Читать книгу Resisting Her Rebel Doc - Joanna Neil, Joanna Neil - Страница 7

‘HOW ARE YOU FEELING, Mum? Are you in any pain?’ Caitlin sat by the bedside and reached for her mother’s hand, squeezing it gently. It upset her to see how pale and drawn she looked.

‘I’m okay, sweetheart. They gave me something for the pain. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m just so glad to see you, but I’m sorry you were pulled away from your work.’ Her mother tried to stifle a yawn and closed her eyes fleetingly. ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me … I’m so tired.’

Caitlin smiled reassuringly. ‘I expect there was a sedative in the injection you had. The nurse told me it won’t be too long now before you go for your operation. That’s good—they seem to be looking after you really well. I’m very pleased about that.’

Her mother nodded, causing the soft brown waves of her hair to flutter gently. ‘They’ve all been so kind, explaining everything to me, telling me to take it easy and saying how I shouldn’t fret. I can’t help it, though—I keep thinking about the animals back home.’ She frowned and Caitlin could see that she was starting to become agitated. ‘They need to be fed and the crops have to be watered. It hasn’t rained for a couple of days. With this warm, sunny weather everything will dry out.’

‘I’ll see to all of that,’ Caitlin promised. ‘You don’t need to stress yourself about any of it. All you have to do is concentrate on getting better.’

‘Oh, bless you—but there are so many things …’ Her mother’s brow creased with anxiety. ‘You don’t know about Ruffles’ sores. He’s the rabbit—someone brought him to me after they found him wandering in their garden.’ She sighed. ‘He needs a special lotion putting on his back. I should have collected it from the vet—I forgot to bring it home with me the other day. And the quail needs his claws clipping—he’s another one a neighbour brought to me in a bit of a state. I was going to see to the clipping today—’ She broke off, her breathing becoming laboured.

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ Caitlin said in a soothing voice. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll see to all of it and if anything else comes up I’ll deal with that too.’ She couldn’t help but respect her mother for the way she coped with the smallholding, seeing to repairs, harvesting the crops and looking after various animals. Her mother had had a lot to cope with since she’d been widowed when Caitlin was a teenager, but she’d accepted the way things were, set to and got on with it. She was an incredible woman. ‘Trust me,’ Caitlin murmured. ‘I just need to know that you’re all right. Everything else will be fine.’

Her mother smiled wearily but she seemed comforted. ‘I’m so glad you’re home, Caity. I mean, I’m sorry for the reason for it—for this trouble with Matt, that must be so hard for you—but it’ll be wonderful to have you close by.’

Caitlin patted her hand. ‘Me too. I’m glad to be with you.’ Even so, a faint shudder passed through her at the mention of Matt’s name. She didn’t want to think about him, and did her best to push him from her mind, but it was difficult.

She watched her mother drift in and out of sleep. It was worrying, not knowing how the surgery would go … It was a big operation … She’d already lost her father to a heart attack and she didn’t want to lose her mother too.

She shook off those unreasonable fears. After the surgery her mother would need physiotherapy and would have to use crutches or a walker for some weeks or months.

‘Oh, is she asleep?’ A young porter came over to the bedside and spoke softly, giving Caitlin a friendly smile.

‘She’s drowsy, I think.’

‘That’s okay. It’s for the best. It’s time to take her to Theatre.’

Caitlin nodded and lightly stroked her mother’s hair. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up,’ she murmured, and the young man carefully wheeled his patient away.

‘The operation could take up to three hours,’ the nurse told her. ‘You might want to take a walk outside, or go and get something to eat, if you don’t want to go home. I can give you a ring when she’s back in the recovery room, if you like?’

‘Oh, thanks, that’s really kind of you. I do appreciate it,’ Caitlin said. She thought for a moment or two. What should she do? There might be time to go home. But perhaps she ought to follow up on Brodie’s invitation … It was important that she found work quickly, though how she would manage her mother’s day-to-day care when she was back home was another problem.

Decision made, she glanced at the nurse once more. ‘Actually, I think I’ll go over to the children’s unit for a while. Dr Driscoll—the man who came in with her—said he’d show me around.’

‘He’s a doctor?’ The girl’s eyes widened. ‘He must be new around here. I thought I knew most of the staff in the hospital. Wow! Things are looking up!’

Caitlin smiled. That was probably a fairly typical reaction from women where Brodie was concerned. He’d always turned heads. Perhaps she’d better get used to seeing that kind of response all over again. Of course, she knew how these women felt. Try as she might to resist him, she wasn’t immune to his seductive charm.

She made her way to the children’s unit, uneasily conscious of the quivering in her stomach now that she was to see him again. It was hard to say why he had this effect on her, but it had always been the same. There was something about him that jolted all her senses, spinning them into high alert the minute she set eyes on him.

The children’s wards were on the ground floor of the hospital, a bright and appealing place with colourful walls, decorative ceiling tiles and amusing animal designs on the floor. There were exciting murals created to distract the children from the scariness of a hospital environment, and she noticed that the nurses were wearing patterned plastic aprons over their uniforms.

‘Hi there.’ The staff nurse came to greet her as she walked up to reception. ‘I saw you admiring our wall paintings. They’re very recent additions—Dr Driscoll brought in artists to do them the first week he started here.’

‘Really?’ Caitlin was astonished by that piece of news. ‘My word, he doesn’t let the grass grow under his feet, does he?’

‘Too right. I heard he’d been talking with designers while he was working out his notice at his previous hospital. We all love the changes he’s made. It’s only been a few weeks and everything’s so different here.’ She paused by the entrance to the observation ward. ‘You must be Caitlin,’ she said with a smile. ‘Am I right?’

‘Well, yes …’ Puzzled, Caitlin frowned. ‘How did you know?’

The nurse’s bright eyes sparkled. ‘Dr Driscoll asked me to look out for you—he said I wouldn’t be able to miss you. You had glorious hair, he said, beautiful auburn curls, and he told me what you were wearing. He’s with a patient in Forest right now but he said to send you along.’ Still smiling, she led the way. All the wards, Caitlin discovered, were divided into bays with names derived from the environment, like Forest, Lakeside, Beechwood.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Brodie murmured, looking across the room, his mouth curving briefly as Caitlin entered the ward. ‘I’m glad you could make it.’

She smiled in acknowledgment. He looked good, and the muscles in her midriff tightened involuntarily in response. He was half sitting on the bed. One long leg extended to the floor, the material of his trousers stretched tautly over his muscular thigh; the other leg was bent beneath him so as not to crowd out his small patient, a thin boy of around two years old.

‘This lady is a doctor like me, Sammy. She’s come to see how we’re doing.’

Sammy didn’t react. Instead, he lowered his head and remained silent, looking at the fresh plaster cast on his leg. Brodie sent him a quizzical glance. He silently indicated to Caitlin to take a seat by the bedside.

‘His mother’s with the nurse at the moment,’ he said quietly. ‘She’s talking to her about the break in his leg bone and advising her on painkillers and so on.’

Caitlin nodded and went to sit down. She felt sorry for the little boy. With that injury perhaps it was no wonder the poor child didn’t feel like responding.

Brodie turned his attention back to Sammy. ‘Do you want to see my stethoscope?’ he asked, showing it to the infant, letting him hold the instrument. ‘If I put the disc on my chest, like this, I can hear noises through these earpieces … see?’ He demonstrated, undoing a couple of buttons on his shirt and slipping the diaphragm through the opening. The little boy watched, his curiosity piqued in spite of his anxieties.

‘Oh,’ Brodie said, feigning surprise, ‘I can hear a bump, bump, bump. Do you want to listen?’

The boy nodded, leaning forward to allow Brodie carefully to place the earpieces in his ears.

His eyes widened. Brodie moved the diaphragm around and said, ‘Squeaks and gurgles, gurgles and squeaks. Do you want to listen to your chest?’

Sammy nodded slowly and, when Brodie carefully placed the disc on the boy’s chest, the child listened, open-mouthed. He still wasn’t talking but clearly he was intrigued.

‘Do you think I could have a listen?’ Brodie asked and he nodded.

Brodie ran the stethoscope over Sammy’s chest once more. ‘Hmm. Just like me, lots of funny squeaks and crackles,’ he said after a while, folding the stethoscope and putting it in his pocket. ‘Thanks, Sammy.’ He picked up the boy’s chart from the end of the bed and wrote something on it, getting to his feet and handing the folder to the nurse who was assisting.

A moment later, he glanced back at the child. ‘The nurse will help you to put your shirt back on and then you can lie back and try to get some rest. Your mummy will be back soon. Okay?’

Sammy nodded.

Caitlin followed as Brodie walked away from the bed and spoke quietly to the nurse. ‘There’s some infection there, I think, so we’ll start him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic and get an X-ray done. He’s very thin and pale,’ he added. ‘I’m a bit concerned about his general health as well as the injury to his leg—I think we’ll keep him in here under observation for a few days.’

‘Okay.’

He left the room with Caitlin but at the door she turned and said quietly, ‘Bye, Sammy.’

The infant looked at her shyly, not answering, and as they walked out into the corridor Brodie commented briefly, ‘He seems to be very withdrawn. No one’s been able to get a natural response from him.’

‘How did he come to break his leg?’

‘His parents said he fell from a climbing frame in the back garden. He’ll be in plaster for a few weeks.’ He frowned. ‘The worry is, there was evidence of earlier fractures when we did X-rays. He was treated at another hospital for those, but the consultant there brought in a social worker.’

She looked at him in shock. ‘Do you think it might be child abuse?’

‘It’s a possibility, and the fact that he’s so quiet and withdrawn doesn’t help. I’d prefer to make some more checks, though, before involving the police.’

She shook her head. ‘I just can’t imagine why anyone would hurt a child. It’s unbearable.’

‘Yes, it is. But Sammy’s parents do seem caring, if a little naive, and at least he’ll be safe here in the meantime.’

They went back to the main reception area and she tried to push the boy’s plight to the back of her mind as Brodie began showing her around the unit. Each ward was set out in a series of small bays that clustered around a central point housing the nursing station. He stopped to check up on various patients as they went along.

‘It’s a beautifully designed children’s unit,’ she remarked some time later as they stopped off at the cafeteria to take a break for coffee.

‘That’s true,’ he agreed, ‘But I think there are things we can do to make it even better for the patients and their families. There are some children—like Sammy, perhaps—who need more than medicine and good nursing care to help them to get well. I want to do what I can to help them feel good about themselves.’

She sent him an oblique glance. ‘That’s a tall order,’ she murmured, but perhaps if anyone could do it he could. He certainly seemed to have the determination to set things in motion. But then, he’d always had boundless energy and drive, even though he might have used it to the wrong ends years ago when he was a teenager.

‘Well, if I’m to be any good at my job, I need to feel I’m making a difference,’ he said. ‘It’s important to me.’

She studied him thoughtfully. He was an enigma—so focused, so different from the restless, cynical young man she had known before. ‘That must be why you’ve come so far in such a short time. Your career obviously means a lot to you.’

‘Yes, it does … very much so. I’ve always aimed at getting as far as I can up the ladder. I try to make all the improvements I can to a place where I work and then move on—at least, that’s how it’s been up to now.’

So he probably wouldn’t be staying around here once he’d made his mark. She frowned. But this time he’d bought a house and he planned to do it up—would that make a difference to his plans? Probably not. Houses could be sold just as easily as they’d been bought.

He finished his coffee and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. ‘I must go and look in on another young patient,’ he murmured in a faintly apologetic tone.

‘That’s okay. I’ve enjoyed shadowing you, seeing how you work.’

He looked at her steadily. ‘So, do you think you might want to work with us?’

She nodded. ‘Yes—but only on a part-time basis to begin with, if that’s possible. I’ll need to be close at hand for my mother when she’s back at home.’

He smiled. ‘I can arrange that.’

‘Good.’ Her phone rang just then, and after listening for a while, she told him, ‘My mother’s in the recovery ward. I need to go and see how she’s doing.’

‘Of course.’ He sent her a concerned glance. ‘I hope she’s all right. I know how worried you must be about her.’ He went with her to the door of the recovery ward. ‘Perhaps I’ll see you later on, back at home?’

‘I expect so.’ She wasn’t planning ahead, just taking one step at a time. It seemed like the best way to proceed at the moment. ‘Thanks for showing me around, Brodie,’ she said. ‘Your children’s unit is a really wonderful place and everyone involved with it is so dedicated. If children have to be in hospital, I think they’re lucky to be here rather than in any other unit.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’ He smiled at her, pressing the buzzer to alert a nurse to release the door lock. ‘It’s been good meeting up with you again, Caitlin.’ Somehow they had ended up standing close together, his arm brushing hers, and her whole body began to tingle in response. She didn’t know how to cope with the strange feelings that suddenly overwhelmed her. It was bewildering, this effect he had on her. She loved Matt. How could she be experiencing these sensations around another man?

As soon as the door swung open she moved away from him, going into the ward. ‘Thanks for coming with me and showing me the way,’ she murmured, sending him a last, quick glance.

At last she could breathe more easily … But she hadn’t been the only one to be affected by their momentary closeness to one another; she was sure of it. His awareness was heightened too. She’d seen it in his slight hesitation, the way his glance had lingered on her, and now she felt his gaze burning into her as she walked away from him.

How was it going to be, having Brodie living nearby? Part of her was apprehensive, worried about how things might turn out. After all, it was one thing to contemplate working with him, but having him as a neighbour could end up being much more than she’d bargained for.

She couldn’t quite get a handle on what it was that bothered her about the situation, exactly. Over the last few weeks her world had been shaken to its foundations by the way Matt had behaved. She was unsettled, off-balance, totally out of sync. In her experience having Brodie close by could only add to her feelings of uncertainty. He was a spanner in the works, an unknown quantity.

She frowned. Perhaps the neighbour dilemma would only last for a short time, while her mother recovered from surgery. After that she could find a place of her own, away from Brodie, but near enough so that she could keep an eye on her mother and at the same time maintain her independence.

The nurse in charge of the recovery ward showed her to her mother’s bedside. ‘She’s very drowsy, and unfortunately she’s feeling nauseous, so it might be best for you to keep the visit short. She’ll probably be more up to talking to you in the morning.’

Caitlin nodded. ‘Okay.’ She asked cautiously, ‘Did the operation go well?’

‘It did. The surgeon placed screws across the site of the fracture to hold everything in place and that all went quite satisfactorily. Your mother will need to stay in hospital for a few days, as you probably know, but we’ll try to get her walking a few steps tomorrow. It seems very soon to get her on her feet, I know, but it’s the best thing to do to get her on the mend.’

‘All right. Thanks.’ It was a relief to know that the major hurdle was over. Now the hard work of rehabilitation would begin.

Caitlin went to sit by her mother’s bedside for a while but, as the nurse had said, she was very sleepy, feeling sick and wasn’t up to saying very much. ‘I’ll leave you to get some rest, Mum,’ Caitlin said after a while. ‘I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.’

She took a deep breath and left the hospital. At least her mother had come through the operation all right. That was a huge relief. She could relax a little, now, knowing that she was being well looked after.

On the way home she called in at the vet’s surgery to pick up the lotion that her mother had mentioned earlier.

‘It’s a mite infection,’ the veterinary nurse told her after looking at the notes on the computer. ‘You can’t see the mites on the rabbit’s skin, they’re so tiny, but you might see dander being moved about.’ She made a wry face. ‘That’s why the condition’s sometimes known as “walking dandruff”.’

Caitlin pulled a comical face at that, accepting the box containing the lotion that the nurse gave her.

‘The vet gave Ruffles an injection,’ the nurse said. ‘But you need to put a few drops of the lotion on the back of his neck to get rid of any mites that are left. I think Mrs Braemar forgot to take it with her when she came here yesterday. He’ll need another injection in eight days’ time. Meanwhile, you could comb him to get rid of any loose fur and dander.’

‘I’ll do that. Thanks.’

Caitlin drove home through lanes lined with hedgerows, eventually passing over the bridge across the lock where brightly painted narrowboats were moored by the water’s edge. Soon after that she came to a sleepy, picturesque village, a cluster of white-painted cottages with russet tiled roofs and adorned with vibrant hanging baskets spilling over with masses of flowers.

Her former family home was about half a mile further on, a rambling old house set back from the road, protected by an ancient low brick wall. There was one neighbouring property—Brodie’s—but otherwise the two houses were surrounded by open countryside, giving them a magnificent view of the rolling hills of the beautiful Chilterns.

Trees and flowering shrubs surrounded the front and sides of her mother’s house, adding glorious touches of colour around a lush, green lawn. Caitlin gave a gentle sigh of satisfaction. She always felt good when she returned home. Here was one place where she felt safe, sheltered.

Her old bedroom was just as she’d left it the last time she’d been here, about three weeks ago, except that her mother had laid a couple of books on her bedside table in readiness for her homecoming. Caitlin’s mouth flattened a little. That had been unexpectedly brought forward by her mother’s fall. She’d talked to her boss about it and he’d said she could take compassionate leave instead of working out her notice. It was a relief to know she had no worries there, at least.

She went into the farmhouse kitchen and made herself a snack of homemade soup from a tureen she found in the fridge, eating it with buttered bread rolls. The soup was made from fresh vegetables that her mother grew in the large kitchen garden out the back, and as she ate it Caitlin was filled with nostalgia. She had loved growing up here, having her friends to stay and her cousins to visit.

It was sad, then, that her cousin Jenny should be the one to steal the man she loved. Her fingers clenched on the handle of her spoon. How could things have turned out this way, leaving all her hopes and dreams cruelly shattered?

She pushed away her soup bowl and started to clear the table. Keeping busy was probably the best thing she could do right now. She made a start on various chores around the house, seeing to the laundry and collecting a few clothes and necessities to take into hospital for her mother. When she had done all she could in the house, she went outside to water the crops, and after that she made a start on the animal feeds.

True to form, as with everything that had happened so far today, she discovered from the outset things weren’t going quite to plan. As she approached the hen house there was a sudden honking sound, an awful shrieking that made her cover her ears and look around to see what on earth was going on.

A trio of buff-coloured geese came rushing towards her, flapping their wings and cackling loudly. The male bird—she assumed he was male, from his aggressive manner—hissed at her and made angry, threatening gestures with his beak, while the other two kept up a noisy squawking.

‘Go away! Shoo!’ Her counter-attack made them stop for a second or two, but then the threats started all over again and she looked around in vain for a stick of some sort that she could wave at them. The way things were going, they weren’t going to let her anywhere near the hen house.

‘Get back! Shoo!’ She tried again, frantically trying to keep them at bay for the next few minutes.

‘Are you having trouble?’ To her relief, she saw Brodie striding rapidly down the path towards her. Perhaps he would know how to stop the birds from attacking. ‘I heard the racket they were making, so I came to see what’s happening.’

‘I don’t think they want me around,’ she said, concentrating her efforts on warding off the gander. ‘In fact, I know they don’t.’

‘They’re protecting their territory. Flap your arms at them and hiss back … You need to show them who’s boss.’

She did as he suggested, waving her arms about and making a lot of noise. Brodie joined in, and to her amazement the geese began to back off. The gander—the male bird—was the last to give way, but eventually he too, saw that she meant business.

‘Well done!’ Brodie said approvingly when the birds had retreated. ‘They’re not usually an aggressive breed, but the males can be bullies sometimes, and you have to show them you’re bigger and more fierce than they are. I’d say you’ve won that one!’

‘Well, let’s hope I don’t have to go through that palaver every time I want to feed the hens. At least I’ll be prepared next time.’ She was breathing fast after her exertions and she was sure her cheeks must have a pink glow to them. ‘I’d no idea Mum had bought some new birds.’

‘She liked the idea of having goose eggs and thought the geese might sound a warning if any foxes came sniffing around.’

‘Ah. I guess they’re doing what she wanted, then. They’re guarding the place.’

Perhaps he saw that she’d had enough of trouble for one day because he came up close to her and gently laid an arm around her shoulders. ‘It hasn’t been the best homecoming for you, has it? How about you finish up here and then come over to my place for a cold drink?’

‘I … I don’t know …’ She was suddenly flustered, very conscious of his long body next to hers, yet at the same time strangely grateful for the warm comfort of his embrace.

He’d changed into casual chinos and a short-sleeved cotton shirt that revealed his strong biceps. The shirt was undone at the neck, giving a glimpse of his tanned throat.

‘I … um … there’s a lot to do; I still have to find the quail and clip his claws.’ She pushed back the curls that clung damply to her forehead and cheek. ‘I’ve never done it before, so it could take me a while to sort things out—once I manage to catch him, that is.’

‘I can do that for you. He’s in with the hens; your mother pointed him out to me a few days ago. She said wherever he came from, he hadn’t been able to run around and scratch to keep his claws down, so that’s why they need doing. It’s not a problem. I know where she keeps the clippers.’

‘Oh.’ That would be a terrific help, one less problem for her to manage. ‘Okay, then, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’ Her excuses obviously weren’t going to pass muster with him. Anyway, a cold drink was really, really tempting right now when she was all hot and bothered. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

‘Good, that’s settled, then. I do a great watermelon and apple blend. I remember you used to like that.’ He released her, but her skin flushed with heat all over again at the memory of hot summer days spent with her friends in flower-filled meadows.

Brodie and his brother had often come with them as they’d wandered aimlessly through the fields and by the river. They would stop to share sandwiches and drink juice or pop they’d brought with them. They had been fun days, days of laughter and innocent, stolen kisses in the time before Brodie had unexpectedly, disastrously, gone off the rails.

Together, they finished off the feeding then she watched as Brodie deftly caught the quail and carefully set about trimming the tip of each claw. ‘These little birds get stressed easily,’ he said, ‘So it’s best to get them used to being handled.’ He placed him back down in the pen and the bird scampered off as fast as he could. ‘He’ll be all right now. I doubt he’ll need clipping again now that he has a solid floor to run on and plenty of scratching litter.’

‘Thanks for that.’ Finished with all the chores for now, Caitlin locked up the pen and together they walked over to his house. It was a lovely big old property with a large, white-painted Georgian extension built on to an original Tudor dwelling. The walls were covered with rambling roses and at the side of the house there was an overgrown tree badly in need of pruning. The front lawn was dotted about with daisies and unkempt shrubs sprawled over the borders.

‘I need to get the garden in order,’ Brodie said ruefully, ‘But I’ve had other priorities up to now, at work and back here.’ He led the way along the path to the back of the house. ‘In estate agent jargon, “in need of some renovation”; that can be interpreted in lots of ways,’ he said with a wry smile.

She nodded, sharing the joke. ‘I’ve always loved this house,’ she said, glancing around. ‘I expect it will need a lot of care and attention to restore it to its former glory, but it’ll be worth it in the end.’

He nodded. ‘I think so too. That’s why I was so pleased when it came on to the market. I took to this house from a very early age. When I was about ten my friends and I used to climb over the wall and steal the apples from the orchard, until one day old Mr Martin caught us. We thought we were in big trouble, but he surprised us. He invited us into the house, gave us cookies and milk, then sent us on our way with a basket full of fruit.’

‘He was a kind old man.’

‘Yes, he was.’ He showed her into the kitchen and she looked around in wonder.

‘You’ve obviously been busy in here,’ she said admiringly. ‘This is all new, isn’t it?’

‘It is. It’s the first room I worked on. I looked into different types of kitchen design and decided I wanted one where there was room for a table and chairs along with an island bar. This way, I can sit down for a meal and look out of the window at the garden; or if I’m feeling in a more casual mood, I can sit at the bar over there and have a cold drink or a coffee or whatever.’

She smiled. ‘I like it, especially the cream colour scheme. You have really good taste.’ She studied him afresh, surprised by the understated elegance of the room.

‘Good taste for a rebel whose idea of fun was to spray graffiti on any accessible wall?’ He laughed. ‘I’ll never forget that day you let rip at me for painting fire-breathing dragons on your mother’s old barn. You handed me a brush and a pot of fence paint and told me to clean it up.’

‘And you told me to forget it because the barn was old and rotting and ready to fall down—but later that night you came back and painted the lot.’

His brow lifted in mock incredulity. ‘You mean, you’ve known all along who did it?’

She laughed. ‘I never thought you were as bad as people said. I knew there was a good person struggling to get out from under all that bravado.’ She’d understood him, up to a point, knowing how much it hurt to lose a parent. She’d turned her feelings inwards but back then Brodie had become more confrontational and forcefully masculine.