Kitabı oku: «Healing The Single Dad's Heart / Just Friends To Just Married?»

CHAPTER ONE

ON PAPER, THE journey had seemed so long. But for Joe it had been a blink-and-you’ve-missed-it kind of day. Go and show your little boy a part of the world where you can make some new memories. That was what his mother had said to him as she’d handed him the plane tickets to Vietnam.

She had been right. He’d known she was right. And that she was finally giving him the push he needed.

After that, everything had passed in a blur. Getting all their vaccinations, finishing up at work, packing, handing over his house keys to a letting agency and making sure all his mail was redirected to his mother’s house.

By the time he’d sat down on the plane he had been well and truly ready for a rest. But his stomach had had other ideas. It had fluttered in a weird kind of way. It had been so long since he’d felt excitement about something he almost hadn’t recognised the sensation.

Regan had loved the journey. Between watching movies, eating snacks, sleeping and asking questions he’d been a great travelling companion. And now, as they came in to land at Hanoi airport Regan stared in wonder at the green landscape. ‘It’s just like home!’ he said with a smile.

Joe couldn’t stop the ache in his heart. This whole trip was about moving on. He got that. Inside he was ready—up until now he just hadn’t quite managed to take the steps. But every now and then Regan did something—it could be a wave of his hand or a look in his eye—that reminded him of Esther. He’d never push away the ache that came from knowing she couldn’t see this—couldn’t share this moment and be proud of their son and the bright, brave little boy he was becoming.

Joe leaned over and stared out of the window too. He’d half expected to see a city landscape but it seemed Hanoi landing strips were just as green as Glasgow’s. Maybe this place would be more familiar than he expected.

The airport was filled with a melee of people. Joe held tightly to Regan’s hand as they navigated through passport control and collected their luggage. A guy dressed in a white shirt and casual trousers was leaning against a pillar, holding a piece of paper with their names hastily scrawled in black on it.

Dr Joe Lennox and son

He juggled pulling the cases while still keeping hold of Regan as he gave the guy a nod. Around him a dozen languages were being spoken. He just prayed this guy spoke a little English.

‘Dr Joe?’ the guy asked.

He nodded again. The guy held out his hand. ‘Rudi. I’m your ride to the May Mắn Hospital.’ He grabbed hold of the two cases and started walking quickly to the exit. ‘From Scotland?’ he said over his shoulder.

Joe nodded again and bent to pick up Regan, lengthening his strides to keep up.

‘I know all the football teams. Which is your favourite?’

Joe laughed. It didn’t matter where he went on the planet, Scotland was known for its football and most conversations started off this way.

It didn’t take them long to hit hectic traffic. It seemed the whole world travelled by scooter or motorbike in Hanoi. Regan was tired and tucked in under Joe’s arm, snuggling against his chest.

For the briefest of seconds Joe had a moment of doubt. What if Regan didn’t like it here? He didn’t have his grandparents for reassurance. This was completely different from anything Regan had experienced before. As he brushed his hand over his son’s soft hair, he had a flashback to Esther. Regan shared his mother’s adventurous spirit. No matter what they tried, Regan tended to jump in with both feet. Like most young boys he was fearless. And that made Joe’s heart swell. He didn’t ever want his son to lose that element.

After half an hour Joe couldn’t resist winding down the window in the car to let the sounds and smells of the city surround them. The first thing that struck him was how busy the place was, how packed in everything looked, from people to shops to transport to homes.

Colour was everywhere. They drove by a row of shops with red, blue and yellow awnings, while packed above, almost squashed together, were flats.

One was in pink brick, with a balcony on each level, next door was white, with plants trailing down towards the awning beneath, next was the thinnest block of flats he’d ever seen, its first balcony entirely taken up with a dining table and chairs. Next came a pale blue block, littered with children’s toys, then a flat of unknown colour because green foliage completely covered the roof and the outside walls.

It was like a higgledy-piggledy town constructed from a kid’s set of building blocks, and it was utterly charming. The area in front of the shops was packed with street vendors, food carts, a variety of tourist souvenirs and brightly coloured long-sleeved shirts. A tiny part of the chaos of the stalls reminded him of the Barrowlands back home in Glasgow. He smiled as he wondered if the street vendors here used as colourful language as the guys back home.

The driver pointed out places as they drove into the Ba Dinh district—then into the French quarter. The French Colonial architecture was evident all around them, but as they passed through, it was clear they were moving further away from the more tourist-oriented areas and out towards the suburbs. It was denser here, street vendors everywhere, but poverty was evident at every turn. A little prickle ran down his spine. Again, it reminded him of home. His GP surgery served one of the most deprived areas of Glasgow.

Children were running happily through the streets, and even though they were still in the city, strips of green occasionally showed. The taxi turned down a slightly wider street. The houses were different here, not as packed in as before. These looked like private residences, each with a little more ground around them.

The taxi driver pulled up in front of a large, pale yellow two-storey French colonial-style house that was a little shabby around the edges. There was a sign just above the door: ‘May Mắn Hospital’. The driver turned and smiled, gesturing at the sign and getting out to open the door for them. Joe lifted Regan into his arms and stepped out, letting the close, warm air surround him. ‘Bit of a temperature change from Scotland,’ he said quietly to himself, turning his head from side to side to take in his surroundings.

There were several similar-style buildings. What once must have been residences seemed to have been converted. Two appeared to be restaurants, another a hotel. It was clear that once the houses had been very grand, though now they all looked a bit run-down. Paintwork was a little faded, some shutters on the windows slightly crooked, and most of the houses gave a general air of tiredness. The only thing that seemed bright was the sign above the door: May Mắn Hospital.

The driver collected their cases from the boot and followed him up the steps to the hospital entrance. He walked through the wide double doors and stopped.

A wave of familiarity swept over him. The smell, the buzz—something he hadn’t felt in six months, maybe even longer. Working as a GP wasn’t the same as working in a hospital, and the crazy thing about hospitals the world over was that, in some respects, they were all the same.

It didn’t matter about the facilities, the climate or the time. The smell of disinfectant, the quiet hum of voices and brisk footsteps made him take a deep breath and let the edges of his mouth turn upwards.

He had missed this. No matter how much he tried to pretend he hadn’t. Joe had wanted to be a doctor since he was a kid, and for the last six months…

He swallowed. He’d been working. But he hadn’t been enjoying it. He hadn’t loved the job the way he’d once done.

And even though he knew nothing about this place or these people, this felt right.

There was a noise to his right. ‘Can I help you?’

He turned to see a woman at his side. She’d spoken English to him. She could obviously tell he wasn’t from around here. ‘I’m supposed to meet Nguyen Van Khiem, or Nguyen Van Hoa,’ he said, trying to say the names in the right order. ‘The two doctors that run this place.’

As he spun around to face her, she caught sight of the bundle in his arms. ‘Oh,’ she said, taking a step back in surprise. She blinked then took a breath.

For a second the air was still between them. He could see the surprise on her pretty face. He obviously wasn’t quite what she’d expected. But as his eyes took in her dark hair and eyes, the barest hint of make-up and straight white teeth, he realised that this wasn’t quite what he’d expected either. His mother had told him the hospital was run by an older couple with fifty years of experience between them.

The woman spoke. ‘You must be the new doctor. Khiem and Hoa told me you should arrive today.’ She tilted her head as she tried to catch a look at Regan, who was snuggled into his father’s shoulder. ‘This must be… Regan, isn’t it?’

Now he was intrigued. Who was this woman who’d obviously paid attention to the new arrival?

She was a little shorter than him, with shiny dark brown hair tied back with a clip at her neck. She was wearing a pink shirt and black trousers that showed off her neat waist.

She held out her hand towards him. ‘I’m Lien—one of the other doctors that works here.’ Her smile was broad and reached her dark eyes. He must have been looking at her curiously because she filled in the blanks. ‘Dang Van Lien,’ she said, giving her name in full. ‘But the people around here just call me Dr Lien.’

He gave a nod, trying to familiarise himself with saying the family name first. Her handshake was warm and firm. He liked that. She was still holding his hand while she spoke.

‘Khiem and Hoa have been called away. They’re sorry they couldn’t be here to meet you. Come with me. I guess you’ll want to put the little guy down.’ She reached over and grabbed the handle of both suitcases before he had a chance to stop her and tugged them along behind her.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asked as he followed her down the corridor, wondering if everything was going to stop before it even started. He was surprised the doctors who had employed him weren’t here. ‘Where did they have to go?’

She nodded her head. ‘They’ve had to go to one of the other hospitals. It’s a few hundred kilometres away, and some of the staff have taken ill. They’ll probably be away for the next few weeks.’ For a small woman, she had surprisingly long strides. He didn’t even get a chance to really see the facilities before she’d led him out the back of the building and pointed to one of three smaller houses set in the grounds at the back. She shot him a smile. ‘We’re lucky. Good staff facilities here.’

It seemed that the slightly shabby colonial-style house had been hiding some secrets. The grounds at the back were bigger than he would have expected. He hid a smile, likening it to walking into the Tardis in Dr Who. There were green bushes, some trees and the three individual white houses set just far enough away from each other to give some privacy. Each of the houses had a different coloured front door, one yellow, one blue and one lilac.

She led him over to the house with the blue door, swinging it open and flicking a switch. She picked up the key that was hanging on a hook behind the door. ‘Here you go,’ she said as she handed it over.

A warm glow filled the small space. It was cosy. Nowhere near as big as his house back home. There was a small red sofa in the main room and a table with two chairs, then a neat kitchen set in the back. With a smile Lien showed him the two compact bedrooms, both beds covered with mosquito nets, and bathroom.

It didn’t matter that the space was small. There was something about the furnishings and decor that made it welcoming. He laid Regan carefully down on the white bedspread, ensured the mosquito net was in place, then paused for a second and pulled something from Regan’s small backpack. He didn’t want Regan to wake up with nothing familiar around him.

The picture frame held two pictures of Esther. In one, shortly after delivery, she was pale, holding Regan wrapped in a white blanket, and in the other Esther was much brighter—it was taken a year before her diagnosis with acute myeloid leukaemia and Regan said it was his favourite picture of his mum. In it she was laughing on a beach as her blonde hair blew in her eyes. Joe’s fingers hovered over the photo as he placed it on the bed next to Regan’s head and backed out of the room, leaving the door open.

‘I need a story,’ Regan whispered with his eyes still closed.

Joe looked at the stuffed-full cases and Lien caught his gaze. She gave a little shrug. ‘I have a never-ending stack of stories. Why don’t you let me tell him one while you try to get yourself settled?’

Something inside him twinged. Telling Regan a bedtime story had been part of their bedtime routine for the last four years. He was tired himself, though, his brain not really computing what time of day it was. Fatigue told him that it might be nice for Regan to hear a story that wasn’t one of those he’d repeated time and time again over the years. New stories were in short supply. ‘That’s really kind of you,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem,’ said Lien as she sat at the edge of Regan’s bed and launched into a story about dragons.

Joe was actually sad that Regan was so sleepy. He would relish a story like this. Still, it gave him time to open their cases and find their toiletries and some clothes for the next day, along with their mosquito repellent. Everything else could wait.

Lien appeared next to him just as he was trying to shake the creases out of a shirt. ‘He’s gone,’ she said quietly. ‘I think he was halfway there when I started.’

Lien moved over to the kitchen. ‘Tea?’ she asked, holding up a pair of cups. She opened the fridge and a few cupboards. ‘Don’t worry, Hoa has filled the fridge and cupboards with some staples for you.’

‘She has? That was kind of her.’

Lien gestured to the red sofa. ‘Sit down. You must be tired.’ She gave him a curious look. ‘Scotland? Isn’t it? You’ve come along way.’

Joe relaxed down onto the sofa. It was just as comfortable as it looked. He watched as Lien moved easily around the kitchen, boiling water and preparing the tea. The smell drifting towards him was distinctly floral. This wasn’t the strong black tea he was used to in Scotland.

A few minutes later Lien handed him the steaming cup of pale yellow liquid. He tried to give an unobtrusive sniff. ‘What kind of tea is this?’

She settled next to him, her leg brushing against his jeans. ‘The best kind, jasmine. Haven’t you tried it before?’

It smelled like perfume, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud, so he balanced the cup on his lap and turned a little to face her. ‘Thanks for this. You didn’t need to.’

‘I did.’ She grinned, eyes glinting as she sipped her own tea. ‘It’s bribery. I’m just trying to make sure you’ll be fit to work tomorrow. The jasmine tea should relax you a little, and hopefully you’ll get some sleep and your body clock will adjust.’

He nodded. ‘Ah, bribery. Now I understand.’

She gestured with her hand to the window in front of them. It looked back over to the main building. ‘Tomorrow will be busy, a baptism of fire.’ She pulled a face and gave a shrug. ‘There’s some kind of norovirus bug out there right now. We’re getting lots of dehydrated kids and adults.’

Joe shuddered. ‘Norovirus. Perfect.’

He waited a second then gave her another curious look. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘All my life,’ she replied simply. ‘Born and brought up in Hanoi. Trained here, then spent a year in Washington and another in Dublin.’ She gave him a smile. ‘I wanted to see the world.’

‘But you came back?’

She hesitated for a second. ‘Of course. I trained with Duc. He’s Khiem and Hoa’s son. This local hospital has been here since I was kid. They opened it with some money they inherited, and have kept it running ever since.’

‘The government doesn’t pay?’

She pulled a face. ‘They make a contribution. Hanoi has a population of over six million…’ she let out a laugh ‘…with nearly as many motorbikes. The government is trying to get a handle on our health system, but it’s nowhere near as robust as the system in the UK. In most circumstances, you still have to pay to see a doctor in Vietnam.’

‘And can the people around here pay?’

She shook her head and held out both hands. ‘That’s why we’re here. We offer free healthcare to anyone who attends. Immunisations for kids. Prenatal health care for mothers. And anything else too.’

Now he’d sat down he realised his bones were actually aching, along with every muscle in his shoulders. Travelling did that to you. The aroma from the tea was strong, vibrant. He took a sip of the hot liquid and tried to let his taste buds acclimatise. He was conscious of the fact that Lien’s dark eyes were watching him carefully.

He held up the cup. ‘Not too bad.’

She shot him a suspicious glance. ‘Well, get used to it. Jasmine tea and iced coffee are the norm around here.’

He lifted one hand to give his tired eyes a rub. ‘Your English is great. I’m a bit worried about tomorrow. Let’s just say I’m not entirely fluent in Vietnamese. I’ve learned a few words, but I couldn’t hold a proper conversation.’

She shook her head and waved a hand. ‘Don’t worry. We have a full-time interpreter in the hospital. She’ll normally be around to help you. A number of our nurses are bilingual too. You should manage fine.’

She nodded towards the bedroom. ‘Have you made arrangements for your son?’

He glanced to the little sleeping figure on the bed. ‘Yes, I’ve registered him at the international school just a few streets over. Khiem had sent me details about it. I’ve to take him there tomorrow—just before eight.’

‘Perfect, it has a good reputation. I’m sure he’ll like it.’

She paused once more. ‘Khiem said you’re here for six months.’

It was a statement, but she said the words like a question. He tried not to let his doubt show on his face. ‘That’s how long I’ve taken time off work back home. We needed…’ he hesitated, trying to find the right words ‘…a change of scene. Regan is due to start school back home in six months, so I plan on taking him back for that.’ He looked around, realising he hadn’t set eyes on any other staff members. ‘Does Khiem and Hoa’s son work here too?’

Lien laughed. ‘Not if he can help it. No, Duc has been lured to the dark side.’ She said the words with good humour.

‘What do you mean?’

She gave a small shrug. ‘He’s still doing his round-the-world tour. Getting experience wherever he can. He’s a surgeon. This place wouldn’t be for him.’

Now Joe was curious at the first part of her answer. ‘You said you did the same.’

She put her hand to her chest. ‘I just went to two places. That was enough. Got the experience I needed then brought it back here.’

There was something about the way she said those words. He got the impression she was either slightly exasperated by her friend’s continued travels, or that she didn’t quite approve, but was far too polite to say those words out loud.

‘You always wanted to work back here?’

She met his gaze, her brown eyes sincere. ‘This is home. I trained to be a doctor to take care of the people that I love.’ She held out her hands and gave a soft smile. ‘And the people I love are here.’

Something twisted inside his chest. She was talking about herself. He knew that. He understood it. Though he couldn’t help but feel the imaginary punch to the guts. He hadn’t been able to help the one he loved. There wasn’t anything he could have done to save Esther. He’d picked apart every element of her diagnosis and treatment a million times in the long sleepless nights after her death.

As his stomach twisted, Lien gave him a look. She glanced between him and the sleeping form of Regan. ‘Why Vietnam?’

Two words. But he knew she was asking so much more.

He swallowed, wishing the tea wasn’t quite so scalding so he could gulp it down.

He took a deep breath. He hated it that he’d got used to telling people that Esther had died, seeing their pitying glances or slight discomfort.

‘My mother chose it for us,’ he said with a rueful smile.

Her brow wrinkled. ‘What?’

He lifted one hand and ran it through his hair. A wave of tiredness had just hit him, and he really hoped that bathroom had a shower that he could hit soon. He relaxed back against the sofa. He was too tired for anything but honesty. He didn’t have the energy to dress things up.

‘My wife died three years ago. It had always been our intention to travel, to show Regan the world, and my mother…’ he gave a slow nod of his head ‘…decided we both needed a change of scene.’ He held up one hand. ‘Vietnam was one of the places on the wish list.’

‘Your wish list, or your wife’s?’ She hadn’t rushed in with an immediate offer of condolence, instead she’d asked an unexpected question.

He shifted a little on the sofa and gave her an interested look. ‘It was mine actually. I always wanted to come and work here at some point, it just kind of…fell off my radar.’ He paused for a second. ‘A lot of things did,’ he added quietly.

Lien fixed her eyes back towards the bedroom. ‘That’s understandable. You had to change your priorities. Becoming mum and dad to a little boy can’t have been easy.’

He turned to face her again. He liked this woman. She was direct. They’d only just met but she seemed to read him well. For the last few years people had tiptoed around him instead of having actual conversations with him, just giving him sympathetic glances or a squeeze of an arm.

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed in the warm air of Vietnam. He’d had doubts the whole way here, but now, for the first time, this actually felt like the right move. He smiled.

‘Regan makes it easy,’ he said. ‘I’m lucky.’ He shot her a sideways glance. ‘I know what happened wasn’t lucky, but I still have a part of her. I can see her every day in our son. From a gesture, a look, even his laugh. And I know she would be proud of the little guy.’ He let out a deep breath. ‘I just hope that this was the right move, at the right time, and Regan will love it here.’

Lien gave an understanding nod as she took a final sip of her tea. ‘There’s lots to love here, it’s a great hospital, and great staff. If you need a hand from any of your colleagues, all you have to do is ask.’

He gave a nod of thanks. The words were reassuring. This was the first time he and Regan had been away from their extended family, and the added complication of Khiem and Hoa not being here when they’d arrived had given him a moment of concern.

He looked back at Lien. ‘At the entrance…’ he gave a little smile ‘…you were expecting someone…different?’

Her smile was gentle in return. She knew she’d been caught out. She gave a nod. ‘From the description Khiem gave me I was expecting someone…older.’ He could see the compassion and warmth in her eyes. ‘But you’ll do, Dr Joe. You’ll do.’ She patted him on the shoulder as she stood up and pointed to the fridge.

There was something about the way she said those words that sent a little buzz through his body. The nod of approval meant everything to him and he couldn’t quite work out why. Maybe it was the journey, the distance, the unknown. Whatever it was, he could already tell that Lien was someone he could work with. She’d asked a lot of questions tonight and he hadn’t really had the opportunity to ask much in return. He was intrigued. He already wanted to know more about his colleague but Lien was talking again.

‘There are noodles, vegetables and pork in there. The wok is in the cupboard to the side of the cooker. If you’re hungry, you should be able to rustle something up.’ She lifted her cup and walked over with it to the sink. ‘I can show you where the market is tomorrow if you need to get some other things. It’s not too far.’

He stood up quickly, remembering his manners.

‘If you need anything, I’m just in the house next door.’

‘You are? Which one is yours?’

‘Khiem and Hoa stay in the one with the yellow door, and I’m in the lilac one.’

He gave a nod as she opened the door, then realised something. ‘Darn it, I haven’t even looked around the hospital properly yet.’

Lien waved her hand as she strolled away. ‘Plenty of time for that tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.’ She gave him a bright smile as she headed towards the house with the lilac door, her hair bouncing as she walked.

He gave a little shake of his head. He’d been worried. Maybe even a tiny bit scared. But Lien seemed like she could be a good colleague. He looked around the house. It was compact but had everything they needed. Six months.

Six months of something completely and utterly different. And for the second time since his mother had handed him the tickets, he felt a wave of emotion that this time he could recognise. Excitement.

Lien closed the door behind her. Maybe she’d been too direct—too forward. Truth was, she was a little on edge. Khiem and Hoa had expected to be here, but the phone call from the other hospital had meant they’d had to leave at short notice. Joe didn’t realise it yet, but it actually meant that they’d be two doctors down for the next few weeks. Lien hadn’t been joking about the bribery.

She pulled the clip from her hair and gave her head a shake. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t a bit intrigued by the new Scottish doctor. She’d had to concentrate hard at some points when he’d been speaking. Did he realise just how quickly he sometimes spoke, and how the words just seemed to all run into one?

She’d noticed his fingers hovering near the picture he’d placed next to Regan. It was clear it was pictures of his wife. Was he really ready to be here?

She sighed. They’d had doctors here for six months at a time before. The last doctor from Germany had been suffering from mental health problems that had come to a head while he’d been here. A female doctor had come to Vietnam without declaring her drug addiction—something that had quickly become evident. Another colleague had appeared from the US, romanced his way around the staff in the hospital, then left abruptly after three months. Turned out he’d left a wife back home he’d forgotten to tell anyone about.

All three of those doctors had been escaping something, running away from something. It sounded very much like Joe Lennox was doing something similar. Would he really last six months? Because she needed him to. The hospital needed some stability. Sad as his story was, the last thing they needed was another doctor with problems of his own who would leave because he discovered the experience in Vietnam wasn’t what he wanted.

She started stripping off her clothes as she headed to the shower. She’d have to help him out as much as she could—particularly until his little boy was settled in the international school. If Joe got cold feet he might decide to get on the first plane home to Scotland. She believed him when he said he’d needed a change. But the fact he’d been honest enough to say his mother had pushed him in this direction bothered her. Was he really ready for this? She hadn’t seen his CV. She had no idea what his previous experience was. Khiem and Hoa did all the recruitment and she trusted their judgement. If they thought he’d fit in, then she had to believe that.

But the truth was, it wasn’t his skills she was worried about. It was more his heart and his head. If his head was somewhere else he could make mistakes, and if his heart wasn’t in it, he wouldn’t want to stay.

Something twisted in her chest.

This place meant everything to her.

For lots of the residents in Hanoi, this was their only accessible healthcare. Yes, services were pushed. Yes, they didn’t always have all the supplies that they needed. But she was determined that this place would always serve the population that needed it.

People like her, and her family.

This was her city, her people.

And no matter how much empathy she had for the new doctor’s circumstances, he had better be prepared to pull his weight around here.

CHAPTER TWO

LIEN WAS WAITING for him when he arrived back after dropping Regan at the school. He’d obviously been nervous about leaving his son at the strange school in an unfamiliar city, but the place had given him good vibes. The nursery teacher had shown them into a bright, welcoming environment filled with a host of happy-looking children chattering in different languages.

Regan had tugged at his hand after a few minutes, anxious to go and join in the fun, so Joe had left with reassurances that they would call the hospital if there were any concerns.

By the time he got back to the hospital it was a few minutes before eight o’clock. Already the place was a hive of activity. The waiting room had only a few seats left. Lien was wearing a pale blue shirt and navy trousers, and her hair was in a ponytail again. There was no sign of the traditional white coat.

He’d swithered for a few moments this morning over what to wear, before settling on a pair of dark trousers and a simple short-sleeved white shirt. The temperature here was much warmer than he was used to, and he wasn’t sure if the hospital had air-conditioning or not. He hadn’t noticed last night. He gave a sniff. He wasn’t quite used to the aroma of the insect repellent he’d covered both himself and Regan in this morning. Maybe he should have tried to drown it out with more aftershave?

Lien gave him a brief nod as he walked back through the main entrance. ‘Good. Is Regan settled?’

He gave a brief nod and she started speaking again straight away. ‘Come with me, and I’ll give you a walk around. I’ll show you our systems and our supplies and when Mai Ahn, our translator, gets here, I’ll assign her to you for the rest of the day.’ She walked him over to a sink and started washing her hands. He quickly followed suit. She’d already mentioned norovirus problems. Hand washing was one of the key practices to help prevent the spread.

Joe barely had time to draw breath. ‘First thing,’ Lien said as she kept scrubbing her hands, ‘you should really wear long sleeves. If your shirts are too warm, I’ll show you a place where you can buy some lighter weight clothing. Do you have your insect repellent on?’

He nodded and she kept talking. ‘With Khiem and Hoa away, we’re two doctors down. I can’t afford for our latest recruit to pick up something from a mosquito bite.’

It felt like a bit of a reprimand and he wasn’t quite sure how to react, but Lien was already talking again. ‘Hoa covered antenatal and maternity care, so we’ll all have to pick up her role while she’s gone.’

Joe didn’t miss the way that she’d phrased that. She hadn’t asked him about his experience, or if he was happy to cover this area. She was letting him know what was expected of him. It seemed her directness last night hadn’t been unusual but the norm.

As they finished scrubbing their hands she kept talking while she dried hers. ‘Okay, I’m sure you’ve done some general reading on the health issues in Vietnam.’ She shot him a sideways glance. ‘Or at least I hope you have.’

He nodded quickly. ‘Of course. Main issues are malaria, tuberculosis, HIV and AIDS, with some cases of dengue fever and ongoing issues with Agent Orange.’

She gave an appreciative nod and held out her hands. ‘Biggest killer of kids in our area is malnutrition, coupled with diarrhoea and vomiting. They have no extra fat layers to fall back on. It hits hard and fast.’

‘So a norovirus outbreak is your worst nightmare?’

‘Pretty much.’

She led him down one corridor and then up a set of stairs. ‘Okay, downstairs is basically our clinic area. Upstairs we have six four-bed rooms with a variety of patients. Children and adults.’ He could see how the layout of the traditional colonial house had been adapted to work as a hospital. There were a number of nursing staff upstairs to whom she introduced him quickly. The staff seemed friendly, and the patients well-cared-for. Most were on IVs. Lien caught his gaze.

‘We have a mixture of dehydration in both the young and the elderly. Lots of chest complaints too. Anyone suffering from diarrhoea is cared for separately in one of the single rooms at the other end of the corridor.’

Joe nodded. He’d known whole hospital wards closed because of winter vomiting bugs. They couldn’t ignore, or not treat, people affected, but, because it was infectious, it had a real chance of being passed to other patients or staff. Hygiene issues had to be the top priority.

‘Anyone today that you’re worried about?’

She gave him a half-smile. ‘I’ve already done a ward round this morning, but we’ll do another one later so you can familiarise yourself with the patients. Today we start downstairs at the clinic.’

They washed their hands again, and moved back down the stairs.

Downstairs was separated into four areas. One was a general waiting room, one was for children, one for pregnant women and a fourth for X-rays, with a plaster room next door. It was a real mixed bag. A kind of cross between a GP surgery and community hospital back in Scotland.

Lien gave a little sigh as she showed him into an office and gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite her. ‘We have a real mixture of antenatal care. Only around sixty per cent of women in Vietnam attend antenatal care. Some women don’t present until late in pregnancy. Others present early, requesting their pregnancy be monitored all the way through for birth defects. It’s not unheard of for a pregnant woman in Vietnam to have up to twenty scans.’

Joe’s eyebrows shot upwards. The norm for the UK was two, unless there were any concerns. Something clicked in his brain. ‘Agent Orange?’

She nodded.

‘How often nowadays do women present with birth defects?’

Lien’s face was serious. ‘It’s more prevalent now in the south of Vietnam, but forty years on there are still children affected here. The spray that was used to destroy the crops obviously went into the soil. Poverty is a major issue in Vietnam and some families are solely reliant on growing their own foods. They have no other option but to eat the food they grow—whether the soil is damaged or not.’

She shook her head. ‘We have two other hospitals. One is in the outskirts of the city of Uông Bí city, in northeast Vietnam, and the other—the one Duc’s parents have just gone to—is in Trà Bồng District in the south of the country. At that one, we also take care of the kids in the nearby orphanage. A lot of them are affected. There’s poverty across Vietnam, just like there’s poverty in every country in the world, but it’s worse down in the south. Down there, families are reliant on farming. If their crops fail, it’s disaster for them. A lot of them rely on their kids to work alongside them. If their kids are affected by Agent Orange, or any other genetic or medical condition, often the family can’t afford to keep them.’

‘So they end up in the orphanage?’ Joe asked.

‘Exactly. We offer free medical care to the orphanage. Things have improved in the last few years, but we still aren’t where we should be.’

‘Sometimes I forget how lucky we are in the UK. Yes, things aren’t perfect. But the healthcare part of the job generally always gets done.’ He gave a slow nod. ‘And the first hospital you mentioned?’

‘The other is in Uông Bí in Quang Ninh province, in northeast Vietnam, more towards the coast. We’ll cover both hospitals at some point in the next six months—generally just for a week or two to cover holidays.’

‘Okay.’ He was beginning to get a general feel for the place, for the sort of patients he’d be seeing, and the kind of responsibilities he’d have here. None of it seemed beyond his ability, though he’d have to do a bit more background reading on some treatments.

Lien ran through the paperwork they used, how to order tests and their prescribing arrangements. She handed him a pre-printed list with Vietnamese names for some of the more commonly used drugs. It was clear she’d familiarised foreign doctors with the clinic workings before.

Joe leaned on one hand. Everything seemed straightforward enough. ‘This place,’ he said, ‘it’s like a cross between a community clinic, a cottage hospital and an ER.’

Lien was watching him with careful eyes. He couldn’t quite work out what was going on in her mind. He was sure she was part vetting him, part examining his motives. It was only natural. She was looking for someone she could rely on. Having to check another doctor’s practices would be almost as bad as not having a colleague at all. ‘Let’s hope you don’t have to cover it all at once,’ she said softly.

He could see the flash of worry in her eyes. But the only way to earn the trust of a colleague was to prove himself. Joe was willing to do that. Back home everyone trusted him in his current role, but he wasn’t back home any more. He was in an entirely different country, and while some health needs would be the same, there were others he’d need to query, and Joe wasn’t too proud to do that. He would never put patients at risk.

‘Where do you want me?’

Lien’s eyes brightened at the question. Was that relief he’d just spotted? ‘What do you prefer?’ she asked. ‘I need someone to cover the children’s clinic, and someone to cover the adult clinic.’

He gave a nod. The clinic work, whether it was for children or adults, would be very much like his GP role back home. He shot her a smile. ‘Happy to do either.’ Then met her gaze. ‘Put me wherever I can be of most use.’

She shifted a little in her chair, caught off guard at his words. He almost let his smile broaden. She liked being straightforward and so did he. ‘I’m not here to be a hindrance, Lien, I’m here to be a help.’

She reached up and brushed an errant strand of brown hair behind her ear that had escaped her ponytail. She was close enough that he could see just how smooth her skin was. She wore very little make-up. But she didn’t need any, her dark hair and eyes complemented her appearance beautifully. In another life, in another place, he would definitely have looked twice.

It had been so long since a thought like that had even entered his head that he automatically frowned. What was wrong with him? Where had that come from?

Lien tilted her head. ‘Something wrong?’

He shook his head too quickly. ‘No, nothing.’ He pushed himself up from the chair. ‘Where do you want me?’ He was anxious to get this day started.

The few seconds of silence was slightly uncomfortable. He flashed back to being a junior doctor and the nurse in charge of the ward shooting him a glance to say she doubted he should even actually touch a patient.

A figure appeared in the doorway and Lien stood up. ‘Perfect. Mai Ahn, this is Joe. Joe, this is Mai Ahn, your interpreter. She’ll help you with the children’s clinic.’

‘Children’s clinic it is,’ he said with a nod, before reaching out to shake hands with Mai Ahn. ‘Lead the way.’

She was unsure of him. Of course she was. Did he even notice he occasionally glanced at his mobile clipped onto his belt? It was only natural that he was worried about how his son was settling in on his first day of nursery, she only hoped it wouldn’t distract him from the job he had to do.

The children’s clinic wasn’t for the faint-hearted.

She couldn’t help but be automatically protective of the place she loved working in. At least he’d been honest last night. He’d told her that he and his son needed a change after losing his wife. He’d said it had been three years. But she’d seen the glint of pain in his eyes. Was he really ready to move on?

She still had doubts.

It was a shame. Because he was undoubtedly handsome. The burr of the Scots accent was almost melodic—even though she had to concentrate hard. And it was clear that he doted on his son. Just as she’d expect him to.

She gave herself a shake. It was a ridiculous observation. She was used to doctors coming here on short-term contracts, and she’d never considered any kind of relationship. She was too busy. Too dedicated to her work. She’d had her heart broken once, and that was enough for her.

Too poor. Not the words he’d used, but those were the words he’d meant. Lien had never pretended to be anything she wasn’t. As a child she’d always been well mannered and as well presented as she could be. She’d been bright, and her teachers had noticed. They’d encouraged her to study hard, and eventually helped her to seek out scholarships so she could attend medical school.

At medical school she’d got along with most of her classmates. Reuben had come from a rich family in another city. He’d never asked her where she lived—he’d just made assumptions. Then, when he’d found out, after two years, she’d been dumped quicker than a hot brick.

Her family was proud of her, and she was of them. She’d hated the way it had made her feel. Not good enough. Not rich enough.

She came from one of the poorest areas in the city. Her family still lived there—no matter how much she’d tried to assist them since she’d qualified as a doctor. But even now they wouldn’t accept any financial help from her.

They liked where they lived. They still worked hard. They didn’t want change, in any form.

Lien lifted the pile of patient notes from the desk. They were all people who were due back at the clinic today to be reviewed.

One of the nurses gave her a smile as she walked into the waiting room. There were already ten people waiting. She gave a nod of her head and smiled, speaking in Vietnamese. ‘Okay, who is first?’

The only person having trouble concentrating today was her. She kept casting her eyes through to the other waiting room. She knew that Mai Ahn, the interpreter, would come and find her if he had any concerns. But she didn’t. Instead, she saw an occasional glance of Joe carrying babies and toddlers through to the examination room for assessment or vaccinations. Through Mai Ahn, he chatted to the mothers. Most of them seemed happy to talk to him and from the looks on their faces the Scottish doctor was proving a hit.

After a few hours he came through and knocked on her door.

‘Lien, can we have a chat about a child?’

She nodded, pleased that he’d come to talk to her.

‘I think I’ve got a little one with complications of tuberculosis. I can’t find any previous notes, and there’s no X-ray.’ His brow wrinkled. ‘Don’t most babies get immunised against tuberculosis shortly after birth?’

‘They should. Unfortunately, tuberculosis is common around here. If babies are born in hospital they are immunised if the parents consent. But not all babies are born in hospitals. What do you think are the complications?’

He ran his hands through his hair. ‘She’s losing weight, even though she’s feeding. Her colour is poor, she’s tachycardic, and I suspect her oxygen saturation isn’t what it should be. Her lungs don’t sound as if they are filling properly. She has a temperature and a cough. I suspect a pleural effusion. Do you have a paediatric monitor I could use while I order a chest X-ray?’

Lien stood quickly and gave him a serious kind of smile. ‘Let’s do this together.’

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ He didn’t seem annoyed by the fact she was effectively second-guessing him. He might even have looked a little amused.

‘You asked for a second opinion, Dr Lennox. I’m going to give you one.’

The amused look stayed on his face. ‘Absolutely. I haven’t seen many kids with tuberculosis in Scotland.’

She gave a nod as they walked through to the paediatric treatment room. As soon as they reached the door, Lien could almost verify his diagnosis. She switched to Vietnamese and introduced herself to the mother and her five-year-old daughter, who was clearly sick.

Joe’s notes were thorough. Three other members of the family had active tuberculosis. Only one complied with their treatment. It was no wonder the little girl was affected.

Five minutes later they were looking at a chest X-ray. Joe was right at her shoulder. She held her breath and caught a slight whiff of the aftershave he was wearing, even though it was overshadowed by his insect repellent. She wanted to know if he’d recognise what she needed him to on the X-ray.

She needn’t have worried. He lifted one finger and pointed to the film. ‘Pleural effusion without any parenchymal lesion.’ He didn’t finish there. ‘I know there’s some mixed feelings, but because of how this little girl has presented, I would be inclined to drain the effusion rather than leaving it.’

She took a few minutes to recheck things. This was the first time he’d seen a child with tuberculosis, never mind the added complications, and he’d picked it up straight away. She couldn’t help but be impressed.

She turned to face him. ‘I think you’re right. Let’s put our public health heads on and try to persuade the rest of the family to comply with their medications. We can use a sample of the effusion to diagnose the tuberculosis. A pleural biopsy would likely be too traumatic right now.’

He nodded in agreement. She paused for a moment, wondering whether she should question his skill set any further.

‘Any experience of doing a pleural effusion in a five-year-old?’

He nodded. ‘I specialised in paediatrics before training as a GP.’ He gave her a steady look. ‘I’ve got this. But I’m happy for you to stay if you’d like.’

He didn’t seem defensive or annoyed, but it felt like a bit of a line in the sand. He already knew she’d questioned his diagnosis. Now she’d asked about his experience. Lots of other clinicians that she knew might have been annoyed by this, but Joe just seemed to have accepted her actions without any discomfort. Still, the tone in his voice had changed a little, as if he was getting a bit tired of her.

She pressed her lips together. If he’d expressed any anxiety about the situation she would have been happy to take over. But he hadn’t, and she knew it was time to step back. She had enough patients of her own to see still in the waiting room.

She glanced at the nurse and interpreter. She had confidence in both of them. Either of them would come and find her if they were worried. She tried her best to look casual. ‘I’ll leave it with you. Shout if you need anything.’

Joe watched her retreat, knowing exactly how hard it was for her. Was his counterpart a bit of a control freak? Or maybe she just second-guessed everyone she worked with?

He tried to understand, even though he couldn’t help but feel a little insulted by her lack of faith in him. It’s not like he hadn’t experienced this himself. He’d worked with plenty of other doctors, in a variety of settings over the years, and it always took a bit of time to reassure himself about a colleague’s skills and competencies.

It was clear she loved this place. She’d more or less told him that already. There was also the added responsibility of her employers not being here right now, so the well-being of May Mắn hospital was really in her hands.

He gave some instructions to the nurse, who seemed to understand his English, then knelt down beside the little girl and her mother with Mai Ahn, the interpreter, to explain what would happen next.

Thirty minutes later the procedure was complete, with some hazy yellow fluid in a specimen bottle for the lab. The little girl’s cheeks and lips had lost their duskiness, the oxygen saturation monitor showed improvement, and when he listened to her chest he could hear the improved inflation of her lung. He gave instructions to the nurse for another X-ray, and to further monitor for the next few hours.

‘I’ll come back and have a follow-up chat about the medicines,’ he said. Something came into his head. ‘Do doctors make home visits here?’

The nurse frowned for a second as if she didn’t quite understand what he’d said, then shook her head. ‘No. Never.’

Joe sat back in his chair for a moment. He didn’t want to send this child home with just a prescription in her hand. The rest of the family were important too. The mother had already told him that both her husband and father-in-law kept forgetting to take their tuberculosis meds. Only her own mother remembered. If he could just see them, and persuade them how important it was, it might stop other family members being infected. He glanced out to the waiting room. He still had a whole host of patients to see, some of whom would need vaccinations, and some might need tuberculosis testing. He went to the waiting room with Mai Ahn to call the next patient, while his idea continued to grow in his head.

‘He went where?’

Ping, one of the nurses, shrugged. ‘He talked kind of strange. Something about a home visit. Apparently they do them in Scotland a lot. He persuaded Mai Ahn to go with him.’

Lien walked over and looked at the notes, checking the address on the file, then grabbed her jacket. She’d nearly made it to the front door, when her brain started to become a bit more logical. All she was feeling right now was rage. She went back and scanned the rest of the notes, checking to see what other family members were affected. ‘Did he take prescriptions, or did he take the actual medicines?’ she asked Ping.

Ping gave her a smile as she carried on with her work and brought a single finger to her lips. ‘I couldn’t possibly say.’

Lien nearly exploded. It was obvious that the Scottish charm was already working on her staff. What on earth was he thinking? They had to account for every dose they used. They weren’t a dispensary. On a few occasions they gave out enough medicines to see a patient through the night, but they didn’t give out medicines on a regular basis.

She snatched up her bag and made her way out into the streets. It was around six now, and the pavements were filled with people making their way home from work, the streets filled with traffic. She did her best to dodge her way through the crowds and cross the few streets. The home address wasn’t too far away, but the walk did nothing to quell her temper.

By the time she’d reached the address her heart was thudding in her chest. This wasn’t exactly the best part of town. She had no idea how he’d managed to persuade Mai Ahn to bring him here, but she would make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

The house was on the second floor of an older block of flats, where each storey looked as if it squished the flats beneath it even more. She climbed the small stairwell and walked swiftly along, checking the number before she knocked on the door.

‘It’s Dr Lien, from the hospital,’ she said.

She held her breath for a few moments, and then frowned. Was that laughter she heard inside? The door creaked open and the elderly grandmother of the household gave a little bow as she ushered Lien into the house.

Lien walked through to the main room, where the majority of the family was sitting on bamboo mats on the floor, Joe amongst them.

Mai Ahn was by his side, translating rapidly as he spoke. He had laid the complicated drugs for tuberculosis out in front of the elderly grandfather, instructing Mai Ahn to draw a paper chart with dates and times.

Lien stopped the angry words that were forming in her mouth. Back when she’d worked in the US, dispensary boxes had been commonplace for patients who were on several drugs. But they weren’t widely used here at all. That was what he was doing. He was making a do-it-yourself chart and placing the individual tablets on it.

He looked up and caught her eye. ‘Lien, oh, you’re here.’ His eyes shot protectively to Mai Ahn, whose face revealed she thought she was in trouble. The little girl from earlier was sitting curled into her mother’s lap. She’d done well, had been sent home with a prescription for her own meds, and if they were administered to her, she should do well.

Joe stood up. ‘I was just explaining to the family the problems with drug resistance and how important it is to keep taking their medicines.’

There was a shout behind Lien and she turned to see another two children playing in another room. She swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘This might be common practice for Scotland, Dr Lennox, but it’s pretty unconventional for Vietnam.’

He stood up casually and shook hands with the grandfather, and then the little girl’s father, who also had a chart in front of him. He nodded towards Mai Ahn to get her to translate for him again. ‘Thank you so much for seeing me.’ He nodded to the little girl’s mother. ‘Make sure you collect that prescription tomorrow, and if you think there are any problems, feel free to come back to the clinic and see me again.’ He gestured towards the kids in the other room. ‘And remember to come in for the testing. Remember, we can vaccinate too.’

Lien didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. He hadn’t just covered the delivery of the prescriptions, he’d covered the public health issues they’d talked about earlier, taking into account multi-resistant TB, contact tracing, further testing and immunisations.

She bowed in respect to the family and spoke a few extra words of reassurance before leading the way out of the house. She waited until the door had closed behind them, and Mai Ahn had hurried on ahead, before spinning around to face him. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’