The Pregnant Police Surgeon

by Abigail Gordon

  ‘Of course I want to come and work at the Sycamores,’ she said laughingly. ‘There is just one fly in the ointment, though. I discovered last night that my father is a patient at the practice and we don’t exactly see eye to eye.’

  ‘What is it with the two of you?’ he questioned.

  She shrugged slim shoulders inside the bulky robe. ‘Conflict of personalities.’

  ‘Yes, well, as long as there’s none of that with regard to the practice, what you do in your own time is nothing to do with me. And the chief constable is my patient anyway. You won’t be involved and in any case he only consults me rarely.’

  While he’d been putting that problem into perspective, Imogen’s mind had been on the much bigger one that as yet he didn’t know about. She’d been avoiding the truth when she’d said there was only one fly in the ointment. There were two, and now was an ideal moment to mention the other one. But the words wouldn’t come out and with a queasy feeling in her stomach that wasn’t connected with the morning sickness she knew that she was going to let the moment pass. There would be plenty of time to tell him about her pregnancy.

  ‘So we have an agreement?’ he was asking.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right. I’ll get the practice manager to put it in writing. When can you start? The sooner the better so that you can get settled in before Bill leaves for pastures new.’

  ‘Er…tomorrow?’

  Blair nodded.

  ‘Why not? Once you’re in place we’ll have to discuss how we’re going to fit in our police surgeon commitments so that they don’t clash.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she murmured, her mind awash with what it was all going to mean.

  ‘That’s where I’ve been this morning,’ Blair said as he turned to go. ‘On police surgeon business.’

  She was fully tuned in now.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Road rage incident on the motorway in the early morning rush hour. The two men concerned started fighting and ended up in the police cells. Apparently they both seemed all right when they were arrested but one of them complained of head pains from when he’d hit the ground during the scuffle and so they called me out to check him over.

  ‘There weren’t any visible signs of damage to the skull. His vision was OK, so was his co-ordination, but I recommended that he be taken to Casualty to have an X-ray. I don’t taken any chances that someone locked up on my patch might come to grief in the cells through lack of medical care.’

  ‘Well, of course,’ she agreed slowly, ‘but you say that as if there’s a special reason why you feel that way.’

  ‘There is. Many years ago my elder brother was locked up mistakenly. They thought he was in a drunken stupor when it was a diabetic coma. If it hadn’t been for the efficient police surgeon who was called out to him he could have died.’

  ‘So you have a brother? Any more family besides him?’

  ‘Yes, there are three of us. One brother older, one younger. Simon, the youngest, is living with me until such time as he can afford a place of his own. Our parents died some years ago and I’ve looked out for him ever since.’

  ‘You aren’t married, then?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Never found the time or the right woman, and have felt even less inclined to get involved with anyone since I had an unpleasant experience with a young GP some time ago. I found her deceitful and conniving.’

  Dismay was swamping her. Deceitful…conniving…What was he going to think she was in the very near future?

  ‘And yet you’re taking me on?’

  He laughed.

  ‘Yes. Lightning doesn’t usually strike twice. I’m willing to take the risk.’

  If Imogen hadn’t been feeling so demoralised to hear about her disruptive predecessor she would have bounced back and told him that she wasn’t asking for favours. But his description of the other woman was like a death knell to her hopes.

  ‘I really do have to go,’ Blair said, breaking into the silence that had fallen. ‘Morning surgery starts at half past eight. So we’ll see you tomorrow.’ With a quizzical lift of one eyebrow he added, ‘Have you got an alarm clock?’

  ‘Yes. Why? You surely don’t think I’ll oversleep on my first day?’ she flashed back indignantly.

  ‘Maybe not, but from where I’m standing…’

  ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover, Dr Nesbitt. For your information, I was in bed by ten o’clock last night. On my own and completely sober.’

  He was frowning.

  ‘So why…? You’re not ill, are you?’

  ‘No. I’m not ill. I’m in glowing health.’

  He was eyeing her doubtfully and she thought that the last thing she should be doing was directing his attention to her physical state.

  When he’d gone she went to the window and watched him walk across the forecourt of the apartments to where he’d parked his car. He had style and authority, his life all mapped out, knew exactly where he was going, while she was in chaos.

  She’d found somewhere that she wanted to work and someone that she wanted to get to know better, but she was going about it all in the wrong way, she thought dismally. Would Blair Nesbitt think that history was repeating itself when he discovered her secret?

  Lauren Brown, the receptionist she’d been at school with, observed her in pleased surprise when Imogen strolled into the practice the next day.

  She’d got her poise back this morning, was thinking positively and about to make a statement about her capabilities. Just as long as the nausea she’d experienced earlier didn’t return. If it did she would have to conceal it in the best way she could.

  ‘Blair said we were to have a new doctor starting this morning.’ Lauren said after they’d given each other a hug, ‘but I didn’t expect it to be you after I’d told you there were no vacancies.’

  ‘I looked for you when I came for the interview,’ Imogen told her, ‘but someone said it was your day off. Dr Nesbitt and I met at the police station after we’d both been called out to the same person and I asked him to let me know if he heard of any vacancies. Lo and behold, he came back to me on it. And here I am.’

  ‘If you’d like to step into the office my partners are waiting, and once we’ve given you a briefing the day can get under way,’ Blair’s voice said from behind her.

  She swivelled round and when she saw his expression Imogen felt that, whatever the future held, at this moment he was observing her favourably.

  She was immaculate in a black tailored suit and white silk blouse, offset with sheer tights and black leather shoes with a sensible heel. Her hair was brushed into a smooth cap and her make-up as light and flattering as her perfume.

  She saw amusement in his eyes and knew why. He guessed that this was to wipe out her unimpressive appearance of the previous morning. His next comment was proof of it.

  ‘So you did manage to get up in time,’ he remarked in a low voice. ‘The effect is worthy of the effort.’

  ‘I’m so glad you approve,’ she told him smoothly. ‘Yesterday you caught me at an awkward moment.’

  ‘Well, you certainly looked ghastly,’ he remarked, adding with his brow creasing into a frown, ‘I know I asked you this yesterday, but I feel I must ask again. You aren’t ill, are you?’

  Imogen shook her head.

  ‘I assure you that I’m not suffering from anything that might affect my work here.’

  Taking her arm, he propelled her towards the door of the office.

  The other two partners were affable enough, yet not all that keyed into the prospect of another doctor on the team, but as one of them was leaving in a few days’ time and the other looked to be nearing retirement age, she supposed it wasn’t surprising.

  And the advantage of that situation was that it would throw Blair and herself together more once the others had gone. Just as long as he wasn’t going to feel that in her case lightning had struck twice.

  To counteract that possibility she needed to
make herself indispensable so, taking off her jacket, she straightened the cuffs of her blouse and asked coolly. ‘Which room is mine?’

  ‘The small one next to mine,’ Blair told her. ‘There is a connecting door, so if you have any problems don’t hesitate to bring them to me. And, Imogen, welcome to the Sycamores.’

  Her smile flashed out and in the bright hazel gaze that met his was a promise of good things to come. At least he hoped that was what he was seeing there.

  When he’d called at her apartment the previous day Blair had known that he’d been acting out of character. For one thing, it wasn’t the done thing to call on someone who was a comparative stranger at that hour. And for another, there had been no need to go personally to tell Imogen that the vacancy was hers if she wanted it. He could have phoned just as easily.

  But he’d wanted to see her again. To be in her presence. He’d met her twice previously and on both occasions she’d been a different person—the first time confident and bouncy, and the second much more subdued. He hoped that she wasn’t going to be so unpredictable now she was working with him.

  Imogen’s first patient was a young mother who’d found a lump in her breast. On examining her, she confirmed that there was indeed a lump there. It was small but an alien swelling nevertheless.

  ‘I’m going to send you for a biopsy,’ Imogen told her. ‘It’s possible that it’s benign but we can’t take any chances. Is there any history of breast cancer in the family?’

  The patient nodded glumly.

  ‘Yes. My mum’s had it in the past and my sister’s got it now. I’ve been waiting for this to happen.’

  Imogen observed her sympathetically. What an awful prospect for this poor woman to have hanging over her. It was obviously in the genes. But that didn’t mean that this was another case of cancer. Life wasn’t always that predictable.

  ‘And did your mother recover?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She took the woman’s clenched hand in hers and said gently, ‘Let’s keep an open mind, shall we, until the results come through? I know this is a very anxious time for you, but if your mother overcame the illness that does provide some reassurance if the test should prove positive.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ the patient agreed with the vestige of a smile. ‘But it doesn’t take away the dread of being the next victim of a family curse.’

  Imogen nodded. There wasn’t a lot she could say to that. Inherited illnesses were the nightmares that some families had to live with.

  When she’d gone, the communicating door between the two rooms opened and Blair said, ‘So? How did it go with your first patient?’

  ‘Fine,’ she told him with the gravity of what she had just been hearing still upon her. ‘A lump in the breast.’

  Blair nodded.

  ‘Yes, she asked to see a woman doctor so it was fortunate, you being here.’

  ‘It must have sometimes been inconvenient when you were an all-male team,’ she remarked.

  He smiled.

  ‘Yes, it was, so we are very pleased to have you here. By the way, while we have a moment to spare, how did you get on the police surgeons’ register, if it wasn’t by pulling strings?’

  Imogen eyed him mutinously.

  ‘If you mean did I tell the authorities who I was, no, I didn’t. I don’t want to rise in the profession by climbing on my father’s shoulders. I’d done some police surgeon work in Birmingham that had been described as very satisfactory, so there was no problem. I feel the same as you, that those in the cells should receive the same care as those who consult us here.’

  As the morning progressed Imogen found she was enjoying herself. Since leaving Birmingham, she’d missed the atmosphere of the practice and the varied number of ailments that each day brought.

  One of her patients was a seventeen-year-old girl, very tall, easily six feet, who said with quiet determination that she wanted to be made smaller.

  Her mother was with her and the woman was totally fraught at the prospect of what her daughter was asking for.

  After the first few moments of surprise Imogen talked to the girl gently, aware of the presence of strong undercurrents.

  ‘You are tall,’ she agreed, ‘but so are most young people these days. It’s folk like myself who are in the minority.’

  ‘Men don’t like tall women,’ she was told gloomily.

  Nothing Imogen could say would persuade the teenager otherwise, so she decided to give her the facts.

  ‘What you are asking for is a very complex thing,’ Imogen told her. ‘Yes, it is done under certain circumstances, but only when the height of the person is such that they would be forever handicapped by it, or for health reasons. There are lots of teenagers as tall as you, and what you are asking for would mean the shortening of your leg bones. Tampering with healthy joints, weeks of discomfort, and all for what? The loss of a few inches?

  ‘Go home and think about it very carefully. If you are still unhappy when you’ve done that, I can arrange for you to talk to a counsellor about your worries before recommending you to an orthopaedic consultant, who will almost certainly say the same as I have.’

  The teenager went, still unconvinced, but her mother flashed Imogen a grateful smile.

  There’d been a raised voice in the room next door during the morning, but the underlying calm tones of Blair had eventually seemed to have taken some of the heat out of the atmosphere.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Imogen asked when the waiting room had finally been cleared.

  Blair sighed.

  ‘Some guy who was getting all upset because the results of his wife’s tests hadn’t come through. I got the receptionist to chase them up and they should be here in the morning. He’s normally the calmest of mortals but stress can do funny things to us and I’m afraid that family has some traumatic days ahead. I suspect that his wife might have lupus and it’s not a pleasant complaint, as I’m sure you know.

  ‘Which prompts me to say that if ever you experience any kind of aggression in the consulting room, ring for me. Violence towards doctors and nurses is becoming more prevalent all the time and it just won’t do. Not in this place anyway.’

  ‘I can look after myself, you know,’ she told him.

  ‘So you keep saying,’ he commented drily, ‘but nevertheless bear that in mind, will you? Turning to more mundane things, here’s a list of calls. I’ve picked out those that should be relatively simple until you’re more familiar with the patients, and when you’ve done them I suggest you grab a bite of lunch.’

  She was ravenous and said, ‘After? Not before?’

  ‘Why, didn’t you have any breakfast?’

  Imogen wondered what he would say if she came out with the trite old phrase that she was eating for two. Quite a lot, she imagined, but that day had yet to come.

  ‘The women patients are really pleased that we have a woman doctor in the practice again,’ Lauren said when Imogen stopped at Reception before leaving on her rounds.

  ‘That’s good to know. Speaking of women doctors, Blair told me he’d once had a problem with a trainee GP. Do you know what that was all about?’ she asked curiously. From what she’d seen so far of Blair Nesbitt, he didn’t look like the sort of man who would let himself be intimidated by anyone.

  Lauren looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard and said, ‘She was a trainee from Aberdeen who was more tart than tartan and she was determined to get her claws into Blair. He didn’t want to know and in the end had to tell her so, which made her turn spiteful. She accused him of falsifying prescriptions, neglecting his patients and every other misdemeanour she could think of. The practice was investigated but needless to say it was all proved to be lies and he sent her on her way.’ Lauren looked at Imogen meaningfully. ‘He’s been wary of women ever since, but he seems quite keen on you.’ She smiled. ‘So what is it that you’ve got that others haven’t?’

  ‘Nothing that I can think of.’

  ‘Except th
at you are every man’s dream girl.’

  Imogen grimaced.

  ‘Time will tell but, take it from me, I’m more likely to turn out to be his nightmare than his dream girl.’

  The fact that she was pregnant by a man who wasn’t around any more would be seen by some as cause for sympathy, but others might construe her present state and her confident breezy nonchalance as an indication that she was free and easy with her favours.

  Only she knew that she cried herself to sleep each night, and wasn’t sure if her tears were for the dead Sean, herself or her fatherless child. She supposed they were for all three of them if the truth were known.

  So far so good, Blair was thinking as he set off in the opposite direction to Imogen to do his own visits. Imogen had dealt with morning surgery in a cool and efficient manner. She’d turned up looking very smart and hadn’t put a foot wrong so far. She was like her father in those respects, but for the rest she was an unknown quantity.

  Did that matter, though? It was what she brought to the practice that mattered, not what was going on beneath that shiny dark hair. Had she a man in her life? he wondered. It would be incredible if she hadn’t. Yet her down-to-earth manner could be offputting, he supposed.

  As he pulled up in front of a home for the elderly he put thoughts of her to one side and went to seek out the sister in charge.

  ‘It’s George again, Doctor,’ she said when he was shown into the office. ‘He’s wandered off three times today and the third time he fell and hurt his knee. We keep a close watch on him, but it isn’t possible to have our eye on him all the time. Would you take a look at him?’

  The old man in question could talk about some things with a mind as sharp as his own and at other times he was completely disorientated when blood flow to the brain was impeded.

  ‘Yes of course, I’ll take a look at the knee,’ he told her. ‘Where is he?’

  The bony knee was bruised and swollen, and as Blair looked into watery blue eyes there was an emptiness there that told its own story.

  The sister was hovering and he said, ‘I think an X-ray just to be on the safe side. Have you someone free to take him? If not, send for an ambulance, Sister.’