A Gentle Giant. Caroline Anderson
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‘Oh.’ Suitably chastened, she fell silent for a while, and then her professional curiosity got the better of her. ‘Who are you going to visit?’
‘Elderly woman who’s had a fall and may have a fracture, and a woman who thinks she’s in labour prematurely.’
‘And Trudy.’
‘Aye, and Trudy,’ he said softly—so softly that she wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been watching him.
‘Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted.
A whole series of emotions played across his face, and then he sighed. ‘She’s eight. She got glomerulo-nephritis from a neglected strep throat, and ended up with chronic renal failure. To make matters worse her mother’s disabled. It made Trudy’s dialysis difficult, because Mum can’t drive and they can’t afford a home dialysis unit. She’s missed so much school, and become so exhausted with all the travelling, that they’ve switched her to CAPD—continuous ambulatory peritoneal dialysis. So far she’s doing really well, but every now and then she gets a touch of peritonitis and we all panic for a bit until it settles down.’
‘Isn’t she very young for that? I mean, changing the fluid all the time and so on—does her mother do it for her?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Trudy virtually runs the house, and all her CAPD procedure is handled by her. Her mother’s always there, but I get the feeling Trudy is the one who does the bulk of it. She’s so gutsy, it makes you weep.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh, and flashed her a grin. ‘She’s a great kid, but what she needs is a transplant.’
‘What about one of her family donating a kidney?’ Jamie asked. ‘If it was my child, I wouldn’t hesitate. I assume no one is suitable?’
‘There’s only her mother, and she’s got MS. It makes her a rather unsuitable donor!’
‘Oh, good grief, the poor child!’
‘Mmm. Exactly.’
They travelled in silence for a while, each absorbed in thoughts, and Jamie was able to look at her surroundings. Dusk was falling as they approached a lonely cottage on a tiny, winding track.
He braked to a halt outside the cottage and jumped out. ‘You might as well come in,’ he said briskly, and went inside. She followed him slowly, her legs stiffening up after the long day, and found him crouched on the floor in front of a frail little lady, her tiny wrist lying oddly in his great hand.
Jamie noticed that it had the classic ‘dinner-fork’ appearance of a Colles’ fracture.
‘You’ve done it again, my darling, haven’t you?’ he said softly, one finger lightly brushing the back of her gnarled hand. ‘You’ll have to go to the hospital for an X-ray, and then they’ll set it for you and put it in plaster.’
‘I thought you’d say that, so I packed a bag and arranged for my neighbour to feed the cats. Do I have to go? I hate that place, it’s so noisy. Can’t you set it, Doctor?’
‘Not really, my love. You’d be better off in the hospital, truly. I’ll put a splint on it so it doesn’t hurt you, and then we’ll call the ambulance and they can come and get you.’ He laid her hand gently back in her lap, and stood up, his head bowed to clear the low ceiling. ‘I tell you what, I’ll do a deal with you. You promise not to do this again, and I’ll send you to the cottage hospital instead of Fort William. How’s that?’ he said with a wink, and the woman laughed.
‘I’ll do my best just for you, you handsome devil!’
He gave a cheeky grin. ‘That’s what all the ladies tell me!’
While he went out to the Land Rover for the splint and then phoned the hospital, Jamie introduced herself and admired the patchwork that was sticking out of a basket in the corner.
‘I do them all the time—well, with no television there’s not a lot to keep me out of mischief——’
‘They’ll be here in a minute. That’ll keep you out of mischief for a day or so. Let’s get this splint on.’
Jamie watched as he dealt tenderly with the broken limb. For such a big man he was incredibly gentle, his large hands surprisingly deft. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She was caught staring, of course. He lifted his head and met her eyes and an eyebrow quirked mockingly at her.
‘Never seen a splint put on?’ he ribbed gently, and she flushed.
‘Of course I have!’ she muttered defensively, and he laughed.
‘Of course. There you are, Mrs McKay. All done.’
A few moments later the ambulance arrived to take her to the cottage hospital, and they set off again.
‘Where to now?’
‘Mrs Reeve—baby’s not due until the middle of October, but she’s had a show and the odd twinge. I said I’d look in, and luckily it’s not far away, then it’s back to Trudy.’
A short while later they turned off the main road on to a bumpy farm track, and bounced and jostled along for about a mile before reaching the isolated croft at the end.
‘What a lovely place to live!’ she exclaimed, gazing round at the broad swaths of heather and grass dotted with sheep and bathed with gold by the slanting rays of evening sun.
‘You think so? Of course it’s very pretty in September, but in January it’s quite different. They can be cut off for weeks at a time.’
He was only trying to put her off, she realised, so she ignored his comment.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Only if you promise not to stare,’ he told her, and she blushed again.
‘I wasn’t staring. There was nothing else to look at!’
He grinned. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just not used to being watched all the time. Of course you can come in.’
He led the way, introducing her to Mr Reeve, a tall, solid young man in his late twenties.
‘I expect you’ll want to wash your hands,’ he said to Rob, and the doctor went over to the sink in the corner of the living-room-cum-kitchen, stripped off his coat and scrubbed thoroughly.
The shepherd handed him a towel, and then opened a door. ‘Josie’s in bed,’ he told them, and they followed him out to the back of the little single-storey cottage. ‘Doctor’s here, hen,’ he said gently, and the woman turned her head and smiled sleepily, pushing herself into a sitting position.
‘Sorry, Doctor, I dozed off. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to call you out—it’s probably nothing, but I just felt I ought to check.’
He smiled reassuringly. ‘That’s what I’m here for, Mrs Reeve. Let’s have a look, can I?’
The woman eased back down the bed, and he pulled back the covers and felt her abdomen all over, his huge hands all but covering it.
‘How often are the contractions?’
‘Half an hour or so—nothing very bad, but they were stronger than the others, the practice ones you told me about—oh, there’s one starting!’
He kept his hands still, and then nodded. ‘I’m fairly sure they’re still just the Braxton-Hicks, but if I can just take a look we’ll be sure. What was the show like?’
‘Just a slight pink stain—nothing much, but I didn’t know what to expect.’
‘More than that, probably, but not everybody has one.’ He flipped open his bag, pulled on a pair of gloves and examined her deftly while her husband shifted awkwardly near the door. Jamie smiled at him.
‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it?’ she said quietly.
He