Читать книгу Hired: GP and Wife - Judy Campbell, Judy Campbell - Страница 8

A DOG barking and the sound of horses’ hooves on the road woke Terry up with a start from a deep sleep. For a moment she panicked, thinking she was back in London, but there was no sound of traffic and no curtains at the window to cut off the light streaming onto her bed. She relaxed back again. Of course, she was in a little cottage on Scuola—about seven hundred miles away from her old home and quite safe. She searched for her watch on the bedside table and squinted at the face with amazed horror. It was nine-thirty—she must have slept for twelve hours.

Gradually the previous day’s events began to unravel through her mind. It had been a day of mixed emotions, leaving her beloved London, meeting Atholl Brodie in the most dramatic of circumstances, then finding out he was the man she was going to be working with.

She lay for a second reflecting on just what kind of a man he was—outspoken, decisive, but probably fair enough in his dealings with people. And, of course, there were his looks…deep blue eyes in a strong good-looking face swam into her mind. She sighed and swung her legs over the bed. Hadn’t she learned that drop-dead gorgeous men had too much confidence, things came too easily to them? She was certainly not about to stray into dangerous emotional territory again—especially in a working relationship. But there was a peculiar little flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him later.

She padded over to the open window and looked out on a brilliant day, catching her breath at the view. The sun was shining on the distant vista of a blue sea she could see over the fields, and just down by the side of the cottage there was a stream that tumbled and sparkled its way under a little bridge and towards a copse. Through the open window drifted the sweet fresh smells of early spring and the sound of the chattering water.

‘A far cry from London,’ she murmured, peering down to see if Atholl’s car had gone from the front of the cottage. There was no sign of it, so he must have gone to work.

There was a scrabbling noise at the door and Shona trotted in, coming over to nuzzle Terry and then lie on her side in a patch of warm sunlight. Terry had a quick wash and threw on some clothes from her case, which Atholl had placed on the small landing. She squinted into the tiny mirror in the darkest corner of the little room as she flicked a brush through her hair. Her image looked back at her—large eyes framed by wayward short curly fair hair. Funny how a slight change in hair colour and cut could make a face look quite different, she thought. She turned to the dog looking up at her with interest.

‘Right, Shona, let’s see what’s for breakfast, shall we?’

The kitchen was a tiny room with just enough space for a sink, fridge and oven. On the working top was a note. ‘If you feel rested enough to come to the surgery, please take my uncle’s car parked in the layby just down the road. Keys in drawer.’

After a cup of black coffee and a fruitless hunt for anything more sustaining than a stale piece of bread, Terry put on a jacket and made her way to the car.

‘Bye, Shona,’ she called to the dog, who was watching her through the window. ‘If I don’t find my way I may be back soon!’

In fact, it was an easy ten-minute drive to The Sycamores. The worst part was parking the car in between a builder’s lorry and Atholl’s Land Rover in the drive. The house did indeed look rundown, Terry thought, taking a more detailed look at the paintwork on the windows, the battered front door and the small neglected border covered with weeds.

‘I could easily make that look better when the flat’s ready,’ she murmured to herself as she went into the hall.

The waiting room was crowded and there was no one at Reception.

‘The doctor’s running late—you’ll have to wait a wee while,’ said an elderly man helpfully, by the door.

‘I’m here to work, actually.’ Terry smiled, making her way through the room. A battery of eyes watched her go behind the reception counter while she waited for Isobel to materialise. She looked at the disparate crowd of people who gazed curiously back at her. Hopefully soon she would get to know them, and start to feel part of another community.

‘Ah, we wondered when you’d make an appearance!’ said Isobel, coming into the room with an armful of post.

Terry was getting used to Isobel’s forthright manner and pulled a rueful face. ‘Sorry I’m late. I had the best sleep I’ve had in ages, though. Now I’m ready, willing and able…’

Isobel nodded. ‘Aye, well, you had reason to be tired, didn’t you? Atholl told me about the accident you were involved in yesterday—quite a baptism of fire in your new home!’ She pursed her lips. ‘And talking of home, did you find anything for breakfast in that fridge of his?’

‘Not a lot.’ Terry laughed. ‘But I’m fine. Fortunately there was plenty of coffee.’

Isobel made a tutting sound. ‘I’ll get you something soon. No one can work on an empty stomach—any doctor should know that. Now, Atholl says would you use the room at the end of the passage—he’ll be through directly to show you how the programme on the computer works and then I’ll send your first patient through.’

Terry looked around her new surgery. It was quite a large room with an examining couch at one side, a washbasin and two enormous cupboards on the other, and a window with a crooked blind over it at the end. A bookcase filled with weighty medical tomes and magazines was squeezed near the door. Probably it was normally Euan’s room, she surmised. There were a few yellowing photographs on the wall of groups of students, and surely one of Euan himself, a stern white-haired gentleman glaring into the room, looking very like Atholl might do in years to come. She opened a drawer in the desk and smiled when she saw the contents—a lipstick and eyeliner wasn’t anything Uncle Euan would have use for. The last locum must have been a woman!

There was a tap at the door and Atholl entered. He looked much smarter than yesterday in a dark suit and tie, his white shirt emphasising his tanned face. From a purely objective point of view, Terry told herself, he certainly was one eye-catching guy.

Atholl’s eyes flicked over her, completed a quick survey of her navy trouser suit and the pink silk shirt she was wearing under the jacket. She looked delectable, he thought wryly. He’d had time to reflect in the last twelve hours on what a fool he’d been yesterday, rushing off rudely like a madman just because he was frightened of a rerun of the situation he’d had with Zara. It wasn’t Terry’s fault that she was so damned attractive and the poor girl hadn’t had a very welcoming reception. If they were going to work well together it was imperative that he maintain a cordial working relationship with her. From now on he’d try and behave sensibly—but keep his distance.

‘You slept all right, then?’ he asked. ‘You’d gone to bed by the time I got back.’

He sounded more relaxed than he had the day before when he’d roared off after depositing her at the cottage, Terry thought with relief.

‘Yes, I slept like a log. I’m sorry I was so late. I’d no idea it was halfway through the morning when I woke up.’

He shook his head dismissively. ‘It doesn’t matter—you were tired.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘I’m sorry about the lack of food. Isobel’s just been giving me a hard time about that. I’d no time to shop as I was up at the crack of dawn meeting some man from the local health authority who wants us to provide a room for some alternative medicine clinic.’

Terry gathered from his tone that he was totally against that request. She smiled. ‘You can buy me a sandwich at lunchtime if you like.’

‘I’ll do better than that. I’ve got to take some gear over to the outward bound place before lunch. If you come with me you can meet Pete, his wife and the boys. I’ll bring some food and we’ll have it on the way back. The quicker you get to know the area the better.’

‘Sounds great.’

He bent forward to switch on the computer and said, ‘Before I show you the ropes as far as the software we use is concerned, there’s a reporter here to speak to you.’

Terry looked surprised. ‘Whatever for? What can I have to say to him?’

Atholl smiled. ‘It’s about your sterling work yesterday in the car accident. It’ll make good copy. “New young doctor on Scuola saves baby in car accident.”’

‘It certainly wasn’t just me involved—you were as well. What paper is this?’

‘The Scuola Recorder—it’s just a weekly newssheet about local happenings.’

‘I…I don’t know if I really want to be featured,’ Terry said doubtfully.

He shrugged. ‘I know it’s a bit of a bore, but they don’t have much to talk about here and that’s a happy storyline.’

‘I suppose…if people are interested.’

‘I can assure you that a heart-warming article about a new doctor ensures the patients will be very keen to be seen by you! They’re normally a very conservative lot and don’t like change.’

Let’s hope the story won’t spread much further than Scuola, thought Terry. Then shook herself mentally. She’d nothing to fear now, had she? She just had to relax and enjoy her new life.

A few seconds later Atholl ushered in a young gangling lad with red hair and freckles and an eager manner, like a young puppy. He strode towards Terry with his hand held out.

‘Hello, there! Ian Brown, Scuola Recorder. I just wanted a few moments of your time to get the lowdown on the accident yesterday. I believe you were the heroine of the hour, rescuing a baby from a car?’

Terry flicked a look of embarrassment at Atholl, who was watching the interview leaning against the wall with his long legs crossed. ‘There was nothing heroic about it—and, of course, Dr Brodie was very much involved.’

‘It was very dangerous, though. The car could have exploded at any second, isn’t that right?’ persisted Ian.

‘Fortunately all was well.’ Terry smiled. ‘There really isn’t much more to tell. The main thing was that Maisie and little Amy weren’t hurt despite the car being badly crushed.’

‘Of course, of course…but could I just get a little background info? Where you come from, why you’re here…you know the sort of thing?’

Terry smiled brightly. ‘Well, I’m from the South of England.’ She kept it vague. ‘I wanted a change of scene away from the city, somewhere more remote, and Scuola is a beautiful place.’

‘So you you’ve never been here before?’

‘No, but it sounded just perfect.’

Ian’s cheery face raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Bit of a risk isn’t it? Coming to live here without viewing the place first? Jumping into untested waters, as it were…’

‘I’m sure it will work out,’ said Terry firmly. She didn’t want to answer any more probing questions, because they seemed to bring back with startling clarity the reasons that had forced her to come up to Scotland. She sat down behind her desk. ‘Look, I’m afraid I really must get on now. I’m already late for my first day and I know Dr Brodie’s very busy.’

The young man looked disappointed. ‘Well, at least let me take a photo of you both, perhaps with Dr Brodie welcoming his new colleague to the practice…you know the sort of thing.’

Reluctantly Terry allowed Ian to manoeuvre her beside Atholl, and he took several photos of them shaking hands and looking rather self-consciously towards the mobile phone on which he’d taken the pictures.

‘Good!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘You’re very photogenic, Dr Younger—they seem to get smashing-looking lady doctors here! That Dr Grahame who was here before was one bonny lass!’

Atholl scowled, not remarking on Ian’s observations, and snapped, ‘Have you finished, then?’

Terry flicked a glance at Atholl, noting his abrupt change of mood. It had probably been brought on by the cheeky attitude of the young reporter.

‘Would you like to see the photo?’ enquired Ian, holding up his mobile to her. ‘Look, you have to agree, you make a really handsome couple!’

Atholl’s expression became even more surly. ‘For God’s sake, don’t start making things up now,’ he warned him tersely.

Ian Brown grinned, completely unfazed by Atholl’s irritation. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll send you a copy of the article—it’ll be a lovely human-interest story! “Doctors to the rescue!” Sounds good, doesn’t it?’

Atholl and Terry looked at each other dubiously as Ian gave them a cheery wave and went out of the room.

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t allow his imagination to run away with him,’ growled Atholl drily. ‘Give the folk round here a little information and they’ll have us engaged! It doesn’t take much for them to leap to the wrong conclusion.’

‘Rumours can fly around on practically no evidence,’ agreed Terry. ‘It must be hard to keep one’s private life to oneself in a small community, I imagine.’