Lewis was so determined to do all he could for his daughter, she thought, then sighed in exasperation. Why did every single thought lead back to Lewis?
Lewis was late for the meeting, mainly because he still hadn’t got used to judging the length of time he could spend with each patient. Six minutes were allotted for each consultation and it was far too little in his opinion. Harry and Amy were already sitting at the staffroom table with an open tin of biscuits in front of them when he arrived. Helen was pouring coffee and she glanced round when he appeared.
‘Black or white?’
‘Black, please, with plenty of sugar.’
‘Sounds like you had a hard morning,’ Amy said, grinning as he sat down. A pretty girl in her twenties, she was engaged to a policeman and in the throes of planning a summer wedding.
‘I haven’t adjusted to the conveyor-belt system you operate here so I find it difficult to keep up.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Switching my brain from what analgesic to prescribe for a teething toddler to how to treat Mr Parsons’s gout all in the space of a couple of minutes takes some doing!’
‘It must be your age,’ Amy retorted. ‘That’s why you can’t keep up.’
‘Cheeky monkey!’ Lewis laughed out loud. It was refreshing to be treated as just another member of the team after the awe he’d inspired in his previous post. ‘I’ll remind you of that in a few years’ time when you’re having problems keeping up the pace.’
‘Ah, but I’ll still be younger than you so I’ll still fare better,’ Amy countered.
‘Touché!’ He shook his head in defeat because he obviously wasn’t going to win this argument. He glanced round when Helen brought over the coffee, feeling his heart leap when her hand accidentally brushed against his as she placed it in front of him.
‘Thanks.’ Picking up the mug, he took a gulp of the coffee in the hope that it would steady him, but his hand was still tingling from the contact and it worried him that he should be so aware of her. He’d had his share of relationships and didn’t intend to have any more until Kristy was all grown up and no longer needed him. And by that time he’d be too old to bother!
‘Is Mr Parsons’s gout getting worse?’
Helen sat down opposite him and he hastily returned his thoughts to the reason for the meeting. He was supposed to be discussing his patients’ problems, not thinking about his own.
‘It’s spread to his ankle now and he’s in a lot of pain. The joint is very red and swollen, and obviously tender. Unfortunately, he forgot to renew his prescription after the last bout so he didn’t have any medication to stave it off. I gave him an injection of corticosteroids and another script. I also took some blood to check his levels of uric acid. He might need a new drug and diet regime to reduce the levels of uric acid in his body and help his kidneys excrete it more quickly. I noticed from his file that it’s two years since his last review so he must be due for one.’
‘He is. Let me know when the test results come back and we can discuss it then.’ She put her mug down and reached for the biscuit tin at the same moment as he went to get it. Once again their hands touched and he jerked his back when he felt the current of electricity that arced between them.
‘Of course, if you’re interested,’ he replied thickly, struggling to get a grip on himself.
‘Tom Parsons is one of our oldest patients. He was the first person to sign on when the practice opened so naturally I’m interested,’ Helen replied neutrally, so neutrally, in fact, that he couldn’t help wondering if she’d felt the electricity, too.
He shot her a wary glance but it was impossible to tell what she was thinking, and maybe it was better that he couldn’t. There was no room in his life for Helen or any other woman when he had Kristy to consider. The thought steadied him and he looked calmly at her. ‘I can’t imagine having patients for that length of time. Most of the people I treated at St Leona’s I saw just a couple of times—once before their surgery and once after it was over.’
‘It’s totally different here,’ Harry put in, helping himself to a biscuit. ‘Most of the folk we see have been on our books for years. Talk about from the cradle to the grave isn’t in it!’
Lewis smiled at the wry note in the younger man’s voice. ‘Don’t you approve?’
‘Oh, it’s great if you like that sort of thing.’ Harry grimaced. ‘It’s just not for me. I want a bit of excitement in my life before I settle for the old pipe and slippers routine. To be honest, I can’t imagine why you decided to swop an interesting job in London for working here…no offence intended, Helen,’ he added as an obvious afterthought.
‘And none taken,’ she replied smoothly. ‘I know this is just a stopgap for you, Harry, before you move on to bigger and better things.’
‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ the younger man said uncomfortably. ‘I enjoy working here but I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my days doing the same job. The Beeches is great the way it looks after all its patients so wonderfully, but it’s a bit of a throwback to another era. Very few general practices offer the kind of all-encompassing service we provide.’
‘Maybe they don’t but The Beeches was founded on the principle of commitment and caring, and that’s something I’m proud of and intend to continue,’ Helen said firmly. She turned and Lewis stiffened when he saw the challenge in her eyes. ‘How do you feel, Lewis? Do you think we’re out of date in the way we do things here?’
‘I think you could cut out a lot of the unnecessary work,’ he said carefully, not wanting to offend her.
‘Really? Would you care to elaborate?’
She stared back at him and he sighed when he saw the glint in her beautiful eyes. He really and truly didn’t want to start an argument but, now that she’d asked for his opinion, he felt duty bound to give it.
‘A lot of patients we see don’t actually need to be seen by a doctor. They could visit the local pharmacy and buy something over the counter for their cough or their cold. If we could be more selective when making appointments then we could spend extra time on the people who really do need our help.’
‘And how do you propose we sort out who does and who doesn’t need an appointment?’ she shot back.
He shrugged. ‘Most general practices use their reception staff to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak.’
‘I’m sure they do. However, the reception staff aren’t medically qualified so how can they assess if a patient really needs to see one of us? If we ask them to make decisions like that, there is the risk of someone who is really sick not getting an appointment.’
‘That’s a valid point. However, the reception staff could be trained to ask a few simple questions when people phone for an appointment,’ he pointed out, although he suspected there was little hope of persuading her to adopt a different policy. However, it seemed wrong to him that their lists should be cluttered up with people who really didn’t need to see a doctor when it put added pressure on everyone.
Helen, for instance, could spare herself a lot of work if she would make a few simple changes to the way the practice was run. In the week he’d been there, he’d discovered that she was the first to arrive each morning and the last
