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
