‘No, not really. I used to do a bit with my parents but it’s all behind me now.’
She needed a diversion. Reaching for her file on the table, she said, ‘I’ve got Alice Tennant’s notes here.’
Usually she managed to conceal it. But as she stretched out her arm across the table the inside of her elbow was revealed, and Ross, far more alert than his casual manner suggested, saw it.
‘That’s an interesting scar, Lyn. D’you mind telling me what caused it?
Why should she mind? It was just an area of her life she didn’t want Ross to know about—well, not yet. She could lie, of course—but she wouldn’t. Trying to remain calm and indifferent, she said, ‘As a matter of fact, it was a bit of emergency surgery when I was a child. I’d been bitten by a snake—a pit viper.’
She remembered it still. She’d been told to be careful, to avoid disturbing anything, not to go pushing through bushes. But her ball had rolled under some foliage, where she could see it, so she’d just reached in and…
‘You don’t cut into a bite by a snake! It spreads the venom even further!’
‘I know that now. But the man in charge of our group didn’t know, he panicked and did what he thought best. Fortunately there was a local anaesthetic that worked after a fashion. It was one of the things that made me want to be a doctor. My parents had been spending a day up country, but by good luck they came back early. The snake had struck in the vein so I was getting hypotensive. They gave me twenty millilitres of antivenin, and so I recovered. But my father wasn’t much good at suturing.’
‘Your parents! You’re Jack and Jo Webster’s daughter!’
Now it was out. ‘Yes, I’m their daughter.’
Ross was obviously delighted. ‘I read an article that said they had a daughter who was training to be a doctor. I thought it was a great idea. And you’re a climber too.’
Lyn was well aware that Melissa didn’t at all like this turn in the conversation. Her face was frozen in a half-smile but her body language said that she was angry. Ross turned to her and said excitedly, ‘This is great. Lyn’s parents have been my heroes for years. You must have read their books, about their expeditions in South America, Nepal, and bits of Africa.’
‘I think I might have,’ Melissa conceded frostily. ‘Look, Ross, can we sort out this problem with Alice? I need to get on and I know you’re needed back at Everton Heights
‘Of course.’ Now he was going to be fully professional. But before he reached for the notes he said, ‘I want to talk to you more about your parents, Lyn. I’m hoping to spend a few years in South America myself, do some climbing, a bit of expedition work. I’m fed up with London, been here too long.’
‘I’ve heard people say they feel that way,’ Lyn said dully. ‘It’s never happened to me; I like London.’
She didn’t know what to feel, what to think. Not five minutes before she had met a man who had affected her more than any in her life, and now he was talking about an expedition to South America. There was only one thing to do—the thing she always did. She must seek refuge in work.
She found an unexpected ally in Melissa, who opened the notes on the table and said, ‘Ross, we need to get on. Now, Alice is getting worse. She’s getting increasingly distressed, having difficulty breathing. I’m wondering about an emergency tracheotomy and then perhaps mechanical ventilation.’
He read through the notes and then sat at the table, frowning. ‘I don’t like cutting holes in little girls’ throats unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’ve got her on steroids?’
‘Yes. They don’t appear to be doing much good.’
‘That’s not unusual, but I suppose we have to try them. I would have said that her condition is about to improve. I’d like to avoid the tracheotomy. Come on, let’s have a quick look at the patient. Coming, Lyn?’
His examination was quick but thorough. Lyn liked the cheerful way he smiled at Alice who tried to smile back though her facial muscles were now partly paralysed. She was labouring for breath, her chest hardly expanding at all, and her lips were showing signs of cyanosis. Ross patted her on the shoulder and then led the little party away from her bed.
‘It’s distressing, I know, hearing her like that. But she’s getting just enough oxygen. I wouldn’t perform a tracheotomy just yet. Wait till the end of the day, see if there’s any improvement. If there isn’t, or if things have got worse, then operate.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Now I really must move. Lyn, is there any chance of you arranging for me to meet your parents? There’s an awful lot I’d like to ask them.’
‘They’re in Scotland at the moment,’ Lyn said. ‘But they’ll be coming down south in a fortnight or so. They live near the Forest of Dean—when they’re at home. Yes, I can arrange for you to meet them.’
‘Good. I’ll be in touch. Let me know about Alice, Melissa.’ A last mouthful of the coffee they had poured for themselves and he was gone.
Lyn and Melissa sat in silence in the doctors’ room, each concerned with her own thoughts. Then Melissa said drily, ‘You are doing well, aren’t you, Lyn? Only met the man once and you’re taking him home to meet your parents.’
Lyn ignored the barb. She said, ‘He wants to lead an expedition, he wants to live in the wild end of South America, and he’s a climber, never happy unless he’s in the great outdoors. Melissa, that’s exactly the kind of man I don’t like, I don’t want, and I wouldn’t have under any circumstances.’
Melissa stared, open-mouthed at Lyn’s angry outburst. Then she said, ‘You mean that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Lyn. ‘I mean every word.’
She had a good afternoon. As ever, she found a respite in work. A neonate was admitted and she had to take blood. It was hard but she found the tiny vein at the first attempt. She wanted to think about Ross McKinnon and the effect he had on her, but she couldn’t while she worked. Besides, he wasn’t the man for her.
Then, as she was walking through the mini-mall on her way out, she heard her name called. There was Ross walking towards her, tie loosened and coat over his shoulder, looking relaxed, casual, and gorgeous in the late afternoon sun.
He smiled. ‘Lyn, fancy meeting you here, this is a coincidence, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is,’ she said. ‘A complete coincidence.’
‘Ah. Do I detect an element of doubt? All right, I’ll confess all, I rushed my afternoon surgeries just so I could be here to meet you. In fact, I wanted to take you for a drink. Have you got time?’
‘I have an hour, but why do you want to take me for a drink? Can’t we talk in the hospital?’
‘I want to get to know all my junior staff. And especially the daughter of the Websters. Remember, people don’t talk in the hospital, they communicate or converse or put over their point of view. I want something a bit more casual.’
She looked at him dubiously. Perhaps she ought to start now, keeping him at a distance. That sudden flash of intimacy that had passed between them this morning was still in her mind. This man was dangerous to her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let him get close to her. But he was one of her two specialist registrars, and she would learn a lot from him. She could feel herself weakening.
‘All right, then. But just for an hour. I’ve work to do tonight.’
‘In the neurology department everyone has work to do every night. But you can spare an hour.’
While they’d been talking he had manoeuvred her out of the great glass doors and they were now on the outside pavement. The sun struck down on them both, for it was a warm afternoon. He held her arm and escorted her across the busy main road as the pedestrian crossing beeped for them.
‘You don’t mind my taking your arm? More than a few women doctors would complain bitterly, either that I was harassing them or that I was treating them in a sexist fashion.’
She knew he was being light-hearted, but she answered his question seriously. ‘No, I don’t mind. I like a well-mannered man. Too many of my
male colleagues think that treating me as an equal means treating me as one of the boys. That I don’t want.’
‘I could never mistake you for a boy, Dr Webster. How is young Alice, by the way?’
‘There’s been a slight improvement. If it continues, then there’ll be no need for a tracheotomy.’
‘I’m glad about that.’ He was conducting her, with an ease that suggested long practice, through the maze of back streets and alleys that were hidden behind the great shops on the main road. Eventually they arrived at a pub, the Mayflower, situated on the corner of a tiny square. There were trees, seats beside them; it was warm enough to sit outside.
‘This is just far enough from the hospital to ensure we don’t meet any of the staff,’ he said, leading her to a bench. ‘I’m very fond of them, of course, but for a while I want you to myself. What may I get you to drink?’
They decided on a shandy each, for it was still quite early. When he had fetched the drinks they sat side by side, looking speculatively at each other. Her heart was racing, this man affected her so.
She had a sense of decisions being made, as if her destiny was bound up in what would be said over the next few minutes. She knew she was not just being silly.
Around them were hurrying shoppers and office workers. There was the noise of distant conversations, traffic, and the jukebox inside the pub. But she was in her own little universe, insulated from all around her. She knew he felt the same. He was looking at her, puzzled, as if not quite sure how to begin.
‘It must be wonderful having parents like Jack and Jo Webster,’ he said eventually. ‘Are you an only child?’
‘Yes, I’m an only child. And I love my parents dearly, but I’m nothing like either of them.’
‘What are you like?’
‘I’m a hard-working junior doctor, happy to live in London, who has just landed the job she wants. I love neurology and I want to learn all about it.’
She wanted to deflect his enquiries as long as possible. ‘What about you? What are you like?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m a hard-working senior doctor. I enjoy the work no end and I know it’s time I started looking round for a consultancy. But I don’t want to yet. Once you’re a consultant you’re expected to stay in the same place for years, if not for ever. I don’t want that.’
‘You can miss the boat,’ she told him. ‘There are only a few years when you can look for the exact right job. Every year there are more bright people coming up underneath. You might have to stay as a registrar, floating round from one post to another.’
She stopped for a moment and then added, ‘I think that would be a pity.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not going to live my life sniffing round after promotion. If I’m worth it, then there should always be a job for me.’
In one way she didn’t really want to know. She suspected that what he would tell her would drive a wedge deep between them. Perhaps it would be best to know before they got—well, too close. So she asked, ‘What were you saying about working in South America?’
He was instantly enthusiastic, so enthusiastic that he didn’t notice that his enthusiasm wasn’t shared. ‘There’s an American charity called AndesAid. They build and supply hospitals in the more remote parts of the South American highlands. The ultimate aim, of course, is to make the hospitals self-supporting, with their own native trained staff, but this takes some years to set up. I met one of the high-ups of the charity when I was on a climbing expedition last year in Kenya, and he said there was a new hospital being set up in Peru, there could be a job for me there. The work would be interesting, and there would be chance to do more climbing—some of the peaks there haven’t yet been visited by Europeans. He told me that he’d been attacked by a condor when he was on a peak there, imagine that: a bird with a ten-foot wingspan! Wouldn’t that be something?’
Lyn shivered. She had met this kind of enthusiasm before, and she didn’t like it. It could be dangerous.
‘I’d rather be an SR or a consultant in London,’ she said.
He looked at her, amazed. ‘I thought the idea would really grip you. I thought we were soulmates.’
She had to tell him, clearly and finally. ‘No. I’ve seen enough of the rough side of South America to last me a lifetime.’
‘But…’
‘I’m a city girl. I’m quite happy to stay in London for the rest of my life, only leaving when I can be sure of a warm bed in a comfortable hotel.’
‘Hmm.’ She could tell he was having difficulty in coming to terms with this, but he went on, ‘I’ve read your parents’ book about travelling the highlands of Peru. I was hoping to meet them; they might be able to give me a couple of ideas about the place.’
‘I’m sure they’d love to meet and talk to you,’ she told him, and knew that it was true. ‘I’ll set it up as soon as they’re home again; we can go down for the day.’
‘But you’re not an outdoors girl yourself?
‘Not any more.’ Gloomily she decided that she might as well tell him the rest of her doubts. ‘And I think your skills would be wasted in the highlands of Peru. I’ve been there. South America needs a large number of locally recruited village doctors, not a handful of highly trained European specialists like you.’
‘So the poor peasants aren’t entitled to the best care?’ For the first time since she’d met him, she thought she detected a touch of bad temper.
‘That’s not the point. You’re a highly skilled paediatric neurologist, you see patients referred to you from all over the country, and even all over the world. To do your job properly you need a state-of-the-art hospital, with specialist operating theatres, laboratories, carefully trained nurses, and ancillary staff. In the highlands of Peru you’d have none of that. No matter what knowledge you had, you’d be little better than a doctor fresh out of college.’
‘I think more than just a little better,’ he suggested. ‘I think I have skills in diagnosis that take quite some years to develop.’
She nodded, to acknowledge that this was true. ‘But most of your work in Peru would be taken up with the simpler kinds of medicine. Lord knows, there’s a need for it and I’m sure it could be very satisfying. But your unique skills are needed here. They would not—they could not—be used in Peru.’
‘You argue well, young Dr Webster,’ he said with a sudden smile, and she wondered what she was doing, possibly antagonising this man. When he smiled, and those blue eyes stared straight at her, she would agree to whatever he suggested. But…
‘No matter what I say, you’re still going to go, aren’t you?’ she asked.
‘Probably. I agree with much of what you say. But I want—if only for a few years—to get out of England. I need to wander. I’m sure your parents would sympathise—I’m surprised you don’t.’
She sighed. ‘My parents would sympathise, all right. I’ll certainly arrange for you to meet them, you’ll get on together so well.’
‘What if it’s the daughter I want to get on with?’
‘I’m looking forward to working with you,’ she said demurely. ‘I hope to learn a lot.’
‘I hope to teach you a lot,’ he replied, and she blushed as she saw his grin. He went on, ‘We only have time for an hour now, and that’s nearly over. But I want to see more of you, out of the hospital. Could we have dinner together some time this week?’
She wanted so much to say yes. But she knew it could only ultimately lead to disaster. Better a small pain now than absolute heartache in time.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we should keep things between us largely professional.’
He frowned. ‘Save me making a fool of myself. Are you seeing anyone now—are you in any kind of relationship?
It would be so easy to lie. She suspected that he was an honourable man, and if she said that yes, she was in love, she felt that he would bother her no more. But she couldn’t deceive him that way. ‘No. As they say, I’m footloose and fancy free. All I
want to do is study.’
‘You don’t seem very footloose to me,’ he said sourly. ‘Lyn, I felt that something happened between us this morning. I don’t know what it was, because it’s never happened to me in my life before. Are you telling me that you didn’t feel the same?’
Once again, the easiest thing to do would be to lie, and once again she couldn’t do so. She had never backed down from a fight, a hard decision. ‘I felt it,’ she agreed. ‘It was just hormones, Ross, we’ll both get over it.’
‘Hormones? And I thought you might be a romantic young woman. Anyway, what’s wrong with doing what our hormones suggest? As a doctor you should know that they were given us with a very definite purpose.’
‘As a doctor you should know that the brain controls the actions of the hormones. And on this occasion my brain tells me not to do what my feelings might want me to. Sorry, Ross.’
She had wondered if he might be angered by such a firm refusal. But instead there was a thoughtful gleam in his blue eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m not getting all the story?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Our hour’s up, Lyn. I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes, I must go.’
She rose as he did. ‘I’ve enjoyed our talk. I think we’ve settled a couple of things.’
‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you too. We might have settled some things but we’ve also raised one or two more questions. Shall I walk you back to the hospital?’
‘No, I’ll take a taxi from here.’ Providentially, as she spoke one came down the street towards them and she waved it down. He held the door for her as she climbed in. ‘Thanks for a pleasant drink, Ross.’
‘Till the next time,’ he said, and shut the door. She wondered what he meant by that.
It was only a short journey back to her flat, which was a good thing. She needed to start work on something, not be alone with her thoughts. Ross was an attractive man, a very attractive man. But he wasn’t her sort. She couldn’t go out with someone like Ross. Never again.
Second Lover Page 3