because of the job itself?’
‘No. I loved working as a GP, but my husband got sick and needed someone to look after him.’
‘Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that. I hope he’s better now?’
She looked down at the ground for a brief moment, her smile faltering, before she met his gaze again. ‘He died. Of pancreatic cancer.’
He was shocked. And a little embarrassed at having pushed her to explain. ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘You weren’t to know.’
‘I lost my wife when Rosie was born. It’s difficult being a single parent, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry, too. It can be, if you’re truly on your own. That’s why it’s good to have family around.’
‘Is that why you moved to Gilloch?’
‘Yes, I was born here. Lived here in Gilloch until about the age of three or four, when my parents moved to Cornwall. My father was looking for better job prospects—my mother for better weather!’
She laughed at the personal memory and he loved the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of her parents.
‘It was in Cornwall that I met my husband. He was a doctor, too. When he died I felt incredibly alone. My parents were gone by then, and I just felt a yearning to be with family. It’s important, that connection. More than any other. We’d always kept in touch with my grandmother, speaking online and on the phone, and I wanted Grace to know her properly instead of just being a voice...an image. So I decided to move back here so we could look after each other.’
‘Mhairi?’
She nodded.
Cameron put down her paperwork. ‘Tell me what you think you can bring to this post.’
But at that moment there was another knock on the door and Janet was there, carefully balancing a tray with cups, saucers, a teapot and a small plate of biscuits.
‘Thank you, Janet.’ He dismissed her and waited for her to leave the room before turning his attention back to Bethan.
‘I’m punctual, committed, hard-working. I’m good with patients and I know how to build a rapport with them. I believe myself to be very efficient, and I have a good talent for hearing what people aren’t saying.’
Is that right?
‘What would you say are your weaknesses?’
She shifted in her seat. ‘I get attached. I care too much, too quickly, and don’t always control my emotions.’
He frowned. That was a red flag. He didn’t need anyone getting attached to him! Even if it was just as a friend or a trusted colleague. He didn’t need anyone to be hurt by his passing. It was going to be bad enough for Rosie. He needed strong people around to be there for her, not crying a river for their own pain.
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s the human element. I find it hard to create a professional distance sometimes. Especially with people that I feel I know well. I care for them. Feel for them. When they’re hurting, so am I.’
She leaned forward, planted her elbows on his desk.
‘What I mean is, if I’ve been looking after someone and then I have to deliver a shocking diagnosis that’s going to affect their lives then I’m going to feel that pain with them. It will make me cry. Not whilst I’m with them,’ she clarified. ‘I’m not that unprofessional. But sometimes it can get a little bit too much.’
She looked at him with concern, as if she were worried she’d said too much.
‘Actually, I’m not sure if that is a weakness.’ She smiled. ‘I think it just makes me human, and I think people like having doctors who aren’t made of steel.’
She jutted out her chin, but didn’t meet his gaze.
He suspected she thought she’d blown it.
She hadn’t. Not at all. But she didn’t know she was the only applicant, and she didn’t know just how much he needed her. He had to employ her. No matter what. His time was running out. He would just keep his distance. As much as he could.
‘I need someone who can take over my role completely. I’m leaving the practice for a year’s sabbatical, to spend time with my wee girl, but obviously there will be a short transition period during which I will sit in with the new doctor and observe until they feel able to fly solo. How would you feel about that? Me looking over your shoulder?’
She nodded, smiling. ‘That sounds fine.’ Then she frowned. ‘You’re leaving? Completely?’
Cameron smiled. ‘Completely. For a year,’ he lied.
‘Oh.’
Was she using that special skill of hers right now? Trying to work out what it was that he wasn’t saying? Perhaps she was. He watched her observing him, looking for clues, trying to work out why a fully trained doctor would just leave like this, but he knew she wouldn’t find the answer.
There were no outward signs of his death sentence. Just paleness and bags under his eyes, which lots of people had, and a slowly fading headache that she couldn’t see. No one else knew either. Except family. He’d had to tell them. But everyone else just thought he’d been sick for a while and was now over it.
Cameron leaned forward and poured them both a cup of tea, standing up to pass her a cup and saucer.
‘Thank you.’
‘This practice has always worked well. There’s a good team here. How would you make sure you’d fit in?’
She sipped from the teacup. ‘I’m a local girl who’s come home. I’m sure there will be lots of questions, which I’ll do my best to answer honestly. You can’t be a GP without having good people skills.’
He smiled. Good. ‘Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me?’
Surely there had to be. All good interviewees were taught to ask something at this stage. To sound interested in the post, if nothing else.
Bethan stirred her drink and he noticed what fine hands she had. Lithe fingers, short nails with clear polish. He was struck by a sense of admiration for this woman. Her husband had died and she was a widow. A single parent like himself.
‘There is one.’
‘Aye?’ He sipped his own tea, wincing at the heat of it upon his tongue.
‘I’d like to know if I’d have full autonomy from day one? I know you’d be observing, but how long would you observe me for?’
He smiled. He liked this woman. She had spirit. And enthusiasm. And that mattered to him most of all. He was going to be leaving his patients in the care of someone else. Patients he had looked after for a good few years.
