CHAPTER TWO

      ‘DO YOU BELIEVE in broken hearts, Doc?’

      Major Matt Galloway peered at his patient. She was seventy-nine, with fluffy white hair, and sat huddled in her wheelchair, as if life had beaten her down gradually, day after day. Pale, with dark circles under her eyes, she looked as if she needed a damned long sleep.

      Yes, he did believe you could have a broken heart. Physically, there were lots of ways a heart could fail. But literally...? He saw people give up on life after the death of a loved one—die within days, hours or even minutes of a husband, wife or child. He’d thought it might happen to him once, but his body had stubbornly refused to give up. His logical mind had overpowered his heart and told it to suck it up, because he had a job to do. He had to be a father. And his principles had refused to let him leave someone behind who needed him.

      ‘I do,’ he said, but he was not keen to discuss his personal feelings with this patient. At work, he liked to remain professional. ‘It says here on your chart that you have non-specific chest pain. Your ECG was normal, as was your BP. Why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling and when it started?’

      His patient rubbed at her chest. ‘I lost my Alfred three weeks ago. Cancer. After the funeral my chest began to hurt—up here.’ She rubbed at a spot just above her sternum. ‘It won’t go away.’

      ‘And if you had to rate the pain between zero and ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, what would you score it at?’

      ‘A good seven.’

      ‘Does it hurt more when you breathe in? When you take deep breaths?’

      ‘Sometimes. And when I twist in my chair, reach for something, sometimes it can be like someone is stabbing me with a hot pick.’

      It sounded skeletal or muscular to Matt. But they’d taken bloods and he wanted to see what they said before he made a diagnosis. ‘I’d like to examine you, if I may?’

      She smiled at him good-naturedly. ‘Normally I wouldn’t mind if a good-looking man wanted to see more of me, but would you mind if you got a lady doctor to do it?’

      He smiled back, not offended at all. ‘I’ll just get someone. Give me two minutes.’

      He closed the curtain of the cubicle behind him and went looking for a spare doctor. They all looked incredibly busy, hurrying here and there. The only person he could see who was apparently doing nothing, standing by the triage board, checking her mobile phone, was Dr Bailey.

      He’d known today was the day. That she would be returning after maternity leave. He’d known that today they would finally get to meet and his stomach had been a jumbled mess in anticipation. He’d heard so much about her—and not just from Jen. Apparently Dr Bailey was a wonderfully warm doctor—kind, caring, well-liked and respected in the department. But Jen had also said that Bailey was the loneliest person she had ever met. It was why she had befriended her. She’d said that this doctor gave so much of herself to others, including her patients, but always seemed somehow to be so alone. Afraid to reach out and depend on others.

      He’d not known how to interpret that. Matt had never been alone. Raised in a large family of brothers, he had left them to study medicine, then enlisted. He’d had an army family. A whole platoon! And he’d had Jen, and then the news that there would be a little one coming along.

      He’d never been alone until now. Oh, his brothers were always on the phone, and he sometimes heard from old comrades-in-arms, but Jen’s death had isolated him. It was as if her death had quarantined him from others. As if he was contagious. There’d been plenty of visitors to bring him food, and to offer to help with Lily, but something was different. He felt tainted. As if people were afraid to get too close to him in case something happened to them too. Or maybe it was a vibe that he was giving off, making people feel that they couldn’t get too close?

      Jen had adored Dr Bailey. Loved her. He’d lost count of the amount of times his wife had laughed down the phone saying, ‘Oh, you’ll never guess what Brooke said today...’

      He’d not expected the leaking, poo-stained, crying woman he’d met this morning to be the Dr Brooke Bailey. Nor for her to have awoken in him a protective streak when he’d heard her crying at the crèche. He’d empathised with her pain. Remembered how it had felt for him to leave Lily with a relative stranger.

      The sound of her heartbroken sobs had tugged at his heartstrings and made his gut lurch. And that had been before he’d even known who she actually was! And that brief moment when she’d leaned against him, into him, enveloping him in her perfume as he’d guided her out through the crèche door, had made him yearn to wrap his arms around her.

      And then he’d remembered she was a stranger. Someone he didn’t even know. Whom he’d probably never meet again.

      Until he’d found out who she was.

      Now he would have to work with her, keeping her at a safe distance while knowing that the two of them shared a bond—their love for a woman now gone.

      He knew Brooke Bailey had been the most important person in his wife’s life—after him and Lily—and he’d been keen to meet this woman whom he’d felt sure would be intelligent, warm and sociable, just like his wife. A together person. Someone with whom he could also build a bond. No, he’d definitely not expected the woman he’d met this morning. Emotionally wrought and no doubt sleep-deprived too, if Lily’s current behaviour was anything to go by.

      ‘Dr Bailey?’

      He saw her guiltily drop her mobile phone back into her scrubs pocket and look up, her cheeks colouring with a most beautiful shade of rose.

      ‘Major! Sorry, I was just checking everything was okay at the crèche.’

      He could understand that. The first few days he had left his daughter there he had done the same thing. Lily was the most precious thing in the world to him, and to hand her over to strangers had been difficult. It was easier for him now. He’d been doing it for over a month. Not so Dr Bailey. He had to make allowances.

      ‘And is it?’

      She nodded, seeming surprised that he had even asked.

      ‘A patient has requested a female doctor for an examination. Are you free?’

      ‘Yes. I was just looking for you, actually. You wanted me to report in before I discharged my patients.’

      He could hear the reluctant tone in her voice but he dismissed it. It wasn’t a personal thing he’d done, just because she’d been away from work for a while. He’d asked it of all his staff. He needed to know how the people who were on his team worked.

      ‘Okay. I’ll take a look at your findings once we’ve dealt with Mrs Merchant.’

      He led her over to his patient’s cubicle and, once inside, explained her symptoms and the results of her tests so far. Then he stepped back. ‘I’ll step outside.’ And closed the curtain behind him, listening as Dr Bailey conducted her examination. He heard her ask to listen to the patient’s chest, heard her check the range of movement and finally warning Mrs Merchant that she was about to press on the front of her chest...

      ‘Ow! That hurts!’ His patient cried out.

      ‘Here?’

      ‘Yes! Dear Lordy—what do you think is causing that?’

      Dr Bailey let Mrs Merchant fasten her clothing again and invited Matt back in.

      Matt nodded to let her know he’d heard what had happened and to deliver the diagnosis. ‘I think you may have costochondritis.’

      ‘What’s that when it’s at home?’