Doctor Knows Best (10 page)

“It's obvious we've lost the battle,” he said sadly. “Don't blame yourselves,” he added as the whole team stood disconsolately in the cubicle. “I think the die was cast before this baby even reached hospital.”

Megan felt hot tears pricking the back of her eyelids. I can't cry here, she thought desperately, not in front of everyone else. Slipping out of the cubicle she hurried along the corridor looking for somewhere quiet, somewhere where she could control the tide of wretchedness that threatened to engulf her. Juliet Moore came out of the party and saw her. “What's the matter?” she asked in alarm, seeing the stricken look on Megan's face.

“The baby has just…just died. We couldn't resuscitate it,” gulped Megan, her brown eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I know it's silly, but I can't…” She stopped, tears choking her voice.

Juliet pushed open the door of Giles Elliott's office. “Go in there for a moment, no one is about,” she said quietly. “Don't worry about anything. I'll go and sort things out and do whatever needs to be done.” She pushed Megan into the office and closed the door behind her.

Megan walked across to the window and stood beside it, staring out with unseeing eyes. With a great effort she held back the tears, knowing that if she gave in to them they would come in a flood. So intent was she on controlling herself that she failed to hear the door of the office open quietly behind her.

“Megan?” Giles Elliott's voice startled her. “What are you doing here?”

“I…oh, I,” she faltered keeping her back turned towards him.

Gently he placed a strong hand on her slim shoulder and firmly turned her to face him. Megan hung her head, tears trembling on the ends of her silken brown lashes.

“Is it the baby?” Giles' voice was strangely gentle.

Mutely Megan nodded her head. Then, before she could stop herself, the tears came spilling over in a great hiccuping sob. She felt herself pulled into strong encircling arms, comforting in their strength. Her cap gave up the unequal struggle and fell from her shiny hair as his lips murmured soft words of comfort and endearment against her dark brown curls. Megan clung unashamedly to him, the rough tweed of his jacket underneath his white coat prickling the soft skin of her cheeks. At length she raised a tear-stained face to his.

“What must you think of me?” she whispered faintly. “This is a very unprofessional way to behave. I'm sorry.”

He smiled slowly; the blue of his eyes seemed darker and softer. “Don't be sorry for being human,” he said. “I'm glad you care, although I'm sorry it has upset you so much.”

Self-consciously Megan pushed him away and bent to retrieve her cap from the floor. “I'd better be going,” she said with a faint tremble to her voice. “There must be plenty to do.”

“Yes,” he said, almost absent-mindedly watching her trying to pin her cap back on.

Now that she was out of his arms, away from him, the last few moments seemed unreal to Megan. Had he really been whispering endearments into her hair? Had he really been holding her close against the comforting warmth of his body? In spite of her unhappiness about the baby, Megan had felt a peace in his arms she didn't know existed before.

But now the easy intimacy had disappeared and she felt ill at ease. “I'll see you tomorrow then,” she heard her voice stilted and embarrassed. “What time do you want me to be ready?”

“Oh, I would say about ten o'clock,” he replied, “unless you would prefer it to be later. You will probably be tired after this evening's party.”

Puzzled, Megan raised her eyebrows. “What party?” she asked. “I'm not going to any party.”

“Johnny Cox told me he was taking you to the Mess party tonight,” said Giles, sitting at his desk. He pulled a tray of notes towards him. “It will do you good to get out with some young people, enjoy yourself, take your mind off today's unpleasant incident.” The tone of his voice dismissed her and left Megan without an opportunity to reply.

Blast Johnny Cox, she thought. He really ought not to jump to conclusions, and Giles Elliott had suddenly made her feel as if she was about sixteen. Get out with some young people indeed! She wondered whether he was trying to emphasise to her the difference in their ages? Perhaps he sensed that she liked him far more than she should.

Ah well, no use worrying about it now, she thought as she dashed into the ladies' cloakroom and quickly tidied up her face. She didn't want the whole department to know she'd been howling. It wouldn't do her image much good if the pupil nurses knew she wasn't as cool and efficient as she always seemed to be. On leaving the cloakroom she bumped into Juliet.

“I've sorted everything out,” said Juliet. “The police have taken a statement from Mr. Elliott and the parents of the baby have now left with the police to give their version of the incident.”

“I'm sorry, Juliet,” said Megan, “leaving you to cope with all the unpleasant things. I should have done all that.”

“Nonsense,” said Juliet, “don't worry about it. I'm glad I was here to help.” She squeezed Megan's arm. “We none of us are as hardbitten as we like to think we are, and I think that's a good thing.” She smiled reassuringly at Megan, who wondered whether she knew that Giles Elliott had come into the office and found her in tears.

After that Megan tried to keep herself as busy as possible for the rest of the afternoon, but the thought of the baby haunted her. She felt sad and angry; it had been such an unnecessary death. When Johnny Cox came up later, at about five o'clock, Megan was sitting at the desk in Casualty opposite the cubicles, bundling up notes ready for return to Medical Records.

“What time are you finishing here?” he asked.

“I'm off at nine,” replied Megan. “And by the way, I've got a bone to pick with you. What do you mean by telling Giles Elliott I was going to the Mess party with you? You know I'm not.”

“Well,” said Johnny, “I didn't exactly tell him—in fact he suggested I take you. Seemed to think that perhaps you had taken that baby's death a bit hard.”

Megan looked down quickly. “Yes, I did,” she admitted quietly, “but I don't think going to a party would make me feel better. Still, I suppose it was a kind thought on his part.”

Johnny laughed. “Yes, it was, wasn't it? I have an inkling he thinks I'm smitten with you. That's why he suggested it to me, although I was going to ask you again anyway.”

“Thanks, but the answer is no,” said Megan firmly, “and don't waste your time getting smitten with me; I'm quite impervious to your charms—you should know that by now!”

Johnny sighed and perched himself on the edge of the desk. “You weren't the only one to feel upset about that baby,” he said slowly. “There are times when as a doctor I feel damned useless, and that was one of them.”

Impulsively Megan reached out and took his arm. “You did everything you could, everybody did.”

“But it wasn't enough,” answered Johnny in a strangely subdued voice. “It was not enough.”

Megan looked at him. This was a Johnny she had never seen before, quite a different Johnny from the bright, breezy Canadian who never seemed to have a care in the world.

He took her hand. “Come to the party, just for a little while,” he said persuasively.

Megan hesitated; what was there to lose? If she stayed in her flat she knew she would inevitably start to brood over the baby incident. “All right,” she said slowly, “but I'm not going to stay late. I've got to get myself organised ready to go home to Devon in the morning.”

Johnny swung his long legs round and jumped down from the desk. “Great,” he said, beaming from ear to ear. “I'll pick you up at about a quarter to ten. By the way, wear something warm; the heating in that part of the building has broken down, so the Mess is freezing.”

Megan had to laugh. “Trust you to leave the crucial bit of information until last,” she said. “Now, off you go and let me get on. I'll see you outside the nurses' home.”

Promptly at a quarter to ten she was waiting outside on the pavement, wrapped up to the ears in a huge woolly sweater, jeans and an anorak on top to keep out the biting north-easterly wind. Johnny came running down the hospital perimeter road, vigorously beating his arms round his chest to keep warm. “Race you to the Mess,” he said as he ran past.

Megan joined him, having difficulty in keeping up with his long legs, and they arrived stumbling through the Mess door out of breath and pink in the face.

Susan North, who was already there, greeted them at the doorway shouting through the cacophony of noise, “Gracious, you two look healthy, positively rude with it.”

“You should have joined us,” said Johnny. “The keep-fit duo of the County General.”

Susan laughed. “Since when have you been so keen on keep-fit?” she asked. “I thought the only exercise you got was raising your arm at the bar?”

“That is where you are wrong, my girl,” said Johnny, wagging a finger at her. “There are many hidden facets about my character that have never been revealed. Remind me to tell you about them one day.”

“I will,” laughed Susan, leading the way across to the bar which was festooned with balloons and streamers.

In spite of herself Megan soon began to enjoy the evening. Practically everyone in the hospital who was off duty appeared to be there. They played silly games and generally let their hair down.

“It's a good job this place is well away from patient areas,” remarked Susan to Megan. “Do you remember the old Mess, right opposite Men's Surgical? There were always complaints about the noise then.”

Megan laughed. “Yes, I do remember,” she said, sipping her glass of punch.

“By the way,” said Susan, “I still haven't managed to catch a glimpse of your new consultant, Giles Elliott, yet. How are things going? Are you getting on a little better with him now?”

“Oh, he's all right,” said Megan non-committally, not sure how much she wanted to tell Susan.

“I gather that he has quite a dishy young daughter, so he must be married,” said Susan, eyeing Megan curiously. It was unlike her friend to clam up about anything, but Susan had the feeling that she was not going to get much information about Giles Elliott out of Megan.

“Yes, I've met his daughter,” replied Megan and told Susan of the accident with the motor-cycle and how she came to be involved.

Susan was intrigued. “You and Giles Elliott certainly seem to have a knack for being personally involved in accidents,” she said. “You're not a casualty nurse for nothing! First
you
are his casualty, then his daughter.”

Megan laughed. “It was the first time I've ever needed to go into Casualty as a patient—you make it sound as if I was always there.”

“Ah,” said Susan dreamily, “but it could be the beginning of a beautiful romance. Casualty nurse swept off her feet by Casualty consultant…” She threw out her arms dramatically. “Romance begins after consultant revives Casualty nurse!”

Megan hooted with laughter. “Susan, you are ridiculous! Revived me, indeed! And as for having a romantic ending, forget it.”

“Of course,” said Susan, “I was forgetting there must be his wife. Where is she?”

“His wife is dead,” replied Megan, “but before you go getting any more ridiculous ideas, let me tell you that he seems to be very involved with his wife's sister on the other side of the Atlantic.”

“Oh,” said Susan, her eyes growing bigger with curiosity. “Of course, there might not be anything in that, you know. He might be desperately searching for another mate.”

“And he might not,” said Megan practically. “He certainly doesn't give the impression that he is. Now, come on, let's go over and join Johnny.”

“Honestly, Megan, I just don't understand how you can be so disinterested,” said Susan, following her. “If it was me I'd have found out everything there was to know about him by now.”

“But I'm not you,” pointed out Megan and adroitly changed the subject. However, although she successfully diverted Susan's interest it didn't help her much. She couldn't help wondering and thinking about Giles Elliott and his sister-in-law in Los Angeles. He had given no hint at all about his feelings, other than the fact that they kept in regular touch. She wondered whether or not he might tell her more about himself over the Christmas when they were at her home.

Just after midnight Megan decided she really must go. She was feeling tired anyway and it had been a long day with the extra duty she had done tacked on to her own. Johnny and Susan appeared to be getting along famously, dancing cheek to cheek to a smoochy number being played on the hi-fi.

Megan grabbed Jamie Green as he passed by, laden down with four pints of beer balanced precariously on a small tray. “Will you tell Johnny and Susan that I've gone on because I've got an early start tomorrow?” she asked.

Jamie glanced over in their direction. He grinned. “Sure,” he said, “although somehow I don't think they are going to notice your absence!”

Megan laughed. “I think you're right,” she agreed and made her departure. But as she walked down the hospital road back towards the nurses' home, she suddenly felt a tremendous sense of being alone. Almost everyone at the party had teamed up with someone of the opposite sex, and yet she had no one special in her life. True, she had lots of friends, but there was no one she could run to, no one in whose loving arms she could bury herself. She remembered Giles Elliott's strong, comforting arms that afternoon, holding her when she had been so upset.

Without warning her eyes filled with tears and she brushed a hand across them. How stupid to cry at a memory. Sensible young women like Sister Jones of the casualty department didn't do that!

Chapter Six

At a quarter to ten the telephone in Megan's room rang. It was Giles. “Are you up?” he asked.

“Of course I'm up,” answered Megan. “I've been up for simply ages and I'm all ready.”

“Good,” he replied, “I'll be waiting outside the nurses' home in ten minutes. If we make an early start we can stop for a leisurely lunch on the way down. That is, if you would like to,” he added.

“That would be lovely,” said Megan, half of her wanting to have an intimate lunch with him in some little country pub, the other half warning her that the more time she spent alone with him the more likely she was to go on falling more and more hopelessly in love with him. You must remember he has another life that you know nothing of outside the hospital, she told herself as she staggered into the lift laden down with Christmas packages.

Soon they were speeding through the countryside towards Devon. The threatened snow still hadn't come and only the light sprinkling of the previous fall remained, giving the countryside a frosted sugar-icing effect. It was a beautiful day, freezing cold and crisp. Brilliant sunshine streamed down from a clear blue sky.

“Enjoy the party last night?” asked Giles casually, not looking at Megan.

Startled she turned to look at him. His handsome profile was a mask of indifference, giving nothing away. “How did you know I went to the party?” she asked. “I didn't intend to go. I only made up my mind at the last minute.”

“I rang your room and there was no answer, so I put two and two together,” he answered.

“Well, just make sure your answer is four and not five,” snapped Megan, feeling slightly annoyed.

“I'm usually pretty good at arithmetic,” came the imperturbable reply. “What time did Johnny take you back? Not too late I hope.”

“I'm sorry to have to tell you that your arithmetic is wrong,” answered Megan, settling herself more comfortably into the deep seat in the front of his Mercedes. She left it at that. Damned if I'm going to satisfy his curiosity she thought—serves him right for jumping to conclusions!

Quickly Giles glanced at her, a cold glint of annoyance in his blue eyes. Megan stared back at him defiantly, challenging him to ask her what she meant. However, he didn't and a distinctly frosty silence reigned between them for the next few miles. The atmosphere inside this car isn't much different from that outside, thought Megan wryly, watching the fields and hedges speed by.

“You're quiet,” remarked Giles after about twenty minutes.

“I'm thinking,” answered Megan, which was true. She was thinking about the next two and a half days and how she was going to get through them. His presence was unnerving; the mere fact that she was sitting beside him sent delicious tingles through her, but at the same time warning bells were ringing in her head. Watch out, watch out, they said. He is a man you know very little about… She wondered whether an opportunity would present itself to ask him more about his family and sighed inwardly to herself when she thought about it. At least, she imagined the sigh had been an inward one, but evidently not, for Giles noticed.

“That's a sad sigh,” he said. “Were you thinking about Johnny? I'm sorry you've been landed with me for Christmas. You'd be better off with Johnny, at least he's young and lively.”

Megan stared at him in surprise. “I wasn't thinking of Johnny at all,” she said, “and I didn't give a sad sigh. You are imagining things.”

“Sorry,” said Giles gently, “it's just that you've been so quiet I thought you were missing your young friends from the hospital.”

Angrily Megan shifted in her seat so that she could look at him more easily. “I do wish you wouldn't keep on about me being young. I'm not a young girl, I'm a mature woman. And another thing,” the words came tumbling out angrily as she got into her stride, “I'm not the slightest bit interested in Johnny Cox. He's a friend and always has been, but that is it, nothing more.” She drew her breath in sharply. “So stop treating me as if I'm a recalcitrant teenager, and also stop behaving as if you are Old Father Time!” she added as an afterthought.

Giles threw back his dark head and roared with laughter. “All right, Megan, I'm sorry,” he said. “I asked for that, didn't I? I'll treat you as a mature woman and you can treat me as a…”

“Friend,” interrupted Megan swiftly, afraid of what he might have been going to say.

If Giles was surprised at her speedy interjection he gave no sign of it. He just laughed lightly and said, “It's a deal.”

They were well into the patchwork of the Dorset countryside when he pulled up outside a quiet country pub. It was a long, low, thatched building and the first sight that greeted them as they walked in was a great roaring log fire in an inglenook fireplace at the far end of the ancient beamed room.

“That looks like a cosy place to sit for a pre-luncheon drink,” said Giles, leading the way.

Megan agreed and sat on one of the polished shiny wooden seats beside the fireplace. A large, ancient golden labrador, grey at the muzzle and broad in the beam, lay stretched out in front of the fire.

“I'm afraid you'll have to push him out of the way, Miss,” remarked the landlord, “if you want to get near the fire.”

“I wouldn't dream of pushing him out of the way,” said Megan. “He looks far too comfortable, and anyway it
is
his fireplace!”

The landlord laughed. “Reckon he thinks that too,” he agreed.

Giles brought them both a small dry sherry and they sat together on the wooden seat looking at the menu. Megan tried hard not to notice the closeness of Giles, but try as she might she was very conscious of the pressure of his muscled thigh against hers. She wondered if her proximity had any effect on him, and stole a sideways glance at him from underneath her long brown lashes. No, she had to admit to herself, all he seemed to be interested in was studying the menu and deciding what he was going to have to eat.

Eventually he chose country fare for them. Homemade pâté, followed by squab pie and duchesse potatoes, with half a carafe of light rosé wine to go with the meal.

Giles raised his glass to Megan. “Here's to the next two days,” he said.

Megan raised her glass to his and touched it. “Yes, here's to the next two days, to Christmas.” Then she added the doubt that had been lurking at the back of her mind. “I only hope you won't find it all too boring. We never do anything very exciting.”

Giles smiled at her, the intense blue of his eyes mellowing into a darker hue. “I'm not looking for excitement,” he said, “I'm too old for that.”

Megan laughed and raised a reproachful finger at him. “What did I say, Old Father Time!” she teased.

He gave a wry grin and sipped his wine. “Point taken,” he said. “I'd forgotten our pact already—the old grey matter isn't working too well, evidently.”

Impulsively Megan leaned forward and put her fingers on his lips as he mentioned the word “old” again. “You are
not
old,” she said firmly. “In fact, at the risk of letting such praise go to your head, I'll tell you that one of our pupil nurses thinks you are absolutely dishy, to coin her phrase exactly!”

“You must tell me which one,” murmured Giles gently, taking Megan's hand and pressing it against his lips in a gentle caress.

Megan's heart thumped against her rib cage, like an imprisoned bird trying to escape. The touch of his warm lips sent a golden glow throbbing throughout her being. For a few moments they seemed in a magic world of their own, encircled by the flickering light emitted from the dancing flames of the log fire.

The voice of the landlord broke the moment of enchantment. “Is everything to your liking?” he asked as he cleared some glasses from a nearby table.

“Yes, everything is to our liking,” answered Giles, his blue eyes never leaving Megan's face. Megan lowered her eyes, her long lashes fluttering in charming confusion against her delicate cheekbones. Yes, everything was to her liking too. Suddenly she viewed the prospect of the next two days with something approaching elation.

The meal was delicious, the pâté just right, not too rich, and the squab pie was, as Giles said, “Something out of this world.”

“Although I'm from the West Country, do you know I've never eaten it before,” confessed Megan as she tucked into the delicate fluffed pastry filled with tender pieces of pigeon and apple, subtley flavoured with spice.

“Shame on you,” said Giles with mock severity. “I would have thought you'd have known how to make it.”

“I'm afraid I've not done much cooking,” admitted Megan shamefacedly. “My mother is such a good cook and she always encouraged me to study and not to waste time in the kitchen.”

“Do you think it is a waste of time for a woman to cook?” asked Giles, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh no, I certainly don't,” answered Megan vehemently. “I'd love to have more time to cook, and to have a kitchen of my own, but,” she shrugged her shoulders, “things just haven't worked out that way.”

“You'll get married to some handsome young man soon, I'm sure,” said Giles smoothly, “and have the kitchen of your dreams.”

Megan chose not to answer but took a sip of her wine instead. “I suppose we mustn't take too long over lunch,” she said, looking at her watch. “It gets dark awfully early now, and Mother will worry if we are late.”

“You are right, of course,” answered Giles. “The last thing we want is for your mother to be worrying on Christmas Eve, of all nights.”

By the time they arrived at the tiny hamlet set in the rolling Devon countryside of the Exe estuary it was well and truly dark. Even so, Megan's heart leaped joyfully as each familiar landmark loomed up in the car's headlights out of the darkness; it seemed such a long time since she had been home.

Her mother, Richard and Joanna hobbling in her plaster cast, crowded into the hall to greet them. The old house looked festive, bedecked everywhere with dark green holly encrusted with glistening red berries. A huge Christmas tree stood in one corner of the lounge, decorated with traditional corn dollies and white stars.

Megan exclaimed at the tree. “It's lovely, Mum. I've never seen the tree decorated so beautifully before!”

“You've got Joanna to thank for that,” answered her mother, taking the Christmas packages from Megan and piling them up beneath the branches. “She insisted on buying all those lovely decorations and spent hours tying them on.”

“After she had nearly killed me by dragging me around the plantation near Dartmoor! I think we inspected every tree on the place before she eventually chose this one!” The affectionate look Richard gave Joanna belied the grumbling tone of his voice.

“I don't know what you are grumbling about,” laughed Joanna. “I'm the one in plaster, not you.”

“It doesn't seem to have affected you at all,” remarked Giles.

Joanna kissed her father warmly on the cheek. “No, it hasn't. I'm absolutely fine, Dad, and I just know this is going to be the best Christmas we've had for years and years.” She tugged at his arm. “Come on, I'll show you to your room, if that's all right, Mrs. Jones,” she added.

Megan's mother laughed. “Of course it is, off you go—and for goodness' sake be careful of that leg of yours as you go upstairs.”

Later, as she sat on the bed in Megan's room watching her unpack, she said, “How long have you known Giles Elliott and his daughter?”

“Only since he came to the County General as the new consultant,” said Megan, carefully folding the clothes she was putting away in the chest of drawers.

“You seem to have got very friendly with him in a short space of time,” observed her mother.

“Not
that
friendly, Mother,” said Megan sharply. The last thing she wanted was her mother jumping to conclusions, especially as she was so uncertain about Giles' feelings for her. “Richard seems to have taken a fancy to young Joanna, so you can blame him for landing them on us for this Christmas.”

“I'm not blaming anyone,” said her mother quietly, watching Megan thoughtfully. “I'm very pleased they came. Joanna seems rather lonely and I gather she doesn't see a lot of her father as she is away at school.”

“Well, you know more than I do then,” said Megan, slamming the drawer shut with a finality that matched the tone of her voice. “Giles Elliott and I are really only casual acquaintances through our work, and I haven't had the opportunity, nor would I dream,” she added firmly, “of asking him any personal questions.”

“Quite right,” said her mother, taking the hint and answering equally firmly. “Now, come downstairs and we'll have a cold supper. I've some lovely honey roast ham and some home-made pickles. I take it you will be going to midnight mass as usual?”

“Yes,” said Megan, linking her arm through her mother's, regretting that she had snapped her head off. “You know, I always love the Christmas Eve service. Are you coming?”

“Well, if you don't mind, dear, I think I'll stay at home. My rheumatism has been playing me up lately, and you know how cold that old church is.” She squeezed Megan's arm. “I'll watch the TV in the warm and have some mulled wine and hot mince pies ready for you all when you come in.”

Megan laughed. “Mmmm, mulled wine and hot mince pies, that sounds delicious. Very well then, I shall allow you to miss the service this year!”

In the event only Megan and Giles went to the midnight service. Joanna had said her toes would freeze and drop off from out of her plaster, and Megan had to admit she had a point there. So Richard elected to stay at home and keep his mother and Joanna company.

Giles and Megan walked to the little ancient grey stone church set amid dark, rustling yew trees at the far end of the village near to the sea. Megan had always loved it there because of the ever-present whispering of the trees and the distant sound of the sea on the rocks. No matter how still the air, summer or winter, the rippling sighs of the trees and the muffled roar of the sea could always be heard. As a child she had always fancied they were the voices of the village people from centuries past, friendly voices, comforting, a constant link with the past.