Second Chance with Her Guarded GP

by Kate Hardy

  ‘It’s OK. I just...’ She flapped a dismissive hand, and a tide of colour swept through her face. ‘Never mind.’

  Clearly she was embarrassed at making a mistake, and Rob didn’t want things to feel awkward between himself and his new colleague. ‘Let’s rewind that and start again. Good morning. I’m Robert Langley,’ he said. ‘I’m the new part-time registrar. Rob, to my friends.’

  ‘Florence Jacobs. Senior Reg. Good to meet you.’

  Though she didn’t offer a shortened version of her a name, he noticed. Did that mean she was the sort who kept a distance between herself and her colleagues? Or did she not like shortening her name?

  He shook her hand and his palm tingled.

  Uh-oh. That wasn’t good.

  He was supposed to be concentrating on his new job, not getting side-tracked by attraction. Even if Florence Jacobs was a) single and b) interested in him, he was only here for a few months before he went back to his old job in Manchester. Although Rob was happy for all his relationships to stay short and sweet, he knew from experience that his girlfriends didn’t necessarily see things the same way; there was no guarantee that Florence would be interested in a fling. So it was better to keep things strictly professional rather than act on that pull of attraction he felt towards her. His life had been complicated enough for the last few months. He wanted things kept nice and simple. Just him and his job. No expectations he couldn’t fulfil and no girlfriends to be let down when his low boredom threshold kicked in.

  ‘I see they’ve already given you a lanyard. That’s good. Come with me and I’ll show you where the staff kitchen is,’ she said. ‘And you’re rostered in Resus with me today, so if there’s anything you need just let me know.’

  He gave her his best smile. ‘Thanks. That’d be great.’

  ‘Welcome to Asherwick General,’ she said.

  * * *

  Robert Langley was gorgeous.

  Absolutely gorgeous.

  Like a young Hugh Grant, without the floppy hair and smooth skin. Though, actually, Florence rather liked the stubble. And those startling blue eyes, the brighter because there was no fringe getting in their way. Part of her was seriously tempted to reach out and touch his face, find out whether the stubble was spiky or soft.

  But she’d learned the hard way: getting close to someone netted you a broken heart, broken dreams and a divorce. So she wasn’t going to act on that flare of attraction to their new registrar. Besides, looking like that, he must have women queuing a mile deep to date him—if he hadn’t already been married for years.

  So she switched her head to friendly and professional mode, smiled and led him through to the kitchen. ‘We have a kitty system here. Everyone gives their subs to Shobu on Reception once a month and she keeps us stocked with tea, coffee and stuff. Any special dietary requirements, just let her know.’ She gestured to the cupboards. ‘Mugs and plates are there, cutlery in the drawer, and if we’re lucky it’s someone’s birthday and they bring in cake.’

  ‘Or if someone starts in the department and wants to say hello to his new colleagues,’ Rob said, and placed the carrier bag he’d been holding on the worktop. ‘Cake, cheese straws and fruit.’

  ‘That,’ Florence said with a smile, ‘is definitely a good way to say hello.’ He’d been thoughtful about it, including things for people who didn’t like cake or had other dietary requirements. It was such a nice thing to do, and it made her warm to him.

  He took everything out of the bag, including a note.

  Please help yourself!

  All the best from your new colleague,

  Rob Langley

  He placed it on the worktop. Then he glanced at his watch. ‘We haven’t got time for coffee. Not if we want to get a decent handover rather than making people stay on after their shift.’

  She liked that, too. He was thinking of their colleagues who were already busy. A team player. Good. That was exactly what they needed. Their last three temps hadn’t been team players at all. ‘Agreed. Let’s go through,’ she said.

  She introduced him to everyone they passed; and they’d just got to Resus when the red phone shrilled.

  Florence answered it, made a few notes, and blew out a breath.

  ‘ETA ten minutes. Elderly patient, fallen and banged his head. He’s lost a lot of blood; he collapsed in the ambulance but they’ve stabilised him,’ she said. ‘Though he’s also a bit confused.’

  ‘So we’re looking at an urgent cross-match of blood, getting fluids into him, possibly a transfusion, and then a CT scan from his head to his hip to check for other injuries,’ Rob said.

  She liked the way his thoughts chimed with hers. ‘Exactly.’

  * * *

  Everything was ready by the time their patient arrived.

  As the paramedics talked her through what they’d done, she could see that his blood pressure was low, thanks to the blood he’d lost.

  ‘Mr Walker, do you know where you are?’ Rob asked.

  ‘I’m not at home, am I?’ the elderly man asked, sounding confused.

  ‘No, you’re at Asherwick General.’

  ‘My cup of tea...’ He looked anxious.

  ‘Do you remember anything that happened?’ Florence asked.

  ‘No.’ Mr Walker began to shake his head, and stopped, wincing. ‘My neck hurts.’

  ‘We think you had a fall and hit your head,’ Rob said. ‘Your wife’s on her way in, with your daughter. I’m Dr Langley, and this is Dr Jacobs. We’re going to look after you. I’m just going to take a tiny sample of blood, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mr Walker’s face crumpled. ‘I want Lizzie.’

  ‘She’ll be here soon,’ Florence reassured him, assuming he meant his wife or his daughter. She glanced at the monitor, deeply unhappy with his blood pressure reading; he’d clearly lost a lot of blood, meaning that not enough was going to his vital organs. ‘We’re going to get some fluids into you,’ she said.

  Rob was already on top of it. And he’d done the blood sample without a fuss while they’d been talking to their patient. He might be new and he might only be a temporary colleague, but he was already acting as if he’d been part of the team for years. Unlike their last couple of temps, who’d seemed to wait to be told what to do.

  Once Mr Walker was stabilised and they’d stemmed the bleeding, she sent him for an urgent CT scan; then she and Rob went to see his wife and daughter.

  ‘I’m Dr Jacobs and this is Dr Langley,’ she introduced them swiftly.

  ‘Lizzie Walker,’ his wife said, ‘and Jeannette.’

  ‘He was asking for you earlier,’ Rob said. ‘We told him you were both on your way.’

  ‘Your husband’s having a scan at the moment so we can check him over properly and see if he’s got any other injuries. He’s lost a bit more blood than we’d like, so we’re going to give him a transfusion,’ Florence said. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

  ‘I’m not sure. He’d gone downstairs to let the dog out and make us both a cup of tea,’ Mrs Walker said. ‘He must’ve slipped on the stairs, though I didn’t hear him fall. I was in the shower. It was only when I was getting dressed that I heard the dog barking. I thought it was a bit odd, and when I went out I saw Pete lying at the foot of the stairs and there was blood everywhere. I called the ambulance, and I put a blanket over him to keep him warm because I didn’t want to risk moving him. He couldn’t remember falling, so whether he blacked out or something happened...’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You did the best thing, keeping him warm and calling the ambulance and not moving him,’ Florence reassured her.

  ‘There was so much blood.’ Mrs Walker’s face was pinched.

  ‘Scalp wounds always seem scary and bleed a lot,’ Rob said, ‘because the skin’s thicker and there are more veins and arteries. But
we’ve stopped the bleeding now.’

  ‘Is Dad going to be all right?’ Jeanette asked.

  Florence didn’t have enough information to be able to answer that. ‘We’re looking after him,’ she said instead. ‘He did seem a little bit confused.’ Had he just missed his footing, or had he had a stroke, or was it something else—had he banged his head hard enough to cause an internal bleed? ‘Can I ask about his general health before the fall? Any medical conditions?’

  ‘He was fine,’ Mrs Walker said.

  Jeanette sighed. ‘Oh, Mum. That’s not quite true. Dad’s memory is starting to go a bit.’

  ‘We manage,’ Mrs Walker said defensively.

  ‘Nobody’s assigning any kind of blame,’ Florence said gently. ‘We’re just trying to put the clues together to work out what happened and what caused it, to help us decide on the best treatment to give him.’

  Mrs Walker grimaced. ‘We’re just getting old. Jeanette’s right, Pete’s a bit forgetful. He’s got high blood pressure, but he takes his medication every day—I bought him one of those weekly pill box things to make sure.’ She bit her lip. ‘Do you think he had a stroke and that’s why he fell? Is that why he can’t remember anything?’

  ‘We’ll know more when we’ve seen the scan,’ Florence said.

  ‘But if you can give us a full run-down of his medical history, that would really help us work things out,’ Rob said, giving her a warm smile.

  Mrs Walker and her daughter both seemed to react well to his charm; Florence left him to do the talking and noted down everything they said.

  ‘Thank you—that was very helpful,’ she said when they’d finished. ‘We’ll come and get you as soon as he’s back in the department, so you can see him.’

  ‘Stroke?’ Rob asked when they’d left the relatives’ room.

  ‘Or a bleed on the brain from his fall,’ she said. ‘I’ll be happier when we’ve seen the scan.’

  Mr Walker had just been brought back to the department, and the initial blood tests—pending the full cross-match—meant they were able to start the blood transfusion.

  But he was agitated and wouldn’t settle.

  ‘Mr Walker, I need you to lie on your back for me and keep your arm still so I can treat you,’ Florence said gently. If he kept moving, they wouldn’t be able to get the blood into him and the risk of organ failure was growing by the minute.

  ‘My neck hurts,’ he said again.

  Rob sat next to him and held his hand. ‘I know, and we’re going to do something about that. But for now we need you to lie still, just for a little while, so we can help you. Florence is going to get you some pain relief, and then we’ll bring your wife and your daughter to see you.’

  ‘I can’t let them see me covered in blood.’ Mr Walker twisted on the bed. ‘Not like this.’

  ‘Lie still for us,’ she said gently, ‘and I’ll wash your face so they won’t be worried when they see you.’

  ‘Neither of us is going anywhere,’ Rob said. ‘You’re safe. I’m hanging onto you, and Florence will clean you up. So you’re perfectly safe to lie still and let us help you. Deal?’

  For a moment, Florence thought Mr Walker was going to refuse, but then the fight went out of him. ‘All right.’

  She and Rob exchanged a glance. Agitation and sudden changes in mood could suggest a stroke or something affecting the patient’s ability to process information. Or maybe he was just horribly scared. Until they’d seen the results of that scan, she couldn’t be sure.

  * * *

  Florence gently washed Mr Walker’s face, getting rid of all the blood, talking to him all the while. Rob thought how nice she was, how gentle and kind. And he’d noticed that she was calm under pressure; he liked that, too.

  He liked his new colleague a lot.

  Though he needed to be sensible about it and not act on that attraction. He wasn’t great at relationships; plus he was only here for the next three months. As soon as he was fit enough to climb again, he’d be back in his old job in Manchester—the other side of the country. So it’d be better not to start anything in the first place.

  Once the scans were back, Florence reviewed them with him. ‘I’m glad to see there’s no sign of a bleed on the brain or a fracture to the skull,’ she said.

  They’d done a scan from the top of his head to his hip, to check for other injuries. ‘No sign of internal damage or any other fractures either,’ Rob said. ‘With luck, he’ll just have some bruising and that wound on the back of his head.’

  ‘I’m still admitting him so we keep him in overnight for observation,’ Florence said. ‘I’ve got a funny feeling. Yes, that confusion could be from the shock of the fall and hitting his head; but, given that his daughter was concerned about memory loss, we need to keep an eye on him.’

  ‘I agree,’ Rob said.

  Once they’d settled Mr Walker with his family and organised admitting him, they were called to deal with a patient who’d collapsed with a suspected heart attack. He arrested in the middle of Resus, but thankfully they were able to save him and send him up to the cardiac ward.

  ‘I think we’re both overdue a break,’ Florence said to Rob. ‘Would you like to come with me and I’ll show you where the canteen is?’

  ‘That’d be nice. Thank you. Coffee is on me,’ he added.

  ‘It’s your first day, so it’s my shout,’ she corrected.

  ‘Tell you what—you buy the coffee, I’ll buy the cake,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘That’s a deal.’

  ‘Any particular cake you prefer?’

  ‘Cake is cake,’ she said.

  ‘Got you.’

  In the cafeteria, she bought them both a cappuccino, and he bought two slices of a rich-looking chocolate brownie. ‘Ollie—my brother—is a cheese fiend. He doesn’t understand what a joy chocolate cake is,’ Rob said as they sat down.

  ‘You’re right: it is a joy—and not just because of the sugar rush,’ she said with a smile.

  All of a sudden Rob’s chest felt too tight. It was nothing to do with his kidney transplant and everything to do with the way that smile transformed her face, changing her from the quiet, capable and serious doctor into someone who was lit up from the inside.

  He hadn’t expected to be knocked sideways by her smile. And he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do about this. Stick to being sensible—being more like his twin, in accordance with the pact they’d made—or follow his impulses?

  Of course he should hold back. He and Florence barely knew each other. But being aware of that didn’t stop the longing.

  ‘You were good with Mr Walker’s wife and daughter,’ she said.

  He shrugged off the compliment. ‘Families worry, and that makes a patient even more anxious. I’ve always thought one of the best things you can do for a patient is to keep their families calm.’

  ‘Good point,’ she said.

  ‘When he started getting agitated, I was beginning to think we’d have to sedate him—which would have been horrible for him and his family.’

  ‘Luckily it didn’t come to that. And you were really good with him,’ she said. She looked at him over the rim of her mug. ‘So where were you before you came here?’

  This was where Rob knew he needed to be careful about how much information he gave. He didn’t want his past getting in the way. Didn’t want to seem weak. ‘Manchester,’ he said. Which was true, up to a point. Just he’d been in the middle of taking a sabbatical to work abroad. ‘You?’

  ‘I trained in Leeds, then moved here just over a year ago,’ she said, ‘to be near my family.’

  ‘Me, too. My parents retired near here,’ he said. It was the truth; just not the whole truth, because if the appendicitis and blood poisoning hadn’t happened he would still have been working for the humanitarian organisation, or by now he would’ve
been back in Manchester and spending his spare time with the local mountain rescue team, really making a difference and using his skills. But he was glad Florence had mentioned her family. He needed to head her off. Since she’d moved back here to be close to them, it followed that she was likely to be happy to talk about them. It would be the perfect distraction. ‘So your family’s local?’

  ‘My parents live in the next village—I grew up here,’ she said. ‘My older sister moved back here two years ago when she retired.’

  Hang on. Florence looked as if she was around the same age as he was, thirty. Even if there was a ten-year gap between her and her sister, that didn’t quite stack up. ‘Retired?’

  ‘Lexy’s a ballerina,’ Florence explained. ‘She’s thirty-six—a lot of ballerinas retire in their thirties, because dancing takes such a toll on their hips and knees—and anyway she doesn’t want to tour with the company any more now her oldest has started school. So she’s done her teaching qualification, and she’s set up her own ballet school. All three of her daughters dance with her—even Darcey, the two-year-old.’

  Rob noticed a hint of wistfulness along with the pride in her face when she spoke about her nieces, and wondered what was behind that.

  And he noticed that Florence hadn’t said anything about a husband. He couldn’t help a swift glance at her left hand. There was no ring, though that didn’t mean anything; she could still be in a committed relationship.

  He needed to damp down that zing of attraction towards her, fast. Those huge brown eyes. The generous curve of her mouth. The way everything suddenly felt a little bit brighter when she was in the room.

  ‘Darcey? It’s an unusual name.’

  ‘After Darcey Bussell. Lexy called her girls after famous ballerinas. Margot—the oldest—is named after Margot Fonteyn, and Anna, who’s four, is named after Anna Pavlova.’

  Even Rob had heard of the ballerinas. ‘Got you.’