had some pink in the cheeks and the breathing was heavier, more normal. Megan took her mother’s hand. Mary’s eyes opened and focussed. ‘Hello, Megan.’ Tears ran down Megan’s face. Things were going to be all right.

  She phoned her friends at Challis and left a message on the answering machine. Then she went back to her parents’ shop. First she had a talk with Arthur and told him how well her father looked. ‘He was on the phone again as soon as you’d left him,’ Arthur said with a laugh. ‘But I told him to ring off. Get his strength back.’

  Then she went upstairs, to the bedroom she’d inhabited since she’d been seven. Sitting on her bed, she surveyed her past. There were books once treasured, clothes she couldn’t throw away. Exercise books kept from school were on one shelf.

  She took down a picture of her class in the sixth form, taken just before she’d left. How had all her friends done? How many were married, had children? She knew of one or two, but most had just disappeared from her life.

  There was another picture, just of herself, taken at about the same time. She kicked off her shoes, lay on the bed and studied it. How different she was from that eighteen-year-old! A youngish haircut, clothes which she’d thought very stylish at the time. Her face looked … unformed. It was the face of a child.

  Had she changed over the past eight years? She should have. But she knew that many of the preconceptions she’d had when she’d been eighteen she still possessed – at least until yesterday. The night with Christopher had turned her into someone unimaginably different.

  Why had she acted that way with him? Partly emotional reaction after the shock of seeing her parents, she knew that. But Christopher had been more than good to her – what she’d done she’d done knowingly and happily. And she’d loved it!

  Would there be any repercussions? Not the obvious ones – she knew he’d taken precautions so she wouldn’t fall pregnant. What were her emotions for him? She could feel herself unwilling to face the question, but she had to. In the end she said it aloud. ‘Am I in love with Christopher?’

  She pictured him in her mind. She admired him – admired his intellect, his skill as a caring doctor. That’s no way to pick a lover, a part of her mind told her. Physically, he was wonderful. With a happy, reminiscent smile she thought again of last night, and of this morning, with a mixture of horror at her own forwardness and delight in the remembered ecstasy she’d felt. It was … Words couldn’t explain.

  The core of the question had still not been answered. Did she love him? Was he a man she could give herself to fully? At times she doubted her own capacity for love. She’d devoted her life to work, not people. Could she change? Yes, she thought. Because with him she’d caught a glimpse of happiness beyond anything she’d previously thought possible. She loved Christopher Firth.

  Megan stayed another two days. Her father was then allowed home, and Arthur, showing unexpected firmness, had assured h
er that he wouldn’t be allowed to work too hard. It would be a while before her mother could be discharged, but she was now well enough to talk and thoroughly agreed with her husband’s decision. Megan promised to come down in a week’s time, and went back to Emmy’s reasonably satisfied.

  It was good to be back at work. Suddenly, as so often happened, they were working frantically. She had no time to see Christopher, or he to see her.

  ‘We’re supposed to be lovers,’ he whispered to her one day as they looked at the scans of a recently admitted patient. ‘Lovers make love.’

  ‘Hush,’ she scolded him. ‘Tell me what I’m to do about this. I don’t quite understand if –’

  They were in the ward but hidden from view by the curtain drawn around an empty bed. He grabbed her, lifted her up, and kissed her.

  ‘Christopher,’ she hissed, wriggling desperately. ‘Christopher, put me down.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because that student nurse just looked at us, and she’s waiting outside to ask something.’

  Reluctantly, he did as she’d asked. ‘I’m not ashamed of you, or of what we do,’ he said. ‘Remember that.’

  All they had time for was just such an occasional stolen kiss. In some ways she was happy, letting her feelings for him develop, but she was looking forward to seeing him every day.

  Megan was in Mat. One, running a glucose tolerance test on a mum-to-be who was suspected of being diabetic. The woman had fasted all night and Megan had just taken venous blood for testing. Now she would have a glucose drink and her blood would be tested again after an hour, and then after two hours. The patient had just finished the drink when Megan looked up to see Christopher sweeping down on her. His shoulders were hunched, the way he was when he was angry. ‘We need to have a word.’

  ‘But I have to –’

  ‘It can wait ten minutes. We’ll go to the doctors’ room.’

  There was no one else in the doctors’ room. He said, ‘The CEO has just phoned me. The auditors aren’t happy, especially since they can’t talk to Charles. They feel there has been a definite loss to the hospital and they want to inform the police and hand over the files. The police just won’t understand how a hospital works – they’re thick.’

  ‘They’re not,’ she said. ‘In all the dealings I’ve had with them, I’ve found them able to deal with the horrible bits of life and still hang onto some bits of sensitivity. And, remember, in the big wide world, if you sign for something you’re responsible for it.’

  ‘I won’t have it! This is my department and you’re my SHO. We’ll find the money somewhere. Out of our capitation, perhaps.’

  ‘No, Christopher! That’s just what they’ll be looking for – examples of you bending the rules. I’m in trouble already. It’ll be no good if you are, too. You’ll be in that foul paper again.’

  ‘I’m not having you accused!’

  ‘Christopher! Remember that student nurse who saw you kissing me? Well, she’ll have told everyone in the hospital by now. If you try to fiddle, they’ll say you’re willing to bend to rules to help your mistress. How will that sound?’

  ‘I kiss who I like!’

  ‘So do I. I’ve done nothing wrong deliberately. I’ll just have to hope that any tribunal will accept that.’

  ‘We’ll see. But I still think –’

  ‘Mr Firth, Mrs Adamson says she’s in a lot of pain and I wondered if …’ Another rather frightened student nurse at the door.

  ‘I’ll come at once,’ Christopher said. ‘Megan, this conversation isn’t finished.’

  But, as far as she was concerned, it was.

  I kiss who I like. She remembered Christopher saying that. Megan thought it had just been a bit of male bravado, an attempt to cheer her up. The following night she knew it wasn’t. The following night she felt her life had been wrecked.

  It was an evil night, raining, with a bitter wind blowing. She was walking across the car park at the back of the hospital, having just been back to the residence to collect a book she’d lent to one of the junior doctors there, about to go home.

  Across the car park she was surprised to see Christopher, his white coat flapping in the wind, standing under the concrete awning outside a door that led to the kitchens. What was he doing there? He hadn’t seen her. He was looking towards the entrance of the car park.

  She heard the sound of a car, and in front of her passed a dark green Jaguar: Maddy Brent’s car. Megan frowned. What was Maddy doing here? The car drew up. She saw Maddy get out and heard her call, ‘Christopher, oh, Christopher!’ There was something ecstatic about her voice.

  With arms outstretched, Maddy ran towards Christopher as he moved towards her. They met in the rain, but neither of them apparently cared. They were wrapped up in each other. He kissed her. Not the quick kiss of a friend, but the kiss of a lover – over and over again, on her forehead, cheek, lips. Megan shrank backwards and opened the door behind her. She saw Maddy’s eyes open and focus as the door slammed behind her. Maddy had seen her. So what? Megan dashed down the corridor, where she found a ladies’ toilet. She went inside and was sick.

  She washed her face before going out into the darkness again. The green Jaguar had gone. She found herself a bench and sat in the dark with the rain gusting around her. The hospital lights seemed friendly but distant. She was getting cold.

  There was nothing for her. She thought that perhaps Christopher did love her in his way, but that way wasn’t enough. He hadn’t led her on. Perhaps he’d led himself on, as she had led herself on. But one thing was certain. Maddy was the woman for him.

  She remembered the photograph of Maddy she’d seen in Christopher’s room, their easiness when they were together, the way Maddy helped Christopher. All right, they were divorced, but divorced couples could get remarried. If they bothered.

  They called it the eternal triangle – Christopher, Maddy, and herself. She couldn’t blame him for preferring Maddy. She was good-looking, confident, and nearer Christopher’s age. And they had a history of happiness behind them.

  Christopher had told Megan that he would bring her out, make her more confident, show her the ways of the world. Well, he had done, and now she felt more confident. But at the moment she was desolate. She would be strong tomorrow, but tonight she would weep.

  By now she was wet through. Her head bent, she walked to her car.

  Next morning Megan was in the doctors’ room when Christopher phoned her, wanting to know how Mrs Adamson was getting on and should he come over?

  ‘No, she’s much better. Her temperature’s down and she’s not complaining of pain.’

  ‘Good.’ His incisive voice softened, ‘Megan, you sound low. Not bad news about your parents, I hope?’

  ‘No, both are doing well. I’m going to see them this weekend if I can get away.’ She looked around the doctors’ room, to find it was empty. Why not now? Her nails bit into her hand as she squeezed it tight. She forced her voice to be firm. ‘Look, Christopher, I’ve been thinking about you and me. That time in the White Rose, it shouldn’t have happened. I don’t regret it. It was my fault but it shouldn’t have happened. I like you a lot and I think you’re a good consultant, but I want to say now that friends are all we’re going to be.’

  She should have known better. There was a roar down the telephone. ‘What are you talking about? What rubbish is this?’

  ‘Christopher, I only want to say –’

  ‘I’m not talking to you like this. I’m coming down!’ He slammed down the receiver, and she winced as the noise crashed in her ear.

  She went back on the ward – in fact, she went back to look at Mrs Adamson – but five minutes later there was a swish of the curtains and a voice said, ‘Dr Taylor, when you’ve finished that could I have a word in the doctors’ room?’

  She turned and flinched when she saw Christopher’s thunderous face, ‘Of course, Mr Firth. I’ll be another five minutes.’

  The curtains were pulled closed ag
ain. ‘Now you’re in trouble,’ the student nurse helping her said. ‘He looked like he wanted to murder you. What have you done wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Megan, dry-mouthed. ‘He’s just feeling bad-tempered.’ She finished with Mrs Adamson and walked to the doctors’ room.

  He grabbed her arms and shook her hard as soon as they were alone. ‘What are you talking about, Megan! Don’t you know what you mean to me?’

  She looked at the strong hands grasping her. ‘Please, let me go,’ she said. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘I’d like to … never mind what,’ he said. But he did let go. ‘Megan, I realise we’ve got problems of all sorts, a lot of work to do. But I think we can work them out. So what’s this rubbish about friends only?’ His voice grew angry again.

  She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. ‘I’ve been thinking about it – about us – quite a lot. I think it’ll be best for all concerned if we –’

  ‘It won’t be best for me! Or you! I’m not having it, Megan.’

  She couldn’t have done this before she’d met him, before he’d shown her how to stand up for herself. But now she could and she was sad about it. Staring straight at him, she said, ‘The first time you talked to us all you said that you’d been a witness against a doctor who’d been sexually harassing his staff. I thought well of you for that. Now, are you going to start harassing me? Because that’s how it seems.’

  The pain in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. The silence between them stretched on and on. Then he said, ‘If that’s the way it seems, I’m very sorry, Dr Taylor. I assure you that it will not happen again. And I apologise.’ He turned and left. She didn’t know how to call him back.

  At least she could keep busy. In work she could find solace, in sheer fatigue she could lose the sense of her personal troubles. Late one shift she heard Will on the ward phone, explaining to a friend that, no, he couldn’t get out, he would be busy till late.

  ‘I could cover that if you want, Will,’ she said. ‘I’ve got nothing much on.’

  He looked at her gloomily. ‘Thanks, Megan, and I’d love to take you up on your offer,’ he said, ‘but, quite frankly you look terrible. You need to get home and get some sleep.’