I told you to make it Matt?’ He gave a small shake of his head. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony around here, Catherine, as you’ll soon discover—’
He broke off when the telephone rang. Catherine could see that his attention had been distracted but she simply couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. She steeled herself as she said his name for the first time yet it seemed to flow off her tongue with surprising ease.
‘Matt, I’m afraid I—’
‘Matthew! It’s for you, darling.’
Mrs Fielding’s voice carried clearly along the corridor and Matt sighed as he headed for the door. ‘No rest for the wicked. Sorry, Catherine. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
He disappeared before she could say anything and she heard him hurrying along the passage. She looked round uncertainly, sighing when she saw the half-eaten meal on the table. Poor Matthew seemed doomed to go hungry.
She cut off that thought because it really wasn’t relevant. Whether or not Matthew Fielding ate wasn’t her concern. She went to the door but the corridor was empty. She could hear Matthew’s voice coming from the surgery and decided to head that way. It would be easier to tell him that she wasn’t going to take the job in the surgery rather than in his kitchen because it would help to put things back on a professional footing. All this chatting over omelettes and coffee didn’t do anyone any good!
‘Glenda? Hi, it’s Matt. Sorry to bother you but I’ve just had David Marshall’s carer on the phone. How was he when you saw him last week?’
Catherine paused when she realised that Matthew must have finished his incoming call and was now making one of his own. She didn’t like to interrupt him when it had something to do with a patient. She waited for him to finish, mentally rehearsing what she would say. He was bound to want to know why she didn’t want the job but she would just stick to her guns and refuse to discuss her reasons…
‘Catherine Lewis…that’s right, the one I told you about who had all those wonderful references.’
Catherine hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help listening when she heard her name mentioned. She smiled when she heard the remark about her references. She was a good doctor and there was no disputing that.
‘How would I sum her up? Well, professionally there’s no doubt that she is absolutely first rate and will be able to handle this job without any trouble at all. As for personally…’ He paused and his tone was reflective when he continued. ‘I suppose the word that springs to mind is vulnerable. Catherine Lewis strikes me as a very vulnerable woman indeed.’
Catherine didn’t hear what else he said. She had stopped listening because her mind had seized on that word and wouldn’t move forward or back. Vulnerable. Was that how Matthew Fielding saw her? Was it true? An hour ago she would have laughed off the suggestion but she couldn’t laugh it off now.
‘Oh, hi. I’m afraid I have to go out on a call. One of our long-term sick patients has taken a turn for the worse. We use an on-call service after hours normally but this case is a bit different. Motor neurone disease is one of those illnesses you pray someone will find a cure for.’
Matthew was shrugging on his jacket as he came out of the office. He called along the corridor to tell his mother that he was going out then headed towards the front door, obviously expecting Catherine to follow him.
She took a deep breath but her legs felt more than a little shaky as she trailed after him, her mind even more so. It was hard to behave naturally as she followed him out to the car park.
Fortunately, Matthew didn’t appear to notice her abstraction as he stopped beside a battered-looking saloon and unlocked the door. ‘Right, I’ll expect you on the first of November, then. You said that you’d be free to start then, I believe. I’ll pop all the paperwork in the post for you to sign.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t get much chance to talk. If you have any questions then just give me a call—after surgery is usually best. Anyway, thanks for coming tonight, Catherine. I’m looking forward to us working together.’
He got into the car and started the engine. Catherine watched in silence as he drove away. She knew she should have told him that she wouldn’t be taking the job but she’d felt incapable of doing that or anything else.
She got into her car then sat staring through the windscreen instead of making any attempt to start the engine. Vulnerable. It was such an insignificant word to have scared her the way it had. It was as though everything she had worked so hard to achieve meant nothing all of a sudden. Matthew Fielding saw her not as the capable, competent woman she had striven so hard to be but as vulnerable. She didn’t want to be like that. She wouldn’t accept that she was!
Catherine started the engine and drove out of the surgery. She would prove to him, but, more importantly, she would prove to herself, that he was wrong.
VULNERABLE.
On the surface, it wasn’t a word that should have applied to the woman seated in front of Catherine’s desk. However, it had been on her mind so much in the past weeks that she wasn’t surprised when it occurred to her now.
It was the Wednesday of her first week at Brookdale Surgery and she was halfway through morning surgery. Maybe it had been silly to have let Matthew Fielding’s comment spur her into taking the job but so far it seemed to be working out extremely well. She had slotted into the new post with surprisingly little trouble. Of course, the fact that the staff at the surgery had been so welcoming had helped enormously. Everyone, from Ann Talbot, their practice nurse, to the two receptionists, Margaret Price and Sharon Goody, had gone out of their way to help her settle in.
As for Matthew, well, he had been nothing less than professional in his dealings with her these past few days. He had been friendly but circumspect, helpful but not overly familiar in their exchanges to date. There certainly hadn’t been any more offers to share coffee and omelettes, she’d been pleased to note! Catherine was determined their relationship would continue like that. She’d come to Brookdale Surgery to do a job and nothing else.
‘So, apart from these dizzy spells, have you experienced any other symptoms, Mrs Hoskins?’
Catherine briskly returned her attention to her patient. Lauren Hoskins was in her thirties, an attractive, well-dressed woman who worked in advertising. The address on Lauren’s records was in a road which had become highly sought-after in the past few years. A lot of wealthy couples had chosen to purchase the large Edwardian properties and refurbish them. However, despite such material advantages, Lauren exuded a strange aura of vulnerability. Catherine very much wanted to get to the root of her problems but so far had met with little success.
‘Not really.’ Lauren smiled wanly. ‘Should I have had other symptoms, Dr Lewis?’
‘Not at all,’ Catherine replied evenly. ‘As I’m not sure yet what is wrong with you, it certainly isn’t possible to say how you should or shouldn’t feel.’
She turned to the computer and checked through the woman’s medical history again. Lauren Hoskins had visited the surgery no less than five times in the past three months, each time complaining of dizziness. She had seen Glenda Williams each time and Catherine couldn’t fault the other doctor’s thoroughness as she ran through
