Neurosurgeon...and Mum! (9 page)

Tom sighed. ‘The more I look at it, the less I can see. The less I can remember. She never even made it to Perdy’s nativity plays—she got me to video them for her, but it wasn’t the same as actually being there in the audience so Perdy could look out from the stage and see her clapping next to all the other mums.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘I have days when I wonder why the hell I married her—and then I feel guilty about being so mean and judgemental.’

‘Feelings aren’t all black and white,’ Amy said. ‘They’re
complicated.’ Like the way she was feeling right now about Tom. Wanting to preserve some distance between them to keep her heart safe, and yet at the same time unable to keep away. ‘If I hadn’t had Joe and Cassie, I might’ve had the same kind of trouble as Eloise—I wouldn’t have known how to show people I cared. Joe and Cassie showed me.’ She grimaced. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I do love my parents—but I’m a lot closer to Joe and Cassie than I am to them.’

The pain in Tom’s eyes deepened. ‘I tried to show Eloise how to love, and I think Perdy tried, too. But we just weren’t enough for her. She wanted to save the world, and we were just in the way.’ He looked bleak. ‘And I resent her for that. I really resent her. What kind of sick bastard am I, to be angry with someone who’s dead and can’t defend herself?’

‘A perfectly human one. It’s one of the stages of grief,’ Amy said softly.

‘It’s still wrong of me to feel that way. Eloise did so much good in the world, and it’s tragic that she died young. Thirty-three’s no age at all.’

‘True. But she wasn’t able to give you and Perdy what you needed,’Amy pointed out. ‘A partnership’s about give and take. And you always, always put your child first, no matter what your ambitions and hopes are.’ That was what she’d done with Millie. In that situation, someone had had to lose, and it was better that it had been her rather than the little girl. As an adult, she’d had a better capacity to deal with it. Even though it had ripped her heart into little pieces. ‘Tom, you’ve done a fantastic job bringing Perdy up.’

‘Have I?’

She knew the self-doubt was real, and that he wasn’t fishing for compliments. Clearly he was terrified that his child would grow up with the same emotional blocks as her mother, and he felt powerless to stop it happening.

‘Let me ask you something. When Perdy woke in the night as a baby, who went to see her? Who fed her, changed her nappy, rocked her back to sleep?’

‘I did,’ he admitted, ‘because I was the one who was there. Eloise would’ve done it had she not been on night duty or what have you.’

Amy didn’t share his conviction, but kept her thoughts to herself. ‘OK, let me ask you something else. Who read her bedtime stories? Who picked her up when she fell over, kissed a bruise better and put sticking plasters over cuts?’

‘I get your point.’

‘I don’t think you do. Tom, what I’m trying to say is that Perdy’s not going to be like Eloise. She’s grown up with affection in her life. She knows that she’s loved. I’ve seen you with her—you always talk to her about her day and take an interest in what she does, and it’s not just focussed on whether she got ten out of ten on her spelling tests. You ask her what she enjoyed best in her day, what she had for school dinner.’

‘But she’s so quiet, Amy. So quiet and neat and tidy.’ He shook his head in seeming frustration. ‘It’s like she isn’t a child.’

‘Of course she is,’Amy reassured him. ‘Not all kids are messy and noisy and race around all the time. I was always quiet, when I wasn’t here—and even here, I was always quiet for the first few days of the holidays, until I’d settled back into being part of Joe and Cassie’s brood. Yes, Perdy chatters a bit to me, but I think that’s because she recognises me as someone who was the same as her when I was little.’ Another thing that had made them bond: they understood each other instinctively. ‘Don’t judge yourself too harshly, Tom. It’s tough, being a single parent. As you said, you don’t have anyone to talk over your decisions with. You worry that you’re doing it wrong. Anyone would,
in your shoes. But you’re doing your best—and what you’re doing is good enough.’

‘It doesn’t feel it.’

‘Tom, you don’t have to be perfect. It’s probably better that you’re not—because then your child knows life doesn’t always work the way you want it to, and you can show by example that there are different ways of dealing with problems.’ She smiled at him. ‘Perdy believes in you, so give yourself a break and start believing in yourself.’ She reached over and squeezed his free hand.

But when she was about to release him, Tom drew her hand up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle in turn. Then, with his gaze locked with hers, he kissed the pulse that beat crazily at her wrist.

She knew she ought to pull away, that this was a bad idea. And yet at the same time, maybe it wasn’t. She could comfort Tom, make him feel better. Make him feel loved, the way Eloise hadn’t been able to make him feel. And he could drive her nightmares away. Let her feel something other than panic and regret.

She knew these were dangerous thoughts. Ones she didn’t have the right to have. But she couldn’t stop them.

The feel of his mouth against her skin made her feel as if she were dissolving. She touched his face with her other hand, stroking his cheek. He’d shaved that morning and his skin was soft, warm. Inviting.

‘Tom,’ she said softly.

He stood up, moved to her side of the table and drew her to her feet. He dipped his head and kissed the corner of her mouth, making her shiver. His mouth brushed lightly against hers—and then they were kissing in earnest. Tom lifted her onto the table and nudged his thighs between hers; she wrapped her legs round his thighs, drawing him closer.

When he broke the kiss, he stared at her. ‘I’m so sorry, Amy. That wasn’t fair of me. You’ve been hurt before and I shouldn’t try to rush you into…whatever this thing is between us.’

This was her cue to release him and slide off the table.

But she didn’t. Couldn’t. She simply reached up to run the pad of her forefinger along his lower lip. ‘It wasn’t just you,’ she said. ‘And before…I don’t think it was enough to get this out of our systems.’

‘So what are you suggesting?’ he asked.

‘Neither of us is in a fit state to consider a relationship. We’re both in a bad place,’ she said. ‘But maybe…’ This was a huge risk, and if he turned her down, there was no way she’d be able to stay here. But his eyes held a question—and a tiny flicker of hope.

He pressed a kiss into her palm and closed her fingers over it. ‘Maybe what?’

‘Maybe…’ Oh, why was this so hard to say? ‘Maybe we can help each other out of the bad place.’

His eyes turned the most amazing shade of grey-green. Shimmering. Like the sea on a winter afternoon, lit by a pale sun. ‘I’ve been going slowly crazy these last few days—lying awake at night, thinking of you.’

‘Me, too,’ she said. And it hadn’t been the nightmares that had kept her awake the last couple of nights. It had been remembering how Tom had touched her. How he’d felt beneath her fingertips. How his mouth had felt against hers. And how she wanted more.

‘I want to make love with you,’ he told her, his voice low and fierce and almost cracked with longing. ‘Right now. I want to lose myself in you. Let you lose yourself in me.’ He brushed a kiss against her mouth. ‘But.’

He had objections?

He smiled. ‘No objections.’

She felt her face flush. ‘Uh. I didn’t intend to say that out loud.’

He stole a kiss. ‘I know. All I meant was, we’re going to have to wait until I can go into the next large town and buy a pack of condoms from someone who doesn’t know either of us.’

‘If either of us goes into the village to buy some, the news is going to be all around the village before we get home,’ she agreed wryly. ‘And we’ve already used my last one.’ She reached up to steal a kiss. ‘Just so you know, I don’t make a habit of this kind of thing.’

‘Neither do I.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I guess the boundaries have shifted again.’

Yes, and she needed to re-establish them. Put the rules in place so neither of them got hurt. ‘This is just between us. For as long as…well. As long as I’m here, as long as we’re both hurting.’ Because she wasn’t staying and she didn’t want either of them having any false illusions. ‘But as far as everyone else is concerned—including Perdy, because it’s not fair to tell her about this until we’re sure about whatever’s happening—we’re just sharing a house and dog-sitting duties.’ She paused. ‘And I won’t repeat what you told me.’

‘I know you won’t. And I appreciate that.’ He smiled. ‘I trust you, so I wasn’t even going to ask you to keep it confidential.’ He drew her close and rested his cheek against hers. ‘I’ve dumped a lot on you. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. Apart from the fact that I dumped all the stuff about Colin on you, the other I asked you to tell me. And I think you needed to get some of that out. To give you space inside to see a different slant on things.’ She stroked his hair. ‘So what are you going to do about Perdy’s grandparents?’

He sighed. ‘Ring them and sort out a more reasonable date for a visit. They need to understand that I’m not going to ask “how high” every time they say “jump”, and they’ll see Perdy only with me—so I can step in if they try pressuring her the way they pressured Eloise. I love my little girl for who she is, not because she’s pretty and she’s clever. And no way am I abandoning her to their clutches.’

Amy couldn’t help smiling. ‘Tom, that’s a bit dramatic. Don’t forget, they lost their only child.’

‘And they’re not replacing her with mine,’ he said grimly.

‘Have they challenged you for custody?’

‘No.’ His eyes widened. ‘Oh, my God. That never occurred to me.’

‘Tom, they wouldn’t have a chance in hell. No court would take a child from where she’s very clearly loved and flourishing and put her somewhere else.’ She stroked the hair away from his forehead. ‘My guess is that they miss Eloise, they’ve had time to think about the mistakes they’ve made, and they really want to see Perdy. Except they’re hopeless at communicating. And, because of the way they’ve behaved in the past, you feel defensive—as anyone else in your situation would—and maybe you’re reading things into their words that they didn’t actually mean.’

‘Maybe.’ Tom gave her a rueful smile. ‘Have you always been this clear-sighted?’

‘It’s a lot easier to do for other people than for yourself,’ she said.

‘It’s still appreciated, though.’ He sighed. ‘I admit, I resent Eloise’s parents, too. Maybe if they’d put less pressure on Eloise and made her feel more loved, she would’ve been happy with me and Perdy. She would’ve been content to have a career and a family, instead of feeling that she had to excel at everything and go that little bit further. And
maybe that’s why she was always so relieved to go away: because there she was Eloise Ashby, the woman who could make a difference and save the world. And although she never said anything to me—she would rather have died than admit it—I think she knew she wasn’t that good at being a mum.’

‘And for someone who wanted to be perfect,’ Amy said softly, ‘that would’ve been really tough to deal with. Maybe she wasn’t rejecting you and Perdy, Tom. Maybe she felt that she was the one who couldn’t live up to you, because—despite the fact you don’t seem to realise it—you’re a natural at parenting. And maybe she didn’t let herself get close because she was terrified of failing and of Perdy rejecting her.’

‘That never occurred to me,’ Tom said, looking shocked. ‘She was my wife. I loved her, Amy. I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t.’ He shook his head. ‘If only she’d talked to me, told me how she felt.’

‘When you think you have to be perfect, it’s hard to admit weakness.’

Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘That sounds personal.’

‘Not me—my parents. That’s how they are. And that’s OK: I understand that and I can accept them for what they are. That way, we get the best out of each other. I don’t ask for things I know they can’t give me, and they don’t feel that they’re letting me down.’

‘How did you get to be so wise?’ Tom asked, stroking her hair.

Because her best friend had helped her see it. Ex-best friend. Amy’s throat tightened, and she evaded the question. ‘I can tell you now, Perdy’s really secure. I’ve heard you tell her you love her every single day.’

‘Because I do. She’s the light of my life.’ He looked at
her. ‘I can’t ever remember Eloise’s parents saying that to her. And, if yours were like hers, would I be right in guessing that they didn’t say it to you?’

‘It didn’t occur to them,’ she said dryly. ‘And considering that my name means “beloved”, that’s pretty ironic. But Cassie and Joe did, when I was here. Every day they told their kids they loved them—and they always included me.’

‘Do you see much of your parents?’ he asked.

‘Not really. We’re on good terms, but we’re just not that close. They’re in the States right now.’

‘You didn’t think about taking your sabbatical there, spending time with them? Talking to them about what happened?’ Tom asked.

Amy gave a dry laugh. ‘It’s not the kind of thing they’d be helpful with.’

‘And Cassie and Joe aren’t here.’ He frowned. ‘Did you talk to them before you left London?’

She shook her head. ‘They were about to go and see Beth, ready to meet their first grandchild when he arrived. And now Sam’s here I’m not going to rain on their parade. I want them to enjoy their first memories of their grandson, not have everything bogged down by me being a misery-guts.’

‘So why don’t you talk to me?’

Her breath caught. ‘Talk to you?’

‘Let me do for you what you just did for me. Same deal: I’ll listen without judging.’

Talk about it.

Her heart rate sped up.

Could she?

‘You’ve got surgery this morning,’ she prevaricated.

He glanced at his watch. ‘In an hour. Which means I’ve got fifty minutes. That’s enough to make a start, at least.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Talk to me, Amy.’

A
MY’S
skin suddenly felt too tight.

Talk about it.

No. She’d resisted the idea of counselling for a good reason. ‘Talking won’t change a thing.’

‘Funny, someone told me not so long ago that it would make a difference. That talking won’t change the past, but it might change the way you see things and help you deal with them.’ He stroked her face. ‘I didn’t believe her—but guess what? She was right. I’m still angry and I still resent Eloise and her parents, but I can see my way to dealing with that now. I understand why I feel the way I do, and that’s half the battle.’

She understood exactly why she felt the way she did. She didn’t need to talk about it.

‘Amy,’ he said softly. ‘Talk to me.’

She dragged in a breath. ‘You might not want to know me when I tell you.’

He kept his arms round her. ‘What’s so bad? You lost a patient? Amy, you can’t save everyone, and you know it. Just as I know that I can refer one of my patients to the top specialist in the country, but it still doesn’t give a hundred per cent guarantee that the treatment will work.’

‘I didn’t lose a patient.’ She frowned. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘You told Perdy you’d stopped being good at your job. I assumed it was an op that didn’t go to plan.’

‘You’re right there.’ She felt her mouth compress into a thin line. ‘Except my patient didn’t die.’

‘What happened, then?’

‘He survived. And he’s been in constant pain ever since.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I’m supposed to be a pain specialist, and I screwed up.’

‘You’re human, Amy. Everyone makes mistakes.’ He paused. ‘Though I’d guess that you’re always hard on yourself, so be honest with me—could anyone else have fixed it?’

‘Maybe.’

‘And maybe not,’ he prompted. ‘What happened?’

‘It was a horse-riding accident. He was thrown and landed badly. And then the horse rolled on him.’

‘So he had spinal cord damage?’ Tom guessed.

She nodded. ‘On the cusp. We weren’t sure if it was C8 or T1.’ Spinal injuries were referred to by the letter of the area of the spinal cord—cervical, thoracic, lumbar and sacral—and their position counting downwards from the top. Nerve damage above the first thoracic nerve, T1, meant that as well as paralysis in the legs, the arms would be paralysed and the muscles in the chest and abdomen would be affected, which in turn affected breathing and the ability to cough and clear the chest.

‘He’s going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, dependent on everyone round him. He’s never, ever going to be free of pain. And his career’s gone down the tubes—you can’t be a champion show-jumper if you can’t even get into the saddle.’

‘So he’s suing you?’

‘I’d feel better if he did.’ She swallowed hard. ‘But nothing I can do will ever make things better. Ever.’

‘When did it happen?’ he asked softly.

‘Last October,’ she said.

‘But there’s more to it than that.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

She nodded. ‘I’m not used to failing, Tom. I was a good surgeon. The fact I messed it up really knocked my confidence. And a couple of weeks ago I actually froze in an op. My head went completely blank. It was a textbook case and I couldn’t remember what to do. All my training felt as if it had vanished from my head. There was nothing there any more: just a big, black hole.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Luckily I had one of the most talented juniors with me and he sorted it out. But it was beyond his training level, and if anything had gone wrong it would’ve been my fault. I was the lead surgeon; I was responsible. In charge.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I screwed up. So I did the right thing: I resigned.’

‘So you’re not actually on sabbatical?’

‘Amazingly, I am. Though I don’t deserve to be.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Fergus Keating—my boss—refused to accept my resignation. He told me to go away for three months and think about things.’

‘Doesn’t that tell you how much he values you? That you’re too good at what you do for him to want to lose you?’

She sighed. ‘I used to be good. But I’ve lost it, Tom. I can’t do it any more.’

‘Your confidence has completely gone because of one op that didn’t go to plan, and which probably nobody else could’ve pulled off either,’ Tom said thoughtfully. ‘Why would a case get to you so much? Were you involved with him?’

‘Not in the way you’re thinking. But, yes, that’s what Fergus said. It’s why doctors are advised not to treat a relative or friend, because your emotions are involved and you don’t see things clearly. In neurosurgery, there isn’t room for mistakes. The structures are so delicate—the slightest wrong move can have catastrophic consequences. I deserve to be struck off for what I did.’

He frowned. ‘I’m not following you, Amy. Your friend was in an accident, he damaged his spinal cord in a really critical place, you tried to help him, you just couldn’t fix it. Perhaps I should admit that I looked you up on the internet.’

‘You did what?’ She stared at him, uncomprehending.

‘I was curious. And I know it was wrong and I shouldn’t have snooped. But, from what I’ve read about you,’ he said softly, ‘you’re gifted. If you couldn’t fix it, I’m damn sure nobody else could. You didn’t do anything wrong and I bet you gave him more movement back than other people could’ve done. Does he have full finger movement?’

‘I don’t know.’ The only people who could tell her that were Ben and Laura—and they weren’t talking to her. Ever.

‘If he does, he has you to thank. How can you be struck off for doing the best you possibly could?’

‘Because I failed, Tom. I let Ben down.’ Her throat hurt, and she swallowed. ‘Worse, I let Laura down.’

‘Laura?’ he asked softly.

‘His wife.’ She could feel the tears welling up, the loss and misery rising to drown her again. ‘My best friend,’ she whispered. ‘My best friend for the last sixteen years, and I’ve lost her.’ She shuddered, willing the tears to stay back, but one spilled over anyway. Silently.

Tom said nothing, simply wiped it away with his thumb, and the sheer tenderness of the gesture almost undid her.

Now she’d started talking, the words kept spilling out.
‘We met on the first day at university. I’d just unpacked my stuff and I was homesick as hell, and I went into the kitchen and she was there, making coffee. She made me a mug and shared her chocolate biscuits with me—her parents had sneakily repacked her case and added all sorts of treats.’

It was the sort of thing his parents had done, Tom remembered. And he’d guess that Amy’s parents had been far too busy to think of a teenager taking her first steps out into the world and how to make it easier for her.

‘It didn’t matter that she was reading geography and I was a medic. We liked each other straight away. We liked the same kind of music, the same kind of films, the same kind of books. She was the best friend I’d ever had. Like a sister to me, as close as Beth was. I loved her so much, Tom. And I let her down. She trusted me to make Ben whole again, and I couldn’t do it.’

She choked back a sob. ‘Ben blames me for the fact he’s a paraplegic, and so does Laura. She hasn’t spoken to me since it happened. It’s the first year since I’ve known her that she hasn’t sent me a birthday card or a Christmas card.’ Her teeth chattered. ‘Laura made me a cake for my twenty-first birthday. In secret—I had no idea, though we shared a house. She even iced it. She’s the only one apart from Cassie who’s ever done anything like that for me. I love her so much and she’s going through hell, and I can’t support her through it because I’m the one who’s caused her all the pain.’

‘Amy, you did your best and nobody could ask more. Right now Laura’s life has been turned upside down. She’s hurting, and when you’re in pain you lash out at those you love most—because they’re safe to lash out at,’ Tom said softly.

‘She never, ever wants to see me again. I’ve tried calling
her, even writing her letters to tell her how sorry I am, but she can’t forgive me, Tom. And I can’t forgive me either.’

‘Could anyone else have done the op?’ he asked.

‘We were the nearest hospital.’

‘And you were the most senior neurosurgeon on duty?’

‘It was me or nobody. Fergus was in Venice, celebrating his silver anniversary, and Luke, the other consultant, was off with the flu. I was the only one at the London Victoria who could do it. And if we’d sent him to a different hospital, further away, the nerve damage might’ve deteriorated to other vertebrae and he might’ve ended up losing his wrist and elbow flexion.’

‘So, actually, you made the best of an impossible situation. You made the best decisions that could be made at the time.’

‘It doesn’t change the fact that I couldn’t help him. That I let them down. Nothing’s going to change that, Tom. Nothing’s going to bring Ben’s mobility back. And nothing’s going to heal the rift between my best friend and me. I hate the fact I’ve lost her. But even more I hate myself for not being able to help her through this, to support her the way that she…’Amy dragged in a breath ‘The way that she supported me when Colin broke up with me.’

She pulled away slightly, and he let her go.

‘So now you know.’

He remembered what she’d said earlier: you might not want to know me when I tell you.

That could’ve gone for him, too. He’d never talked about how he felt about Eloise, because he hadn’t wanted people to be disgusted by his selfishness. And yet he’d felt safe telling Amy: and he wanted her to feel safe, too. ‘Thank you for telling me. And I’ll keep your confidence.’ He leaned forward and stole a kiss. ‘I have a piece of information for you, Amy.’

‘Information?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He held her gaze. ‘I still want to know you.’

Tears filled her eyes again, but she blinked them back. ‘Really?’ Her voice was husky with pain.

‘Really,’ he confirmed. ‘What you told me doesn’t change my opinion of you at all.’

She swallowed hard. ‘You’d better go. You’ll be late for work.’

‘I don’t want to leave you right now.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. You have patients who need you.’

True, but she needed him as well. Even if she wasn’t going to admit it. He stroked her face. ‘I do have patients, yes, but you’re not fine.’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘I know. You’re strong. You’re an amazing woman.’ He held her close. ‘I’ll be back by one. And, just so you know, you and I are going to the beach just down the road. We’re going to walk on the beach, hand in hand, have a paddle, and then we’re going to have a picnic lunch.’

She frowned. ‘Won’t you have paperwork?’

He shrugged. ‘I can sort that later, on my laptop. But you and I just went through the wringer again, relived some pretty dark stuff. I think we deserve to play hooky and get some fresh air, to make ourselves feel slightly more normal again—don’t you?’

‘Yes. Thank you. For listening and not judging.’ She leaned forward slightly, resting against him.

‘And thank you for doing the same.’ He paused. ‘I think we might be good for each other, Amy. In more than one way.’ He gave her a last kiss. ‘I’ll see you at one, OK?’

‘OK. Have a good morning.’

Tom’s last patient that morning was the infamous Betty Jacklin. This time she was convinced that she had heart failure. ‘I checked my symptoms against the book, and I’ve got them all. I’ve got dyspnoea, orthopnoea, cardiac asthma, nocturnal cough, fatigue, poor exercise tolerance, cold peripheries, and my muscles are wasting. So I’ve got left ventricular failure.’

There was one symptom she was missing, he noticed. Weight loss. And he could see no signs of cyanosis. He was pretty sure that his patient didn’t have heart failure, but the fact that she kept coming back to the surgery with different symptoms told him that she was truly anxious about something. The different suspected medical conditions were a blind for the real problem, he was sure. Especially as she’d used medical terms rather than layman’s. He’d just bet she had a medical textbook at home.

‘Those are certainly the symptoms of LVF,’ he said gently, ‘but they’re also symptoms of other diseases. I’d like to listen to your chest, if I may, and do a couple of tests. Is that all right?’

She went pink. ‘Yes, Doctor.’

He listened to her chest. If she’d learned the symptoms off by heart, then he could reassure her bit by bit. ‘The good news is, I can’t hear a murmur.’

‘What about wheezing?’

‘There is a little, yes, but we’ll talk about that when I’ve given you a breathing test and checked a couple of other things—because lots of things cause wheezing. I can’t hear any crackles, so that’s good. May I check your blood pressure?’

‘Yes, Doctor.’

He did so. ‘It’s a hundred and thirty-five over eighty.’

‘That’s too high. It should be a hundred and twenty.’ Her eyes widened.

‘The bottom figure’s the important one,’ he said, ‘because that’s your blood pressure as your heart relaxes between beats. And you probably know from your reading that the top figure tends to rise as you get older because your arteries aren’t quite as elastic as they are when you’re young. But this is in line with your past readings, so I’m happy with it.’

She lifted her chin. ‘You think I’m wasting your time, don’t you?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I think you’re worried, and I want to check you over. I also think,’ he added gently, ‘that reading medical textbooks is incredibly bad for you. It makes you worry yourself sick, literally. Can I tell you a secret?’

She went even pinker. ‘Yes, of course, Dr Ashby.’

‘Every medical student I know goes through exactly the same thing. They study the disease and its symptoms, and then start thinking how many symptoms they have. I convinced myself I had malaria once—and that was despite never having visited an area where there was malaria.’

She looked away. ‘So you think I’m just being a silly old woman.’

‘No,’ he said again, ‘you’re worried, and I want to reassure you. I’d like to give you an ECG—I’m sure you know that that’s a readout of the electrical activity of your heart—so I can see how your heart is beating.’ He knew that they had an ECG machine at the surgery. ‘Would you like to come with me, Miss Jacklin? It won’t take very long.’