Doctor and Son

by Maggie Kingsley

  ‘Annie, the very girl I’m looking for.’ Liz beamed, bouncing into the staffroom. ‘I just happen to have a few tickets left for the St Valentine’s Ball a week on Friday—’

  ‘A few?’ Annie exclaimed, her eyes widening at the bundle Liz had produced from her pocket. ‘Good grief, it’s not exactly the hottest date in town, is it?’

  Liz grimaced. ‘OK, so you’ve rumbled me. These tickets are proving harder to shift than Mrs Gill’s constipation, and I can’t understand it. When we first suggested throwing a ball for Valentine’s Day everybody was all for it, but now…’

  ‘I’ll buy two tickets from you,’ Helen said, extracting her purse from her handbag. ‘Tom and I haven’t been to a dance for ages.’

  A slight flush of colour appeared on Liz’s plump cheeks. ‘I…I understood from your husband that you and he had plans for that night, Dr Fraser.’

  Helen looked puzzled, then her eyes lit up. ‘He’s taking me out, isn’t he? I gave him hell last year because he forgot to send me a card, and this year he’s taking me out as a surprise. Are we going to Stephano’s? Oh, come on, Liz,’ she pressed as the girl looked even more uncomfortable. ‘If it’s somewhere really posh I want to buy a new dress and get my hair done.’

  ‘It’s…well, he’s not actually taking you out, Dr Fraser,’ Liz mumbled. ‘There’s a big European football match being televised that night, and he said he was really looking forward to it.’

  All excitement and enthusiasm disappeared from Helen’s face in an instant, and her voice when she spoke was tight. ‘So I’m going to be stuck in my own sitting room on St Valentine’s Day while he watches a football match, am I? Right. We’ll just see about that.’

  ‘Dr Fraser—’

  She was gone before Liz could stop her, and the girl slumped into one of the staffroom chairs with a groan. ‘Brilliant, Liz—just brilliant. Now Tom isn’t going to be speaking to me until Christmas.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Annie said gently. ‘Look, do you want a coffee? Dr Fraser didn’t drink hers.’

  ‘I’d far rather sell you a couple of these damned tickets. Oh, come on, Annie,’ Liz begged when she shook her head. ‘We’ve hired the function room in the Grosvenor Hotel and at this rate the St Valentine’s Ball is going to consist of ten couples, the band and me.’

  ‘I really can’t—I’m sorry.’

  ‘Hot date for that night, I suppose?’ Liz said gloomily.

  For a second Annie hesitated, but as Gideon already knew she had a child it seemed silly not to say anything.

  ‘A very hot date,’ she said nodding, ‘and he’s blond, blue-eyed and two feet four. It’s my son.’ She chuckled when Liz gazed at her blankly. ‘And as I get to see so little of him nowadays, what with me working all day, I like to spend all my free time with him.’

  ‘Then bring him along to the ball. OK—all right—so it’s a dumb idea,’ Liz declared when Annie laughed, ‘but I’m getting desperate. There’s got to be somebody I can sell these damn tick—’ She sprang to her feet as Rachel Dunwoody passed the staffroom door. ‘Doctor, could I interest you in a ticket for the St Valentine’s Ball?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

  ‘But it’ll be great fun,’ Liz persisted. ‘Lots of people are going—’

  ‘Lots of young couples, you mean. Thanks, Liz, but it’s not really my sort of thing.’

  ‘I’m going on my own,’ Liz exclaimed. ‘And you’re not old, Doctor. Good grief you can’t be any more than thirty-five.’

  ‘I’m twenty-nine, actually,’ Rachel Dunwoody said stiffly.

  ‘And why don’t I just shoot myself—save everybody else the bother?’ Liz wailed as Woody stalked away. ‘How the hell was I supposed to know she was only twenty-nine? With that hairdo, and her manner…’

  ‘Have a biscuit,’ Annie offered, opening the tin. ‘Better yet—take two.’

  Liz did. ‘This ball is going to be a total fiasco.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Annie said encouragingly. ‘In fact, I bet the nearer you get to next Friday the faster those tickets will fly out of your hand.’

  Liz didn’t look convinced. ‘I don’t know why we bother with St Valentine’s Day in the first place,’ she said belligerently. ‘It only causes a lot of heartache if you don’t get a card.’

  Tell me about it, Annie thought, remembering the Valentine’s Day before Jamie was born. She’d been so much in love with Nick, and he hadn’t even sent her a card. Oh, he’d dashed out the next day and bought her a dozen red roses, but it hadn’t been the same.

  ‘Frankly, I’d far rather somebody gave me an occasional bunch of pansies or freesias to show they were thinking of me instead of a card once a year,’ Annie said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of her voice. ‘And now I’d better get back to the ward or I’ll be having my head in my hands.’

  Probably considerably more than her head, she thought with a groan when she walked out of the staffroom to find Gideon standing in the corridor.

  How long had he been there? Hopefully not long. She was entitled to a coffee-break—of course she was—but he might think she’d have been better employed using it to read medical textbooks rather than chatting about St Valentine’s Day.

  ‘Were you looking for me?’ she asked uncertainly.

  He nodded. ‘I want you to have a word with the patient in room 3. She was brought into A and E this morning with suspected appendicitis, but I’ve examined her and I’m pretty certain she’s actually suffering from pelvic inflammatory disease. The problem is, she wants to discharge herself and is point-blank refusing to allow me to schedule her for an exploratory laparoscopy. I’m hoping you might be able to persuade her otherwise.’

  ‘M-me?’ she stammered. ‘But—’

  ‘She’s only eighteen, Annie, and I thought if you talked to her privately—woman to woman…Look, give it your best shot, will you?’ he continued, seeing the misgivings in her face. ‘I’ll wait outside, come in if you get into difficulties, but I really—really—don’t want her to leave.’

  Neither did Annie, but she honestly didn’t see how she could succeed where Gideon had failed. Especially when she saw Louise Harper’s tear-stained but defiant face.

  ‘I’m Annie Hart, Louise,’ she said in what she hoped was her most encouraging voice. ‘Mr Caldwell asked me to have a word with you, and—’

  ‘And I want to go home,’ the girl interrupted. ‘I know my rights. You can’t keep me here—’

  ‘No, we can’t,’ Annie interrupted gently, ‘but I think it might be sensible if you stayed at least for the night with us, don’t you? You’re obviously in a lot of pain—’

  ‘It’ll go away. I’ve had it before, and it always goes away as soon as my periods have finished.’

  ‘But what if it doesn’t go away—what if it’s even more painful next time?’ Annie asked. The girl turned her face to the wall, and Annie pulled a chair forward and sat down beside her bed. ‘Louise, listen to me. I know you’re frightened and upset, but if you do have pelvic inflammatory disease, it isn’t going to disappear simply because you refuse to think about it.’

  ‘I can’t have a sexually transmitted disease—I simply can’t,’ the girl sobbed into her pillow. ‘I don’t sleep around, Doctor. In fact, I’ve only ever made love with two men, and one of those is my current boyfriend. What’s he going to say if he finds out I’ve got a sexually transmitted disease?’

  Many a man had dumped his girlfriend for less, but now wasn’t the time to tell Louise that. Not when her health was at stake.

  ‘Louise, not all PID is caused by a sexually transmitted disease. Some of it is caused by bacteria normally found in your vagina and cervix which for some unknown reason has decided to migrate into your uterus.’

  ‘But most of it is caused by gonorrhoea, and chlamydia, isn’t it?’

  Yes, was the honest answer, but Annie didn’t say it.

  ‘I think the most important thing is to fin
d out if you’ve actually got the infection, don’t you?’ she said instead. ‘And the only way we can do that is to perform a laparoscopy. We have to find out, Louise,’ she continued as another sob came from the bed. ‘If pelvic inflammatory disease isn’t treated, it can irreparably damage your Fallopian tubes and your ovaries so when you want to have a baby, you can’t.’

  For a moment there was complete silence from the bed, then Louise turned her tear-stained face towards her. ‘Would my boyfriend have to know?’

  ‘I think you should tell him, don’t you?’

  ‘He’ll dump me.’

  ‘Not if he truly loves you, he won’t. Look, will you at least stay overnight with us?’ Annie pressed. ‘Think seriously about having the laparoscopy? I’m sure Mr Caldwell could fit you in really quickly.’

  At least she thought he could. She was pretty sure he could.

  ‘It’s not a big operation, Louise,’ she continued when the girl said nothing. ‘The scar on your tummy will be tiny—no more than an inch across—and surely it’s better to know what’s wrong with you rather than simply hoping it will go away.’

  ‘But what if it is PID?’ the girl exclaimed.

  ‘Then we can treat it,’ Annie said firmly. ‘And the quicker we start treating it with antibiotics, the more likely we are to cure it.’

  ‘I…I guess so,’ Louise said hesitantly.

  ‘Then you’ll stay in hospital?’

  Louise bit her lip. ‘OK.’

  Should she push it that little bit more, or settle for what she’d got? Push it, Annie, a little voice whispered, push it.

  ‘And can I tell Mr Caldwell to schedule your laparoscopy for as soon as possible?’

  For a second she wondered if she ought to have settled for what she’d got, then Louise said in a small voice, ‘All right.’

  It was a lot better than all right, Annie thought with relief as she left the room, and Gideon clearly agreed with her.

  ‘Well done.’ He beamed. ‘Very, very well done.’

  ‘I’m just so relieved,’ she admitted. ‘I wondered if perhaps I was pushing my luck, trying to get her to agree to the laparoscopy.’

  ‘I wondered about that, too.’ He nodded, leading the way into his consulting room. ‘But you did it, and I’m very grateful.’

  ‘I didn’t tell her that one in five women who have PID become sterile,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I know I should have…’

  ‘Sufficient unto the day, Annie. We’ll tell her about the possibility of sterility after she’s had the exploratory op. There’s no point in adding more worries to that young lady’s shoulders.’

  ‘Will you be able to do the laparoscopy quickly?’ she asked. ‘I sort of promised, you see.’

  ‘I heard.’ He grinned. ‘And it’s no problem.’ He consulted his operating book. ‘I’m fully booked in Theatre tomorrow, but Friday—I could squeeze her in on Friday. Would you like to assist me? In fact, why don’t you spend the whole morning with me in the operating theatre? It’s high time you got some surgical experience.’

  ‘You mean it?’ she exclaimed with delight, and he nodded.

  ‘It seems only fair, considering at least one of the patients we’ll be operating on wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for you.’ He made a note in his book, then glanced up at her. ‘You’re very good with people. No, you are, Annie,’ he continued, seeing her shake her head. ‘A lot of doctors have the knowledge, the expertise, but that’s not the same as actually caring about people. The caring doctors are the ones patients remember after they’ve been discharged, and you’re one of them.’

  So was he, she thought, and yet she’d been so rude to him last week. Rude and awful when he’d probably only been trying to help. All right, so she hadn’t wanted his help, but…

  ‘I owe you an apology, don’t I?’ she said quickly, before she got cold feet. ‘Last week—when I threw you out of my flat—’

  ‘Annie—’

  ‘No, please, let me finish,’ she insisted. ‘I know it’s not a very great flat, and the landlady is a nightmare, but it took me so long to find it, and…Well, despite all its problems, it’s the first real home I’ve had for me and Jamie.’

  ‘And I stormed in with all the subtlety of a ten-ton truck,’ he sighed. ‘Is your landlady giving you a lot of grief over what I said?’

  ‘No more than usual,’ she lied, not wanting him to feel bad, but he knew she was lying and felt worse.

  ‘Annie, I’m sorry—truly sorry. I know I shouldn’t have interfered, but the trouble is I’m so used to organising things—people, the department, the ward—and if I see something unfair I tend to go in with both guns blazing.’

  ‘I noticed.’ She smiled, and his lips curved ruefully.

  ‘Does that mean I’m forgiven? Please, say it does, because I’d very much like us to be friends. Not because I want to interfere in your life,’ he continued quickly, seeing her blue eyes grow wary. ‘I promise I won’t do that, but just to be there if you ever need help. To be there if you need a friend.’

  She’d like that, too, she realised, and being friends with him wasn’t the same as becoming emotionally involved. Being friends was something she could handle.

  ‘Friends, Gideon,’ she agreed, holding out her hand to him, and his face lit up.

  ‘You remembered my first name at last!’

  She laughed, too, but when his hand enveloped hers all desire to laugh deserted her.

  If they were simply friends, why was her heart quickening the way it was? If they were just friends, why was she suddenly so aware of him?

  And she was aware. Not simply aware that this was a man she could grow to like, but aware of him. His maleness, the warm pressure of his fingers around hers, and the fact that Helen had been right. He was an attractive man.

  OK, so he wasn’t handsome in the way Nick had been handsome, and he didn’t possess half of Nick’s winning charm, but there was something about him.

  Perhaps it was his big broad shoulders which suggested safety, security. Perhaps it was the gentle smile on his lips which said, Trust me, I’ll look after you. Or perhaps—if she was honest with herself—it was because he seemed to have reawakened feelings and needs in her she’d thought—hoped—were long since dead. Whatever it was, it was a potent combination, and every self-preserving instinct she possessed shrieked, Run.

  ‘I…I must go,’ she said, quickly extracting her hand from his, horribly aware that her cheeks must be red. ‘It’s after four, you see, and Jamie—’

  ‘Annie—’

  She’d shot out the door before he could stop her, and he threw his eyes heavenwards with exasperation.

  He’d done it again. He didn’t know how—or what he’d said—but he’d done it again.

  One minute they’d been shaking hands, and she’d been smiling at him—such a lovely smile it had been, too—and the next she’d bolted.

  She’s neurotic, his mind whispered, and he shook his head firmly. Not neurotic, but edgy and nervous, and if he ever got his hands on the man who’d made her like that, he’d…

  Sign himself immediately into a psychiatric ward before he totally lost the plot, he thought ruefully. And he was losing it.

  Good grief, she was only a very new, very junior member of his department, and yet since she’d arrived at the Belfield he seemed to have spent nine-tenths of his time thinking about her.

  Well, of course he did, Gideon told himself. She obviously needed somebody to watch out for her, and what better man than him to do it? Someone who had absolutely no intention of becoming emotionally involved with her. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her as she’d obviously been very badly hurt in the past.

  Perhaps he could buy her something to prove not all men were rats with ulterior motives? Something innocuous and unthreatening that a friend would give. Something like…Flowers. He’d heard her telling Liz how much she liked freesias and pansies, so maybe he could buy her something like that?

  ‘Gideon, I need you t
o check through these statistical sheets with me.’

  ‘Not now, Woody,’ he said, clipping his bleeper to his belt. ‘I have to go out.’

  Rachel Dunwoody looked at him blankly. ‘Out? But—’

  ‘I’ll be forty-five minutes, tops, but right now I have to go out.’

  The florist was busy, but not busy enough, he discovered when one of the salesgirls bore down on him determinedly.

  ‘Can I help you at all, sir?’ she said, just as he picked up a spray of carnations.

  He put the flowers down again quickly. ‘I…um…I’m just looking, thank you.’

  ‘We’ve some lovely red roses, sir,’ the girl persisted. ‘Roses are always very acceptable to that special lady in your life.’

  ‘She’s not special—well, she is, but…’ Oh, lord, but this had been a very bad idea. The last time he’d bought flowers had been for Susan, and to start buying them now…Awkwardly he began backing towards the shop door, but the assistant was made of sterner stuff.

  ‘Is it for her birthday, sir?’ she pressed. ‘An anniversary—the arrival of a new baby?’

  ‘It’s a gift,’ he replied, desperately trying to fight down the tide of colour he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘I was looking for a gift—for a friend.’

  ‘Lilies, then, sir?’ she suggested, picking up some enormous blooms. ‘Lilies are always very popular.’

  ‘Haven’t you got anything smaller? I was thinking more on the lines of some pansies, or maybe freesias.’

  ‘Pansies?’ the girl repeated, clearly marking him down as the biggest cheapskate of all time. ‘I don’t think…’ She paused and to Gideon’s utter mortification shouted across the shop, ‘Sandy, the gentleman’s looking for pansies—have we got any?’

  ‘Look, it doesn’t matter,’ he said, cringing inwardly as every eye in the shop turned towards him. ‘I’ll buy her chocolates instead—’

  ‘You’re in luck, sir,’ Sandy declared, bustling towards them. ‘We’ve got a couple of bunches in stock. How would you like them? In a bouquet—a posy—an arrangement?’ she continued as he gazed at her blankly. ‘To be delivered, or taken with you?’