was a peculiar little flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him later.
She padded over to the open window and looked out on a brilliant day, catching her breath at the view. The sun was shining on the distant vista of a blue sea she could see over the fields, and just down by the side of the cottage there was a stream that tumbled and sparkled its way under a little bridge and towards a copse. Through the open window drifted the sweet fresh smells of early spring and the sound of the chattering water.
‘A far cry from London,’ she murmured, peering down to see if Atholl’s car had gone from the front of the cottage. There was no sign of it, so he must have gone to work.
There was a scrabbling noise at the door and Shona trotted in, coming over to nuzzle Terry and then lie on her side in a patch of warm sunlight. Terry had a quick wash and threw on some clothes from her case, which Atholl had placed on the small landing. She squinted into the tiny mirror in the darkest corner of the little room as she flicked a brush through her hair. Her image looked back at her—large eyes framed by wayward short curly fair hair. Funny how a slight change in hair colour and cut could make a face look quite different, she thought. She turned to the dog looking up at her with interest.
‘Right, Shona, let’s see what’s for breakfast, shall we?’
The kitchen was a tiny room with just enough space for a sink, fridge and oven. On the working top was a note. ‘If you feel rested enough to come to the surgery, please take my uncle’s car parked in the layby just down the road. Keys in drawer.’
After a cup of black coffee and a fruitless hunt for anything more sustaining than a stale piece of bread, Terry put on a jacket and made her way to the car.
‘Bye, Shona,’ she called to the dog, who was watching her through the window. ‘If I don’t find my way I may be back soon!’
In fact, it was an easy ten-minute drive to The Sycamores. The worst part was parking the car in between a builder’s lorry and Atholl’s Land Rover in the drive. The house did indeed look rundown, Terry thought, taking a more detailed look at the paintwork on the windows, the battered front door and the small neglected border covered with weeds.
‘I could easily make that look better when the flat’s ready,’ she murmured to herself as she went into the hall.
The waiting room was crowded and there was no one at Reception.
‘The doctor’s running late—you’ll have to wait a wee while,’ said an elderly man helpfully, by the door.
‘I’m here to work, actually.’ Terry smiled, making her way through the room. A battery of eyes watched her go behind the reception counter while she waited for Isobel to materialise. She looked at the disparate crowd of people who gazed curiously back at her. Hopefully soon she would get to know them, and start to feel part of another community.
‘Ah, we wondered when you’d make an appearance!’ said Isobel, coming into the room with an armful of post.
Terry was getting used to Isobel’s forthright manner and pulled a rueful face. ‘Sorry I’m late. I had the best sleep I’ve had in ages, though. Now I’m ready, willing and able…’
Isobel nodded. ‘Aye, well, you had reason to be tired, didn’t you? Atholl told me about the accident you were involved in yesterday—quite a baptism of fire in your new home!’ She pursed her lips. ‘And talking of home, did you find anything for breakfast in that fridge of his?’
‘Not a lot.’ Terry laughed. ‘But I’m fine. Fortunately there was plenty of coffee.’
Isobel made a tutting sound. ‘I’ll get you something soon. No one can work on an empty stomach—any doctor should know that. Now, Atholl says would you use the room at the end of the passage—he’ll be through directly to show you how the programme on the computer works and then I’ll send your first patient through.’
Terry looked around her new surgery. It was quite a large room with an examining couch at one side, a washbasin and two enormous cupboards on the other, and a window with a crooked blind over it at the end. A bookcase filled with weighty medical tomes and magazines was squeezed near the door. Probably it was normally Euan’s room, she surmised. There were a few yellowing photographs on the wall of groups of students, and surely one of Euan himself, a stern white-haired gentleman glaring into the room, looking very like Atholl might do in years to come. She opened a drawer in the desk and smiled when she saw the contents—a lipstick and eyeliner wasn’t anything Uncle Euan would have use for. The last locum must have been a woman!
There was a tap at the door and Atholl entered. He looked much smarter than yesterday in a dark suit and tie, his white shirt emphasising his tanned face. From a purely objective point of view, Terry told herself, he certainly was one eye-catching guy.
Atholl’s eyes flicked over her, completed a quick survey of her navy trouser suit and the pink silk shirt she was wearing under the jacket. She looked delectable, he thought wryly. He’d had time to reflect in the last twelve hours on what a fool he’d been yesterday, rushing off rudely like a madman just because he was frightened of a rerun of the situation he’d had with Zara. It wasn’t Terry’s fault that she was so damned attractive and the poor girl hadn’t had a very welcoming reception. If they were going to work well together it was imperative that he maintain a cordial working relationship with her. From now on he’d try and behave sensibly—but keep his distance.
‘You slept all right, then?’ he asked. ‘You’d gone to bed by the time I got back.’
He sounded more relaxed than he had the day before when he’d roared off after depositing her at the cottage, Terry thought with relief.
‘Yes, I slept like a log. I’m sorry I was so late. I’d no idea it was halfway through the morning when I woke up.’
He shook his head dismissively. ‘It doesn’t matter—you were tired.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘I’m sorry about the lack of food. Isobel’s just been giving me a hard time about that. I’d no time to shop as I was up at the crack of dawn meeting some man from the local health authority who wants us to provide a room for some alternative medicine clinic.’
Terry gathered from his tone that he was totally against that request. She smiled. ‘You can buy me a sandwich at lunchtime if you like.’
‘I’ll do better than that. I’ve got to take some gear over to the outward bound place before lunch. If you come with me you can meet Pete, his wife and the boys. I’ll bring some food and we’ll have it on the way back. The quicker you get to know the area the better.’
‘Sounds great.’
He bent forward to switch on the computer and said, ‘Before I show you the ropes as far as the software we use is concerned, there’s a reporter here to speak to you.’
Terry looked surprised. ‘Whatever for? What can I have to say to him?’
Atholl smiled. ‘It’s about your sterling work yesterday in the car accident. It’ll make good copy. “New young doctor on Scuola saves baby in car accident.”’
‘It certainly wasn’t just me involved—you were as well. What paper is this?’
‘The Scuola Recorder—it’s just a weekly newssheet about local happenings.’
‘I…I don’t know if I really
