others were watching. He sighed as he headed up the path and got into his car. He may as well accept that Becky wasn’t interested in him and stop worrying about it.
The next week flew past. Although Becky had agreed to work only mornings while Brenda was still there, she found herself doing extra hours most days. A couple of practices in the area had closed in the past few years and their patients had transferred to Bride’s Bay’s list. It meant that everyone was under a lot of pressure but Becky was glad, even if it did mean her spending less time than she would have liked with Millie. At least while she was working, she wasn’t thinking about Ewan, and that had to be a blessing.
She had found it increasingly difficult to put him out of her mind since Sunday morning. Although she knew it was stupid, she couldn’t help wishing that she hadn’t lied to him about Steve’s reasons for living in the city. She felt guilty about what she’d done and confused as to why she’d felt it necessary. After all, what difference would it make to Ewan if he found out that her marriage had been less than perfect?
By the time Friday arrived, Becky was worn out from worrying about it. When Mrs Rose arrived to have her dressing changed, she had to make a determined effort to appear upbeat.
‘Come in, Mrs Rose,’ she said, ushering the old lady over to a chair. ‘How are you today?’
‘Fine, thank you, dear.’ Edith Rose winced as she sank down onto the seat and Becky frowned.
‘Is your leg troubling you?’
‘No, no, it’s fine. I just get the odd twinge in my hip from time to time.’ Mrs Rose adjusted her position and smiled. ‘There. That’s better.’
‘Good.’ Becky went to fetch the tray she’d prepared, making a mental note to ask her father to take a look at Mrs Rose. Although the old lady had made light of it, she suspected that her hip was causing her some discomfort. She carried the tray over to the desk and then donned a pair of gloves. ‘I’ll just remove the old dressing and see how the cut is doing. It may be a little uncomfortable, I’m afraid.’
‘You just do what you have to, my dear,’ Mrs Rose told her, stoically.
Becky peeled away the dressing, pleased to see that there was no sign of infection. Although the cut was deep, it was already starting to heal. ‘That looks fine. Using a non-adherent dressing means that the new tissue that’s formed hasn’t been disturbed.’
‘That nice young doctor I saw at the hospital insisted the nurse should use one of those special dressings,’ Mrs Rose told her. ‘She was going to put a gauze pad on my leg but he told her to fetch something else.’
‘He was quite right,’ Becky agreed, feeling a small rush of pleasure run through her. Although she knew it was silly, it was good to hear Ewan receiving praise. ‘The last thing we want is delicate new tissue being disturbed because the wrong type of dressing has been used.’
‘That’s what he said.’ The old lady laughed. ‘You two would get on very well, my dear. You obviously have a lot in common!’
Becky smiled although she didn’t say anything. It was unsettling to realise that she and Ewan held such similar views. She gently cleaned the area around the cut and then placed a fresh dressing over it.
‘There, that’s all done. If it carries on healing as well as it’s been doing then it won’t be long before you don’t need any more dressings.’ She straightened Mrs Rose’s skirt then helped her to her feet, frowning when she heard the old lady suck in her breath. ‘Is your hip bothering you again?’
‘Just another twinge,’ Mrs Rose assured her. However, Becky could tell that she was making light of how painful it really was.
‘Would you like me to ask one of the doctors to take a look at it, seeing as you’re here?’ she suggested.
Mrs Rose shook her head. ‘Oh, no, dear. There’s no need. It’s just a twinge, as I said.’ The old lady smiled brightly. ‘It’s all part and parcel of getting old, I’m afraid.’
Becky laughed dutifully although she couldn’t help feeling concerned as she saw Mrs Rose out. She found herself wondering if Mrs Rose’s reluctance to have her hip examined had something to do with what Ewan had told her. If the old lady was worried that her son would have her admitted to a nursing home if he could prove she couldn’t manage on her own, then she would be wary of admitting that she had a problem.
Becky decided that she would mention her concerns to the rest of the team. They held a weekly team meeting each Monday when everyone had the chance to talk over any problems that had arisen. She made a note to bring it up the following Monday, thinking idly that it would have been even better if she could have discussed it with Ewan. He always had such a clear view of any problems and she was sure that he would have come up with a solution.
She sighed. That was the fourth time she’d thought about Ewan in under half an hour. He seemed to be taking over her life and it had to stop. Ewan was history; whatever might have been between them was over and done with. If she said it often enough, hopefully her brain would get the message.
Although Ewan was used to hard work, he had to admit that he had never worked as hard as he did at Pinscombe General. The fact that they were carrying several vacancies meant there was extra pressure on the staff. He arrived early and left late, usually so exhausted that he could barely summon the energy to make himself a drink let alone a meal when he got home.
As for his social life, it was non-existent. Although several of the nurses had made it clear that they would welcome his attentions, he was far too busy to think about dating, or that’s what he told himself. It was easier than admitting that he wasn’t interested in them now that he’d met Becky again.
Saturday rolled around and he was working the two-to-ten shift. The other registrar had called in sick on Friday so Ewan made a point of arriving early. He was glad that he had when he saw the queue in Reception.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked, looping his stethoscope around his neck. ‘Has war been declared in Devon or something?’
‘It seems like it.’ Cathy Morrison, the senior sister, rolled her eyes. ‘It’s been non-stop ever since I got here at six this morning.’ She plonked a case file on the counter. ‘Can you take a look at this one first? She’s been here almost three hours now and you know what’ll happen if the bean-counters flag up that we’ve kept a patient waiting for that length of time.’
‘We’ll be marched outside and shot at dawn?’ Ewan suggested, drolly.
‘Worse. We’ll be sent on a time management course!’
‘Fate worse than death,’ Ewan concurred, grinning. He headed to the cubicles and didn’t leave them again for the next six hours. Cuts, bruises, fractures, burns: he dealt with the lot. By the time he was able to snatch a break, he had lost track of the cases he’d seen. As he made his way to the canteen, he found himself thinking that it was a good job he hadn’t accepted Tom’s invitation to the christening. After an evening like this, all he wanted to do tomorrow was sleep!
His heart gave an unruly little hiccup as he found himself tagging on a codicil. All he wanted to do was sleep … with Becky.
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