Read Neurosurgeon...and Mum! Online
Authors: Kate Hardy
Neurosurgeon...and Mum! (3 page)
She did so, and he smiled. ‘That’s fine. I’ll come and see you tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, if it starts to hurt more or your foot feels hotter or colder, or you notice it’s changed colour, ring the surgery straight away—please don’t
wait.’ In his experience, elderly people fell into two camps: the ones who were lonely, desperately wanted company and would ring up if they so much as cut their finger; and those who didn’t want to make a fuss and would leave it until their condition had really deteriorated before they admitted that they needed help. Mrs Poole was definitely one of the latter, or her ulcer wouldn’t have spread so badly.
‘I’ll be fine, Doctor,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
He rather thought he did. ‘I want a promise from you,’ he said, giving her his most charming smile, ‘or I’ll have to go and chat to your neighbours and ask them to set up a roster to check on you every couple of hours between now and my next visit.’
‘You can’t bother them with that!’ She looked aghast.
‘Promise me, then.’ He squeezed her hand gently. ‘I appreciate you want to be independent, which is great, but there is such a thing as being too independent. If you catch a medical condition in the early stages, it’s usually easier and quicker to treat it—and it won’t hurt you as much.’
‘I’m not like that Betty Jacklin—straight on the phone to the surgery, convinced she’s got a brain tumour, every time she has a headache.’ Mrs Poole rolled her eyes.
Tom hid a smile. He’d already been warned about Betty Jacklin, but hadn’t come across her yet. ‘I can’t possibly comment on other patients. I know you wouldn’t call me for something little. But I also know you’re the sort who’s too stubborn to ring when she really ought to.’ He squeezed her hand gently again. ‘And guess which kind of patient I lose more sleep over?’
Mrs Poole sighed. ‘All right. I promise I’ll call you.’
‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do you want me to make you a cup of tea before I go?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have time for that, Doctor.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Actually, I do.’ It would only take a couple of minutes. And if it meant getting her to drink a bit more, he was all for it. Too many of his elderly patients didn’t drink enough and ended up with bladder in-fections—which, if not treated fast enough, led to fever and confusion and being cared for in hospital until the antibiotics did their job, not to mention a huge worry for their families. He believed in pre-empting things where he could. ‘So, if I remember rightly, that’s a dash of milk and half a teaspoon of sugar?’
‘You’re a good lad, Dr Ashby,’ Mrs Poole said. ‘And, with your looks, you must have the women lining up for you.’
Tom just smiled. He hadn’t noticed any line of women—and even if there was one, he wasn’t interested. His daughter came first. And he’d never put himself in the position where his heart could be broken again.
At half past three, Amy was sitting at Joe’s desk, starting to look through the box of Joseph’s papers, when Buster left his position at her feet and bounded through the door, tail wagging.
Clearly Tom was home.
She could hear a child talking. Odd: Tom hadn’t mentioned anything about a child. Unless maybe his wife was doing some extra tuition and one of her pupils had come back with her?
Better get the introductions over with, she thought, and headed out of the office. She followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, noting the child’s rucksack hanging up in the hallway. And she blinked in surprise when she walked into the kitchen. There was a little girl sitting at the table—around eight years old, Amy judged—with a glass of milk
and a book in front of her. She had Tom’s colouring and that same shy, slightly hesitant smile.
Buster pattered across the tiles to her, alerting Tom to the fact that he and the little girl were no longer alone. He turned round and smiled at Amy. ‘Hello, Amy. Let me introduce you. This is Perdita—everyone calls her Perdy.’
Perdy was clearly Tom’s daughter, then, not his wife.
Carrie hadn’t mentioned anyone else. So where was the child’s mother? Was Tom divorced? But Amy knew it wasn’t that common for fathers to be given custody of the children, which meant that the break-up must’ve been messy with a capital M.
No wonder Perdy looked quiet and withdrawn.
Amy remembered another little girl being like that, too. A little girl whose father had been awarded custody. A little girl she’d grown to love so much, as if Millie were her own daughter rather than her intended stepchild-to-be.
But then Colin had suggested that they move to the States, to let Millie see more of her mother. And while Amy had been tying up loose ends in England, thinking that she was going to start a new life with the man and child she loved, Colin had changed his mind. He’d called Amy with the news that he and his ex had decided to give their marriage another go, for their daughter’s sake. That had been hard enough to take; but then he’d added that he thought that a clean break would be the best thing for Millie.
Amy knew it had been the right thing to do, for the little girl’s sake. But it had ripped her world apart, and she’d retreated into work afterwards, concentrating on her career rather than her private life.
Which had worked just fine—until her career had gone so badly wrong, too.
OK, so this wasn’t quite the same. She wasn’t in any
kind of relationship with Tom Ashby. But, right now, she was bone tired and she just didn’t have the strength to help anyone else.
Be polite, smile, but keep your distance, Amy told herself. It isn’t your job to fix this. ‘Hello, Perdy,’ she said, staying exactly where she was.
‘Perdy, this is Miss Rivers.’
Miss rather than Doctor. Did he know that she was a qualified surgeon? Or hadn’t Joe and Carrie told him that she was a medic of any kind? Not that it made much difference. She wasn’t a neurosurgeon any more.
‘Hello, Miss Rivers,’ Perdy said dutifully.
That sounded so stuffy and formal. Completely not how Amy was. For a moment, she was tempted to offer her own first name; then her common sense kicked in.
Keep your distance
. Formality would help her to do that. She gave the little girl a polite smile. ‘Hello.’
‘Joe and Carrie are Miss Rivers’s aunt and uncle. She’s staying here for a while,’ Tom explained.
Perdy looked worried for a moment, and then carefully made her face blank. ‘Does that mean we have to go and find somewhere else to live?’
It sounded as though they’d moved around a bit, and Amy could remember being much happier here as a child because she was settled for the summer instead of dragging round after her parents with nobody to play with. Guilt flooded through her. What was the old saying? What goes around comes around. Joe and Cassie had been kind to her. She really ought to offer the same kindness to Perdy. It wasn’t the little girl’s fault that her presence brought back memories of Millie and a sense of loss that Amy would prefer to suppress.
‘No, darling, it just means we’re sharing the house,’ Tom said, ruffling her hair.
‘So I can still play with Buster?’ Perdy asked.
‘Absolutely,’ Tom reassured her.
Amy should’ve guessed that Perdy would respond to the dog in the same way that Amy herself had responded to Joe and Cassie’s dogs as a child. Guilt twisted in her stomach again. But this wasn’t her problem and she had enough to deal with. She had nothing to offer a lonely little girl. Right now, she had nothing to offer anyone.
‘Are you here on a summer holiday, Miss Rivers?’ Perdy asked.
‘Sort of.’
‘Perdy, you’re asking too many questions,’ Tom said quietly.
The little girl flushed, and shut up.
Amy raised her eyebrows at Tom. OK, so she didn’t particularly want to talk about why she was here, but he could have just distracted his daughter instead of putting her down like that.
He looked right back at her, and Amy found herself flushing as deeply as Perdy when she read the message in his eyes. Just who did Amy Rivers think she was, to judge him?
He had a point. She hadn’t exactly helped matters, had she? And he was clearly trying to do his best with his little girl.
‘I’ll, um, let you get on,’Amy said. ‘I just wanted to introduce myself, that was all. See you later.’ She fled for the sanctuary of Joe’s office.
Though not before she heard Perdy ask Tom, ‘Did she go because of me?’ And she could almost see the wobble in the little girl’s lower lip, the distress on her face.
‘No, honey, of course not. She’s just got things to do,’ Tom said.
Which made Amy feel even more horrible inside. She’d
have to find some middle ground. Surely she could be kind to the little girl, without taking down the barriers round her heart?
She’d make the effort, later.
Just not right now, when all the memories had come back to shred her heart all over again.
T
HAT
evening, after Tom had settled Perdy in bed, he walked into the living room and saw Amy curled up in a chair, reading a book. In Perdy’s favourite chair, Tom noticed, the one with a view through the French doors into the garden. Amy was completely engrossed in the words, just like Perdy always was when she had her nose in a book.
And he was intruding.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were here,’ he said, and began to back away.
She looked up. ‘It’s not a problem. If you want to watch the television or something, that’s fine. You won’t disturb me.’
‘No. But my daughter clearly does.’ The words were out before he could stop them, and he kicked himself mentally as colour shot into her face. Couldn’t he have found a more tactful way to broach the subject?
‘I’m sorry I was a bit abrupt with her,’ Amy muttered.
Tom knew he should accept the apology and leave it. But, now he’d started, he couldn’t stop himself. Amy hadn’t even had dinner with them that evening—she’d made an excuse and shut herself away in the study. And for some reason Perdy had got it into her head that it was because Amy didn’t like her—that she was in the way.
‘She’s eight years old. And it’s not as if she’s a spoiled brat or running wild.’
‘I can see that.’
‘So what is it? You don’t like kids?’
‘It’s not that.’
But she didn’t look him in the eye; it was obvious that there was something she wasn’t telling him. Well, that was her choice. She was an adult, able to make her own decisions; and his main concern was his daughter. ‘Look, I don’t know how long you plan to be here, and I’ll try to keep Perdy out of your way as much as I can, but I’d appreciate it if you could try to be pleasant to her when your paths cross.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Amy’s breath shuddered, as if she was suppressing a sob, and the distress on her face was obvious.
Ah, hell. He’d blundered straight in and made this whole situation worse. Tom raked a hand through his hair. He had to face it, he was hopeless with women. He’d let his wife down, he’d let his daughter down, and now he’d managed to upset the woman he had to share the house with for the next however long. Time to compromise and make the best of this mess. ‘So am I. We’re guests here in your family’s home, and I shouldn’t be having a go at you.’
‘I’m a guest here, too,’Amy said. ‘And you were standing up for your daughter. It’s a parent’s natural reaction.’
He could see the pain in her eyes before she masked it. So was Amy a parent? And, if so, why wasn’t her child with her now?
It was none of his business. He wasn’t going to pry. But he had to say something. Give her an explanation for the way he’d snapped at her, at least. ‘I’m probably being over-protective. It hasn’t been a good year.’
‘Yeah. This year’s been…’ She blew out a breath.
It sounded as if she’d been through the wringer as much as he and Perdy had lately. So maybe they had something in common after all. He sat down. ‘That’s why we came here. This job seemed like the perfect opportunity—somewhere to make a new start.’
His admission made her expression soften slightly. ‘It’s a good place,’ she said. ‘I used to spend my summers here.’
‘Holiday home?’ he guessed.
‘Sort of.’ She grimaced. ‘My parents were always away on lecturing tours, so it meant either being stuck in London with a nanny, or spending the holidays here with Joe and Cassie.’ She smiled, clearly remembering something happy. ‘I loved it here. The house was always full of laughter, and I didn’t have to be quiet in case I disturbed anyone. I had Cassie and Joe and Beth and the boys, I could share their dog—and, best of all, I knew I was here because they wanted me here, not because they were paid to look after me.’
Amy’s childhood sounded very similar to Eloise’s, with ambitious parents who didn’t pay her enough attention. So had she been damaged the same way as Eloise, Tom wondered, making her desperate to save the world to gain her parents’approval? ‘That’s why I became a GP rather than working in a hospital—the hours are more regular, and in the days before the practice started using the after-hours service Eloise and I could usually muddle through school holidays between us and not need to use too much child care.’
‘Eloise being Perdy’s mother, I take it?’
Tom felt the muscle tensing in his jaw. ‘Yes.’ Now he’d opened up this far, no doubt Amy would ask questions. If he told her the rest, she’d start pitying him. And he’d had enough pity to last a lifetime.
To his surprise, Amy uncurled from her chair. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘we need to agree a truce. And some boundaries.’
‘A truce.’ That wasn’t half of what he was tempted to do with this woman. But he had a feeling that both of them were too mixed up to cope with any kind of relationship right now—not to mention the fact that Amy might be involved with someone.
‘I won’t ask you about whatever’s messed up your past,’ she said, ‘if you don’t ask me about mine.’
‘Agreed.’ He paused. ‘And Perdy?’
She curled up again and wrapped her arms round her legs, resting her chin on her knees. ‘I’ll try not to be so abrupt.’
‘Thank you.’ He couldn’t ask any more than that. ‘So do you know how long you’re staying?’
She shrugged. ‘My plans are flexible. You?’