200 Harley Street: The Enigmatic Surgeon

by Annie Claydon

  ‘It doesn’t make you a bad person, Mercy. A little boy in my son’s class at school has the same thing.’

  ‘He does?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm. The doctors can stop it, though. Dr Edward could stop it.’

  ‘Can you?’ Mercy’s gaze fixed on Edward.

  ‘Yes.’ He wondered whether he should say more and decided not to. Charlotte would fill in any of the details that she thought were necessary.

  ‘We’ll have to do some tests.’

  Apparently a quick wrinkle of the nose was enough to help describe a blood test to rule anything else out, and an EEG which would pick up any unusual electrical activity in Mercy’s brain.

  ‘They’re okay. They don’t hurt.’

  ‘And you can cure it?’

  ‘Of course. If it’s what we think it might be, then it might well just stop all of its own accord when you get a bit older. In the meantime we can stop it.’ Charlotte reached forward, taking Mercy’s hand. ‘But Dr Edward needs to know all about this first, so he can do the right thing.’

  Mercy hesitated. ‘Some people say that this is a bad spirit...’

  ‘No. It’s nothing like that, Mercy. Trust me. Sometimes we just...skip a beat for a few moments.’ Mercy looked unconvinced, and Charlotte tried again. ‘Dr Edward told you that he could make your arm better, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he did, right?’ She waited for Mercy’s nod. ‘Then ask him if this has anything to do with bad spirits.’

  Mercy seemed disinclined to ask a second time, but Edward answered anyway. ‘It’s nothing to do with anything like that, I promise you. It’s an illness, and we can make you well with medicine.’

  Mercy nodded. ‘I do skip a beat sometimes.’

  ‘How often? How many times every day?’ Edward leaned forward.

  ‘Three or four. Sometimes more.’

  Charlotte nodded, as if that was just the right number of times to ‘skip a beat’ every day. ‘And how long has this been happening?’

  Mercy shrugged. ‘Always.’

  ‘Mmm...’ Charlotte seemed to approve of that, too, although Edward couldn’t see its significance. ‘So is it all right if we do the tests, then? Like I said, they won’t hurt.’

  ‘Yes, Nurse Efie.’

  A quick nod of her head and she turned to Edward. ‘Blood test?’

  ‘It’s what I’d do.’ He couldn’t resist teasing her, just a little. ‘Want me to go and fetch a kit for you?’

  She rolled her eyes at him to conceal her smile. ‘No. I’ll go.’

  * * *

  ‘Nurse Efie, eh?’ Edward leaned against the railings of the hospital’s roof garden, the breeze rearranging his hair into the maverick version of his usual clean-cut style. ‘So come on, then. What’s mine?’

  ‘I didn’t ask. You can find out for yourself. Mercy will tell you.’ Charlotte took a sip of her coffee. ‘She really likes you. Says that you’re kind.’

  ‘Does she?’ The idea seemed to surprise him.

  ‘So what’s wrong with being kind?’ She grinned up at him.

  ‘Nothing. I try to be kind. I’m not as good with people as you are, though.’

  ‘I think you underestimate yourself. Didn’t you see her face when you walked into her room this morning?’

  Either Edward didn’t have an answer to that, or he wasn’t sharing. ‘So what made you cotton on to the name thing?’

  ‘The mother of one of my patients told me, years ago. Apparently it’s quite important which day you were born on in some parts of Africa. I just gave her the information about when Isaac was born to see if she’d pick up on it.’

  Edward nodded. ‘I’ll have to find out a bit more about that...’

  ‘Poor old Archie. He’s not going to have his name changed, is he?’

  ‘I don’t think so. It would probably confuse him. Cats are all instinct and not much brain.’ He took another sip of coffee. ‘So I’ve put a call in to the Head of Neurology. Is there anything else I should know? I’m wondering whether there’s any connection between the seizures that Mercy’s been having and the burst eardrum?’

  ‘I don’t think so. We mainly just talked, but Mercy said that after her parents died she lived with an uncle. I think that was when she was beaten, because she said that her aunt made her deaf.’

  Edward shook his head, staring at his coffee. ‘Someone would have had to hit her pretty hard.’

  ‘Yes. But she was having the seizures before then. So hopefully the two things are unconnected and the seizures aren’t a result of brain damage.’

  She looked up at Edward and he blinked quickly. Took a swig of his coffee, and then wiped his eye.

  ‘Something in your eye?’

  ‘No. Yes, probably.’ Whatever it was it seemed to be a source of embarrassment.

  ‘Want me to take a look?’

  ‘I think I’ll manage.’ He took another mouthful of coffee. ‘These kids... We have to do something...’

  Charlotte laid her hand on his arm. Tried not to think about the way the hard muscle flexed at her touch and to convince herself that this was simple reassurance. ‘You are doing something. You’ve given her back the use of her arm. She knows that, and she says that she’s going to exercise every day.’

  ‘It’s not enough.’

  ‘It’s what we can do.’

  If the other nurses at the clinic could see them now. Edward, impassioned and almost weeping over a patient. Charlotte, resorting to reason and logic. It was so unexpected as to be almost bizarre.

  ‘I know.’ He drained his cup and dropped it into hers, scrunching the two together to make a ball, which he lobbed into the nearest recycling bin. ‘I want you there when Mercy has the EEG, to reassure her that no bad spirits are out to get her. I’ll clear it with Leo.’

  ‘Thanks. And thanks for listening.’

  ‘You were right. You’ve done a really good job here today.’

  His praise meant a lot. More than a lot. Everyone at the clinic knew that Edward’s praise had to be earned. Charlotte felt her cheeks flush with pleasure. ‘Thanks. I’d like to just pop in and say goodbye to her before we go. Tell her that I’ll be back soon.’

  He grinned. ‘Do that. Then I’d better be getting you back to the clinic, or Lizzie will have my hide for kidnapping you.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS CLEAR when Leo Hunter telephoned to check whether Edward had anything he’d like to raise at this afternoon’s review meeting that he was not expecting him to attend. Leo knew him well enough to understand that Edward’s pledge to support the new charity arm of the Hunter Clinic was on the level of research, operating procedures and maintaining clinical excellence. It didn’t involve attending meetings which didn’t deal with those goals.

  The usual procedure was that Leo informed him that a meeting was taking place, more as a gesture of courtesy than anything else, and Edward tendered his apologies and read the minutes when they were circulated. That had always worked perfectly.

  ‘You mean you’re considering some research?’ Leo’s voice sounded perplexed.

  ‘No, not really. Well, maybe if something presents itself. I’m just interested in how we can help these kids outside of simply giving them the medical treatment they need.’

  There was a pause and Edward shook the handset of his phone, wondering if the line had suddenly gone dead, before realising that Leo was just taking his time in getting his head around the proposition. Edward’s forte had always been in the operating theatre, making clinical decisions and implementing them. That was his skillset. He usually left community issues to someone else.

  ‘I’ll see you later, then.’ Leo still sounded a bit suspicious. ‘We’ve had to move the time from four o’clock to six, in
order to fit in with the operating schedules.’

  Edward’s heart sank. Six o’clock. He’d been to his share of these meetings, and they were renowned for going on until late into the night. Usually he’d be the last to object, but tonight... Actually, he wasn’t doing anything tonight. But he’d been rather looking forward to doing nothing with Charlotte and Isaac.

  All the same, he’d just asked for this and it seemed grudging to turn it down now. ‘I’m free at six. I’ll see you then.’

  * * *

  Edward got home at ten o’ clock. Isaac was already in bed, and he hadn’t expected to have a meal waiting for him, but within moments of him depositing the armful of papers that he’d brought home onto the hall table Charlotte was calling him into the kitchen

  ‘Is that enough?’ She surveyed the full plate, with three different kinds of salad and a large slice of home-made quiche.

  ‘Are you mad? You obviously don’t have any idea what I usually manage to feed myself when I get home late.’

  His diet was relatively balanced, and usually healthy, but when Edward was busy cooking didn’t figure much in the equation.

  She dismissed his customary eating habits with a small sniff and walked over to the fridge. ‘Would you like some juice? Or there’s some of that sparkling fruit cordial left over.’

  ‘I’ll have a glass of wine, if you’ll join me.’ Edward put his knife and fork down and got to his feet.

  ‘Stay there. I’ll get it.’ She walked to the wine cooler and opened the glass door, her hand hovering over the rows of bottles.

  ‘That one...’ Edward indicated a light, fruity white, and nodded when she pulled it out, holding it up so he could see the label.

  He was beginning to see what his father saw in marriage. Not the meal on the table, or the fact that the lights were on in the house, but just that there was someone there. Someone to share the little things with—eating and drinking. Someone to talk to. Somehow the fact that Isaac was asleep upstairs and Charlotte was relaxing here downstairs gave Edward an immense feeling of well-being.

  ‘I’ve got some treacle tart for afters.’ She took a dish out of the fridge and put it into the oven to warm, then carried the bottle over to the table.

  ‘Mmm. I love treacle tart. I haven’t had it in years. And this quiche is really good, thank you.’

  Edward opened the wine, and poured a glass for her. She took a sip and smiled.

  ‘This is nice.’

  The bottle probably cost more than the whole of the rest of the meal, but Edward wasn’t about to tell her that. You couldn’t buy what made the food so special and the wine so incidental. It was all about the cooking and the care that had gone into the preparation. About the knife and fork set precisely on the table, with a napkin and a glass. The flowers from the garden—just a couple of blooms—in a jug that usually lived under the sink.

  ‘I’ve been stuck in a meeting for hours. It’s good to get home.’

  She raised one eyebrow. ‘Which meeting was that?’

  ‘Oh, one of Leo’s. Reviewing the progress of the charity arm of the clinic.’ Edward wondered whether she’d pick up on the unlikeliness of the whole thing.

  ‘Really?’

  If she had, it looked as if she’d decided not to ask.

  ‘Yes. Leo seemed really pleased. There’s a lot of progress being made.’

  She nodded. ‘So Leo and Ethan are getting on a little better?’ It was an open secret that while the brothers remained professional in their dealings with the staff, they had what was euphemistically termed ‘issues’ with each other.

  ‘Looks like it. Leo was praising Ethan’s work, and Ethan looked genuinely pleased. A little bit surprised, as well.’

  ‘I imagine Ethan felt he had to prove himself when he came back.’ Charlotte was staring speculatively at her wine glass.

  ‘I don’t see why. Ethan’s a superb surgeon.’

  ‘Oh, Edward!’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘It’s not all about how good you are at something. Ethan could be the best surgeon in the world, but he’s still recovering from his injuries. He had to feel that there was an element of pity involved when Leo brought him back into the practice.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose anyone would. I think Ethan’s realised that was never the case, though, and that Leo wanted him back for his medical skills. He was talking about the work that Leo had put into regaining the Hunter Clinic’s reputation as well.’

  ‘Really? That’s good. Sounds as if they’ve got a bit more respect for each other now. So how’s everything else going?’

  ‘There are a lot of possibilities for expanding the charity side of the operation. Community issues to be taken into consideration—’ He broke off as Charlotte hid a smile behind her hand. ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve been engaging in chit-chat about community issues, have you?’

  He didn’t blame her for her amused disbelief—he’d been both disbelieving and slightly amused himself. ‘Well, someone’s got to think about it.’

  ‘And that’s you, all of a sudden?’ She couldn’t disguise the warmth in her eyes.

  ‘Maybe. We’ll see. Anyway, I have some really interesting opportunities in the pipeline, both at the clinic and at the Lighthouse Hospital. And there’s an opportunity for me to join one of the teams visiting Africa for a few weeks. I’d like to hear what you think.’

  He paused, aware that he didn’t usually do this either. Edward made his own decisions about the way his career was going to go, without any reference to anyone else. But suddenly he not only wanted to tell Charlotte, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  ‘That sounds fantastic. I want to hear everything.’

  She pointed at the food in front of him, which had all but completely slipped his mind in his enthusiasm.

  ‘Finish your meal first, though...’

  ‘Yeah. Then I’ll tell you all about it.’

  * * *

  They talked for an hour, and then Charlotte’s rapt attention was overtaken by fatigue. Edward turned to a book, and when he lifted his eyes after only a page she was asleep. He lifted her feet gently up onto the sofa, put a cushion beneath her head, and went back to his reading.

  Calmed by the low sound of her breathing, he let the words on the page fly through his mind, forming pictures and patterns as they went. It was as if her very presence made him more receptive—somehow more creative. The raw excitement of new thoughts, new challenges, reared up and dragged him headlong into the heady world of new possibilities that he so loved.

  A sound penetrated his consciousness. Something outside in the hallway. The kind of thing that he would normally never heed, but which now somehow managed to jar all his instincts and set his nerves onto red alert.

  He rose quietly and went to investigate.

  ‘Hey, buddy. What’s the matter?’

  Isaac was at the front door, clutching Stinky with one hand and trying to pull the door open with the other. He ignored Edward, redoubling his efforts.

  He should probably go and wake Charlotte. But she was sleeping so soundly, so peacefully. He could at least give this a go before he did so. Walking over to Isaac, he went down on one knee beside him.

  ‘You want to go out?’

  Isaac shook his head, giving the door one last tug.

  ‘Ah, I see. You’re just checking that we’re locked up safely for the night. That no one can get in.’

  Isaac nodded, staring at the floor as if he was being hauled up in front of the headmaster in disgrace.

  ‘Right, then. That’s a good idea. Let’s do it together.’ Edward imagined that Isaac probably wanted Charlotte to accompany him, and when the boy curled his arms around his neck he almost jumped back in surprise.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Well, let’s fetch your d
ressing gown, then, so you don’t get cold. And we can have a story afterwards if you’d like.’

  Isaac nodded, and Edward hoisted him up in his arms. Lifting that small weight made him feel stronger than normal. As if he was some kind of superhero who could make things right and conquer all manner of monsters—even the ones in Isaac’s head.

  Surgeon and Dragon-Slayer General. Edward quite liked the sound of that. And if one involved precision instruments, the other involved a large sword which could be brandished flamboyantly when the opportunity arose. There was even a fair maiden, who was currently fast asleep on the sofa, and an apprentice who was also asleep, worn out by a brief but thorough inspection of the locks on all the doors and windows and the first few pages of his favourite bedtime story.

  The last half-hour hadn’t involved scaling any high walls, or actually rescuing anyone, but that was okay. Another time, perhaps, when the fair maiden wasn’t in such immediate need of her beauty sleep.

  Isaac stirred against him, snuggling up tight.

  ‘Let’s get you back to bed, little man.’ Edward whispered the words so as not to disturb the sleeping child, and rose, carrying the boy up to his bed.

  And then, before he had the chance to think about any such thing with Charlotte, he gently shook her awake, turning back to his book as soon as she had bidden him a sleepy goodnight.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT HAD BEEN one hell of a tough week. The meeting with Edward’s father, when the past had reached out, snatching her back into the nightmare that she thought she’d survived. Being afraid all the time, and trying not to show it to anyone.

  One glass of wine with Edward on Friday, after Isaac had gone to bed, and she had fallen asleep on the sofa, waking with a start when she felt his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

  Today she woke to silence. A slow, sleepy climb into wakefulness, cocooned in comfortable forgetfulness. Something was missing, and she groped around in her mind for what it might be. No alarm. No... She sat up straight, propelled by panic. No Isaac, bouncing on her bed, telling her to wake up and get on with the day.