Tempted by the Hot Highland Doc

by Scarlet Wilson

  He was speaking. But she wasn’t really hearing. It was all just noise in her ears.

  ‘This was all looked at—all prepared beforehand.’ She could cut in too. As it went, she didn’t know a single thing about the show’s contracts because she’d had nothing to do with any of this. All she knew was she was on a schedule. She had three days to film enough stuff to get forty-one minutes of usable footage. Much harder than it sounded.

  ‘I’ve been thrown into this. I won’t do anything to compromise my patients, or my position here.’ His voice was jagged and impenetrable. She could see him building a solid wall in front of himself before her very eyes. Her very tired eyes.

  She’d thought he’d looked kind of sexy earlier. If this guy could do a bit of charm, the ladies would love him. But it seemed that charm and Dr Gillespie didn’t go in the same sentence. ‘I’m sure that—’

  He stood up sharply. ‘I won’t move on this.’

  ‘But we only have three days...’

  Gerry gave a little cough. She turned sideways to look at him and he gave an almost invisible shake of his head.

  ‘I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. I suggest you go and check into your accommodation and try and...’ he shot her a glance as if he was struggling to find the right words ‘...rest.’

  He walked over to the door and opened it for them. This time he didn’t even meet her gaze. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  Kristie was feeling kind of dazed. Had she just been dismissed? She wanted to stand and argue with him. Who did this guy think he was? Arrogant so-and-so. She’d travelled twenty hours for this.

  But it was almost as if Gerry read her mind. He grabbed hold of her elbow as he led her back to the car.

  The sky had got darker again as thick grey clouds swept overhead, followed by the obligatory spots of rain.

  She opened the car and slumped into the driver’s seat. Gerry started talking. ‘I can shoot some of the scenery. Get a shot of the exteriors, the roads, the surgery. Maybe we could get someone to show us around the—what did they call it in the file—cottage hospital? I could even get a few shots of the ferry docking and leaving.’

  ‘That will fill about five minutes of film when it’s all edited down,’ she groaned. She leaned forward and banged her head on the steering wheel. ‘Why didn’t I get the museum curator in Cairo? The person who is training to be an astronaut? Why did I have to get the grumpy Scottish doctor?’ She thumped her head again, just to make sure Gerry understood just how frustrated she was.

  ‘Kinda good looking, though,’ he said unexpectedly.

  ‘What?’ She sat back up and shot him a weird look.

  ‘I said, he’s kind of good looking. And that cross demeanour? I think some folks might like it.’

  Kristie shook her head. ‘At this rate the whole first episode will have to be subtitled. Did you hear how fast he talks? And how thick that accent is?’

  Gerry gave a slow appreciative nod as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘He’s practically got Highland warrior stamped on his forehead.’ He twisted towards her and tapped one finger on his chin, looking thoughtful. ‘Hey? What do you think your chances are of getting him in a kilt?’

  It was no use. Her brain was clearly switching off, and Gerry’s was clearly switching on. She just couldn’t function.

  She let out a kind of whimper. ‘Blooming Arran. I need food, a shower and a bed. Tell me you know where our hotel is.’

  Gerry smiled. ‘It’s about a five-minute drive from here. And it’s not a hotel. It’s a cottage. Apparently accommodation can be tricky here. There’re only a few hotels, but some holiday lets. We’ll be lucky if we stay in the same place twice.’

  Kristie put both hands on the steering wheel and started the engine. ‘Just tell me which direction.’ Her head was starting to thump. It was probably the jet-lag and a bit of dehydration. If she couldn’t get something in the can in the next three days she would be toast. Her career was already dangling by a thread. Another failure against her name and Louie would be right—no one would want to work with her.

  She was going to have to try all her Kristie charm on Dr Grump. Because if she didn’t, who knew what could happen next?

  * * *

  They were sitting in his waiting room—again. Patients had already started asking questions. Some were even volunteering to be filmed. Three days of this every month for the next year?

  He’d checked with his union. Apparently the TV contract was standard, and the appendix regarding patient consent was similar to one used by other TV series. As long as consent was granted and paperwork completed, there was no reason for him not to continue.

  Truth was, he’d heard this news one day ago, but still couldn’t bring himself to tell the TV crew. The guy—Gerry—permanently looked as if he could go to sleep at the drop of the hat, whereas his counterpart—Kristie—looked more wound up than the tightest spring.

  Pam, one of the secretaries, stuck her head around the door. She had a sheaf of messages in her hand. ‘Hospital called. X-ray problems again. Mrs McTaggart needs her painkillers upped. John Henderson phoned—sounded terrible—I’ve put him down for a house call, and...’ She paused for a second, giving him a wary look. ‘And I’ve got his permission to take the film crew.’

  Rhuaridh’s head flicked up from the bunch of prescriptions he’d been signing. Pam sighed. She was another member of staff that he’d inherited from his father, meaning she knew him better than most. ‘You did what?’

  Pam never pandered to him. ‘Magda had already gone through all the patient permissions with me. So I’ve started getting them. Now hurry up and take that woman out of my waiting room before she spontaneously combusts.’ Pam spun around and left, not giving him any chance to respond.

  Rhuaridh leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch. Nearly three p.m. He could do this. A few hours today, then all of tomorrow and he wouldn’t have to see them again for another month. He tried to rationalise it in his brain. How bad could this be?

  He pasted his best kind of smile on his face and walked outside.

  * * *

  Finally. He’d finally graced them with his presence.

  There were only so many outdoor shots they could film on Arran—and Gerry had shot them all. Filler time, to use around the actual, proper filming. The thing they didn’t have a single second of.

  For a second yesterday, as they’d sat in the waiting room all day, she’d had half a mind to try and put a secret camera in this guy’s room. It wasn’t that she didn’t know all the unethical issues with this, it was just that she was feeling that desperate.

  And after two days of waiting, Rhuaridh Gillespie gave them a half-nod of his head. ‘I’ve checked things out. We need to go to the local hospital. You’ll need to sort out your permissions with the patients when you get there.’

  She refused to let that make her mad. She’d already spent part of the night before meeting the nurse manager in charge at the hospital and sorting out all the paperwork with the long-stay patients.

  She hadn’t let Gerry see that she’d actually been sick outside before they’d entered. She’d been determined that she had to get the first visit to the place over and done with. Once they’d got inside and made the obligatory introductions she’d stuck her hands in her pockets so no one could see them shaking. If she’d had any other choice, she would have walked away from filming inside a hospital. But the fact was, there wasn’t another choice. It was this, or nothing. So she’d pushed all her memories into a box and tried to lock it up tight.

  Once the horrible squirming feeling in her stomach had finally disappeared, she’d decided that distraction was the best technique so she’d spent some time talking with some of the older patients, and had already decided to go back and interview a few of them on camera.

  So by the time they joined Rhuaridh in his black four-by-f
our and he drove down the road to the hospital she felt a bit better prepared and that horrible ominous sensation had diminished a little. The journey only took a few minutes.

  It became pretty clear in the first moments after they entered the hospital that Rhuaridh wasn’t going to give them any chance to prepare, lightwise, soundwise or anything-wise. It was almost as if he was determined to ignore them.

  Gerry murmured, ‘I can work around him.’

  Kristie straightened her spine. If she didn’t start to get some decent filming soon she could kiss her career goodbye. But there was a little fire of anger burning down inside her. She didn’t let people ignore her. And she’d checked the contract, she knew exactly what Dr Gillespie was getting in return for doing this. He owed her three days of filming every month, and if this guy didn’t start to deliver, she wouldn’t hesitate to remind him.

  But Kristie knew, at least for now, she should try and ease him into this filming. Maybe the guy was nervous. Maybe he was shy. Or maybe the guy was just a jerk. Part of her was mad. Did he have any idea how hard she was finding this? Obviously not. But whatever it was that was eating him, she had less than a day and a half to find out.

  ‘So, Dr Gillespie, can you tell me about the first patient we’ll be seeing?’

  She could see the muscles under his white shirt tense. The ones around the base of his neck were particularly prominent. She nodded to Gerry to keep filming as Rhuaridh muttered a few unintelligible words.

  ‘To the camera, Dr Gillespie,’ she said smoothly.

  He blinked and turned towards her just as Gerry flicked on their extra light. She almost stepped back. Resentment and annoyance seemed to ooze from every pore. For a second she was sure he was going to say no.

  So she moved quickly. ‘In fact, let’s start with introductions. Face the camera, I’ll introduce you, then you can tell the viewers a little about yourself.’ She shot him a look, then added in a quiet voice, ‘And don’t mumble.’

  She would never normally do things like this. Usually she would go over all the introductory questions with their subject, check their responses, and make sure everyone was comfortable before they started filming. But the fact was—on this occasion—they just didn’t have the time.

  Before he had a chance to object she turned to the camera and gave her widest smile. ‘Hi, there, folks. It’s Kristie Nelson here, and I’m your host for...’ She realised her mistake almost instantly, but no one watching would notice it. Did this guy know he was going to be called a Hot Highland Doc for the next year? Maybe better to keep some things quiet, this was already an uphill struggle.

  She was smooth. She’d been doing this too long. ‘A Year in the Life of...’ She let her voice tail off and held both hands towards Rhuaridh. ‘Our doctor. And here he is, this is Rhuaridh Gillespie and he works on the Isle of Arran. Dr Gillespie, can you tell us a little bit about your background and the work that you do?’

  Rhuaridh did his best impression of a deer in the headlights. She gave him a little nudge in the ribs and he actually started.

  He stared at the camera. Gerry kept it still while he stuck his head out from behind the viewfinder and mouthed, ‘Go,’ to him.

  Rhuaridh gave the tiniest shudder that Kristie was sure only she could see before he started talking. ‘Yes, hi, thanks. I’m Rhuaridh Gillespie. I grew up on this island—Arran—before leaving to train in Glasgow as a doctor, then I’ve worked in a number of other hospitals, and for Doctors Without Borders. I trained as a GP—a general practitioner—like my father, then came back last year to take over the practice when my father...’ he paused for a split second before quickly finding a word ‘...retired.’

  She was surprised. He was doing better than expected, even though he still looked as though he didn’t want to be there.

  ‘Can you tell the viewers a little about Arran?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s an island,’ he said, as though she’d just asked a ridiculous question.

  She kept the smile firmly in place. ‘Can you tell the viewers a little about the people here, and the hospital? What was it like growing up here?’ The curses shooting across her brain stayed firmly hidden.

  He gave a slow nod as if he finally understood that most people watching wouldn’t have a single clue about Arran. ‘Growing up here was...’ his eyes looked up to the left ‘...fun. Free. Yeah, as a child I had a lot of freedom. Everyone knows everyone in Arran...’ he gave a half-smile ‘...so there’s not much you can get away with. But a normal day was getting on my bike and disappearing into the hillsides with my friends. The lifestyle here is very outdoors.’ He gave a small frown. ‘Not everyone likes that.’

  She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that but didn’t push. ‘And the island?’ she asked again.

  It was almost like his professional face slid back into place. ‘The population is around five thousand people, but in the summer months that can quadruple. We have a small cottage hospital with some long-stay beds and a small A and E department. I share the work in the hospital with the other GP on the island.’

  ‘What happens in an emergency?’ asked Kristie.

  He looked a little uncomfortable. ‘If it’s a real emergency, then we send the patient off the island by air ambulance. In other circumstances we send people by road ambulance on the ferry and on to the local district general hospital.’

  ‘How long does that take?’ She could see a dozen potential stories forming in her head.

  Now he was starting to look annoyed. ‘The ferry takes around an hour. The transfer from Ardrossan—where the ferry docks—and the local hospital takes around thirty minutes.’

  ‘Wow, that could be dangerous.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘Not at all. We assess all our patients and make sure they are fit for the transfer before they are sent.’

  ‘What about people needing surgeries or baby emergencies?’ She knew there was another word for that but just couldn’t think of it.

  ‘Most surgeries are pre-planned and our patients will have made arrangements to go to the mainland. All pregnant women on the island are assessed by both an obstetrician and their midwife. We’ve had a number of planned home deliveries on the island. Any woman who has a history that would give cause for concern for her, or for her baby, has arrangements made for admission to the mainland hospital to ensure the equipment and staff required are there for her delivery. We haven’t had any problems.’

  Dull. This place was sounding decidedly dull. All the good stuff—the interesting stuff—got sent to the mainland. But there were a hundred documentary-style shows that covered A and E departments. How on earth was she going to make this show interesting enough for people to keep watching?

  She licked her lips and turned to the computer on top of Rhuaridh’s case note trolley. ‘So, Dr Gillespie, let’s go back. Can you tell us about the first patient we’ll be seeing?’

  She had to keep this moving. Interesting footage seemed to be slipping through her fingers like grains of sand on the cold beach outside. Please let this get better.

  * * *

  There was not a single thing about this that he liked. Her American accent was beginning to grate on him. ‘Don’t mumble’ she’d had the cheek to say to him. He’d never mumbled in his life. At least, he didn’t think that he had.

  That spotlight had been on him as he’d done the ward round in the cottage hospital. Normally it would have taken half an hour, but her incessant questions had slowed him down more than he’d liked.

  She’d kept stopping and talking in a quiet voice to her cameraman and that had irritated him probably a whole lot more than it should have.

  He was almost chanting the words in his head. One more day. One more day.

  One of the nurses from the ward came and found him. ‘Rhuaridh, there’s been a message left to remind you about your home visit.’

  ‘Darn it.’ Jo
hn Henderson. He still hadn’t managed to drop in on him. He shook his head and grabbed his jacket and case.

  ‘What? Where are you going?’ Kristie wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s a home visit anyway?’

  He stared at the woman standing under his nose who was almost blocking his way to the exit. He felt guilty. He’d meant to visit John before he came here, but this filming thing had distracted him in a way he hadn’t been before.

  He snapped, ‘It’s when you visit someone—at home.’ He couldn’t help the way he said the words. What on earth else could a home visit be?

  Kristie only looked insulted for a few seconds. ‘You actually do that here?’

  Of course. She was from the US. It was a totally different healthcare system. They generally saw a specialist for everything. Doctors like him—general practitioners who occasionally visited sick patients at home—were unheard of.

  ‘Of course.’ He elbowed past her and moved out to his car.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he heard her squeak to her colleague, and within a few seconds he heard their feet thudding behind him.

  He spun around and held up his hand. ‘You can’t come.’

  She tilted her chin upwards obstinately. ‘We can.’ She turned her notes towards him. ‘John Henderson, he’s on the list of patients that granted permission for us to film.’

  Of course. Pam had already put a system in place to keep track of all this.

  He couldn’t really say no—no matter how much he wanted to. He shook his head, resigned to his fate.

  ‘Okay, get in the car but we need to go now.’

  They piled into the back of his car and he set off towards the farm where John Henderson lived.

  It was almost like she didn’t know when to stop talking. Kristie started immediately. ‘So, can you brief us on this patient before we get there?’

  Rhuaridh gritted his teeth. It was late, he was tired. He didn’t want to ‘brief’ them on John Henderson, the elderly farmer with the biggest range of health problems in the world. He was trying to work out how he hadn’t managed to fit John in before the visit to the hospital. He should have. Normally, he would have. But today he’d been—distracted.