The Doctor's Christmas Gift

by Jennifer Taylor

  ‘If being late the odd time or two is your only sin then I think we can live with that.’

  Catherine spun round when she heard Matt’s voice. He treated her to such a warm smile that her heart skipped a beat. ‘I think we’re very lucky to have you working here, Catherine. Wouldn’t you agree, ladies?’

  Margaret gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘As you say, Dr Fielding,’ she agreed archly.

  Catherine felt a wave of colour rush to her face when she saw the look the receptionists exchanged. It didn’t take a genius to work out what they were thinking, she thought as she hastily excused herself and went to her room. It was obvious that Margaret and Sharon didn’t believe Matt’s appreciation was solely for her professional skills!

  She took a deep breath before she pressed the buzzer to summon her first patient. She had to put thoughts like that out of her head while she concentrated on work. However, it wasn’t easy to dismiss the thought that Matt was interested in her when it could cause so many problems.

  Mercifully, there weren’t any really difficult cases to deal with that evening. Most of the people she saw seemed to be suffering from the usual coughs and colds which were the staple of any GPs working day. There were also a couple of patients with asthma—always a problem for people living in the city and constantly breathing in pollutants. The worst case was a boy called Benjamin King, who’d been treated at the surgery for a number of years. Benjamin was just thirteen and Catherine could see he was extremely distressed when he and his mother came into the room.

  ‘Sit on the couch, Benjamin,’ she instructed, raising the back support so that the boy could make himself comfortable. ‘Now, I want you to try and relax. I know it’s scary when you can’t breathe properly but there’s no need to worry. I’ll make sure that you’re OK.’

  Catherine smiled reassuringly at the boy as she monitored his breathing, listening to the wheezing sound he was making as he struggled to force oxygen into his lungs. Asthma attacks could be triggered by any number of things, from exercise to dust mites, but the effect they had was always terrifying for the sufferer. As the airways became inflamed they also narrowed, drastically reducing the amount of air that could flow into and out of the lungs. The patient would then start to panic and the situation would deteriorate.

  Catherine was anxious to avoid that happening now. Unhooking the oxygen mask, she slipped it over Benjamin’s nose and mouth. ‘Now, I want you to take nice slow breaths. One…and two…and three…’

  The boy’s breathing gradually steadied as he began to calm down. ‘That’s great!’ she declared. ‘Just keep on like that and you’ll be fine.’

  She turned to the boy’s anxious mother. ‘Has Benjamin been taking his medication as per instructions? I see that he’s been prescribed sodium cromoglycate as an anti-inflammatory plus salbutamol as a bronchodilator.’

  ‘Yes, he never misses his medication. I make sure of that.’ Sandra King managed a wobbly smile but Catherine could tell how much of a strain she was under. ‘And I nag Benjie to death about making sure he always has his inhaler with him!’

  ‘That’s what mothers are for,’ Catherine replied lightly. ‘Do you know what triggered the attack tonight? I see from Benjamin’s records that he’s been fairly well of late.’

  ‘He has, but, then, it’s usually the case, isn’t it, Doctor? Just when you start to think that maybe he’s getting better, something happens.’ Sandra sighed. ‘As to what triggered it off tonight, well, it could have been what he was doing at school this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, what was that?’ Catherine took another look at Benjamin and was pleased to see that his breathing had improved considerably.

  ‘He went on a geography field trip—spent the afternoon mapping out the area around his school to show where the shops and the park and things like that are. It might have been breathing in all those traffic fumes which did the damage because he wasn’t too good when he came home from school and it just got steadily worse from there.’

  ‘I expect you’re right. Traffic pollution is a huge problem in the city.’ Catherine bent and carefully removed the oxygen mask from the boy’s face. ‘Feeling any better now?’

  ‘A bit,’ Benjamin mumbled.

  He was at an age where he must resent having to constantly monitor the things he could do, she thought. Asthma sufferers were taught to avoid activities which might trigger an attack and, whilst it might be easy for an adult to accept such restrictions, it was difficult for a child, as Benjamin soon made clear.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have this rotten illness! It isn’t fair. None of my friends have asthma and they can do all kinds of things that I can’t!’

  ‘It must be hard, Benjamin,’ she agreed. ‘However, it’s been some time since you had a really bad attack so maybe you’re starting to grow out of them. A lot of people stop having attacks as they get older.’

  ‘That’s what Dr Fielding said the last time he saw you, didn’t he, Benjie?’ Sandra smiled encouragingly at her son. ‘And once your dad starts this new job then you’ll probably feel loads better. Just think, we’ll be living by the sea by Christmas and it’s bound to be a lot cleaner living there than in the middle of this dirty old city!’

  ‘But I won’t have my friends there, will I?’ Benjamin declared mutinously, obviously not happy about the forthcoming move. ‘It’s going to be really boring!’

  Catherine sighed as she wrote out a repeat prescription then saw Benjamin and his mother out. There were no easy answers to some problems and, where they involved children, that seemed to make things even more complicated. That immediately reminded her of what Matt had told her about his mother going away. She couldn’t help worrying how he was going to manage even though it didn’t have anything to do with her. How strange.

  There were still a few more patients to see after the Kings left so it was gone seven before she finished. She gathered up the files and took them through to the office for filing. Although they used a computer system, like a lot of practices they also kept a manual back-up of data for each patient.

  The old belt-and-braces theory, Catherine thought wryly as she popped the files into the tray. Computers were all well and good but you knew where you were with paper, and it didn’t sprout those wretched little gremlins which computers were so prone to.

  Margaret and Sharon had already left so she switched off the light then paused when she saw Matt coming down the corridor with an elderly woman hanging onto his arm. He stopped when they reached her.

  ‘I’m just going to see Mrs Hargreaves across the road, Catherine. It’s late-night shopping tonight and the traffic is horrendous.’ He raised his voice so the old lady could hear him. ‘This is Dr Lewis, Mrs Hargreaves. She’ll be working here while Dr Williams is on maternity leave.’

  ‘Oh, nice to meet you, dear. Lovely news about Dr Williams expecting, isn’t it? Have you got any children?’

  Catherine followed Matt’s lead and raised her voice. ‘No. I’m not married, Mrs Hargreaves.’

  ‘That don’t seem to make much difference nowadays!’ the old lady retorted. ‘Walking out with someone, then, are you?’

  ‘Walking out?’ Catherine repeated uncertainly.

  ‘What Mrs Hargreaves means is are you dating anyone, Catherine?’ Matt’s tone was bland enough yet Catherine felt herself blushing. She couldn’t help feeling self-conscious about having to discuss her private life in front of him.

  ‘Um…no, actually. I’m not going out with anyone at the moment.’

  ‘Eh? What was that? You’ll have to speak up, dear. I don’t hear so well as I used to.’

  Mrs Hargreaves cupped a blue-veined hand to her ear and Catherine’s blush deepened even though she knew it was silly to feel embarrassed. What possible difference could it make to Matt whether or not she was dating someone?

  ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, Mrs Hargreaves.’ She shook her head to emphasise the negative and the old woman smiled.

  ‘Oh, I see. Still, there’s
plenty of time to find yourself a nice man.’ She patted Matthew’s arm. ‘You wouldn’t have to look very far neither. You couldn’t find anyone better than Dr Fielding, if you want my advice.’

  ‘That sounds very much as though you are matchmaking, Mrs Hargreaves.’

  Thankfully, Matt stepped in and spared Catherine from having to think up a reply. He wagged an admonishing finger at the old lady. ‘Shame on you for embarrassing poor Dr Lewis like that!’

  ‘Don’t know why she should be embarrassed when I was only speaking the truth, but I’ll not say another word more on the subject if you don’t want me to,’ the old lady replied stoutly. ‘Anyway, come along, then. Let’s be off. I want to get home to watch the telly and you’ve got them youngsters to see to. That’s another reason why you should be thinking about finding yourself a wife. Those kiddies need a mother!’

  ‘I give up!’ Matthew shook his head in despair. ‘You really are incorrigible.’ He turned to Catherine and grimaced. ‘You must think I’m a really sad case if my patients are trying to marry me off.’

  She managed a weak smile. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it, although you could have tried to sound a bit more convincing!’

  His smile told her that he was joking but Catherine decided it might be wiser not to say anything. She didn’t feel any more comfortable about discussing Matt’s love life than she’d felt about discussing her own. Matt obviously took the hint because he smoothly changed the subject.

  ‘Would you mind hanging on here until I get back, Catherine? I don’t have my keys with me and I don’t want leave the surgery unlocked. I should only be a few minutes.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll wait,’ she assured him.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Matt smiled his thanks then continued along the corridor, shortening his stride to accommodate the old lady’s slower pace. It was typically thoughtful of him to go out of his way to help her, Catherine thought. His kindness was an intrinsic part of his nature and one of the things she liked most about him.

  She frowned, somewhat surprised by that thought. She rarely formed opinions about the people she worked with, mainly because they never aroused her interest to any extent. However, there was something about Matt which appealed to her on many different levels. She certainly wasn’t indifferent to him.

  The idea was oddly unsettling. Catherine found herself trying to work out why Matt should have this effect on her as she made her way along the corridor. She paused outside his room then slowly went inside. Maybe she would find a clue to explain the mystery in here?

  She looked around, taking stock of all the usual fitments she would have expected to see in any doctor’s consulting room. The mahogany desk and chairs were very similar to the ones in her own room, ditto the green leather examination couch and screen. The shelves and cupboards which lined the walls held all the usual paraphernalia needed in the course of a working day. In fact, everything in the room seemed to be of a purely functional nature and did little to solve her problem.

  She turned to leave then stopped when she caught sight of a framed photograph on the desk. She picked it up and studied it curiously. Matt was instantly recognisable even though the picture must have been taken several years ago if the baby he was holding was Hannah. The other child must be his elder daughter, Catherine decided, although the little girl didn’t look anything like Matt with that long dark hair and deep brown eyes. Maybe she favoured her mother more?

  ‘Excuse me, but do you know where my dad is?’

  Catherine swung round, feeling rather guilty about being caught snooping. She immediately recognised the girl who was standing in the doorway as the child in the photograph even though she was several years older now.

  ‘Your father is helping a patient across the road,’ she explained, quickly putting the photograph back in its place. ‘He shouldn’t be very long, though.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Catherine’s brows rose when she heard the disappointment in her voice. ‘That sounded ominous. Problems?’

  The girl sighed. ‘I’m stuck on my French homework. Gran usually helps me but she’s gone to the cinema tonight with Aunt Bet…she’s my great-aunt really but she hates me calling her that…so I wanted Dad to help me instead. I’m Becky, by the way.’

  ‘And I’m Catherine Lewis, the new doctor who’s standing in for Glenda.’

  ‘Oh, I already guessed that. Hannah told me all about you. She said that you were really nice and had promised to read her a story…’ Becky stopped and looked hopefully at her. ‘I don’t suppose you speak French, do you? Maybe you could help me seeing as my dad isn’t here?’

  ‘Your father shouldn’t be very long,’ Catherine began, then stopped when she saw Becky’s crestfallen expression. She wasn’t that old that she couldn’t remember how long even ten minutes had felt when she’d been a child.

  ‘All right, I’ll give it a go. But don’t expect too much, will you? My French is very rusty!’

  ‘Cool! And your French can’t be as rusty as Dad’s because you aren’t nearly as old as he is! I’ll just fetch my books.’

  Catherine chuckled as Becky hurried away. She would love to see Matt’s reaction to that comment after what he’d said earlier in the day about having a birthday coming up! Becky came back a few minutes later and put the books on the desk.

  ‘It’s this bit here I’m stuck on. I’ve got to translate it into French and I don’t know if I’ve got the verb right.’

  Catherine looked at what she had written and quickly spotted the problem. ‘I think it should be voudrais but we’d better check just to be sure.’

  She and Becky were soon engrossed in the intricacies of French verbs so that neither of them realised that Matt had returned. It was only when she happened to look up that Catherine saw him standing in the doorway. There was the oddest expression on his face, a kind of wistful longing that filled her with an unexpected feeling of tenderness. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him close, promise him that she would do everything in her power to make him happy, but how could she do that? She couldn’t take the risk of becoming involved in his life because of the effect it could have on her future plans.

  ‘Here’s your father now, Becky,’ she said, struggling to keep the ache out of her voice. She wasn’t sure why it was so difficult to draw back when she’d found it the easiest thing in the world to do in the past. There had been few occasions when she had felt any desire to get close to someone, but she couldn’t deny that she felt it now. It scared her because she knew just how dangerous it was. She only had to remember how her own mother had suffered to know that she would never risk making that mistake.

  ‘Looks like someone’s been busy,’ Matt observed as he came into the room. Catherine saw him glance at her but she pretended not to notice as she screwed the cap back on her pen. Maybe she should feel relieved that she was back on track once more, but the fact that she’d needed to remind herself of the dangers of getting involved with him simply proved that she needed to be constantly on her guard.

  ‘So what’s the problem, Beck?’ He glanced at the books spread across his desk. ‘Are you stuck on your homework?’

  ‘I was but Catherine has sorted it all out for me.’ Becky grinned as she gathered up her homework. ‘Thanks, Catherine. Your French is heaps better than Dad’s. It’s such a long time since he was at school that he’s forgotten most of the things he learned!’

  ‘Cheeky monkey!’ Matt aimed a playful cuff at his daughter’s ear. He glowered when Becky grinned and skipped out of the way. ‘I’ll remember that the next time you ask me for help, young lady.’

  ‘I’ll get Catherine to help me instead,’ Becky retorted. ‘She’s brilliant at French!’

  ‘Is she indeed?’ Matt glanced at her and Catherine felt her pulse leap when she saw the warmth in his eyes. ‘It looks as though I made the right decision by offering her a job here. She’s not only a wonderful doctor but she’s also great at doi
ng homework. I wonder what other talents she’s keeping hidden from us?’

  Catherine had no idea what to say. Maybe it was her imagination but the air suddenly seemed to be charged with tension. It was a relief when a piping little voice suddenly butted in and spared her having to think up a reply.

  ‘If Catherine has doned your homework, Becky, then can she read me a storwy now?’

  She turned towards the door and saw Hannah standing there. The little girl smiled beseechingly as she showed Catherine the book she was holding. ‘Will you, Catherine? Please?’

  Catherine looked helplessly from the child to Matt, hoping he would help her out of her predicament, but he was trying hard not to laugh. ‘I did warn you. I said that Hannah has a positive talent for coming up on your blind side!’

  Catherine tried her best to think of an excuse but she simply couldn’t find it in her heart to disappoint the little girl. ‘Very well. But just one story, mind you!’

  ‘Course,’ Hannah agreed blithely. She took hold of Catherine’s hand. ‘Come on, Catherine. I’ll show you where my bedroom is. We can snuggle up together under the quilt while you read to me.’

  Catherine let herself be led from the room even though she could hear warning bells clanging inside her head. She knew it was a mistake to let herself get involved this way but she couldn’t seem to stop what was happening. She sighed as she followed Hannah up the stairs. Working at Brookdale Surgery seemed to entail a lot more than simply doing her job.

  “‘And the two frogs stayed in the pond and lived happily ever after.”’

  Catherine closed the book, wondering if Hannah really was asleep now. Each time she’d tried to make her escape the little girl had opened her eyes and begged her to read her another story. However, it appeared that she had finally dozed off.

  She switched off the lamp and crept out of the room then nearly leapt out of her skin when she spotted Matt leaning against the landing wall.

  ‘I was just coming to see how you were getting on,’ he explained. ‘I know what a little horror Hannah can be when she coerces someone into reading to her. She never lets them get away with just one story. How many did it take tonight?’