Saving The Single Dad Doc

He was shocked. And a little embarrassed at having pushed her to explain. ‘I’m very sorry.’

‘You weren’t to know.’

‘I lost my wife when Rosie was born. It’s difficult being a single parent, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry, too. It can be, if you’re truly on your own. That’s why it’s good to have family around.’

‘Is that why you moved to Gilloch?’

‘Yes, I was born here. Lived here in Gilloch until about the age of three or four, when my parents moved to Cornwall. My father was looking for better job prospects—my mother for better weather!’

She laughed at the personal memory and he loved the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of her parents.

‘It was in Cornwall that I met my husband. He was a doctor, too. When he died I felt incredibly alone. My parents were gone by then, and I just felt a yearning to be with family. It’s important, that connection. More than any other. We’d always kept in touch with my grandmother, speaking online and on the phone, and I wanted Grace to know her properly instead of just being a voice...an image. So I decided to move back here so we could look after each other.’

‘Mhairi?’

She nodded.

Cameron put down her paperwork. ‘Tell me what you think you can bring to this post.’

But at that moment there was another knock on the door and Janet was there, carefully balancing a tray with cups, saucers, a teapot and a small plate of biscuits.

‘Thank you, Janet.’ He dismissed her and waited for her to leave the room before turning his attention back to Bethan.

‘I’m punctual, committed, hard-working. I’m good with patients and I know how to build a rapport with them. I believe myself to be very efficient, and I have a good talent for hearing what people aren’t saying.’

Is that right?

‘What would you say are your weaknesses?’

She shifted in her seat. ‘I get attached. I care too much, too quickly, and don’t always control my emotions.’

He frowned. That was a red flag. He didn’t need anyone getting attached to him! Even if it was just as a friend or a trusted colleague. He didn’t need anyone to be hurt by his passing. It was going to be bad enough for Rosie. He needed strong people around to be there for her, not crying a river for their own pain.

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s the human element. I find it hard to create a professional distance sometimes. Especially with people that I feel I know well. I care for them. Feel for them. When they’re hurting, so am I.’

She leaned forward, planted her elbows on his desk.

‘What I mean is, if I’ve been looking after someone and then I have to deliver a shocking diagnosis that’s going to affect their lives then I’m going to feel that pain with them. It will make me cry. Not whilst I’m with them,’ she clarified. ‘I’m not that unprofessional. But sometimes it can get a little bit too much.’

She looked at him with concern, as if she were worried she’d said too much.

‘Actually, I’m not sure if that is a weakness.’ She smiled. ‘I think it just makes me human, and I think people like having doctors who aren’t made of steel.’

She jutted out her chin, but didn’t meet his gaze.

He suspected she thought she’d blown it.

She hadn’t. Not at all. But she didn’t know she was the only applicant, and she didn’t know just how much he needed her. He had to employ her. No matter what. His time was running out. He would just keep his distance. As much as he could.

‘I need someone who can take over my role completely. I’m leaving the practice for a year’s sabbatical, to spend time with my wee girl, but obviously there will be a short transition period during which I will sit in with the new doctor and observe until they feel able to fly solo. How would you feel about that? Me looking over your shoulder?’

She nodded, smiling. ‘That sounds fine.’ Then she frowned. ‘You’re leaving? Completely?’

Cameron smiled. ‘Completely. For a year,’ he lied.

‘Oh.’

Was she using that special skill of hers right now? Trying to work out what it was that he wasn’t saying? Perhaps she was. He watched her observing him, looking for clues, trying to work out why a fully trained doctor would just leave like this, but he knew she wouldn’t find the answer.

There were no outward signs of his death sentence. Just paleness and bags under his eyes, which lots of people had, and a slowly fading headache that she couldn’t see. No one else knew either. Except family. He’d had to tell them. But everyone else just thought he’d been sick for a while and was now over it.

Cameron leaned forward and poured them both a cup of tea, standing up to pass her a cup and saucer.

‘Thank you.’

‘This practice has always worked well. There’s a good team here. How would you make sure you’d fit in?’

She sipped from the teacup. ‘I’m a local girl who’s come home. I’m sure there will be lots of questions, which I’ll do my best to answer honestly. You can’t be a GP without having good people skills.’

He smiled. Good. ‘Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me?’

Surely there had to be. All good interviewees were taught to ask something at this stage. To sound interested in the post, if nothing else.

Bethan stirred her drink and he noticed what fine hands she had. Lithe fingers, short nails with clear polish. He was struck by a sense of admiration for this woman. Her husband had died and she was a widow. A single parent like himself.

‘There is one.’

‘Aye?’ He sipped his own tea, wincing at the heat of it upon his tongue.

‘I’d like to know if I’d have full autonomy from day one? I know you’d be observing, but how long would you observe me for?’

He smiled. He liked this woman. She had spirit. And enthusiasm. And that mattered to him most of all. He was going to be leaving his patients in the care of someone else. Patients he had looked after for a good few years. He needed to know they were in good hands. She seemed a steady, comforting individual. Someone who—if he hadn’t had this death sentence hanging over him—he could imagine becoming great friends with.

And for that reason he’d have to keep her at arm’s length whilst they worked together. Keep everything brief and to the point.

‘You’ll have autonomy. And I’d like to observe for two weeks.’

We won’t get close.

‘Two weeks...’

‘Two weeks of me sitting in the corner and saying nothing. Unless you need me to, of course.’

She nodded. Smiled. ‘That’s okay by me.’

‘Good.’

He decided to shock her. See how she dealt with surprises.

‘When would you like to start?’

* * *

She stood outside in the bright morning sun, a little stunned.

I got the job!

Her first job application after a long break away!

Dr Brodie had seemed a very likeable man. Handsome, tall, broad-shouldered... A typical Scot, if there was one, with that beautiful head of red hair. And his eyes... Such a piercing blue against those dark shadows that lurked beneath them.

Clearly he had not been sleeping well recently. Or he was worried about something. Was it his decision to take a year off? Was he concerned about leaving his patients with someone he didn’t know? Perhaps there was something else. Something she didn’t know yet.

It’s none of my business.

What was her business, though, was the fact that she could start her new job next Monday! Cameron had said that Mondays were appointment days at the surgery. Tuesdays were for home visits, Wednesday was procedure day, when they’d perform small surgeries such as skin tag removal, wound care, that sort of thing, and Thursdays were for more appointments, as were Fridays.

Weekends and evenings were usually spent on call, but they shared the on-call with the practice over in the next village, so that they did actually get some time off on alternate weekends, and he’d said they didn’t often get lots of call-outs.

Gilloch was a small coastal village in the Highlands. She could smell the brine in the air from wherever she stood. No more than a thousand people lived here and they were of sturdy stock. And now she would be their doctor.

Smiling, she set off back to her nanna’s, to tell her the good news. She had no doubt at all that her grandmother would be suspicious about Cameron Brodie’s motives, but Bethan was determined not to be!

I’m going to make this work. I’m going to make Cameron Brodie see that I am a brilliant doctor and that I will be able to care for all his patients as if he were still doing it himself! If not better!

She needed this. Wanted this.

And now it was in her grasp.

Life was changing now that she was back.

Just as she’d hoped it would.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU’VE GOT YOUR phone in case I need you?’

‘Yes, Nanna.’

‘Your purse?’

‘Of course.’

‘You’ll call me if anything goes wrong?’

Bethan laughed at her nanna’s fussing. ‘Why would anything go wrong?’

Nanna fiddled with the pendant at her neck. ‘I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about this.’

Bethan held out her arms and scooped her grandmother into a hug. She needed one. She’d been nervous these last few days as her starting day had got closer. And Nanna was still utterly convinced it was all a great big trick to humiliate her further.

‘It’ll be okay. Dr Brodie is a very nice man.’

‘Impossible! Brodie men are the worst.’

‘Not this one. He’s different.’

Nanna pulled back to look at her. ‘You believe that?’

She smiled. ‘I do. What happened between you and old Angus Brodie is ancient news.’

‘Maybe to you.’

Bethan picked up her briefcase. ‘You’re all right getting Grace to school?’

Nanna smiled. ‘Of course.’

‘And picking her up at three?’

‘Aye. I’ve a few orders to dye up today, but I’ll remember. I’m not senile, you know.’

‘I’ve told the school you’ll be picking her up from now on.’

Nanna leaned against the kitchen sink. ‘You’re stalling.’

‘I’m nervous.’

‘You’ll be absolutely fine. You’re a wonderful doctor, lassie. The people here in Gilloch are lucky to have you.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box tied with ribbon. ‘I want you to have this.’

‘What is it?’

‘They were your mother’s.’

Bethan opened the lid of the box and found inside a small pair of diamond earrings, sitting on a bed of red velvet. ‘They’re beautiful!’

‘Your father gave them to your mother after she had you. I should have given them to you long ago, after you had Grace, but they’re yours now.’

Bethan was touched. Such a wonderful gesture! She put them in and went to look in the mirror. Perfect.

‘Thank you, Nanna.’

Mhairi smiled. ‘Now, you go and show that Brodie boy who’s boss!’

* * *

Bethan felt a little odd, knowing that she was in his seat and he was in a smaller chair right next to her as he showed her the ins and outs of the computer system.

She’d not said much to her nanna over the weekend, but Dr Brodie had been in her thoughts more than she’d let on.

Nanna was right. He was a handsome man, and when she’d first walked into that interview room she’d almost stalled, her mouth drying upon her first sight of him—this tall Scottish hunk, unfolding his long, rangy figure from behind the desk and stretching out a hand for her to shake. She’d felt sure he would notice the tremble that had begun in her body in response to him.

And now he kept reaching across the desk to point things out on the computer and he smelt so good! It had been a long time since she had felt aware of another man, and having one who smelt so great sitting right beside her was throwing her concentration slightly. Irritating her as she tried to fight it.

‘So, if you want to print off some information about a condition, click on this box here, next to the diagnosis, and it links to a medical database. You see?’

He brought up an information sheet on scoliosis as an example.

She snapped back into professional mode. ‘Perfect. And if I want to look up information on medication...?’

‘Well, we have books, but if you click on that question mark next to the prescription box you can usually find what you need regarding the pharmacology.’

‘That’s wonderful. Thank you. It’s pretty similar to the last system I used.’

‘Any telephone calls with patients, any advice or queries, you mark them down in the patient notes—no matter how trivial. See the notepad icon? It all has to be logged. I find that helps with any possible discrepancies down the line, if they query anything.’

‘Well, I hope there won’t be any discrepancies. Not from me.’

‘Excellent. Well, I think you’re ready! Feel like meeting your first patient?’

She turned to look into his face, at those warm crystal-blue eyes of his that twinkled in his pale face, and felt a rush of heat hit her in the solar plexus.

Oh, boy, I’m in trouble!

‘I am.’

‘Well, just push that button there to call her in. Her name will come up on the screen in the waiting room.’

Bethan smiled, nervousness suddenly flooding her system. She adjusted her chair and let out a breath. Then pushed the button.

* * *

Mrs Percy was a sweet old lady who used a walker that she’d jazzed up with some fake flowers and pretty ribbons. She shuffled her way into the room and sat down with a satisfied sigh and a smile as she took in the two doctors facing her.

‘Two for the price of one, eh? Lucky me.’

Bethan smiled. She liked her already. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Percy?’

She’d already checked her screen and observed that apart from some arthritis in her hips and knees, Mrs Percy didn’t have much wrong with her. Blood pressure had been good on her last check and her cholesterol levels were low.

‘I want to do the Edinburgh Half-Marathon,’ she said, giving one firm nod as she delivered her surprising statement.

‘You do?’ Nothing could have surprised Bethan more. She’d maybe expected My knees are giving me some gip or I’m not sleeping well at night. Anything but what she’d actually said.

‘Aye, I do. And they tell you, don’t they—on the television and whatnot—that if you’re about to embark on a new training regime or exercise you should consult your doctor? So that’s why I’m here. Thought you’d better check me out so I don’t drop dead halfway around.’

Cameron laughed beside her. ‘Mrs Percy is our resident adrenaline junkie.’

Mrs Percy winked at him. ‘Well, adrenaline keeps you going, doesn’t it? I’ve seen those medical shows on TV, when someone’s about to cork it and they give them a shot of adrenaline. Brenda, I tell myself, you need some of that every day.’

Bethan nodded. Fair enough! ‘Okay...well, I guess we need to check you over, then. We’ll need to take your blood pressure, listen to your heart, take your pulse. All right?’

‘Aye, dear. You go for it.’ Mrs Percy rolled up the sleeve of her vast knitted cardigan to reveal a scrawny arm. ‘But I want a good answer, mind. I’ve got lots more living in me, and I haven’t abseiled down a building yet—or swam with sharks.’

‘You want to swim with sharks?’

‘Great white sharks! The meanest buggers of them all! Oh, aye!’

Mrs Percy’s blood pressure was normal. Which was impressive, seeing as she was talking about one of the greatest predators of all time and being stuck in a tiny cage next to one.

‘Well, you’re braver than me, Mrs Percy. I’m quite happy to keep my feet on solid ground.’

‘Och, that’s no way to live, dear. You have to be scared every day. Keeps you fresh. Keeps the blood pumping! You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Dr Brodie? What with your little foray into illness?’

Cameron gave a polite smile and nodded.

‘Illness is a mean old beast—we all know that—but it’s also the biggest wake-up call.’

‘Well, your BP and heart-rate are good. I think as long as you train sensibly and take your time there’s no reason why you shouldn’t enter the half-marathon if it’s really what you want to do.’

‘Och, that’s brilliant, Doctor. Thank you very much. This your first day, is it?’

Bethan glanced at Cameron and smiled. ‘It is. And you’re my first patient.’

‘Och, really? Do I get a prize?’

‘Just the prize of continued good health, Mrs Percy.’

Mrs Percy nodded. ‘Aye. ’tis a gift not given to all, but I’m taking full advantage of mine whilst I’ve got it. How are you feeling now, Dr Brodie?’

Cameron’s face seemed to flush slightly before he answered, and he wasn’t even looking at Bethan. ‘Much better, thank you.’

Bethan wondered what Cameron had been ill with. Probably a cold, or something. Maybe the flu? If he was back after a brief illness that might explain the dark circles.

She got up to walk Mrs Percy to the door and held it open for her.

Mrs Percy thanked her. ‘Reckon I’ll get myself a gold medal one day. Beat the clock.’

‘You win if you cross the line at the end, Mrs Percy. That should be your goal. Don’t worry about the clock.’

‘But the clock’s the whole point, Doctor. Time’s always against us.’

Bethan closed the door and turned to look at Cameron.

He smiled at her casually, guilelessly, as if he had nothing to hide, and she shrugged her worries away.

It had probably just been man-flu.

Nothing to worry about at all.

* * *

How many of his patients might give the game away?

That had been a close-run thing with Mrs Percy. She liked to talk...liked to gossip. Oddly, the people who talked non-stop never seemed to come to his surgery with sore throats or laryngitis. But a lot of people in Gilloch knew he’d had a run-in with cancer. They didn’t know all the details—he’d only shared those with direct family—but gossip and rumour were rife in a small place such as this.

He’d told everyone else it was over. He’d beaten it. Why upset them? Why put himself in a position of having everyone look at him with sympathy and pity? A dead man walking. They’d be throwing flowers at him before he was six feet under, and who wanted that?

His father had not taken the news of his prognosis well. Why would he? No one wanted to hear things like that. No parent wanted to hear that they would outlive their child, and that was exactly what he’d had to tell his own father.

‘They estimate I maybe have a year left.’

He’d almost not told him. The very idea of sitting down in the living room and having to utter those words had made him feel physically sick. He didn’t ever want to remind himself of the look on his father’s face when he had, silently wiping away his tears, his mouth grim as he looked away and gave one solitary sniff.

‘I’m going to leave the practice. I’m going to spend my time with Rosie and you, as much as I can.’

He could appreciate Mrs Percy’s outlook on life. You did have to grab every second of it. You didn’t realise how precious it was until someone told you there wasn’t as much left as you thought there was.

Everyone has a limited time. It’s just that some have more sand in their hourglass than others.

Bethan sat beside him, typing in the notes about Mrs Percy’s consultation, oblivious to his torment and secrets. Her fine fingers were flitting across the keyboard, and he noticed the way she gently bit her lower lip as she concentrated.

She’s pretty.

There was no point in telling anyone else the bad news. Sitting down and telling his family had been bad enough—he didn’t want to have to keep on repeating it. Seeing people he cared about breaking down and crying and having to be the one to comfort them. He needed his strength for himself.

So he’d lied. Told them the chemo had worked. The tumour was gone. It was all over. Life could carry on. Except he’d quite like a year’s sabbatical. Just to spend some time with Rosie. It had been a hard few months for her, watching her dad lose his hair and his strength.

Everyone at the practice had understood. They thought it was a marvellous idea, though they’d be sad not to see him every day.

He cleared the dark thoughts from his head. He didn’t need to linger on the thought of everyone else’s pain. He had a new mantra—make it all about Rosie. He wasn’t being mean. He wasn’t being selfish. But he needed to create distance from people now. They were all too close, all too friendly. He knew what it felt like to lose someone close, and it was horrible. Best to make it easier for everyone by being a little standoffish.

He liked what he’d seen of Bethan so far and she’d been right. But she did exude warmth and an easy-going nature, and he had no doubt he would have a problem keeping her away if she knew the truth. Bethan’s ease at being able to chat with her patient as if she’d known her for a long time took skill. If she found out about his glioma he just knew she wouldn’t let it go.

And hadn’t she been through this before? With her husband? What kind of cruel person would put someone as nice as her through that again?

He hated lying, but he needed to. It was self-preservation.

Cameron thought of all those people in his waiting room—all those familiar faces, all those people he had come to care for. People who would still be here after his time had come and gone.

Part of him didn’t want to go. Part of him was still rebelling at his diagnosis—physician, heal thyself—and part of him just wanted to lie down and have it all be done with.

He knew that was the depressive side of things. He had tablets for that. For the depression. His consultant had said they would help him come to terms with it. Be less of a shock to the system.

He wasn’t sure they were working. He spent far more time than he should wallowing in dark thoughts.

But who wouldn’t with a terminal diagnosis?

And why put other people through it when they didn’t have to?

It was best to just go quietly.

Let them sort it out after he was gone.

* * *

Her first morning of seeing patients was the usual kind of mix. Some were simply curious. Some turned up to see her about some spurious sore throat or trifling cough, just so they could go home and tell everyone else that they’d met Mhairi’s prodigal granddaughter.

She treated housemaid’s knee, an actual chest infection that needed antibiotics, a suspected urine infection and a clear case of pompholyx—which was an itchy, painful rash that appeared on the hands and feet. She examined two men complaining of bad backs—one with a shoulder injury after a fall in the garden onto a wooden picnic bench—and diagnosed a case of cellulitis.

She was enjoying herself immensely. Back in the job she loved. Seeing new people—people who would come to mean a lot to her.

She felt Cam’s presence behind her like a guardian angel, and he was being as good as his word, letting her be autonomous and get on with everything herself, only butting in when he had to—when there was something she wasn’t sure of on the computer, or to tell her where various equipment was stored in the consulting room.

At lunchtime, they stopped for something to eat.

‘Well, I think that was a successful morning!’ she said, smiling, happy at what she’d achieved. Happy at having been able to help people.

It had been so long since she’d had the experience of feeling she was actually curing someone instead of just obscuring their pain. She felt as if she was exactly where she needed to be.