All The Care In The World

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN Nancy Greenwood’s name had been brought up earlier by Jenny, Callum’s first thought had been that he remembered her only briefly and vaguely—but now he discovered he was wrong. Completely wrong.

Because when the door opened and the woman in the navy blue suit stood on its threshold, staring into his eyes, he was aware of nothing more than a bone-shaking familiarity about her. As if that earlier brief and apparently vague glimpse of her been enough to commit every line of her to everlasting and glorious memory.

She was as small as he remembered—a tiny, wee thing with soft, pale skin and clear brown eyes which were shaped like pebbles. Her hair was dark and shiny and clipped back rather severely from her face, though, in Callum’s opinion, such restriction was unnecessary for he found he could imagine it, hanging in a glossy curtain to her shoulders, the way it had been when he’d interviewed her before.

He cleared his throat but, even so, his voice sounded even deeper than usual as he said, ‘Come in, Dr Greenwood, though perhaps I’d better call you Nancy. You don’t mind me calling you by your first name, do you?’

He raised his dark eyebrows enquiringly and Nancy shook her head automatically, both bemused and charmed by his obvious friendliness. At that precise moment he could have called her anything he darned well pleased!

‘I’m Callum Hughes,’ he continued. ‘And you must, of course, call me Callum. We’re very informal here.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Nancy, forcing herself to step forward on legs which threatened to tremble and wondering what it was that had changed.

Why did Dr Callum Hughes suddenly look like the most vital person she had ever seen? More real and more of a man than any man had a right to be? She found that her chest was tight as she looked at him, her breathing was rapid and shallow and her normally cool skin was feeling oddly clammy.

Had he changed? she wondered frantically. Or had she?

‘How delightful to see you again,’ Callum said, and extended a hand with strong, square fingers, experiencing such a disconcerting flare of disappointment as he noticed the shiny gold wedding band which circled her finger. Had she been wearing one before? he wondered.

Nancy allowed her hand to be firmly taken and shaken by his and tried to dampen the panicky feeling which was welling up inside her. Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to examine instead the man who seemed to be the cause of it.

From beneath the silky black cover of her eyelashes she allowed herself a brief but thorough scrutiny of the man with whom she would be working so closely for the next year.

Quite the most distinctive thing about him was his size, she decided immediately. He was well over six feet tall, with a powerfully muscular frame to match—more of a farmer’s physique than a physician’s, in Nancy’s opinion, with those strong, solid limbs and rugged features. He had a healthy looking energy about him that suggested a life spent mainly in the fresh air, rather than in the dark and smoky atmosphere of a nightclub.

And, although it was January, he was more tanned than last time she’d seen him. His skin was the deep, glowing colour produced by the sun on the ski-slopes, rather than the even tan of the dedicated sun-worshipper. His shoulders and arms certainly looked powerful enough to make light of the blackest of black runs, Nancy found herself thinking. Then she drew herself up, appalled at the forbidden paths her mind was taking. And she a married woman, too!

His deep voice interrupted her confused thoughts. ‘Do sit down. I’ll ring for coffee—’

‘Oh, please don’t, not just on my account,’ Nancy protested.

‘I’m not. It’s on mine. And don’t worry,’ he added, with the glimmer of a smile, ‘I won’t feel at all inhibited or put out by the fact that you don’t wish to join me—’

‘Actually, I’d love some coffee,’ said Nancy with sudden fervour, sinking into the chair he had indicated. She briefly closed her eyes and relaxed for the first time in days.

His eyes narrowed as he saw some of the tension ease out of her petite frame. Then he lifted the telephone on his desk to ask for coffee while Nancy cast her eyes quickly round his consulting room, wondering just how much she would be able to tell about Callum Hughes from his working environment.

His was a large, pale surgery with one huge window, the bottom half of which was glazed in frosted glass—presumably to allow for patient privacy, Nancy decided. The top of the window allowed a view of the still-bare branches of trees, etched like broomsticks against the bright blue of the winter sky.

An old-fashioned wooden playpen, standing on one comer, was filled with a variety of toys, and on a brightly painted shelf above it was an impressive line of story-books for all different ages.

So he was considerate with children, too, thought Nancy, and a funny little lurch in her chest made her feel momentarily rather uncomfortable...

In one corner of the room stood a large fish tank full of rainbow-coloured shapes that darted around plants which swayed in the bubbles of the illuminated green water.

Callum had been watching her slow appraisal, and he waited until she had finished before saying with some amusement, ‘And do you like my surgery, young Dr Greenwood?’

And then he wondered why he had said something as archaic as ‘young’! Not something he normally did. So, was his subconscious, he asked himself critically, simply using a word designed to create some kind of distance between them? And, if so, was that really necessary at this stage?

Nancy had raised her eyebrows at his terminology and as their eyes met—his rueful, hers questioning—she suddenly burst out laughing, the spontaneous sound surprising both of them. To his astonishment, he found himself joining in.

‘Young Dr Greenwood is fine, thank you very much,’ she told him gravely. ‘She adores your fish tank, and she’s just itching to get into that playpen!’

‘Did I sound very patronising?’ he asked her seriously.

‘No.’ Nancy shook her glossy head thoughtfully. ‘Not at all. You sounded—um—’

‘Paternal?’

No, certainly not paternal! ‘More avuncular,’ she prevaricated, looking up gratefully as the door of the surgery opened and in walked one of the receptionists with a tray of coffee.

Callum immediately took the tray from the receptionist and cleared a space for it on his desk, before introducing them. ‘Margaret, this is Nancy Greenwood, my new GP registrar.’

‘Hello, Dr Greenwood,’ said Margaret, giving Nancy a wide and friendly smile. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy during your time with us.’

‘And why wouldn’t she be?’ queried Callum teasingly. ‘We’ve a very happy practice.’

Margaret pulled an expressive he-must-be-joking sort of face, exclusively for Nancy’s benefit, and left them to it.

Callum poured their coffee. ‘How do you take it?’ he asked, glancing up.’

‘As it comes, please,’ answered Nancy.

He handed her a steaming cup of black and unsugared coffee. ‘No wonder you’re so tiny,’ he commented, as he added both cream and sugar to his own and offered her a biscuit.

And he didn’t look at all bad on cream and sugar, Nancy found herself thinking, accepting a chocolate digestive as her stomach reminded her that she had rushed out of the house without eating any breakfast. Not an ounce of surplus fat anywhere, by the look of him. ‘I’m strong for my size,’ she defended.

‘I’m sure you are.’ Callum drank his coffee, then put down his empty cup and leaned back in his chair to look at her, trying to view her simply as a colleague—and a married colleague, to boot—instead of as a very attractive young woman. And it wasn’t easy, he discovered, but he was at a loss to understand why. Not easy at all. ‘So, where do we begin, Nancy Greenwood?’ he asked gruffly.

‘At the beginning?’ she joked, wondering just what had made his green eyes grow so serious.

He nodded. ‘OK. The beginning it is. We’d better begin with the district itself. How much to you know about Purbrook and the surrounding area?’

‘Very little,’ responded Nancy truthfully. ‘We only moved into the area a month ago.’

We. The possessive word produced an inexplicably sour taste in Callum’s mouth but he hoped that his reaction didn’t show on his face. ‘Yes, of course. You’re married, aren’t you?’

For some absurd reason the question caught her off guard. ‘Yes, I am,’ she answered in a low voice.

‘And where do you live?

‘In Tenterdon,’ she answered, mentioning the picturesque market town which was approximately seven miles away.

He saw her look of bemusement and correctly interpreted it. ‘Don’t worry, Nancy,’ he remarked drily, ‘I’m not planning to turn up on your doorstep at odd times for surprise tutorials!’

‘I’m very pleased to hear it!’ Nancy blanched as she tried to imagine her husband’s reaction if he did!

‘Are you registered with a doctor in Tenterdon, or were you planning to sign on with this practice?’

And risk Callum Hughes ministering to her if she should happen to fall ill? No fear! Nancy shook her head vigorously and stared steadily at the man in front of her. ‘I wasn’t going to, no. I’m perfectly happy where I am.’

Glad to divert his attention from the rather absorbing tawny-brown colour of her eyes, Callum slid open one of the desk drawers, took out a shiny clutch of leaflets and handed them to her.

‘Then you won’t have seen our practice brochure,’ he explained, smiling as he pointed to the stick-like drawing on the front cover of a man covered in lurid red spots. ‘We had a competition amongst all our younger patients for the cover design. The winner had all the delight of seeing her work in print—’

‘Oh, but it’s brilliant!’ she enthused as she took the leaflet from him and stared down to admire the youthful artistry. ‘Absolutely brilliant!’

His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘It is rather good, isn’t it?’

‘And can I keep this?’

‘Of course you can. I sincerely hope you’ll refer to it frequently!’ Callum found himself smiling again as he watched her tuck the papers into a slim leather briefcase.

‘Oh, day and night,’ she promised, and clipped the case shut. ‘It will never leave my side!’

Callum’s eyes twinkled. In his opinion, a sense of humour applied to the working day wasn’t just preferable but necessary. ‘Most of the information given in the brochure about the practice is self-explanatory,’ he told her. ‘We are a semi-rural practice with a list size of just over five thousand patients. You really should become familiar with the geography and social class ecology of the practice area as soon as possible.’

‘Right.’ Nancy made a mental note to do that this very weekend.

‘It’s sensible to have a map of the practice with you at all times,’ he continued, ‘and to begin to become familiar with traffic flow dining weekdays, and in particular at rush hours—although our rush hours are pretty small stuff compared to what inner-city doctors have to contend with.’

‘I bought a map at the weekend,’ said Nancy eagerly.

He smiled at her obvious enthusiasm. ‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘As for the other members of the practice, I have two partners whom you’ll meet later on. One is male and one female and I’ll stagger the introductions as it’s your first day, otherwise you won’t remember anybody! We have a full complement of staff here, with a practice nurse, a district nurse, health visitor, midwife and community psychiatric nurse.’

Nancy nodded. ‘As well as all the usual ancillary staff of receptionists, typists, a bookkeeper and filing clerk, I suppose?’

Callum smiled. ‘For “ancillary” substitute “indispensable”! We would simply be unable to function without efficient receptionists who were firmly on our side. And we’re very much a team here,’ he added quickly.

Now was that an admonishment? Nancy wondered fleetingly. Had word reached him that within seconds of walking into the building she had clumsily been trying to explain an open-ended sentence to one of the receptionists and getting a rather stony-faced response?

But his face was resolutely non-judgemental, and Nancy inwardly reprimanded herself. She was getting paranoid, that was all. Too much criticism at home was making her normally strong sense of self-worth begin to crumble.

‘And a team is what I want to be part of,’ she told him firmly.

Her declaration seemed almost defiant, observed Callum thoughtfully. ‘Good,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ve drawn up a timetable for you, but this is flexible and will change as you grow in confidence.’ He pushed the neat chart across the desk at her, and Nancy began to study it.

‘At first, you’ll sit in on my surgeries and accompany me on my visits,’ he told her. ‘Then, when we both feel that you’re ready to see patients on your own, we will give you small, selected surgeries. But remember that I’m always next door if you run into any problems.’

‘I’ll do my very best not to,’ she told him with a smile.

‘Good. Every day we’ll have short tutorials on conditions we’ve encountered that day—influenza epidemics notwithstanding, of course! And once a week we’ll have a longer tutorial on a subject which you will be able to choose—’

‘Unless there’s a topic which you feel I ought learn about?’ she guessed.

Callum nodded, pleased at her perception. ‘That’s right. There is also an afternoon day-release course at St Saviour’s Hospital on Wednesday afternoons especially for GP registrars, which I think you’ll find very useful as well as providing an opportunity for you to meet some other people in the same boat as yourself.

‘And I intend to go lightly with you when I’m on call.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll make sure you get all the experience you need, but I’m aware that you’ll need to study for your membership exam so if I’m up all night, working, I won’t necessarily expect you to be!’ His green eyes glittered as he watched her eyes widen. ‘Any questions?’

Nancy gazed at him in a rather dazed fashion as the reality of just how much work she would have to do hit her. ‘It sounds frantic,’ she ventured.

Callum shook his head. ‘It sounds more daunting than it actually is, but most of the job you’ll learn as you go along. I often think that there is no finer tutor than experience, and in medicine this is especially true.’

‘And presumably I’ll be driven by a “need to know”?’ prompted Nancy. ‘Which will make me eager to learn?’

Callum nodded his dark head approvingly. ‘You’ve obviously been reading up on the subject.’

‘A bit.’ Not as much as she would have liked, of course. Steve, her husband, had made sure of that. Nancy had wondered lately if he saw her career as some kind of threat. Sometimes he seemed almost jealous of the time she tried to put into her background reading.

He’d complained last night when she’d been curled up beside him on the sofa after dinner.

‘Must you keep reading that?’ he’d demanded.

Nancy had been bent over a textbook, trying her level best to get to grips with its particularly stodgy content, her dark, shiny hair falling in splendid disarray over her shoulders. She had calmly lifted her head to meet her husband’s accusing stare head-on.

‘I must spend a little time on my reading, Steve,’ she’d observed, her voice determinedly conciliatory as she’d fruitlessly attempted to delay the row which would inevitably follow.

‘But I thought that the whole point of you going into general practice was to stop working unsociable hours so that we could spend more time together!’ He scowled.

Nancy laid her book down on her lap and tried to block out the whining tone in his voice. ‘Actually, I thought the whole point of me going into general practice was to have an interesting and varied workload, while mixing with the whole community,’ she corrected drily.

‘And while I’m training I need to do plenty of reading, which I would have to do whichever speciality I’d chosen. I have an examination to take at the end of this year of training, and general practice is a busy job, you know, Steve.’

Steve looked at her disbelievingly. ‘Well, our family GP used to spend three quarters of his time on the golf course!’

‘And you think that’s admirable, do you?’ Nancy challenged, thinking how glad she was that such unprofessionalism would no longer be tolerated in these hardworking times.

‘I think a lot of things,’ he said with a glower, ‘but I don’t think that you’d care to hear any of them!’

He stood up and poured himself another three fingers of whisky, a practice which had been occurring much more frequently of late. ‘And you can stop glaring at me like that!’ he declared as he gazed unsteadily into her brown eyes.

‘I wasn’t glaring!’

‘Oh, yes, you were! And I can tell you something else, Nancy Greenwood—that the amount of time you spend with your nose in a bloody textbook would drive a saint to drink!’

And Steve was certainly no saint...

* * *

Yet as Nancy looked across the desk at the approving face of her trainer she found herself thinking how wonderful it would be to have a partner who actually supported you, instead of undermining your determination to succeed.

But allowing her thoughts to drift in that direction would do no good whatsoever. There was absolutely no point in wishing for what you knew deep down you would never get...

Callum saw the apprehension that clouded her clear, brown eyes, but even if he hadn’t correctly read it there it would have been apparent from her demeanour.

Her whole delicately boned frame had tensed, as though she were uncomfortable in her own body. Those narrow shoulders—tiny shoulders, Callum found himself thinking with an almost protective pang—were all bunched up beneath that navy blue suit she was wearing.

He looked at her clothes properly for the first time.

Callum was not the kind of person who was particularly interested in the clothes that women wore. And whilst the man in him could recognise and acknowledge the sexual allure of a woman clad in a shimmering and clinging gown—with all its accompanying glitz—he nevertheless preferred women to look more natural. He liked the kind of woman who would climb out of bed and into an old pair of jeans to walk for miles, before tackling a hearty breakfast.

He sighed. Bit of a shortage of those women, really. And—here his eyes flickered to Nancy’s structured navy jacket—this woman wouldn’t fit into that category either. Not with a suit that must have cost most of a month’s salary. Callum couldn’t have named a dress designer to save his life, but he was enough of an aesthete to recognise and appreciate the superb cut of the finely woven material and the way it moulded itself so beautifully to the curving lines of her body.

Their eyes met, and something in his expression made Nancy’s cheeks grow faintly pink.

Callum shook his head impatiently. For God’s sake, man, he told himself, she was his trainee and she was married so he’d better stop ogling her right now!

He put on his professional smile, with a brisk professional tone to match. ‘We’ve a few minutes to spare so I’ll give you a quick guided tour of the health centre. Then we’d better get a couple of these visits out of the way before lunch,’ he said brusquely.

He stood up, and immediately dominated the surgery. ‘I tend to buy a sandwich and eat it in between visits. I hope that’s OK with you? That way we can talk in the car on the way.’

‘Right,’ gulped Nancy, wondering what had prompted his sudden change of disposition.

‘Then let’s go,’ he said in a clipped voice, and led the way out of the surgery.

Callum’s bad mood lasted only as long as it took them to reach their first visit. Nancy couldn’t help noticing that he was politeness personified when it came to dealing with patients.

The visits which were logged in his book were fairly straightforward. First up was a new baby to check over, who had just arrived home from hospital.

The family lived in a small house on one of Purbrook’s two housing estates, and it seemed completely swamped by baby equipment. There were numerous toys and giant packets of nappies, as well as an enormous pram, a pushchair and a car seat. And Nancy only just narrowly avoided tripping over a baby-walker!

Mrs Morris, the new mother, seemed rather stupefied by the whole experience, although Daniel, her baby, glugged away happily at her breast. ‘I can’t take it all in,’ she murmured. ‘There just seems to be so much which is new!’

‘Baby shock,’ said Callum with a grin as he straightened up from listening to Daniel’s chest. ‘It happens to all new mums, Mrs Morris, but, rest assured, you have a fine, bouncing baby. Oh, and I’m very glad to see you’re breast-feeding!’

Mrs Morris cast a rueful eye around the cramped sitting room. ‘I simply wouldn’t have had room for a steriliser and all the bottles, even if I’d wanted to!’ she told them. ‘We’re hoping to move to a cottage on the outskirts of Purbrook soon. It’s very basic but there’s room to build on—my husband is a builder, you know—and it’s got a huge garden!’

‘Plenty of room for young Daniel to run around, then,’ said Callum, with an approving nod.

‘That was the general idea,’ agreed Mrs Morris, staring lovingly down at her baby’s bald head.

Their next port of call was to a small, sheltered housing complex for the elderly. ‘I want to pop in on an old lady named Ethel Waters and take her blood pressure—it’s been all over the place lately,’ explained Callum, as the car drew up in the well-tended grounds.

‘Can’t she get out to the surgery, then?’ queried Nancy.

He pulled a face. ‘She can, but she’s fairly immobile due to arthritis. I tend to think that it’s not much of an outing for a lady in pain to have to get down to the doctor’s surgery!’

Nancy smiled with delight at his level of understanding and consideration. ‘That’s very sweet of you,’ she told him.

‘Why, thank you, Nancy,’ he responded, but the mock gravity in his voice couldn’t disguise the unaccountable pleasure he took in her praise.

They were drinking a cup of tea with the old lady, whose blood pressure was reassuringly low, when Callum’s bleeper went off.

‘May I use your telephone, please, Mrs Waters?’ he enquired putting his empty teacup down in the saucer.

‘Course you can, Doctor!’

The call was urgent, and they drove to it as quickly as the law would allow. ‘What’s up?’ asked Nancy, as he roared past a picturesque grey church.

‘An elderly lady is wandering around her garden naked?’ he replied calmly.

‘Who?’ cried Nancy in alarm.

‘Mrs Dolly Anderson,’ said Callum. ‘She’s an elderly patient with dementia, and she copes well enough with the assistance of the home help and Meals-on-Wheels.’

‘And has she ever done anything like this before?’ asked Nancy.

‘Never.’

‘Then I wonder what’s changed,’ said Nancy thoughtfully.

Callum’s eyes gleamed at her perceptiveness. ‘Precisely,’ he observed, his voice equally thoughtful.

Their answer came soon enough. Once Mrs Anderson had been gently persuaded into the house and into a dressing-gown Callum was able to assess his patient properly.

Only when he had concluded his examination did Callum turn to Nancy. ‘Mrs Anderson is wheezy and has a slight cough and temperature. Do you want to have a shot at a diagnosis?’

‘Could it be a chest infection?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Which would make her more than usually confused?’

He nodded. ‘I think so. I’m going to admit her to the medical ward at St Saviour’s—that’s if they have a bed!’

They did, although Callum had to sweet-talk the admitting team into allocating them one.

‘Hospital beds are like gold dust these days,’ he complained as he talked Nancy through the admission procedure, before setting off for the surgery.