Neurosurgeon...and Mum! (12 page)

But then Perdy raced into the kitchen and hugged her. ‘I missed you, too, Amy.’

There was a huge lump in her throat and it was as much as she could do to say, ‘And I missed you.’ But she hugged the little girl back just as fiercely.

‘I’ve got the kettle on. You must be desperate for a cup of tea,’ she said as Tom walked in.

‘Thanks, I am,’ he said. And his eyes sent her another message, that he was desperate to hold her: and everything suddenly felt all right with Amy’s world.

Once they’d eaten, Amy had tidied the kitchen and Perdy had gone to bed after negotiating extra reading time, Tom drew Amy into the conservatory. His kiss was slow and sweet and promising, and then he just held her for a while, resting his face against her shoulder.

‘I missed you,’ he said softly.

‘I missed you, too,’ Amy admitted. ‘How was it?’

‘Not as bad as I expected. We had quite a long talk, and I made very sure that Perdy was asleep before we covered the difficult stuff.’ He swallowed hard. ‘It turns out they feel responsible for Eloise’s death, too. And they realise how many mistakes they made with her. Mistakes they’re not going to make with Perdy: I think they’re going to make more of an effort with her now. They’re going to ring her more, take an interest in what she does, the way my parents do.’

‘That’s good, Tom. You were right to build that bridge.’

‘I couldn’t have done it without you getting me to look at things differently.’ He kissed her again. ‘Thank you.’

‘Amy, will you come to the beach and make sandcastles with us?’ Perdy asked the following morning.

Amy knew it would be safer for her own peace of mind to refuse. But how could she resist that shy smile, those gorgeous eyes that were so like Tom’s? Knowing that she was setting herself up for heartbreak and not being able to stop herself, she said, ‘I’d love to.’

Between the three of them, they’d built an elaborate castle with a moat, and Perdy and Amy were just about to
go to fill their buckets with seawater for the moat when they heard a woman screaming, ‘Help! Somebody, please help!’

Tom looked over in the direction of the screams; they could see a woman cradling a child. ‘Looks like one for us,’ he said.

Amy nodded, and the three of them sprinted over.

‘We’re both doctors,’ Tom said. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Lizzie,’ the woman said, her voice shaky. ‘She cried out; then she started to cough, said she couldn’t breathe and she felt dizzy and sick.’

‘Looks like an allergic reaction to me. Is she allergic to anything?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘But she cried out. Maybe she was stung,’ Tom suggested. He pointed out a red patch on Lizzie’s arm. ‘That looks like a wasp sting.’

‘Has Lizzie ever been stung before?’ Amy asked the child’s mother.

‘Yes, but she didn’t react like this.’

‘You don’t, the first time,’ Amy said, rummaging in her handbag for her mobile phone. ‘Is anyone in the family allergic to wasp stings?’

‘No.’

‘Are there any other medical conditions we need to know about—asthma or anything?’ Tom asked.

‘No, she’s always been really healthy.’

Amy gave her mobile phone to Perdy. ‘Perdy, call the ambulance and tell them where we are and that we have a little girl with an anaphylactic reaction to a sting.’ She turned to Tom, about to ask him to check Lizzie’s airway and pulse, to discover that he was already doing it.

‘I’m going to give her some adrenalin,’Amy told Lizzie’s mother, ‘because that’s going to help stop the swelling and
make it easier for her to breathe. What happens with allergic reactions is your body produces lots of histamine. The histamine makes all your blood vessels go wider and leaky, so that makes all the tissues around them swell—that’s what’s happening to Lizzie right now. The adrenalin stops her body making more histamine, which will help open her airways; the adrenalin will make her blood vessels go narrower again so the swelling goes down.’

‘Airway clear,’ Tom said, ‘but her pulse is a bit low. Let’s help you sit up, sweetheart, so you can breathe more easily. Big breath in for me, that’s right, and then slowly let it out. One, two, three—that’s brilliant. Keep doing that for me.’ He turned to Amy. ‘Did you say you have adrenalin on you?’

‘I’m allergic to wasp stings myself so, yes, I have a pen and I carry it everywhere.’ She took the adrenalin pen from her bag and removed the cap; then she pressed the tip into the child’s thigh muscle until it popped and held it there for a ten seconds, counting under her breath. Then she removed the pen and massaged the area for another few seconds; all the time, Tom was talking to the child and her mother and soothing them. Finally, Amy put the cap back on the pen and shoved it back in her bag.

‘The ambulance is on its way,’ Perdy reported, handing the phone back to Amy. ‘I told them where we were and that I’d be waving a pink towel over my head as soon as I see them—I’ll go and get my towel.’

‘Thanks, Perdy, you’re a star.’Amy hugged her. ‘That’s a brilliant idea.’

‘Is she going to be all right?’ Lizzie’s mother asked.

‘Lots of people have severe allergic reactions to wasps,’ Amy reassured her. ‘Give the adrenalin a few minutes and she’ll start to brighten up a bit—but she’s going to need
to carry a pen like this with her in future, and make sure she has the instructions with her as well. Some people like to wear a bracelet to warn people they have a medical condition.’

‘And then it’s a matter of trying to avoid wasps,’ Tom said. ‘Make sure she doesn’t go near bins in summer, and don’t let her have sugary drinks outdoors—especially cans, because wasps have a habit of crawling into drink cans.’

‘Also make sure she doesn’t walk barefoot on grass, and avoid really bright clothes because they attract wasps,’ Amy added. ‘And always, always have the adrenalin pen with you.’

‘Is she always going to be allergic to wasps?’ the little girl’s mother asked.

‘Sometimes children grow out of it, and she can have desensitisation injections,’ Tom said.

‘Though it’s a long course, takes five years, and has to be done in a specialist centre in case of a severe reaction,’ Amy explained. ‘For now, they’ll check her over in hospital and finish the treatment there. Is there anyone we can call for you?’

‘My husband’s at work.’ She sighed. ‘We thought we’d just have a nice day on the beach, a picnic and what have you.’

‘You weren’t to know that Lizzie’s allergic to wasp stings,’ Amy said gently.

By the time the woman had called her husband, Perdy was waving the pink towel over her head. Tom briefed the paramedics on what they’d done; they listened to Lizzie’s chest and checked her blood pressure, then put her on an oxygen mask and swiftly inserted an IV line.

‘The mask’s to help her breathe more easily,’ Tom explained as Lizzie’s mother blanched.

‘And the line in her hand means that if they need to give her some medication, they can do it quickly,’ Amy added.

‘Thank you so much for helping. If it hadn’t been for you…’ She choked back a sob.

Amy patted her shoulder. ‘We were here, so don’t torment yourself with the might-have-beens.’

‘Is that little girl going to be all right?’ Perdy asked as the ambulance drove away.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Tom reassured her.

‘If she has a second reaction, they’ll have all the drugs they need to give her,’ Amy added. ‘And I need to remember to get another pen to replace this one.’

‘I can sort that out for you at the surgery,’ Tom said. ‘Was that your only one?’

‘No, I always carry two, just in case.’

‘You two were brilliant—Dad sorting the breathing and you doing the questions between you—like a real team,’ Perdy said.

Tom and Amy exchanged loaded glances.

Could they be a team? Amy wondered.

‘You could be the same sort of doctor as Dad, Amy,’ Perdy said, ‘if you didn’t want to go back to the hospital.’

Amy smiled. ‘Maybe. Though it’s not quite that simple; I’d have to retrain. It’d be quite a big step, if I decided to take it.’

‘Was Joseph your sort of doctor?’ Perdy asked curiously.

‘They didn’t really know much about nerves back in those days,’ Amy said, ‘and they definitely didn’t do the kind of operations that I do. They didn’t have X-rays and they weren’t even sure about the structures of the body. But I guess Joseph was at the cutting edge of medicine back then—I know he was definitely there at the first operation involving anaesthetic.’

‘So he was like you, then.’

‘Except he was married, with six children.’

‘Do you want to get married and have children?’ Perdy asked.

For once, Tom didn’t step in and distract her. Amy had no idea what Tom had said to Perdy—had he broached the subject over the weekend, asked Perdy how she would feel if he started dating someone? ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe. Now, about this moat…’

‘You’re quiet,’ Amy said later that evening, when Perdy was asleep and she was curled up on the sofa in the conservatory with Tom.

‘Thinking,’ he said. ‘About today. You were spot on when you treated that little girl.’

‘Because I know the drill.’

‘The point is,’ Tom said softly, ‘you went straight in there and you made all the right decisions. No hesitation, no worrying about things—you acted on instinct.’

She wriggled out of his arms and sat up, crossing her legs. ‘And your point is?’

‘Maybe it’s time you cut yourself a bit of slack,’ he said, ‘and started trusting yourself again. I know you said you weren’t sure if you wanted to go back to neurology, but from what I’ve seen of your work you’re an excellent doctor. You’re good with patients, you’re good with relatives, and it’d be a real waste if you gave it all up.’

‘Maybe.’ Amy shrugged.

‘Definitely,’ he corrected gently. ‘Trust your instincts, Amy. They won’t lead you wrong.’

Wouldn’t they?

‘I know it’s none of my business, but I—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘We’re friends,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Amy said, wondering what he’d been going to say at first. That he cared about her, maybe?

‘And friends look out for each other. Give advice.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Just where was he going with this?

‘I think you should take Marty up on the pain clinic. It’ll help our patients—and it’ll help you, too.’

‘Maybe,’ Amy said again.

He shifted so his arms were round her again. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped the boundaries. Yet again.’ He kissed her gently. ‘I just want you to believe in yourself again. Because I believe in you, Amy.’

And Amy had to bite back the tears. He believed in her. So why couldn’t she believe in herself, too?

O
N
Monday morning, Amy dropped by the surgery to see Marty.

‘My dear girl, it’s lovely to see you.’ He greeted her with a hug. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘It’s more what I can do for you. If you still want me to do that pain clinic, I will.’

‘We’d all be delighted to have you on board,’ he said warmly. ‘When’s a good time for you?’

She smiled. ‘Whenever. My time’s my own at the moment.’

He flicked into a screen on his computer. ‘How about Wednesday morning? Say, ten until one?’

‘Fine. I take it you have patients in mind?’

‘There won’t be any problems filling the slots,’ Marty said.

‘And I can prescribe from here, or book sessions with a physio, or refer patients to a surgical team?’ Amy asked.

Marty smiled. ‘Of course. And I’ll make sure all the admin side of things is sorted before you start.’

‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘Um, Marty, I’ll only be here for a month. I could do a training session for the GPs, if you like, about triaging back pain. I mean, I know you all
know the red flags and what to look out for, but if a refresher would be helpful and I wouldn’t be treading on anyone’s toes…’

‘That’d be very helpful,’ Marty said. ‘And if you can include the gamma knife stuff, that’ll help us all to keep up to date. I’ll find out when everyone’s free, shall I, and let you know?’

‘Great. And if you can get me a connection for my laptop to a large TV screen, I can do you a proper presentation with diagrams.’

‘Better than that,’ Marty said. ‘June’s the head of the primary school now. There’s a big government thing at the moment about how schools have to be “extended” and offer services to the community, so we can borrow a classroom with an interactive whiteboard—and if you put your presentation on a memory stick, June can load it up for you.’

‘Marty, I never knew you were such a wheeler-dealer.’

‘It helps us,’ Marty said, ‘and it helps June—it’s evidence for her report that she’s offering things to the community. Plus, of course, it helps school funds. But don’t get her started on that.’

On Wednesday morning, just before her first clinic, Amy felt even more nervous than she had when she’d first started as a neurologist; but when her first patient walked in, clearly in pain, her training kicked in and everything seemed to flow.

In the fifteen-minute break scheduled between the two batches of patients, Tom brought her a coffee. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

She took a risk and kissed him; the surprise and pleasure in his eyes sent a warm glow through her. ‘It’s great. You were right—this is something I needed to do.’And the fact
that he’d believed in her, even when she hadn’t been able to believe in herself, really helped.

‘Good. While you’re in grateful mode, there’s something I want to ask you.’

‘What?’

‘I have a patient with lumbar canal stenosis. He’s going to have an op, and he’s coming in tomorrow to chat to me about it.’

‘And you want me to talk him through it?’ she guessed.

He spread his hands. ‘You were brilliant with Mrs Cooper.’

‘All right. Joe still has his skeleton,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘but I might need you as a model. You might have to strip.’

His eyes glittered. ‘Oh, yes?’

‘Just to the waist. So I can point out bits on your back.’

His smile broadened. ‘Sure. And if you want me to strip for you later—the full monty—it’ll be my pleasure. Or, even better…’ he nuzzled the sensitive spot just behind her ear ‘…you can take my clothes off for me.’

She felt herself flush. ‘Tom Ashby, you can’t proposition me like that at work!’ But she was laughing as he stole another kiss and left her consulting room.

The clinic had made her realise how much she’d missed medicine, being part of a team and helping people. And maybe Tom was right; maybe she really did have a future in medicine.

On Thursday morning, Amy joined Tom in his consulting room to see Mr Garson, his patient with lumbar canal stenosis.

With Eloise being an emergency specialist, Tom had never worked with her as a team; but Amy’s specialty was different, and Tom loved the idea of working with her to help a patient.

Tom introduced her to Mr Garson, then sat back to let
Amy do the talking, prepared to step in with additional information where she needed it.

Amy had her laptop screen slanted so that Mr Garson could see it. ‘This is a picture of the lower part of your spinal canal. As you get older, the space narrows—as does the space between the discs in your spine—so when you move the bones pinch the nerves in your spine, and that’s what’s causing the pain.’

‘Some days are better than others,’ Mr Garson said, ‘but I can’t walk as well as I could. My legs hurt and go weak.’ He grimaced. ‘And whoever said Norfolk’s flat hasn’t walked down the cliff road.’

‘Do you find it’s easier to walk uphill than downhill?’ Amy asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And it’s better when you sit down, lean forward or put your foot up on a stool?’

He nodded. ‘I can’t lie down to play trains with my grandson, though. Hurts like mad if I lie on my tummy.’

‘And the treatment so far hasn’t worked?’

‘Painkillers, physio, and then a combination of bed rest to reduce the inflammation followed by light activity,’ Tom confirmed. ‘No, they haven’t.’

‘May I look at your X-rays?’ Amy asked.

Mr Garson gave his consent, and Tom brought up the images on his computer.

‘Can you see these lumps here?’Amy pointed them out. ‘These are called osteophytes—they’re bony spurs that your body can develop with age. They definitely need to be removed. So you’re booked in for a laminectomy?’

‘And I have to admit I’m not looking forward to it,’ Mr Garson said.

‘Lots of patients say the same—until they come round
and discover that the pain’s gone,’ Amy said reassuringly. She brought another diagram up onto the screen. ‘If you see these bones here—your surgeon will trim the bony arch, and that takes the pressure off the nerves, so the pain will go.’

‘But if you’re taking the bone away, won’t it mean that the bones are weaker?’ Mr Garson asked.

‘No. I suppose it’s a bit like if you have a door that sticks, you plane the edge off so it stops sticking against the frame,’ Amy said.

Tom loved the way she explained things—just as she’d used the example of the tripod on a camera to describe the head frame for gamma knife surgery, this made it so much easier for the patient to relate to and took a lot of the fear away. Amy was brilliant with patients, and he could see exactly why she’d become a consultant relatively quickly.

At this point he was half expecting her to ask him to take his shirt off to act as a model, but clearly she’d been teasing him because instead she explained about the MRI scan to Mr Garson.

‘It’s a very common operation,’ she reassured him, ‘and your surgeon will have done quite a few of them, so try not to worry.’

‘But my back won’t crumble?’

‘It won’t crumble,’ Amy reassured him. ‘And you’ll be out of bed the day after surgery with the help of physio-therapists. We like to get you moving as soon as possible because it will help you recover more quickly.’

‘Will it hurt?’ he asked.

‘Yes, at first, but you’ll have painkillers to get you started and it will get easier every day. And the really good news is that the pain in your leg will be either a lot better or completely gone, straight away.’

‘And how long do I have to stay in hospital?’

‘Usually it’s a few days,’ Amy said. ‘When you go home, it’s a good idea to make sure it’s in a car with a reclining seat so you can lie back. I use dissolvable stitches, but if your surgeon doesn’t, you’ll go back to have the stitches out in ten days.’

‘It’ll take you about six weeks to recover and you absolutely mustn’t lift anything,’ Tom added.

‘But keep as mobile as possible to help yourself heal,’ Amy said. ‘I’d recommend taking showers rather than a bath for the first couple of weeks. You’ll also have some further physiotherapy, which is likely to start about three weeks after the op, and you’ll be back to see your surgeon in Outpatients about six weeks later.’

‘How long will I be off work?’ Mr Garson asked.

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a postman.’

‘So that’s a lot of walking and lifting.’ Amy grimaced. ‘Not for at least three months, possibly four. Do you play any sport?’

‘Rugby.’

‘Absolutely not, for six months after the op—it puts too much strain on your spine,’ Amy explained.

‘And, um…me and the wife?’ Colour stained his cheeks.

Tom came to his rescue. ‘About three weeks, but you need a position that won’t put pressure on your back.’

‘And don’t arch your spine,’ Amy added. ‘Is there anything else that you’ve been worrying about? Even if you think it’s something little or silly, please ask, because I’d much rather have a patient who isn’t worried, and I know my colleagues all feel the same.’

‘I think that’s it,’ Mr Garson said. ‘You’ve made it all so clear. I can tell the wife and she won’t be worrying quite so much.’

When he’d closed the consulting-room door behind him, Tom said softly, ‘Thank you. You were brilliant.’

She shrugged off the compliment. ‘It’s one of the most common ops.’

‘Even so. He was worried sick, and you’ve taken a huge weight off him.’

‘Good. Well, I’ll see you later. Are you in surgery this afternoon?’

‘No. So if you’re free for lunch…may I have the pleasure of your company?’

She nodded. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Good. And, Amy?’

‘Yes?’

He kissed her lightly. ‘That’s on account.’

She grinned. ‘I’ll hold you to that, Dr Ashby.’

Tom concentrated on his patients for the rest of the morning, but all the way home he thought of Amy. He loved the quickness of her mind, her gentleness, her sudden grin and the unexpected flare of mischief in her eyes. And he couldn’t wait to see her again, listen to her telling him about her day and then telling her about his.

Then it hit him.

He’d broken all the rules.

He’d fallen in love with Amy.

Part of him felt guilty about it. He shouldn’t be feeling this way so soon after Eloise; it had only been a year. And yet Amy, with her huge heart and her innate kindness, had brought so much light, so much joy into his life. Perdy’s, too. He wanted it to stay that way.

She’d admitted that she’d missed him when he’d gone away. And she’d trusted him enough to tell him about her past. But, given her experiences with Colin, would she be
able to trust him that bit further, in time, and become a family with him and Perdy?

Amy was working on the casebooks when he returned, and he made them both a sandwich while she finished the section she’d just started.

‘Thanks,’ she said, kissing him as she joined him at the table.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

‘I’m enjoying it. And I think Joseph was having a good time because his writing’s relaxed instead of cramped with worry.’

‘So how much of your sabbatical do you have left—six weeks?’

‘Something like that,’ she said.

‘And then you’re going back to London?’

She toyed with her sandwich. ‘I don’t know. Though I am starting to miss work. You’re right, Tom: a doctor is who I am and what I want to be. It’s just a matter of whether I can trust myself again.’

He reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘From what I’ve seen of you, you’re a good doctor. Follow your instincts: they won’t let you down, and you’re not going to let yourself down. But…’

‘But?’

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘it might be worth trying working in a different hospital, one where you don’t have memories to haunt you and bring back all the doubts.’

‘That’s a very good point,’ she said, squeezing his hand back. ‘Thanks, Tom. You’ve really helped.’

Was that more he could see in her eyes, or was he just wishing it was there?

But now wasn’t the right time to push. The last thing he wanted was to make her back away. He needed the right
place and the right time to ask her if she’d consider staying near him. Of course Perdy had to come first—there was no question about that. But he was pretty sure that Perdy liked Amy enough to want her to stay in their lives.

Sure, it was greedy of him to want everything, but with Amy in his life there was a good chance he could have everything he’d always wanted: an equal partner who’d put their family first, just as he did. Someone who loved him as much as he loved her.

He couldn’t tell her in words.

But he could tell her another way.

And when they’d finished lunch, he drew her hand up to his mouth, keeping his gaze fixed on hers, and kissed each knuckle in turn. Her eyes widened as he pressed his tongue against the pulse beating madly in her wrist; and that crazy tattoo told him she wanted this as much as he did. He continued kissing his way up her arm to the sensitive spot in the crook of her elbow, then pulled her onto his lap so she was sitting astride him.

The next thing he knew, her hands were tangled in his hair and she was kissing him with the same hunger that seared deep inside him. He untucked her shirt from her jeans and flattened his palms against her midriff; she shifted so that her sex was pressed against his. The soft denim was way too much of a barrier for his liking—and so was the fragile lace of her bra. He slid one hand up her back, smoothing his palm against her spine, then unsnapped her bra and pushed the material out of the way so he could cup her breasts.

I love you, he said silently, willing her to realise it.

Right at that moment, he really needed to feel her body wrapped round his. Impatience made his fingers clumsy and he couldn’t undo one of the buttons of her shirt; he tugged,
and it pinged off. The sound brought him back to his senses. ‘Amy, I’m so sorry,’ he began. ‘I shouldn’t have—’

‘If you hadn’t done it, I would’ve done,’ she told him, her voice low and husky, ‘because I’m going crazy here, Tom. I need to feel you against me.’

Desire spun through him again. His fingers tangled with hers as together they removed her shirt; he heard her sharp intake of breath as the pad of his thumb brushed against her nipples, and he felt her nipples hardening under his touch, telling him that she wanted this as much as he did.