Читать книгу Discovering Dr Riley - Annie Claydon - Страница 11

CORI WOKE FEELING as if she’d been run over by a steamroller in the night. Perhaps she’d feel better once she’d had a shower and got moving.

There wasn’t much choice in the matter. Her supervisor had told her that Dr Shah, Head of Paediatrics, had taken extended medical leave, and that the acting head had expressed concern about her being allowed to work in the unit. She wasn’t going to give him any excuses to dismiss her before she’d even had a chance to show what she could do. Not turning up on the first day would be like presenting him with her head on a plate.

She’d packed everything she’d thought she might need for the day in a large canvas bag, which sat in the hall. Taking the heaviest and least essential items back out, she pulled the strap across her shoulder, decided she could manage, and called a taxi.

The two miles to the hospital was easy, but by the time she’d found her way through the maze of corridors to the paediatric unit her shoulder was on fire and she needed to sit down. The entrance doors to the unit were locked, and pressing the bell didn’t elicit an immediate response.

‘I thought I told you to stay home for a couple of days.’ The voice behind her was unmistakable. Dammit. What was he doing here? A and E was on the other side of the building.

It was just as well that Cori could only turn slowly as it gave her time to think. ‘Actually, you told me to take it easy for a couple of days.’

He didn’t look best pleased. ‘So I did. And I can see that you’re following my instructions to the letter.’ He reached past her and punched a code into the pad by the door, then held it open for her. Dressed in a suit, instead of the dark blue chinos he’d been wearing yesterday, he seemed a lot less approachable, if no less handsome.

‘Thanks. I’m looking for the admin office …’ Hopefully Tom wasn’t going to be staying around long enough to mention that she’d turned up to work against doctor’s orders. That wasn’t the start she’d been hoping to make.

‘I’m Tom Riley.’ He pulled the door closed behind them. ‘Acting Head of Paediatrics.’

Suddenly Cori’s shoulder stopped hurting, in response to an instinctive urge to either fight or fly. The effort of doing neither left her staring at him in dumb horror.

A flicker of remorse showed in his eyes. ‘I didn’t realise who you were yesterday, until you’d gone.’

At least he had some idea of the position he’d put her in. And if this wasn’t quite an apology, at least it wasn’t a declaration of out-and-out war.

‘I didn’t catch your surname.’ She flushed, remembering that Adrian had kicked him before he’d had a chance to say it.

‘Let me help you with the bag.’ He was suddenly closer than she’d like. ‘I know you’ve got to be hurting.’

Cori thought about telling him she could manage, but it was much too late for that. He’d already seen the bruises. She’d already betrayed far more about herself than he needed to know, and then she’d allowed herself to fantasise about those innocent-as-sin blue eyes. The detached professionalism which she’d intended to hit Dr Riley with this morning wasn’t going to work.

‘Thanks.’ She grabbed at the strap of her bag, trying awkwardly to lift it over her head, and he came closer still to help, grimacing when he felt its weight.

‘How did you get here?’ It was probably just concern on his part, but Cori couldn’t help but feel there was an edge of criticism to the question. She took a breath, lacing her answer with a smile.

‘By taxi. If I’m going to be reckless, I’d prefer to do it the easy way.’

Taking the gamble of joking with him didn’t come off well. He seemed about to smile and then reconsidered, turning abruptly to lead the way past the reception desk. Cori followed him along a snaking corridor, her eyes fixed on his back, trying not to count the number of ways that she might be in disgrace.

He threw open a door. ‘We’ve set a room aside for you.’

‘Thanks …’ Cori caught her breath. The health authority scheme, linking art therapists with local hospitals, had produced a set of guidelines that stipulated a separate room, but most of the therapists in her group had been given a large cupboard at best. Tom might not approve of her presence, but he’d given her a bright and airy room, with two large tables to work at and a small seating area in one corner.

‘This is …’ Perfect. Wonderful. Suddenly it was quite unbelievable. ‘Are there any limitations on when I can use the room?’

‘Nope. It’s all yours for eight weeks.’ The breath of a smile played around his lips. ‘That’s what the guidelines requested.’

‘The guidelines asked for more than anyone expected to get.’ Cori looked around. ‘This is perfect, thank you.’

His nod indicated that he’d heard, but conveyed nothing else. ‘I have a meeting in a minute, so I hope you don’t mind if I leave you to it. I’ll get Maureen, the unit administrator, to show you around and then perhaps you can use today to get settled. It would be good if you could draw up a list of proposals for the kinds of activities you want to run, as well.’

She already had a list of proposals. Okay, so she hadn’t seen the space she was going to be using, but she’d made sure to include options that covered almost anything from a broom cupboard to Buckingham Palace. But Tom seemed to be intent on getting out of the room as quickly as possible and was already halfway to the door. Taking a breath and thinking first, before she said anything rash, was the thing to do now.

‘Thank you. Maureen, you say …?’

Was that a smile? Maybe he was congratulating himself at not having to bother with her any more this morning. ‘Yeah. She probably won’t be in yet, but I’ll leave a note on her desk. If you stay here, she’ll find you.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

This time there definitely was a smile. As swift as it was melting, it sent warmth tingling through her followed by a sudden, empty feeling of loss as it was withdrawn. She almost choked.

‘Coffee machine’s in the main office. Help yourself.’ He was gone. Taking with him his smile, the fresh scent that Cori had tried not to notice, and any hope that she might have had of winning him around at their first meeting.

She sat down with a bump, wincing as she did so. This morning hadn’t quite gone as she’d intended, but she was still here. And she was still in with a chance of finding out exactly what Tom had against her being here, and of changing his mind.

Not so long ago, the only thing expected of Tom when a pretty young woman arrived on the unit was that he would turn on the charm and ask her to dinner. But then Dr Shah had suffered a heart attack, and it had fallen to Tom to keep the unit running while he was away on extended leave.

It was a mystery to him that Cori was even here. He’d seen the bruises and knew that she must be hurting like hell. It wasn’t as if there was any hope of a job once her eight weeks in the hospital were up. Funding had been withdrawn, and the only reason this placement hadn’t been cancelled was that it had been considered too late to stop it. But she seemed determined, and it was his responsibility to provide her with as many opportunities as he could.

Thankfully Maureen was already at her desk, reviewing the contents of her handbag before she started her day. At least he could send someone else to provide Cori with the welcome that he’d entirely failed to give.

‘Was that the new art therapist I saw you with?’ Maureen dispensed with the usual Good morning and Did you have a nice weekend?

‘It was. Do you still have time to show her around?’

‘Of course. What have you said to her?’

‘That I’d see if I could find you …’

‘So, in other words, you ducked the issue.’

‘I know it looks a lot like that. Now I’m Acting Head of Department, I think I’m allowed to call it delegating.’ He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes. Maureen had been in the department for twenty years and there was no one, including Tom, who hadn’t been picked up and dusted down by her at one point or another in their career.

‘I’ll tell you now that I’ve no intention of playing good cop. Or bad cop, for that matter, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He imagined that the woman he’d met yesterday in A and E would spot such a game a mile off, and probably outplay him. ‘I just want you to keep an eye out for her. Let me know how she’s doing.’

‘And the better she does, the less you’ll like it?’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Does she know that?’

‘It’s not as simple as that …’

‘No. Nothing ever is.’ Maureen got to her feet, pulling her jacket straight in a no-nonsense motion. ‘Just as long as I’m not the one who has to explain that to her.’

Tom Riley was almost certainly a better doctor than he was a boss. Cori considered the matter carefully as she tidied up the pens and paper from the afternoon’s art session. It had been fun. Children from the ward had been joined by parents and siblings and more than one person had said that it was a great addition to the pastoral care that the unit provided. The only problem was that it hadn’t been art therapy.

The next eight weeks might not be precious to Tom but they were precious to her and time was trickling away. A day, then two, now three …

As expected, Ralph and Jean had provided comfort food, followed by advice over the washing-up.

‘You know this isn’t your fault, don’t you?’ Ralph was soaping plates vigorously.

‘That’s how it feels.’ She could share those fears with Ralph. He knew that was how she’d felt when she’d been a kid, rejected by one family after another. It had almost been too late by the time he and Jean had finally found her.

‘So you’ll be getting up at six in the morning to do the housework?’ A smile played around Ralph’s mouth. ‘You want a hand with that?’

Cori chuckled. That was exactly what he had said when he’d found her in the kitchen, seven years old and trying to reach the switch for the washing machine, reckoning that if she made herself useful Ralph and Jean might keep her for a while. She’d liked their relaxed, cluttered household from the start and being allowed to stay had seemed like the first time a dream had ever come true for her.

‘I think I’ve got it covered. I’m not going to be washing Dr Riley’s socks.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Ralph stacked more plates onto the drainer, his brow puckered in thought. ‘So let me get this clear. There’s an initial eight-week period, and if that’s a success the post becomes permanent.’

‘Yes, that’s right. It’s such a good opportunity, working with children, close to home. It’s exactly the job I want.’

‘And this Dr Riley doesn’t want you. Why on earth did he agree to it in the first place?’

‘That’s the thing, he didn’t. His predecessor, Dr Shah, agreed to it, and now this Dr Riley has got his reservations. I’ve emailed the scheme’s supervisor to ask her why, but she’s now on holiday. And I’m sure Dr Riley’s avoiding me.’

‘Is there anyone else you can talk to?’

‘Only Maureen, the unit administrator. She’s been really welcoming, but it’s up to Dr Riley to refer specific patients on to me if I’m to do any clinical work. If he doesn’t do that, then all I can do is general art sessions.’

‘And you’re taking that personally, eh?’

‘How else can it take it? Every time I see him he either rushes off before I can get to talk to him or he says he’s busy and he’ll get back to me.’

‘Is he like that with everyone else?’ Ralph frowned as he turned the problem over in his head.

‘You saw what he was like with Adrian, he’s fantastic with the kids. They all think he’s the coolest doctor ever.’

‘What about the other staff?’

‘Everyone says he’s great. That he always listens and is very fair about things. They seem to like him a lot better than Dr Shah. He was apparently pretty autocratic.’

The frightened child in her, who had blamed herself each time a fostering arrangement had fallen through, had been tugging at Cori’s sleeve for the last three days. Keeping her behind after work, even though her sore ribs were screaming for a hot bath, working to make the best of the room she’d been given.

She’d succeeded. The children loved the room, and no one had been able to walk across the threshold without being tempted to touch at least something. The problem had been that Tom Riley hadn’t yet found time to walk across the threshold. And that rejection outweighed every other expression of delight.

Ralph shook the suds from his hands, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. ‘There’s no shame in saying this place isn’t right for you, Cori. You don’t have to prove yourself. They’re the ones who have to be good enough for you.’

She hugged him tight. ‘Thanks. Spoken like the best dad in the world.’

Ralph gave a small chuckle of pleasure. ‘So what are you going to do, then? We’re around at the weekend to help you with some more job applications, if you want to come over.’

It seemed like a plan. Since this job didn’t seem to be going too well, it would be good to keep all her options open. But she wasn’t ready to give up on Dr Riley just yet.

‘Thanks. I think I’ll give it another week or so, though. I’ve still got a couple more things up my sleeve.’

It had been a long and busy week and all Tom wanted to do was go home, fling himself onto the sofa and think about nothing. Heading up the paediatric unit wasn’t as easy as Dr Shah had made it look. But slowly he was cracking it. One problem at a time. One patient. One member of staff.

The light glimmering on his windscreen hadn’t stood out amongst the other reflections from the overhead strip lighting in the car park. In truth, he’d been thinking hard about something else, and it wasn’t until he’d flipped the central locking that Tom switched his attention to his car.

Perched on his windscreen wiper was a fairy. Actually, it was a bundle of scrunched-up silver wire, some sparkly fabric and a bit of tinsel. But the whole was a great deal more than its parts, and the resulting fairy leaned as if inspecting the exact spot where he was standing, her head tilted slightly in a questioning pose.

‘What do you want?’ Tom shot the creature a glare. It was a little late to start believing in fairies now. Particularly on a cold, wet Friday evening.

The fairy ignored him. Whatever she was doing here, it was clearly none of his business, even if she was sitting on his windscreen. Tom looked around, and saw that his car was the only one that sported an otherworldly being.

It was just a bundle of wire and gauze, which had somehow landed here by accident. The significance of its pose was a trick of the light. Tom reached for the fairy and then hesitated, as the bundle of wire and glitter seemed to scowl at him reproachfully. Its outstretched hand held a wand.

His gaze followed the direction in which the gently glowing tip of the wand was pointing. The passage of car tyres over the concrete floor had scattered it a little, but the trail of glitter was still easy to see.

There was only one person who could have done this, and he’d been avoiding her all week. Slinging his briefcase into the back of his car, and giving the fairy one last baleful stare before he locked it in the glove compartment, he followed the trail of glitter that Cori had laid.

As soon as he stepped onto the frosty path outside the car park, Tom could see where he was headed. It was pretty much impossible not to notice the tiny lights, glimmering amongst the spreading branches of the tree that stood by the main entrance to the hospital. A nurse passed him walking in the other direction, holding a fairy in her hand, the little LED light at the tip of its wand glowing in the darkness.

When he got closer, he saw Cori leaning against the dark shadow of the tree trunk, her face lit up by the twinkle of lights in the branches around her. She did him the courtesy of not pretending to be surprised to see him.

‘People usually find that leaving a note on my desk works.’ Tom was trying hard not to be enchanted by this method of catching his attention.

‘Do they?’ She grinned up at him, her eyes dark in the shadows. ‘You seemed so very busy.’

He supposed he deserved that. Each day that he’d transferred his meeting with Cori onto his ‘to do’ list for tomorrow, it had been easier to put it off. When Friday had come, the difficult problem of what exactly he should say to her had seemed quite naturally to fit into next week’s timetable instead of this week’s.

‘Okay.’ He was in the wrong and if it had been anyone else Tom would have apologised. But an apology was meaningless unless one intended to change in some way, and right now changing his mind was out of the question. ‘So what’s the point of all this?’

She folded her arms across her chest, looking up at him. ‘You’re my point.’

A sudden breathless feeling seemed to spread heat across his chest. ‘How, exactly?’

Cori shrugged. ‘I know you have your reservations about my effectiveness in the unit …’ A little quiver in her voice told Tom that this mattered to her.

‘I have no doubts whatever about your effectiveness.’ Tom glanced at the fairies, cavorting around them in the tree. Some touch of magic had turned them from confections of wire and glitter into personalities, each one thrilling with life. There was a small group obviously arguing about something. Some preened themselves, and others beckoned watchers closer, looking no doubt to cast some kind of spell on them.

‘Then … what?’ She stared at him, nonplussed.

It seemed that she needed to hear him say this. He couldn’t for the life of him think why, but if it would get her off his back, then he was more than happy to oblige. ‘Look, Cori, your CV is very impressive, your work is great and the kids are enjoying it …’

‘You haven’t seen any of my work yet.’ She looked ready for a staring match. From somewhere, the craving to respond hit him, the urge to look deep into those violet eyes, and break down all her defences.

‘I do take a look around the unit once in a while. And I quite often talk to my patients, as well.’ Tom resisted the temptation to add that talking to children was a damn sight easier than navigating the uneasy waters of adult office politics. ‘I can see that you’ve been making a difference …’

‘And making a difference is a good thing, isn’t it?’

Tom wondered if she was deliberately playing dumb, or she really didn’t know. Surely she knew that the funding had been cut. It was impossible that no one had told her.

‘You have the potential to be a real asset for the unit, Cori. But now that we have no funding for a long-term appointment, and it’s just this eight weeks …’

She was staring at him as if he’d just grown a pair of wings and was about to flutter off into the branches with the fairies. Her mouth formed an ‘O’, and she covered it with her gloved hand. ‘So … There’s no permanent post … after these eight weeks are over?’

‘No. I’m sorry. Once your work placement is finished, there are no plans for any permanent post until next year at the earliest. Didn’t the scheme supervisor tell you that?’

She shook her head and abruptly turned away, as if there was something she wanted to hide from him. Disbelief, maybe. Tears? Anger? It was difficult to say, and, if he was honest, he would rather not have to deal with any of those emotions. He should go now, let her think about things over the weekend and they could talk again about what she wanted to do on Monday morning.

‘Hey, Tom! What’s going on? Can anyone join in?’ A voice came from behind him and Tom turned to see a couple of off-duty nurses, one of whom was trying to draw his attention to a little girl, transfixed by the lights in the tree and trying to escape her father’s grip on her hand. It seemed that they had just come from A and E, because the man also carried a younger child with a bulky dressing on her arm.

Cori had already seen them and was moving towards them. ‘Would they like to come and take a look?’ She spoke to the man first, and when he nodded she bent down to the little girl at his side. ‘If you want, you can take a fairy home.’

The answer to that was a clear and overwhelming yes. She led the little girl under the sparkling canopy, and her father followed, the child in his arms reaching up with her uninjured hand to touch the fairies. It was touching, heartwarming, and Tom wanted to be a part of the magic that Cori was able to create, more than he could say. Which was exactly why it would be much better if he went home. Now.