‘Sure,’ Sandy agreed as the phone started ringing. ‘In a minute.’ She picked up the receiver. ‘Good afternoon, St David’s Medical Centre. Sandy speaking.’
Janet sighed. She picked up the bag and tins herself. Why should she be intimidated into trying to hide? This was her territory. If anyone should feel uncomfortably unwelcome, it should be James McFadden. She wasn’t the one who’d thrown their relationship away. She wasn’t the one who’d had a fling with her best friend, got her pregnant and then set up house together hundreds of miles away in London. It wasn’t her that …
The laughter coming from the staffroom suggested that Jamie was feeling anything but unwelcome.
‘So you’ve been with St Davids for about four years, then, Oliver?’ Jamie was asking.
‘That’s right. Janet and I started at about the same time.’ Oliver smiled at Janet who nodded her confirmation of the history. She looked away quickly but Jamie hadn’t taken his gaze off Oliver.
‘And Josh has been here for ten?’
‘And Toni,’ Oliver told him. ‘She started out as the receptionist when the practice was very small. She got promoted to practice manager at the same time Janet and I came here.’
‘Ah.’ The syllable was laced with fresh comprehension. ‘You and Janet were together, then.’
Oliver laughed. ‘Not in that sense, mate.’
Janet plonked the tins of cat food onto the bench. She could feel her cheeks reddening again. What was so funny about that inference? And why should Jamie McFadden sound as though he had only expected her to go somewhere with a man in tow? He was the one who hadn’t been satisfied with a single partner.
‘Oliver is married to Sophie,’ she informed Jamie crisply. ‘Our GP registrar.’
‘But only recently, I understand.’ Jamie’s level gaze informed Janet that she’d had plenty of time to go in and out of a relationship with Oliver Spencer before a preferable model had shown up. The gaze was transferred almost instantly but the message had been clearly relayed. Janet winced at the reminder of how easily they’d always been able to communicate. A glance here—a touch there. It had been all that had been necessary to convey a wealth of information. Almost telepathy. Disturbing. Janet’s hand knocked the tin of cat food she had just put down. It rolled into the sink with a loud clatter.
‘And your senior partner, Josh, is now on honeymoon with your practice manager, Toni.’ There had been no discernible break in Jamie’s observations. Janet picked up the tin. Only telepathy could happen that instantly.
Oliver was laughing again. ‘It must be something in the air around here. You’d better watch out, Jamie.’
Both men were looking at Janet who promptly dropped the tin of jellymeat onto her foot and swore effectively. Thoroughly flustered, she muttered a lame excuse and rushed out of the staffroom. Not before she’d heard Jamie chuckle.
‘Not me, Oliver. I’m totally immune, thank God.’
She could hear the two doctors following her down the hallway. ‘This is Josh’s room, Jamie. It’ll be the one you’ll be using for consultations. Have a look around. I’d better see my first patient but I’ll catch up with you again in a few minutes.’
Janet closed the door of the treatment room behind her. She leaned against it, drawing in a deep breath.
Smoothing the skirt of her uniform against her legs, she noticed that her hands were trembling. She took another deep breath and let it out very slowly. Totally immune, was he? What had happened to the great romance between him and Sharlene? Or was he immune because he was happily married? Janet shuddered. Did she really want to find out?
No. Janet sat down at her small desk and reached for the computer printout. She unhooked the wall phone and placed it beside the list of patient names and phone numbers. Mrs Coombs was first. Her blood test had revealed severe anaemia. Oliver wanted her to come in for a series of iron injections and Janet needed to make the first appointment. She picked up the receiver and then replaced it as she heard a knock on her door. Sandy probably required some assistance.
‘Come in,’ Janet called cheerfully. Poor Sandy had already coped with quite enough today. Janet had no intention of letting her know how disturbed she now felt herself.
The door opened and then closed again. But it wasn’t Sandy now standing close to her desk. It was Jamie McFadden.
‘I get the distinct impression you’re not very pleased to see me,’ Jamie stated without preamble. ‘Maybe it would be better if I didn’t stay.’
‘You have to,’ Janet informed him grimly. ‘We’ve already been let down by one locum. This is a very busy practice. Oliver can’t possibly cope by himself and God knows when the agency would be able to come up with another locum.’
‘He’s not by himself. He has his wife working with him.’
‘Sophie’s a GP registrar. She’s due to fly to Wellington tomorrow to sit her written exams. She’ll be away for two days. She’s also pregnant and suffering from severe morning sickness.’
Jamie’s eyebrows lifted sardonically. ‘You’re right. This is a very busy practice.’
Janet ignored the innuendo. ‘Of course, it’s entirely up to you. It is somewhat of a challenge, I agree.’ Her glance accused him of making a habit of running away from difficult situations. The glance was a test, given unconsciously. Did the telepathy still work both ways?
James McFadden’s mouth tightened. Bingo! Janet felt suddenly calmer, as though a measure of control had landed back in her court.
‘I wouldn’t call it a challenge, exactly,’ Jamie said thoughtfully. His gaze held Janet’s firmly. ‘Maybe we could see it as more of an opportunity. What happened between us would have to be considered ancient history by now. Maybe it’s time to forgive and forget.’ Jamie’s smile was conciliatory.
‘Even ancient history can leave a lasting impact on some people,’ Janet said coolly. She could feel her heart pounding. Another opportunity with Jamie McFadden was the last thing she needed. The last thing she could possibly want. ‘It’s only for six weeks,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m sure we can cope.’
‘But do you want to?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Janet fixed Jamie with a determined stare. ‘I have an immense loyalty to this place and to these people. This is my life now, Jamie, and it’s all I have. I’m not going to let some incident from my past create or add to the difficulties we’re already experiencing.’ Janet wished she could stand up to emphasise her determination, but even at her height of five feet seven she would still have to look a long way up to maintain eye contact with James McFadden. ‘St David’s is in desperate need of a locum GP. They’re very difficult to come by at present and we’ve already lost one. I imagine the agency would tell us we’re very lucky to get you.’
The second knock on the door was more urgent than Jamie’s had been. Sandy looked agitated as she poked her head into the room without waiting for a response.
‘Mrs Neville has just jammed her finger in her car door.’ Sandy sounded alarmingly close to tears again. ‘There’s blood all over the place!’
Janet was on her feet instantly. She grabbed a dressings pack from the cupboard above her head without pausing. She brushed past Jamie McFadden. Mrs Neville was standing beside the reception counter. Her eyes were shut tightly and she was moaning loudly. Her uninjured hand gripped the wrist of the other. A mangled fingertip was bleeding freely onto the counter. Janet covered it with a large gauze pad and put her arm around the groaning woman supportively.
‘Come with me, Mrs Neville. Let’s get you sitting down and see what the damage really is.’
Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Jamie still in the treatment room. He had donned surgical gloves, poured some Betadine into a kidney bowl and opened another pack of dressings.
‘Mrs Neville, is it?’ he queried. His smile was professional. Reassuring. ‘I’m Dr McFadden. Sit down here and show me what you’ve done to that poor finger.’ His glance at Janet a minute later was equally professional. ‘Draw up so
me lignocaine, will you, please, Janet? I think we’ll put a nerve block in while we sort this out.’ He turned back to his patient. ‘It’s pretty painful, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes, Doctor,’ Mrs Neville gasped. ‘I can’t bear to look. Have I … have I cut my finger off?’
‘Och, nothing like that,’ Jamie assured her. ‘You’ve squashed the top a bit, that’s all. We might need to remove the nail and put a stitch or two in the back. Nothing we can’t cope with.’ He looked across at Janet as she held an ampoule upside down, sucking the contents out with a needle and syringe. ‘Is it, Janet?’
‘No, Dr McFadden.’ Janet’s tone was calm as she handed him the dose of local anaesthetic. She held out the empty ampoule as well so he could confirm the medication. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with.’
Mrs Neville looked reassured, happily oblivious to the deeper meaning of the exchange. By the time her finger was cleaned up, stitched and dressed, the middle aged patient was clearly smitten with St David’s latest staff member.
‘We’re becoming a regular United Nations here,’ she told him proudly. ‘The last locum was an Indian lady and now we have you. I do love your accent.’
‘You should be used to a bit of a burr.’ Jamie sounded surprised. ‘I understand Janet’s been here for years.’
‘Oh, but that’s different. And your accent is so much stronger!’
Janet dropped the needles and the scalpel Jamie had used to tidy the edges of the wound into the sharps disposal container. Mrs Neville had been enamoured of Oliver ever since she’d started coming to St David’s. Now her allegiance was clearly being transferred without difficulty. She threw a sidelong glance at the object of Mrs Neville’s admiration in time to catch the cheeky, small-boy grin.
Janet closed her eyes for a split second against a wave of despair. That grin! She saw it a dozen times a day on the faces of her sons. She had always loved it and the two little ratbags knew it was the second best way to get around their mother. The best way, of course, were the cuddles and declarations of love. Worked a treat almost every time—especially if accompanied by that cheeky grin. Did she love the facial expression because she loved her sons so much? Or was it because it had subconsciously linked them to the first great love of her life?
Could she cope? How many more links might become obvious over the next six weeks? How many more reminders could she take about how she had once felt about this man? It was hard enough, listening to his voice. Mrs Neville was right. His accent was much stronger than her own. And could she keep the boys a secret? Janet shuddered at even the thought of that problem and turned back into Jamie’s conversation. He was explaining the difference to their patient as he finished easing the finger stall over the dressing.
‘I was born and raised in Glasgow,’ he told Mrs Neville. ‘Janet lived in Edinburgh for her formative years. That’s a much more civilised place.’ Jamie’s tone suggested that civilisation was not necessarily an attribute. ‘Besides, Janet’s been away from her homeland for years. I only arrived last week.’
‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ Mrs Neville asked coyly. ‘Permanently, that is?’
Jamie laughed, a rich sound that caused Janet’s stomach to fold itself into an even tighter knot. ‘I’m only planning on a working holiday, Mrs Neville. I doubt that permanence is something I’ll even consider.’
Huh! Janet flashed him a meaningful glance. No. Permanence wasn’t something that would be high on Jamie McFadden’s agenda. Love them and leave them. Jobs, countries … women. Jamie had caught the glance. His dark brown eyes narrowed slightly as he acknowledged the disparaging line of Janet’s thoughts. She saw a spark of anger then. Whatever challenge he had also interpreted from her glance was going to be risen to.
‘You had an appointment with Dr Bennett, didn’t you, Mrs Neville?’ Jamie’s attention returned swiftly to his patient. ‘I’m afraid she’s tied up at the hospital for a while. Perhaps it’s something I could help you with?’
Mrs Neville blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no! It was nothing urgent, Dr McFadden. I’ll make another appointment for later in the week.’
Janet pressed her lips together firmly as she emptied the bowl of soiled dressings and swabs into the rubbish container. Mrs Neville had been having increasing trouble with a severe case of haemorrhoids. It had been Janet who’d suggested she see their female GP when she’d heard that the over-the-counter preparations weren’t providing any relief.
‘Come and see me at the same time, then,’ Jamie invited. ‘I’d like to check on that finger.’
Mrs Neville’s gratitude at not being pressed into an explanation was patent. ‘I’ll do that, Dr McFadden. And thank you. Thank you so much! My finger doesn’t hurt at all now.’
‘My pleasure.’ Jamie smiled. ‘You’ll find it gets a wee bit sore when the anaesthetic wears off, though. I’m sure Janet can give you some tablets.’
‘Of course,’ Janet murmured. She smiled at Mrs Neville but the woman’s gaze was still firmly glued to Jamie. Oliver Spencer appeared in the doorway. He didn’t appear to notice Janet either.
‘At work already, Jamie? Fantastic!’ He lowered his voice as Janet selected some painkillers from a nearby cupboard. ‘Could I get you to see another patient? She’s a fifty-four-year-old woman with a case of postherpetic neuralgia. She’s in a lot of pain. She had a dose of shingles three months ago and …’ Oliver’s voice faded as Jamie followed him out.
Janet handed Mrs Neville the packet of tablets. ‘You can take two up to every four hours,’ she instructed. ‘But don’t take any more than that and make sure you keep your finger completely dry. I’ll make an appointment for you to see Sophie on Thursday or Friday.’
‘And Dr McFadden,’ Mrs Neville reminded her firmly. She smiled rather dreamily at Janet. ‘Isn’t he wonderful? You’re so lucky to have found him!’
‘Mmm.’ Janet’s smile was automatic. She could hear an echo of Sharlene’s voice—a bitter memory that hadn’t surfaced for years. ‘Oh, you’re so lucky, Jan,’ her best friend—and room-mate—had sighed. ‘Where did you find him?’
Janet steered Mrs Neville towards the reception counter. ‘Sandy will fix you up,’ she said distractedly. ‘Call me if you have any problems.’
The afternoon settled into a blissful period of calm. Janet found she had time to make her recall appointments as Sandy took phone calls, welcomed new arrivals and sorted out the accounts of those leaving. After the miserable chaos of the morning, Janet couldn’t believe how smoothly the clinic was running. They even had time for a quick afternoon teabreak when Sophie arrived back from the hospital.
‘How is Mr Collins?’ Janet queried, handing Sophie a mug of coffee.
‘Amazingly happy.’ Sophie shook her head wonderingly. ‘I left him sitting up in the coronary care unit, surrounded by monitors and shouting at a poor house surgeon.’
‘What had the house surgeon done?’ Oliver grinned.
‘Nothing. Mr Collins lost his hearing aid somewhere between here and A and E.’
‘At least he can shout,’ Janet observed. ‘I had my doubts there for a while.’
Sophie chuckled. ‘Mr Collins has had an ‘‘out of body’’ experience. I heard all about it at least three times.’
‘What—tunnels and bright lights?’
‘More like kind of musical,’ Sophie said thoughtfully. ‘A full orchestra, he said.’
‘Playing hymns?’
‘No.’ Sophie chuckled again. ‘He said it sounded like the Crusaders’ theme song. What is it? ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’?’
Janet nodded. ‘Vangelis, 1492. The boys have got it on tape and it gets hammered in our house whenever there’s a big rugby game coming up.’
‘Anyway.’ Sophie sat down with a sigh. ‘Mr Collins is alive to tell the tale, thank goodness. I’m exhausted.’ She looked up as Jamie McFadden entered the staffroom. ‘Hi, Jamie!’ Sophie’s face brightened. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello properly. Come and sit dow
n and have a coffee.’
‘Thanks.’ Jamie sat down beside Sophie. ‘I’ll pass on the coffee, though. I only drink tea.’
‘Just like Janet!’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘Must be a Scottish thing.’
‘That’s not all that Jamie and Janet have in common,’ Oliver informed his wife. ‘They knew each other in Glasgow.’
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up.
‘We just worked together in the same hospital.’ Janet placed a cup of tea in front of Jamie. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘What an amazing coincidence,’ Sophie breathed.
Janet frowned. It was indeed. A little too amazing. Had Jamie McFadden found out she was here somehow? Through her sister, perhaps? Liz had been planning a return to the UK at some stage. What else might he know about? Janet swallowed nervously. ‘You don’t take sugar, do you, Jamie?’ she queried politely.
‘I do, actually.’ Jamie’s smile was equally polite. ‘But I’ll get it. You sit down.’ Jamie got to his feet with an easy grace and headed towards the kitchen bench. ‘How did your patient get on, Sophie?’ he asked over his shoulder.
‘He’s doing well. They were discussing the possibility of some angioplasty when I left. Mr Collins was very enthusiastic.’
‘Was he?’ Jamie’s eyebrows rose expressively. ‘Invasive interventional therapy isn’t usually an attractive option.’
Oliver laughed. ‘Our Mr Collins isn’t a usual patient. He has a keen interest in medicine—especially when he can apply it to himself.’
‘Just wait until Josh and Toni hear about this.’ Sophie grinned. ‘We’ll have to take every complaint seriously from now on.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll never feel the same when I hear ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’.’
Jamie looked confused.
‘It’s a rather stirring piece of music which our local rugby team has adopted as a theme song,’ Sophie explained. ‘Everybody in Christchurch—the whole of Canterbury, in fact—recognises it. Mr Collins reckons he heard it during his near-death experience.’
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