‘By the way,’ Jake said, turning to Cara, ‘I rang St Cuth’s and apparently after a CAT scan they discovered Seth had a compression fracture of his thoracic 12 vertebra—he’s lucky not to have any neurological deficit.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Pete, scribbling furiously.
‘It means he wasn’t far off being paralysed—a small piece of one of his vertebrae is lodged very near his spinal cord.’
‘Wow!’ exclaimed the young reporter, impressed. ‘Sounds like you guys did a good job. It can’t have been easy, keeping him still and getting him down to the ground.’
A slight smile crossed Jake’s lips. ‘Dr Mackenzie here did a marvellous job with an improvised brace, and Robbie Tulloch was a wonderful help—without him the helicopter that took Seth to hospital couldn’t have landed.’
‘Well, we can thank you docs for that—I think I can make a good story out of all this!’
Cara suppressed a sudden fit of laughter. It was nothing to the story he’d have got if they’d told him what had happened after the rescue!
Pete looked from one doctor to the other, a hopeful gleam in his eye, and as if he had just read Cara’s thoughts he said, ‘Just on the human interest side, I don’t suppose you two are romantically involved? It would just add a bit of punch to the story if you did happen to be!’
‘We’re professionals who work together in the same practice,’ said Jake frostily. ‘I’m afraid we can’t oblige your readers with personal details! You wanted a story of the rescue—you’ve got it!’ he added tersely.
‘OK! See you soon!’ Completely unabashed, Pete Marbury left the room, giving a cheery wink to Cara as he left.
‘You were a bit hard on that young reporter,’ commented Cara.
‘Cheeky young blighter.’ Jake frowned, gazing after him. ‘I told him all he needed to know.’
‘You didn’t tell him everything, though, did you?’ Cara leant against the desk and folded her arms. ‘Tell me, Jake, have you forgotten the little scenario after Seth was rescued? Did it mean so little to you?’
Jake looked startled. ‘You didn’t want me to tell the whole world?’
‘No, but I thought you might have mentioned it to me this morning—any normal person would at least have made reference to the fact that we enjoyed ourselves last night. Have you got a hang-up about that?’
He looked at her angrily. ‘Of course I haven’t! And, of course, it meant something to me…’
‘I’m not asking for lifelong commitment,’ said Cara. ‘I’m just saying you must be a pretty cold fish to have put it so well to the back of your mind!’
He strode over to her and caught her arm, pulling her towards him, his voice harsh. ‘I’m not one to blab to all and sundry about my private life—and, no, I hadn’t forgotten about it.’ Then his tone softened and his blue eyes became less flinty. ‘The last thing I want is for you to think I’m taking you for granted…far from it.’ His gaze raked over her face, taking in her wide grey eyes and tip-tilted nose, lingering for a second on her parted lips. ‘The truth is, I’ve had time to think about last night, and I don’t want to lead you on, Cara. There’s no use you getting involved with a man like me. It wouldn’t be fair.’
Cara frowned. What did he mean by a man like him? She was convinced he wasn’t a womaniser. He seemed responsible. Just what secret did he have in his background that made him unsuitable for getting involved with and that had made him want to warn her off? She looked at him shrewdly. It probably had nothing to do with him at all. More likely it was because he didn’t want to become involved with a girl like her—someone who had a child and hadn’t bothered to get married! She was sure that deep down Jake had a problem with that—hadn’t he said as much before?
She shrugged. ‘OK, it’s no big deal. We’ll just have to keep off Robbie’s whisky in future!’
He nodded gravely. ‘Best put it behind us, eh? Keep things professional.’ He went out of the room.
Absently Cara drew a heart on the pad in front of her. Keep things professional indeed! He hadn’t worried about that last night! He was a funny, old-fashioned guy, and it was odd how much of himself Jake kept quiet about. Even after five years, her father seemed to know little of his family or background. Well, she thought, unconsciously jutting out her chin with determination, she would find out about Jake’s mysterious background sooner or later!
She stabbed at the keys on the computer and brought up details of her first patient of the day on the screen. She felt in her bones it was going to be a long day. She was bound to come into contact with Jake and how difficult would that be? She pushed the thoughts of awkward encounters with him to the back of her mind and started work.
The afternoon surgery was coming to a close. Cara stretched with relief. Later she’d go to the Ballranoch Leisure Centre and make her first effort at getting fit, which she’d vowed to do the previous night. Her final patient was Megan Forbes, whom she’d last seen on the lawn of her grandparents’ house on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. It seemed as if the whole Forbes family was coming to her for medical advice!
The young girl sat down in front of her, boldly made up with her big blue eyes outlined, with black lines and purple lids. Her lips were a startling vermilion colour and moved vigorously as she chewed a large wad of chewing gum. Her plump little body was squeezed into the shortest miniskirt Cara imagined Ballranoch had ever seen! She looked a different girl to the one Cara had seen at the party. Then she’d been very distressed—now she seemed quite bouncy, almost defiant.
‘I wanted to see you, Doctor, ’cos you…you seemed so nice at hogmanay when we had that awful time. You won’t tell anyone I’ve come, will you?’
‘Of course not,’ said Cara gravely. She smiled kindly at Megan. ‘Are things back to normal now? Did you get into much trouble?’
Megan frowned. ‘Grandma’s hardly mentioned it—she’s been very quiet. Normally she’d throw a real wobbly—it’s my grandfather whose been awful. There’s a real atmosphere because he’s not stopped going on about it and he and Grandma keep shouting at each other. He blames her for making him go out that night and all the trouble it led to.’
She took a deep breath. ‘That’s why I’ve decided to go away for a while. I’ve been living with them because my parents are abroad at the moment, but I’m old enough to live by myself. I want a job—I want to get away from Ballranoch!’
A sentiment that rang close to home, thought Cara a shade sadly. ‘What do you want to do—and where do you want to do it?’
‘I’m going to be a model,’ explained Megan. ‘I’ve read loads of magazine articles, and that’s what I’ve decided I’ll be.’
‘But, Megan,’ said Cara in dismay, ‘surely you have to have training—and I see from your notes you’re barely sixteen. Your grandparents won’t be too happy that you want to leave home.’
Wryly she reflected that Margery Forbes was going to have more to worry about than her husband finding out about her affair if her granddaughter disappeared!
Megan shook her head impatiently. ‘They won’t mind. I’m just a nuisance and responsibility to them—they’re always saying how worried they are about me!’
‘Now, that’s not right. They love you very much, I’m sure. Please, talk it over with them before you make any rash decisions.’
‘I may do…but I don’t see how they can complain. After all, my grandmother did modelling—she’s always on about it.’ She shrugged as if dismissing further discussion on the matter.
‘I see,’ sighed Cara. ‘Is there anything else?’
Megan nodded. ‘The thing is, I wonder if you’d look at my back? I’ve got these horrible moles all over the place, and if I’m going to be a model I can’t have any blemishes. I’ve read that moles can become cancerous—especially if you sunbathe a lot.’
Cara nodded. ‘It’s true that the incidence of skin cancer has increased. I don’t know if it’s because people sunbathe more, or if the sun’s rays are
hotter! Let me look at them under a strong light.’
Megan took off her top, and Cara looked at the three moles on her upper back through a magnifying glass. After examining them carefully, she put the glass away. ‘I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about, Megan,’ she said. ‘To me, one looks like a seborrhoeic wart, and the other two like benign skin growths, little skin tags really—all of them harmless.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Megan, looking immensely relieved.
‘Pretty sure, but because of the increase in skin cancer generally and to ease our minds, I think it’s best we remove them and send them away for biopsy—that’s a careful examination under a microscope just to see their composition.’
‘Would there be a scar? If I’m going to do photographic work I mustn’t have marks on my back.’
‘Only very faint, and that would go in time—you could easily use make-up to disguise them. I could do them now for you, if you like.’
Megan looked apprehensive. ‘Not in hospital? Won’t it hurt?’
‘Not at all. I’ll anaesthetise your skin with a local anaesthetic, and put a few stitches in when I’ve cut the moles out. You’d have to come back in a few days for the nurse to take out the stitches. I don’t want to use dissolving ones because they can sometimes form thicker scars on the skin’s surface.’
‘OK,’ agreed Megan, transferring her chewing gum to a piece of paper in her pocket.
As Cara carefully cut out the moles she felt a wave of apprehension go over her. Just how many of the girl’s dreams were going to shatter in the cut-throat world of modelling?
‘Where are you thinking of doing your modelling, Megan?’ she asked, putting a temporary protective pad over the little cuts.
‘Oh, London, I think,’ said the girl. ‘That’s where you get all the breaks, you know. I’m going to get my portfolio done soon—lots of photos. Then you send them up to agents or magazines.’ She sounded so confident, as if getting into the modelling business was the easiest thing in the world.
‘But surely it’s best to have training?’
‘Not really—I’ve heard of dozens of people who’ve made it big without any trouble.’
Cara nodded bleakly. She just hoped London would have a happier outcome for poor little Megan than it had for her! ‘Promise me, Megan, that you’ll not do anything without telling your grandparents—after all, they’ve had one shock with the party. Keep on good terms with them, whatever you do!’
Megan smiled, a sudden sweet smile. ‘Don’t worry Dr Mackenzie—I’ll discuss it with them if you like.’
‘Good girl! Come back and see me next week and we’ll take out the stitches—and then perhaps you’ll tell me what you’ve decided.’
As she keyed in Megan’s notes and finished labelling the specimens for analysis, Cara grinned to herself. Who said coming up to Scotland would be dull and slow? The scenario being played out in the Forbeses’ household was a fascinating one, and as for slow—last night’s adventure would last her for some time!
Karen brought in some coffee for her. ‘It’s really snowing hard out there,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’ll be thick by tomorrow and all the skiers will be coming up at the weekend.’
‘Are you a skier, Karen?’ asked Cara, remembering happy days as a child when her father had taken her on the nursery slopes. It had been a sport very much in its infancy in Ballranoch then.
‘Oh, yes, I love it. Perhaps you’d come with me one day? Ian, my husband, helps to run the ski-lift. It’s extra money for him—but, my, it can get very cold up there!’
The phone began ringing in the surgery and Karen ran back to answer it. A few seconds later she came back to Cara looking rather worried.
‘That was the nursery your little boy attends. Apparently, Dan’s had a fall from their little slide and seems to have hurt his arm. He was pretending to be a paraglider.’
Cara stared at Karen in dismay. ‘Oh, no! I told him to wait until he was grownup for that!’
She peered through the blinds of her room at the darkness outside—thick snowflakes were whirling through the air.
‘He would do it when the weather’s at its worst,’ she added gloomily. ‘I’ll go now and see what’s happened. Dan will probably need an X-ray.’
Jake appeared at the doorway. ‘Sorry to butt in, but I just wondered if printouts of any of my e-mails had landed on your desk—I’m waiting for the results of some blood tests and biopsies.’
‘There’s quite a few there that may have got mixed up. I haven’t had time to look at them yet.’
‘I’ll look for you,’ said Karen. ‘Cara’s just heard her little boy’s had an accident at his nursery.’
Jake looked up sharply. ‘It’s snowing heavily. You can’t go on your own—especially in your small car. I’ll take you. I’ve got chains for my wheels if we get stuck.’
‘No, no, thanks, I’ll be quite all right.’ Cara started putting her coat on hastily. The last thing she wanted was to sit in the close confines of a car with Jake Donahue, making polite conversation. ‘It may be that he’s just strained his wrist and needs nothing more than a bandage.’
‘You don’t know until you’ve seen it. Come on, it’s best to take no chances.’
He was right, thought Cara as they went into the car park. The snow was beginning to settle and St Cuthbert’s was a long drive through the hills. For Dan’s sake she ought to accept the lift.
‘I don’t think there’s any doubt about it,’ said Jake, holding Dan’s plump little arm and examining it carefully. ‘Look at the depression on the lower arm. It’s a greenstick fracture—he’ll need an X-ray and plaster.’
Mrs Monkton, the nursery school attendant, looked anxiously at the two doctors. ‘Oh, dear, and we’re so careful here—there’s mats all round the slide. What exactly is a greenstick fracture?’
‘It usually occurs in children when sudden force causes only the outer side of the bent bone to break. It normally heals quickly and successfully.’ Jake looked down at Dan’s pallid complexion. ‘He’s in shock, so the quicker we get him to the hospital the better.’
Cara cuddled the little boy to her. ‘Don’t worry, my lamb. You’ll be better soon. Lots of boys and girls do this sort of thing.’ She gave him a kiss, and turned to the anxious nursery school attendant. ‘We’ll take him right away—and thanks for letting us know immediately.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dr Mackenzie. Do let me know what happens.’
The accident and emergency department at St Cuthbert’s was like most A and E Departments in the evening. A waiting room full of a variety of disconsolate-looking people sat under the eye of an enormous wall-mounted television that kept up a background hum of football commentary. A group of youths in a corner gave loud cackles of laughter, a baby was crying.
‘Does this take you back a few years?’ said Jake with a wry smile as they went to Reception.
‘It certainly does—reminds me how much hard work it was!’ Cara looked down the corridor, seeing staff hurrying between cubicles and porters pushing people on trolleys. ‘You did feel at the centre of things, though—you never knew what was going to turn up next!’
The triage nurse obviously knew Jake. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It looks worse than it is tonight—these are mostly waiting relatives. I think Dan will be seen very soon.’ She smiled kindly at the frightened little boy. ‘We’ll take you through right away for an X-ray and then we’ll put a light plaster on that arm which will stop it hurting.’
The staff nurse who bustled into the cubicle after Dan’s X-ray was plump and motherly. She flicked a switch on the wall and a brightly coloured mobile began to turn round, flashing lights. Dan looked up at it fascinated as he sat on Cara’s knee, his attention diverted.
Nurse Carter smiled. ‘Isn’t that great, Dan?’ Gently she took his arm and, talking pleasantly to Cara and Jake, began to slip a heavy gauze tube on his arm. Dan hardly noticed.
‘As you probably guessed,’ she said,
‘you can see by the concave “dish” where the break is—just a tiny crack on the radius.’
She started to wind the wet plaster bandage round the arm. ‘Now, when this is done, Dan, and quite dry, you’ll be able to have people write lots of messages on it—perhaps draw pictures!’
Dan’s colour had begun to return to his chubby cheeks. He looked up at her with a bright smile. ‘I can show it to my grandpa—he’s in this hospital!’
‘Is he really? Then he can put the first picture on, can’t he?’
Gordon Mackenzie looked up with delighted surprise when Cara, Dan and Jake came into his room.
‘Why, what’s happened to you, young man? Been in the wars?’
‘I’ve been plastered!’ said Dan proudly. ‘Now you’ve got to write on it, Grandpa.’
‘The first one to do so—I am honoured!’
The elderly man wrote down the side of the plaster, ‘To my wonderful grandson from his loving Grandpa.’ Cara felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the words. She had done the right thing to come back to Ballranoch. Her son had found a grandfather to dote on him, and her father had found a new reason to live again.
She flicked a look at the notice on his bed, NIL BY MOUTH, and frowned. ‘You’re not having your bypass tomorrow are you?’
Gordon nodded and smiled drily. ‘That’s why it’s specially good to see you—bucked me up no end! Apparently they think I’m stable enough to take it, and I’ll be delighted to get it out of the way.’
Cara put her hand on her father’s arm. ‘I’ll be back in the morning to see how things are. Will you be able to manage, Jake?’ she asked, looking up at his tall figure leaning against the wall.
‘Of course—no problem.’ He looked fondly at his older colleague. ‘You take it easy now. The practice is in very good hands.’ He paused for a second. ‘Like father, like daughter. Cara’s a great person to work with!’
The Bachelor Doctor Page 8