A Gentle Giant

‘Come in?’

‘Come on, then.’

He swung down from the seat, hefting his bag like a handful of feathers, and strode up to the door.

It was answered by a small girl who looked about seven at the most, but turned out to be Trudy, small for her age because of her temperamental health.

‘Hello, Dr Rob!’ she said with a gappy smile, and he ruffled her hair and hugged her against his side with one long arm.

‘How’s my girl, then? What’s this I hear about you not feeling too good?’

‘Oh, I feel fine, but I had jellyfish in my effluent and Mum though I ought to call you. I told her it was just fibrin, but she panics!’

Jamie stifled a grin, but Rob was dead-pan and serious.

‘Did you save it for me to look at?’

‘Of course!’ She gave a cheeky grin and led the way through to the little sitting-room. ‘Mum, Dr Rob’s here. He’s brought a visitor. Come away in and sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you. Trudy, come here and sit down and let me see this effluent. I expect Dr Cameron here would like to see it too. You’re sure you feel quite well?’

‘Uh-huh—I’ll get it.’

She skipped off, and her mother gave a weary smile. ‘She should be in bed by now, but I thought—I’d hate to neglect her and have anything dreadful go wrong. Like that sore throat—I’ll never forgive myself for that, but she always had them, and I thought it was just one more …’

Rob laid a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. ‘You had enough on your plate, Mrs Douglas. Your husband had just left you, your MS was progressing fast and furiously—no one could possibly blame you, and I’m damn sure Trudy doesn’t. And I think you did the right thing to call me tonight. Ah, Trudy, let’s see your jellyfish.’

He held up the bag of yellow-coloured fluid which had been used to dialyse Trudy, and frowned at it. ‘You sure you haven’t been fishing in the loch?’

She giggled. ‘I fell in yesterday—maybe some of the jellyfish swam inside then!’

He lowered the bag. ‘Did you fall in?’

‘No, of course not! I was just teasing you.’

‘Hmm. I’m never sure with you, young lady. Well, I reckon that’s all right, but I think we need to have a look at you. Could you just lie down on the settee and let me see your tummy?’

Once again Jamie was fascinated, but this time by Trudy. Just beside her tummy-button was a neat little hole through which emerged a catheter with a connector on the end, linked to another length of tube that ran to an empty bag. The skin around the exit site was clean and pink and healthy, and Rob nodded and covered the little girl up.

‘How’s your weight?’

‘Fine—going up a bit, but I’ve grown, so I think that must be why. I tried drinking less in case it was a fluid build-up but I got dehydrated——’

Trudy, come and talk to me or the clinic before you alter your fluid intake, love.’

The child instantly looked crestfallen, and he sat beside her and engulfed her little hand in his.

Trudy, I’m very proud of the way you’ve learnt to understand your condition and deal with all your problems, but there are times, and things, that you don’t know enough about. You know, the health service pay me and the people in the CAPD clinic a lot of money to help people like you—it’s cheating them if you won’t let us!’

She looked up at him, her serious face melting into a loving smile. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. You always look so tired…’ Her little hand came up and cupped his cheek, and he flushed slightly and hugged her.

‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m fine. Anyway, Dr Cameron here is going to help me for a little while. Let me take your temperature and blood-pressure. Any chest pain, swollen ankles or shortness of breath?’

She shook her head, temporarily silenced by the thermometer.

‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Rob joked, and Trudy punched his arm gently.

He grinned and took the thermometer out of her mouth. ‘Fine. Good. I’ll put some heparin in the next couple of bags to keep the fibrin down, so it doesn’t clog the tube, then I want to know if it comes back again or if the effluent quantity is down. OK?’

Trudy nodded sagely. ‘Shall I ring the clinic?’

He tapped her on the end of her nose. ‘No, madam, you shall not, I’ll do it. I’ll see you again in a day or two. Now, how about going to bed?’

He was quiet on the way back to the surgery, and so was Jamie. In fact, she was too shocked and moved to speak, her thoughts trapped by the tremendous courage of the little girl whose life was destined to be dominated by her dialysis. Over and over again medicine had shown her the vast resources of courage that people, and especially children, were able to tap in times of crisis. It was humbling, and awe-inspiring, and just then it made her want to cry.

She huddled down in the seat and turned her face to the window, staring out into the almost dark night. Although it was late, the night was clear and bright, the moon gleaming coldly on the rocks by the shore. It was a night for lovers, she thought sadly, a night made for strolling hand in hand—not for sitting beside a man who had made it clear he had no use for her.

She risked a quick glance at his stern profile, and swallowed. He looked angry—furiously so, and she wondered why.

‘She needs a transplant,’ he growled. ‘Poor bloody kid shouldn’t have to suffer like that! It makes me so cross—the number of people who die with perfectly healthy kidneys, and because they haven’t thought of carrying a donor card, a kid like Trudy is condemned to an abbreviated lifetime of constant dialysis.’

‘She’s got time,’ Jamie murmured soothingly. ‘Perhaps a kidney will turn up soon.’

‘Maybe.’

He turned the Land Rover on to the drive and cut the engine, and the quiet of the night stole over them, A dog was barking somewhere in the distance, and they sat for a moment absorbing the stillness. Then the front door was opened and a golden flood spilled out into the garden.

‘Call for you, Doctor. Mrs McRae—think’s she’s got a chest infection. And the babe won’t settle without a kiss from her father.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll give her won’t settle. Call Mrs McRae for me and tell her I’m coming, and I’ll sort Chloe out.’

He was in, upstairs, back down and off out again within five minutes. Mrs H took Jamie upstairs and showed her her room and the bathroom which she would share with the housekeeper and the baby.

‘Dr Buchanan’s got his own bathroom off his bedroom, so we’re quite private. I expect you’d like a bath and then something to eat, wouldn’t you? You look all in.’

Jamie agreed, and bathed quickly, dressing warmly in a tracksuit before running back downstairs. She found the kitchen by trial and error, and Mrs H turned to her with a smile.

‘Here you are, lass. Bacon and mushroom omelette and a cup of tea.’

Jamie returned the smile. ‘Thank you, you’re very kind. How did you know I was hungry?’

There was a motherly chuckle. ‘I didn’t, but it was a fair bet that you hadn’t eaten before you got here, and the doctor wouldn’t have given it a thought. If it wasn’t for me tying him down and force-feeding him three times a day, that man wouldn’t eat from one week’s end to the next.’

‘What about his wife?’ Jamie asked, and the housekeeper’s face lost its smile.

‘Away,’ she said briefly.

‘On holiday?’

She snorted. ‘You could say that.’

‘Oh.’ Jamie didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘When’s she coming back?’

There was a slight sound behind her, and she turned, the blood draining from her face. She had never seen anyone look so angry in her entire life. Then he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

She turned her bemused gaze back to the housekeeper, and the woman sank down at the table and covered Jamie’s hand. ‘Don’t let him frighten you—and don’t let him drive you away either. If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’

‘Tell me about his wife,’ Jamie pleaded.

The woman shook her head. ‘If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself. I’ll tell you this much, though. She’ll not be back, and good riddance. He doesn’t need her, and no more does the child—but I’ve said enough. Ask him—if you dare—but pick your moment. He’s awful touchy about it still.’

Jamie had noticed—and she had no intention of asking him about any such thing. Besides, it was by no means certain that she’d even get the chance!

CHAPTER TWO

IT WASN’T a good night. Between the strange bed, the uncertainty about her future and Rob Buchanan’s anger over her inquisitiveness, Jamie didn’t sleep much.

Her room was above the front door, and so she was aware of the exact number of times Rob was called out, and how long he was gone each time.

By five-thirty, when he left again, he had been in for precisely four hours, in three stretches, since the unfortunate scene in the kitchen—this on top of an already punishing schedule and at the start of a no doubt hectic week. Jamie sighed. Why was he so determined to get rid of her? Mrs H’s words came back to her. ‘If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’ Well, it was up to her to make him accept it—at least temporarily.

Throwing off the bedclothes, she made her way to the bathroom, had a quick wash and then dressed in the colourful and pretty tracksuit she had worn the previous night. With her trainers in her hand, she crept down the silent landing and tiptoed down the stairs, letting out her breath as she closed the kitchen door behind her. She put the kettle on and made a cup of tea, and then while it cooled she started her warm-up routine. She was standing head-down with her back to the door and her hands grasping one ankle when she heard a slight noise behind her. Peering through her legs, she saw a large pair of shoes at the bottom of impossibly long legs clad in lovat-green wool trousers.

She dropped her ankle as if it were red-hot and snapped upright.

‘Good morning.’

She shoved the hair off her face with both hands and turned reluctantly to face him, conscious of the flush on her cheeks and, strangely, every curve and hollow of her slender body. She tugged the tracksuit top down and tried for a smile.

‘Morning. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I haven’t had a better offer all day,’ he murmured. He hooked a chair with his foot and dropped wearily into it, one arm lying along the table-top with the elbow bent and his head propped on his hand.

She found another cup and filled it, then set it down beside him. His eyes were shut, and he looked absolutely exhausted. His skin was grey, the dark hair heavy on his brow in stark contrast. There were black shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed and deeply etched. He needed a shave, and the dark stubble did nothing to improve his appearance. He looked like a convict on the run, a man at the end of his tether. She stifled the urge to pull his head against her breast and smooth away the cares, instead perching on a chair near him and watching him with steady eyes.

After a few seconds a soft snore escaped him, and she realised he was asleep, bolt upright in the chair. Poor man. Poor, exhausted, stubborn, foolish man. She reached out and touched his arm lightly, and his eyes flickered and opened slowly.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered gruffly, and reached almost blindly for the tea.

‘Bad night,’ she stated gently, and he nodded.

‘Did I disturb you?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really, no.’

‘Just wondered. You’re up awful early.’

‘I was going for a run. It looks a lovely morning.’

He nodded. ‘It is.’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘Mind if I join you? I could do with a little fresh air.’

Well, what could she say? No, I want to be on my own? Yes, by all means, but keep your rotten temper to yourself?

‘That would be very nice,’ she said instead, and wondered why she didn’t choke on the lie. Still, it would give her a chance to be with him, and perhaps they could talk again about the practice. He couldn’t deny that he needed help, and she was ready, willing and able—not to mention having a contract in her handbag, which must surely mean something?

She stirred the dregs of her tea idly while he went and changed, and the thoughts ran endlessly round in a continuous loop, always coming back to the same thing—if Rob Buchanan wouldn’t let her help him, there was nothing she could do about it.

He was back quickly, and she pushed herself to her feet before she turned to look at him. Instantly, she wished she had remained seated, because he was dressed in nothing more than a pair of satin running shorts and a running vest that did nothing to hide him from her eyes, and he was hugely, overpoweringly—well, male, really, she thought with a last vestige of humour. It was just that the word man was suddenly redefined before her eyes, and it frankly took her breath away.

‘Ready?’

‘I—yes, of course.’ She pushed the chair under the table, took a deep breath and followed him down the hall. He stood back to hold the door for her, and she squeezed past him, skilfully avoiding contact. ‘Which way do we go?’ she asked quietly.

‘Up out of the village, along the glen and then back round to the coast road and home—about four miles. Is that OK?’

She nodded. Three miles was her usual run, but she hadn’t done it recently because of all the confusion and packing up and—well, she just hadn’t. Still, she could. ‘I’ll follow you,’ she said, and it was the last thing she managed for some time.

He set a punishing pace, and she fell into step behind him with a feeling of dread. Was he doing it on purpose? Probably. She gritted her teeth and tucked her head down, keeping just his heels in sight. It served two purposes. One, it stopped her having to see the length of the hill they were climbing—and two, she was less aware of the powerful legs with their liberal dusting of black hair pounding like pistons ahead of her. She spared him a glance, and shook her head slightly at what she saw.

Everything about him, from the immensely powerful shoulders, through the long arms and down the powerful column of his back to the taut buttocks and massive thighs that bunched with every stride—everything shrieked MAN. Jamie didn’t need that kind of distraction if she was going to have to fight with him about her job. The last thing she needed in a battle of the sexes was to be physically aware of him, or him of her, come to that. Thank God she was covered up—although as the run progressed and she heated up she wondered how long it would be before she wanted to tear off her top and let the air filter through her thin cotton T-shirt.

Too bad, she decided. Her bra was only so good, and although she was slim, she was also quite definitely a woman, and running was not calculated to make that go unnoticed. She kept the top on.

She was so busy in her thoughts that she didn’t realise they had reached the top of the hill, or that Rob was waiting for her. Consequently she cannoned into him, driving her breath out with a little ‘Ooof!’ and bringing a blush to her already warm cheeks. He steadied her with his hands, and she felt the shock all the way down to her toes.

‘You look hot,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘Why don’t you take off the top?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t want to have to carry it.’

‘I’ll carry it.’ He held out his hand, and she hesitated only a second.

Modesty be damned, she thought as she wrenched the suffocating top off. ‘I thought it would be cooler,’ she said lamely.

He knotted the sleeves around his trim waist and frowned at her. ‘Am I going too fast for you? You look a bit out of condition.’

‘It’s a few weeks since I went for a run,’ she confessed. More like a few months, she corrected herself, and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing.

‘All downhill now,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hell on the knees, but easy on the chest. Ready?’

She nodded weakly, and he set off, his long legs loping steadily down the slight incline. She kept up with him, but his stride was much longer than hers, and it wasn’t easy. Once she stumbled, and his hand shot out like lightning and grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.

‘OK?’

‘Yes—fine—just—thank you.’

She looked up and met his eyes, and a new respect dawned in them.

‘I’ll shorten my stride,’ he suggested, the ghost of a smile playing around his eyes, and she stifled the retort. Playing games with her, was he?

‘Don’t bother,’ she said, and led the way, her pace too fast but her pride flying high.

He caught up with her, shot her a grin and moved in front, deliberately racing ahead.

‘Show-off,’ she yelled after him, and dropped back to a more sensible speed. Her legs felt like jelly, and she wondered how much further it was. Rob was out of sight now, the bend ahead hiding him from view.

As she rounded the corner, he thrust himself away from the rock he was resting against and jogged up beside her.

‘Nearly there,’ he said with a smile, and she nodded briefly and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

They dropped down the last section of hill to the coast road, and then turned left, back towards the village. This stretch of road was by now familiar to Jamie, and she knew it could only be a mile or so at the most, but it seemed to stretch on forever.

Just when she felt she really couldn’t go on any longer, Rob tugged her to a halt at his side. ‘Let’s walk,’ he suggested. The view is breathtaking, isn’t it? It never fails to move me.’

They fell into step, his long legs slowing to accommodate her shorter stride, and as they walked, he pointed things out to her.

‘Salmon farm,’ he said, and she squinted into the rising sun.

‘Where?’

He moved round behind her, stretched out his arm and pointed. ‘Look along my arm,’ he instructed, and she rested her cheek against his forearm and looked.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, distracted. His skin was cool and damp, covered with a fine sheen of moisture, and his body, so close behind her, smelt of soap and healthy exercise and a strange, heady fragrance that called to some long-buried primitive part of her.

She moved away.

‘Rob, about what you overheard last night——’

He stiffened. ‘Forget it.’

‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t want you to think I was prying.’

‘Weren’t you?’

‘No! At least, not intentionally. My father always said I leap in where angels fear to tread, but last night it didn’t occur to me that there was anything to pry into. Obviously Chloe has or has had a mother, and a child of that age isn’t usually brought up by the father on his own. It wasn’t an unreasonable mistake to make.’

He was silent for a while, and then sighed, running his big hands through his hair. She thought he looked resigned.

‘I’m sorry, I tend to over-react.’

Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted gently.

He gave a brief snort. ‘I thought Mrs Harrison already did that.’

‘No.’ Jamie stopped him with a hand on his arm and turned him to face her. ‘She only told me she was away and wasn’t coming back. Nothing else.’

‘What else is there?’ he said bleakly.

‘There’s why.’

He shot her a black look. ‘Your father was right. You’re an interfering baggage.’

She took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Mrs ? told me not to let you frighten me. I get the impression you’re just a pussycat.’

He gave a wry snort of laughter, and then met her eyes candidly.

‘You want to know about Jennifer? She hated it in the Highlands. We met in Edinburgh, where I trained, and when I did my GP trainee year I came out here to this practice. It was wonderful, so clean and straightforward, somehow, after the city—but within a month Jennifer had left and gone back to Edinburgh. She said she wanted a divorce, and I was tied to the practice, so I begged her to wait until the year was over and let us try again.

‘She refused, and when the year was up they offered me a job here and I took it. As soon as the second year of our separation was up, she started divorce proceedings. I took some leave and went back to Edinburgh to try and talk her out of it. At first it seemed that we might have a chance, but, when she asked me if I would consider a city practice and I said no, the most I would consider was a small rural practice just outside a city, that was it. End of reconciliation.’

His face bleak, he continued, ‘Eleven months later she turned up with Chloe, eight weeks old, and said she didn’t want her. I was appalled. I had no way of looking after her, so I took a few days off, shopped for baby equipment and a housekeeper, and Mrs Harrison turned up, bless her heart. She’d lost her husband, her children had left the nest and she was finding things a bit tight and a lot lonely. She’s been a marvel, and without her I would have lost the only thing in the world I really care about.’

He turned away, but not before Jamie caught the bright sheen of tears in his eyes.

‘So now you know,’ he said a little unevenly. ‘As far as Chloe’s concerned, mothers don’t exist.’

‘And as far as you’re concerned, women don’t exist except in cities.’ Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. How could she fight such deep-rooted prejudice?

‘That’s right,’ he said tersely. ‘I have to get back. Do you know the way?’

She nodded, and he left her there, watching his powerful legs eating up the road as he sprinted back home. She followed slowly, her heart heavy.

How could she make him understand? The peace and tranquillity of the quiet little Scottish backwater were just what her spirit needed after the last harrowing year. Perhaps he would give her a trial? Yes, that was it, she’d persuade him to allow her to help, make herself indispensable and then he’d have no option …

She shook her head. It wouldn’t work. He wasn’t a man who allowed circumstances to dictate to him. As she let herself in the front door, she was almost resigned to putting her overnight bag back in the car and driving back to—where? Her parents’ house was sold, her half-brother and his wife didn’t want or need her—she had nowhere to go. No home, no job, friends who were too busy chasing the ladder of success to bother with a restless young woman who couldn’t settle down. No good telling them that her soul was starved. They would only laugh.

Rob was standing in the hall with Chloe in his arms, talking on the phone as she walked in. He looked worried, and as she went up the stairs she heard him say he’d be there in fifteen minutes.

He put Chloe in the kitchen with Mrs H and bounded past Jamie on the stairs, going up three at a time. He ran into his bedroom, stripping off his vest as he went, and seconds later she heard drawers slamming.

She tapped on the open bedroom door, and he glanced up, clad only in a pair of skimpy briefs. She dragged her eyes from his body, aware that this was not the time to be distracted.

‘Can I help?’ she offered quietly.

He looked at her as if she were an answer to his prayers, and nodded.

‘School bus overturned on the main road. Have you got a medical bag in your car?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Throw something on and bring it. I’ll get some syringes and some diamorphine from the dispensary, and we’ll need giving sets and some saline——’

She didn’t wait to hear the familiar list.

They met in the hall a few seconds later. He stuck his head round the kitchen door, rattled off instructions to Mrs H and joined her at the Land Rover.

‘Got the bag?’

She nodded.

‘Come on, then.’

He drove at breakneck speed, and when they arrived she could see why. It was a scene of absolute mayhem. Terrified children clustered round each other some yards from the bus, which lay on its side at the edge of the road. As they approached, the policeman who had been first on the scene greeted them with relief.

‘Most of the kids are fine—cuts and bruises, the odd fracture—one arm, a couple of fingers. A WPC is giving them some first aid and a bit of TLC. Two children still trapped inside—both still alive, but one has head injuries and probably leg injuries, and the other has abdominal injuries from the crushed seat in front of her.’