Twice as Good

CHAPTER TWO

ANY second now, Janet Muir warned herself.

The eye contact between them had all the dreadful inevitability of a slow-motion car crash. You saw the collision coming, knew the impact would be disastrous, but there wasn’t a damned thing you could do to avoid it.

Would Jamie McFadden recognise her? Would he acknowledge the recognition? Would the memory be as overwhelmingly gut-wrenching as that which she was experiencing? Janet could feel the hard plastic handle of the bag she was clutching biting into her collar-bone. She welcomed the physical discomfort. It was something real she could focus on in this developing nightmare.

‘You’re Scottish,’ Oliver observed, with an amused tilt to his mouth.

‘Aye.’ Jamie McFadden acknowledged the obvious with a brief nod. His wavy hair had darkened over the years, Janet noted. It was almost brown now. There were enough blond streaks left to make it catch the sunlight that streamed through the bay window of the waiting room. It was a glorious day outside. This really could not be happening to her.

‘What part are you from?’ Oliver queried.

‘Glasgow,’ Jamie responded. He stepped aside to allow an ambulance officer, burdened with equipment, access to the front door.

‘Really?’ Oliver sounded intrigued. ‘Just like Janet!’

‘Sorry?’ James McFadden’s total lack of comprehension was evident.

‘Janet Muir, our practice nurse.’ Oliver’s hand was coming up, ready to point her out. Jamie was turning even as Oliver finished his sentence. ‘Janet’s from Glasgow, too. Maybe you know each other.’

Janet didn’t even attempt a smile. She knew it would have been a physical impossibility. She didn’t try to speak either. She needed to concentrate on simply drawing breath. The shock in those brown eyes was startling. Janet almost felt sorry for him. She’d had several minutes since she’d recognised his voice. Several long minutes in which to try and prepare herself for this moment. Jamie had been thrown in at the deep end.

Janet’s question about whether he would recognise her had been answered. Her question about the effect of the recognition was also answered. For a split second, James McFadden looked as though he’d been violently assaulted. Stabbed. Or shot. Things didn’t come any more gut-wrenching than that—no matter how quickly the reaction could be shuttered.

But what of the third question? How was he going to react? Would he acknowledge her? Janet waited. Jamie was the one who had stepped—uninvited and unwanted—into her world. It was his call. If he wanted to pretend they’d never met then that was fine by her. In fact, it would be infinitely preferable to … to the warmth in Jamie McFadden’s tone.

‘Janet! I don’t believe it! After all these years!’ Jamie’s hand was stretching towards her. Janet hugged the prickly bag of kitty litter more tightly.

‘Jamie.’ She tried to smile but her lips simply wouldn’t co-operate. Jamie’s hand faltered and then dropped to his side.

‘It was a long time ago,’ he said casually. ‘Maybe you don’t remember the last time we met.’

Janet stared at him. Of course she remembered. How could she possibly forget? Jamie hadn’t been smiling then and his tone had been anything but warm. ‘Thank God you’re not pregnant,’ he’d said coldly. ‘It could never have worked.’

The awkward pause went unnoticed by Oliver as Sophie dashed back inside. ‘Could you grab Mr Collins’s file, please, Janet? We’ll need the test results.’

‘Of course.’ Janet was glad of the task. She deposited her burden on the counter and swiftly located the file. Running outside, she handed it to Sophie. The back door of the ambulance slammed shut and it drove away. Janet sighed with relief. Several bystanders and a couple of afternoon clinic patients were standing outside the medical centre, staring at the ambulance and speculating in hushed conversations about the reason for its presence. The sooner they got back into some semblance of normal routine, the better.

By the time Sandy Smith returned from the staffroom, all evidence of the emergency had gone. Three patients sat, looking subdued, in a tidy waiting room. Janet had arranged the files for the scheduled afternoon appointments, switched the phone back from the answering machine and was returning the calls.

‘Everything’s under control,’ she assured Sandy. ‘Oliver should be ready for his first patient. I’ll be in my room for a while. I’ve got to start making appointments for this week’s recalls and chase up some results. Just call me if you need any help. I don’t have any patients booked until 3 p.m. and they’re just dry ice treatment for warts and some ear syringing.’ She looked more closely at Sandy’s face. ‘Are you OK?’

Sandy nodded. ‘I feel better now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I really thought he was going to die, you know? I’ve never seen a dead person.’ Sandy looked over the counter fearfully, as though she expected another patient to succumb. She relaxed visibly as one old lady smiled at her. ‘Who’s Oliver talking to in the staffroom?’

‘Our new locum,’ Janet answered tersely. She patted the bag of kitty litter still lying on the counter, now with the tins of cat food positioned beside it. ‘Would you like to go and put these away? They’re kind of in the way here.’

‘Sure,’ Sandy agreed as the phone started ringing. ‘In a minute.’ She picked up the receiver. ‘Good afternoon, St David’s Medical Centre. Sandy speaking.’

Janet sighed. She picked up the bag and tins herself. Why should she be intimidated into trying to hide? This was her territory. If anyone should feel uncomfortably unwelcome, it should be James McFadden. She wasn’t the one who’d thrown their relationship away. She wasn’t the one who’d had a fling with her best friend, got her pregnant and then set up house together hundreds of miles away in London. It wasn’t her that …

The laughter coming from the staffroom suggested that Jamie was feeling anything but unwelcome.

‘So you’ve been with St Davids for about four years, then, Oliver?’ Jamie was asking.

‘That’s right. Janet and I started at about the same time.’ Oliver smiled at Janet who nodded her confirmation of the history. She looked away quickly but Jamie hadn’t taken his gaze off Oliver.

‘And Josh has been here for ten?’

‘And Toni,’ Oliver told him. ‘She started out as the receptionist when the practice was very small. She got promoted to practice manager at the same time Janet and I came here.’

‘Ah.’ The syllable was laced with fresh comprehension. ‘You and Janet were together, then.’

Oliver laughed. ‘Not in that sense, mate.’

Janet plonked the tins of cat food onto the bench. She could feel her cheeks reddening again. What was so funny about that inference? And why should Jamie McFadden sound as though he had only expected her to go somewhere with a man in tow? He was the one who hadn’t been satisfied with a single partner.

‘Oliver is married to Sophie,’ she informed Jamie crisply. ‘Our GP registrar.’

‘But only recently, I understand.’ Jamie’s level gaze informed Janet that she’d had plenty of time to go in and out of a relationship with Oliver Spencer before a preferable model had shown up. The gaze was transferred almost instantly but the message had been clearly relayed. Janet winced at the reminder of how easily they’d always been able to communicate. A glance here—a touch there. It had been all that had been necessary to convey a wealth of information. Almost telepathy. Disturbing. Janet’s hand knocked the tin of cat food she had just put down. It rolled into the sink with a loud clatter.

‘And your senior partner, Josh, is now on honeymoon with your practice manager, Toni.’ There had been no discernible break in Jamie’s observations. Janet picked up the tin. Only telepathy could happen that instantly.

Oliver was laughing again. ‘It must be something in the air around here. You’d better watch out, Jamie.’

Both men were looking at Janet who promptly dropped the tin of jellymeat onto her foot and swore effectively. Thoroughly flustered, she muttered a lame excuse and rushed out of the staffroom. Not before she’d heard Jamie chuckle.

‘Not me, Oliver. I’m totally immune, thank God.’

She could hear the two doctors following her down the hallway. ‘This is Josh’s room, Jamie. It’ll be the one you’ll be using for consultations. Have a look around. I’d better see my first patient but I’ll catch up with you again in a few minutes.’

Janet closed the door of the treatment room behind her. She leaned against it, drawing in a deep breath.

Smoothing the skirt of her uniform against her legs, she noticed that her hands were trembling. She took another deep breath and let it out very slowly. Totally immune, was he? What had happened to the great romance between him and Sharlene? Or was he immune because he was happily married? Janet shuddered. Did she really want to find out?

No. Janet sat down at her small desk and reached for the computer printout. She unhooked the wall phone and placed it beside the list of patient names and phone numbers. Mrs Coombs was first. Her blood test had revealed severe anaemia. Oliver wanted her to come in for a series of iron injections and Janet needed to make the first appointment. She picked up the receiver and then replaced it as she heard a knock on her door. Sandy probably required some assistance.

‘Come in,’ Janet called cheerfully. Poor Sandy had already coped with quite enough today. Janet had no intention of letting her know how disturbed she now felt herself.

The door opened and then closed again. But it wasn’t Sandy now standing close to her desk. It was Jamie McFadden.

‘I get the distinct impression you’re not very pleased to see me,’ Jamie stated without preamble. ‘Maybe it would be better if I didn’t stay.’

‘You have to,’ Janet informed him grimly. ‘We’ve already been let down by one locum. This is a very busy practice. Oliver can’t possibly cope by himself and God knows when the agency would be able to come up with another locum.’

‘He’s not by himself. He has his wife working with him.’

‘Sophie’s a GP registrar. She’s due to fly to Wellington tomorrow to sit her written exams. She’ll be away for two days. She’s also pregnant and suffering from severe morning sickness.’

Jamie’s eyebrows lifted sardonically. ‘You’re right. This is a very busy practice.’

Janet ignored the innuendo. ‘Of course, it’s entirely up to you. It is somewhat of a challenge, I agree.’ Her glance accused him of making a habit of running away from difficult situations. The glance was a test, given unconsciously. Did the telepathy still work both ways?

James McFadden’s mouth tightened. Bingo! Janet felt suddenly calmer, as though a measure of control had landed back in her court.

‘I wouldn’t call it a challenge, exactly,’ Jamie said thoughtfully. His gaze held Janet’s firmly. ‘Maybe we could see it as more of an opportunity. What happened between us would have to be considered ancient history by now. Maybe it’s time to forgive and forget.’ Jamie’s smile was conciliatory.

‘Even ancient history can leave a lasting impact on some people,’ Janet said coolly. She could feel her heart pounding. Another opportunity with Jamie McFadden was the last thing she needed. The last thing she could possibly want. ‘It’s only for six weeks,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m sure we can cope.’

‘But do you want to?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Janet fixed Jamie with a determined stare. ‘I have an immense loyalty to this place and to these people. This is my life now, Jamie, and it’s all I have. I’m not going to let some incident from my past create or add to the difficulties we’re already experiencing.’ Janet wished she could stand up to emphasise her determination, but even at her height of five feet seven she would still have to look a long way up to maintain eye contact with James McFadden. ‘St David’s is in desperate need of a locum GP. They’re very difficult to come by at present and we’ve already lost one. I imagine the agency would tell us we’re very lucky to get you.’

The second knock on the door was more urgent than Jamie’s had been. Sandy looked agitated as she poked her head into the room without waiting for a response.

‘Mrs Neville has just jammed her finger in her car door.’ Sandy sounded alarmingly close to tears again. ‘There’s blood all over the place!’

Janet was on her feet instantly. She grabbed a dressings pack from the cupboard above her head without pausing. She brushed past Jamie McFadden. Mrs Neville was standing beside the reception counter. Her eyes were shut tightly and she was moaning loudly. Her uninjured hand gripped the wrist of the other. A mangled fingertip was bleeding freely onto the counter. Janet covered it with a large gauze pad and put her arm around the groaning woman supportively.

‘Come with me, Mrs Neville. Let’s get you sitting down and see what the damage really is.’

Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Jamie still in the treatment room. He had donned surgical gloves, poured some Betadine into a kidney bowl and opened another pack of dressings.

‘Mrs Neville, is it?’ he queried. His smile was professional. Reassuring. ‘I’m Dr McFadden. Sit down here and show me what you’ve done to that poor finger.’ His glance at Janet a minute later was equally professional. ‘Draw up some lignocaine, will you, please, Janet? I think we’ll put a nerve block in while we sort this out.’ He turned back to his patient. ‘It’s pretty painful, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, Doctor,’ Mrs Neville gasped. ‘I can’t bear to look. Have I … have I cut my finger off?’

‘Och, nothing like that,’ Jamie assured her. ‘You’ve squashed the top a bit, that’s all. We might need to remove the nail and put a stitch or two in the back. Nothing we can’t cope with.’ He looked across at Janet as she held an ampoule upside down, sucking the contents out with a needle and syringe. ‘Is it, Janet?’

‘No, Dr McFadden.’ Janet’s tone was calm as she handed him the dose of local anaesthetic. She held out the empty ampoule as well so he could confirm the medication. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with.’

Mrs Neville looked reassured, happily oblivious to the deeper meaning of the exchange. By the time her finger was cleaned up, stitched and dressed, the middle aged patient was clearly smitten with St David’s latest staff member.

‘We’re becoming a regular United Nations here,’ she told him proudly. ‘The last locum was an Indian lady and now we have you. I do love your accent.’

‘You should be used to a bit of a burr.’ Jamie sounded surprised. ‘I understand Janet’s been here for years.’

‘Oh, but that’s different. And your accent is so much stronger!’

Janet dropped the needles and the scalpel Jamie had used to tidy the edges of the wound into the sharps disposal container. Mrs Neville had been enamoured of Oliver ever since she’d started coming to St David’s. Now her allegiance was clearly being transferred without difficulty. She threw a sidelong glance at the object of Mrs Neville’s admiration in time to catch the cheeky, small-boy grin.

Janet closed her eyes for a split second against a wave of despair. That grin! She saw it a dozen times a day on the faces of her sons. She had always loved it and the two little ratbags knew it was the second best way to get around their mother. The best way, of course, were the cuddles and declarations of love. Worked a treat almost every time—especially if accompanied by that cheeky grin. Did she love the facial expression because she loved her sons so much? Or was it because it had subconsciously linked them to the first great love of her life?

Could she cope? How many more links might become obvious over the next six weeks? How many more reminders could she take about how she had once felt about this man? It was hard enough, listening to his voice. Mrs Neville was right. His accent was much stronger than her own. And could she keep the boys a secret? Janet shuddered at even the thought of that problem and turned back into Jamie’s conversation. He was explaining the difference to their patient as he finished easing the finger stall over the dressing.

‘I was born and raised in Glasgow,’ he told Mrs Neville. ‘Janet lived in Edinburgh for her formative years. That’s a much more civilised place.’ Jamie’s tone suggested that civilisation was not necessarily an attribute. ‘Besides, Janet’s been away from her homeland for years. I only arrived last week.’

‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ Mrs Neville asked coyly. ‘Permanently, that is?’

Jamie laughed, a rich sound that caused Janet’s stomach to fold itself into an even tighter knot. ‘I’m only planning on a working holiday, Mrs Neville. I doubt that permanence is something I’ll even consider.’

Huh! Janet flashed him a meaningful glance. No. Permanence wasn’t something that would be high on Jamie McFadden’s agenda. Love them and leave them. Jobs, countries … women. Jamie had caught the glance. His dark brown eyes narrowed slightly as he acknowledged the disparaging line of Janet’s thoughts. She saw a spark of anger then. Whatever challenge he had also interpreted from her glance was going to be risen to.