am always open to new ideas,’ she told him between gritted teeth. ‘However, as I made clear before, I shall decide how the surgery should be run.’
‘And whoever works there will just have to fit in.’
His tone was bland so she couldn’t blame that for the fact that she felt a bit ridiculous all of a sudden. It was completely contrary to her nature to lay down the law, yet that’s what she’d done both now and earlier on in the staffroom. She was sorely tempted to apologise for her behaviour, only she wasn’t sure if it would be wise to show any sign of weakness in front of him. It was a relief when he changed the subject by asking her about the patient they were about to visit.
‘I think I mentioned that Ben was ploughing when the accident happened,’ she explained in a deliberately neutral tone. ‘He ploughed up some old oildrums which had been dumped in one of the fields, and when he got off the tractor to see what they contained, he ended up inhaling a massive dose of raw chromium fumes.’
‘How on earth did drums of chromium get into his field?’
‘Nobody knows.’ Helen shrugged. ‘The police are still investigating, but they think it might have been waste from the local tannery. It closed down a couple of years ago and the police are trying to trace the owners.’
‘I see. So what happened to Mr Harmon as a result of the accident?’
‘There was some damage to his nasal passages but the ENT specialist has sorted that out now. The real problem has been the burns on his arms. He’s been seeing a plastic surgeon at the local hospital so today I want to check how he’s progressing.’
‘So this visit isn’t because he’s actually ill?’
‘No. But it’s our policy to follow up on a patient, as I explained at your interview,’ she said, trying not to bridle at the implied criticism.
‘I remember. I also recall telling you that it was a policy I’d adopted myself. However, when I saw patients following their surgery, it was because I was still responsible for their care. If you’ve passed this patient over to a consultant, I would have thought your part in the proceedings had ended.’
‘Follow-up care doesn’t come with a cut-off point. I was and still am Ben Harmon’s first point of call for any future medical treatment. I like to be fully prepared so I know what I might be dealing with.’
‘An admirable sentiment but also a luxury few GPs can afford. Most are happy to hand over a patient to someone else to free up their time.’
‘Then that’s obviously where I differ from most GPs. I take my responsibilities to my patients very seriously,’ she shot back, stung into replying with more vigour than she’d intended.
‘Maybe too seriously,’ he suggested, his voice grating in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck spring to attention.
Helen didn’t reply, afraid that if she said anything it might be too revealing. Letting him know about the power he had over her would be a mistake and she knew it, too. However, her silence didn’t appear to deter him, as she’d hoped it would.
‘There’s no doubt that you’re totally committed to the welfare of your patients, Helen, but is it right that you should put them first all the time and yourself second?’
‘I have no idea what—’
‘I’m talking about,’ he finished for her. ‘And that just makes it worse. You obviously can’t see that it’s wrong to work yourself into the ground the way you’re doing, and wrong to devote every waking minute to your job.’
He placed his hand on her arm and she had to make a conscious effort not to react when she felt the warmth of his fingers seeping into her skin. ‘When was the last time you took a holiday, for instance?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ she retorted, shrugging off his hand because if she allowed it to remain there she’d want to feel it on other parts of her body as well.
The thought was too much, coming on top of all the others. She drew up at the side of the road and turned to glare at him. ‘How dare you pass judgement on how I choose to conduct my life? You’ve been at the surgery for less than a week yet you seem to think that you know everything about me.’
‘It wasn’t difficult to formulate a fairly clear picture of your life.’
He didn’t back down, certainly didn’t apologise, and her heart spasmed in fear because she wasn’t sure if she was up to winning this argument. Reaching for the handbrake, she went to set off again but this time his hand closed over hers, hard and firm as he stopped her.
‘Your life can be summed up in one word, Helen: work. While it might be admirable to show a certain degree of dedication, you are taking it to extremes, and that isn’t good for you or the rest of the staff. A good manager leads by example.’
‘Thank you for that advice, Dr Cole. However, this isn’t London and while your theories might work there they don’t apply here. I don’t have the luxury of a team of staff at my beck and call. If I didn’t put one hundred per cent effort into my job, we wouldn’t be able to keep the practice running.’
‘Which is why it’s so important to cut down on any unnecessary work. The whole appointment system needs to be streamlined and made more selective. That way everyone will benefit. Patients who need extra care will get it and the staff won’t be run ragged, trying to do everything.’
‘Nobody else has complained. Maybe they are more used to hard work than you are.’
‘And maybe they don’t want to make your life any more difficult. Everyone can see that you’re doing too much, Helen. You need to ease off and find some outside interests. Working the number of hours that you do isn’t good for anyone.’
‘I’m not listening to any more,’ she murmured, but he ignored her and carried on stripping away her defences as though they were tissue thin.
‘You’re the first to arrive each morning and the last to leave each night. Even on Sunday, when I drove past the surgery to show Kristy where I would be working, your car was parked outside. Despite what you might think, I worked damned hard in my last post, but I knew when I needed to take time off and I took it. It makes me very sad to think that you haven’t anything better to do with your life apart from work.’
He let go of her hand and she shrank back in her seat when he touched her lightly on the cheek because the feel of his fingers on her skin was every bit as potent as she’d imagined it would be.
‘You deserve more than a life that’s comprised solely of work, Helen.’
‘So how do you feel today, Mr Harmon?’
‘A lot better than I did.’ The young farmer smiled wryly. ‘I really thought my number was up when I breathed in those fumes. If it hadn’t been for Polly, it might have been, too.’
‘Polly?’ Lewis made a conscious effort to appear interested. Maybe it wouldn’t make up for what he’d done by telling Helen that her life was a mess, but it might make him feel a bit better.
‘The dog.’ Ben Harmon put his hand on the German shepherd’s head. The animal responded immediately,
