ignored the innuendo. ‘Of course, it’s entirely up to you. It is somewhat of a challenge, I agree.’ Her glance accused him of making a habit of running away from difficult situations. The glance was a test, given unconsciously. Did the telepathy still work both ways?
James McFadden’s mouth tightened. Bingo! Janet felt suddenly calmer, as though a measure of control had landed back in her court.
‘I wouldn’t call it a challenge, exactly,’ Jamie said thoughtfully. His gaze held Janet’s firmly. ‘Maybe we could see it as more of an opportunity. What happened between us would have to be considered ancient history by now. Maybe it’s time to forgive and forget.’ Jamie’s smile was conciliatory.
‘Even ancient history can leave a lasting impact on some people,’ Janet said coolly. She could feel her heart pounding. Another opportunity with Jamie McFadden was the last thing she needed. The last thing she could possibly want. ‘It’s only for six weeks,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m sure we can cope.’
‘But do you want to?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Janet fixed Jamie with a determined stare. ‘I have an immense loyalty to this place and to these people. This is my life now, Jamie, and it’s all I have. I’m not going to let some incident from my past create or add to the difficulties we’re already experiencing.’ Janet wished she could stand up to emphasise her determination, but even at her height of five feet seven she would still have to look a long way up to maintain eye contact with James McFadden. ‘St David’s is in desperate need of a locum GP. They’re very difficult to come by at present and we’ve already lost one. I imagine the agency would tell us we’re very lucky to get you.’
The second knock on the door was more urgent than Jamie’s had been. Sandy looked agitated as she poked her head into the room without waiting for a response.
‘Mrs Neville has just jammed her finger in her car door.’ Sandy sounded alarmingly close to tears again. ‘There’s blood all over the place!’
Janet was on her feet instantly. She grabbed a dressings pack from the cupboard above her head without pausing. She brushed past Jamie McFadden. Mrs Neville was standing beside the reception counter. Her eyes were shut tightly and she was moaning loudly. Her uninjured hand gripped the wrist of the other. A mangled fingertip was bleeding freely onto the counter. Janet covered it with a large gauze pad and put her arm around the groaning woman supportively.
‘Come with me, Mrs Neville. Let’s get you sitting down and see what the damage really is.’
Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Jamie still in the treatment room. He had donned surgical gloves, poured some Betadine into a kidney bowl and opened another pack of dressings.
‘Mrs Neville, is it?’ he queried. His smile was professional. Reassuring. ‘I’m Dr McFadden. Sit down here and show me what you’ve done to that poor finger.’ His glance at Janet a minute later was equally professional. ‘Draw up some lignocaine, will you, please, Janet? I think we’ll put a nerve block in while we sort this out.’ He turned back to his patient. ‘It’s pretty painful, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes, Doctor,’ Mrs Neville gasped. ‘I can’t bear to look. Have I … have I cut my finger off?’
‘Och, nothing like that,’ Jamie assured her. ‘You’ve squashed the top a bit, that’s all. We might need to remove the nail and put a stitch or two in the back. Nothing we can’t cope with.’ He looked across at Janet as she held an ampoule upside down, sucking the contents out with a needle and syringe. ‘Is it, Janet?’
‘No, Dr McFadden.’ Janet’s tone was calm as she handed him the dose of local anaesthetic. She held out the empty ampoule as well so he could confirm the medication. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with.’
Mrs Neville looked reassured, happily oblivious to the deeper meaning of the exchange. By the time her finger was cleaned up, stitched and dressed, the middle aged patient was clearly smitten with St David’s latest staff member.
‘We’re becoming a regular United Nations here,’ she told him proudly. ‘The last locum was an Indian lady and now we have you. I do love your accent.’
‘You should be used to a bit of a burr.’ Jamie sounded surprised. ‘I understand Janet’s been here for years.’
‘Oh, but that’s different. And your accent is so much stronger!’
Janet dropped the needles and the scalpel Jamie had used to tidy the edges of the wound into the sharps disposal container. Mrs Neville had been enamoured of Oliver ever since she’d started coming to St David’s. Now her allegiance was clearly being transferred without difficulty. She threw a sidelong glance at the object of Mrs Neville’s admiration in time to catch the cheeky, small-boy grin.
Janet closed her eyes for a split second against a wave of despair. That grin! She saw it a dozen times a day on the faces of her sons. She had always loved it and the two little ratbags knew it was the second best way to get around their mother. The best way, of course, were the cuddles and declarations of love. Worked a treat almost every time—especially if accompanied by that cheeky grin. Did she love the facial expression because she loved her sons so much? Or was it because it had subconsciously linked them to the first great love of her life?
Could she cope? How many more links might become obvious over the next six weeks? How many more reminders could she take about how she had once felt about this man? It was hard enough, listening to his voice. Mrs Neville was right. His accent was much stronger than her own. And could she keep the boys a secret? Janet shuddered at even the thought of that problem and turned back into Jamie’s conversation. He was explaining the difference to their patient as he finished easing the finger stall over the dressing.
‘I was born and raised in Glasgow,’ he told Mrs Neville. ‘Janet lived in Edinburgh for her formative years. That’s a much more civilised place.’ Jamie’s tone suggested that civilisation was not necessarily an attribute. ‘Besides, Janet’s been away from her homeland for years. I only arrived last week.’
‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ Mrs Neville asked coyly. ‘Permanently, that is?’
Jamie laughed, a rich sound that caused Janet’s stomach to fold itself into an even tighter knot. ‘I’m only planning on a working holiday, Mrs Neville. I doubt that permanence is something I’ll even consider.’
Huh! Janet flashed him a meaningful glance. No. Permanence wasn’t something that would be high on Jamie McFadden’s agenda. Love them and leave them. Jobs, countries … women. Jamie had caught the glance. His dark brown eyes narrowed slightly as he acknowledged the disparaging line of Janet’s thoughts. She saw a spark of anger then. Whatever challenge he had also interpreted from her glance was going to be risen to.
‘You had an appointment with Dr Bennett, didn’t you, Mrs Neville?’ Jamie’s attention returned swiftly to his patient. ‘I’m afraid she’s tied up at the hospital for a while. Perhaps it’s something I could help you with?’
Mrs Neville blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no! It was nothing urgent, Dr McFadden. I’ll make another appointment for later in the week.’
Janet pressed her lips together firmly as she emptied the bowl of soiled dressings and swabs into the rubbish container. Mrs Neville had been having increasing trouble with a severe case of haemorrhoids. It had been Janet who’d suggested she see their female GP when she’d heard that the
