The Lakeland Doctor's Decision

by Gill Sanderson

  Faith was a bit thrown by this, especially as he was smiling as he spoke. She had been expecting a fight. ‘Er, yes,’ she said.

  ‘I did pay attention to what you said. I called to see Rosie last night on my way home. You were right, she was already muddled with the instructions.’

  ‘You called to see her?’ Faith was surprised. Not many consultants would do this unless it was absolutely necessary.

  He looked at her wryly. ‘You were the one who told me seeing patients in their own home often tells you far more than seeing them in a consulting room.’

  Now she felt uncomfortable, she had misjudged him. He had listened. He did care for his patients as much as she did. ‘So what do you think is best to do now?’ she asked.

  He was looking genuinely pleased with himself for having solved a problem her way, rather than relying on a faceless team of professionals. ‘I remembered what you said about this being a tight community and that people looked out for each other. When I collected Molly, I had a talk with Abbey. She knows even more about the people around here than you do, and that’s saying something. Anyway, she told me Rosie’s mother-in-law lives in the same village but she hasn’t seen much of Rosie herself because she disapproves of Rosie’s father who is often over there. She thinks he’s a drunken ne’er-do well.’

  ‘She could be right.’

  ‘But when I told her that her first grandchild’s life could be at risk, she got angry with herself. She decided she had to take a more active part in her family’s life. From now on she’ll be round at Rosie’s house twice a day to make sure Rosie is taking all her medication and following all my instructions. I gave her a copy of them.’

  ‘Do you think it will work?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ He smiled again. ‘If it comes to a contest of wills, I would back Mrs Beckett senior against Mrs Beckett junior and her drunken father any day.’

  Now Faith felt even more off-balance. She was cross with herself for misjudging Chris, pleased for Rosie, and shamefully bothered that Chris had proved he could sort out Dale Head community problems without her help. ‘Congratulations,’ she said, trying not to sound grudging. ‘That was truly brilliant on your part.’

  He grinned. ‘Not me. You pointed out what was likely to happen. I didn’t give it a thought before that. You were right and I was wrong.’

  Faith gave a weak smile. ‘You’re being generous.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m just beginning to recognise that it’s true that this hospital is almost like a family.’ His voice lowered, she realised that he had abandoned his semi-serious, joking tone. He took her hand, shocking and confusing her. ‘We’re a great team, Faith. We work so well together. Don’t fight me.’

  ‘I’m not.’ And she wasn’t. She’d come here all fired up and he’d disarmed her. He was a good community doctor as well as a good surgeon. A few more weeks and he wouldn’t need her at all. That was great. It meant if she got the Hadrian’s Wall job, Dale Head wouldn’t suffer. So why did she feel so flat? Why did him holding her hand make her want to cry?

  ‘Faith?’ He had a half-smile on his face. Almost tender.

  She pulled her hand away, rubbed it distractedly. ‘I don’t know what to say, Chris. You’re doing great.’ Another quick breath. ‘I have a clinic in ten minutes. See you later.’

  She was running away and she knew it. Something was going to come to a head between them soon and for the first time in her life she didn’t know how she was going to react. It wasn’t just unsettling – it was downright terrifying. For some reason, one of her parents’ favourite songs, an old pop song, popped into her head. Que sera sera. In other words: whatever will be, will be. And there was another line in it indicating that the future wasn’t theirs to see. Her haphazard parents had always drawn comfort from the idea. Faith shook her head. There might be truth there but she would much prefer to see where she was going, thank you very much.

  * * *

  Chris knelt by the bath, poured water over his daughter’s head and shoulders. Molly shrieked with pleasure. She loved water. It struck him that they had not been swimming since they had moved, the past few weeks had been too busy to find where the nearest baths were. Or, as it was summer, why not bathe in a lake or river somewhere? He must ask Faith where would be a good place.

  Faith. He relied upon her so much. Professionally certainly, no consultant could wish for a better senior registrar. But Faith had also helped him settle in the community, had introduced him to people he could rely on, had explained how life was different here from the always hurrying, buzzing city.

  ‘When is Faith going to paint my garden?’ asked Molly, uncannily picking up her father’s thoughts.

  He didn’t know that she was. ‘We haven’t asked her yet. Did you see her today?’

  ‘Yes. She said she would be working very late so I couldn’t go over there after tea, but I could go there tomorrow. I was playing with Hannah and Luke and John and we all did ring-a-ring ’o roses and all fell down together.’

  So that was why she hadn’t made a fuss this afternoon, thought Chris ruefully. It had been Faith’s influence all the time. She was good for both of them. He remembered this morning when he’d been so full of pleasure that he was learning a new way of working with patients on the ground, so to speak, that he couldn’t help being less guarded with her than normal. He remembered the way her hand had trembled in his.

  But there was Molly. And the ever-present spectre of Lorraine.

  He took a resolute breath as he lifted Molly out of the bath and started to towel her dry. He’d ask about the mural tomorrow. Invite Faith to tea and to look at Molly’s room. They were both sensible. They could do this.

  Chapter Seven

  The message was on her desk when she arrived. In Chris’s firm, energetic writing, it asked whether she had thought any more about the mural.

  That was thoughtful of him. He wasn’t influencing her by asking face to face. He was giving her plenty of leeway to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t paint it. But she had to stop running away some time. She picked up the phone. Two minutes later she was armed with an invitation to tea and the sensation that she might just have stepped into the deep end without warning.

  She was visiting Chris as a friend, so she wanted to look nice, but casual. It was warm, so she dressed in a white T-shirt and light blue chinos. There had been an odd text from Chris on her phone during the afternoon. When you come over – go to hole in fence. So she did. And to her surprise there was a new little gate. No longer would Molly – or anyone – have to wriggle through the gap and risk tearing clothes. She looked at it, unsure how she felt.

  Still, she went through and walked up to Chris’s house. ‘Where did that gate come from?’ she asked.

  ‘I phoned Jack Kirk as soon as you said “yes” and asked him if he could fix one up. If it doesn’t work, he can reinstate the fence. I thought it might be more convenient. A gate is far easier for carrying stuff from cottage to cottage. But as I say, if you don’t like it ...’

  ‘I like it,’ she said.

  She had brought a few things with her: a tape-measure, a sketching pad, pencils, and a knife for scratching away at the surface of the wall to find what was underneath. Her mural had to have a firm base.

  Molly was ecstatic. ‘I’m going to have a garden! With flowers and ladybirds and a big tree and butterflies and fairies.’

  ‘Fairies?’ Faith had an ominous feeling about this.

  ‘Fairies. Like in my stories. Daddy reads them to me.’

  ‘Tea is ready,’ said Chris diplomatically.

  They had eaten and were playing a board game with Molly when the phone rang. Molly looked at it crossly. Phones meant attention was being taken away from her.

  ‘Chris Ford,’ said Chris, answering it. ‘Hi, Jared, what’s that? An accident? Where?’

  As he listened, scribbling notes, Faith saw his face change. It was obvious what was about to happen. She looked back at Molly, fiercely throwin
g the dice. She had a minute to make her decision.

  ‘Emergency,’ said Chris, looking harassed. ‘I’ve got to go in. A woman in her third trimester has been involved in a car crash. Extensive injuries to the abdomen as well as the rest of the body. There’s a general surgeon starting work on her at once. Jared says the foetus is still viable but there are signs of distress. He thinks that there might need to be an early Caesarean. C’mon, Molly, let’s grab your emergency bag. Have I ever told you how much I bless that playroom, Faith?’

  ‘Would you like me to stay?’ asked Faith.

  Chris stopped in the act of putting his shoes on.

  ‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘Molly and I can finish the game, then I’ll put her to bed. She can tell me where everything is. Go on. No time to waste.’

  ‘Are you sure? I mean ...’

  ‘Chris, I brought up two little girls. You’ve met one of them. See what you can do for that poor woman and her baby.’

  ‘Is that all right with you, Molly?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Molly, grinning all over her face. She threw the dice again. ‘You’ve got to miss a go, Daddy.’

  ‘You’re telling me.’ He dropped a quick kiss on her hair. ‘Be good.’ He looked at Faith. ‘See you later. And thanks.’

  It was odd. Being in Chris’s house with his daughter, but without him. They finished the game, then Molly said, ‘Can we start my garden?’

  ‘We can plan it, sweetheart. And we can walk across to my house now and get a big flower book so you can tell me what you want me to paint.’

  Molly was charmed with the gate and went through it several times. She wanted another look at Faith’s garden mural too. But eventually they were back in Chris’s cottage.

  Faith had told Chris the truth. She’d felt perfectly confident that she could look after Molly. For a start, the two of them were now firm friends and she had the experience of bringing up younger sisters.

  But it wasn’t the same. With Hope and Charity, no matter what authority she thought she had, she was still ultimately their sister. With Molly it was different. The child was so much younger that it felt more as if she was a ... mother? And being a mother felt strange and different and rather nice. But to be Molly’s mother she would have to be married to Chris. That was definitely a thought too far.

  ‘Let’s look at the pictures and you can decide which you like,’ she said to her little charge. ‘And then it’s bath time and bed.’

  ‘And a story?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Faith.

  The evening couldn’t have gone better. Two stories were needed instead of one, but that was no hardship. Faith sat by Molly’s bed, watched her go to sleep. Molly was becoming a different child from the spoiled, scared, slightly wild creature she had been when they had first met. Country life and a settled routine suited her.

  Faith switched on the child alarm and went downstairs to sit comfortably on the couch and sketch gardens. In was oddly painful at first, memories of when she’d done it last kept intruding and she had to wait until her eyes cleared. But she persevered, became engrossed and the first indication she had of Chris’s return was when she heard the front door quietly open and shut. One look at his face told her all she needed to know.

  What to do? What did she want at a time like this? She crossed to him, put her arms round him and hugged him sympathetically. Then she said, ‘Molly and I had a lovely time. Why don’t you go up and see her for a minute. I’ll make you a mug of tea. I could do a quick omelette too if you like?’

  He still hadn’t spoken. Now he said, ‘Sounds like a good idea. Faith, we did what we could but ...’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to tell me, I’ve been there myself and I know what it’s like. You know there’s nothing more you could have done but you feel a failure. But that was then and this is now. Go and kiss your daughter goodnight.’

  So he went upstairs. When he came down again she had hot food and drink waiting for him. He ate mechanically, then leant back with his eyes closed and pain etched into his face. She left it to him to speak. She knew he would eventually, there were always feelings that needed to be brought out into the open after a bad operation. She sat by his side, intending to sketch some more. But the failure rolling off him was too much for her to bear. She wrapped her hand gently around his. Slowly she felt some of the tension leaving him.

  ‘She’d lost too much blood,’ he said in an exhausted voice. ‘There was massive trauma to the chest, a fractured skull. Abdomen messed up too ... it must have been a hell of a crash. She was only twenty-five, a young, strong woman and she hung on for longer than I would have thought possible. But although we all worked as best we could, we knew there could only be one ending. I got the baby out. Not a real Caesarean, half the cutting had already been done by torn metal in the car. I got the baby to the paediatric team – it was a little boy. But too much damage had already been done. He died after half an hour.’

  ‘Any relatives there?’

  ‘The husband. I had to talk to him. That’s never a job that is easy. Then I left him with Jared Carpenter while I dealt with the paperwork.’ For a moment Chris’s mask of despair lifted. ‘Jared was far better at dealing with the husband than I expected. Better than I was, I think. Straight into the counselling, if any of it sticks through the poor bloke’s shock. That lad has got everything it takes to be a great doctor. Oh, God, Faith, I feel lousy.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Why did you send me up to look at Molly?’

  ‘Silly. To be reminded that there is life as well as death.’

  ‘Clever, aren’t you? How did your evening go?’

  She knew what he was doing; he was trying to find a way back to normality, trying to anchor himself in the ordinary, the simple good things in life. ‘Well, I’m afraid you did appallingly in the game once Molly was in charge of your moves. But we fetched a flower book to look at and she decided she wants a big tree painted around her wardrobe. And she told me all about the fairies. My word, there are a lot of them.’

  Chris gave a faint smile. ‘A whole series. I’ll have you know those fairies are all close personal friends to me by now. Are they going to feature in the painting?’

  ‘Heavily, it seems. I’ll have to practise.’ She could tell by his gradual relaxation that things were becoming easier in his head now. She glanced at her watch, nearly midnight. ‘Time I was going. I’ve got a full day tomorrow.’

  ‘You always have a full day. I’m sorry you have to go. It’s so nice sitting next to someone comfortable and understanding and non-critical.’ He turned his head, ‘Thank you, Faith.’

  She didn’t kid herself that he meant playing with Molly and rustling him up an omelette. ‘You’d do the same for me, for any of the team.’

  The team. There she went again, pretending that they were just colleagues.

  He held her eyes for a moment, then got up. ‘I’ll walk you back.’ He switched on the outside light so it illuminated his garden; she could see the new little gate. And there was her kitchen light. She shook her head. ‘There’s no need, Chris. I’m practically home already. You’ve made it easy.’

  She had intended just to brush his cheek with her lips. This evening there had been too much emotion already. But the fraction of a second when he turned his head was enough to change everything. His cheek was slightly rough, he had not shaved since the morning. There was the faint touch of citrus aftershave and it was warmed by the scent of his skin. A warm, exciting, essentially male combination.

  Chris made a tiny sound. Of pain? Of pleasure? Then somehow his arms had slid round her waist to hold her securely and she was holding him too. She felt a great sense that ... that everything was proper. This was like coming home, this was where she belonged. He was so gentle. The knowledge was there in her head that if she wanted she could stop this kiss, could step back, smile, and say goodnight. And because she felt so certain ... why, she might as well stay where she was. She hadn’t realised how
much she’d missed this closeness to a man. It was glorious.

  She held him a little more firmly. Their bodies were pressed together, she felt his thigh next to hers, her breasts squeezed against the muscles of his chest. And she liked it. Her arm wrapped itself round his neck. She was pulling him closer to her, her mouth opening to accept him. She was swept away by her need and by his. The embrace was happening without any planning, any thought, but it all seemed to be so right. It was right. She could feel the strength of his desire for her, but for the moment she didn’t care. She was being kissed, she was enjoying it, she wanted ...

  What was she doing! She hadn’t intended this. Faith pulled her arm from round his neck and broke off the kiss. She moved away, looking at Chris with consternation.

  He had released her at once. But she could feel the regret. ‘Oh, God, Faith,’ he said, his voice shaking. He carried on just as if she had spoken aloud. ‘I’m so sorry. Wrong time, wrong reason. But don’t think I didn’t want to go on.’

  So had she. It was profoundly disturbing.

  She made herself speak. ‘I ... I don’t know what to say. It was lovely, but ... ’

  Chris shook his head helplessly. ‘I know. I know. Oh why do I always mess up?’

  ‘You don’t,’ Faith said quickly. She put her hand back on his arm. ‘Chris, you really don’t. Like you said, it was just the wrong time and for the wrong reason. But that doesn’t mean to say it was wrong completely.’

  He looked at her, but she couldn’t read his expression. ‘Really?’

  And now she was uncertain again. ‘Really. You didn’t mess up. I didn’t mind. I ... I need to think things through. I’ll see you tomorrow.’