Kitabı oku: «The Doctor's Christmas Gift», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

‘HI, THERE! I’ve made coffee and there’s some sandwiches if you’re hungry.’

It was twelve thirty-two, precisely. Catherine had checked her watch enough times to know that without having to check it again. The whole time she had been working through the rest of her morning list she had been conscious of the minutes ticking away and bringing the moment for her meeting with Matt ever closer. Maybe it was ridiculous to have got herself so worked up, but she hadn’t been able to help it. It certainly didn’t settle her mind to see the coffee-mugs and plates of sandwiches arranged on the table either. Was this really a work-related meeting, as he’d claimed?

‘Sit yourself down. It’s just milk, isn’t it? You don’t take sugar?’ Matthew picked up the coffee-pot and brought it over to the table. He put it down on a mat and frowned when he realised she was still standing in the doorway. ‘Catherine?’

‘I…um. No.’ She saw his brows arch and hurriedly tried to get a grip on herself. She wasn’t helping the situation by acting like a halfwit.

‘No, I don’t take sugar,’ she explained as much for her own benefit as for his. Keep things simple, Catherine! she chided herself. Stick to the rules. Rule number one was to always maintain her composure. Rule number two was never to mix work with pleasure. Rule number three…

She sighed because there was no point going any further. Rule number three—always to be on her guard—was proving as difficult to adhere to as numbers one and two. Matthew seemed to have a particular knack of sliding past her defences!

She pulled out a chair while Matt filled the mugs with coffee. He shoved the plate of sandwiches towards her then sat down opposite her. ‘Try one of these. You won’t be disappointed, I promise you. Mum makes the best sandwiches ever.’

Catherine took a sandwich simply because it was easier to comply than refuse. She bit into the moist brown bread and gave a little sigh of pleasure as the flavour of perfectly cooked roast beef and grainy mustard rioted around her taste buds.

‘Told you, didn’t I?’

The smugness in his voice made her smile despite herself.

‘Yes, you did, so you can stop crowing. I don’t suppose your mother would like a job? My cooking leaves an awful lot to be desired!’

‘No way! You are not poaching her off me. Oh, I might agree to share her on the odd occasion but I saw her first, so hands off.’ He took a swallow of his coffee then looked enquiringly at her. ‘Anyway, haven’t you a mother of your own who will take pity on you?’

‘No.’ Catherine picked up her mug and drank a little of the excellent coffee, using the few seconds it took to remove all expression from her face. ‘She died when I was a teenager.’

‘Oh, hell! I’m sorry, Catherine.’ He reached over the table and squeezed her fingers. ‘Me and my big mouth, eh?’

‘You weren’t to know.’

She eased her hand out of his grasp and picked up her sandwich again but there was a lump the size of Everest in her throat. It was strange because she had thought she had got over the pain of her mother’s death a long time ago, but it was as though Matt’s sympathy had released all the pent-up emotion. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to cry and hated the thought of him seeing her howling like a baby.

‘It must have been hard for you. How old were you when she died?’

His tone was neither overly sympathetic nor totally uncaring this time and Catherine felt her emotions subside to a more manageable level. ‘Fifteen. She was killed in a road traffic accident on her way home from work. She was knocked down by a bus while crossing the road.’

‘I see. So what happened to you afterwards? Did your father take care of you?’

‘No. My parents had divorced a couple of years before the accident happened. My father had moved to California and we’d lost touch,’ she explained flatly. She’d had years to come to terms with her father’s rejection and it no longer hurt as it had done once upon a time. She shrugged when Matt’s expression darkened.

‘These things happen, Matt. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, as there was no one else to look after me I was put into care and I stayed there until I went to med school. The rest, as they say, is history.’

‘So they do, but the trouble with history is that an awful lot gets lost along the way. We remember the key events but so often it’s the small, seemingly insignificant moments which have made the biggest impact on us.’

His tone was light enough to be taken as a general observation but Catherine couldn’t help wondering if he had realised that she’d left out an awful lot. The idea was far too disturbing so she decided right there and then that she should change the subject. After all, this meeting hadn’t been arranged to delve into her past. Matt had said that he needed her advice so maybe it was time she reminded him of that.

‘Anyway, enough of all that. Let’s get back to what I wanted to speak to you about.’

In the event it was Matt who set the conversation back on track and she couldn’t help feeling irritated at being forestalled. It was galling to feel as though she had no control over what was happening even though he had only done what she’d been intending to do.

‘And that was?’ she asked coolly.

‘David Marshall. He’s the patient with motor neurone disease I was called out to see the night you came for your interview, if you remember.’

His tone was bland enough yet she knew without the shadow of a doubt that he had picked up on her irritation. How did he do that? she wondered in dismay. How could he read her mind with such apparent ease? She had no idea but it was disturbing to know that he was so receptive to her mood.

‘Of course I remember,’ she replied curtly. ‘You were discussing him on the phone with Glenda.’

She realised her mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth. Matt had had no idea that she’d overheard his conversation that night but would he remember what he’d said about her? Her nerves tightened as she waited for him to answer, but he gave no sign that he was disconcerted by the comment.

‘That’s right. Both Glenda and I have treated David since he first became ill. We find that it helps him to see different people. He’s become increasingly housebound in the last couple of years and misses the contact with the outside world. We alternate our visits so that he gets a bit of variety, so to speak.’

‘It must be very difficult for him,’ Catherine observed, relieved that he hadn’t noticed her slip. ‘It’s such a cruel illness, especially in its later stages. Those people who suffer from it retain their full mental powers and awareness yet they are locked into a body which won’t obey even the most basic commands.’

‘Unfortunately, David is fast reaching that point. Until fairly recently he had some mobility and the characteristic muscle tremors weren’t too bad. However, the disease seems to have put on a spurt of late and he’s now in a wheelchair. It’s been a bitter blow for him because he was always so active. He was a rugby player when he was younger, and played for England several times. He also ran his own software company, which was extremely successful.’

‘How sad. I take it that he has help—physiotherapy, nursing care, maybe a wife or family who look after him?’

Matt sighed. ‘We’ve managed to get him nursing care and physio, but that’s basically it, I’m afraid. He was married but he and his wife got divorced when he first became ill. She couldn’t cope with the thought of him becoming disabled, apparently. That’s why Glenda and I tend to see him a bit more often than is strictly necessary. There’s very little we can do but…’

‘But you try to keep up his spirits by visiting him?’ Catherine finished for him.

He laughed. ‘How did you guess? But you’re right, of course. The problem is that David hates the idea of anyone feeling sorry for him. He’d be mortified if he discovered that we don’t need to visit him so often. We have to be very careful and do all sorts of medical procedures as a cover. I don’t think we have another patient on our books who has his blood pressure taken so many times a month!’

‘You should be working for MI5!’ Catherine declared. ‘Between sneaking about when Margaret isn’t looking and undertaking clandestine visits to patients, you’re absolutely wasted as a GP.’

‘I suppose I should get myself one of those trenchcoats and a trilby hat. I need the right clothes to play the part properly, don’t I?’ Matthew rolled his eyes when she laughed. ‘The mind boggles, doesn’t it? But leaving all that aside, what I was wondering, Cathy, was whether you’d be willing to help by standing in for Glenda while you’re working here.’

‘Of course,’ she replied immediately because she didn’t want to dwell on how it made her feel to hear him use the diminutive of her name.

She took a deep breath because she couldn’t stop herself thinking about it. She couldn’t stop herself feeling it, in fact. Ripples of warmth seemed to be floating across the surface of her mind, like clouds across a summer sky. Her father had called her Cathy as a child but nobody else had ever done so, mainly because she had discouraged them from using it. The diminutive had always seemed too familiar so that the few times her classmates in med school had used it, she had asked them not to. It was strange because it didn’t feel wrong to hear Matt using it now. Admittedly, it had generated all sorts of feelings but it didn’t feel wrong…

‘Is that a problem?’

She started when she realised that she hadn’t heard a word that he’d said. ‘Pardon?’

There was a huskiness in her voice which she had never heard in it before. She noticed it immediately but so, too, did Matt. Catherine felt her heart race when he suddenly got up from the table. He went to the sink and turned on the tap, keeping his back towards her so that she couldn’t see his expression. And when he spoke his voice was even huskier than hers had been so that she shivered when she felt the uneven timbre strumming along her nerves.

‘I was just saying that Glenda and I usually visit David outside working hours.’

He turned off the tap and she saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath. Catherine had no idea what he was hoping to achieve by it but it definitely didn’t do anything for her dilemma. Witnessing the struggle Matt was having to stay focused certainly didn’t ease her mind.

‘I know it’s an imposition to ask you to see a patient in your free time so just say if you don’t want to do it, Cath…’

‘It’s fine. Really!’ She gave the most inane laugh ever but it was better than hearing Matt call her by that seductive little name again. Pushing back her chair, she hastily got to her feet. ‘I don’t mind in the least going to see him out of surgery hours, really I don’t.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

Matt had himself under control again and she felt her knees go weak with relief when he turned and she saw that his face held nothing more than approval. ‘David is down for a visit tomorrow afternoon, as it happens. We usually pop in to see him on our free afternoons as it’s easier that way. I like to be at home with the children of an evening. It’s hard to find enough time to spend with them as it is.’

‘It must be,’ she agreed, as though bringing up a family was something she knew all about. Quite frankly, she couldn’t begin to imagine how hectic his life must be, taking care of his daughters, being, in effect, both mother and father to them. It should have made her see how lucky she was to have only herself to worry about and yet for some reason she didn’t feel lucky when she thought about it. There was no one for her to go home to after work, nobody to worry about or who would worry about her—nobody to love.

She blinked and her mind miraculously cleared. What on earth was she thinking? She liked her life exactly the way it was and having a family wasn’t something she had ever planned on doing!

‘It isn’t a problem,’ she said firmly, relieved to be back on familiar ground. ‘You can put me down for a visit tomorrow afternoon, if you like.’

‘Great! That’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you. I had visions of having to forfeit my afternoons off for the next twelve months. It would have been a nightmare because I can barely find the time to fit everything in as it is.’ He grimaced. ‘Heaven knows how I’m going to cope when Mum goes to Canada. It doesn’t bear thinking about!’

‘Canada!’ Catherine exclaimed. ‘Good heavens, when is she planning on going there?’

‘The middle of December. My sister, Cheryl, is expecting her first baby, you see, so Mum is going to stay with her until after Christmas. It’s taken me ages to persuade Mum that she should go but I know how much she wants to be with Cheryl. It isn’t fair that she should miss out because she feels she should stay here to help me look after the girls.’

‘How will you manage without her, though? Surely it won’t be easy, looking after the children as well as working?’ Catherine queried, thinking what a massive understatement that was. Just thinking about the logistics of caring for a family whilst doing a full-time job filled her with dread.

‘I’ve no idea.’ Matt grinned when she stared at him. ‘I shall just have to muddle through, I suppose. Fortunately, Becky is old enough to look after Hannah for an hour or so when they get home from school, so I shall have to try to be more efficient and get through my evening list on time. It should earn me a few brownie points with Margaret, if nothing else.’

‘Get through your list on time?’ Catherine repeated. ‘I’ll believe that when it happens.’

‘Are you implying that I’m tardy, Dr Lewis?’ he demanded, glowering at her.

‘Not at all. You aren’t tardy, Dr Fielding. You’re downright late!’

She gave him a teasing smile which wavered when she saw the expression on his face. There was laughter there, of course, but along with that there was something else…

She turned away, her heart racing as she tried to come to terms with what she had just witnessed, but it wasn’t easy to deal with the idea that Matt was attracted to her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t true but it was pointless lying after what she’d just seen. Matt regarded her not just as a colleague but as an attractive woman whom he wanted to get to know better. Whilst part of her rejoiced at the idea, another part flatly rejected it.

‘I’d better get sorted out,’ she murmured, conscious of his gaze following as she went to the door. ‘I’ve quite a few house calls to do this afternoon and I don’t want to be late getting back for evening surgery.’

‘Of course not, but don’t work too hard, will you, Cathy?’

Catherine didn’t say anything as she hurriedly left. She went straight to her room and picked up the pile of call slips Margaret had left for her. She needed to check through them so she could put them in order of priority.

The pieces of paper fell from her hands but she didn’t even notice. All she could think about was Matt’s voice when he had said her name just now: Cathy. Maybe the name could be applied to her but it certainly didn’t reflect the person she was or, rather, the one she tried to be. Cathy was the name of the woman she kept hidden away inside her.

That person didn’t need to be in control all the time. She didn’t set boundaries or live by any rules. Cathy didn’t have ambitions or goals to achieve. She was just a warm, caring, loving woman who longed to be loved in return; a woman who would do a job because it was the job she wanted to do; a woman who would love a man because—rightly or wrongly—he was the man she loved.

How Catherine envied that woman. How she feared her because it was the Cathys of this world who found true happiness yet the risks they took to achieve it were just too great. She had always known that she could be either Cathy or Catherine but that she couldn’t be both, and she had made her decision a long time ago which it had to be. Just because Matthew Fielding seemed to possess this power to disturb her, it wasn’t a good enough reason to start having second thoughts.

Catherine picked up the slips of paper. She quickly sorted them into order then left the surgery. It felt good to be back on course once more.

‘Matthew, it’s me, Catherine. Look, I’m sorry to phone you like this but I seem to have a bit of problem.’

Catherine glanced nervously over her shoulder when she heard a noise behind her but it was only a rusty old can being blown along the pavement by the wind. She huddled closer to the wall, wishing that she was safely back at the surgery.

It was almost four o’clock and she had never expected to still be doing house calls at that time of the day, but things hadn’t gone according to plan. A number of the calls she’d made that afternoon had taken far longer than she’d anticipated so that she’d been running late even before she’d arrived at the block of flats on the very edge of their catchment area. In contrast to the more prosperous streets she had driven through that afternoon, this whole area was very run-down. Most of the flats seemed to have been boarded up and there were mounds of rubbish strewn across the street. Although there was nobody about, she couldn’t deny that she felt extremely edgy.

‘What’s wrong?’ Matthew’s voice sharpened in concern and for some reason she found herself relaxing. It was strangely comforting to know that he was worried about her.

‘Would you believe that I’m lost?’ she replied, trying to damp down the warm glow that had flooded through her.

‘I’d find it rather hard, I have to admit.’

He laughed and she had a sudden mental image of him sitting at his desk in his office. His blue eyes would be full of laughter and his mouth would be curled into that wonderful smile which never seemed to be far from his lips…

‘Getting lost doesn’t strike me as something you do very often, Cathy.’

The warmth inside her increased tenfold when he called her by the diminutive again. Catherine fought to control it by focusing on the problem at hand.

‘It isn’t, and I really can’t understand what’s gone wrong this time,’ she said briskly. ‘There’s only one street with this name according to my map. Is it possible that Margaret could have given me the wrong address?’

‘Well, it’s possible, I suppose, although I have to say that it’s highly unlikely. Margaret is a stickler for detail whenever anyone requests a home visit.’ Matt sounded puzzled. ‘Tell me where you are and I’ll check it out.’

‘Thanks.’ Catherine rattled off the name and address that had been written on the call slip.

‘Got it. Hang on a sec while I check the files,’ he instructed. ‘The patient’s name doesn’t seem to ring any bells, I have to confess.’

There was a soft thud as he put the receiver down. Catherine clamped the cellphone against her ear as she waited for him to come back. She wasn’t normally a nervous person but there was something decidedly unsettling about standing in the middle of the deserted street. It was a huge relief when Matt came back on the line a few seconds later.

‘I’ve got the file right here in front of me and the information you have is correct. We have Mrs Grimes listed as living at number forty-two Ansell Heights.’

‘Then I’m not sure what’s happened,’ Catherine admitted, hoping Matt couldn’t tell how nervous she felt. ‘I must have knocked at least a dozen times, but I couldn’t get an answer.’

‘That’s strange. According to our records, Mrs Grimes has lived there for some time. She must be in her seventies now and the last time we saw her at the surgery was just over three years ago. She’s one of Glenda’s patients, which explains why I don’t remember her.’

There was a touch of impatience in his voice but Catherine knew she wasn’t responsible for it. He was annoyed with himself for not being able to recall the patient in question.

‘You can’t remember every patient who’s registered with the practice,’ she pointed out.

‘Hmm, s’pose not.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

How indeed? It was a good question and one she had no intention of answering. ‘A lucky guess,’ she replied shortly, refusing to dwell on how easily she had latched onto his thoughts. ‘Anyway, thanks for checking the address for me. I’ll give it one last shot then call it a day. Maybe Mrs Grimes felt better and went out, forgetting that she’d asked for a home visit.’

‘It’s possible but I think I’ll have a word with Social Services to see if they’ve had any dealings with her recently. I’d hate to think she might be too ill to answer the door.’

‘Good point,’ Catherine agreed. ‘I’ll check back with you if I can’t get a reply this time and we’ll take it from there.’

‘Do that. I’m here if you need me, Cathy. Just give me a call.’

‘I will.’

Catherine sighed as she slipped the phone into her pocket, wondering if she should ask Matt not to keep calling her Cathy. She didn’t want to cause a fuss but it might be better to make her feelings clear. Of course, the other alternative was to ignore it…

Oh, yeah! a small voice jeered. So she could ignore him calling her Cathy, could she?

Her mouth pursed because she really wasn’t used to behaving in this ambivalent fashion. Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated about making her feelings plain so it was galling to find herself debating the issue. What was it about Matt that made even the simplest decision so difficult?

She had no more idea what the answer was to that question than she had to so many others that seemed to have arisen of late so she put it out of her mind as she went back inside the building and made her way to the fourth floor. She rapped on the door and almost leapt out of her skin when a querulous voice answered from inside.

‘Who’s there? What do you want?’

‘It’s Dr Lewis, Mrs Grimes. From Brookdale Surgery.’

‘Lewis? I don’t know any doctor by the name of Lewis. You get away from here. Go on. Leave me alone!’

Catherine frowned when she heard the panic in the old lady’s voice. The poor soul sounded really terrified and she couldn’t understand why she should be so afraid.

‘I’m new at the surgery, which is why you won’t have heard of me. I only started working there on Monday, in fact. I’m replacing Dr Williams while she’s away on leave.’

She carried on in the same reassuring vein when the old lady didn’t reply. ‘There’s really nothing to be frightened about, Mrs Grimes. I just want to check that you’re all right so won’t you, please, open the door?’

Catherine held her breath, hoping that her reassurances would have the desired effect. She heaved a sigh of relief when she heard bolts being drawn before a wrinkled face peered round the door.

‘Are you sure you’re from the surgery? You ain’t one of that other lot, are you?’

‘No.’ Catherine shook her head although she had no idea what the old lady had meant. ‘I’m one of the doctors from Brookdale Surgery. Here’s my identity card.’

She passed the plastic wallet containing her ID through the opening and after a moment the old lady opened the door properly.

‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

‘Thank you.’ Catherine followed the old lady into a cluttered sitting room. Every surface was piled high with old newspapers and magazines and she paused while she tried to find somewhere to put her case. She finally spotted a gap on the end of the dining table and went towards it.

‘Mind you don’t knock anything over!’ Mrs Grimes warned her. ‘My Alfred was most particular about keeping his papers in order, said that he could lay his hand on whatever he wanted, he did.’

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Grimes. I’ll be careful,’ Catherine assured her, thinking that Alfred must have been a genius if he could perform that feat. If there was any kind of filing system to the papers then it certainly wasn’t apparent!

She put her bag down then went and perched on the edge of the settee. ‘Now, would you like to tell me what’s wrong, Mrs Grimes?’

‘This.’ The old lady lifted her skirt to reveal a large area of reddened flesh on her bony thigh.

Catherine frowned in concern. ‘That looks very nasty. How did it happen?’

‘It was my Timmy, you see. He jumped onto my knee when I was having my breakfast and I spilled my cup of tea. Hurt quite a lot it did, which is why I called you.’

‘I’m sure it must have done,’ Catherine agreed, getting up to fetch a pair of gloves from her case. She knelt down beside the old lady and gently examined the scald, which extended from the top of Mrs Grimes’s left thigh almost to her knee. The skin had blistered and some of the blisters had broken and were oozing serum. Catherine frowned when she saw that bits of wool from the old lady’s skirt had stuck to the open wounds. She would need to clean up the whole area before she could dress it.

‘So who’s Timmy, then? Is he your dog?’ she asked hoping to distract the old lady’s attention. Although the scald wasn’t severe enough to warrant hospitalisation, it was bound to be painful.

‘He’s a cat, a big old thing who’s past his sell-by date. A bit like me, in fact!’ Mrs Grimes gave a cackling laugh and Catherine chuckled.

‘Well, he’s a naughty cat if this is an example of the trouble he causes.’

‘That’s as maybe, but I wouldn’t give him up for anything.’ Mrs Grimes’s tone was belligerent all of a sudden. ‘He’s all I’ve got now that my Albert is dead. I know to some folks he’s only a cat but to me he’s family. We didn’t have children, me and Albert—we weren’t blessed that way—but we always had a cat and Timmy is the best one of them all. They won’t make me move from here until they find me some place where I can take my Timmy, and I’ve told them that!’

‘They?’ Catherine repeated. ‘Do you mean the council?’

‘Council. Social Services. They’re all the same to me. It don’t really matter what they call themselves. They come in here, telling me what I can and can’t do, saying that they’re very sorry, Mrs Grimes, but you can’t take your cat with you but at least you’ll have a nice new flat to live in so don’t worry.’ The old lady sucked in an indignant breath. ‘Told them straight, I did—if I can’t take Timmy then I’m going nowhere. I don’t care if I’m the last one left in the whole building because I’m not moving without him!’

Catherine sighed as she put down the tweezers she’d been using. It explained why the old lady was still living in the block of flats when most of the other tenants had left. Mrs Grimes had refused to be parted from her beloved pet.

She got up and went to her case for some Tulle Gras dressings. The dressings were impregnated with antibiotic and would minimise the risk of infection, which was one of the biggest problems associated with this kind of injury. She carefully dressed the old lady’s leg, thinking how wrong it was that someone as vulnerable as this should be treated in such a cavalier fashion.

‘Surely the council could find you a place to live where you could take Timmy? There must be a lot of people like you, who have pets they don’t want to be parted from.’

Mrs Grimes shrugged. ‘That’s what I keep telling them but they take no notice. They seem to think they can push me around because I’m too old to fight them…’ She broke off when a huge ginger-coloured tom-cat appeared. ‘Here he is now. Come on Timmy, darlin’. Come to your mum.’

Catherine laughed when the cat stalked across the room and sat down beside the old lady’s chair. ‘He seems to understand what you say to him, doesn’t he?’

‘Course he does! Understands every word, don’t you, sweetheart? That’s why he’s such good company. Why, if I didn’t have my Timmy to look after then there’d be no reason to get up of a morning. He’s what keeps me going.’

And yet some faceless officials were trying to force the poor soul into giving up the animal. Catherine felt a sudden spurt of anger at such high-handed officialdom. As she cleared up, she found herself wondering if there was anything she could do to help the old lady. Normally, she wouldn’t have dreamt of getting involved with a patient’s housing problems, but Mrs Grimes’s plight had touched her. Maybe a phone call to the local housing office would garner some positive results?

She made a note to contact them the following day although she decided not to mention it to Mrs Grimes in case she raised her hopes unnecessarily. She locked her case and picked it up.

‘Your leg should feel a bit better now, Mrs Grimes, but you’re going to need the dressings changed so I’ll ask Ann Talbot, our practice nurse, to call round to see you.’

‘I’d rather you came, Doctor. I know who you are now so what’s the point in me having to get used to someone else?’ Mrs Grimes glanced at the cat. ‘And Timmy knows you now as well.’

Catherine laughed. ‘In that case, it does seem silly to involve Ann, doesn’t it? Very well, Mrs Grimes, I’ll call round again tomorrow afternoon to check how you are.’

‘I’ll be here, Doctor,’ Mrs Grimes assured her. ‘I don’t get out much nowadays. Most of the time the lift isn’t working and it’s a bit of a struggle up and down all those stairs.’

The old lady started to get up but Catherine shook her head. ‘No, you stay there. I can let myself out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs Grimes. And you, too, Timmy.’

Catherine left the flat and made her way down to the street. It was pitch black outside and she groaned when she realised just how late she was going to be for surgery. The evening rush hour would have started by now and that would add even more time to her journey…

‘Everything OK?’

She whirled round and felt her heart thump when she spotted Matthew leaning against his car. ‘What are you doing here?’