The Rebel Who Loved Her. Jennifer Taylor
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up a chair, he sat down beside the bed. It was time to concentrate on his patient.
‘Can you tell me what happened, Mrs Rose?’
‘It was so silly, really,’ the old lady replied. ‘I was carrying my washing out to peg it on the line when I tripped over Mog.’
‘Mog? Who’s that, then? Your dog?’
‘No, my cat, of course,’ Edith Rose said sharply, treating him to a frosty glare.
Ewan grimaced. ‘My mistake. Sorry.’ He frowned. ‘But why on earth did you call your cat Mog? I thought moggies were mice.’
‘Hmm, it all depends which part of the country you come from,’ Mrs Rose informed him tartly. ‘Where I come from, young man, a moggy is a cat.’
‘I stand corrected.’ Ewan laughed, pleased to see that there was nothing wrong with her mental faculties. He had a feeling that Mrs Rose wouldn’t appreciate the usual questions used to determine an elderly patient’s mental prowess, such as the date and the name of the current prime minister. He put a tick in the relevant box on the patient’s history and heard the old lady sniff.
‘Convinced you that I’m compos mentis, have I?’
‘Absolutely.’ Ewan put the clipboard down and folded his arms. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your mind, Mrs Rose.’
‘I wish you’d tell that to my son. He seems to think I’m going gaga. No doubt he’ll try to use this as an excuse to put me into a nursing home.’
Ewan frowned when he heard the tremor in the old lady’s voice. ‘I take it that it isn’t what you want?’
‘Certainly not. I’ve lived on my own for almost forty years now since my husband died. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to live with a group of strangers.’
‘There’s no reason why you should have to leave your home because of this accident,’ Ewan assured her. He picked up the tablet computer and showed her the X-ray she’d had done on admission. ‘There’s no sign of a fracture. Granted, your leg is badly bruised and the cut will need dressing to make sure it heals properly, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.’
‘Are you sure?’ Relief washed over the old lady’s face when he nodded. ‘Thank heavens. Geoffrey has been going on and on about me moving into a home and I was sure this would be the excuse he needed to have me admitted.’
Ewan shook his head. ‘No. So long as you feel that you can manage on your own, that’s fine. And even if you do have problems, there’s help available. Your GP should be able to put you in touch with social services and they can assess the level of help you need.’
‘That’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you.’ Edith Rose smiled at him. ‘Thank you, young man. You’ve made an old lady very happy.’
‘Good.’ Ewan laughed as he stood up. ‘I’m just going to phone your GP and let him know what’s happened. As I said, your leg will need dressing so we need to arrange for it to be done at the surgery.’
‘Old flesh doesn’t heal as fast as young does,’ Mrs Rose observed wryly and he grinned.
‘I’m afraid not.’
He went to the desk to make the call, unsurprised to discover that Mrs Rose was registered with Bride’s Bay Surgery. A lot of the people he’d seen since he’d started at Pinscombe General had been registered with the practice, which meant it must be a very busy place to work. He asked to speak to the practice nurse when the receptionist answered, shaking his head when one of the nurses came over to see if he could look at a patient for her.
‘I’m tied up at the moment,’ he began then stopped when a voice came over the line, a voice that was all too familiar.
‘Sister Williams speaking. How may I help you?’
Ewan turned to face the wall, not wanting anything to distract him. The one thing he had never anticipated was that Becky would answer his call. He took a deep breath, deliberately ironing all trace of emotion from his voice. Maybe it did feel as though his head was being whirled around inside a washing machine on the spin cycle but he wasn’t going to let Becky know that.
‘Becky, it’s Ewan MacLeod.’ He gave a short laugh, praying that it sounded less forced to her than it did to him. ‘This is a surprise. Again!’
CHAPTER THREE
‘EWAN!’
Becky felt shock race through her when she recognised Ewan’s voice. It was all she could do to concentrate as he continued in the same teasing tone.
‘Of all the surgeries in all the world … I had no idea you were working there.’
‘I … um … it came as a surprise to me too, actually.’ She finally managed to gather her addled wits, relieved to hear that she sounded almost normal. Maybe it had been a surprise to hear Ewan’s voice but did it really explain why it had sent her into such a spin? She blanked out the thought, not wanting to set off down a route that was guaranteed to lead to more questions. ‘Dad needed a practice nurse for the surgery and asked me if I’d consider taking the job, and I agreed.’
‘Sounds ideal to me. Not only are you able to earn your living but you’re on hand if Millie needs you.’
‘Exactly,’ Becky agreed, wondering how he always managed to hit on the salient point. Ewan possessed the rare ability to cut through all the dross and see the bigger picture. It was something else she had admired about him, she realised, his ability to get to the heart of a matter with so little fuss. Steve had been the exact opposite, sadly. He’d got so caught up in the details that he had often failed to appreciate the real crux of an issue. Whenever that had happened, he had blamed everyone else, too, rather than himself. It was one of the things she had disliked most about him, in fact.
The thought made her feel incredibly guilty. It didn’t seem right that she should compare the two men, especially when she had found her late husband lacking. She hurried on, wanting to get the conversation onto a more solid footing. ‘Anyway, I take it that this isn’t a social call?’
‘No. I have one of your patients with me, a Mrs Edith Rose.’ Ewan was all business as he explained what had happened. ‘The cut on her leg is quite deep and it will need dressing. I was hoping I could arrange for her to be seen at the surgery.’
‘Of course.’ Becky opened the diary, relieved to turn her attention to other matters. Ewan was Ewan and Steve had been Steve; she mustn’t make the mistake of weighing one against the other. ‘I’ll book her in for Wednesday morning at eleven. If the dressing’s only been done today, it would be better not to disturb it, although tell her to contact me if she has any problems, won’t you?’
‘I shall. She’s a feisty old lady, very alert and determined, although she does seem worried that her son may try to use the accident as an excuse to have her admitted to a nursing home.’
‘I see.’ Becky frowned. ‘You don’t believe that’s necessary, obviously.’
‘Definitely not,’ he said firmly. ‘In my opinion, Mrs Rose is more than capable of looking after herself, although perhaps she could do with a bit of help.’
‘Would you like me to have word with her about what social services can offer?’ Becky suggested.
‘Are you a mind reader? That’s exactly what I was going to ask you to do!’
Becky felt her breath catch when she heard him laugh. He really did have the most attractive laugh, she thought, so soft and deep and so very, very sexy. She took a quick breath, forcing some much-needed air into her lungs. ‘Great minds think alike, or so they say?’
‘They certainly do.’
There it was again, that delicious, toe-tingling rumble coming down the line, and Becky’s lungs went into spasm once more. She was