Neurosurgeon...and Mum! (4 page)

‘Until a week or so after your uncle and aunt get back from Australia.’

‘And you’ve settled in OK?’

He knew she was being polite rather than really wanting to know. ‘Fine.’ He had, at least; he wasn’t so sure about his daughter. Not that he could discuss that with Amy. She’d made her views on children pretty clear. ‘I like it here. Though the village grapevine is pretty effective,’ he said ruefully.

‘Grapevine?’

‘When I saw Mrs Poole on a house call this afternoon, she knew you were back. Though I didn’t feed her any gossip. I told her you were dog-sitting.’

The corners of Amy’s mouth quirked. ‘Tomorrow, you can expect to hear that you’re having a hot affair with the wild child from London. So if you have someone in your life who’s going to be bothered by that—except your daughter, who already knows we’re not involved—you’d better warn her now.’

‘There’s nobody.’ Tom hadn’t intended to say that much.
But the picture she’d just put in his head…Oh, lord, he could just imagine it. A hot affair with Amy Rivers. Her mouth softening under his. Her hands in his hair. Finding out how warm and soft her skin was.

He just hoped none of that showed in his expression, or she’d run a mile. ‘So were you really a wild child?’ he asked.

She gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘Far from it. But since when did truth get in the way of a good story?’

‘I’m sorry if sharing the house with me is going to make life difficult for you.’

‘It won’t.’ She shrugged. ‘If anyone says anything to you, just laugh and ask them if they know where you can get a few more hours in a day, because with a little girl to look after you really don’t have time for a love life.’

‘That,’ Tom said, ‘is absolutely true.’ And he’d do well to remember that. Any fantasies he might entertain about Amy Rivers had to stay exactly that: fantasies.

On Friday afternoon, Tom was in surgery seeing his last patient before he had to pick up Perdy from the after-school club. Max Barton had passed out at work, and when his colleagues had brought him in Max had said that he felt tired all the time and had to get up at night more frequently to go for a wee. He’d put it down to getting older and putting in more hours at work, but the symptoms—together with Max’s ample girth—made Tom suspect something else. He’d also noticed a plaster on Max’s thumb, and Max had eventually admitted that he’d cut his hand several days before but the cut just wasn’t healing properly. Tom had checked his blood pressure and sent off blood samples, and now the results were back.

‘Let’s start with the good news, Mr Barton,’ he said. ‘It’s not cancer or heart disease.’

‘But?’ Max asked.

‘Your blood tests,’ Tom said gently, ‘show that you have type two diabetes. That’s the late-onset type, so we can keep it under control with diet and tablets. The good news there is that you’re not going to have to inject yourself with insulin.’

Max blew out a breath and relaxed back against the chair. ‘I’m so glad. Dad died from a heart attack and I was scared stupid that it might happen to me and the kids would have to grow up without me.’

Yeah. Tom knew all about that feeling. Especially now there was only him; and he resented the fact that Eloise hadn’t seemed even to give it a thought before she’d left. Of course saving other people’s children was a good thing to do, but did it have to be at the cost of your own?

He snapped his attention back. Not now. His patients had to come first. ‘You can put your mind at rest there,’ he said gently, ‘though I’m afraid there will be a few needles for a bit—you’ll need to keep testing your blood sugar levels so we can fine-tune the tablets to suit you. And there are also some things we need to keep an eye on, complications that sometimes come with diabetes, so I’ll book you in for the clinic here once a month. Can you remember the last time you had your eyes tested?’

Max spread his hands. ‘I’ve never had a problem with my eyes.’

‘Sure,’ Tom said, ‘but you need to book yourself in and have eye tests at least once a year now, because diabetes can sometimes cause problems with eyes.’

Max frowned. ‘So why have I got it? Why me, why now?’

‘We don’t know why some people get it and not others,’ Tom said honestly. ‘It’s known as late onset because it tends to happen in your forties. Sometimes it runs in
families, but not necessarily. Men are twice as likely as women to get it, and you’re also more likely to get it if you’re overweight and don’t do enough exercise.’

‘I’ve always been big,’ Max said. ‘Everyone in my family’s big-boned. But I’ve cut down on the beer and I always have fruit when someone brings cakes in to work.’ He sighed. ‘I know I ought to go to the gym or something, but there’s never enough time, and to be honest I don’t really fancy all that bodybuilding stuff.’

‘The fitter you keep yourself,’ Tom said, ‘and the better you control your diabetes, the less likely you are to develop complications. You don’t have to go to the gym. Find something you enjoy doing with your family—that way you’ll all get the benefit, whether it’s going for a walk or a swim or just kicking a ball around in the park.’

‘I suppose we could do that,’ Max said.

Tom ran through what the condition involved, how to take the tablets he was about to prescribe and how Max could take readings of his blood sugar and what they meant he needed to do next. ‘I’m also going give you some leaflets to take home, including how to get in touch with the local diabetes support group,’ Tom said, ‘and I’ll arrange an appointment for you at the diabetic clinic here at the practice. You’re bound to have questions, and we can answer them all there—and your wife’s very welcome to come along too. I’ll get in touch with the dietician, too. It’s a good idea to keep a diary for a week of what you eat, how much and when, and take it along with you to the appointment—it’ll save you some time in working things out.’

‘So do I have to eat special diabetic foods?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Tom fished out one of the leaflets and handed it to him. ‘It’s all about eating healthily. Regular meals, plenty of fruit and veg and foods with a low GI—that
means your body absorbs them more slowly and your blood sugar doesn’t suddenly spike—and cutting down on salt, sugar and fats. You don’t have to eat anything special, and everyone in the family can eat the same as you—it’ll be good for them, too.’ He smiled at the older man. ‘It’s a lot to take in all at once, which is one of the reasons why we have leaflets—they’ll answer the questions you wish you’d thought of when you’re halfway home. But if you’re worried about anything at all, just give us a call.’ He tapped into the practice system and booked an appointment. ‘And Jenny, the practice nurse, will see you on Tuesday morning at ten.’

‘Do I have to tell my boss?’ Max looked stricken. ‘I might lose my job.’

‘It’s not compulsory, no. But it’s a good idea to tell your boss and your colleagues, so they know what to do to help you if you suddenly have a hypo.’ Tom explained what would happen if Max’s blood sugar suddenly dropped and how people could deal with it. ‘You will need to tell the DVLC and your insurance company. But as long as your diabetes is well controlled, it shouldn’t be a problem.’

Max closed his eyes and blew out a breath. ‘It’s a lot to take in. But it’s such a relief to know I’m not going to just drop down dead like my dad did.’

Yeah. That was Tom’s own biggest fear. If anything happened to him, what would happen to his daughter? He and Eloise had both been only children. There wasn’t a family network who could take over. His parents were too old, and Eloise’s were as uninterested in their granddaughter as they’d been in their daughter. The only thing they were interested in was her end-of-year school report; and for Tom that was only part of who his daughter was. No way was he going to let them pressure her, the way they’d pressured Eloise.

He pushed the fear aside and concentrated on answering Max’s remaining questions, then glanced at his watch. He was going to be late picking Perdy up from after-school club. But he couldn’t have rushed his patient out of the door. Sometimes, he thought, juggling single fatherhood with his job was too tricky. And he still hadn’t thought about how he was going to cope with the long summer holidays.

Joseph’s papers. They were here somewhere, Amy thought, opening a fourth box.

And then she blinked. It was full of books. A quick glance at some of the covers told her they were the ones she and Beth had devoured when they’d been around Perdy’s age. Given that Perdy had been reading at the kitchen table yesterday, maybe this would be a good way of apologising for being abrupt. A gesture. Some were probably too old-fashioned now, but she was pretty sure that Perdy would enjoy some of the others. She picked out an armful of the ones she’d enjoyed most, and left them stacked on top of the box while she searched for the box containing Joseph’s papers. Once she’d located it and had taken the papers she needed downstairs, she returned to the loft to collect the books. Then, just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Tom walked through the front door with his daughter.

He brushed a hand against her face and Amy nearly dropped the books as desire shimmered through her. Oh, this was ridiculous. She knew he was single and not involved with anyone, because he’d told her so the previous night; but that didn’t mean he was interested in getting involved with her. Whatever had happened between him and Perdy’s mother had clearly made him as wary, as Perdy was; and of course there was Perdy to think of.

Not to mention the fact that Amy didn’t make the same mistake twice. She’d learned the hard way, through Colin and Millie, that getting involved with a single father was a seriously bad idea. There were way too many complications; and it meant that more than one person ended up with their heart broken when it all ended.

She frowned at Tom, and he said, ‘Cobweb.’

Oh. So that was why he’d touched her face. And it wasn’t really surprising that she was covered in cobwebs, considering how she’d spent her afternoon. ‘I’ve been rummaging around in the attic,’ she explained.

And now for the biggie. Perdy’s eyes were averted and she looked uncomfortable. Hardly surprising, given how unwelcoming Amy had been, the previous day.

She took a deep breath. ‘Perdy, when I was your age, I used to read a lot, too. And while I was in the attic, I discovered that my aunt kept the books that my cousin Beth and I liked best. So, um, if you’d like to borrow any of them, feel free. I’ll leave them stacked on the bookcase, shall I?’

‘Thank you, Miss Rivers,’ Perdy said politely, though Amy noticed that the little girl still didn’t make any kind of eye contact and her face was etched with worry.

First-name terms didn’t mean getting involved, did it? Amy swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘As we’re going to be sharing the house and Buster for a while, until I go back to London, perhaps it’d be easier if you called me Amy.’

She saw the little girl look at her father for guidance, and Tom’s brief nod, and her heart ached. How much this reminded her of the time when she’d met Millie. Colin’s daughter had been four years old, sweet and shy. Her eyes had been the same serious grey as her father’s, and when she’d smiled Amy had discovered that Millie had the same charming dimples as Colin, too. At first Amy had been
‘Daddy’s friend Amy’. And then she’d earned smiles and hugs in her own right. The night that Millie had asked Amy to read her bedtime story instead of Colin was the moment Amy had realised how much she loved father and daughter, how deeply she’d wanted to be a proper family with them…

‘Thank you, Mi—Amy,’ Perdy corrected herself, breaking Amy’s train of thought and bringing her back to the present.

The expression of pleasure on the little girl’s face told Amy that she’d done the right thing. She wasn’t getting involved—this time, her heart was definitely going to stay unbroken—but she was making life just that little bit easier for someone else who’d had a rough time.

‘What are those?’ Tom asked, gesturing to the pile of notebooks on the table in the hallway.

‘Joseph’s casebooks. He was my…’ Amy counted on her fingers ‘…great-great-great-great-grandfather. The first doctor in the family. He trained in London, but he married a girl from Norwich and moved there.’ She smiled. ‘Joe’s named after him. Actually, it’s a family tradition that the eldest son of the eldest son is called Joseph.’

‘Why are you looking at his papers?’ Perdy asked.

‘Uncle Joe asked me if I’d take a look through them while I’m here. He and Dad always meant to sort it out, but as they’re both doctors—another family tradition—they were really busy at work and never got round to it.’

‘Are you a doctor, too?’ Perdy asked.

‘I was,’ Amy said.

‘Does that mean you aren’t a doctor now?’

‘Perdy,’ Tom said quietly, ‘shall we go and get you a glass of milk, and a treat for Buster?’

Distraction technique: Amy remembered that one. Although she appreciated it, at the same time she knew that
this was something she needed to face. ‘It’s OK, Tom. The only way you find out answers to things is to ask questions. Sometimes, Perdy, adults have to make difficult choices. That’s why I’m taking a sabbatical—that’s a kind of long holiday—to think about what I want to do next and make a decision.’

Perdy nodded. ‘Like Daddy, when he had to decide whether to come here or stay in London.’

There was a long, long pause. Amy glanced at Tom, and said quietly, ‘Well, I think he made a good decision. This is the best place in the world to think, when you’re walking along the sand and listening to the waves swishing in and the seagulls crying.’

‘I’m not allowed to go on the beach on my own,’ Perdy said.

‘Your dad’s absolutely right. Neither was I, at your age—there always had to be at least two of us, so if one of us got into trouble the other could run for help,’ Amy said solemnly. ‘And we had to pay attention to the tide warning siren—as soon as we heard it, we had to pack our stuff and come straight home. The tide comes in really quickly here, and people have been cut off.’

‘Were they drowned?’ Perdy asked.

Amy looked at Tom for guidance, and saw his slight nod. ‘Sadly, yes, some of them. But the last one was about five years ago, and it was someone who’d completely ignored the siren. As long as you listen to what the coastguards tell you, you’ll be fine.’ She smiled to take the sting from her words. ‘I’m going to cook dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready, shall I?’