The Surgeon's Family Wish (6 page)

‘Sure,' he said easily. ‘Or tell Aaron. He knows how to get in touch with me if I'm not around. You and he aren't an item are you?'

‘No. Certainly not.'

‘Right, then. So do you fancy coming to have dinner with me? I'm starving.'

‘No, thanks. I have another couple of properties to view.'

It wasn't strictly true. She
had
made arrangements to see two other houses, but not that afternoon. She was refusing because this man was a confident charmer and she'd had her fill of that type. Also, she was beginning to feel a bit guilty. What would Aaron think when he knew she'd been shown round this place after he'd tried to discourage her?

That she had a mind of her own maybe.

* * *

On Monday morning Aaron received a cool greeting from Annabel when they met on the wards and he countered with, ‘I saw you viewing Richard Clements's house yesterday. What did you think of it?'

‘Very nice.'

‘And?'

‘And nothing. I've got others to see in different areas. He was very pleasant—charming, in fact.'

‘Yes. Rick is a nice guy,' he agreed, wishing once again that he'd never mentioned the house next door. The last thing Annabel needed was a seasoned ladies' man like his friend.

But that was only
his
opinion. Maybe she had other ideas and if she had, what had it got to do with him? Yet he was peeved. It was typical of the life he led that he should be fighting shy of any new commitments, while his friend wouldn't hesitate to proposition Annabel within minutes of meeting if the mood took him.

‘It's a wonder he didn't ask you out. Richard doesn't let the grass grow under his feet,' he told her with a facial contortion meant to be a smile.

‘He did,' she said casually, as if she saw nothing strange in it.

He tutted.

‘I might have known.'

Without further comment he led the way to their first patient of the day. Teenager Oliver Thomas was being prepared for his neurosurgery, which would hopefully reduce his convulsions.

Charles Drury had come to join them as he would be in charge of the operation, with Annabel and Mark Lafferty assisting.

When Aaron had suggested the operation to the boy's parents he'd had to warn them that there would be no guarantee of success. Yet they'd still told him to go ahead as the frequency of the convulsions and Oliver's violence towards anyone near him when they occurred was creating a situation that was unbearable for all concerned.

And now it was the day of his operation and his
mother and father would have many anxious hours of waiting ahead of them, which might end with an improvement in Oliver's condition, or the boy being in a worse state than before...

When they stopped at the next bed Aaron said in a low voice, ‘We have ALD here. It's rare, genetic and often incurable, as we all know. The family are devastated, needless to say. I saw young Jack here in my clinic. His GP had sent him to me with severe vomiting, low blood-sugar levels and periods of unconsciousness. We did some tests, discovered that the adrenal glands weren't working properly and diagnosed adrenoleukodystrophy.

‘You'll maybe remember the film
Lorenzo's Oil
where the parents never gave up trying to find a cure for their son who had this same genetic disorder. Eventually they found a combination of oils that lowered the fatty acids in the blood, which is vital in delaying the progression of ALD.

‘The medical profession has never been sure whether it works or not, but the couple in the film were adamant that their son did show some improvement, and though it was many years ago, as far as I know he's still alive.

‘When the illness has been diagnosed in its early stage, a bone-marrow transplant has been an option and I think we should consider it in Jack's case, if we can find a suitable donor. In the meantime, I'm putting my faith in Lorenzo's Oil.'

Charles Drury nodded.

‘We're keeping him under close observation at the moment,' Aaron told them, and with a smile for the boy and a gentle pat on the head, they moved on to the next bed.

Aaron was aware of Annabel's gaze on him and it
was softer than it had been during their earlier greeting. If he couldn't get it right in their private lives, at least they were in tune here at Barnaby's, he thought with spirits lifting.

* * *

As the day took its course Oliver was taken down to Theatre with a last hug for his anxious parents and then the waiting began.

As the surgical team scrubbed up Annabel was tense and totally focused. She'd specialised in paediatric neurological problems, but the decision to operate had been made by Aaron and Charles Drury before she'd come to Barnaby's and the main anxiety was going to rest on their shoulders.

It was a no-choice situation if Oliver was going to have any quality of life, but what they were planning to do was dangerous. If he came through the operation successfully, they would discover in the days that followed if it had been worth taking the risk.

On occasions such as this every other thought was put to one side. In their hands lay a child's life. She knew only too well that there was nothing worse for a doctor to leave at the end of the day knowing that a life they'd tried to save had been lost.

* * *

It was evening. Oliver had come through the operation and was now in the recovery unit, but Aaron's expression was still anxious as he stood beside his bed.

‘So far so good, eh, Annabel?' he said as she pushed a strand of hair back off her brow. ‘I'll want to go and bang my head against the wall if there's no improvement after this.'

‘At least we've tried,' she told him with a tired smile. ‘We've done all we can. Let's hope that nature isn't
going to let us down. What time are you due to go off duty?'

‘Soon, but I want to stay on a bit to make sure that the boy surfaces all right when the anaesthetic wears off. Charles and I were the ones who suggested the surgery to his parents and although they didn't need much persuading, I feel very much responsible. You're off now, are you?'

‘Yes. Mr Drury is still on the premises so I'm not needed any more. I'm going for a meal.'

‘Oh? Who with? Not Richard Clements, I hope.' The question was out before he'd considered how officious it was going to sound.

She sighed.

‘No. If you must know, I'm eating with Mark.'

She was making a big thing out of going for a snack with a colleague after long hours of surgery, but couldn't resist teasing Aaron. What did he take her for? Or had he sized her up already? Guessed that she'd already once been too eager to get close to a man she'd trusted...and where had
that
got her? She'd shed no tears for him, but had cried her heart out for the baby she'd lost.

‘He's old enough to be your father!' Aaron protested.

‘What does that matter if I'm happy in his company?' she replied perversely. ‘I said that we were
eating
together...not
sleeping
! What is the matter with you, Aaron? One moment you're warning me off, keeping me at a distance, and the next you're acting as if
you
were my father.'

As he faced up to the fact that
fatherly
was the last thing he felt toward this doctor, Aaron's mind was in turmoil. He was watching her slowly break out of the drab chrysallis of misery that had encased her when
they'd first met and the effect it was having on him was amazing.

She was the opposite to Eloise in every way and yet he couldn't get her out of his mind. Maybe it was because she wasn't falling over herself to get to him. In the last four years there'd been a few women who'd pursued him and he'd wanted none of it. But Annabel had a sort of take-it-or-leave-it air about her that had him hooked, and if he didn't stop behaving like an interfering busybody the relationship was going to fizzle out before it had even got going.

* * *

‘And so what was it that you and Aaron were discussing so seriously just before we left the hospital?' Mark asked quizzically as they ate the offerings of a nearby burger bar.

‘He was warning me off older men,' she told him laughingly.

‘What? Aaron was warning you about me?' he said, joining in her amusement. ‘The cheek of the guy. Though it doesn't sound like him. The head of Paediatrics keeps himself to himself with regard to
his
private life and rarely interferes in ours. But it would seem that he's out to save
you
from the wolves. Though I feel it's hardly an accurate description of a fifty-year-old bachelor whose boat is the only thing that makes his pulse beat faster. Every spare moment I get I'm down at the coast.'

He was an amiable, unfussy sort of man and she could believe him when he said that sailing filled his life. He was as likely to make a pass at her as volunteer for a mission to Mars.

It was weird. From being manless for months she was now coming into contact with all types of the species.
Richard Clements, the fast worker. Mark, sitting beside her, who was in love with his boat...and Aaron. What kind of man was he? She wished she knew.

On the outside he came over as cool and clever. A loving family man, but wary. What of, she wasn't sure, but if she had to make a guess she would say it was herself.

Why, though, for heaven's sake? She'd done nothing to make him so. He'd met her while she'd been at her lowest ebb, at her least attractive, and devoid of purpose.

She wouldn't have expected him to give her a second glance and she didn't think he had until the other night when he'd invited her to dine at his house. It had been the beginning of her return to normality, but ever since he'd been as prickly as a hedgehog.

* * *

When Aaron left the hospital that night Oliver was conscious and in a stable condition. It was now a case of wait and see. His mother, grey with weariness, had said, ‘It was a terrible decision to have to make, Dr Lewis, but we really had come to the end of our strength and so had Oliver. If it turns out that we were wrong then we'll have to live with it, but at least we tried to give our son a better life and we'll be forever grateful to yourself and the other doctors for helping us towards that.'

He went home feeling unusually emotional and when Lucy met him at the door, ready for bed in her nightdress and clutching the doll he'd brought her back from America, he picked her up and held her close.

It wasn't all that long ago since
he'd
been in the terrible limbo of a parent whose child might die or suffer severe disability, and within the recollection was
Annabel, tired and white-faced yet cool and calm. A rock to hang on to.

Was that why he was fascinated by her? Gratitude? No. It was more than that, much more. The turn of her head, the soft line of her throat, the beautiful hazel eyes. When he'd picked her up the other night he'd seen her for what she really could be, and it had taken his breath away.

But instead of the evening being light-hearted and upbeat it had turned out to be a time of harking back to the past on both their parts, and for his mother's anxious thoughts about the future.

She was here now, smiling across at him as he hugged his daughter to him, and tenderness washed over him. She never did anything but what she thought would benefit Lucy and himself, and if sometimes they saw things in a different light, what did it matter?

He was feeling restless and on edge and knew the feelings weren't going to go away until he'd seen Annabel, though what excuse he could give for calling he didn't know. That was if she was back from her meal with Lafferty.

Lucy was asleep and his mother was dozing beside the fire when he came into the sitting room with his coat on.

‘I'm popping out for half an hour,' he told her, and she nodded drowsily.

* * *

There was a light on in the flat and he thought that at least Annabel was in. What sort of a reception he would get was another matter.

When she saw him standing there Aaron thought she was going to close the door, and he said with a quirky
smile, ‘Am I going to have to put one foot inside like the bailiffs do?'

She stepped back to let him in but wasn't returning the smile.

‘What do you want, Aaron?' she said levelly. ‘Have you come to see if I'm behaving myself with Mark? Were you expecting me to answer the door in a satin nightdress or something? If you were, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I haven't got one. I wear an old T-shirt in bed, which ought to tell you something.'

‘I haven't come to discuss your sleeping habits,' he told her, serious now. ‘I'm here to apologise for what I said earlier this evening about Mark and you.'

‘We went our separate ways at eight o'clock, if you must know,' she told him in the same level tone. ‘He to drool over his boat and I to put the washing-machine on. But do sit down now that you're here. Your wish is granted. You're actually inside the rabbit hutch. If you wish to complain to the authorities on my behalf, feel free to do so.'

He took her hand in his and looked down at the long, capable fingers that could wield a scalpel with such precision. ‘We're not getting anywhere, are we?' he said in a low voice.

Annabel was acutely conscious of his nearness. The clean male smell of him. The physique that made heads turn, the dark searching glance that seemed to see right into her soul. But it didn't, did it? Otherwise he would know that she hadn't enough zest in her to respond to what he was saying.

‘Is that what you want?' she asked weakly. ‘For us to
get somewhere
?'

It was laughable, he thought. He'd been told that he
was seen as a good catch by the female staff at Barnaby's, but not by this one, it would seem.

‘Possibly,' he told her drily. ‘But don't get too excited about the idea. I've been trying to fight it, but I seem to keep coming back for more.'