Helen hastily took her seat when she found herself subjected to an equally thorough scrutiny from a pair of piercing deep grey eyes. If she’d been weighing up Lewis Cole then he was returning the favour and she couldn’t help wondering what he thought of her.
Did he find her particular shade of red hair attractive, for instance? Someone had once described the colour as wet-fox red, and had meant it as a compliment, too, although the colour might not be to everyone’s taste. The warm greeny-blue colour of her eyes wasn’t too bad, though, and her features were even enough…
‘Thank you for seeing me, Dr Daniels. I know my application was a little late reaching you but I didn’t notice your advertisement when I first read the journal.’
Helen jumped when Lewis Cole addressed her in a voice that sounded like dark chocolate—all smooth and rich and velvety. She quickly returned her attention to what she was supposed to be doing, rather surprised that it had wavered in the first place. Taking his application out of her tray, she placed it in the centre of her blotter.
‘I did request that the advertisement should be placed inside a box so it would stand out, but my instructions weren’t carried out.’ She treated him to a cool smile, wanting to regain control of the interview and not allow him to hijack it, as she sensed he might do. ‘Fortunately, it didn’t cause too many problems at the end of the day. I received over fifty applications for the post, which is an excellent result.’
‘Indeed it is.’
He leant back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other as though he was totally at ease, and Helen felt another ripple run through her. In light of the experience she’d gained during the past week, it seemed incredible that a candidate should be this relaxed during an interview so what made Dr Cole so sure of himself?
She cast another glance at his application, facts leaping out at her from the expertly typed pages: aged forty; member of the Royal College of Surgeons as well as the Royal College of Physicians; senior consultant in gastrointestinal surgery at St Leona’s in London; retrained as a GP the previous year…
She looked up, wondering not for the first time why he’d decided to quit surgery. He’d stated in his application that it had been “for personal reasons”, although she had no idea what that meant. Maybe it was time she found out.
‘There is no point me asking you the usual questions I’ve asked a lot of the other candidates, Dr Cole.’ She glanced at his application and shrugged. ‘It’s obvious from this that you have a great deal of experience so what interests me most is why you decided to leave surgery and retrain at this stage in your career.’
‘As I explained in my application, my reasons were personal ones. Surgery is a very demanding discipline and it involves long and very irregular hours. At the present time I need a job that will provide me with a little more stability in my life.’
His grey eyes met hers calmly across the desk but she could see a nerve ticking in his jaw and realised with a jolt that his composure wasn’t as solid as she’d imagined it to be. For some reason the discovery made her want to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about, only there was no way she could do that.
Helen sat up straighter, annoyed with herself for ignoring her own sage advice about not letting herself become emotionally involved. Lewis Cole was just another candidate and she mustn’t allow herself to be swayed by the thought that she might be able to make his life a little easier by offering him the job.
‘So you believe that general practice is an easier option than surgery?’ she asked, allowing a hint of scepticism to creep into her voice.
‘Not easier, no. Just more…predictable.’
‘Predictable?’ Helen tipped back her head and laughed. It was the funniest answer she’d heard all week.
‘Obviously, I’ve said something to amuse you, Dr Daniels.’
The deep voice was colder now, stern, too, and her laughter immediately dried up. ‘I laughed more in astonishment than amusement, actually. General practice is never predictable, as you’ll find out for yourself if you secure a position as a GP.’
She allowed that to sink in, feeling a bit mean about slipping the doubt into the conversation, although maybe she was doing him a favour. After all, there was no guarantee that he would get this job, or any other for that matter.
The thought of his potential disappointment was upsetting for some reason and she hurried on. ‘You never know what’s going to happen from one minute to the next. Every time a patient walks through the door, you have to be prepared to deal with whatever they throw at you.’
She glanced at his application again then looked up, expecting to see some sign of emotion on his face, but his expression was completely blank now, as though he was deliberately hiding his feelings from her.
It was unsettling to wonder what was going on inside his head but Helen refused to dwell on it as she continued in the same no-nonsense tone. ‘It’s not all colds and heartburn in general practice. We have many patients at The Beeches who have very complex needs and we make sure they all receive the highest standard of care.’
‘It’s good to know that,’ he said quietly. ‘And I apologise if you thought I was being flippant. I’m certainly not dismissive of general practice work otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen to become a GP myself.’
There was no doubting his sincerity. Helen felt a little heat run through her veins as she realised that she probably deserved the rebuke. She experienced a sudden urge to apologise to him before it struck her that the whole reason for this interview was so she could ask him questions like that. She took a quick breath, determined not to let herself get sidetracked again.
‘The Beeches is a very busy practice. We have over three thousand patients on our books and we cover a large area of the surrounding countryside as well as the town. Whoever is appointed to this post will be a highly visible member of the local community.’
‘I don’t have a problem with that.’ He shrugged, his broad shoulders moving lightly under the expensively tailored jacket. ‘It will make a refreshing change after living in London all my adult life, in fact.’
‘Good,’ she said firmly, pleased to have got back onto familiar territory. So long as she stuck to the demands of the job, there wouldn’t be a problem with this interview. ‘Ian was very keen to ensure that The Beeches would continue to be at the heart of any local activities.’
‘Ian?’ he interjected.
‘My husband.’ Helen paused, wondering why she felt so uncomfortable about explaining her marital status. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had enough time to get over Ian’s death but she felt…odd about having to explain to Lewis Cole that she was a widow. However, there really was no way that she could avoid it.
‘Ian died two years ago of a heart attack. It was a shock because he’d always been extremely fit.’ She hurried on, knowing it would be easier to tell him all the details in one fell swoop. ‘I took over the practice after his death and I’ve tried to carry on running it in a way that Ian and his father would have approved of. Ian’s father founded The Beeches,’ she added. ‘Summerfield didn’t have a doctor’s surgery until then.’
‘It must be very difficult for you.’
Helen felt her heart squeeze in an extra beat when she glimpsed a hint of compassion in his eyes.
