The Doctor, His Daughter And Me. Leonie Knight
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been managed by a rheumatologist from the early stages.’ Tara paused to take a breath. ‘Of course I’ve only known her as a teenager, and she’s been under the care of Liam Taylor for the past two years. She’s had just about every treatment in the book to control her pain and inflammation—non-steroidal anti-inflammatories, Prednisone, Methotrexate, a trial of a DMARD as well as joint injections.’
Ryan had treated many patients with the inflamed and sometimes deformed joints of the chronic rheumatic condition rheumatoid arthritis, but rarely saw children or young adults with the disease. Treatment by surgery was usually kept in reserve for when all else failed. And the bulk of his experience had been with the middle-aged and elderly.
‘Liam’s one of the best adult rheumatologists around.’
‘It was he who suggested she may need a hip replacement in the next year or two.’
‘And you want my opinion?’
‘That’s right.’
Their conversation was interrupted by Ryan’s mobile phone. He answered the call from his receptionist.
‘Sorry, there’s an emergency. A child with what sounds like displaced fractures of tib and fib.’ He looked at his watch and noted his busy afternoon consulting was due to start as well. ‘I’m going to have to go.’
‘Of course.’
‘We’ll talk about Pippa later.’ He paused in the doorway on his way out. ‘I’ll ring you.’
As Ryan strode down the corridor he tried to file thoughts of Tara Fielding deep in the back of his mind so he could focus totally on his work.
‘I’m taking two patient files with me tonight. Also, would you mind checking if we have a referral letter for a nineteen-year-old named Pippa Morgan—and have you typed out the theatre list for tomorrow?’ Ryan glanced at the wall clock behind his receptionist, eager to leave. He’d had an early start and a long day.
Liz extracted a file from the cabinet and leafed through a dozen sheets of paper before she found the letter Ryan had asked for.
‘Here it is. I’d have remembered if I’d scanned it into the computer records because I’d have made a file for her.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll just do you a photocopy.’
The efficient middle-aged woman smiled. She was a Keysdale local, and today was the first time he’d met her, but she’d certainly proved her worth. She seemed to have the ability to think and act one step ahead of him.
‘So you don’t trust me to return it?’
‘I’m sure you have the best of intentions but I know how busy doctors are.’
‘And it might get overlooked?’ He returned her smile.
‘Something like that.’ She handed him the copy of the letter as well as the theatre list, and jotted down the names of the patient files he’d laid on the counter. ‘And there’s one more thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I won’t be a moment,’ she said as she turned and headed for the back room, returning with a loaded plastic carry-bag. ‘You won’t need to think about what to eat this evening. There was so much food left over from the welcome party, and the girls didn’t want to waste it. Someone noticed you rushed off without touching your lunch so they thought you were a worthy recipient.’
Ryan took a quick peek in the bag and noted there was enough food to last for the next week.
‘Thanks, that’s a really kind thought, but I can’t possibly eat all of this.’
‘It’ll only get thrown away, so you might as well take it.’ He took the bag.
‘Okay, thanks, Liz. I’ll see you next week, then.’
When he arrived in the car park he offloaded the food and his gear in the back seat, climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. But instead of firing on the first turn the engine groaned and his state-of-the-art luxury car gave up.
‘Damn, this is the last thing I need,’ he muttered. He tried again with the same result, wondering if his usually reliable car had been interfered with. ‘The last thing I need …’ he muttered again, trying one more time to fire up the engine.
He phoned his roadside call-out service and was given the number of a local auto repair shop. When the mechanic arrived the news was not good.
During Tara’s busy afternoon every patient seemed to take longer than their allotted time, and at the end of her list she was running nearly an hour late. It was well past five o’clock. If she was running too late her parents worried. She understood why. The accident had fuelled what had become their almost obsessive concern about the safety of their only child, their precious, perfect, beautiful daughter—but it didn’t make her life any easier. No matter how many times she’d tried to persuade them she was capable of looking after herself they still waited up for her when she had the occasional date or night out with her friends. And she had to tell them where she was going, especially if she was driving on her own.
Right now she had to live with it. Tara owed her parents big-time and she didn’t want to cause them any more stress than they already had.
She packed her things in readiness to leave and headed to Reception. When she was barely out of her room Ryan burst through the outside door as if he was being pursued by a pack of rabid dogs. He’d certainly found a novel way of attracting attention.
‘Is there a taxi service in this town?’ he said in a voice laced with frustration and impatience.
Tara wheeled slowly closer, but Ryan hadn’t noticed her and went on without waiting for a reply.
‘My car won’t start. There’s something wrong with the ignition system and it needs to be towed to the local garage to be repaired—’
‘I’ve got some jump leads in my car if that’s any help,’ Jenny offered.
Ryan sighed. ‘I wish … Apparently the computer and security system is so complicated you need an auto electrician to reset and reconnect it, even if it’s simply a flat battery. Which won’t happen until tomorrow.’
Some of the edginess had gone from Ryan’s voice and he looked worn out. He’d obviously had a busy day and it appeared it wasn’t going to get any better.
Tara was at the counter now.
‘I’m just leaving and can drop you off. Taxis here are notoriously unreliable unless you make an advance booking. Where are you staying?’
Ryan looked stunned, as if Tara was the last person he’d expected to see, let alone offer a simple solution to his predicament.
‘Ahh …’
Three sets of eyes were fixed on him, waiting for a reply, and Tara began to wonder if her offer was a mistake.
‘You could help me with my chair.’ Tara was the one to break the uncomfortable silence.
‘I’m at the Riverside. I could probably walk, but I have a lot of gear to transport.’ He hesitated. ‘And it would just be for tonight. A hire car is being delivered to the motel in a couple of hours.’ His expression softened. ‘Thanks, Dr Fielding.’
When they reached her car Tara couldn’t help noticing Ryan’s gaze drift to her legs and then to the hand controls of the car. Suddenly she felt she had something to prove to Ryan—that she could manage perfectly without him. She didn’t want pity, or sympathy, or even admiration. She just wanted her ex-husband to accept her for who she was.
‘What do I need to do to get your chair into the car?’ he said, after he’d moved a couple of plastic crates, his medical case and two supermarket carry-bags from the boot of his now useless car to the back seat of her vehicle.
Good. The practicality of the transfer from chair to car was the perfect diversion from thoughts