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The Doctor's Christmas Gift
Jennifer Taylor
Love and family have never been in Dr. Catherine Lewis's career plan.But by working with Dr. Matt Fielding in his practice by day and playing with him and his two beautiful daughters by night, Catherine experiences everything she'd thought she never wanted. Until, as Christmas approaches, she is torn between choosing the independent life she'd planned – or taking the risk of a lifetime in Matt's loving arms…



“Why do you do that, Catherine? What are you afraid of?”
“I’ve no idea what you mean.” She took another step but he still didn’t move aside.
“So it isn’t a conscious reaction, then? You don’t deliberately pull up the drawbridge every time you feel someone is getting too close for comfort?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Matt. I was never any good at solving riddles.” She brushed past him and opened the front door. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night, Catherine.”
He didn’t try to detain her any longer.
Catherine got into her car, trying to ignore the empty ache inside her, the feeling that she had turned her back on something very special. Matt was just a colleague and he would never be any more than that.
She knew it was true, yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t convince herself she had done the right thing by walking away from him. Part of her wished she’d stayed.
Dear Reader (#ulink_c7435d4b-2ead-5575-8b7b-033922b458db),
Christmas is always a busy time and most of us spend ages searching for the perfect gift for those we love. Jewelry, socks, ties—the list is endless. Yet I don’t think anyone, other than the hero in this story, could find a more wonderful present for the woman he loves.
Catherine Lewis is a woman who knows exactly what she wants from life, and a husband and family don’t play any part in her dreams for the future. She has devoted herself to her career in medicine and has no intention of being sidetracked when she meets Matthew Fielding and his adorable children. Can Matthew make her understand that she can have so much more than just her career if she will accept his gift?
A happy and peaceful Christmas to you all.
Jennifer
www.jennifer-taylor.com (http://www.jennifer-taylor.com)

The Doctor’s Christmas Gift
Jennifer Taylor


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
Cover (#u3d71ea92-3034-52a6-90c9-3e2d0623c013)
Dear Reader (#ulink_cd0c7b11-4cf3-5e97-9c35-5b3efe1ebdff)
Title Page (#u239d49de-f836-56bd-b516-e6158f88045d)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_01c6d1af-76c6-58ac-88c2-dcb36431518e)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_b91b2301-96db-54c5-a699-ace7d2f714e8)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_033a0acf-b0e7-53d1-836f-d842403144d0)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_bd1d3e7a-6d42-540f-96a1-58f7e89b8206)
‘DR FIELDING shouldn’t be long now. He’s running late tonight…again! I was just on my way home but if you’d like to wait in here then I’ll tell him you’ve arrived.’
‘Thank you.’
Catherine Lewis looked around the room as the receptionist hurried away. It was quite a pleasant room, she decided, taking stock. Brookdale Surgery was sited in one of the old Victorian terraces that overlooked the park and the room had a typically spacious feel with its high ceiling and generous proportions.
There were chairs lined up against the walls and a table in the centre stacked with magazines. A poinsettia in a glazed earthenware pot made a splash of colour against its polished surface. It looked exactly like the waiting room in a lot of GP’s surgeries, in fact—a little untidy and slightly the worse for wear. When she opened her own surgery, she would make sure the waiting room looked much better than this.
Catherine walked to the window and looked out but there wasn’t much to see. It was the middle of October and dark outside. Pushing back the cuff of her suit jacket, she checked the time. Six forty-two. Her interview had been scheduled for six-thirty and although she had no other engagements that evening it was annoying to be kept waiting. She was always punctual both in her professional and her private life. To her mind, it was not only bad manners to keep people waiting but a sign of inefficiency. Recalling what the receptionist had said, it appeared that punctuality wasn’t one of Dr Fielding’s strong points. It made her wonder how they would get on.
‘Dr Lewis. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.’
Catherine swung round when she heard the man’s voice. Her eyes were dazzled by the lights in the room so that she couldn’t see him clearly. She had a fleeting impression of height and breadth of shoulder as he came towards her. He stopped and held out his hand, his face breaking into a warm smile which immediately made her want to smile back. She was so surprised that she found herself giving in to the impulse.
‘I’m Matthew Fielding. We spoke on the phone the other day.’
His fingers felt warm and slightly rough against the smoothness of hers. Catherine let her hand remain in his for a moment longer than politeness dictated before she realised what she was doing. She quickly withdrew her hand, curbing the urge to run it down her skirt to remove the slight tingling sensation. She cleared her throat, not sure she enjoyed the fact that she could still feel the impression Matthew Fielding’s fingers had left on hers.
‘I’m delighted to meet you, Dr Fielding.’ She smoothed her face into a suitable expression, pleased that she had managed to control the inane smile at last. She didn’t feel nervous but maybe she was. After all, this job was another step in the right direction, another rung to be climbed on the ladder towards her goal.
The thought helped her focus on what was really important rather than the strange way she seemed to be behaving that night. She had made her plans a long time ago and not once had she veered from the route she had chosen—A levels, med school, experience in a variety of suitable general practices before she opened her own surgery. Now all she needed was a year here at Brookdale Surgery, a practice in an increasingly popular area of the city, then she would be ready to start looking for suitable premises…
‘So I’d really love a cup of coffee—wouldn’t you?’
Catherine jumped when she realised that she’d missed what Matthew Fielding had said. A little colour touched her cheeks at the lapse. She prided herself on always being focused and it wasn’t like her to let her mind wander.
‘I…um…coffee would be nice,’ she said, hoping that she had guessed correctly what he’d been saying. It seemed that she had because he smiled at her once more. He really did have the most wonderful smile, she thought. It was so warm and friendly that it must make people long to confide in him.
Catherine took a quick breath when she realised her thoughts were wandering again. It was a relief when Matthew turned to lead the way out of the room. She kept her eyes locked on his back as she followed him into the corridor, hoping it would help if she concentrated on something tangible. She must be nervous. It was the only explanation that made any sense.
He had to be well over six feet tall, she decided, her gaze sweeping up the solid length of his muscular back. He moved with the easy grace of a trained athlete, his long legs striding purposefully along the corridor so that she had to quicken her pace to keep up. Her brown eyes skimmed over the neat hips and trim waist, the wide shoulders, before moving up to his well-shaped head.
His hair was a rich, sandyblond colour, very thick and crisp-looking. He wore it cut very short, probably because it had a tendency to curl if he allowed it to grow any longer. Catherine sighed wistfully as she thought how typical it was that a man should be blessed with that kind of hair. Her own hair was so straight that she’d long since given up any hope of making it curl. Now she rarely bothered to do anything different with it, preferring to wear it the way she wore it that night—neatly coiled into a heavy, nut-brown knot at the nape of her neck.
Someone—a man who had hoped to become rather more than a friend—had told her once that she should let her hair down both physically and metaphorically speaking. However, it was a piece of advice she had never heeded. She preferred to keep all aspects of her life strictly under control.
‘I hope you don’t mind if we use the kitchen.’ Matthew Fielding paused and looked back at her, a hint of amusement making his blue eyes sparkle. ‘I know it isn’t usual to conduct an interview around the kitchen table but I haven’t eaten all day. I’m sure you would prefer not to have to give a practical demonstration of your skills, Catherine, if I passed out from lack of sustenance!’
Catherine felt a frisson run under her skin when he addressed her by her first name. It was odd how disturbing it was to have him call her that, as though they had crossed some unseen boundary. She gave a small shrug, not wanting him to guess there was anything wrong.
‘Wherever is most convenient for you, Dr Fielding. I really don’t mind.’
‘Make that Matthew. Or better still, Matt. That’s what most people call me, or at least those I class as friends.’ He opened the door then stepped back to let her precede him.
Catherine smiled politely as she went into the room although she took care neither to agree nor disagree with his suggestion. She had no qualms about calling him Matthew once their relationship was established, but as for using the diminutive…
She shivered, wondering why the thought of being classed as one of his friends bothered her so much. She had a wide circle of friends, all of them people like her who understood exactly what constituted friendship. They followed the rules and accepted there were limits to what a friend could be called upon to do. There should be no exchanges of confidences, no unannounced visits, no demands other than the brief sharing of time at various social events. That Matthew Fielding would view friendship as something entirely different went without question although Catherine had no idea how she could possibly have known that.
It was yet another niggling little worry, another uncertainty, and her mouth pursed. How did she know that Matthew Fielding would expect a lot more from someone he classed as his friend?
‘Sugar? Milk?’ Matthew had plugged in the kettle and was now taking mugs out of a cupboard. Catherine forced her mind back on track again. Maybe this was a rather strange place to hold an interview but she mustn’t allow it to upset her.
‘Just milk please,’ she replied evenly, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the big pine table. She glanced round the kitchen and realised immediately that it wasn’t just somewhere the staff made themselves a drink during the day. It was a real family kitchen, from the bright yellow Aga to the childish drawings fixed to the refrigerator door by a selection of colourful magnets. She frowned uncertainly, wondering what the arrangements were within the practice.
‘I live here in the main part of the house. There’s just the kitchen on the ground floor, though, because the rest of the space is needed for the surgery,’ Matthew informed her. He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of milk. He splashed some into a mug then brought it over to the table for her.
‘Thank you.’ Catherine smiled politely but she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t surprised by what she’d learned. She hadn’t realised that the surgery was essentially part of Matthew’s home although she had no idea what difference it made.
‘You’re welcome.’
Once again she was treated to one of those wonderful smiles before he went back to the refrigerator and dug around inside it for a moment. He had a head of lettuce and a couple of tomatoes in his hands this time when he slammed the door.
‘As I was saying, the main part of the house is also my home, which makes it very handy for getting to work of a morning. No such thing as traffic jams to contend with…well, not vehicular ones, anyway.’
He grinned as he plonked the lettuce on a chopping board and set to work. Catherine watched as he expertly shredded it then set about slicing the tomatoes. It was obvious that he was used to doing such tasks because his hands never faltered when he carried on speaking.
‘When Glenda and I decided to open the practice we realised that one of us would have to live over the shop so to speak. It was a question of economics. Property in the city is horrendously expensive, as you know, so there was no way that we could afford to buy or even lease suitable premises.’
‘I see. So you decided to combine the two and make your home here?’
‘That’s right. I was married by then and Ruth, my wife, was expecting our first child. The plan was that we would live here until the practice got on its feet and then we would move out of the city. However, after Ruth died it made more sense to continue living here. It means that I don’t have to waste time travelling to and from work and can be home with the children as soon as I finish.’ He put down his knife and went back to the fridge.
Catherine frowned as she tried to absorb what he had told her. She’d had no idea that Matthew Fielding was a widower although there was no reason why she should have known, of course. His domestic arrangements had little to do with her except where they overlapped into his work. She waited until he had found what he needed in the fridge, which turned out to be a bowl of large brown eggs this time, before she set about clarifying the situation.
‘And Glenda—who I assume is your partner in the practice—is quite happy with the arrangement?’
‘Oh, yes. And, yes, again, Glenda is indeed my partner. Sorry. I should have explained that at the beginning.’ He grinned at her. ‘Just because I know so much about you, it doesn’t mean that you know anything about me, or this practice for that matter. Feel free to fire away and ask me anything you want.’
Catherine smiled coolly but it was just a cover for the fact that she couldn’t think of a single question to ask him at that moment. Maybe it was because the interview wasn’t following the usual pattern which had thrown her off course, she reasoned. Whenever she had been interviewed in the past there had been all the usual questions about her educational achievements, her experience and future plans, but Matthew Fielding hadn’t touched on any of those points so far.
All of a sudden, she found herself willing him to get back on track. Silly though it sounded, but she knew it would be easier to cope if she was on familiar ground. However, it seemed that he had no intention of fitting in with her preconceived ideas about how to conduct an interview.
‘Don’t tell me you’re too shy to ask me any questions, Catherine.’ He looked expectantly at her and she was mortified to feel herself blushing.
Matthew shook his head, a rueful expression crossing his face. ‘Me and my big mouth, eh? Of course you’re shy. You only met me five minutes ago and you’re probably on your best behaviour and don’t want to appear pushy. It’s a long time since I went for an interview so you’ll have to forgive me.’
‘I…um…There’s nothing to forgive.’
The situation was rapidly deteriorating and Catherine knew that she had to do something before it got any worse. Matthew had made her sound like some delicate little soul who was afraid to say boo to the proverbial goose rather than a mature woman of thirty-two who was more than capable of running her own life! She sat up straighter, a touch of hauteur about the look she gave him.
‘I assure you that I am not shy, Dr Fielding. However, you were right to say that I know very little about this practice apart from what you told me over the phone.’
She took a deep breath, pleased to hear how composed she sounded. It gave her the confidence to continue although she would have preferred it if Matthew had sat down rather than carried on with what he was doing. Her tone sharpened as she watched him breaking eggs into a bowl.
‘So Glenda is Dr Williams, and there are just the two of you in practice here at Brookdale Surgery?’
‘That’s right.’ He picked up a fork and began beating the eggs. ‘We have been toying with the idea of finding a third partner as the practice is expanding so fast. You may have heard that this area is becoming one of the most sought-after in London.’
His tone was dry when he said that and Catherine frowned. It hadn’t sounded as though the idea pleased him although surely it should? A thriving population would bring many rewards to the practice. With more patients on his list, Matthew could apply for extra funding. He could even take on private patients if he wanted to because there were always people willing to pay if it meant they could avoid the NHS queues. It was all very puzzling but she decided that it might be best not to question him. It really wasn’t her business how he felt.
‘So I believe. However, the job you advertised wasn’t for a third partner,’ she stated coolly.
‘No. We’ve put that idea on hold for now. We have a far more pressing problem to deal with at the moment.’
He opened a cupboard and took out a heavy iron pan. Setting it on the Aga, he scooped a knob of butter from the dish and dropped it into the pan. As soon as it began to sizzle he added the egg mixture to the pan then turned to look at her.
‘Glenda has just found out that she’s pregnant. Naturally, she’s thrilled because she and her husband have been trying for a baby for ages. However, she’s had a couple of miscarriages in the past so her obstetrician has advised her that she should stop work immediately to give herself the best chance possible of carrying this baby to term.
‘I’ve arranged locum cover to tide us over for a few weeks but Glenda and I both agreed that we need something more permanent. And that’s where you come in, Catherine.’
Once again she felt that ripple under her skin when he called her by her first name. Catherine steadfastly ignored it, choosing instead to concentrate on the professional aspects of this strange interview, although it wasn’t easy in the circumstances. Holding an interview in a kitchen really wasn’t her idea of how things should be done.
Matthew had returned his attention to his cooking and was now lifting the omelette from the pan. He smiled at her, one sandy brow rising a fraction. ‘If you want half, just say the word.’
She shook her head, wishing he would concentrate on what they were there for. Silly though it sounded, the sooner this was over the happier she would feel. There was something a little too familiar about the thought of them sitting around the kitchen table sharing a meal. It troubled her. ‘Thank you but I’ve already eaten.’
It wasn’t a lie because she’d had a cup of coffee and a sandwich on her way there that night. There hadn’t been time for anything more substantial after she’d finished the early evening surgery which she had been rostered for that day. However, she couldn’t stop her stomach from suddenly rumbling when her nostrils caught the tantalising aroma which wafted across the kitchen.
Matthew laughed as he took a second plate off the shelf and deftly slid half the omelette onto it. ‘Stop being so polite! Here you go.’
Before Catherine could protest he had put the plate in front of her and gone to fetch another set of cutlery. He sat down, offering her the bowl of salad so that she had no option but to take some.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly, cutting a sliver off the omelette and popping it into her mouth. It tasted wonderful, she realised. Light and fluffy and a world better than her own miserable efforts.
‘You’re welcome.’ Matthew tucked into his meal with unselfconscious relish. He forked a mouthful of salad into his mouth and quickly chewed it. ‘Anyway, I’ve read your references and everything, and there’s no problem there. You’re more than qualified for this post from what I’ve seen so far.’
‘But?’ Catherine paused in the act of popping another sliver of omelette into her mouth when she caught the reservation in his voice.
‘Not really a but.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘I just find it odd that someone with your talent hasn’t found a permanent position. You’ve worked in…what? Five different practices since you qualified?’
‘Six, actually, if you count where I did my GP rotation.’
She pushed the plate away, wanting to concentrate on the reason why she was there rather than allowing herself to be sidetracked. ‘I suppose it does seem strange from your point of view, but I assure you that the reason I haven’t taken a permanent post isn’t because of a lack of offers. On the contrary, every practice I have worked for so far has offered me a job, including my present employer.’
‘But that isn’t what you want? Why not?’
He tipped back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. Catherine realised with a little start of surprise that beneath the easygoing manner lay a very astute mind. Matthew Fielding wasn’t a man who would allow anyone to pull the wool over his eyes, but as she had no intention of doing that, it wasn’t a problem.
‘Because I don’t want to work for someone else. My intention has always been to set up my own practice.’ She shrugged but her brown eyes were steady when they met his. ‘That’s why I only ever accept jobs which will further my experience and why I never stay in them longer than a year. Each post I’ve had has been simply a stepping-stone towards my ultimate goal.’
‘And working here at Brookdale Surgery will be another of those stepping-stones? Is that what you are saying?’
He sounded amused by the idea and Catherine smiled although she didn’t share his amusement. Didn’t he realise how serious she was about this and how much time and effort she had put into bringing her plans to fruition?
‘Yes. That’s right. The experience I gain here will be invaluable when I open my own practice,’ she explained calmly.
‘And what if I offered you a permanent post once your contract is up? Is there anything that would make you change your mind—the offer of a partnership, for instance?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I know exactly what I want, Dr Fielding, and there is no way that I would give up everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.’
‘Then you are a very unusual woman, Catherine. Even more unusual if you can stick to your plans.’
His smile was so wry that it made Catherine wonder what was behind it before she cut short that thought. She wasn’t interested in Matthew as a man but as someone she would be working with. What may or may not have coloured his life in the past didn’t concern her, just as her past didn’t concern him. They would keep things on a strictly business footing…
‘Daddy, you pwomised you’d read me a storwy tonight.’
Catherine looked round when she heard a childish voice and saw a little girl standing in the doorway. She gave Catherine a shy smile as she came into the room and went to stand beside Matthew’s chair. She looked very like Matthew with her tumble of sandy blonde curls and deep blue eyes. She was obviously ready for bed, dressed in cosy towelling pyjamas with a ragged old teddy bear clutched in one hand and a well-thumbed book in the other. She gave Catherine a considering look as Matthew put his arm around her.
‘I’m Hannah. Who are you?’
‘Catherine Lewis.’ Catherine smiled although she felt a bit out of her depth. She wasn’t used to children except in a professional capacity and wasn’t sure what else she should say. However, Hannah had none of her inhibitions, it appeared.
Hannah held out the book she was holding. ‘This is my favourite book. Daddy said that he would read it to me but you can do it if he’s too busy.’
‘Oh…I…um…’ Catherine struggled to find an appropriate reply and was saved from having to think one up by Matthew’s laughter.
‘Oh, no, you don’t, you little horror!’ He wrapped his arms around the child and hugged her. ‘I know what you’re up to. Trying to trick poor Catherine into spending the next hour reading to you. You know what the punishment is for that sort of skulduggery!’
‘No…Ooh!’ Hannah squealed with gleeful laughter when Matthew buzzed her cheek with his chin. ‘You’re all pwickly, Daddy!’
‘That’s because I need a shave.’ He swept the child into his arms and stood up. Hannah wound her arms around his neck and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.
‘I don’t really mind if you’re all pwickly. I love you anyway.’
It was said with typical childish simplicity yet Catherine felt her eyes fill with sudden tears. She stood up abruptly, using the few seconds it took to push back her chair to gather her composure. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so touched to hear Hannah say that. Maybe it was because there was no one in the world who would say the same to her.
The thought was oddly disquieting but, then, the whole evening had been unsettling. All of a sudden, she found herself wondering if this really was the right job for her. Oh, the surgery was located in the perfect area and the experience she would gain here would be invaluable, but what would be the cost to her personally of working here?
It was another unanswerable question, another uncertainty, and she didn’t deal in uncertainties. Her life was structured, planned, assured. That was the way she liked it and how she intended it to continue. She was just debating how to tell Matthew that she wouldn’t be taking the job when a woman appeared.
‘There you are, Hannah! I wondered where you’d got to.’ She turned to Matthew with a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I was trying to keep her out of your way because I knew you were busy but she managed to sneak out while I was helping Becky with her homework!’
Matthew laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mum. At least I managed to head her off when she tried to con poor Catherine into reading her a bedtime story.’
The woman turned to Catherine with a chuckle. ‘A lucky escape, my dear. You’d have ended up staying the night if you’d fallen for that ploy. With Hannah one story tends to lead to another ad infinitum!’
Mrs Fielding rolled her eyes. She was very like Matthew, with greying sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had the same wonderfully warm smile and once again Catherine found herself responding to it.
‘Obviously a lucky escape,’ she replied lightly.
‘Oh, don’t get overly confident.’ Matthew’s expression was wry as he set Hannah on her feet. ‘This little madam has her ways and means of getting what she wants. So be warned, Catherine. If you’re ever working late of an evening and an angelic little face peeps round the door, watch out. She’s after your story-telling prowess!’
He seemed to have taken it for granted that she would be accepting the job. Catherine’s heart sank when she realised how difficult it was going to be to explain that she was no longer interested in it. She certainly didn’t want to go into the whys and wherefores when she wasn’t sure that she could give him an acceptable explanation for turning it down.
She decided to tell him simply that she had changed her mind and leave it at that. After all, she didn’t owe Matthew Fielding an explanation because it was up to her what she did.
After Mrs Fielding had led a reluctant Hannah away, Catherine saw her chance. ‘Dr Fielding, I—’
‘Haven’t I told you to make it Matt?’ He gave a small shake of his head. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony around here, Catherine, as you’ll soon discover—’
He broke off when the telephone rang. Catherine could see that his attention had been distracted but she simply couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. She steeled herself as she said his name for the first time yet it seemed to flow off her tongue with surprising ease.
‘Matt, I’m afraid I—’
‘Matthew! It’s for you, darling.’
Mrs Fielding’s voice carried clearly along the corridor and Matt sighed as he headed for the door. ‘No rest for the wicked. Sorry, Catherine. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
He disappeared before she could say anything and she heard him hurrying along the passage. She looked round uncertainly, sighing when she saw the half-eaten meal on the table. Poor Matthew seemed doomed to go hungry.
She cut off that thought because it really wasn’t relevant. Whether or not Matthew Fielding ate wasn’t her concern. She went to the door but the corridor was empty. She could hear Matthew’s voice coming from the surgery and decided to head that way. It would be easier to tell him that she wasn’t going to take the job in the surgery rather than in his kitchen because it would help to put things back on a professional footing. All this chatting over omelettes and coffee didn’t do anyone any good!
‘Glenda? Hi, it’s Matt. Sorry to bother you but I’ve just had David Marshall’s carer on the phone. How was he when you saw him last week?’
Catherine paused when she realised that Matthew must have finished his incoming call and was now making one of his own. She didn’t like to interrupt him when it had something to do with a patient. She waited for him to finish, mentally rehearsing what she would say. He was bound to want to know why she didn’t want the job but she would just stick to her guns and refuse to discuss her reasons…
‘Catherine Lewis…that’s right, the one I told you about who had all those wonderful references.’
Catherine hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help listening when she heard her name mentioned. She smiled when she heard the remark about her references. She was a good doctor and there was no disputing that.
‘How would I sum her up? Well, professionally there’s no doubt that she is absolutely first rate and will be able to handle this job without any trouble at all. As for personally…’ He paused and his tone was reflective when he continued. ‘I suppose the word that springs to mind is vulnerable. Catherine Lewis strikes me as a very vulnerable woman indeed.’
Catherine didn’t hear what else he said. She had stopped listening because her mind had seized on that word and wouldn’t move forward or back. Vulnerable. Was that how Matthew Fielding saw her? Was it true? An hour ago she would have laughed off the suggestion but she couldn’t laugh it off now.
‘Oh, hi. I’m afraid I have to go out on a call. One of our long-term sick patients has taken a turn for the worse. We use an on-call service after hours normally but this case is a bit different. Motor neurone disease is one of those illnesses you pray someone will find a cure for.’
Matthew was shrugging on his jacket as he came out of the office. He called along the corridor to tell his mother that he was going out then headed towards the front door, obviously expecting Catherine to follow him.
She took a deep breath but her legs felt more than a little shaky as she trailed after him, her mind even more so. It was hard to behave naturally as she followed him out to the car park.
Fortunately, Matthew didn’t appear to notice her abstraction as he stopped beside a battered-looking saloon and unlocked the door. ‘Right, I’ll expect you on the first of November, then. You said that you’d be free to start then, I believe. I’ll pop all the paperwork in the post for you to sign.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t get much chance to talk. If you have any questions then just give me a call—after surgery is usually best. Anyway, thanks for coming tonight, Catherine. I’m looking forward to us working together.’
He got into the car and started the engine. Catherine watched in silence as he drove away. She knew she should have told him that she wouldn’t be taking the job but she’d felt incapable of doing that or anything else.
She got into her car then sat staring through the windscreen instead of making any attempt to start the engine. Vulnerable. It was such an insignificant word to have scared her the way it had. It was as though everything she had worked so hard to achieve meant nothing all of a sudden. Matthew Fielding saw her not as the capable, competent woman she had striven so hard to be but as vulnerable. She didn’t want to be like that. She wouldn’t accept that she was!
Catherine started the engine and drove out of the surgery. She would prove to him, but, more importantly, she would prove to herself, that he was wrong.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_8717f7bb-9455-52e8-a7aa-4468e820c771)
VULNERABLE.
On the surface, it wasn’t a word that should have applied to the woman seated in front of Catherine’s desk. However, it had been on her mind so much in the past weeks that she wasn’t surprised when it occurred to her now.
It was the Wednesday of her first week at Brookdale Surgery and she was halfway through morning surgery. Maybe it had been silly to have let Matthew Fielding’s comment spur her into taking the job but so far it seemed to be working out extremely well. She had slotted into the new post with surprisingly little trouble. Of course, the fact that the staff at the surgery had been so welcoming had helped enormously. Everyone, from Ann Talbot, their practice nurse, to the two receptionists, Margaret Price and Sharon Goody, had gone out of their way to help her settle in.
As for Matthew, well, he had been nothing less than professional in his dealings with her these past few days. He had been friendly but circumspect, helpful but not overly familiar in their exchanges to date. There certainly hadn’t been any more offers to share coffee and omelettes, she’d been pleased to note! Catherine was determined their relationship would continue like that. She’d come to Brookdale Surgery to do a job and nothing else.
‘So, apart from these dizzy spells, have you experienced any other symptoms, Mrs Hoskins?’
Catherine briskly returned her attention to her patient. Lauren Hoskins was in her thirties, an attractive, well-dressed woman who worked in advertising. The address on Lauren’s records was in a road which had become highly sought-after in the past few years. A lot of wealthy couples had chosen to purchase the large Edwardian properties and refurbish them. However, despite such material advantages, Lauren exuded a strange aura of vulnerability. Catherine very much wanted to get to the root of her problems but so far had met with little success.
‘Not really.’ Lauren smiled wanly. ‘Should I have had other symptoms, Dr Lewis?’
‘Not at all,’ Catherine replied evenly. ‘As I’m not sure yet what is wrong with you, it certainly isn’t possible to say how you should or shouldn’t feel.’
She turned to the computer and checked through the woman’s medical history again. Lauren Hoskins had visited the surgery no less than five times in the past three months, each time complaining of dizziness. She had seen Glenda Williams each time and Catherine couldn’t fault the other doctor’s thoroughness as she ran through the list of tests that Lauren had undergone.
‘Looking through your records, it appears that you’ve been tested for diabetes and high blood pressure. You’ve been for an MRI scan to rule out any problems within the brain, like subdural bleeding, for instance.’ Catherine ran her finger down the list, checking off each test and its conclusion. ‘Dr Williams has eliminated labyrinthitis, which is often a cause of dizziness, because there was no sign of inflammation in your inner ears. She has also discounted Ménière’s disease because you’ve not experienced any deafness or tinnitus—that ringing in the ears which is symptomatic of the disease. You’ve also had three pregnancy tests and all have proved negative.’
Catherine glanced at the woman as she came to the end of the list and noticed how Lauren had quickly averted her eyes. Had it been the mention of the pregnancy tests which had caused that reaction? she found herself wondering.
She picked up a pen and pretended to jot down some notes while she gave herself time to think. Maybe that was the cause of Lauren’s frequent visits to the surgery, the fact that she and her husband had been trying—unsuccessfully—to have a baby? The stress of not conceiving could certainly cause physical symptoms such as dizziness. However, if that were the case, then why was Lauren so reluctant to talk about the problem and seek help? Catherine decided to tread carefully rather than ask her outright.
‘I think another pregnancy test would be in order today just to rule out that possibility again.’ She took a sample jar out of the drawer and passed it across the desk but Lauren shook her head.
‘I’m not pregnant, Dr Lewis. I…I know that for a fact.’
‘I see.’ Catherine sat back in her chair and studied her quietly. ‘Are you and your husband trying for a baby by any chance?’
‘No!’ Lauren laughed bitterly. ‘A baby’s the last thing we need at the moment.’ She made an obvious effort to collect herself. ‘Anyway, that really has nothing to do with why I came today. I just thought—hoped—that you might be able to shed some light on these dizzy spells I keep having all the time.’
‘I wish I could. However, it does appear that you’ve had all the tests available, which seems to suggest that the problem isn’t anything physical.’ Catherine chose her words with care. ‘Stress can often be a major contributing factor in a situation like this, Mrs Hoskins. Is there anything worrying you at the moment? Maybe something stressful happening at work or a situation at home which needs resolving?’
‘No, of course not! Everything is fine…perfectly fine, both at work and at home! It’s just these dizzy spells. That’s all.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘Anyway, I won’t waste any more of your time, Dr Lewis. Thank you for seeing me. Good day.’
Catherine hurriedly got up and followed her to the door. Despite what Lauren had said, she sensed there was something very wrong. ‘Please, don’t rush off, Mrs Hoskins. I’d really like to try and get to the bottom of this problem.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Dr Lewis. As you said, I’ve had all the tests available so there doesn’t seem much else you can do.’
She quickly left the room. Catherine frowned as she watched her hurrying along the corridor. She couldn’t help wondering if she should go after her. It was disquieting to have provoked such a reaction from a patient…
‘Problems?’
Matthew had come out of his consulting room and paused when he saw her standing in the corridor. Catherine shrugged, trying to ignore the surge her pulse gave. He had been already hard at work when she had arrived that morning so it was the first she’d seen of him that day. She couldn’t help thinking how well the blue of his shirt set off the colour of his eyes, making them sparkle like sapphires.
She hurriedly chased away that fanciful thought before it could take hold. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘You’re not sure?’ Matthew grinned. ‘Oh, wow, that must be a first!’
Catherine stared at him in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That I never thought I’d hear you admit there was anything you weren’t sure about.’ His eyes danced with laughter, making her long to smile back. She managed to curb the urge but it was a struggle all the same.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she retorted, turning to go back into her room.
‘Don’t you?’ Matthew followed her inside and propped himself against the doorjamb as he treated her to a considering look. ‘So the fact that you’ve not made any attempt to ask my advice isn’t an indication that you prefer to go it alone in the face of whatever adversity?’
His tone couldn’t possibly have caused offence, but Catherine knew that he was still making a point. She hadn’t made any attempt to seek him out even though there had been several occasions when maybe she could have done with his help. Oh, not that there had been anything that she hadn’t been able to deal with, of course, but there had been a couple of instances when it would have been helpful to supplement a patient’s history with a bit more background information.
It was galling to admit that she had allowed her personal feelings to influence her to such a degree. It had never happened before and she couldn’t understand why it had happened now. It was difficult to keep the worry out of her voice when she replied.
‘Everything has been fairly straightforward so far.’
‘I see. So it wasn’t because you were afraid to ask my advice, then?’
‘Afraid?’
Her heart surged into her throat as that remark he’d made about her being vulnerable sprang to mind again. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. Maybe it was this feeling she had that Matthew could see more than she wanted him to that troubled her. To the world at large she had always presented such a confident front yet she knew that underneath it she wasn’t really like that. Inside there was someone completely different, a woman who had fears and uncertainties she had never told anyone about. Did Matthew suspect that? It was that question which worried her most of all.
‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘I’d hate to think that I came across as unapproachable so if you have a problem, please, don’t be afraid to ask my advice. If there is any way that I can help you, Catherine, then you only have to say the word.’
He grinned. ‘Although I’m not trying to set myself up as some sort of oracle, you understand, or claim that I have all the answers. There is a hidden agenda to that offer. It means that I can pick your brains whenever I need help!’
Catherine felt an immediate rush of relief when she realised that she had completely misread the situation. Matthew was simply trying to promote a closer working relationship, not trying to uncover her innermost secrets.
She smiled back, feeling the tension oozing out of her. ‘The old two heads are better than one theory?’ She laughed when he nodded. ‘Well, I’m a firm believer in it, too, so I’ll take you up on your offer straight away. What do you know about Lauren Hoskins? I know she’s Glenda’s patient but has Glenda ever mentioned her?’
‘She has, actually. She had a word with me the last time Lauren came to see her because she, too, was puzzled. Evidently, Lauren has had every test under the sun and they’ve all come back negative.’
‘That’s right.’
Catherine turned to the computer so she could check through the patient’s case history once more. She started nervously when Matthew suddenly appeared at her side and bent to look over her shoulder. He was so close that she could smell the faint aroma of soap which clung to his skin as well as another scent she couldn’t quite identify. Her brow furrowed as she tried to work out what it was…
‘Baby powder.’
She didn’t realise she’d spoken out loud until Matthew looked enquiringly at her. Catherine felt the blush sweep up her face until it felt as though even the roots of her hair must have been glowing.
‘Sorry? What did you say?’
‘I…um. Nothing.’ She managed the weakest of smiles then quickly averted her eyes, focusing on the computer screen as she began to scroll through the list of tests Lauren Hoskins had undergone in the past few months.
‘Blood pressure, three times. Diabetes. MRI.’ There was the faintest wobble in her voice but she was certain that Matthew wouldn’t notice it. He really didn’t know her well enough to pick up on something like that. Her confidence returned as he kept his eyes—and his attention—firmly fixed on the screen, seemingly as intrigued as she was by the mystery of why Lauren should be experiencing those dizzy spells all the time.
‘Well, it’s got me foxed and I don’t mind admitting it,’ he declared as they came to the end of Lauren’s notes. He straightened and Catherine shivered when she was suddenly deprived of the warmth from his body.
Matthew must have noticed her reaction because he frowned. ‘If you’re cold, turn on the fire. Here, let me do it for you. It can be a bit tricky until you get the knack of lighting the wretched thing.’
He went to the grate to light the old-fashioned gas fire. Catherine looked away as her pulse performed the oddest manoeuvre when she saw how the muscles in his thighs bunched as he crouched down to put a match to the jets. They ignited with a small pop and he quickly adjusted the flames before he stood up.
‘It gets really chilly in these rooms with them having such high ceilings,’ he observed, dropping the spent match into a misshapen pottery ashtray on the end of the mantelpiece. ‘That’s why we decided to keep the gas fires when we refurbished the place. Central heating is fine in a modern house but you need a bit of extra heat in these rooms.’
‘Yes, I suppose you do,’ Catherine replied, struggling to keep any inflection out of her voice. It bothered her that she seemed to notice things about Matthew which she had never been aware of before. When was the last time that she had noticed something like thigh muscles? she thought wonderingly. Probably in anatomy class, the answer came back. And that had been entirely different!
She took a small breath, fighting the feeling of panic which seemed to be closing in on her. She had to deal with this before it got any worse. So Matthew Fielding was a very attractive man, but she had met other attractive men in the past and she would meet many more in the future. She just had to put him into that context.
She wasn’t sure if that bit of homespun wisdom would have an effect but it seemed safer to hope that it would. It also seemed safer to steer the conversation back to what they had been talking about before she had got sidetracked.
‘To get back to Lauren Hoskins,’ she said, pleased to hear how calm she sounded, a world away from how she really felt. ‘Is there anything we might have missed, d’you think?’
‘It’s possible. Let’s go back through everything we know so that we can eliminate all the possibilities one more time.’
Matthew came and sat on the edge of her desk, looking thoughtful as he set his mind to solving the problem. Catherine joined in with relief, feeling easier now that they were concentrating on work. She began listing, and discounting, all the possible causes for Lauren’s dizzy spells.
‘Blood pressure is fine and her ECG results were excellent. No sign of diabetes or inner ear infections either.’
‘She didn’t mention anything about feeling sick or vomiting, or that she had trouble with her balance?’ Matthew put in.
‘Vertigo, you mean?’ Catherine shook her head. ‘No, I checked that. And there’s been no noises in her ears or deafness so we can discount Ménière’s. I also checked if the dizzy spells coincided with her menstrual cycle, but they don’t. A lot of women get light-headed just before or during menstruation because of hormonal changes.’
‘Mmm. I noticed that she’s had several pregnancy tests so I assume we can rule out that possibility, too?’ Matthew queried.
‘Yes. Actually, I offered to do another test today but Lauren was adamant that she couldn’t be pregnant.’
Catherine wondered if she should mention the idea she’d had that it might be Lauren’s failure to conceive which was causing the problem. She had nothing to base the suspicion on, especially when Lauren had been so quick to deny it, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that it might hold the key to the woman’s problems.
‘What? I can see that you’ve thought of something.’ Matthew laughed when she looked at him in surprise. ‘No, I’m not psychic. You get a sort of broody look on your face whenever something is bothering you!’
Catherine forced herself to smile but the comment had startled her. She had never realised that her expression was so revealing. Unless it was just that Matthew noticed things that other people missed.
The idea unnerved her and she rushed to speak. ‘Lauren seemed to get very defensive when I suggested she might be pregnant. I did wonder if there was a problem in that area and if maybe she and her husband had been trying for a baby but not had much success.’
‘It’s certainly a possibility,’ Matthew agreed. ‘When you say defensive, though, what do you mean exactly?’
‘Oh, just that she denied they were trying for a baby and said that it was the last thing they needed at the moment. I can’t explain why it struck me as odd but it did.’
Catherine frowned as she tried to work it out. She heard Matthew sigh and looked at him expectantly. ‘What?’
‘Just that it isn’t easy to help people when they won’t tell you what’s really wrong. It’s one of the curses of working in a middle-class area like this. People can’t bear anyone to think that their lives aren’t perfect. They seem to see it as some sort of failing on their part, as though they have a duty to maintain the right image.’
Catherine shrugged, more than a little surprised by the observation. ‘Most people tend to be like that, surely. They put up a front.’
‘To a degree, yes. However, in an area like this, where image and status are so important, it can be a real problem. Maybe Lauren can’t have children. Maybe her husband doesn’t want them. Who knows? When your life seems perfect to all intents and purposes, you tend to paper over the cracks—hide the bad bits to keep up appearances in front of your friends.’ He shrugged. ‘The problem is that the bad bits have a way of revealing themselves one way or another.’
‘And Lauren’s dizzy spells could be an outlet for what is going wrong in her life?’ Catherine nodded thoughtfully as she considered that possibility. In a way, it was only what she had been wondering, although Matthew had put a slightly different spin on the idea.
‘Yes. If there is no physical cause for her illness then we should try to find a psychological cause.’
‘I did think of that. I asked Lauren if there was anything worrying her but once again I have to use that same word and say that she became extremely defensive.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best. What about her husband? Do you know anything about him?’
‘Not a lot. I’ve only met him once when they registered with us. He came in for a new-patient check-up.’ Matthew shrugged. ‘He seemed a pleasant enough chap, a bit full of himself but that’s nothing unusual in his line of work.’
‘What does he do? I imagine it’s something quite high-powered.’
‘Peter makes documentaries for television, I believe. I know he was telling me about something he was working on, but I don’t recall it ever being broadcast. Although I’m not the best person to ask when it comes to intellectual programmes.’
He grinned. ‘My viewing tends to consist mainly of children’s programmes. I’m a whiz when it comes to the latest cartoons. I reckon I could win top prize on one of those game shows so long as my specialist subject was the latest cartoon hero to hit the screens!’
Catherine couldn’t help laughing. ‘A talent like that should be nurtured. Not everyone your age could make such a claim.’
‘Don’t!’ He winced. ‘I have a birthday coming up and I’m rather sensitive when it comes to the subject of age.’
It was obvious that he didn’t mean a word of it and why should he? she thought, taking stock of his muscular physique. Matthew was in his prime and many men his age—and younger—would be delighted to be in such excellent shape.
She looked away when she realised where her mind was wandering again. She could hardly believe it had happened a second time. ‘On the surface, then, they seem to be a couple who have everything going for them,’ she observed, deciding it was safer to stick to work.
‘On the surface, yes. But you know as well as I do that it’s impossible to judge by appearances.’ Matthew frowned. ‘I remember Glenda saying one time after Lauren had been to see her that she felt that there was something the woman wasn’t telling her.’
‘I got that impression, too. How strange. I had this feeling that she wanted to tell me what was wrong but that she was…well, afraid to do so.’ Catherine sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have let her rush off like that, should I?’
‘You couldn’t have stopped her,’ he protested, then stopped as Margaret, one of the receptionists, popped her head round the door.
‘I hate to disturb you, Matt, but there’s a queue outside.’ She shot a pointed look at her watch. ‘Your eleven o’clock appointment has arrived and your eleven-fifteen…’
‘OK. I can take a hint!’ Matthew laughed as he got up. ‘Anyway, you can blame Catherine this time, not me. She’s the culprit.’
‘Me?’ Catherine echoed in astonishment.
‘Uh-huh. I was so fascinated by our conversation that I didn’t realise so much time had elapsed. Ergo, it’s all your fault!’
He gave her a decidedly wicked smile then sauntered out of the room. Catherine hurried to explain when she saw the speculation on Margaret’s face. It was obvious the other woman had completely misunderstood Matt’s remark.
‘Matt…Dr Fielding…meant he was fascinated by a case we’ve been discussing,’ she gabbled, her tongue tripping over itself in her haste to set matters straight.
‘Of course, Dr Lewis.’
Margaret’s tone was so bland that the words conveyed exactly the opposite meaning they should have done. Catherine felt heat suffuse her when she realised that the receptionist didn’t believe a word she’d said. Did Margaret think that Matt had been wasting his time chatting her up instead of seeing to his patients?
It was on the tip of her tongue to assure Margaret that wasn’t the case when she suddenly thought better of it. Wasn’t there a saying about protesting too much?
‘I’ll send in your next patient, then, shall I, Dr Lewis?’ Margaret asked in the same bland tone.
Catherine nodded because it seemed an awful lot safer. No protestations would pass her lips, no explanations, nothing. She wasn’t going to give the staff at the surgery anything to gossip about!
‘Has she gone?’ Matt glanced furtively along the corridor as he sidled back into her room. He treated Catherine to a conspiratorial smile. ‘I should have warned you that Margaret is a real termagant when it comes to her beloved appointment system. You dice with death if you mess it up! Anyway, I daren’t risk getting in her bad books again so I’ll see you after surgery. In the kitchen around twelve-thirty. OK?’
‘I…um. Why? I mean, what do you need to see me about?’ she demanded, her voice rising by at least an octave. She cleared her throat, striving hard to achieve her usual even tone. ‘There isn’t much we can do unless Lauren is prepared to tell us what is really wrong with her.’
‘There isn’t. However, it wasn’t Lauren I wanted to talk to you about.’
Matthew cast another wary glance over his shoulder when the door leading from the waiting room opened. ‘I need to ask your advice this time, Catherine. The old two heads theory and all that. So, I’ll see you in the kitchen later. And don’t let Margaret know that I’ve been in here again or she’ll have me shot for dereliction of duty!’
He disappeared and a moment later Catherine heard him greeting his patient with some quip or other. The sound of their laughter was abruptly cut off as his consulting-room door closed.
She took a deep breath, added another for good measure, then went for the hat trick. It didn’t work. Maybe Matthew’s invitation to meet him in the kitchen hadn’t had quite the same ring to it as Meet me under the clock and I’ll wear a red rose, but it had certainly had an effect on her equilibrium. Making a date…any kind of a date…with Matthew Fielding made her feel very vulnerable indeed!

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3c2d10b6-bbfa-5296-bbb2-f4ad4a46d9ed)
‘HI, THERE! I’ve made coffee and there’s some sandwiches if you’re hungry.’
It was twelve thirty-two, precisely. Catherine had checked her watch enough times to know that without having to check it again. The whole time she had been working through the rest of her morning list she had been conscious of the minutes ticking away and bringing the moment for her meeting with Matt ever closer. Maybe it was ridiculous to have got herself so worked up, but she hadn’t been able to help it. It certainly didn’t settle her mind to see the coffee-mugs and plates of sandwiches arranged on the table either. Was this really a work-related meeting, as he’d claimed?
‘Sit yourself down. It’s just milk, isn’t it? You don’t take sugar?’ Matthew picked up the coffee-pot and brought it over to the table. He put it down on a mat and frowned when he realised she was still standing in the doorway. ‘Catherine?’
‘I…um. No.’ She saw his brows arch and hurriedly tried to get a grip on herself. She wasn’t helping the situation by acting like a halfwit.
‘No, I don’t take sugar,’ she explained as much for her own benefit as for his. Keep things simple, Catherine! she chided herself. Stick to the rules. Rule number one was to always maintain her composure. Rule number two was never to mix work with pleasure. Rule number three…
She sighed because there was no point going any further. Rule number three—always to be on her guard—was proving as difficult to adhere to as numbers one and two. Matthew seemed to have a particular knack of sliding past her defences!
She pulled out a chair while Matt filled the mugs with coffee. He shoved the plate of sandwiches towards her then sat down opposite her. ‘Try one of these. You won’t be disappointed, I promise you. Mum makes the best sandwiches ever.’
Catherine took a sandwich simply because it was easier to comply than refuse. She bit into the moist brown bread and gave a little sigh of pleasure as the flavour of perfectly cooked roast beef and grainy mustard rioted around her taste buds.
‘Told you, didn’t I?’
The smugness in his voice made her smile despite herself.
‘Yes, you did, so you can stop crowing. I don’t suppose your mother would like a job? My cooking leaves an awful lot to be desired!’
‘No way! You are not poaching her off me. Oh, I might agree to share her on the odd occasion but I saw her first, so hands off.’ He took a swallow of his coffee then looked enquiringly at her. ‘Anyway, haven’t you a mother of your own who will take pity on you?’
‘No.’ Catherine picked up her mug and drank a little of the excellent coffee, using the few seconds it took to remove all expression from her face. ‘She died when I was a teenager.’
‘Oh, hell! I’m sorry, Catherine.’ He reached over the table and squeezed her fingers. ‘Me and my big mouth, eh?’
‘You weren’t to know.’
She eased her hand out of his grasp and picked up her sandwich again but there was a lump the size of Everest in her throat. It was strange because she had thought she had got over the pain of her mother’s death a long time ago, but it was as though Matt’s sympathy had released all the pent-up emotion. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to cry and hated the thought of him seeing her howling like a baby.
‘It must have been hard for you. How old were you when she died?’
His tone was neither overly sympathetic nor totally uncaring this time and Catherine felt her emotions subside to a more manageable level. ‘Fifteen. She was killed in a road traffic accident on her way home from work. She was knocked down by a bus while crossing the road.’
‘I see. So what happened to you afterwards? Did your father take care of you?’
‘No. My parents had divorced a couple of years before the accident happened. My father had moved to California and we’d lost touch,’ she explained flatly. She’d had years to come to terms with her father’s rejection and it no longer hurt as it had done once upon a time. She shrugged when Matt’s expression darkened.
‘These things happen, Matt. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, as there was no one else to look after me I was put into care and I stayed there until I went to med school. The rest, as they say, is history.’
‘So they do, but the trouble with history is that an awful lot gets lost along the way. We remember the key events but so often it’s the small, seemingly insignificant moments which have made the biggest impact on us.’
His tone was light enough to be taken as a general observation but Catherine couldn’t help wondering if he had realised that she’d left out an awful lot. The idea was far too disturbing so she decided right there and then that she should change the subject. After all, this meeting hadn’t been arranged to delve into her past. Matt had said that he needed her advice so maybe it was time she reminded him of that.
‘Anyway, enough of all that. Let’s get back to what I wanted to speak to you about.’
In the event it was Matt who set the conversation back on track and she couldn’t help feeling irritated at being forestalled. It was galling to feel as though she had no control over what was happening even though he had only done what she’d been intending to do.
‘And that was?’ she asked coolly.
‘David Marshall. He’s the patient with motor neurone disease I was called out to see the night you came for your interview, if you remember.’
His tone was bland enough yet she knew without the shadow of a doubt that he had picked up on her irritation. How did he do that? she wondered in dismay. How could he read her mind with such apparent ease? She had no idea but it was disturbing to know that he was so receptive to her mood.
‘Of course I remember,’ she replied curtly. ‘You were discussing him on the phone with Glenda.’
She realised her mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth. Matt had had no idea that she’d overheard his conversation that night but would he remember what he’d said about her? Her nerves tightened as she waited for him to answer, but he gave no sign that he was disconcerted by the comment.
‘That’s right. Both Glenda and I have treated David since he first became ill. We find that it helps him to see different people. He’s become increasingly housebound in the last couple of years and misses the contact with the outside world. We alternate our visits so that he gets a bit of variety, so to speak.’
‘It must be very difficult for him,’ Catherine observed, relieved that he hadn’t noticed her slip. ‘It’s such a cruel illness, especially in its later stages. Those people who suffer from it retain their full mental powers and awareness yet they are locked into a body which won’t obey even the most basic commands.’
‘Unfortunately, David is fast reaching that point. Until fairly recently he had some mobility and the characteristic muscle tremors weren’t too bad. However, the disease seems to have put on a spurt of late and he’s now in a wheelchair. It’s been a bitter blow for him because he was always so active. He was a rugby player when he was younger, and played for England several times. He also ran his own software company, which was extremely successful.’
‘How sad. I take it that he has help—physiotherapy, nursing care, maybe a wife or family who look after him?’
Matt sighed. ‘We’ve managed to get him nursing care and physio, but that’s basically it, I’m afraid. He was married but he and his wife got divorced when he first became ill. She couldn’t cope with the thought of him becoming disabled, apparently. That’s why Glenda and I tend to see him a bit more often than is strictly necessary. There’s very little we can do but…’
‘But you try to keep up his spirits by visiting him?’ Catherine finished for him.
He laughed. ‘How did you guess? But you’re right, of course. The problem is that David hates the idea of anyone feeling sorry for him. He’d be mortified if he discovered that we don’t need to visit him so often. We have to be very careful and do all sorts of medical procedures as a cover. I don’t think we have another patient on our books who has his blood pressure taken so many times a month!’
‘You should be working for MI5!’ Catherine declared. ‘Between sneaking about when Margaret isn’t looking and undertaking clandestine visits to patients, you’re absolutely wasted as a GP.’
‘I suppose I should get myself one of those trenchcoats and a trilby hat. I need the right clothes to play the part properly, don’t I?’ Matthew rolled his eyes when she laughed. ‘The mind boggles, doesn’t it? But leaving all that aside, what I was wondering, Cathy, was whether you’d be willing to help by standing in for Glenda while you’re working here.’
‘Of course,’ she replied immediately because she didn’t want to dwell on how it made her feel to hear him use the diminutive of her name.
She took a deep breath because she couldn’t stop herself thinking about it. She couldn’t stop herself feeling it, in fact. Ripples of warmth seemed to be floating across the surface of her mind, like clouds across a summer sky. Her father had called her Cathy as a child but nobody else had ever done so, mainly because she had discouraged them from using it. The diminutive had always seemed too familiar so that the few times her classmates in med school had used it, she had asked them not to. It was strange because it didn’t feel wrong to hear Matt using it now. Admittedly, it had generated all sorts of feelings but it didn’t feel wrong…
‘Is that a problem?’
She started when she realised that she hadn’t heard a word that he’d said. ‘Pardon?’
There was a huskiness in her voice which she had never heard in it before. She noticed it immediately but so, too, did Matt. Catherine felt her heart race when he suddenly got up from the table. He went to the sink and turned on the tap, keeping his back towards her so that she couldn’t see his expression. And when he spoke his voice was even huskier than hers had been so that she shivered when she felt the uneven timbre strumming along her nerves.
‘I was just saying that Glenda and I usually visit David outside working hours.’
He turned off the tap and she saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath. Catherine had no idea what he was hoping to achieve by it but it definitely didn’t do anything for her dilemma. Witnessing the struggle Matt was having to stay focused certainly didn’t ease her mind.
‘I know it’s an imposition to ask you to see a patient in your free time so just say if you don’t want to do it, Cath…’
‘It’s fine. Really!’ She gave the most inane laugh ever but it was better than hearing Matt call her by that seductive little name again. Pushing back her chair, she hastily got to her feet. ‘I don’t mind in the least going to see him out of surgery hours, really I don’t.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
Matt had himself under control again and she felt her knees go weak with relief when he turned and she saw that his face held nothing more than approval. ‘David is down for a visit tomorrow afternoon, as it happens. We usually pop in to see him on our free afternoons as it’s easier that way. I like to be at home with the children of an evening. It’s hard to find enough time to spend with them as it is.’
‘It must be,’ she agreed, as though bringing up a family was something she knew all about. Quite frankly, she couldn’t begin to imagine how hectic his life must be, taking care of his daughters, being, in effect, both mother and father to them. It should have made her see how lucky she was to have only herself to worry about and yet for some reason she didn’t feel lucky when she thought about it. There was no one for her to go home to after work, nobody to worry about or who would worry about her—nobody to love.
She blinked and her mind miraculously cleared. What on earth was she thinking? She liked her life exactly the way it was and having a family wasn’t something she had ever planned on doing!
‘It isn’t a problem,’ she said firmly, relieved to be back on familiar ground. ‘You can put me down for a visit tomorrow afternoon, if you like.’
‘Great! That’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you. I had visions of having to forfeit my afternoons off for the next twelve months. It would have been a nightmare because I can barely find the time to fit everything in as it is.’ He grimaced. ‘Heaven knows how I’m going to cope when Mum goes to Canada. It doesn’t bear thinking about!’
‘Canada!’ Catherine exclaimed. ‘Good heavens, when is she planning on going there?’
‘The middle of December. My sister, Cheryl, is expecting her first baby, you see, so Mum is going to stay with her until after Christmas. It’s taken me ages to persuade Mum that she should go but I know how much she wants to be with Cheryl. It isn’t fair that she should miss out because she feels she should stay here to help me look after the girls.’
‘How will you manage without her, though? Surely it won’t be easy, looking after the children as well as working?’ Catherine queried, thinking what a massive understatement that was. Just thinking about the logistics of caring for a family whilst doing a full-time job filled her with dread.
‘I’ve no idea.’ Matt grinned when she stared at him. ‘I shall just have to muddle through, I suppose. Fortunately, Becky is old enough to look after Hannah for an hour or so when they get home from school, so I shall have to try to be more efficient and get through my evening list on time. It should earn me a few brownie points with Margaret, if nothing else.’
‘Get through your list on time?’ Catherine repeated. ‘I’ll believe that when it happens.’
‘Are you implying that I’m tardy, Dr Lewis?’ he demanded, glowering at her.
‘Not at all. You aren’t tardy, Dr Fielding. You’re downright late!’
She gave him a teasing smile which wavered when she saw the expression on his face. There was laughter there, of course, but along with that there was something else…
She turned away, her heart racing as she tried to come to terms with what she had just witnessed, but it wasn’t easy to deal with the idea that Matt was attracted to her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t true but it was pointless lying after what she’d just seen. Matt regarded her not just as a colleague but as an attractive woman whom he wanted to get to know better. Whilst part of her rejoiced at the idea, another part flatly rejected it.
‘I’d better get sorted out,’ she murmured, conscious of his gaze following as she went to the door. ‘I’ve quite a few house calls to do this afternoon and I don’t want to be late getting back for evening surgery.’
‘Of course not, but don’t work too hard, will you, Cathy?’
Catherine didn’t say anything as she hurriedly left. She went straight to her room and picked up the pile of call slips Margaret had left for her. She needed to check through them so she could put them in order of priority.
The pieces of paper fell from her hands but she didn’t even notice. All she could think about was Matt’s voice when he had said her name just now: Cathy. Maybe the name could be applied to her but it certainly didn’t reflect the person she was or, rather, the one she tried to be. Cathy was the name of the woman she kept hidden away inside her.
That person didn’t need to be in control all the time. She didn’t set boundaries or live by any rules. Cathy didn’t have ambitions or goals to achieve. She was just a warm, caring, loving woman who longed to be loved in return; a woman who would do a job because it was the job she wanted to do; a woman who would love a man because—rightly or wrongly—he was the man she loved.
How Catherine envied that woman. How she feared her because it was the Cathys of this world who found true happiness yet the risks they took to achieve it were just too great. She had always known that she could be either Cathy or Catherine but that she couldn’t be both, and she had made her decision a long time ago which it had to be. Just because Matthew Fielding seemed to possess this power to disturb her, it wasn’t a good enough reason to start having second thoughts.
Catherine picked up the slips of paper. She quickly sorted them into order then left the surgery. It felt good to be back on course once more.
‘Matthew, it’s me, Catherine. Look, I’m sorry to phone you like this but I seem to have a bit of problem.’
Catherine glanced nervously over her shoulder when she heard a noise behind her but it was only a rusty old can being blown along the pavement by the wind. She huddled closer to the wall, wishing that she was safely back at the surgery.
It was almost four o’clock and she had never expected to still be doing house calls at that time of the day, but things hadn’t gone according to plan. A number of the calls she’d made that afternoon had taken far longer than she’d anticipated so that she’d been running late even before she’d arrived at the block of flats on the very edge of their catchment area. In contrast to the more prosperous streets she had driven through that afternoon, this whole area was very run-down. Most of the flats seemed to have been boarded up and there were mounds of rubbish strewn across the street. Although there was nobody about, she couldn’t deny that she felt extremely edgy.
‘What’s wrong?’ Matthew’s voice sharpened in concern and for some reason she found herself relaxing. It was strangely comforting to know that he was worried about her.
‘Would you believe that I’m lost?’ she replied, trying to damp down the warm glow that had flooded through her.
‘I’d find it rather hard, I have to admit.’
He laughed and she had a sudden mental image of him sitting at his desk in his office. His blue eyes would be full of laughter and his mouth would be curled into that wonderful smile which never seemed to be far from his lips…
‘Getting lost doesn’t strike me as something you do very often, Cathy.’
The warmth inside her increased tenfold when he called her by the diminutive again. Catherine fought to control it by focusing on the problem at hand.
‘It isn’t, and I really can’t understand what’s gone wrong this time,’ she said briskly. ‘There’s only one street with this name according to my map. Is it possible that Margaret could have given me the wrong address?’
‘Well, it’s possible, I suppose, although I have to say that it’s highly unlikely. Margaret is a stickler for detail whenever anyone requests a home visit.’ Matt sounded puzzled. ‘Tell me where you are and I’ll check it out.’
‘Thanks.’ Catherine rattled off the name and address that had been written on the call slip.
‘Got it. Hang on a sec while I check the files,’ he instructed. ‘The patient’s name doesn’t seem to ring any bells, I have to confess.’
There was a soft thud as he put the receiver down. Catherine clamped the cellphone against her ear as she waited for him to come back. She wasn’t normally a nervous person but there was something decidedly unsettling about standing in the middle of the deserted street. It was a huge relief when Matt came back on the line a few seconds later.
‘I’ve got the file right here in front of me and the information you have is correct. We have Mrs Grimes listed as living at number forty-two Ansell Heights.’
‘Then I’m not sure what’s happened,’ Catherine admitted, hoping Matt couldn’t tell how nervous she felt. ‘I must have knocked at least a dozen times, but I couldn’t get an answer.’
‘That’s strange. According to our records, Mrs Grimes has lived there for some time. She must be in her seventies now and the last time we saw her at the surgery was just over three years ago. She’s one of Glenda’s patients, which explains why I don’t remember her.’
There was a touch of impatience in his voice but Catherine knew she wasn’t responsible for it. He was annoyed with himself for not being able to recall the patient in question.
‘You can’t remember every patient who’s registered with the practice,’ she pointed out.
‘Hmm, s’pose not.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
How indeed? It was a good question and one she had no intention of answering. ‘A lucky guess,’ she replied shortly, refusing to dwell on how easily she had latched onto his thoughts. ‘Anyway, thanks for checking the address for me. I’ll give it one last shot then call it a day. Maybe Mrs Grimes felt better and went out, forgetting that she’d asked for a home visit.’
‘It’s possible but I think I’ll have a word with Social Services to see if they’ve had any dealings with her recently. I’d hate to think she might be too ill to answer the door.’
‘Good point,’ Catherine agreed. ‘I’ll check back with you if I can’t get a reply this time and we’ll take it from there.’
‘Do that. I’m here if you need me, Cathy. Just give me a call.’
‘I will.’
Catherine sighed as she slipped the phone into her pocket, wondering if she should ask Matt not to keep calling her Cathy. She didn’t want to cause a fuss but it might be better to make her feelings clear. Of course, the other alternative was to ignore it…
Oh, yeah! a small voice jeered. So she could ignore him calling her Cathy, could she?
Her mouth pursed because she really wasn’t used to behaving in this ambivalent fashion. Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated about making her feelings plain so it was galling to find herself debating the issue. What was it about Matt that made even the simplest decision so difficult?
She had no more idea what the answer was to that question than she had to so many others that seemed to have arisen of late so she put it out of her mind as she went back inside the building and made her way to the fourth floor. She rapped on the door and almost leapt out of her skin when a querulous voice answered from inside.
‘Who’s there? What do you want?’
‘It’s Dr Lewis, Mrs Grimes. From Brookdale Surgery.’
‘Lewis? I don’t know any doctor by the name of Lewis. You get away from here. Go on. Leave me alone!’
Catherine frowned when she heard the panic in the old lady’s voice. The poor soul sounded really terrified and she couldn’t understand why she should be so afraid.
‘I’m new at the surgery, which is why you won’t have heard of me. I only started working there on Monday, in fact. I’m replacing Dr Williams while she’s away on leave.’
She carried on in the same reassuring vein when the old lady didn’t reply. ‘There’s really nothing to be frightened about, Mrs Grimes. I just want to check that you’re all right so won’t you, please, open the door?’

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