The Doctor's Christmas Gift

Catherine shrugged, more than a little surprised by the observation. ‘Most people tend to be like that, surely. They put up a front.’

‘To a degree, yes. However, in an area like this, where image and status are so important, it can be a real problem. Maybe Lauren can’t have children. Maybe her husband doesn’t want them. Who knows? When your life seems perfect to all intents and purposes, you tend to paper over the cracks—hide the bad bits to keep up appearances in front of your friends.’ He shrugged. ‘The problem is that the bad bits have a way of revealing themselves one way or another.’

‘And Lauren’s dizzy spells could be an outlet for what is going wrong in her life?’ Catherine nodded thoughtfully as she considered that possibility. In a way, it was only what she had been wondering, although Matthew had put a slightly different spin on the idea.

‘Yes. If there is no physical cause for her illness then we should try to find a psychological cause.’

‘I did think of that. I asked Lauren if there was anything worrying her but once again I have to use that same word and say that she became extremely defensive.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best. What about her husband? Do you know anything about him?’

‘Not a lot. I’ve only met him once when they registered with us. He came in for a new-patient check-up.’ Matthew shrugged. ‘He seemed a pleasant enough chap, a bit full of himself but that’s nothing unusual in his line of work.’

‘What does he do? I imagine it’s something quite high-powered.’

‘Peter makes documentaries for television, I believe. I know he was telling me about something he was working on, but I don’t recall it ever being broadcast. Although I’m not the best person to ask when it comes to intellectual programmes.’

He grinned. ‘My viewing tends to consist mainly of children’s programmes. I’m a whiz when it comes to the latest cartoons. I reckon I could win top prize on one of those game shows so long as my specialist subject was the latest cartoon hero to hit the screens!’

Catherine couldn’t help laughing. ‘A talent like that should be nurtured. Not everyone your age could make such a claim.’

‘Don’t!’ He winced. ‘I have a birthday coming up and I’m rather sensitive when it comes to the subject of age.’

It was obvious that he didn’t mean a word of it and why should he? she thought, taking stock of his muscular physique. Matthew was in his prime and many men his age—and younger—would be delighted to be in such excellent shape.

She looked away when she realised where her mind was wandering again. She could hardly believe it had happened a second time. ‘On the surface, then, they seem to be a couple who have everything going for them,’ she observed, deciding it was safer to stick to work.

‘On the surface, yes. But you know as well as I do that it’s impossible to judge by appearances.’ Matthew frowned. ‘I remember Glenda saying one time after Lauren had been to see her that she felt that there was something the woman wasn’t telling her.’

‘I got that impression, too. How strange. I had this feeling that she wanted to tell me what was wrong but that she was…well, afraid to do so.’ Catherine sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have let her rush off like that, should I?’

‘You couldn’t have stopped her,’ he protested, then stopped as Margaret, one of the receptionists, popped her head round the door.

‘I hate to disturb you, Matt, but there’s a queue outside.’ She shot a pointed look at her watch. ‘Your eleven o’clock appointment has arrived and your eleven-fifteen…’

‘OK. I can take a hint!’ Matthew laughed as he got up. ‘Anyway, you can blame Catherine this time, not me. She’s the culprit.’

‘Me?’ Catherine echoed in astonishment.

‘Uh-huh. I was so fascinated by our conversation that I didn’t realise so much time had elapsed. Ergo, it’s all your fault!’

He gave her a decidedly wicked smile then sauntered out of the room. Catherine hurried to explain when she saw the speculation on Margaret’s face. It was obvious the other woman had completely misunderstood Matt’s remark.

‘Matt…Dr Fielding…meant he was fascinated by a case we’ve been discussing,’ she gabbled, her tongue tripping over itself in her haste to set matters straight.

‘Of course, Dr Lewis.’

Margaret’s tone was so bland that the words conveyed exactly the opposite meaning they should have done. Catherine felt heat suffuse her when she realised that the receptionist didn’t believe a word she’d said. Did Margaret think that Matt had been wasting his time chatting her up instead of seeing to his patients?

It was on the tip of her tongue to assure Margaret that wasn’t the case when she suddenly thought better of it. Wasn’t there a saying about protesting too much?

‘I’ll send in your next patient, then, shall I, Dr Lewis?’ Margaret asked in the same bland tone.

Catherine nodded because it seemed an awful lot safer. No protestations would pass her lips, no explanations, nothing. She wasn’t going to give the staff at the surgery anything to gossip about!

‘Has she gone?’ Matt glanced furtively along the corridor as he sidled back into her room. He treated Catherine to a conspiratorial smile. ‘I should have warned you that Margaret is a real termagant when it comes to her beloved appointment system. You dice with death if you mess it up! Anyway, I daren’t risk getting in her bad books again so I’ll see you after surgery. In the kitchen around twelve-thirty. OK?’

‘I…um. Why? I mean, what do you need to see me about?’ she demanded, her voice rising by at least an octave. She cleared her throat, striving hard to achieve her usual even tone. ‘There isn’t much we can do unless Lauren is prepared to tell us what is really wrong with her.’

‘There isn’t. However, it wasn’t Lauren I wanted to talk to you about.’

Matthew cast another wary glance over his shoulder when the door leading from the waiting room opened. ‘I need to ask your advice this time, Catherine. The old two heads theory and all that. So, I’ll see you in the kitchen later. And don’t let Margaret know that I’ve been in here again or she’ll have me shot for dereliction of duty!’

He disappeared and a moment later Catherine heard him greeting his patient with some quip or other. The sound of their laughter was abruptly cut off as his consulting-room door closed.

She took a deep breath, added another for good measure, then went for the hat trick. It didn’t work. Maybe Matthew’s invitation to meet him in the kitchen hadn’t had quite the same ring to it as Meet me under the clock and I’ll wear a red rose, but it had certainly had an effect on her equilibrium. Making a date…any kind of a date…with Matthew Fielding made her feel very vulnerable indeed!

CHAPTER THREE

‘HI, THERE! I’ve made coffee and there’s some sandwiches if you’re hungry.’

It was twelve thirty-two, precisely. Catherine had checked her watch enough times to know that without having to check it again. The whole time she had been working through the rest of her morning list she had been conscious of the minutes ticking away and bringing the moment for her meeting with Matt ever closer. Maybe it was ridiculous to have got herself so worked up, but she hadn’t been able to help it. It certainly didn’t settle her mind to see the coffee-mugs and plates of sandwiches arranged on the table either. Was this really a work-related meeting, as he’d claimed?

‘Sit yourself down. It’s just milk, isn’t it? You don’t take sugar?’ Matthew picked up the coffee-pot and brought it over to the table. He put it down on a mat and frowned when he realised she was still standing in the doorway. ‘Catherine?’

‘I…um. No.’ She saw his brows arch and hurriedly tried to get a grip on herself. She wasn’t helping the situation by acting like a halfwit.

‘No, I don’t take sugar,’ she explained as much for her own benefit as for his. Keep things simple, Catherine! she chided herself. Stick to the rules. Rule number one was to always maintain her composure. Rule number two was never to mix work with pleasure. Rule number three…

She sighed because there was no point going any further. Rule number three—always to be on her guard—was proving as difficult to adhere to as numbers one and two. Matthew seemed to have a particular knack of sliding past her defences!

She pulled out a chair while Matt filled the mugs with coffee. He shoved the plate of sandwiches towards her then sat down opposite her. ‘Try one of these. You won’t be disappointed, I promise you. Mum makes the best sandwiches ever.’

Catherine took a sandwich simply because it was easier to comply than refuse. She bit into the moist brown bread and gave a little sigh of pleasure as the flavour of perfectly cooked roast beef and grainy mustard rioted around her taste buds.

‘Told you, didn’t I?’

The smugness in his voice made her smile despite herself.

‘Yes, you did, so you can stop crowing. I don’t suppose your mother would like a job? My cooking leaves an awful lot to be desired!’

‘No way! You are not poaching her off me. Oh, I might agree to share her on the odd occasion but I saw her first, so hands off.’ He took a swallow of his coffee then looked enquiringly at her. ‘Anyway, haven’t you a mother of your own who will take pity on you?’

‘No.’ Catherine picked up her mug and drank a little of the excellent coffee, using the few seconds it took to remove all expression from her face. ‘She died when I was a teenager.’

‘Oh, hell! I’m sorry, Catherine.’ He reached over the table and squeezed her fingers. ‘Me and my big mouth, eh?’

‘You weren’t to know.’

She eased her hand out of his grasp and picked up her sandwich again but there was a lump the size of Everest in her throat. It was strange because she had thought she had got over the pain of her mother’s death a long time ago, but it was as though Matt’s sympathy had released all the pent-up emotion. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to cry and hated the thought of him seeing her howling like a baby.

‘It must have been hard for you. How old were you when she died?’

His tone was neither overly sympathetic nor totally uncaring this time and Catherine felt her emotions subside to a more manageable level. ‘Fifteen. She was killed in a road traffic accident on her way home from work. She was knocked down by a bus while crossing the road.’

‘I see. So what happened to you afterwards? Did your father take care of you?’

‘No. My parents had divorced a couple of years before the accident happened. My father had moved to California and we’d lost touch,’ she explained flatly. She’d had years to come to terms with her father’s rejection and it no longer hurt as it had done once upon a time. She shrugged when Matt’s expression darkened.

‘These things happen, Matt. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, as there was no one else to look after me I was put into care and I stayed there until I went to med school. The rest, as they say, is history.’

‘So they do, but the trouble with history is that an awful lot gets lost along the way. We remember the key events but so often it’s the small, seemingly insignificant moments which have made the biggest impact on us.’

His tone was light enough to be taken as a general observation but Catherine couldn’t help wondering if he had realised that she’d left out an awful lot. The idea was far too disturbing so she decided right there and then that she should change the subject. After all, this meeting hadn’t been arranged to delve into her past. Matt had said that he needed her advice so maybe it was time she reminded him of that.

‘Anyway, enough of all that. Let’s get back to what I wanted to speak to you about.’

In the event it was Matt who set the conversation back on track and she couldn’t help feeling irritated at being forestalled. It was galling to feel as though she had no control over what was happening even though he had only done what she’d been intending to do.

‘And that was?’ she asked coolly.

‘David Marshall. He’s the patient with motor neurone disease I was called out to see the night you came for your interview, if you remember.’

His tone was bland enough yet she knew without the shadow of a doubt that he had picked up on her irritation. How did he do that? she wondered in dismay. How could he read her mind with such apparent ease? She had no idea but it was disturbing to know that he was so receptive to her mood.

‘Of course I remember,’ she replied curtly. ‘You were discussing him on the phone with Glenda.’

She realised her mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth. Matt had had no idea that she’d overheard his conversation that night but would he remember what he’d said about her? Her nerves tightened as she waited for him to answer, but he gave no sign that he was disconcerted by the comment.

‘That’s right. Both Glenda and I have treated David since he first became ill. We find that it helps him to see different people. He’s become increasingly housebound in the last couple of years and misses the contact with the outside world. We alternate our visits so that he gets a bit of variety, so to speak.’

‘It must be very difficult for him,’ Catherine observed, relieved that he hadn’t noticed her slip. ‘It’s such a cruel illness, especially in its later stages. Those people who suffer from it retain their full mental powers and awareness yet they are locked into a body which won’t obey even the most basic commands.’

‘Unfortunately, David is fast reaching that point. Until fairly recently he had some mobility and the characteristic muscle tremors weren’t too bad. However, the disease seems to have put on a spurt of late and he’s now in a wheelchair. It’s been a bitter blow for him because he was always so active. He was a rugby player when he was younger, and played for England several times. He also ran his own software company, which was extremely successful.’

‘How sad. I take it that he has help—physiotherapy, nursing care, maybe a wife or family who look after him?’

Matt sighed. ‘We’ve managed to get him nursing care and physio, but that’s basically it, I’m afraid. He was married but he and his wife got divorced when he first became ill. She couldn’t cope with the thought of him becoming disabled, apparently. That’s why Glenda and I tend to see him a bit more often than is strictly necessary. There’s very little we can do but…’

‘But you try to keep up his spirits by visiting him?’ Catherine finished for him.

He laughed. ‘How did you guess? But you’re right, of course. The problem is that David hates the idea of anyone feeling sorry for him. He’d be mortified if he discovered that we don’t need to visit him so often. We have to be very careful and do all sorts of medical procedures as a cover. I don’t think we have another patient on our books who has his blood pressure taken so many times a month!’

‘You should be working for MI5!’ Catherine declared. ‘Between sneaking about when Margaret isn’t looking and undertaking clandestine visits to patients, you’re absolutely wasted as a GP.’

‘I suppose I should get myself one of those trenchcoats and a trilby hat. I need the right clothes to play the part properly, don’t I?’ Matthew rolled his eyes when she laughed. ‘The mind boggles, doesn’t it? But leaving all that aside, what I was wondering, Cathy, was whether you’d be willing to help by standing in for Glenda while you’re working here.’

‘Of course,’ she replied immediately because she didn’t want to dwell on how it made her feel to hear him use the diminutive of her name.

She took a deep breath because she couldn’t stop herself thinking about it. She couldn’t stop herself feeling it, in fact. Ripples of warmth seemed to be floating across the surface of her mind, like clouds across a summer sky. Her father had called her Cathy as a child but nobody else had ever done so, mainly because she had discouraged them from using it. The diminutive had always seemed too familiar so that the few times her classmates in med school had used it, she had asked them not to. It was strange because it didn’t feel wrong to hear Matt using it now. Admittedly, it had generated all sorts of feelings but it didn’t feel wrong…

‘Is that a problem?’

She started when she realised that she hadn’t heard a word that he’d said. ‘Pardon?’

There was a huskiness in her voice which she had never heard in it before. She noticed it immediately but so, too, did Matt. Catherine felt her heart race when he suddenly got up from the table. He went to the sink and turned on the tap, keeping his back towards her so that she couldn’t see his expression. And when he spoke his voice was even huskier than hers had been so that she shivered when she felt the uneven timbre strumming along her nerves.

‘I was just saying that Glenda and I usually visit David outside working hours.’

He turned off the tap and she saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath. Catherine had no idea what he was hoping to achieve by it but it definitely didn’t do anything for her dilemma. Witnessing the struggle Matt was having to stay focused certainly didn’t ease her mind.

‘I know it’s an imposition to ask you to see a patient in your free time so just say if you don’t want to do it, Cath…’

‘It’s fine. Really!’ She gave the most inane laugh ever but it was better than hearing Matt call her by that seductive little name again. Pushing back her chair, she hastily got to her feet. ‘I don’t mind in the least going to see him out of surgery hours, really I don’t.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

Matt had himself under control again and she felt her knees go weak with relief when he turned and she saw that his face held nothing more than approval. ‘David is down for a visit tomorrow afternoon, as it happens. We usually pop in to see him on our free afternoons as it’s easier that way. I like to be at home with the children of an evening. It’s hard to find enough time to spend with them as it is.’

‘It must be,’ she agreed, as though bringing up a family was something she knew all about. Quite frankly, she couldn’t begin to imagine how hectic his life must be, taking care of his daughters, being, in effect, both mother and father to them. It should have made her see how lucky she was to have only herself to worry about and yet for some reason she didn’t feel lucky when she thought about it. There was no one for her to go home to after work, nobody to worry about or who would worry about her—nobody to love.

She blinked and her mind miraculously cleared. What on earth was she thinking? She liked her life exactly the way it was and having a family wasn’t something she had ever planned on doing!

‘It isn’t a problem,’ she said firmly, relieved to be back on familiar ground. ‘You can put me down for a visit tomorrow afternoon, if you like.’

‘Great! That’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you. I had visions of having to forfeit my afternoons off for the next twelve months. It would have been a nightmare because I can barely find the time to fit everything in as it is.’ He grimaced. ‘Heaven knows how I’m going to cope when Mum goes to Canada. It doesn’t bear thinking about!’

‘Canada!’ Catherine exclaimed. ‘Good heavens, when is she planning on going there?’

‘The middle of December. My sister, Cheryl, is expecting her first baby, you see, so Mum is going to stay with her until after Christmas. It’s taken me ages to persuade Mum that she should go but I know how much she wants to be with Cheryl. It isn’t fair that she should miss out because she feels she should stay here to help me look after the girls.’

‘How will you manage without her, though? Surely it won’t be easy, looking after the children as well as working?’ Catherine queried, thinking what a massive understatement that was. Just thinking about the logistics of caring for a family whilst doing a full-time job filled her with dread.

‘I’ve no idea.’ Matt grinned when she stared at him. ‘I shall just have to muddle through, I suppose. Fortunately, Becky is old enough to look after Hannah for an hour or so when they get home from school, so I shall have to try to be more efficient and get through my evening list on time. It should earn me a few brownie points with Margaret, if nothing else.’

‘Get through your list on time?’ Catherine repeated. ‘I’ll believe that when it happens.’

‘Are you implying that I’m tardy, Dr Lewis?’ he demanded, glowering at her.

‘Not at all. You aren’t tardy, Dr Fielding. You’re downright late!’

She gave him a teasing smile which wavered when she saw the expression on his face. There was laughter there, of course, but along with that there was something else…

She turned away, her heart racing as she tried to come to terms with what she had just witnessed, but it wasn’t easy to deal with the idea that Matt was attracted to her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t true but it was pointless lying after what she’d just seen. Matt regarded her not just as a colleague but as an attractive woman whom he wanted to get to know better. Whilst part of her rejoiced at the idea, another part flatly rejected it.

‘I’d better get sorted out,’ she murmured, conscious of his gaze following as she went to the door. ‘I’ve quite a few house calls to do this afternoon and I don’t want to be late getting back for evening surgery.’

‘Of course not, but don’t work too hard, will you, Cathy?’

Catherine didn’t say anything as she hurriedly left. She went straight to her room and picked up the pile of call slips Margaret had left for her. She needed to check through them so she could put them in order of priority.

The pieces of paper fell from her hands but she didn’t even notice. All she could think about was Matt’s voice when he had said her name just now: Cathy. Maybe the name could be applied to her but it certainly didn’t reflect the person she was or, rather, the one she tried to be. Cathy was the name of the woman she kept hidden away inside her.

That person didn’t need to be in control all the time. She didn’t set boundaries or live by any rules. Cathy didn’t have ambitions or goals to achieve. She was just a warm, caring, loving woman who longed to be loved in return; a woman who would do a job because it was the job she wanted to do; a woman who would love a man because—rightly or wrongly—he was the man she loved.

How Catherine envied that woman. How she feared her because it was the Cathys of this world who found true happiness yet the risks they took to achieve it were just too great. She had always known that she could be either Cathy or Catherine but that she couldn’t be both, and she had made her decision a long time ago which it had to be. Just because Matthew Fielding seemed to possess this power to disturb her, it wasn’t a good enough reason to start having second thoughts.

Catherine picked up the slips of paper. She quickly sorted them into order then left the surgery. It felt good to be back on course once more.

‘Matthew, it’s me, Catherine. Look, I’m sorry to phone you like this but I seem to have a bit of problem.’

Catherine glanced nervously over her shoulder when she heard a noise behind her but it was only a rusty old can being blown along the pavement by the wind. She huddled closer to the wall, wishing that she was safely back at the surgery.

It was almost four o’clock and she had never expected to still be doing house calls at that time of the day, but things hadn’t gone according to plan. A number of the calls she’d made that afternoon had taken far longer than she’d anticipated so that she’d been running late even before she’d arrived at the block of flats on the very edge of their catchment area. In contrast to the more prosperous streets she had driven through that afternoon, this whole area was very run-down. Most of the flats seemed to have been boarded up and there were mounds of rubbish strewn across the street. Although there was nobody about, she couldn’t deny that she felt extremely edgy.

‘What’s wrong?’ Matthew’s voice sharpened in concern and for some reason she found herself relaxing. It was strangely comforting to know that he was worried about her.