Twice as Good

Mrs Neville looked reassured, happily oblivious to the deeper meaning of the exchange. By the time her finger was cleaned up, stitched and dressed, the middle aged patient was clearly smitten with St David’s latest staff member.

‘We’re becoming a regular United Nations here,’ she told him proudly. ‘The last locum was an Indian lady and now we have you. I do love your accent.’

‘You should be used to a bit of a burr.’ Jamie sounded surprised. ‘I understand Janet’s been here for years.’

‘Oh, but that’s different. And your accent is so much stronger!’

Janet dropped the needles and the scalpel Jamie had used to tidy the edges of the wound into the sharps disposal container. Mrs Neville had been enamoured of Oliver ever since she’d started coming to St David’s. Now her allegiance was clearly being transferred without difficulty. She threw a sidelong glance at the object of Mrs Neville’s admiration in time to catch the cheeky, small-boy grin.

Janet closed her eyes for a split second against a wave of despair. That grin! She saw it a dozen times a day on the faces of her sons. She had always loved it and the two little ratbags knew it was the second best way to get around their mother. The best way, of course, were the cuddles and declarations of love. Worked a treat almost every time—especially if accompanied by that cheeky grin. Did she love the facial expression because she loved her sons so much? Or was it because it had subconsciously linked them to the first great love of her life?

Could she cope? How many more links might become obvious over the next six weeks? How many more reminders could she take about how she had once felt about this man? It was hard enough, listening to his voice. Mrs Neville was right. His accent was much stronger than her own. And could she keep the boys a secret? Janet shuddered at even the thought of that problem and turned back into Jamie’s conversation. He was explaining the difference to their patient as he finished easing the finger stall over the dressing.

‘I was born and raised in Glasgow,’ he told Mrs Neville. ‘Janet lived in Edinburgh for her formative years. That’s a much more civilised place.’ Jamie’s tone suggested that civilisation was not necessarily an attribute. ‘Besides, Janet’s been away from her homeland for years. I only arrived last week.’

‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ Mrs Neville asked coyly. ‘Permanently, that is?’

Jamie laughed, a rich sound that caused Janet’s stomach to fold itself into an even tighter knot. ‘I’m only planning on a working holiday, Mrs Neville. I doubt that permanence is something I’ll even consider.’

Huh! Janet flashed him a meaningful glance. No. Permanence wasn’t something that would be high on Jamie McFadden’s agenda. Love them and leave them. Jobs, countries … women. Jamie had caught the glance. His dark brown eyes narrowed slightly as he acknowledged the disparaging line of Janet’s thoughts. She saw a spark of anger then. Whatever challenge he had also interpreted from her glance was going to be risen to.

‘You had an appointment with Dr Bennett, didn’t you, Mrs Neville?’ Jamie’s attention returned swiftly to his patient. ‘I’m afraid she’s tied up at the hospital for a while. Perhaps it’s something I could help you with?’

Mrs Neville blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no! It was nothing urgent, Dr McFadden. I’ll make another appointment for later in the week.’

Janet pressed her lips together firmly as she emptied the bowl of soiled dressings and swabs into the rubbish container. Mrs Neville had been having increasing trouble with a severe case of haemorrhoids. It had been Janet who’d suggested she see their female GP when she’d heard that the over-the-counter preparations weren’t providing any relief.

‘Come and see me at the same time, then,’ Jamie invited. ‘I’d like to check on that finger.’

Mrs Neville’s gratitude at not being pressed into an explanation was patent. ‘I’ll do that, Dr McFadden. And thank you. Thank you so much! My finger doesn’t hurt at all now.’

‘My pleasure.’ Jamie smiled. ‘You’ll find it gets a wee bit sore when the anaesthetic wears off, though. I’m sure Janet can give you some tablets.’

‘Of course,’ Janet murmured. She smiled at Mrs Neville but the woman’s gaze was still firmly glued to Jamie. Oliver Spencer appeared in the doorway. He didn’t appear to notice Janet either.

‘At work already, Jamie? Fantastic!’ He lowered his voice as Janet selected some painkillers from a nearby cupboard. ‘Could I get you to see another patient? She’s a fifty-four-year-old woman with a case of postherpetic neuralgia. She’s in a lot of pain. She had a dose of shingles three months ago and …’ Oliver’s voice faded as Jamie followed him out.

Janet handed Mrs Neville the packet of tablets. ‘You can take two up to every four hours,’ she instructed. ‘But don’t take any more than that and make sure you keep your finger completely dry. I’ll make an appointment for you to see Sophie on Thursday or Friday.’

‘And Dr McFadden,’ Mrs Neville reminded her firmly. She smiled rather dreamily at Janet. ‘Isn’t he wonderful? You’re so lucky to have found him!’

‘Mmm.’ Janet’s smile was automatic. She could hear an echo of Sharlene’s voice—a bitter memory that hadn’t surfaced for years. ‘Oh, you’re so lucky, Jan,’ her best friend—and room-mate—had sighed. ‘Where did you find him?’

Janet steered Mrs Neville towards the reception counter. ‘Sandy will fix you up,’ she said distractedly. ‘Call me if you have any problems.’

The afternoon settled into a blissful period of calm. Janet found she had time to make her recall appointments as Sandy took phone calls, welcomed new arrivals and sorted out the accounts of those leaving. After the miserable chaos of the morning, Janet couldn’t believe how smoothly the clinic was running. They even had time for a quick afternoon teabreak when Sophie arrived back from the hospital.

‘How is Mr Collins?’ Janet queried, handing Sophie a mug of coffee.

‘Amazingly happy.’ Sophie shook her head wonderingly. ‘I left him sitting up in the coronary care unit, surrounded by monitors and shouting at a poor house surgeon.’

‘What had the house surgeon done?’ Oliver grinned.

‘Nothing. Mr Collins lost his hearing aid somewhere between here and A and E.’

‘At least he can shout,’ Janet observed. ‘I had my doubts there for a while.’

Sophie chuckled. ‘Mr Collins has had an ‘‘out of body’’ experience. I heard all about it at least three times.’

‘What—tunnels and bright lights?’

‘More like kind of musical,’ Sophie said thoughtfully. ‘A full orchestra, he said.’

‘Playing hymns?’

‘No.’ Sophie chuckled again. ‘He said it sounded like the Crusaders’ theme song. What is it? ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’?’

Janet nodded. ‘Vangelis, 1492. The boys have got it on tape and it gets hammered in our house whenever there’s a big rugby game coming up.’

‘Anyway.’ Sophie sat down with a sigh. ‘Mr Collins is alive to tell the tale, thank goodness. I’m exhausted.’ She looked up as Jamie McFadden entered the staffroom. ‘Hi, Jamie!’ Sophie’s face brightened. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello properly. Come and sit down and have a coffee.’

‘Thanks.’ Jamie sat down beside Sophie. ‘I’ll pass on the coffee, though. I only drink tea.’

‘Just like Janet!’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘Must be a Scottish thing.’

‘That’s not all that Jamie and Janet have in common,’ Oliver informed his wife. ‘They knew each other in Glasgow.’

Sophie’s eyebrows shot up.

‘We just worked together in the same hospital.’ Janet placed a cup of tea in front of Jamie. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘What an amazing coincidence,’ Sophie breathed.

Janet frowned. It was indeed. A little too amazing. Had Jamie McFadden found out she was here somehow? Through her sister, perhaps? Liz had been planning a return to the UK at some stage. What else might he know about? Janet swallowed nervously. ‘You don’t take sugar, do you, Jamie?’ she queried politely.

‘I do, actually.’ Jamie’s smile was equally polite. ‘But I’ll get it. You sit down.’ Jamie got to his feet with an easy grace and headed towards the kitchen bench. ‘How did your patient get on, Sophie?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘He’s doing well. They were discussing the possibility of some angioplasty when I left. Mr Collins was very enthusiastic.’

‘Was he?’ Jamie’s eyebrows rose expressively. ‘Invasive interventional therapy isn’t usually an attractive option.’

Oliver laughed. ‘Our Mr Collins isn’t a usual patient. He has a keen interest in medicine—especially when he can apply it to himself.’

‘Just wait until Josh and Toni hear about this.’ Sophie grinned. ‘We’ll have to take every complaint seriously from now on.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll never feel the same when I hear ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’.’

Jamie looked confused.

‘It’s a rather stirring piece of music which our local rugby team has adopted as a theme song,’ Sophie explained. ‘Everybody in Christchurch—the whole of Canterbury, in fact—recognises it. Mr Collins reckons he heard it during his near-death experience.’