will mean us having to advertise again and that will take time. That’s why I was wondering if you’d consider helping out?’
‘You want me to cover until you find someone?’
‘Yes. Or, better still, maybe consider taking the job on a permanent basis,’ Simon said quietly. ‘With all the changes we’re having to make now that we’ve been awarded health centre status, I need staff I can rely on. You fit the bill perfectly, darling, although I’ll understand if you feel it’s too much, living and working with your father.’
‘I’d never thought about it,’ Becky said slowly. ‘But it does make sense. I mean, I need a job and if I’m working here at the surgery then I’ll be on hand for Millie. I have to admit that I was worried about leaving her for long stretches, even if she was with Mum.’
‘So you’ll think about it?’ Simon said hopefully.
Becky smiled. ‘There’s nothing to think about. I’d be delighted to take the job if you think I’m suitable.’
‘Great!’ Simon gave her a hug then glanced at his watch. He grimaced. ‘I know this is a bit of cheek, but is there any chance that you could start right away? We’re overrun with patients needing BP checks this morning and it would really help to take the pressure off us if you would give Brenda a hand.’
‘Slave driver!’ Becky laughed. ‘Of course I can start immediately, so long as Mum will look after Millie.’
‘Oh, there’s no problem about that. Your mother is longing to have this little one all to herself for a couple of hours,’ Simon assured her. ‘I’ll just let her know what’s happening.’
Becky cleared up after her father left, feeling her spirits lift when it struck her that she’d taken her first step towards regaining her independence. Once she was earning regular money, she could look for a place of her own, somewhere she could turn into a proper home for her and Millie. Millie needed stability after all the recent upsets and Becky was determined she was going to give her that.
A shadow darkened her face as she lifted the little girl down from the chair and dried her hands. What had Steve said during their last fateful conversation, that he wished they’d never had a child? Her mouth compressed. No way was Millie ever going to find out that her father had wished she hadn’t been born! It had been a terrible thing to say even in the heat of anger. She couldn’t imagine Ewan even thinking such a thing, let alone saying it.
She sighed as once again she found herself thinking about Ewan. Although she had tried to blot out all thoughts of him, she hadn’t succeeded. Their chance encounter had affected her far more than it should have done and she could only thank her lucky stars that it was unlikely they would meet again. Their paths certainly wouldn’t cross when Ewan was working in London and she was living and working here.
‘Mrs Rose? I’m Ewan MacLeod, one of the registrars. I believe you took a bit of a tumble this morning.’
Ewan smiled at the elderly lady lying on the bed. It was midday and he hadn’t stopped since he’d arrived at six that morning. The emergency department of Pinscombe General Hospital was a very busy place. It served the communities of three major towns plus a number of smaller ones like Bride’s Bay.
His heart gave that all-too-familiar jolt it had started doing every time Bride’s Bay was mentioned, and he swallowed a sigh. He really was a sad case if the mere mention of the place where Becky lived had this effect on him. Drawing up a chair, he sat down beside the bed. It was time to concentrate on his patient.
‘Can you tell me what happened, Mrs Rose?’
‘It was so silly, really,’ the old lady replied. ‘I was carrying my washing out to peg it on the line when I tripped over Mog.’
‘Mog? Who’s that, then? Your dog?’
‘No, my cat, of course,’ Edith Rose said sharply, treating him to a frosty glare.
Ewan grimaced. ‘My mistake. Sorry.’ He frowned. ‘But why on earth did you call your cat Mog? I thought moggies were mice.’
‘Hmm, it all depends which part of the country you come from,’ Mrs Rose informed him tartly. ‘Where I come from, young man, a moggy is a cat.’
‘I stand corrected.’ Ewan laughed, pleased to see that there was nothing wrong with her mental faculties. He had a feeling that Mrs Rose wouldn’t appreciate the usual questions used to determine an elderly patient’s mental prowess, such as the date and the name of the current prime minister. He put a tick in the relevant box on the patient’s history and heard the old lady sniff.
‘Convinced you that I’m compos mentis, have I?’
‘Absolutely.’ Ewan put the clipboard down and folded his arms. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your mind, Mrs Rose.’
‘I wish you’d tell that to my son. He seems to think I’m going gaga. No doubt he’ll try to use this as an excuse to put me into a nursing home.’
Ewan frowned when he heard the tremor in the old lady’s voice. ‘I take it that it isn’t what you want?’
‘Certainly not. I’ve lived on my own for almost forty years now since my husband died. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to live with a group of strangers.’
‘There’s no reason why you should have to leave your home because of this accident,’ Ewan assured her. He picked up the tablet computer and showed her the X-ray she’d had done on admission. ‘There’s no sign of a fracture. Granted, your leg is badly bruised and the cut will need dressing to make sure it heals properly, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.’
‘Are you sure?’ Relief washed over the old lady’s face when he nodded. ‘Thank heavens. Geoffrey has been going on and on about me moving into a home and I was sure this would be the excuse he needed to have me admitted.’
Ewan shook his head. ‘No. So long as you feel that you can manage on your own, that’s fine. And even if you do have problems, there’s help available. Your GP should be able to put you in touch with social services and they can assess the level of help you need.’
‘That’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you.’ Edith Rose smiled at him. ‘Thank you, young man. You’ve made an old lady very happy.’
‘Good.’ Ewan laughed as he stood up. ‘I’m just going to phone your GP and let him know what’s happened. As I said, your leg will need dressing so we need to arrange for it to be done at the surgery.’
‘Old flesh doesn’t heal as fast as young does,’ Mrs Rose observed wryly and he grinned.
‘I’m afraid not.’
He went to the desk to make the call, unsurprised to discover that Mrs Rose was registered with Bride’s Bay Surgery. A lot of the people he’d seen since he’d started at Pinscombe General had been registered with the practice, which meant it must be a very busy place to work. He asked to speak to the practice nurse when the receptionist answered, shaking his head when one of the nurses came over to see if he could look at a patient for her.
‘I’m tied up at the moment,’ he began then stopped when a voice came over the line, a voice that was all too familiar.
‘Sister
