Glenda and I decided to open the practice we realised that one of us would have to live over the shop so to speak. It was a question of economics. Property in the city is horrendously expensive, as you know, so there was no way that we could afford to buy or even lease suitable premises.’
‘I see. So you decided to combine the two and make your home here?’
‘That’s right. I was married by then and Ruth, my wife, was expecting our first child. The plan was that we would live here until the practice got on its feet and then we would move out of the city. However, after Ruth died it made more sense to continue living here. It means that I don’t have to waste time travelling to and from work and can be home with the children as soon as I finish.’ He put down his knife and went back to the fridge.
Catherine frowned as she tried to absorb what he had told her. She’d had no idea that Matthew Fielding was a widower although there was no reason why she should have known, of course. His domestic arrangements had little to do with her except where they overlapped into his work. She waited until he had found what he needed in the fridge, which turned out to be a bowl of large brown eggs this time, before she set about clarifying the situation.
‘And Glenda—who I assume is your partner in the practice—is quite happy with the arrangement?’
‘Oh, yes. And, yes, again, Glenda is indeed my partner. Sorry. I should have explained that at the beginning.’ He grinned at her. ‘Just because I know so much about you, it doesn’t mean that you know anything about me, or this practice for that matter. Feel free to fire away and ask me anything you want.’
Catherine smiled coolly but it was just a cover for the fact that she couldn’t think of a single question to ask him at that moment. Maybe it was because the interview wasn’t following the usual pattern which had thrown her off course, she reasoned. Whenever she had been interviewed in the past there had been all the usual questions about her educational achievements, her experience and future plans, but Matthew Fielding hadn’t touched on any of those points so far.
All of a sudden, she found herself willing him to get back on track. Silly though it sounded, but she knew it would be easier to cope if she was on familiar ground. However, it seemed that he had no intention of fitting in with her preconceived ideas about how to conduct an interview.
‘Don’t tell me you’re too shy to ask me any questions, Catherine.’ He looked expectantly at her and she was mortified to feel herself blushing.
Matthew shook his head, a rueful expression crossing his face. ‘Me and my big mouth, eh? Of course you’re shy. You only met me five minutes ago and you’re probably on your best behaviour and don’t want to appear pushy. It’s a long time since I went for an interview so you’ll have to forgive me.’
‘I…um…There’s nothing to forgive.’
The situation was rapidly deteriorating and Catherine knew that she had to do something before it got any worse. Matthew had made her sound like some delicate little soul who was afraid to say boo to the proverbial goose rather than a mature woman of thirty-two who was more than capable of running her own life! She sat up straighter, a touch of hauteur about the look she gave him.
‘I assure you that I am not shy, Dr Fielding. However, you were right to say that I know very little about this practice apart from what you told me over the phone.’
She took a deep breath, pleased to hear how composed she sounded. It gave her the confidence to continue although she would have preferred it if Matthew had sat down rather than carried on with what he was doing. Her tone sharpened as she watched him breaking eggs into a bowl.
‘So Glenda is Dr Williams, and there are just the two of you in practice here at Brookdale Surgery?’
‘That’s right.’ He picked up a fork and began beating the eggs. ‘We have been toying with the idea of finding a third partner as the practice is expanding so fast. You may have heard that this area is becoming one of the most sought-after in London.’
His tone was dry when he said that and Catherine frowned. It hadn’t sounded as though the idea pleased him although surely it should? A thriving population would bring many rewards to the practice. With more patients on his list, Matthew could apply for extra funding. He could even take on private patients if he wanted to because there were always people willing to pay if it meant they could avoid the NHS queues. It was all very puzzling but she decided that it might be best not to question him. It really wasn’t her business how he felt.
‘So I believe. However, the job you advertised wasn’t for a third partner,’ she stated coolly.
‘No. We’ve put that idea on hold for now. We have a far more pressing problem to deal with at the moment.’
He opened a cupboard and took out a heavy iron pan. Setting it on the Aga, he scooped a knob of butter from the dish and dropped it into the pan. As soon as it began to sizzle he added the egg mixture to the pan then turned to look at her.
‘Glenda has just found out that she’s pregnant. Naturally, she’s thrilled because she and her husband have been trying for a baby for ages. However, she’s had a couple of miscarriages in the past so her obstetrician has advised her that she should stop work immediately to give herself the best chance possible of carrying this baby to term.
‘I’ve arranged locum cover to tide us over for a few weeks but Glenda and I both agreed that we need something more permanent. And that’s where you come in, Catherine.’
Once again she felt that ripple under her skin when he called her by her first name. Catherine steadfastly ignored it, choosing instead to concentrate on the professional aspects of this strange interview, although it wasn’t easy in the circumstances. Holding an interview in a kitchen really wasn’t her idea of how things should be done.
Matthew had returned his attention to his cooking and was now lifting the omelette from the pan. He smiled at her, one sandy brow rising a fraction. ‘If you want half, just say the word.’
She shook her head, wishing he would concentrate on what they were there for. Silly though it sounded, the sooner this was over the happier she would feel. There was something a little too familiar about the thought of them sitting around the kitchen table sharing a meal. It troubled her. ‘Thank you but I’ve already eaten.’
It wasn’t a lie because she’d had a cup of coffee and a sandwich on her way there that night. There hadn’t been time for anything more substantial after she’d finished the early evening surgery which she had been rostered for that day. However, she couldn’t stop her stomach from suddenly rumbling when her nostrils caught the tantalising aroma which wafted across the kitchen.
Matthew laughed as he took a second plate off the shelf and deftly slid half the omelette onto it. ‘Stop being so polite! Here you go.’
Before Catherine could protest he had put the plate in front of her and gone to fetch another set of cutlery. He sat down, offering her the bowl of salad so that she had no option but to take some.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly, cutting a sliver off the omelette and popping it into her mouth. It tasted wonderful, she realised. Light and fluffy and a world better than her own miserable efforts.
‘You’re welcome.’ Matthew tucked into his meal with unselfconscious relish. He forked a mouthful of salad into his mouth and quickly chewed it. ‘Anyway, I’ve read your references and everything, and there’s no problem there. You’re more than qualified
